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Eika: (screams in frustration)
Day three of internet connection having failed. Everything except a mechanic tried.
Sorry, I was going to update, but my internet service has other plans.
Kill Joy.
~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~
I wake up to find sand soft on one hand, my tail curled around one leg, a splitting headache, and a growing sense of a dry mouth.
What the heck am I doing here?
Spitting out sand, I form a mental picture of the ocean nearby, an area of where I left (leaving a five mile margin for error) and where I landed most likely, with an aching shoulder and a tail hanging limply at my side as I stand up from being used too much too long after weeks (or week) of inactivity. Looking around, I spot the first landmark in my mental map from being dumped without food or water for who-knows-HOW-long on the far side of the continent 'til I found my way back at the age of six. Very unpleasant, but if that forest is the one I think it is, I'm very far from home indeed.
Entering the trees, I groan at the oh-so-familiar landmark that reaches my eyes first thing: A large pile of dragon bones arranged in a teepee. Sure, a few bones have been broken away by desperate predators, but the overall construction remains intact.
My first successful attempt at 'not wasting parts of a creature: An exercise in monster entrails'. Exact quote, took me months to master. Must've heard that lecture, what, a billion times? Two billion?
Who cares anymore? It means I'm hundreds of miles from home, and who knows WHERE I'll find a stream for water in this place.
Walking past the teepee with a sigh, I close my eyes so I won't have to see the endless desert that lies before me immediately.
*Splash!*
Lesson two: Always make camp in easy reach of water. I fight my way- easily, since it's shallow- to the top of the stream. Standing up, I am in a ditch three feet deep with water around my knees. I can distinctly feel fish tasting me and deciding I'm no good.
Leaning down, I take a big handful and drink. . . and drink. . . and drink. MUCH better than that stuff they gave me back there. Cool from running everywhere and fresher than you'd believe.
Leaning down after having satisfied my thirst, I look closely in the slightly-murky water. Swiftly capturing a fish with my left hand, I hang onto it with my tail. Hands closing over another, I smile at the prospect of the first good meal in a while. Since. . . never mind then.
Splash!
A third. And this one's big, too.
Climbing out of the pool, I lay the fish in the broken bone shelter. Gathering some dry grass and a few nearby twigs, I make a fire quickly. Killing and taking out the fish's internal organs, I stick them on a stick sharpened by my dagger. Sticking them over the fire, I turn it until they begin to brown. Taking them off, I start to eat, using sand for flavoring.
Delicious.
Sticking a few organs onto the stick, I quickly cook them, too. You would not believe how delicious the liver and lungs are. Much better after weeks of Jerky.
Settling down to finish eating, I outline a plan in my mind. First, I'd better stay here for the rest of the day and night. I'll eat the fish and smoke some for food on the road, spend the night here and move on in the morning. Fish skin easily holds water if cut a certain way, so I'll have a water supply with them, too.
Smiling, I jump back into the shallow stream.
~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~
Taking the time now to explore my prison, I look around. Ignoring my shaking legs, I check the similar interior room and close the door this time, sitting on the space provided and shaking. And crying a bit, too. This is all so strange, I'm scared, I miss Clara, I want to go home. . .
"Never make a promise you can't keep, punishment is severe." I whisper to myself, repeating the necessary rules for survival through my tears. "Lie in extreme situations and get off if not caught. If caught there's hell to pay. Act like you're calm, smooth, in control. Never let your feelings get the best of you, no matter the circumstances. Take no time for personal comforts, they make you weak. To destroy the enemy is your only goal. Don't take it one step at a time, ever; if you're not off and running the first chance you get you're dead. Look at the big picture, see all possible moves and do the impossible. Kill or be killed. Hurt or be hurt. Someone has to die, make sure it isn't you. The enemy can never be trusted, make no promises you can't keep."
'TO CRY IS A WEAKNESS, AND WEAKNESS IS PUNISHABLE ONLY BY DEATH!!!'
I stop crying, echoes of a lecture heard to many times floating through my head. Crying is an emotion. Showing emotion- this means shaking, too- shows weakness. Showing weakness means another's power over you. Another's power over you means instant death.
Sometimes, I really hate my life. ESPECIALLY when I remember the necessary rules of survival. Wiping my tears, I clench my eyes shut and try to stop them from coming. Slowly they stop, wiped from my eyes the instant they appear. Drying my face on the underarm of my sleeve, I stand up.
Outside that idiotic hopefully safe place, I walk around my limited area slowly. A perfect circle, the only land anywhere NEAR level with it is where they put me in here originally. I reach over and wrap one hand around a bar, not for support this time but to test it.
