A.N: only that I really really like constructive criticism. And that I really dislike dealing with prepositions. Sometimes it's so tempting to leave them at the end of sentences, granting that it sounds better, in some cases.
D.C: it's a fanfic. Of course it's not mine. (it is my writing, tho.)

Protectress: gosh, thanks pal! *handshake and goofy smile* and would convert you to the army of Twin Fangirls, but that would mean more competition, and I have enough trouble convincing kit that Two is, indeed, mine. Hehehe. And I'm still working on those cards. (not actually making them, but figuring out viable and probable notes inside them)

Kit: I'm so glad you thought it was funny because I was trying to be without actually being funny. like that makes any sense. And quit flattering me, it's unhealthy for my ego. It gets fat and overinflated. Hehe. HAPPY NEW YEAR! Oh yeah. Have you seen Scrooge? The English version from the seventies or eighties or something? There's this part in there where they mention Smith, Jones, and Brown in a song. I dunno, I thought it was funny. ^^;

Pandora the Brave

Chapter 13

The Merovingian sat in his armchair, a cigarette in one hand, a goblet of merlot in the other. He was relaxed in the great, expensive drawing room, surrounded by exterior wealth taking the forms of ancient urns, slabs of hieroglyphs, and statuettes from multitudes of civilizations. This drawing room was his own, personal and private; none but Persephone had ever been allowed to remain more than brief moments, and she herself was restricted to only necessary speech. It was the Unwritten Law.

Yet to his left, on a small couch, sat two young women, known as Eris and Ate to a privileged few. Until that very night, they had been his employees, working as spies and researchers wherever their trails led them. Like many of his detectives, they had been sent after the legendary Pandora's Box, and like many of his detectives, they had thought him quite mad. Then, by chance, memory flickered, and a lost warning from a lost friend resurfaced in their minds. So when the rest of the detectives found the trail run cold, they two managed to track it further than any had before them. They tracked it to a girl, lost her, and found her again. They were usually the last to report on a case, but they were usually the most informed. They were precise; they were efficient; they were detailed.

Eris and Ate had changed their outfits somewhere between the café and the drawing room, and were now wearing chitons and himatia, their tied hair up in fillets. Even with the artifacts around them, their Greek costume contrasted with the strictly Victorian décor. Together they sat, bored, waiting for Persephone to return. Eris felt vaguely oppressed by the splendour of the room, while her sister Ate tried to suppress urges to tip over the fragile urns.

After Eris had to snatch Ate's wrist to prevent her from vandalising the bust on the table, footsteps sounded down the hall, and the Merovingian stiffened. Persephone opened the door and stepped inside, followed by the Virii Twins. As per courtesy, the Merovingian stood until his wife sat down, and then he fell back into the chair. He was too exasperated and exhausted to notice that Ate was grinning ridiculously at one of the Twins, who was trying to ignore her. Eris was avoiding the gaze of the other, who was focusing on the carpet to avoid her.

But no one noticed.

"D'accords," the Merovingian sighed. "Start aht ze beginning, and don't dahre be confuszing."

~@~

It was raining, a cold rain. November winds beat upon the windowpanes, casting shadowy spots in the dreary darkness. Several dolls lay discarded on the floor; shimmers of glitter floated in the air; a pot of glue lay overturned on the carpet. A pair of scissors sat near bits of string and doily; a shoe box full of art supplies, with markers, tulle, sequins, stamps, and paint bottles spilling over the sides, stood in childlike splendor at the foot of a white, ruffled bed. In the darkness, a girl lay upon it, surrounded in satin and lace like a doll. She moved not; she breathed not. Her tight golden curls fell about her face like a halo; she was the perfect porcelain effigy of a Victorian cherub.

She blinked.

Boredom reigned in the white room, for Pandora had long since abandoned her dolls and finished her cards, and solitaire was a game left incomplete near her feet. She stared off, lost in thought, while the room sank into deeper hues of blue as evening fell. It was probably the first time in her life Pandora had entertained any truly abstract ideas. They didn't frighten her, but they were foreign, intriguing, worth dwelling on. Finally, she rose, shoving her musings away for substance, action. And what was more adventurous than exploring? In a big house like this, she could go camping. Or at least on safari. Pandora smiled. After rummaging in her trunk, she pulled out a small brown messenger bag, quickly filling it with the essentials: candle, matches, flashlight, granola bars, cards, Play-Doh knife (for protection), and markers. She looked back in the trunk and pulled out a safari helmet. Taking a moment to think, Pandora stood biting her lip before stuffing a pad of paper into the bag. She slung the messenger bag over one shoulder and pulled the hat over her curls, checking herself in the mirror. Satisfied, she scribbled a short note as to her whereabouts, picked up a thumbtack in passing, and stepped out of the room. Neatly closing the door behind her, locking it with a small brass key, and swiftly tacking her note to the door, Pandora set off down the hallway, excitement flickering in her eyes; twenty minutes after she had tucked the tiny key into a pocket of her bag, she found herself in the basement where she wandered, terrified of things shrouded in blackness, clutching her bag to her side.

