Love and Guilt

~WARNING~THE FOLLOWING IS A LES MISERABLES FAN FICTION~CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK~

Eponine stood at the end of the dim hallway, listening to the patter of rain outside. Her arms were wrapped around her waist, a poor attempt of warming herself from the cold of her damp clothes. She kept her eyes on the wooden door before her. Her teeth gently ran along her bottom lip as she fought the urge to bite down on it in frustration. She took a step forward, almost wincing when a soft creak echoed down the hall. She waited, and, when she heard no movement from beyond the door, looked down at the paper in her hands, a small bit of creamy white material that she'd fought to keep dry in the downpour. Why had she done that? She knew what the letter contained, and every word tugged at her heart. She looked up at the only light in the hall, a single candle in its place on the wall. She took another step, thankful for the silence it brought, and stared at the flame. Then she raised her hand, the paper with it, and carefully balanced the thing just above the flame. Disturbed by the change in the air, the fire waved its tip dangerously close to the letter. Eponine watched as the heat from the flame singed the paper and threatened to cause more damage. This time the girl did bite her lip, and she pulled the paper away and stared at it once more. She ran her thumb along the name inked onto the white, a name she'd thought lovingly for years. She looked back at the door, and her foot twitched, ready to make the next move.

Push forward, or retreat?

Love or guilt?

He didn't need to know, did he?

She'd seen the way he looked at that girl. Eponine watched them, and she knew. She knew she'd lost him.

Eponine made her move and gently knocked on the door.

"Marius?"

Post-Revolution Depression on a Snowless Eve

Just saw Les Miserables. I really am stunned by how well they did. Sure, they changed some lines (and Amanda seyfreid or however you spell her last name was cosette) but it was a lot better than I thought it would be. Excellent work, Tom Hooper. But you are in the same boat with Steven Moffat and Eric Kripke. Way to tear out my heart, buddy.
Basically all this post is about it how much I enjoyed the movie, and that whoever reads my posts should be aware that fan fictions are on the way :P
Oh, and Colm was perfect. So very, very perfect. <3 as was Samantha. And Eddie did a pretty good job too.
Gavroche and Enjolras are forever my bbys.
Goodnight, and Merry Christmas

20. Forever We'll Defend ~ Part 3

"There are survivors, they're coming home,

they float in darkness, they're not alone,

now here they come; now here they come;

now they will be received."

Fourteen thousand aliens; and only six-hundred from my home planet. All of us have something in common: the humans attacked our planets. We crowd within the maze of caverns, the caves lit only by patches of glowing crystals that stick out of the stone. I sit in my spot, a high ledge in the jutting from the rock, watching over the scattered patches of beings. I let my feet hang off the edge, and I slowly swing them back and forth. I have my wings tucked behind me, pressed against the rocky wall. For the umpteenth time I reach into my mind and try to trigger the voice again, the one from before, but I get nothing. Well, nothing but a scaly shoulder rubbing against mine.

"Hey, Caomh," I say quietly. 

My elder brother nods but doesn't meet my eyes. He watches the crowds below. The collar of his shirt is dotted with beads of sweat, and I know that he's been at it again. Trying to find a way out.

I look away from him and stare at my knees.

"This is my fault," Caomh says softly, and it's not the first I've heard this. I shake my head.

"No, you couldn't done anything."

He looks at me, eyes violet daggers into my pools of gold. "Seti," he says simply, gently, "I'm not talking about the humans."

I toss my head again. "No. It's mine."

It's the voice's fault, I think. It lied to me.

"Ishme was my responsibility," Caomh says, "not yours. I was supposed to watch out for him, and I failed at that when I handed him to you and made you go to the ships."

"You were only thinking of us," I say, "and I don't judge you. I'm sure Ishme didn't either."

"Caomh."

My brother and I turn at the voice and see a dark-skinned girl standing over us, her arms clasped behind her back. "We need to start planning."

My brother nods and stands, but I catch his arm as he turns.

He looks at me and flashes me a small smile. "Thank you, Seti. And don't worry. The war coming will only end in our victory."

19. I Won't Rot ~ Part 3

"And there will come a time, you see

With no more tears,

and love will not break your heart,

But dismiss your fears."

