Her

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Most of you are used to me posting stories about Jeanie, my original character for Dystopia Rising. Well, this is not a Jeanie story. This is a new character. The Dystopia Rising LARP allows me to have three active characters at once, even if I can only play two a game. Up till now, I’ve only ever had Jeanie. Now I have a new character. Her name, is Rahab. So, here you go, an introduction to Rahab. I apologize if the writing is a little clunky, as this character’s personality might make writing a bit on the tough side, but we’ll see. As always, the world of Dystopia Rising is put out by the amazing people as Eschaton Media and is totally something you should check out.

**********

“Pardon, but can he help her?”

The man looked up from where he knelt in a small garden patch. His eyes widened and he gulped a moment at what he saw. A woman, green skin, almost sick looking, veins stretching across the face in purple and blue, white gauze wrapped around the eyes. “‘Scuse me?”

“Can he help her, please. She got separated from the caravan and is lost.”

“She? She who?” He stood up and brushed his hands on his pants to get the dirt off.

“She is…” the woman paused and her shoulder slumped a moment. She took a deep breath and continued. “Would he understand if she said ‘I am lost’ instead of ‘she is lost’?”

“You? Yer talkin’ ’bout you?”

The sickly green woman nodded. “Yes. She is lost and in need of assistance.”

“Um…” He glanced down quickly at the rifle on the ground. “You ain’t gonna do none of that brain juju bull shit, right?”

The woman shook her head. “The ancestors did not give her the ability to use her mind that way. This is good as she was taught it is a sin. He doesn’t need to worry.”

“Um… alright… Were you headed anywhere in particular?”

The woman shrugged. “She doesn’t know. That one never told her where the caravan was headed.”

“That one?”

“The one who leads the caravan.”

“Right.” He looked behind her a bit, towards the treeline, scanning for anything he could see. “Where did you come from?”

“That one did not really permit her to leave the caravan camp when we had arrived in a town. That one said that people would be frightened by her and it would be unkind to scare them.”

The man forced a quick laugh as he glanced around, still looking to see if anything had changed. “Yeah, well, that one was probably right. Are you lookin’ fer anyone in particular?”

“She would feel comfortable finding those of the Fallow Hope. They would know what to do with her.”

“Then y’all probably wanna find yer way to town. It’s close. ‘Bout a day or so walk down the road.” He pointed behind him at the path leading into the woods. “That’s the Grove proper. Out here is a bit less busy an all. But there’s a trade meet comin’ up. Might find people there that leave home for it or even live in the Grove center instead of us folk here in the Outer Grove. That’s probably yer best shot.”

“Thanks. She is grateful for his help.”

The woman walked around the man, careful not to step on his gun or in his garden. Somehow, she seemed to know where to place her feet despite the fact that her eyes were covered up in cloth.

The man just stared at her as she walked away.

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Logic

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It’s been awhile since I posted. In that time I have done a lot of things. I got married. I worked a Renaissance Faire. I went on my honeymoon to Waikiki (lovely place, try it sometimes, bring sunscreen). So, Jeanie and Dystopia Rising both got put on the back burner for awhile. But they’re back. I’m back to playing. And I’m back to writing things that are going on in Jeanie’s life. So, if you like the story, check out Dystopia Rising and any other work by Eschaton Media. Also, remember that while Jeanie is my original character, the other characters and locations are property of the people who created them (not me). And yes, when I write a story with/about other characters, I have the permission of the others involved and work closely with them to make sure it is true to their characters as well. Enjoy the story.

Trigger Warning – Descriptive drug use,

**********

She couldn’t stop shaking.

“If I drop, keep going. I can take it. Just get in and get out. Don’t worry about me.”

“Natasha’s gone. Just go. GO!”

Why did it bother her so much that Natasha died? She’s a Pure Blood. A fucking prissy rich and manipulative Pure Blood. All of them are manipulative. Doesn’t matter that Jeanie can’t figure out what Natasha’s ulterior motive is, she has one. She should be glad that Natasha got pulled under by the River Hunters.

But she’s not.

“Charles, I’m sorry. The River Hunters got Natasha. They pulled her under. She didn’t come back up. I know you wanted to be there for her. I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Jeanie sat down on a log at the firepit with a groan before gripping her stomach. She took a deep breath and tried to will her hands to stop shaking. They wouldn’t stop. She wiped the sweat from her brow. Why won’t she stop shaking? Just fucking stop shaking, damn it!