~@~

November 21, raining

I don't generally have the pleasure of entertaining guests, but today I was presented the perfect opportunity for such occasion. This evening, whilst I was engaged in the practice of stealth, although I daresay I'm by far the most talented, I encountered a most strange apparition wandering my shadowed halls. I was at first shocked by this child's audacity, but my reason took to explain for her: no doubt, she did not realize where she was. She roved these dark stone halls like child-ghost gone astray, and I could nearly smell the fear at her own loneliness and her fear at the darkness creeping closer pouring off her. Precious child. I sought to bring her to my quarters, for there I could properly receive guests, but upon sighting me the dear bird tore down the hall, shrieking like the banshee I now take her to be. I suppose that should I have been more direct in my approach, instead of taking her shoulder. How could my people skills have diminished so? I used to be a wonder in the arts of human entertainment.

--Vlad

~@~

After a looming giant had tried to eat her, Pandora had fled, shrieking. As she had run, she had encountered more shadows, these with gleaming fangs and dripping claws. She turned down a corridor and sprinted to the door at its end. Throwing it open, she flew up the stairs, aware of thousands of evils snapping at her heels. Her child's imagination had cooked up a great multitude of horrors to yearn for her flesh, and they chased her unceasingly. When she finally reached the landing at the top of the stairwell, she burst through the door and slammed it shut behind her. Safe it at last, she let herself slide to the floor, breathing heavily. Instantly her rationality chastised her imagination, calling it foolish and childish. Pandora sighed; she had been very silly to think that monsters had chased her down the hall. Looking up, Pandora took in her surroundings and gathered that she was in a familiar hallway. However familiar it was, though, she had several doors to attend to yet, and her adventures continued.

The first door led to another hallway. Pandora made a mental note to explore it later, and she continued her search for adventure. The second and third doors each led to small museum-like rooms with paintings, statues, and other "old stuff," as she called it. The fourth door was also museum-like, but there were people inside. She did not care to notice them, although they certainly noticed her. She simply ignored them and poked about the shelves and tables until one called her name.

"Pandora?" a voice she recognized as Persephone's called.

Pandora sighed and turned.

"Oh my gods…" Persephone breathed.

"Merde! Jeune fille! Qu'est-ce vous avez fait?! Fou! Fou, fou, fou! Tu souhaites me pousser à fou!" the Merovingian cried in surprise.

The Twins only stared.

Assuming that she was dirty or that she was not supposed to be in the room, she muttered a quick apology and made for the door.

"ARRETES!"

Pandora had no idea what that meant, and she guessed that it meant hurry or something similar, so she ran for the door.

"Stop at once, tu fille imprudent!" the Merovingian yelled.

She turned around, terrified, and she stared at the occupants of the room like a deer caught in headlights. Two women she had never seen before sat on a couch near the Merovingian's left hand; on his right sat the Twins and Persephone, the latter nearer to him than the former. Pandora began pouring out her apologies, quite against her nature, but for fear of the dungeons, she would do most anything. Inwardly, she hated the Merovingian as each second drew on. However, she had no sooner begun before he stopped her. The two women smiled, one jovially and the other condescendingly.

"Ah," said one.

The other said, "This must be the girl."

"Hello, Pandora," said the first. "I—"

The second interrupted and said, "She need not be present for the rest of this conversation, and as I gather from your reactions, it would be prudent if she left. Goodbye, child."

Instantly, Pandora's anger flared. "I am no child!" she snapped.

The second woman smirked and said softly, "But you are." Louder she added, "Now go."

"Stop, Pandora," the Merovingian said. He turned quickly to one of the women and snapped, "I give orders here, not you." He turned back to Pandora and demanded, "Now explain yourself."

Pandora looked at him, bewildered.

Persephone whispered, "What happened to you?"

"Huh?" Pandora asked, most ungracefully.

"Well, weasel," began Two.