The walk to the counter is terrible, but I'm able to ignore the stares, and glares, that dig into my back. I sit at one of the vacant stools, and Kish slides into the one beside me, returning to his awaiting Bud Light. I order what I want and smile despite myself as the man behind the counter sits in front of me a far-from-flat ginger ale. If anyone had to survive the zombie apocalypse, thank the Lord it's good bartenders.

My joy simmers from a flame to smoldering coals when I hear a distinct voice behind me.

I grip my glass and turn a bit on my stool, turning to face my opponent. 

"Phillip," I say.

The young man smiles a bit at me, and instead of exchanging proper greetings jumps straight to his point: what am I doing here?

I shrug and take another sip of my ginger ale. "In the area, heard of the place, thought I'd stop by."

As expected, he doesn't buy it.

"You think you can just waltz back and expect us to accept you?"

I feel Kish tense beside me, and I can hear soft murmurs in the air behind Phillip: his followers wondering who to side with, me or the leader.

"Who said I was coming back?" I say, setting down my drink. "There are plenty of other packs, you know. What's stopping me from joining one of those?"

Phillip grabs me by the wrist and holds my palm in front of him, and in the dim golden light I watch as his eyes study the star tattooed on the web of skin between my thumb and forefinger. 

He releases me, throwing my arm back down. "You wouldn't join a different pack."

I look past him at the crowd of hunters sitting at the tables. My former brothers and sisters, watching as I can either be accepted or declined. It was my choice to leave, but I don't have power over being welcomed back into the pack.

I frown at Phillip, who still stands in front of me, not nearly as mad as he could be, should be. His fists are clenched at his sides, his lips thin, tightly pressed together.

"You're right," I say, "I wouldn't."

Honestly, I don't know how I expect him to react, but I know that what followed is far at the bottom of the list. Phillip holds out his hand to me, palm up, motioning for me to take it.

"You're always welcome back, you know."

I stare at his hand, then at his face. A genuine smile sits there under his nose, something I've seen before but is seemingly foreign to me. Kish nudges my side. I look down at my knees.

"I can't feel freedom in a pack," I say, verbally refusing Phillip's hand, "I can't. I don't feel safe in numbers. I feel safe on my own."

Kish's hand rests on my shoulder, and I look up at my leader's still awaiting hand. 

"Harley," he says gently, "Honest to God, we could use you. And you could use us."

He reaches for my hand again and rests the pad of his thumb over the tattoo. "You once made a pact with us, but you left. After that, the pack wasn't the same."

"You can feel safe with us," Kish says, "but if you don't, you can always go on ahead. We'll catch up."

I look back around the room of hunters, then twist my hand in Phillip's until my palm rests against his.

"Well then," I say with a smile, "It's good to be back."

Unfortunately, the fine and dandy bit of the night fades away sooner than I'd like it to.

18. I Won't Rot ~ Part 2

"And after the storm,

I run and run as the rains come,

On my knees and out of luck,

I look up."

I lean against my truck, wanting more than anything to climb back behind the wheel and drive off. I resist the urge by tightly gripping the handle of my hatchet, which stays at my side. I glance at the sizable safe haven that's grown here. From what I've heard, four, maybe five thousand humans hide out here, safe from the roaming zombies. Miles of suburbs stretch before one can find the downtown part of this shabby excuse for a city.
I stand outside of the crowded bar, watching as the mix of intoxicated and the occasional sober stroll out of the door, out of the warm golden light and into the darkness beyond. I look towards the black, which settles on the boarded panes of empty shop windows.
"It's about time," I call as a young man appears from within the bar. I turn towards him as he approaches, a smile on his face. "I've been out here for a while," I finish.
He shakes his head at me. "You could've come inside, you know."
I make a face towards the bar and then smile back at the boy, pulling him into a small hug. "It's good to see you, Kish."
"Likewise," he says, gently tightening his hold on me, his arm against the back of my neck. Then we move away from each other, and he nods towards the lit building. "C'mon," he says, "It's cold out. You could use a drink"
As if on cue, a chorus of bellowed laughter spills from the open door, and I think about the half, maybe more of the pack that lies inside.
"Kish-"
"Harley," he says, his voice harder than mine, "C'mon. It's been too long."
My hand moves back to grip my hatchet, but I hold it against my side and nod once, moving with Kish toward the door of the bar.
I now know what it's like to stroll into the lion's den.

