Author's Note: I'm horrified. Wondering if all these reviews are in sympathy because I faltered, or if I actually succeeded and should try some more drama/angst/whatever stuff. Anyway. I love you guys! My own little fanbase. -Sniff, sniff- Thanks to all the people who reviewed -- one of which I know personally -- and all of those who read but don't leave comments. I assure you, I've got a plot in mine, so bear with me a little while longer, eh? ( And I thought that was perfect Fanart inspiration, CG. ;_; ) By the way, if you have questions about the chapters, go ahead and leave a review. I'll even put in a little Reno Spiegel Q&A Session if I get enough.
Author's Note Two: I'm breaking milestones. Received 150 total reviews, submitted over 100 myself, 11 people with me as a favorite author, almost 60 reviews on this little gem, but stuck with a dreaded disease. Curable, sure. But pesky. So, until I get some help, you may not see me around much for awhile. Damn writer's block. ( C'mon, who'd I almost fool there? ) While fighting my writer's block, I went to see Eight Crazy Nights at 7:00. I'm aimed to be able to tie my shoes and speak in a good three weeks. Yes, I'm purposely making the names weird. When were you last talking a to Sephiroth, Aeris, or Red XIII, huh? Wouldn't it be fucked if we threw in a whole bunch of Toms and Bobs and Bills?
Author's Note Three: Okay, this thing's taken me over ten days and it's PISSING ME OFF. Right now I'm addicted to the wonderful Flash Flash Revolution ( Take that, bastards! 203-move combo! ) and trying to sort some things out with the school assholes. Not to mention I'm looking at getting paid to help sixth grade summer school and they're not too thrilled about it. Anyway. I don't know if you're aware, but as of December 28, I'll have been writing Fics for a year. Go me. Throw me a party or give me an award or something? Also, I've hit my stage again. If you see a Malkavian cos-playing Fujin anytime soon, run up and mention Mako Dreams. I'll talk to ya. ;) ( Prize to the first person who can find out what Mukau means. )
Author's Note Four: GOOD GOD! I'M SITTING HERE AND FINISHING IT RIGHT NOW! By the way, if you want, email me to be added to the update mailing list. It's short, but deal with it, dammit. This is pissing me off beyond all return.
Silver Rose
by Reno Spiegel
Dante@towernetwork.net
December 2, 3076
Morning. Villa. Costa del Sol. 6:19 A.M.
"You're a fan." - Jinaisim, Costa del Sol Books
Morning. Jesus, I feel like I've got the hangover to end them all. My head throbs, my muscles ache, and my eyes hurt so bad I can't open them. Maybe I'm dead. Yes, maybe I died and went to Hell as many have told me to do over the years. Ah, release. Sweet, sweet release. I can open my wings, fly, soar into the heavens any time I want to now.
The alarm clock sounds next to me.
Bang. There goes the rifle, one of my wings is out, and I'm spiralling down to the Planet again. Oh, well. Nice while it lasted. Three, two, one, impact. Groan. Fuck the day. I don't want to wake up and meet it this time around. My hand almost crushes the poor pocket-sized travel clock when I turn the alarm off, then drag myself from the bed and walk to the window on the cold floor.
The sun peeks over the horizon, skips across the water, and reflects directly into my eyes. It meets my center finger and I close the shades. Six-thirty in the morning and I'm already waiting for sunset. Pathetic? I wonder as I stride out of the room, into the living room, and find the new pants and newspaper on the couch for me.
Nope, just stupid, I figure. I look over the paper. No interesting news, except for the mention of the concert I'm heading to with Aeris. I try to remember last night, but my heads pounds, mostly from frustration, so I turn the coffee back on and grab the newpair of pants. Seeing as how no one else is high enough to see into the windows, or lives with us, and Aeris is at work -- Friday, thank gods -- I just slip them on in the kitchen.
Sure, I fall flat on my ass once, but I'll live. . .
As soon as that's done and my old pair are tossed into the laundry basket, I turn on the news and check the mail on the table. Nothing new has come up in Miklen's case, which is finding who killed Tseng. I stick out my tongue at his scowl on the screen and flip through the envelopes. Mostly a bunch of local things, one a newsletter from Mako Dreams I ordered under a fake name, but the bottom catches my eye.
Something few know about me, I have a sister in Kalm. Now that most have forgotten the long-haired face on the front page of the news, I've contacted a few of my old friends. She, Kline Bauchner, lives with her husband on the top level. I gave her my address incase something came up that I needed to know about, but this one is addressed from her husband himself. He's never sent me anything, so you can see the reason for my concern, right?
I slide my fingernail -- vampiric-long, just to be different -- in one of the corners and start to open it.
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!