Deep breath. Take a deep breath in. Slowly. Now let it out. In. Out.

“Tri, I saw it happen. They pulled her off the boat and dragged her under. She didn’t come back up.”

The Iron grabbed her head. Rocking back and forth. “I don’t care. I don’t care. She’s just a stupid Pure Blood. I don’t care. I don’t care. Why the fuck do I care?”

Jeanie punched both hands down into the dirt at her feet. Her fingers splayed out before gripping the soil and balling her hands into fists. “Fuck this shit. I need to calm down.”

She grabbed her brown bag and started rummaging through the pockets. Her fingers frantically dug into each pocket before hurrying to the next. Then, her fingers wrapped around a glass vial.

The Iron stopped shaking. Slowly, she pulled the vial out of the bag and stared at the familiar milky white liquid inside. This would calm her down. Put her emotions in check. Keep her from freaking out over a stupid Pure Blood, one who succeeded in manipulating Jeanie into caring. Rich bitch. Her hand slid into the back and pulled out a small scrap box. Practiced hands popped off the lid and dropped the contents onto her lap. Empty syringe. Small needle in an old world pill bottle to keep it from breaking. Get the needle out of the pill bottle, twist into place on the end of the syringe. Open the vial, slide needle inside. Pull up plunger of syringe to fill the syringe with Milk.

Jeanie shut her eyes for a moment and let some of the tension release from her shoulders. She opened her eyes and glanced down at her left forearm, covered in black ink. She glanced above the anchor to the crook of her elbow. A few visible blue veins. She didn’t stop to think as she lined the end of the needle up to the blue vein, pierced the needle into her skin and pressed down on the plunger.

The Iron’s eyes closed and she let out a deep breath. Her body relaxed and the stress from before disappeared. She let the feeling wash over her for a moment before sliding the needle out and dropping it onto the ground in front of her. No more shaking. No more worrying over Natasha. Just calm.

She smiled when she heard bells. Caleb was always good company.

The bells stopped and there was a moment of silence. “Why?”

“Why what?” Jeanie opened her eyes and glanced over to where Caleb stood at the end of the log. He was glaring.

“Why did you need to use?” His paws balled into fists.

“I couldn’t think clearly.”

“About what?”

“Natasha.”

“What about her? She wouldn’t tell you to take milk.” He shouts out. His paws unclench and then curl back into fists. Something was wrong. He’s not okay.

“She died. I watched it happen. And it bothered me. A lot.”

Caleb rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. “Even if it wasn’t her end,” he yells and grabs the syringe off the ground showing it to Jeanie, “you shouldn’t be doing this!”

“I shouldn’t think logically? I should let emotion cloud my thoughts?”

“Use fucking drugs because she died.” Caleb tosses the syringe to her feet. “You’ve seen deaths before.”

Jeanie shook her head. “No, I haven’t. They’ve always been saved, or out of sight, or awful… and… that’s not… her… anymore…”

“So, you’re destroying yourself for liking her?” He starts pulling his weapons out and tossing them to the ground. “What is your problem with liking her?” he shouts.

“She’s a Pure Blood,” Jeanie comments. “She’s supposed to be manipulative and doing everything for her own gain. She’s supposed to be like every other one. I’m not supposed to like her because she’s supposed to fit the data.”

“Your data is wrong!” Caleb shouts and turns to look at the flames for a moment before turning back to Jeanie. “Stop acting like you know everything when there is proof in front of your damn face that you’re wrong!”

Jeanie shrugs. “I can’t figure it out. I don’t understand why she doesn’t make sense. Why it bothers me. It shouldn’t. But it does and I can’t stop seeing her die and I can’t figure out why it bothers me.”

Caleb throws his arms up. “Because you can’t get over the fact that you like her. You only see her as a pure blood, not a person, like how she sees you.”

“I see pure bloods the same way you see the pack. How would you feel if you started liking one of them?”

“There’s a difference between seeing people that made a choice to harm me and seeing an entire strain that way.”

“Welcome to Motor City, where Pure Bloods rule over everything and decide everyone’s life.”

“Stop acting like you’re in Motor City. You’re safer here. You keep acting like you’re there and this place will become the same.”

“I’m not safer here! I’ve ended up in chains in multiple times since then.”