17. My writing habits and mishaps

Hello!! Ash here. So if you're reading this you may or may not have read something else from my blog, and you know by now that I'm all about random spazzy subjects :P You may also be wondering about some of my habits, for instance:
 ~The fact that I put italicized lines on the tops of some of my stories. If you didn't guess it, these are lyrics. Why do I put them there? Well, I get a lot of my inspiration from music, and usually said inspiration for a certain story has its own song, so I put the lyrics at the top because it sometimes sets the mood and such. If you want the name of a particular song, have no hesitation to ask. :)

Another habit~ I enjoy writing constantly about a boy and a girl. Forgive me if this just isn't your favorite type of story to read, but I really have fun writing them. Honestly, I'm not really sure why, I just do. :)

I sometimes feel like my writing is more fit for something like a screenplay or something, what with my lack of conflict and action and such. But I can't change the way I write : /

On that note, I'm probably condemning myself to no-sleep for all of these extended stories. But I assure you that they won't be abandoned, so just keep waiting for the next part :)

Welp, it's late and I have to get up early. Farewell, until morning light.

16. Doubt and Trust ~ Part 1

"Made my mistakes, let you down, 

and I can't hold on for too long,

Ran my whole life in the ground,

And I can't, I can't get up when you're gone."


"Sora, this is stupid."
I ignore my partner, tightening my hold on his hands as he tried to pull away. He groans but doesn't fight me.
"You have to focus too, Corrin," I tell him, keeping my eyes closed.
He sighs, and I can tell he's shut his eyes as well as I feel his soul gently pressuring the air around mine. I smile despite myself at our juvenile progress. Then his soul pulls away, followed by his hands from mine.
I open my eyes and look up at him as he stands.
"Corrin," I urge, "We need to practice."
He shakes his head, tousling his dark brunette hair as he says, "We've done enough. Now come on, I can almost hear your stomach growling."
I study his hand, which has outstretched towards me. I think about the cramp in my legs from having them crossed for almost three hours, and the fact that I've been fighting off a headache since we started the procedure. I'm sure Corrin is in bad shape too. I reach up and take his hand.
"Lunch?" He questions?
I nod once. "Lunch."
Unfortunately, my grumbling stomach would not be filled for another few hours.
A meister and weapon pair pass us in the hall, and they're moving pretty fast.
"What's the deal?" Corrin calls to them, and the meister turns.
"Witches. A good sized horde of 'em, in front of the school."
My brow furrows. "Strong?"
The weapon shrugs. "Some of them, maybe, but the lot of them alone are threatening."
The two sprint back down the hall. I feel Corrin's eyes on me, but I keep mine trained on my sneakers.
"Sorry," he says simply, "but I promise that we'll get dinner after this."
I meet his eyes and smile softly, reaching out my hand. "And dessert."
"And dessert."
He takes my hand and I let myself melt, shifting forms until I sit in the palm of his hand, my body a gleaming silver and black long-sword. Corrin wraps both hands around the double handle.
"Ready?" My meister asks.
"Ready," I reply.




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
About this post...I really like Sora and Corrin together!! And lately I've had a lot of inspiration about partners and such and was kind of tired of continuously writing stories about a girl and a boy. (This probably won't stop, though, sorry )
Anyway, yes I like them. Together. <3
Sooooooo I brought them back. I hope their story excites any who read this.
btw this is a fanfiction.
Info:
Meisters: skilled humans who have the ability to match soul wavelengths with a weapon
Weapons (also called Eaters) : have the ability to transform into a type of weapon (ex: sword, knife, halberd). They are used to collect souls, mainly kishin eggs.
Kishin: evil :P
DWMA: where young meisters and weapons are trained to hone their skills (Death Weapon Meister Academy)
If you have any more questions, feel free to ask.

15. We're gonna be friends

"Walk with me, Susie Lee, through the park and by the tree,

We will rest upon the ground,

and look at all the bugs we found. Safely walk to school without a sound.