Instead of ringing, our phone gives three beeps in little groups, something that sounds way too much like a smoke alarm for my ears. The letter falls forgotten to the table and I stride to the stove, turning off the steaming coffee and picking up the phone in one swift arm-sweep. "Jolteve household. Jim speaking." Jim Jolteve sounds so backwater I just had to call myself that.
"Get down to the bookstore as soon as you can, would you?" Aeris. It's my year off; I shouldn't have to walk anywhere. "Remember how you said I could rent out the place for a little while?"
My mind actually goes back this far. I slap myself in the head and mutter thanks to its selectiveness under my breath. "Yeah, vaguely. Why?" I scratch my neck and reach for the coffee pot, balancing the phone while I reach in the dishwasher for a cup. "Kinda blurred, but didn't you say you'd put an ad in the paper?" I coulda sworn. . .
"Uh, no," she answers choppily, and I hear a cash register blip in the background. Oh, well. It seemed reasonable to assume. "C'mon, I've got the guy down here now and he needs some help with the rest of his stuff."
Rest? "Rest?"
"You sleep that hard?"
"I probably had a few drinks before I drifted off that I don't remember. Don't dodge the question." I reach in the fridge and get an apple out. Breakfast is a tight budget around here for me. I'm probably so thin because I have coffee and a piece of fruit every morning. Aeris just has metabolism; eats sausage and eggs each morning and still looks good on both levels.
"Right. We moved about half of it in last night, and now he's just got a couch and a few small things to get up there." Another cash register goes off. "You owe it to him."
I stab a little stick-demon in the side of the apple with my fingernail. "And why's that?" I don't really feel like moving from the villa today, anyway. If I do, though, I could go out to the Cougar, get it opened, and grab what we haven't had around for a month or so. "Complete stranger, probably looking for a place to live, and I suddenly owe him help? I may feel hungover, but my mind's sharp enough." Does she think I'm stupid?
Silence for a few moments. And then, "Kala's husband. He got us the Mako Dreams tickets. I hope my selection wasn't too bad?" I can almost hear her smile over the phone. "He's gotta run for now, but just come down and I'll show you what's his. Right inside the bookstore, now."
I give an immediate affirmation. Jinaisim Mukau, husband of Kala, lead vocalist of Mako Dreams. My idol's spouse, probably forbidden to tag along on tour, will be sharing a living space with me. If my head didn't still pound, I'd be belting out Blacklist as loud as possible and making some big breakfast for myself. My coat slips on almost unconsciously and I'm out the door.
* * * * *
A few small things? My ass. He had a couch, a dresser, a mattress, and a complete drumset to move upstairs. Not to mention I'll never get to see the guy. He'll be out of town for about a week, but promises to pay his rent, as he told me over the phone.
Fine-dee-doo. Then he can move his own shit out when he leaves. The drums sit unassembled infront of me in the basement. I'm on a folding-chair at just past 2:30 in the afternoon with a cup of fruitjuice, wondering if it's really worth it to set them up for him. He'll be gone for a week, and sure, there's a note on the cymbal to put them up immediately, but hell, how's he gonna know? On the phone he sounded like a stuck-up bastard anyway.
I snort, take my juice with me as i go upstairs. Drinks are for dinner, I agreed with Aeris, so she didn't find me passed out and think I'd died. . .again. Oh, she'd blown a fuse that night when I woke up. I grin as I ascend the stairs and blink in the sudden light. Appears the basement was darker than I thought with just candles and a lantern around.
I grunt it off and walk into the kitchen, putting the bottle in the fridge and looking around. I'd cleaned between contemplations of whether or not to set those things up, but the letter's still on the floor. Too far down to pick up. Jinaisim gave me loads of work and I haven't even met him yet. No pictures in the magazines of him, no description of what he looks like. Hell, if Kala's name wasn't on the wedding ring in one of his bags I'd gone through -- sue me, so what? -- I would question his being on-the-level.
Three. . . I bend knees. Two. . . Arms swing out to my sides. One. . . Aim toward the letter. ZOOM! I hit the waxed floor like a bullet and slide acros, grabbing the letter on the way and going into a head-over-heels roll as soon as I hit the carpet. God, I love this house. Too many things a big-kid like me can do.
Aeris is standing there when I look up, frowning disapprovingly before plucking the letter out of my hand and ripping the top off of it. "You're not big enough to read it yourself," she mocks. It's Friday, so she gets off early. I stare at the ceiling so I don't have to go through all this from last night again.
The letter falls in the side of my face suddenly, and I knock it off when I look to see her with a dreading look in her eyes and a stun-still expression on her face. I don't need to read it. And I don't read it. Kline lived her entire life with a heart condition, probably where I got my newfound one from. It kept increasing in severity until another attack could mean death. I spent the life I had caring about Father looking up to Kline, wanting to be as popular as she was, wanting all her friends. She was my idol, and did whatever she could for me.
