My muses beat me up. I don't think they like the idea of starting fics over, because now they're sulking in the character closet. *whines* Weren't muses supposed to be for help and support?
Jorntil: *hissing* We're original.
; Anyway. On with it; I've been putting this off too long for the sake of school and Shaman King and…family troubles, let us say. And from Return's final chapter, I'm really thankful to Hikari no Yami and hiei-luver45 for avid support of the Ozuma/Joseph pairing, which I AM incorporating here; Fyredra (fenne?), for your very helpful comments and…um…okay. This is simpler. *tackles and hugs* SANKYUUUU!; Draconis Gion for not going through with killing me just yet…and, everyone else who stuck with my fic chapter through chapter and didn't abandon it due to sheer disgust.
Okay, enough babble. *flexes fingers* Let's get on with it, shall we?
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Homecomings, Chapter 1
April 23rd -
It's been a while since I've written last, wouldn't you say? It's not as though there's been much to say anything about. Yeah, school's out and I can wait awhile, laze around and travel, see my old friends again…you know? Sucks a bit, actually. Sure, I gave my mail address to Daichi and Anabelle, but I won't see them again for awhile unless they lied and actually do live here in Europe. I plan to pay them a visit soon if time allows, though. After all, c'mon. Without them, three years' worth of prison time (just joking) would have been pretty…what's the word? Pretty horrid.
On the upside, I'm here at last. Free of boarding school (of course they wouldn't let me in the kitchens, and the food there was just so positively…ugh…) and on a plane to Italy to meet up with the guys. Feels like so long ago that we actually became a team of bladers, but then technically it was, I guess. Is Enrique still a mad skirt-chaser? Is Johnny still a hothead and has Robert fixed his fashion sense? Hah. Guess they'd better not see this entry. Well, I'll find out soon enough.
Yeah, back to Beyblading again, I suppose. The World Championships are coming up (and yes, if when we get to the finals, we'll be up against the Bladebreakers again), of course, but meantime our team gets to enter into some of the larger tournaments this year. It's funny, really. Three years out of the running because I'm not there, and the Majestics get their fresh debut at last. I've practiced, of course (Beyblading is everywhere. Why not at a distinguished boarding school?) but it really isn't the same. Not without my Unicolyon.
…speaking of which, Enrique had better have taken care of her, or I swear I will skewer him with the family launcher. I trust him, though, more than I ever trusted the other students. Better than having her stolen altogether. Do you know how many times I caught some kid snooping through my things, hoping to snatch themselves a free Bitbeast? Not a chance.
"Monsieur Polanski?"
The young Frenchman's pen paused, its owner quickly covering the journal on his lap with a slim hand. He looked inquiringly up at the hostess who had stopped by his seat, offering a pleasant smile. "Oui?"
"Monsieur, we shall be descending soon. Would you be so kind as to fasten your seatbelt and prepare?"
Eagerness chased mild surprise over handsome features. "Yes, thank you."
She walked off down the aisle, and he fastened the belt as instructed, before taking a long look out the window. A sea of lights spread welcomingly out in the darkness below, coming ever nearer. The pilot's voice crackled through the intercom, announcing the promised landing. Around him, other sleepy passengers in the first class stirred, rubbing the drowsiness from their eyes.
Tearing his eyes away from the approaching ground, he checked his faint reflection in the frosted glass. Wide, bright amethyst eyes were the most noticeable feature in a face slimmed by ageing, accented by a pert nose and a mouth that always tilted up just the slightest bit at one corner. The attractive (some would almost say pretty) visage was accented by longish chartreuse bangs, curling softly to the shoulders of a dove-gray jacket and held in place by a beret of the same colour.
He winked at the image, turning to scrawl a few more lines into what little space was left.
Well, this is it – I'm back. Here's to a happy return, I hope.
~Oliver
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It burned, a circle of ice-cold fire against his chest, and he welcomed the feeling. It was almost pain, but he felt something that hadn't been there for the longest time. An emotion. Unicolyon hadn't liked being left with him much, and all he'd felt from her was a sort of cold indifference, no matter how much his own Bitbeast vouched for him. And now she was pulsing –hesitation-confusion-apprehension-worry-joy- in great waves across his skin.
It could only mean one thing, of course – she could sense her master coming. Enrique straightened his clothing, straining his vision and jumping every time he glimpsed a flash of bright green. The airport was unusually busy for this time of night-
"Argh! OW! Ow ow ow ow ow!"
He tugged the bit-chip away from his unprotected flesh, wincing. That had really hurt, almost like she'd tried to skewer him with an invisible lance, and he wasn't risking the unicorn spirit's uncontrolled anxiety again. She'd burned him. He slipped the chain back over his head; she didn't belong with him at all. The bit glowed brilliant pink, radiating a sort of frozen heat in a painful corona.
It tugged him sideways, and there was a flash of green and gray, and then the person he hadn't seen for such a long time was suddenly there, right in front of his eyes, older, taller, more somberly dressed, maybe, but finally returned.
"Enrique, that you?"
His voice was familiar too, well-remembered. Perhaps a bit deeper.
And then they were hugging, almost sobbing like a pair of girls at a teenage angstfest. The crowd made room and flowed around them, people were smiling; thinking they were a bit strange, perhaps. But smiling at the happy reunion between two good friends.
Unicolyon was warm in his hand, and apologetic as he pressed her into the hand of her proper master. In the depths of both their minds, a shrill whinny was heard, -welcome back.-
And so they went forth, a new chapter finally beginning to unfold.
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Hey. Me again XD I picked a really ironic day to restart this, Ash Wednesday, because it's a day of fasting and abstinence. And because I can never get myself to abstain from the computer past noon, I decided to finally do something productive and write again. Baka me. I get so many projects started, and never finish them…blecch. I had *such* a hard time rewriting the beginning of this – I deleted at least five prospective intros before I was satisfied. I know the 'diary entry' approach is uber-cheap, but come ON. You try and get into an older, more mature, somewhat personality-changed Oliver's head and still try to make it sound like him. Grrr…but I'm trying for longer chapters this time (not including A/Ns) to make up for my lack of speed. See? Even when inspired it took over a week to complete. The last sentence, therefore, has double meaning. *crooked smile*
One more note before I am murdered by someone: Ignore V-Force. Pretend it happened somewhere else or whatever. Because I spent a lot of time thinking out the plot for the Championships, and Bitbeasts for the original teams, and then I went and watched V-Force and half my ideas were, you know, poof. I'm not even going to try and think up new ones – deal with it.
…And sadly, Zeo, Gordo, King, Queen and the Psykicks might not get more than a cameo appearance. Gomen to their fans, and see you all in the next chapter, whenever I be productive enough to turn it out. ^_^v