I can tell that we are gonna be friends."

Truthfully, it's not every day that I get my satchel stuck in a tree, but today I came upon the misfortune of passing Pete Benger on the road to school. The middle schooler did his job, and now my bag hangs by the strap from one of the thick branches near the top of the maple. My palms are already bleeding from where I'd tried to climb the thing, only to fall back on my rear. Now I stand under the arching branches, my hands pressed into a towel, since Momma would have my hide if I dirtied my shirt. Then she comes whistling down the dirt road.

I turn and see her, watching as her little blonde pigtails bounce with each step she takes. She's whistling to herself, swinging her lunch pail around her wrist, fast enough that gravity holds the snacks against the metal bottom. I expect her to pass me, but she stops just at my side. 

"Joey?" She calls in question to me. For a moment, I wonder how she knows my name, then I remember the teacher having us state them on the first day. How she remembered that over the few weeks between then and now I've no idea.

"What's wrong?" She says, coming closer. I look up at my helpless satchel still stuck in the tree. The girl glances at it before handing me her pail and her own bag. She straightens her overalls, which I'm amazed her parents let her wear to school. Then she grips the forked branches near the bottom and tugs herself into the nook.

"Careful," I call up to her, but in seconds she has plucked my satchel from it's branch and jumped down from the branches.

"Here," she says, holding the bag out to me. I take it and thank her, expecting her to skip off down the road again. But she stays by my side. 

"Let's go!" she says cheerily, hooking her arm into mine.

14. I Won't Rot ~ part 1?

"Night has always pushed up day, 

You must know life to see decay,

But I won't rot, I won't rot,

Not this mind and not this heart, I won't rot."

I take in a deep breath before cleaving across the Crawler's neck. I feel the blade sink into the thick, soft flesh, and I turn away, ignoring the loud plop and splat as the head hits the dirt-layered concrete. I glance at the black blood on the hatchet's blade before wiping the silver edge along the sleeve of my leather jacket. The black stands out against the brown material, and I remind myself to clean it later. I slip my hatched into its frog belt and drag my palms against each other, unconsciously trying to rid myself of the zombie's stench.
I look around at the fallen few and then glance back at my battered sky blue truck before starting towards it. I climb into the driver's seat and plunge the keys into the ignition, only stopping when I feel a soft vibration on the truck's bench seat. I look over at my old flip-phone, watching as its small black form rises once more against the vinyl until it becomes silent and still. I reach for it, using my thumb to snap the screen up.
One missed call, It reads.
Then another vibration makes me jump.
One new voice-mail.
My thumb lingers over the button before it puts pressure against the key, and I raise the phone to my ear.
"Har? It's Kish. I just wanted to let you know that the pack and I are around Northern Pennsylvania, if you were anywhere close by. Maybe if you are, you could meet up with us?"
His voice fades, and I think for a moment that he's finished. Then he says,
"Call me back, Harley."
I shut the phone and drop it back onto the vinyl seat. I run a hand through my long dirty-blonde, almost orange hair, running my fingers through to the blackened tips of the strands. I contemplate calling Kish back, since I'm in South Carolina and Pennsylvania, and the drive, though tiresome, isn't really that long. Then I decide against calling him and dig my heel into the gas pedal, my hands sliding like liquid across the leather of the steering wheel. I wait until I pass the "Welcome to North Carolina" sign, then I let out a string of curses as I realize I'm kind of excited to see the pack again.

13. Forever We'll Defend ~ Part 2

"There was no signal from where you were.

All failed contact, no life disturbed.

Hovering above gravity's lure."

At first, I don't think I'm conscious. I believe that I'm simply dreaming. That would explain many things. Like, for instance, the fact that I feel no pain, I can neither see nor sense anything or anyone.

And Ishme is no longer in my arms.

I stir, struggling to get my feet under me and finding trouble in this action.

Be still, Seti.

I slow, then stop. As I do, I realize that I'm floating in darkness. I can feel my wings open behind me, just as I'd left them in my landing attempt earlier. I feel clothes on my body, but still no Ishme.

"Where's my brother?" I call into the black.

He's safe. As are many of you. 

