10-29-2009, 04:23 PM
[html]
again, sorry about delay D: 568 words Ares had worked himself easily up into a panic. Five! Five sheets of lined paper had slipped out of his notebook, and he didn't even know exactly where. He hadn't even opened his notebook for hours, but then back at the mansion he had been taking stuff out of his bag and noticed he couldn't find his latest efforts on "Dark Black Heart Beating With Pain." It was terrifying. He had written some of his best lines of poetry ever earlier this morning. And now they were gone! He couldn't recreate something that had been that glorious! Flipping through his notebook, looking at page numbers, he had come to the total of five pages missing. Two pages from the front - old, old stuff when he was using this as a diary, and three from the back. Two of the latter contained almost all of "Dark Black Heart Beating With Pain," but the third was less important, just a few doodles inspired by "The Flaming Fire of My Burning Heart." He had ran straight outside the mountain, back to the lakeside where he had last had his notebook out and writing. A brisk breeze tugged at the sandy colored dress-shirt he was wearing, and a recognition of how much the wind had picked up sent his stomach twisting and turning. God, the pages could have gotten.. anywhere by now! There was one page in his favorite nook, caught on a piece of the bark of his favorite tree. Hurrying over, he carefully freed it. It was one of the poetry pages, thank god. It wasn't the one he had been working on earlier, with some of his best writing ever, but it was still better than losing the bulk of the poem. Reverently, he folded the paper in half three times, then slipped it into the left pocket of his black slacks. The breeze blew mostly Eastward. Of course, it could have shifted any number of times within the last few hours, but he had nothing else to go on and couldn't give up without further effort. Ugh, he should probably even look somewhat past the border. Ares hadn't left Crimson Dreams since he had made it back alive from his second trip to Dahlia de Mai. It was too dangerous, and there was nothing left out there for him. Well, at least.. not yet. He still wasn't ready to deal with the problem of his mother, but for at the moment he was sort of just okay with that. The time would come, eventually, and who knows? Maybe Haku would be creating enough pain for Tokyo in the meanwhile. Hell, maybe she'd even been kicked out of the pack. He wished he knew, but his only contact in the pack that he liked was Conor, and Ares hadn't seen him in forever and had no idea how to get in touch with him without entering Dahlian territory. Laughter caught his ear; swiveling, Ares hurried in that direction, wondering who was hanging out so close to CD lands. It was an unfamiliar, distinctly foreign scent. He found a white female.. and a sheet of familiar paper.. The artist in him reflexively assumed it was his other page of poetry, and that she was insulting it. Already stressed out, anger crossed his features and he stalked over. "Excuse me." He said sharply. "That's my paper." He held out his hand expectantly. |