Metal: height x circumference: forty-six pounds. Metal type: WHAT THE HECK KIND OF METAL WEIGHS FORTY-SIX POUNDS?!?!?! The heaviest metal when measured one by ninety six is the diamond, at thirty-two pounds. This stuff isn't remotely clear, isn't diamond like, and WAY too heavy. Whatever it is, I'd better be careful. Quite obviously these people- correction, they're too dumb to be considered human; apes, then-aren't taking any chances.
Wrapping my other hand around the bar, I lean back. No response. I start to tug on it, to pull. No reaction. Using all my strength, I heave back with all my might.
What is this stuff MADE of?
Letting go of the bar, I drop to the floor of my prison. Testing this, I figure it's made of a mixture of iron, copper, and diamond; impossible to break with human hands, easily broken by a hard bash against stone.
Well, I can always ram the floor against the wall. But then again I can't, if I do I'll be disobeying a rule I grew up by. Yet I have to get out of here before I go insane, or worse yet, betray Uncle or Clara.
A creak above me, I struggle to take deep breaths and remain calm as I look up. I see, not to my surprise, the chain slowly being pulled up through the trapdoor. Struggling with my emotions, I go over and sit on the rectangular platform (which, to my surprise, is soft.) Here goes nothing.
~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~
Clara: Eika is happy again. Very happy. Three authors she likes have updated during and immediately after the time her internet was down.
Eika: AND I remembered the first story I ever read on here and reread it!
Clara: Yes, her sisters friend showed her and her sister a story on fanfiction.net and that's how she discovered it.
Eika: Read it! On my favorite stories list! It's funny!
Clara: In a perverted, demented sort of way. . .
Eika: Funny is funny. Read Nighttime Blitzball, ya? On my favorite stories list. Just not at night. Read only in the morning.
Clara: Why? I mean, they do have an insomnia warning at the beginning, but. . .
Eika: It gives you stuff to think about that you've never thought of before and desperately never want to think of again but can't help but puzzle over for a LONG while.
Clara: Translation?
Eika: You'll desperately want to forget the sickening jokes and unstable yet obvious plot but will have LOTS of trouble and want to reread it repeatedly even though you know you won't be able to forget it.
Clara: So?
Eika: It's funny, it's strange, and it takes stuff you never thought of and makes it real.
Clara: Ah. Review!
AIM service can't be reached
(clicks on Internet Explorer)
The page can not be displayed.
www.fanfiction.net
The page cannot be displayed.
www.fictionpress.com
The page cannot be displayed
Eika: (screams in frustration)
Day three of internet connection having failed. Everything except a mechanic tried.
Sorry, I was going to update, but my internet service has other plans.
Kill Joy.
~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~
I wake up to find sand soft on one hand, my tail curled around one leg, a splitting headache, and a growing sense of a dry mouth.
What the heck am I doing here?
Spitting out sand, I form a mental picture of the ocean nearby, an area of where I left (leaving a five mile margin for error) and where I landed most likely, with an aching shoulder and a tail hanging limply at my side as I stand up from being used too much too long after weeks (or week) of inactivity. Looking around, I spot the first landmark in my mental map from being dumped without food or water for who-knows-HOW-long on the far side of the continent 'til I found my way back at the age of six. Very unpleasant, but if that forest is the one I think it is, I'm very far from home indeed.
Entering the trees, I groan at the oh-so-familiar landmark that reaches my eyes first thing: A large pile of dragon bones arranged in a teepee. Sure, a few bones have been broken away by desperate predators, but the overall construction remains intact.
My first successful attempt at 'not wasting parts of a creature: An exercise in monster entrails'. Exact quote, took me months to master. Must've heard that lecture, what, a billion times? Two billion?
Who cares anymore? It means I'm hundreds of miles from home, and who knows WHERE I'll find a stream for water in this place.
Walking past the teepee with a sigh, I close my eyes so I won't have to see the endless desert that lies before me immediately.
*Splash!*
Lesson two: Always make camp in easy reach of water. I fight my way- easily, since it's shallow- to the top of the stream. Standing up, I am in a ditch three feet deep with water around my knees. I can distinctly feel fish tasting me and deciding I'm no good.
Leaning down, I take a big handful and drink. . . and drink. . . and drink. MUCH better than that stuff they gave me back there. Cool from running everywhere and fresher than you'd believe.
Leaning down after having satisfied my thirst, I look closely in the slightly-murky water. Swiftly capturing a fish with my left hand, I hang onto it with my tail. Hands closing over another, I smile at the prospect of the first good meal in a while. Since. . . never mind then.
Splash!
A third. And this one's big, too.