"But," I say, "We didn't make it to the ships."

Thoughts and memories flit around in my brain. I remember why we needed to get to the spaceships in the first place.

"Our planet was attacked," I explain to the unseen stranger, "We were...we're aliens to them. Dangerous. A threat. They were going to kill us. We had to get away, and the ships-"

They weren't the answer. And I'm sorry to say that they didn't make it to where they had expected to go. 

I quiet at that, thinking about all of the spaceships that had already left. I picture them floating, blown to bits and now simply chunks of metal drifting in space.

I curl my knees to my chest and hug my legs. 

"My brothers," I say, "I want to see them."

You're healing. But you'll see them soon.

I feel the powerful urge for sleep overtake my body and I begin to nod my head.

I promise. You're strong, Seti. You'll make it through this.

12. Forever We'll Defend~ Part 1

"No one could outrun the crash.

It was all reduced to rubble, and then again to ash.

To the blinding, burning light, it's no use to fight.

There's no one out there."

I tried to control myself. Tried to still my rapidly beating heart, my pulse that quickened with every step as our small parade of teens and toddlers shuffled to the ships. I keep my wings behind me, folded tightly against my back. I can feel them quivering against my skin, but I control the rest of my body.

"We're okay, Seti," my brother says from beside me. He clasps my hand tightly while in his other arm he carried our younger brother Ishme. "We're gonna be okay."

Ishme has his head tucked into my brother's shoulder, and the older boy tucked his chin over the younger's light purple wisps of hair. 

The three of us are bathed in heat from the crowded bodies of other children. I lean into my older brother's shoulder, trying my hardest to keep calm like he is. It'd be easier if I didn't know what is happening.

"Caomh," I whisper urgently, and he tugs me closer to him. I can feel the layer of smooth scales of his shoulder, peeking out from beneath his wide-cut t-shirt. Pressing my cheek into the cool scales, I shut my eyes, but just until I hear the first round of screams.

Caomh spins, pulling me with him and forcing me to face the wall of fire rising up behind us. The children around us scatter in all directions, but Caomh, being older and wiser that the teens, has a different approach. He grips my hand tighter and we run. The flaming wall doesn't cease, and it sends plumes of smoke into the dark night sky, covering the glittering stars. Then Caomh surprises me by settling Ishme into my arms.

"Cao-"

My brother cups my cheek, his violet eyes staring into my gold. "I'll catch up, I promise. Go, Seti. You have wings. Get Ishme to the ships."

I look from him to the spaceships still arguably far away. Then Caohm pushes me forward.

"Go!"

I spread my wings wide in sudden fear of him and lift myself into the air. Ishme buries his face in my neck, and I look straight forward. Neither he nor I want to watch our older brother fade out of sight. 

I near the ships, seeing the scramble of women and children fighting to get in. I tuck my wings in and dip down to land, but as I do, the ground collapses beneath my feet. I clutch Ishme closer to me as the ground swallows the two of us up. I shut my eyes and fold my wings around our bodies, letting the darkness consume us.

11. Lightning Eyes

"...A perfect halo of gold hair and lightning 

sets you off against the planet's last dance..."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Lana asks me, her hands gripping the top rung of the ladder. I reach down to grip her wrists and gently pull her up beside me.
"Sure," I answer, releasing only one of her hands, lacing my fingers with those of her other. She looks away from me and gazes across the roof. I watch her face, then glance past her at the sun dipping close to the mountaintops, the ball of light barely visible, only a dim outline against the dark clouds that hang over us.
Lana's hand grips mine, our palms curling into each other. "Wow."
I follow her gaze and look out across the rolling fields in front of us. I lead her closer to the edge of the slanted barn roof. We settle with our legs hanging off of the side, and I smile as Lana can't help but peer down to the ground.
"We're pretty high up," she says, voice quivering just a bit.
I start to reply, then stop myself, leaning back on the loose shingles and folding my arms under my head. Lana looks at me for a moment before coming down beside me.
"Pretty," she says, addressing the sky, "but so dark."
"Dark is still pretty," I say.
"Mhm."
She sits up, startled, lightning streaks across the black clouds. I chuckle softly and come up beside her as she eyes the sky.
"But it's not raining," she says.
I shake my head. "Heat storm."
Instead of lying back down, I watch her as she continues to study the sky, jumping a little when the thunder rolls over us. Her pale grey eyes scan the world above, wondering just where the next bolt will strike. When it does, I keep my eyes on hers, on that ripple of shining gold light that branches along her iris', as if the the grey pools are the clouds themselves.
Then she looks at me, mouth still open a bit in silent fascination. "What?"
I shake my head as a few drops of rain start to fall. "Nothing."
So it isn't a heat storm after all.