“I don’t see chains on you now,” he screams.

Jeanie grabs the syringe and hands it to the Ascensorite. “Mother’s milk is one of the ways you enslave an Iron.”

“You are being a slave to no one but yourself. You need to fight your weakness.”

Jeanie shrugged. “Well, I’m sorry. I failed.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Caleb growls. “Adapt! Evolve!”

“Maybe I’m doing everything I can! Maybe I’m afraid that I’m stagnant and will never be anything else.”

“Then distance yourself without drugs and try again.” He unclips the collar on his neck and throws it down to her feet. “The collar is dead. My blades fall apart by next summer. It’s a distraction. Work on it. Hit it. Think about Natasha again when you calm down.”

“I can’t just stop.”

He rolls his eyes. “I can only do so much. I’m only a fighter.”

Jeanie turns to look at Caleb. “And I’m only an Iron who got forced into craving something. Okay, I’ll work on something else,” she grabs the collar,” just like every other Iron who fights it. I’m not working for more, so I guess I’ll just shake and puke instead.”

“Get a shakeys.” He tosses his arms into the air and growls. He grabs his blades and turns to walk off muttering, “I just don’t get it.”

Jeanie sighs and stares down at the broken collar and the syringe at her feet.

“And I don’t know how to explain it.”

 

Jeanie

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I know I’ve posted a lot of stories about Jeanie. She’s my original LARP character for Dystopia Rising, an incredible game put out by Eschaton Media. But, at the same time, that doesn’t mean that you all know her. So, I decided to post some pictures (art work) that has been drawn of her and a few of my favorite tid bits about the pieces.

P.A.W. Illustrations

P.A.W. Illustrations

This was the first piece I ever commissioned for Jeanie. She was still a newer character in the Dystopia Rising world. That being said, the piece is still utterly amazing and includes some incredible little details. The most obvious of which is the red hue around her ankles, wrists, and neck. In the game, Jeanie is a strain known as the Iron Slave. She was born into slavery, spent most of her life working as an engineer on an assembly line. The glow is part of the strain. They all glow bright red. It’s both a way to give them the light needed to work longer hours (well into the night) and a way to make sure they can be easily identified and unable to hide at night. For Jeanie, a member of the Darwinist faith, it is also a testament to evolution. You can actually look in the picture and see the signs of her as an engineer. She’s covered in soot and grime. Her face is scarred (and yes those are actual scars that exist on the character that I makeup in every game). You see her designation number. But, one of my favorite parts is that you can see just how strong she is. You can look and see her muscles there. It’s pretty epic. Then again, I find this whole image epic. Then again, there was a reason I asked this piece made in the first place.

Demon With a Halo Illustrations

This next image is also a Chibi. Okay, so a lot of my friend’s draw Chibis. They’re cute. I commissioned one from each of my friends. Yeah, I’ve got multiple chibis of Jeanie. So, what? Anyway, it also has some very unique little details. It’s a different style (of course cause different artist). But the little things make it so awesome. Firstly, it has Jeanie’s hat. The hat is very very important to her. It was a gift, one of the first she had ever received. It was from a character named Bones. While he’s not around anymore (he moved to a different chapter that is very far away), his hat still is and his hat is still utterly important to the Iron. The other majorly awesome detail about this piece is the necklace. Jeanie’s necklace has been a staple to her character since I first started playing her. It means a huge deal and is very much so her entire story condensed into a single prop. You know that your character is extremely important to her when she is willing to give you a piece of the necklace. To this day, she’s only done that once. That says something.

Sarah Maeks

Sarah Maeks

Oh my goodness look at this adorable piece. It’s a little more freehand than the others. But I think that adds a lot of charm to it. Jeanie is not, by any means, a neat character. She’s an engineer and a mad scientist. If she doesn’t look messy and covered in grime, something is wrong. The style of that is so perfectly shown in this. It’s got the hair that she can’t keep in control (with bits hanging in her face and around her ears and sticking out the bun). It’s got just how grimy her pants are getting. But you’ll notice something specific. Look at her cheek. There is some green and a very carefully added R, just slightly darker than her skin tone. So, there is absolutely story behind each of those. The green was Jeanie attempting to claim her own ownership over the tattoo, turning it into something that she was proud of. So she had a green darwin fish added around the designation number. Only, then she was captured (the story tellers are awful and I love them) and had her cheek branded as a runaway. That’s the R. It was a hugely emotional rp for her. It was also my first attempt at making a latex prosthetic (which came out awesome, I might add). But yes, so utterly cute.

