What so shade is just a metaphor for sun? – Tripod
Strange dimensional vortex man
Strange dimensional vortex man
Locked in an epic battle with his unholy twin
And they sang as they fought in a kung fu style special effects bonanza
Whilst singing the song that they were also in! – Tripod (Sung to the tune of Waltzing Matilda)
Happy birthday to me
Happy birthday to me
Happy birthday dear overblown over extended endless piece of crap
Happy Birthday to me.
Recently at a 500 post party for Heather at the DBCA…
"Am I the only one whose noticing that Heather'sErik's sneaking away?" Adi spoke up cheerfully, trying to ignore the fact that her pay bounced and she had $6 to live on until it cleared.
"Apparently so." Julian shrugged.
Just Then Adi's Erik burst in and did a mad cackling dance around the room. Shouting and carousing exactly like her brother Josh (not the Les Mis one, the pre chapter entertainment one) always does. "Gone! You are so gone! Absolutely completely gone!"
There was a general "WTF?" on everyone's faces, especially Mel who actually knew Adi's actual brother and his actual attitude.
"Huh?" a drunk Gerry blinked, his towel slipping slightly.
A-Erik in the mean time was boogeying around the room, jamming on his air guitar. "Booh-yah! I did it! I did it! You're go-one!"
"Has he been in the spiked pink and black punch?" Heather asked.
"You're a spiked pink and black punch." A-Erik retorted.
"Does someone want to explain what's going on?" Rel asked in a confused tone.
A-Erik stopped air-guitaring and stood shaking with excitement. He pointed one long hand at Adriana.
"She swore my phic would not go on for more than a year. Not even six months! And here you are only 16 days from a full year of obsessive slave driven labour under my" he drew himself up proudly "strict tutorage to become one of the most favourited phangirl time warp phics on A full novels worth my dear! Do you know what that means?"
He leant in close to Adriana's head and whisepred soflty in her ear. "Apart from almost gaining entry to Melbourne University with its Bachelor of Arts Archaeology division you so eloquently longed for and mmissing out because you would rather phiction than study." He smirked. "You have the written equivalent of a novel and have wasted it!" he laughed delightedly. "On something that can never see a printed bound and published cover!" He laughed again. And spread his arms wide. "You! All of you are here because of me! Under my control! Mine! All of you!"
"AArrgh!" with a howl of fury Adi leapt up and spun her hysteric Phantom around. She planted one booted heel in the small of his back and kicked him out the door, slamming it shut after him.
Some days (weeks) later, Adi was finally getting around to writing the first part of her next update. On her desk, Kolper was raiding her change jar for drinking money hearing the tin rattling, she looked up and glared at him. "I worked hard for those tips!" she protested. Kolper snatched all her $2 coins and grinned, leaning over her chair, "Lass, ye flirted wi' th' lads drinkin' ale an fetched strange concoc'shuns for the twain big fellas standin near te the bar. Thas not work at all."
Adi glared at him, "Put it back." She ordered, "For the amount of cigarette smoke I was forced to inhale I earnt it fair and square." Kolper stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"Well the problem there lass is that yer also Manticore, a thief, and a cheat," he kissed her swiftly on the cheek and pushed her chair backwards, Adi went spinning into her mirror, just saving herself on the bedpost. "But it was a fair point ye ken, sos I may jest be payin ye back. Someday." He winked and disappeared out of sight, off in search of the nearest pub.
Spinning around randomly in her rotating chair Adi groaned quietly and mused on the best way to finally post the last two or three chapters.
"Three chapters in 5 days?" Julian asked from the bed, nose stuck in The Restaurant at the End of the Universe. "You wont do it."
"I've done it before," she shrugged, putting the lid back on her change tin.
"Yeah, pre-plot. Now you have to tie up all your loose ends."
"Oh yeah. Drat."