10. I don't even know what this is...

So it's 2:37 in the morning, and I told myself I would get one more post in tonight (or today whatever) so HERE I AM!! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHHAHAA.
I'm so freaking tired. About four or five hours ago was our choir concert (which was generally pretty pleasant) and then me and bailey went out to dinner with our family (a.k.a Bailey's daddy Keith, Amanda, Abby, Heather, Morgan, Justin, and Tanya). We had to change out of our choir dresses while in the backseat of that super crowded car. Dinner was quite nice. I had rice and soup because I can't each much else. I blame the orthodontist. I bet that the day I get these dumb braces off they will find a new, completely painless and really fast way to straighten teeth. And I'll just be standing there like

Not sure what that one of Dan represents. Just anger I guess. Pitiful anger. but I love that gif. A lot. <3 And the one of Sam's face is just priceless. It gets better every time I look at it.
Anywho, yes that is my angst for the night. We're going four-wheeling tomorrow and I'm gonna be like falling asleep on the seat and yeah it's not gonna be good. I'm kinda just ranting now so I can get 200 words of whatever. Bailey says high. (lol) She says to leave it like that. That's my exhausted keyboard skills for you. Alright, it says I've done it. This was fun. I hoped you enjoyed my angst. Now excuse me while I drift into a hopefully dreamless sleep. Goodnight.

9. A Study in Solitude

Walking slowly with her eyes closed, Emery tries to calm her constantly racing heart for just a moment. She takes everything in: the soft blades of grass running along the bare soles of her feet, the tiny rocks poking out of the shallow dirt and gently scraping across her skin. There's hardly any sound here, only the soft rush of the stream. No birds. No signs of any wildlife. Nothing.
Emery always hated quiet.  She could never concentrate when it surrounded. She just wasn't the kind of girl who found peace in silence. So she does as she always did in situations like this and relies on electronics.
She grips her iPod classic tightly with one hand, reaching up with her other to fit the buds into her ears, one at a time. Then with a slight pressure against the play button, the music ripples into her head. She stands like this for a long time, gently swaying to the familiar but oddly distant rhythm. Where had she heard it before? She doesn't care. At least, not anymore. She no longer has anything to worry about.

Not far off in that same garden, a young man watches the swaying girl.
"So young," he says simply to himself, as if he's ignoring the other boy standing behind him, who shrugs.
"They don't choose to be here, Ethan. You didn't."
"No," Ethan replies, "but some do."
He tugs some blades from the dirt and rubs them between his fingers, leaving green stains on his skin.
"She doesn't know we're here," he says, letting the blades slip from his fingers.
"No," his friend replies, "I don't think she wants to. Perhaps she wants to be alone."
"Why?" Ethan asks, "Who would want to be alone in a place like this?"
He looks up and meets his friends pale grey eyes, and he shrugs. "This may just be her solitude, Ethan. Everyone has different interests. This must be hers. She's getting what she never had in her life."
Ethan glances back at the girl, who keeps her eyes shut as she listens to her music.
"Perhaps."
His friend moves to walk away, but Ethan stays where he is on the ground, watching as the girl starts to slowly spin in circles around one of the garden fountains.
"Solitude," he says to himself.