Sarah Maeks

Sarah Maeks

This one was not actually commissioned for me, but Jeanie is still in it, so I show you. This is a bunch of the Iron Slave characters in one of the game chapters. It isn’t all of them in the chapter, but a bunch of them. Due to similar histories, the strain tends to bond with each other rather well. From left to right, we have Mainz DeWalt (and also the artist), Glitter Cola, Rock, Jeanie (that’s me), and Chief. We’re all circling Rock because he had just found freedom and he is very very young. We sort of became his family. We protect him and look out for him. Plus, you can see how each of us has our own personality and all that. Ugh, I just love this picture. Sarah, your work is amazing. Why you so good?

Sarah Maeks

Sarah Maeks

This is not the only family picture that Sarah Maeks drew as a commissioned piece.  This one is not actually a chibi though (WOAH! I know, right?). And it has far more than just Iron Slaves in it too. It is still Rock’s family though. It shows a lot more of the personalities though, since it isn’t all Chibi. From left to right, you have Jeanie (me), Glitter Cola, Rock, Yorrick, Honey Badjur, Mainz DeWalt, and Mordecai. The Iron Slaves in the piece are Jeanie, Glitter, Rock, Honey, and Mainz. Yorrick is a Remnant (who is silver, it’s cool) and Mordecai is a rover, hence the scarf. Rovers and scarves are a thing.

Ana "Sal" Mars

Ana “Sal” Mars

This next one was not a commission. This next one was someone going “I’ma make your character with this highlighter on this piece of sticky note” and she did Jeanie. And it is awesome! It is simple. It is cute. And the expression is spot on. Most every other piece that has been made of Jeanie has her in a happy mood. Jeanie is almost never in a happy mood. She doesn’t have much to be happy about. It’s sad. It’s tear jerking. But it’s true. Jeanie is not happy. And as much as her life sucks, when things happen, she sorta sighs and just accepts it. It is a sad existence that she has, but it’s the reality. When her life goes to crap, she cries about it and then sort of acknowledges that she doesn’t really have any other options. One day, I would love for her to feel otherwise, but for now it isn’t going to happen. Sad, but true. What makes this so awesome to me, is that it perfectly captures that. That and this artist is one of my absolute favorites. Her work is officially part of the Dystopia Rising table top books. I’m jealous and have really wanted her to draw Jeanie for awhile now. I’m so happy she did.

P.A.W. Illustrations

P.A.W. Illustrations

Last, but not least, we have another commissioned piece of mine. This was my most recent commissioned piece and one of the few pieces where Jeanie’s smile is spot on. If you’ve read any of the pieces I’ve written, you’ll know Jeanie has fallen in love. She fell for an character named Sliphox. He is an Ascensorite character who has already had his ascension, which has made his faith far more visible in him. His faith is the Tribe of Autumn. It is visible with his antlers that grow out of his head and the fact that he has paws instead of normal hands (if you look, you can see his paw holding Jeanie’s hand). But, what makes this image so perfect is the looks on their faces. Jeanie feels completely free and carefree when he is around. That is her smile. That is the way she is standing with her toes off the ground. In this moment, all is right in the world. Now look at his face. He’s almost glancing at her. He’s happy, but he’s not completely letting go. Look at his feet. Look at how he’s almost ready to jump. He’s protecting her. He wants more than anything for her to be safe. You can see it in this picture. You can see just how much he wants her safe in every part of how he is holding himself. This image perfectly shows their relationship. Granted, it has changed (read my most recent stories) but this image is so perfectly them.

New Deal

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This piece is part two of two

This piece is something that happened at the last Dystopia Rising Game I went to. I tried doing a piece that sort of explained the aftermath of it, but I never got to a point that did it justice. Here is attempt number two, only this time, it’s me recording the event from my character’s perspective. Also, normally, I don’t put this reminder up since most of the information I post is well known. Not all of this is well known, so please remember to keep this out of game until you find out in game. 🙂

**********

Jeanie sat at the table in the Ripton Falls hospital. She was shuffling the Vegasian cards that Mister Oddfellow had given her. But he had left. And no one wanted to play. So she just sat at the table shuffling the cards. An Ascensorite sat watching her. His eyes were two different colors. He wore bells on his ankles. He watched the Iron for a moment before slipping into the seat in front of her.