And even as Aeris kneels down and lays my unresponsive head in her lap, smoothing back my hair, I just know one thing. The only think I need to know right now. She's dead. . .oh, God. . .she's dead. . .
Author's Note Two: I'm breaking milestones. Received 150 total reviews, submitted over 100 myself, 11 people with me as a favorite author, almost 60 reviews on this little gem, but stuck with a dreaded disease. Curable, sure. But pesky. So, until I get some help, you may not see me around much for awhile. Damn writer's block. ( C'mon, who'd I almost fool there? ) While fighting my writer's block, I went to see Eight Crazy Nights at 7:00. I'm aimed to be able to tie my shoes and speak in a good three weeks. Yes, I'm purposely making the names weird. When were you last talking a to Sephiroth, Aeris, or Red XIII, huh? Wouldn't it be fucked if we threw in a whole bunch of Toms and Bobs and Bills?
Author's Note Three: Okay, this thing's taken me over ten days and it's PISSING ME OFF. Right now I'm addicted to the wonderful Flash Flash Revolution ( Take that, bastards! 203-move combo! ) and trying to sort some things out with the school assholes. Not to mention I'm looking at getting paid to help sixth grade summer school and they're not too thrilled about it. Anyway. I don't know if you're aware, but as of December 28, I'll have been writing Fics for a year. Go me. Throw me a party or give me an award or something? Also, I've hit my stage again. If you see a Malkavian cos-playing Fujin anytime soon, run up and mention Mako Dreams. I'll talk to ya. ;) ( Prize to the first person who can find out what Mukau means. )
Author's Note Four: GOOD GOD! I'M SITTING HERE AND FINISHING IT RIGHT NOW! By the way, if you want, email me to be added to the update mailing list. It's short, but deal with it, dammit. This is pissing me off beyond all return.
Silver Rose
by Reno Spiegel
Dante@towernetwork.net
December 2, 3076
Morning. Villa. Costa del Sol. 6:19 A.M.
"You're a fan." - Jinaisim, Costa del Sol Books
Morning. Jesus, I feel like I've got the hangover to end them all. My head throbs, my muscles ache, and my eyes hurt so bad I can't open them. Maybe I'm dead. Yes, maybe I died and went to Hell as many have told me to do over the years. Ah, release. Sweet, sweet release. I can open my wings, fly, soar into the heavens any time I want to now.
The alarm clock sounds next to me.
Bang. There goes the rifle, one of my wings is out, and I'm spiralling down to the Planet again. Oh, well. Nice while it lasted. Three, two, one, impact. Groan. Fuck the day. I don't want to wake up and meet it this time around. My hand almost crushes the poor pocket-sized travel clock when I turn the alarm off, then drag myself from the bed and walk to the window on the cold floor.
The sun peeks over the horizon, skips across the water, and reflects directly into my eyes. It meets my center finger and I close the shades. Six-thirty in the morning and I'm already waiting for sunset. Pathetic? I wonder as I stride out of the room, into the living room, and find the new pants and newspaper on the couch for me.
Nope, just stupid, I figure. I look over the paper. No interesting news, except for the mention of the concert I'm heading to with Aeris. I try to remember last night, but my heads pounds, mostly from frustration, so I turn the coffee back on and grab the newpair of pants. Seeing as how no one else is high enough to see into the windows, or lives with us, and Aeris is at work -- Friday, thank gods -- I just slip them on in the kitchen.
Sure, I fall flat on my ass once, but I'll live. . .
As soon as that's done and my old pair are tossed into the laundry basket, I turn on the news and check the mail on the table. Nothing new has come up in Miklen's case, which is finding who killed Tseng. I stick out my tongue at his scowl on the screen and flip through the envelopes. Mostly a bunch of local things, one a newsletter from Mako Dreams I ordered under a fake name, but the bottom catches my eye.
Something few know about me, I have a sister in Kalm. Now that most have forgotten the long-haired face on the front page of the news, I've contacted a few of my old friends. She, Kline Bauchner, lives with her husband on the top level. I gave her my address incase something came up that I needed to know about, but this one is addressed from her husband himself. He's never sent me anything, so you can see the reason for my concern, right?
I slide my fingernail -- vampiric-long, just to be different -- in one of the corners and start to open it.
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!
Instead of ringing, our phone gives three beeps in little groups, something that sounds way too much like a smoke alarm for my ears. The letter falls forgotten to the table and I stride to the stove, turning off the steaming coffee and picking up the phone in one swift arm-sweep. "Jolteve household. Jim speaking." Jim Jolteve sounds so backwater I just had to call myself that.