8. (still not named) part 3

~Kiri~

I wake in an slightly uncomfortable position, lying on my side with a hand pressed over my mouth. Fear shudders through me for a moment until a voice says, "Don't scream. I won't hurt you."
I shut my eyes momentarily then take in a shaky breath as the hand leaves my lips. The it grips my arm and pulls me to my knees. When I open my eyes again I meet dark brown ones, the iris' dotted with worry and determination.
"Come with me," the girl says hurriedly, tugging on my arm. She manages to drag the disoriented me to my feet and towards one of the village homes, all of which look unfamiliar to me. Where am I? This can't be my village.
"Wait-" I say, only to have a hand clap over my mouth again, but not by the girl. I freeze as I'm pressed against a hard chest.
"Not so loud," a deep voice behind me commands. The girl lets go of my hand and turns.
"Icarus," she urges, "Not now."
The boy restraining me ignores her, and as he leans closer I feel his breath against my earlobe. "We're trying to help you out, so just shut up and follow us."
Perhaps under different circumstances, maybe I would've done something rebellious to protect my dignity, but instead I nod against his hand and he releases me.
"The hideout, Sif," he says to the dark-eyed girl, who nods and takes my wrist, pulling me away. As she does, I look back at the boy, Icarus, who meets my gaze. As Sif turns a corner and drags me behind her, I tear my eyes away from Icarus' slightly relieved to escape his dark grey iris', speckled with gold, like lightning striking a stormy sea.
"What's going on?" I ask Sif, trying to shake my hand away from her's, but she holds tight. "Where are you taking me."
"Quiet," she says simply, tugging me further and further into the darkness of the unlit village.
"Why do I have to-"
My breath is knocked out of me as she throws the two of us to the right. The back of my skull meets the hard red clay of the walls, and I gasp.
"We have to hide," Sif hisses in my ear, "You have to be quiet. Now."
"Why," I choke. "Who are we hiding fro-"
She puts an arm across my chest, pressing me tighter against the wall and quieting me. Then I hear it.
The soft shuffle of feet.
I look over at Sif, but she doesn't meet my gaze. Her seemingly warm brown eyes stare straight forward, cold against the darkness that surrounds us. The shuffling grows closer, and following it is forced, shallow breath coming out in heaves. Sif's arm tightens against me as it nears the end of the wall we're pressed against.
It stops, and I turn my head towards it as it stares at the road in front of it. For a moment, I expect it to turn and notice us, but its hooded face stays hidden from me as it continues down the path, its dark cloak trailing behind it in the dirt. As it passes a few more houses, seemingly out of hearing range, Sif whispers,
"We're hiding from the Collectors."

7. (Still don't know what to call it) part 2

~Noah~

The trees thicken, their spindly, needled branches gently scraping my legs and face. I blink against them as I run, every once in a while looking to my right as the sun slowly dips down, further and further behind the mountain. I have to hurry.
Luckily, as this thought rang in my mind for the umpteenth time, a new light catches my attention, and I turn to see flames leaping up from a large torch reaching out from a guard tower nearby. Heart clenching in hope, I quicken my gait, ignoring the sharp thorns burying themselves into my feet as I tear my way through bushes. I stop near the edge of the wood, resting my body against the barked trunk of a large pine. I eye the tower, then look towards the main building, one small mark signifying my destination.
A small carving of a feather etched into the wood.
I surge forward, ignoring the shouts from the guard tower that soon grow softer as the sound of my ragged breath reaches my ears. I throw myself towards the opening of the hall, running my hand along the wood for balance as I pass it. My finger slides over the carving before the rest of my body crosses into the hall. I run, my feet thankful for the soft but sturdy dirt floor beneath me. I let out a gasp as I see the large wooden doors. Then I notice the armed guard in front of it. The dark-skinned soldier spots me immediately.
"Stop!" he shouts.
I open my mouth but can't manage words to come out with my gasps. Instead of following his orders, I decide to use something stronger than words. I come up to him at a run, stopping just short of him and resting my palm against his bare chest. He steps back, but my hand stays on his skin. He reaches out to knock my hand away, but he can't seem to get his fingers around my wrist. A barrier-like force keeps him from harming me.
I don't have time to explain, I urge, my words reaching him through my fingers spreading further across his dark skin, My name is Noah. I mean your master no harm, but I must see him this instant.
The guard falls away from me, stunned. I push past him, thankful when he makes no move to stop me. I through myself against the door and sprint into the room, immediately falling to the carpet of animal skins. My body shudders, finally giving way after hours of exhaustion.
Then I feel two hands on my shoulders, gently holding me upright. Then a palm rests against my forehead.
"Ila," I mutter, my lips barely able to utter the name.
"Yes," the man answers softly, "I'm here, prophetess. What have you to tell me."
I meet his eyes, as equally dark as my own, then shut them, feeling my breath leave me for a moment before coming out in heaves.
"Noah," Ila says worriedly. I reach out to him, touching his chest like I had the guards, and muster that thought once more before falling into the darkness of sleep.
The Marksmen have returned. 