“What are those?” he asked, curious.

“Vegasian playing cards. Mister Oddfellow gave them to me.”

Jeanie didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there. She couldn’t stop shaking. She couldn’t stop the tears. The overwhelming feeling of being completely alone had returned. It was almost as bad as when Caleb March had died, only this time it was worse. This time Sliphox chose to let himself be destroyed. Some might argue he wasn’t dead. Some might argue that they had finally made him better. But no one else had been called his mate. No one else knew, just knew, that there was nothing of him left. He was gone.

“What do you do with them?” he asked as he placed his paws on the table. That was weird that he had paws and not hands.

“You play Black Jack.”

“How do you play?”

At some point, Anne came over and wrapped her arms around Jeanie. There were no words. There was no questioning why Jeanie was so upset. Just gentle arms carefully holding the shaking Jeanie. But of course, it wasn’t Sliphox. Why would he do that? Why would he protect her or do anything like that when a rover born like him would break a promise he made?

“Jeanie,” Anne said quietly, “He’s asking for you.”

Jeanie shook and didn’t answer. How could she answer? How could she go over to him and be there for him when he refused to be there for her? She felt the tears fall more quickly. It didn’t matter if he was asking for her. It wasn’t him anymore.

Anne gently stepped back and walked away leaving the shaking Iron alone.

He scrunched up his face as he stared at the two pages of science in Jeanie’s notebook. “What’s it mean?”

So, Jeanie carefully explained the game. She explained about how you didn’t want your cards to go over 21. She explained how you wanted to be able to to get as close as possible but the other person didn’t know all you had because you had one card that only you could see.

Then the sound that Jeanie was dreading. It was deafening, though no one else seemed to notice how loud and painful it was. A jingle of bells. Each step and that jingle seemed to echo through the entirety of the building. Each step made it harder to stop the tears from falling.

Jeanie looked down, trying not to watch from the corner of her eyes as the Rover-born Ascensorite made his way over to the shaking Iron. He placed his spear down on the ground next to her and knelt down on the ground. Jeanie’s eyes dropped into her lap. She couldn’t look at him.

He shook his paws in front of him and his eyes darted around the room. Then he dropped his gaze back to his cards and peaked at the one card that wasn’t face up on the table. He finally sighed and bounced the nails of paws onto the table. Jeanie slid him a card and he quickly picked it up. Then his shoulders drooped and he placed the card on the table. “I didn’t want that card.”

“Jeanie,” he said quietly.

She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t stop shaking. She couldn’t stop crying. It wasn’t Sliphox. She didn’t know who it was anymore.

He gently placed his paws on either side of her head and placed a kiss upon her forhead. “I love you.”

Jeanie shook her head. “You’re not you.”

“You’re my mate,” he answered quietly. One of his paws dropped away from her head. The other slid down to hold her cheek. “I love you.”

“But you’re not Sliphox anymore. You left. You’re gone.”

“How do you know?”

She held her left hand out in front of her, eyes looking down at her palm. “You promised. You said you would never leave me. But you’re gone. You broke your promise.”

He looked down at her palm. “It’s gone. We’ll have to fix that.” He wrapped her hand around his blade. Then he wrapped his palm around the blade and pulled quickly, cutting into both of their palms. “Jeanie, I will never leave you. I will always take care of you and protect you. You are my mate and I love you.”

“But you left. You’re not you anymore. How do I know who you are?”

“Ask me.”

Jeanie dealt out the next round of cards. He quickly peaked at his face down card and then bounced his nails upon the table. So Jeanie slid him another card. He looked at it and then peaked at his face down card again. He bit his bottom lip. Then he shook his hands in front of him. Jeanie flipped her cards. She had 19 points. He flipped his card. He had 20. He grinned and slid his cards into the pile of used cards that they’d been building up.

Jeanie looked around the room. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t answer him. She didn’t know what to say. She dropped her eyes back into her lap. “We haven’t played the Vegasian cards in a long time. You didn’t want to play.”

He stood up. Pulled a table over and made sure that he had a chair on the other side. He sat down and smiled. Jeanie was trying so hard not to look at him, not to meet his eyes. But she could still see him out of the corner of her eyes. He started bouncing his claws on the table.