"Get down to the bookstore as soon as you can, would you?" Aeris. It's my year off; I shouldn't have to walk anywhere. "Remember how you said I could rent out the place for a little while?"
My mind actually goes back this far. I slap myself in the head and mutter thanks to its selectiveness under my breath. "Yeah, vaguely. Why?" I scratch my neck and reach for the coffee pot, balancing the phone while I reach in the dishwasher for a cup. "Kinda blurred, but didn't you say you'd put an ad in the paper?" I coulda sworn. . .
"Uh, no," she answers choppily, and I hear a cash register blip in the background. Oh, well. It seemed reasonable to assume. "C'mon, I've got the guy down here now and he needs some help with the rest of his stuff."
Rest? "Rest?"
"You sleep that hard?"
"I probably had a few drinks before I drifted off that I don't remember. Don't dodge the question." I reach in the fridge and get an apple out. Breakfast is a tight budget around here for me. I'm probably so thin because I have coffee and a piece of fruit every morning. Aeris just has metabolism; eats sausage and eggs each morning and still looks good on both levels.
"Right. We moved about half of it in last night, and now he's just got a couch and a few small things to get up there." Another cash register goes off. "You owe it to him."
I stab a little stick-demon in the side of the apple with my fingernail. "And why's that?" I don't really feel like moving from the villa today, anyway. If I do, though, I could go out to the Cougar, get it opened, and grab what we haven't had around for a month or so. "Complete stranger, probably looking for a place to live, and I suddenly owe him help? I may feel hungover, but my mind's sharp enough." Does she think I'm stupid?
Silence for a few moments. And then, "Kala's husband. He got us the Mako Dreams tickets. I hope my selection wasn't too bad?" I can almost hear her smile over the phone. "He's gotta run for now, but just come down and I'll show you what's his. Right inside the bookstore, now."
I give an immediate affirmation. Jinaisim Mukau, husband of Kala, lead vocalist of Mako Dreams. My idol's spouse, probably forbidden to tag along on tour, will be sharing a living space with me. If my head didn't still pound, I'd be belting out Blacklist as loud as possible and making some big breakfast for myself. My coat slips on almost unconsciously and I'm out the door.
* * * * *
A few small things? My ass. He had a couch, a dresser, a mattress, and a complete drumset to move upstairs. Not to mention I'll never get to see the guy. He'll be out of town for about a week, but promises to pay his rent, as he told me over the phone.
Fine-dee-doo. Then he can move his own shit out when he leaves. The drums sit unassembled infront of me in the basement. I'm on a folding-chair at just past 2:30 in the afternoon with a cup of fruitjuice, wondering if it's really worth it to set them up for him. He'll be gone for a week, and sure, there's a note on the cymbal to put them up immediately, but hell, how's he gonna know? On the phone he sounded like a stuck-up bastard anyway.
I snort, take my juice with me as i go upstairs. Drinks are for dinner, I agreed with Aeris, so she didn't find me passed out and think I'd died. . .again. Oh, she'd blown a fuse that night when I woke up. I grin as I ascend the stairs and blink in the sudden light. Appears the basement was darker than I thought with just candles and a lantern around.
I grunt it off and walk into the kitchen, putting the bottle in the fridge and looking around. I'd cleaned between contemplations of whether or not to set those things up, but the letter's still on the floor. Too far down to pick up. Jinaisim gave me loads of work and I haven't even met him yet. No pictures in the magazines of him, no description of what he looks like. Hell, if Kala's name wasn't on the wedding ring in one of his bags I'd gone through -- sue me, so what? -- I would question his being on-the-level.
Three. . . I bend knees. Two. . . Arms swing out to my sides. One. . . Aim toward the letter. ZOOM! I hit the waxed floor like a bullet and slide acros, grabbing the letter on the way and going into a head-over-heels roll as soon as I hit the carpet. God, I love this house. Too many things a big-kid like me can do.
Aeris is standing there when I look up, frowning disapprovingly before plucking the letter out of my hand and ripping the top off of it. "You're not big enough to read it yourself," she mocks. It's Friday, so she gets off early. I stare at the ceiling so I don't have to go through all this from last night again.
The letter falls in the side of my face suddenly, and I knock it off when I look to see her with a dreading look in her eyes and a stun-still expression on her face. I don't need to read it. And I don't read it. Kline lived her entire life with a heart condition, probably where I got my newfound one from. It kept increasing in severity until another attack could mean death. I spent the life I had caring about Father looking up to Kline, wanting to be as popular as she was, wanting all her friends. She was my idol, and did whatever she could for me.
And even as Aeris kneels down and lays my unresponsive head in her lap, smoothing back my hair, I just know one thing. The only think I need to know right now. She's dead. . .oh, God. . .she's dead. . .