Just at that moment, Adi's young cousin Kasey wandered in. "Yay!" she proclaimed loudly, and was boosted onto Adi's knee to start playing with buttons on the CD player. Adi looked down at her, "If I didn't know he's been sulking at the Wheatie the last four weeks, I'd think Devin has been teaching you bad habits Kas'." She said.
Kasey smiled at her, "Boo!" she yelled, then wriggled down and wandered out again.
Julian was smirking, "Proof once again that the Saunders gene is continuing its degeneration with each new birth."
"Oh suck off." Adi growled.
"And I have to say that I didn't think it could get any worse than you- OW!"
Adi smiled at the stapler shaped mark on Julian's cheek, "Serves you right." She snorted.
Sitting on the bedhead, Jacques was busy filing his nails with Adi's buffer, "Adibug, cutie?" he ventured.
"Yes?"
"Have you called Sam yet?"
"Nope."
"Are you going to?"
"Yep."
"When?"
"Why?"
Jacques paused to admire the shine in his nails. "Well Em and I are going shopping and we wanted to invite Sanne and my phone's overmaxed its credit."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Adi muttered as she reached for her phone.
"What are you calling Sam for?" Julian's fangs protruded over his lower lip in concentration as he read. Adi grinned and bounced up to do a mad dance around the room. "Because…" she sang, "The Lifeline Bookfest is on and somewhere in the million and a half books they had on sale there, when I got the guy with the microphone and the pith helmet to put a call out for anyone who had seen a copy of Kay and guess what?"
"They found it?"
Adi spun around and tripped over her chair, "Yes, yes, yes! They did they did! For just one whole dollar!"
"Good for you." Julian muttered sourly.
"And I got the Mordant's Need series, Mirror of her Dreams and A Man Rides Through."
The Vampire's eyes lit up, "Well why didn't you say so Witch?" He leapt off the bed and crawled up into the wardrobe in search of the books as Adi dialled Sam's number.
Adriana raced out the side doors of the Opera House, hoping desperately Darvon's body would not be discovered until morning, or at least until they had caught Ondin. Wheezing over the cobblestones of the Paris streets she rapidly learnt three things.
One. There is no magical cure for not being able to run fast.
Two. Recycling her deb heels may have been financially sound, but they were an absolute bastard to try and run in.
Three. Running in heels, a skirt and heavy blood red wings was not the quite the first, but certainly not the smartest idea she had ever had.
Choking slightly on the cold night air she stumbled on over the Seine and ran (the term is used loosely, it was really only the speed of a very fast jog, but with painful mincing steps due to the heels) towards the Persian.
Her thoughts were going a little something like this…
"Ow. Stupid bloody wings…Fuck! Heel caught! Ow, ok turn off to the left here I think…" As well as a general mantra of "Oh shit…oh shit…oh shit…"
Some way ahead of her Erik had reached the fancy golden doors of The Persian restaurant, and rudely brushing past an astonished upper class couple, had raced to Nadir's office and grabbed hold of the startled dark skinned man.
"Erik!" Nadir's face was stricken, "What are you doing here? What has happened?"
"Nadir," Erik managed, then succumbed to a fit of coughing , leaning on his friend for support.
"Erik what is it?" the former daroga registered the lack of a certain female's presence, "Erik what has happened to Mademoiselle Adriana?"
Gulping down the spiced air Erik slowly regained his breath, "She is fine daroga, it is for your life I worried."
"Mine?" Had Nadir not been so surprised, he would have caught one of those rare glimpses into Erik's strange mind where the man held hidden any slight affection he harboured.
"Darvon," Erik stood back and straightened to his full height, Nadir's head craned backwards to look at him as he explained, "Is in the pay of Vazhar Ondin, who has been a common cutthroat with a perverse desire to mutilate his victims for the past several months. We heard him tonight, at the ball he has killed Darvon and I sought to warn you, he is on his way here now."
"We must fetch the police!" Nadir whispered in horror, Erik gave a cynical laugh, "Who would believe us? You have no proof and I certainly cannot appear before them."