Jeanie pulls out the Vegasian cards and very carefully begins to shuffle the deck in front of her. She starts dealing out a game of Black Jack.

Alone

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This piece is part one of two

This piece is something that happened at the last Dystopia Rising Game I went to. I tried doing a piece that sort of explained the aftermath of it, but I never got to a point that did it justice. Here is attempt number two, only this time, it’s me recording the event from my character’s perspective. Also, normally, I don’t put this reminder up since most of the information I post is well known. Not all of this is well known, so please remember to keep this out of game until you find out in game. 🙂

**********

“We’re going to fix his head?”

“What will happen to him?”

“I don’t know.”

Jeanie sat on the cot, clutching the spear in her hand. On the bed in front of her lay her Ascensorite, her Sliphox. His eyes were closed, one of his paws was grasped into Radimir’s hand, and beyond the occasional twitch of his free paw or feet, he didn’t move. Then again, this may be the last that he was her Sliphox.

“Why didn’t I earn your name?” Radimir asked.

“Because you didn’t bloom,” he snarls.

Jeanie sighs. “When I fought him, he was mean. He was nasty. He hurt me. He expected me to crumble. To submit to him. I didn’t. I stood up to him. Every time you talk to him, you do exactly as he expects.”

He laughs. Such a harsh voice coming from the one that normally was so protective and so kind. “Look, even the Iron Slave gets it” he spits out.

Sliphox was always so kind. He was the one who always understood. He didn’t question. He didn’t order. He didn’t ever treat her as if she were nothing more than just an Iron Slave. He was the one who she felt free around. And now Radimir was digging in his head and trying to get rid of him and Saben. Trying to make it so only Caleb was left. Caleb was not Sliphox. Caleb was a kid. Caleb wasn’t the same. Caleb didn’t know how to help. At least it wasn’t Saben.

“Why does he call you the dog?” Radimir asked. He was trying to completely understand why Saben and Sliphox existed.

“It’s an insult.” The answer was given. The look of shock on the normally kind face said everything. How could Radimir so stupidly not understand?

Once again, Jeanie sighed. Lowered head, feeling the painful and overwelming sense of submission to someone who so clearly wanted nothing more than power over those in front of him. “It’s the same as an Iron Slave. People call Iron Slaves dogs or cattle or animals. It’s a way of treating us as not people. Sliphox doesn’t like him. Doesn’t want to acknowledge him as having intelligence or being worth anything. So Sliphox calls him a dog as a way of saying, he isn’t worth anything more.”

Jeanie could feel him glance over at her.  “Once again, the Iron Slave gets it.”

Jeanie shuddered. There had been a lot of work, a lot of research, to make sure this “surgery” was successful. Radimir was very clear. He wanted Jeanie here. He wanted her help. Psionic surgeries like this were dangerous. They could kill the psion doing the work and the person whose head they were digging in. So every painful conversation. Every chance of trying to figure out why Caleb, the child, had created Sliphox and Saben, meant Jeanie had to be around. According to Radimir, Jeanie knew them better than anyone else. It was important.

Fuck importance. This silence, his stillness, it was stifling.

“Jeanie,” his gentle voice, “What is your vote?”

“I don’t know,” her voice broke as she fought back her tears.

“Well, what are you thinking?”

“You promised not to leave me.”

“I know.”

“Am I going to lose you?”

He sighed and pulled her close to him.  “I don’t know.”

Jeanie shook in his arms. “Is it bad that I don’t know? Do I have to chose?”

“No. It isn’t bad and no, you don’t have to chose.”

Jeanie’s hand gripped his spear more tightly. Her fingernails started to dig into the wood and she leaned her forehead against the shaft of the spear. What if she had voted the way she wanted? What if she had told him not to do this? He had said the vote was very close to even. Would that have meant that Radimir was outvoted? Would that have meant that she didn’t have to sit here and watch as this stupid Red Star worked to take away the best thing in her life?

“Caleb?” Radimir asked.

Jeanie glanced over at the Ascensorite. A lump caught in her throat. An overwhelming sense of emptiness washed over her.

Radimir succeeded.