Climbing out of the pool, I lay the fish in the broken bone shelter. Gathering some dry grass and a few nearby twigs, I make a fire quickly. Killing and taking out the fish's internal organs, I stick them on a stick sharpened by my dagger. Sticking them over the fire, I turn it until they begin to brown. Taking them off, I start to eat, using sand for flavoring.
Delicious.
Sticking a few organs onto the stick, I quickly cook them, too. You would not believe how delicious the liver and lungs are. Much better after weeks of Jerky.
Settling down to finish eating, I outline a plan in my mind. First, I'd better stay here for the rest of the day and night. I'll eat the fish and smoke some for food on the road, spend the night here and move on in the morning. Fish skin easily holds water if cut a certain way, so I'll have a water supply with them, too.
Smiling, I jump back into the shallow stream.
~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~
Taking the time now to explore my prison, I look around. Ignoring my shaking legs, I check the similar interior room and close the door this time, sitting on the space provided and shaking. And crying a bit, too. This is all so strange, I'm scared, I miss Clara, I want to go home. . .
"Never make a promise you can't keep, punishment is severe." I whisper to myself, repeating the necessary rules for survival through my tears. "Lie in extreme situations and get off if not caught. If caught there's hell to pay. Act like you're calm, smooth, in control. Never let your feelings get the best of you, no matter the circumstances. Take no time for personal comforts, they make you weak. To destroy the enemy is your only goal. Don't take it one step at a time, ever; if you're not off and running the first chance you get you're dead. Look at the big picture, see all possible moves and do the impossible. Kill or be killed. Hurt or be hurt. Someone has to die, make sure it isn't you. The enemy can never be trusted, make no promises you can't keep."
'TO CRY IS A WEAKNESS, AND WEAKNESS IS PUNISHABLE ONLY BY DEATH!!!'
I stop crying, echoes of a lecture heard to many times floating through my head. Crying is an emotion. Showing emotion- this means shaking, too- shows weakness. Showing weakness means another's power over you. Another's power over you means instant death.
Sometimes, I really hate my life. ESPECIALLY when I remember the necessary rules of survival. Wiping my tears, I clench my eyes shut and try to stop them from coming. Slowly they stop, wiped from my eyes the instant they appear. Drying my face on the underarm of my sleeve, I stand up.
Outside that idiotic hopefully safe place, I walk around my limited area slowly. A perfect circle, the only land anywhere NEAR level with it is where they put me in here originally. I reach over and wrap one hand around a bar, not for support this time but to test it.
Metal: height x circumference: forty-six pounds. Metal type: WHAT THE HECK KIND OF METAL WEIGHS FORTY-SIX POUNDS?!?!?! The heaviest metal when measured one by ninety six is the diamond, at thirty-two pounds. This stuff isn't remotely clear, isn't diamond like, and WAY too heavy. Whatever it is, I'd better be careful. Quite obviously these people- correction, they're too dumb to be considered human; apes, then-aren't taking any chances.
Wrapping my other hand around the bar, I lean back. No response. I start to tug on it, to pull. No reaction. Using all my strength, I heave back with all my might.
What is this stuff MADE of?
Letting go of the bar, I drop to the floor of my prison. Testing this, I figure it's made of a mixture of iron, copper, and diamond; impossible to break with human hands, easily broken by a hard bash against stone.
Well, I can always ram the floor against the wall. But then again I can't, if I do I'll be disobeying a rule I grew up by. Yet I have to get out of here before I go insane, or worse yet, betray Uncle or Clara.
A creak above me, I struggle to take deep breaths and remain calm as I look up. I see, not to my surprise, the chain slowly being pulled up through the trapdoor. Struggling with my emotions, I go over and sit on the rectangular platform (which, to my surprise, is soft.) Here goes nothing.
~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~
Clara: Eika is happy again. Very happy. Three authors she likes have updated during and immediately after the time her internet was down.
Eika: AND I remembered the first story I ever read on here and reread it!
Clara: Yes, her sisters friend showed her and her sister a story on fanfiction.net and that's how she discovered it.
Eika: Read it! On my favorite stories list! It's funny!
Clara: In a perverted, demented sort of way. . .
Eika: Funny is funny. Read Nighttime Blitzball, ya? On my favorite stories list. Just not at night. Read only in the morning.
Clara: Why? I mean, they do have an insomnia warning at the beginning, but. . .
Eika: It gives you stuff to think about that you've never thought of before and desperately never want to think of again but can't help but puzzle over for a LONG while.
Clara: Translation?
Eika: You'll desperately want to forget the sickening jokes and unstable yet obvious plot but will have LOTS of trouble and want to reread it repeatedly even though you know you won't be able to forget it.
Clara: So?
Eika: It's funny, it's strange, and it takes stuff you never thought of and makes it real.
Clara: Ah. Review!