Nadir gnawed his lip nervously, "How long before he arrives?"
Erik shrugged, "I came via the sewers, a much faster, if rather foul shortcut. Ondin does not know Paris, my guess is twenty minutes at best, ten at worst."
Nadir nodded, "My house is but two minutes walk, across the Fleur de Lis Bridge. My rifles and handcuffs are there, as well as some old arrest warrants I can forge temporarily to fake some semblance of officialty, if you allow me to fetch those we may stand a chance at actually having him charged."
Erik nodded briskly, "Then I suggest we run."
Nadir turned and tugged the bellpull to summon Darius and inform him of their plan, by the time he turned around again Erik was already gone.
Only two minutes walk away in a rather convenient plot hole because the Authoress is a lazy little sod who is impatient to get back to watching Dracula is Dead and Risen from the Grave…
Stopping at the base of the Fleur de Lis Bridge, Adriana tugged at her wings and shook them off to land carelessly in a dirty puddle.
"The infamous Theatre Wraith, I believe," the heavy accent made her freeze, then turn.
Standing in the shadows, she caught a glimpse of a gold brocade jacket and a stocky frame. The frame stepped forward and revealed a swarthy face with dark eyes, narrowed to slits of hatred. Adriana took several very fast steps backwards onto the bridge.
"Vazhar Ondin," she panted, "My my my, this is an unexpected surprise."
"Silence wretch," he snarled, "You are here to serve one purpose-"
"And one alone," Adriana sang, then stopped, "I'm sorry you were saying?"
His eyes, if possible, narrowed even further, "You will be silent! No one is to hear you scream, so why ruin your voice caterwauling?"
"Well because I can mostly," Adriana kept backing up as Ondin advanced, slowly he pulled out a silvery blade that gleamed in the orange glow of the laps above them, "Last few moments on earth I may as well do as I like. You apparently had a purpose for me?"
Ondin floundered slightly at her offhanded remarks about her own demise.
"You are to be my ultimate revenge against that creature," he spat, "That has damned the very earth he touches since Hell spat him out through his precious little mother's body. Death meets Death. You are immaterial, your fate will not be."
Adriana kept stepping away from him, up the curve of the bridge, trying to keep at least three metres between them and the tremour out of her voice.
"You know," she tried to say brightly, "You're not as scary as I thought you would be." She cocked her head to one side. "But then again I find people like Hannibal Lecter amusing and Sherlock Holmes entertaining."
"Your endless chatter bores me." Vazhar said coldly, "Say your final prayers to your false god and prepare to return to the Hell from whence you came."
Adriana smiled, backing away from the knife that swung hypnotically from side to side before her. "I would very much like to say something fitting before my death, but seeing as anything I try will no doubt sound incredibly clichéd and cheesy, I'll leave you with this…" not taking her eyes off him she reached down and removed first one black heel, then the other. She weighed them in her hands and took a deep breath, "Dracula is my sugar daddy."
Whap! Clunk! She piffed both shoes at her would be killer and took the opportunity to race past him across the bridge. Vazhar's arms went up to protect his eyes, as Adriana skidded past him his arms flailed wildly and the knife caught along the black silk whipping around her form.
A cold burning slash of pain slid along her skin, met at once with warm liquid wetness. (So this is what it feels like to be stabbed) she thought, almost absentmindedly. With an odd clarity Adriana slowed and slid to one side, she leaned against the marble railing and swung a sluggish leg to catch an off balance Vazhar right in the tender place. The murderer went down with a gasp and rolled away from her. (Always wanted to do that) she thought, sagging against the rail. The ambassador crawled to his feet, midnight eyes glinting with hatred. "You ally yourself with a madman." he spat.
"Apparently I'm fighting one too," she retorted between gasps.
"I have killed men a thousand times more powerful than you, with less care than I would have for an insect." His pupils were pinpricks in his large eyes, "What makes you think you might stand against my might?"