The Ascensorite opened his eyes and looked around at everyone who was waiting: Sol, Bambi, Anne, Locke…

It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Sliphox. Sliphox was gone. Saben was gone. Caleb… This wasn’t even the Caleb everyone knew. What everyone knew? All of that was gone? This was… someone else. Jeanie wasn’t a head shrinker. She wasn’t a doctor or a psion. She barely understood people. But she knew her Ascensorite, her mate…

And this wasn’t him.

He was gone.

Jeanie stood and leaned the spear against the wall. She pushed past Bambi and Anne. She had to get away. He promised. He said he wouldn’t leave. And then he let Radimir take him away. He was supposed to be Rover born. He was supposed to keep his promise. He had cut his hand to prove he would keep it and he just let Radimir destroy everything as if the stupid Iron didn’t matter.

Cause Irons never matter.

Jeanie hurried from the room. Her eyes darted quickly around the bar. She had to hide. But she couldn’t. She was just a stupid Iron. It was night. Her glow was easily seen by everyone. There, lots of chairs. No one went up on the platform. No one sat in those chairs. People would leave her alone.

Just like they always did.

So she ran. Fast as she could, around the tables and chairs and couches and damn it, why did people leave everything out like this. She climbed over the tables in her way. Climbed up on the platform, over the massive numbers of chairs to one that people couldn’t easily get to. She dropped into it and let the shiney pure blood stick fall to the floor.

She let out the breath she had been holding in.

She let out the tears that had been threatening to fall since Sliphox first lay down on the cot.

Her body shook.

And once again, Jeanie was completely…

Alone.

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This is absolutely true. Wonderful rules to think about when you write a story or a character for any reason. Love it.

Aerogramme Writers' Studio

Pixar's 22 Rules of Storytelling
These rules were originally tweeted by Emma Coats, Pixar’s Story Artist. Number 9 on the list – When you’re stuck, make a list of what wouldn’t happen next – is a great one and can apply to writers in all genres.

  1. You admire a character for trying more than for their successes.

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All About Me

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Daily Prompt – Explain why you chose your blog’s title and what it means to you.

My blog’s title, Music and Zombies had quite a bit of an evolution. I have tried numerous times to hold numerous blogs over the years.

  • Some blogger blog that I wrote where I tried to inspire me. Name is completely forgotten by now.
  • A blog that was attempting to keep track of my journey as an educator and the things I was doing with it.
  • Some blog that was trying to keep track of my crafting.
  • A fitness blog that I named The Journey.
  • This one.

So, how did I settle on Music and Zombies. With the exception of my very first blog, the rest are very specific. A blog about education. A blog about crafting. A blog about fitness. Then this random creation that I named with a very random name. What’s that all about?

Well, honestly, I was having trouble with all of those previous blogs. The journey is an exception to the having trouble rule because that was started after this one and was the first blog I ever made with a very specific purpose in mind. With that one I knew exactly what I was planning on doing and how and why. But this one? What was the point of it? The point was to encourage me to write. I find that writing, no matter what the style of writing is, encourages me to learn. I research. I think. I analyze. I wanted to write to continually challenge myself and my thought process. But I wanted to just write. There was no focus other than I wanted to write. So I created a place where I could just write. I would write about whatever I was thinking about. Whatever I saw or thought or was considering. It was a place where I could write it all down. That was the idea behind this.

So why specifically name it Music and Zombies then? Well, I’m writing whatever comes to mind. Music and Zombies are perfect examples of all the things I think about.

I am a musician. I sing. I play numerous instruments and have done so for years (at least 16 years on my longest played instrument). I teach music. I take part in musicals. I listen to music daily. I use music as inspiration and as enjoyment. It is a huge part of my life. If I’m writing about things I find interesting, it makes sense that music would come up quite a bit. It is such a large part of my life, of course it is going to come up quite a bit.

As for the zombies? Well, I am a nerd. I love science fiction. I love fantasy. I love table top roleplaying games. I love video games. I love Live Action Roleplaying games. I love all this kind of stuff. I have a whole box full of game rule books at the bottom of my bed. I have a shelf of my own video games in my room and most of my movies and tv shows of choice are science fiction, fantasy, super hero, and other classic nerd genres. So it also makes sense that I think about geeky things and geek culture rather regularly. It would also make sense that if I think about them regularly, I’m going to write about them regularly. Why zombies specifically, of all the nerd terms I could have chosen? I like the juxtaposition it creates to the music.

So there you have it. A title to a blog that is about the musings of life that I think up. Now to see where it takes me.