"You seem to be older," finished One, with an air of finality.

"Ah," the second woman intoned. "Now I understand. I can explain quite simply, so long as the child is not present."

"I'm not a little kid!" snapped Pandora.

The first woman, who seemed to have been thinking throughout the entirety of the conversation, said quietly, "Child or no, you still have to leave. If you heard what we are about to say, you would get hurt. Now." Her voice strengthened and seemed impossible to disobey. "You must leave at once. But we will let you back in."

Pandora mumbled something sulkily and left grudgingly. Once outside, she sighed.

Inside the room, Ate said to her companion, "You are so rash sometimes. You did not need to be so rude. You could have just asked her to step outside for a moment."

"Shut up," Eris snapped. "None of you quite understand the seriousness of this issue. Pandora has apparently aged already."

"Quel l'enfer? You are speaking nonsense," the Merovingian snapped.

"If you would let me finish, it just might make sense to you," Eris said impatient and impertinent.

"That's it!" Ate cried. "Nobody talks until I finish! First, Pandora's appearance is based on her mental age. Obviously, she's learned a life lesson and has aged accordingly. Second, she's gonna get old up to a certain point, and then she'll be so enlightened that she'll be like an angel, and will appear thus. The problem with this is that she will be so disconnected with reality she'll be almost like a vegetable. Third, the coming circumstances will actually increase her growth rate or what have you. Fourth, the older she gets, the harder it will be for us to help her. And fifth, if we can't help her defeat Nemesis, we're all screwed because she has no idea how to fight. There, now you can talk."

Persephone sighed. "I know what will come of this," she said. "I'm not happy."

"No one said you had to be," Ate replied.

"Well," the Merovingian said. "Now zhat zhat 'as been settled, per'aps you would not mind explaining one more sing to me."

"Depends on what it is," snapped Eris. Ate kicked her.

The Merovingian narrowed his eyes, but continued, "Why is it Pandora zhat 'as to fight zis… Nemesis? Ah'm sure zeh Tvins could easily vahnquisss such a foe."

"Oh," Ate said, "there is no doubt in my mind they could do so easily." She smiled coquettishly at Two. "However, Nemesis would probably just annihilate them because they were around when Rhea was killed. It's nothing to do with who can and cannot take Nemesis on, it's to do with who won't be killed by default. So, we have this fairly new program-remainder-thingy, who conveniently carries Nemesis. Why not get Pandora to fight Nemesis for us?"

"Alright," the Merovingian acquiesced. "Alright, just so long as it is done, Ah don't cahre. Now all ahv you, get ouht!"

~@~

Pandora continued her wanderings for several hours, poking around and finding interesting rooms and parlours. Eventually, these became boring as well, and Pandora decided to venture out into the night to see to the gardens. Even though it was only six-thirty, the sun had long since set.

Surprised to see that someone had turned on the lights in the gardens, Pandora stealthily slipped from shadow to shadow, keeping herself fairly well hidden. She first came upon Two and the nice woman from the drawing room. They sat together on a stone bench near a fountain. Her laugh echoed against the flagstone walk, but it was not an eerie sound. In fact, it was rather a joyous sound. With the perpetually blooming flowers, her laugh gave the cold night some life. The wind stole most of the conversation, however, and Pandora only caught a few words, mostly 'Ate' in reference to the woman. Pandora watched them for a while, and for some reason unknown to her, she felt calm in their presence. There was some comfort in seeing them laugh together. Pandora did not understand why her heart fluttered when they kissed, but she thought it was the sweetest thing she had seen in her entire life.

Pandora moved away and quickly found One and the other, more snappish woman. She seemed very different, though. She was quiet and wore a peaceful smile as she sat in One's arms. Even though she wanted to hate the woman for being mean to her, Pandora found that she could not. The two seemed so calm together. Something was passing between them that she could not understand. She recognized it as the same thing that had passed between Two and Ate, but this was deeper. It was some kind of connection that allowed the two to sit next to each other and not say a word but to somehow understand everything. Puzzled, Pandora went back inside with much on her little mind.

~MnI~

more sap! … er, it wasn't intentional. But again, that seems to be the only reason I can get Pandora to … grow. Yes. So, please, review. Even though there's a chapter after this to read as soon as I get bored which will be soon considering school has started again. Review. It will  make the sappiness go away. Maybe. Uh… *cough* right. So, review. And on to chapter something. And biggest question: is this making any sense? (Kit, I hope you liked Vlad's diary!!! You so know he has one!)