(Forgive me Lord Tolkein) Adriana sent a silent thought up to Heaven, "I am no man." She threw herself, shoulder first into the stocky Persian man, sending him crashing against the banister, his dark head banged against the marble, his eyes rolling into his head. But the momentum of her attack kept her going, with a yelp of dismay and pain, Adriana rolled over the bridge rail and fell down, straight into the Seine.
As she splashed into the listless water, the theme of Raoul's almost demise from the movie started playing in her head. She bobbed to the surface, choking and coughing. No way was she drowning with fop boys jingle running through her mind. She spat out a mouthful of foul tasting water and shook the song away. Above her, she saw Vazhar's sweat drenched tunic struggle to rise, leaning on the rail for support he looked around groggily, finding the bridge empty he gave a coarse laugh, "You should never have attempted to bring me down, you little slut," he sneered, "A pity, I could have made you beautiful, just like the others."
"Vazhar Ondin." Erik's deadly hiss reached her ears from the water, the lethally tall, deathly thin black figure of the Phantom stood at the end of the bridge, fingers running lovingly over his lasso, "You have cost me much Vazhar, my privacy, my secrets, least of all my livelihood and peace." His voice lowered, "But you cost me my name, Vazhar. You defiled what it is to be a true artist of pain, manipulation and greatness, and for that…" his fingers gave a tight tug on the catgut, "You will pay."
"Master of Illusions," Vazhar scorned, "You play tricks with shadows, what I perform is true art, my art is real." He straightened and made a mocking bow with his dagger.
"You are a fool," Erik slunk forward, Vazhar immediately put his had to his eye, "That will not save you,"
"A fool am I?" the Persian murderer mocked, "Then tell me, where is your companion, hm? I see no sign of her here, unless of course," his dagger swept towards the slick of blood left on the white marble after Adriana's tumble, "You count this?"
Erik stilled, his fingers clutched at his lasso, "What have you done to her?" he whispered. "I did nothing to her she did not do to herself," Vazhar tutted, "A pity about that, I suppose this means you're alone again old boy? Terrible fate, I suppose one such as you should get used to solitude in life," he leered, "What little you have left, you'll be greeting the demons of Hell soon enough,"
Erik was still frozen, "Adriana…" he uttered silently, and with the single name on his lips, the Phantom went mad. She had been his companion, his friend, his lover, his madness, he had loved her, in more than just the physical sense, they had shared a bond that was worth more than any man's life, not sweet and romantic, nor passionate and all consuming, he had loved her that eternal endless love that was part of his soul. His mind both screamed and was silent, both begged for death and lusted to be the one dealing the killing stroke. He gave a sharp tug of his cloak and let the river of fabric pool at his feet, then crouched spider like, skeletal fingers dancing over his lasso, "Come to me Vazhar," he crooned seductively, "For it is time to die." Vazhar took a step forward, keeping his hand raised and knife ready, Erik held up a hand and the shorter man stopped. "Ahuh," Erik chided, "Unlike you Vazhar, Erik is not afraid to face his victims masked," he bowed his head and reached up a delicate long hand to untie the ribbon holding his mask in place, the porcelain fell forward into his outstretched hand, and Erik raised his head to fix Vazhar with the hypnotic eyes of a basilisk. "Look on Death, Vazhar," he intoned, beautiful voice growing more terrible and magnificent with each syllable. With a casual seeming flick of his fingers the mask flew towards the marble at Vazhar's feet, the force of the throw caused the porcelain to shatter and spray fragments over the Persian man, causing him to flinch back. "Look on Death, for that is all you have left me."
Vazhar stared in horror at Erik's face, the gaunt, twisted, scarred visage pulled back over his fangs, yellow eyes striking him with a baleful glare, this was true Death Incarnate. For the first time that night, Vazhar Ondin was afraid. Then with an almost invisible shift in his stance, Erik leapt onto the shorter man and the war began.