Sunday, 26 June 2011

That first mission

Butterflies slipped on the shadow black gauntlet, her bracelet and her protective clothing. Her body felt numb, and she couldn’t stop thinking that if this went wrong, she would never come back to the welcome embrace of the Temple gates.

She slipped through the enemy borders and smiled to herself. They’re so stupid, she thought. Their borders are so porous I can waltz right in without anyone noticing. Then she shook her head. She would have time to celebrate later. She crept through the tents, choosing the one right in the centre. Any sensible army would set their prince up in the centre where it was most guarded from surrounding attacks.

Undoubtedly, the tent held the prince she was to kill. She didn’t know his name and she didn’t care.

She approached the dark chamber without being seen. Or more like she killed every guard in the place without sounding the alarm. The door to the chamber opened smooth as silk and the shadows covered her silent intrusion. She softly pried off the sheets and saw his face.

It held no scars, no story to tell. His life was obviously luxurious and comfortable. How different it was from the life of a necromantic vampire.
She unsheathed her jade dagger. Just as her hand hit the hilt, a jolt was sent through her body and she couldn’t move. The prince opened his electric blue eyes and got up.

“Ah,” he said, gloating over her frozen form. “My beautiful princess. You’ve succumbed to my little trap.”

Butterflies tried to pull her knife out, but it was like moving her arm through honey – agonizingly slow. The prince snatched the knife away and danced behind her, taking her bow as well. He threw them onto his bed, effectively disarming her. Then he put his hands on her broad shoulders and pushed her up against the wall.

“Kill me,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

“No, my darling dear. I want…something. Something from you.” He eyed her all over, and Butterflies resisted the urge to squirm under his increasing grip.

“Kill me. I tried to kill you, for God’s s—“A light finger on Butterflies’ lips hushed her. Then she realized that the trap’s force had receded. She lashed out a kick into the prince’s stomach and he tumbled backwards. She pushed off the wall but he was faster. He held up his hands, freezing time around her. She stopped in running position, only able to move her eyes.

“So fun, so fun. Almost too much fun, darling.” Two fingers went under her chin to push her trapdoor mouth shut, then to push her head up to look at him. Butterflies strained, muscles showing beneath her jacket.

The prince laughed and ripped her jacket off. Her strong shoulders showed. The prince laid a hand on her shoulder and there was nothing she could do about it. “Oh…”the prince mused as if suddenly understanding something. “You’re a vampire. Why can you still use necromancy anyway?” A finger lay on her lips and suddenly she could open her mouth. “Tell me.”

“No.” She spat.

“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to use a lethal…well, maybe not so lethal.” His hand went to her forehead, extending his index finger slightly more than the rest. Butterflies tried to turn away, but her body wouldn’t move. It touched her and electricity and light danced through her, coursing through her veins. She screamed in agony and fell to the floor, her body smoking.

“Tell me. Or else,” the prince threatened.

Butterflies smiled sickly up at him, and said, “Never. If I tell you, I’d have to kill you.”

Electricity struck her again and she hollered and jerked. Light blinded her and she lay on the floor, her clothes burning. The shadows automatically put them out. With a blinding rush of air, her stomach dropped and she was off her side and had smacked into the wall. “I know you,” she muttered weakly. “I know all about you.”

“And I know all about you, my dear. I even know your previous eye colour. It was so, so pretty. What a waste,” he said, stepping into her vision. “Oh well.” He shrugged and picked her up. He threw her onto his bed. He bent down to stroke her cheek and she caught hyis hand. “Aw, so willing,” he said when she pulled. She only smiled, narrowing her eyes. “What’s so f--“the prince stopped short. Stupid, he thought. Stupid to trust a weak vampire.

“Too bad, prince.” Butterflies said. The dark green tip of her dagger sticking through his back. “Really, too bad.” The prince fell to the floor, eyes already glazed over and blank. She pulled out her dagger and licked the blood on the blade. “Mission accomplished.” And then she ran.

Wednesday, 15 June 2011

Best friends

"Go," Cleric Quiver said, unfeeling. "You are dismissed."

Butterflies bowed formally and swept out of the chamber, her Necromancer robes trailing after her. She struggled not to get lost on the first day of her training. It would be rather embarrassing.


She felt someone tap her shoulder and turned warily. She saw someone about her age, trying to smile, nervously tucking stray strands of hair behind her right ear. Her eyes turned from grey to hot pink as she realised that someone was actually bothering to answer her questions.

"Um," she repeated. "Do you know where the exit is?"

The girl didn't look like she was about to eat her, so Butterflies decided to be honest. She shook her head. "Nope."

"Neither do I." The girl grinned, and stuck out her hand. "Name's Olivia, Olivia Storm. What's yours?"

Butterflies slapped the hand with her palm. then hit it again with the back of her hand. "Name's Butterflies, Blood Butterflies. Pleased to meet you."

Running away

Butterflies woke with a jolt to the head. Her eyes snapped open and all she could think of was danger. She plunged her hand into her pants pocket and slipped the delicate black chain onto her pale wrist.

"WAKE UP!" her father roared. He had thrown a shard of something at her and it had hit home. Her forehead bleeding, she slowly pushed the covers off. She took deep, deep breaths to keep her temper and tears suppressed. Even so, her temper burned fiercer than Mevolent's fire, and her tears flowed down her face like twin streams.

"What....did this.....time?" she asked between shaky breaths. She suspected that her father was already drunk and intoxicated with drugs, but she still asked -- it was a ritual to her.

Her father's face went blank a moment. "You....I....You...."he stuttered. Then the rage returned. "Doesn't matter!" he yelled.

Crazily, she laughed.

"Oh, dad, oh, dad. You've done more damage to me than Billy-Ray Sanguine ever did."


She swung her legs off her slightly elevated, battered mattress and went straight to the cupboard with held her measly possessions. Sh e took out a box and started packing. Her dad did not move to stop her. "Did you ever love me?"

Her father, held in a trance, said, "Once. When you were born."

"What happened?" she asked gently, her voice permeating the suffocating silence after the storm. No answer. "Can't say, now can you?

"From this day on, I swear upon the shadows of the Temple, I am not, have never been, and never will be your daughter."

Her father stood there, captured by her bravery.

"From this moment on, I swear upon the fall of night everyday, I will never set foot in this house again. If I do, it will be to kill you. Both you and mom."

More packing.

"From this moment on, I swear upon the length of High Priest Tenebrae's neck, I will find my own keep."

She laughed again, feeling the joy and strength coursing through her as she said her chosen name again. She finished packing and walked to the door, her father's dull eyes trailing after her.

"And from the moment I step out of this house, I am not Marina. Not anymore. I will be known as Blood Butterflies."