6. (I don't know what to name it yet!) part 1 :P

~Noah~

I run.

I don't know what else to do. 

I'm lost. 

Alone.

I've no home to go back to. At least, not anymore. 

I'm a stranger in this land. 

Worst case scenario, I'll get picked up by soldiers.

But I've gotten this far, and I know who I need to see.

So I run, the soles of my feet sore and burned from my attempts to leap over the flames now far behind me. Even still, black smoke billows against the sky above, dark against the pleasant color of the evergreens reaching far into the wood. Even though I've reached the wider part of the forest, far from my abandoned village, I don't rest. I can't, even though I know that I'm not being followed. What soldier would follow a simple girl when ranks of angry farms-men stood in front of them. I clutch my chest at the remembrance of my brave kinsman, the one reason I was able to escape into the safety of the forest. I owed them, and I would make it to my destination. I tug my thick woolen cloak tighter around my thin shoulders and continue my quick gait, determined to get to the other village before nightfall.

Because I'm afraid if I don't make it by then, it will be too late. Already I can feel the one thought I'd played over in my head start to slip away, no matter how much I think of it.

That one thought that may well save us all.

5. Future Movies

Les Miserables-

I'm really mad about this one, because I've been looking forward to it for so long only to be greatly disappointed. I mean, sure, I'm being pretty biased by immediately fixing all my hatred onto Amanda Seyfried, but the girl uses too much vibrato and I just can't see her as Cosette. Also, in the scene where Javert is releasing Valjean, they freaking changed the words in the script, and that really makes me angry. If you're going to make it a musical movie, then at least leave the songs as they are. They didn't need to change anything, the regular words would've fit perfectly. Soooo yes basically if they changed Cosette, I'd be cool with it. And Eponine is freaking perfect in so many ways.













The Hobbit:

I'm freaking out about this. I get to go see it next friday and I'm just like asjdsdjfhsfhaskfasjdsaakfajflasjfaksflasjfasfhkasfkasdfjakdf. Enough said there.

Warm Bodies:

This looks really good. It's like a romantic comedy about a zombie falling in love with a human. I haven't read the book yet, but it is currently beside me in my purse, so yes. I'm excited about this one as well.

4. Lonni ~part 1

Alright, I'm sick of the cliche beginnings of stories, so I'm just going to start this out like I was taught in third grade English.
Hello.
My name is Lonni Creever, and believe it or not, I am your completely average teenager. I'm about to finish my third year of high school, and truthfully, I've no idea what I'm going to do over the summer. Even though I have a sorry excuse for a car, I don't have a job yet, and my folks say that if I don't get one soon then college is looking pretty far away, even though right now it's hard enough to see as it is.
"Just get a job, then," my acquaintance (okay, friend) Emmy from first period history says to me constantly.
On other occasions I would just shrug the suggestion off with a snort, but today I meet her gaze loosely and ask, "Do you know where I can find one?"
That's how I ended up where I am now, standing in front of a large (and almost threatening) office building. I gently tap the toe of my boot against the sidewalk.
"Newspaper, eh?" I question indirectly, looking down the sidewalk on both sides. Finding it empty, I take a step forward and wrap my fingers around the door before turning the knob.
I call into the foyer of the building, or at least, I would've if a hand hadn't hastily snatched mine.
"Hel-."
I'm tugged away from the door and pulled a bit further down the walk, away from the building. I require a moment to come to my senses before tugging my hand away.
"Let go of me!" I try to hide the rising terror in my voice, which fades as soon as my hand rests again at my side. My captor turns to me, and I promise, I don't lose my breath, even though I want to very badly.
The boy looks at me, tossing a long tail of black hair behind him and focusing his dark eyes on my own green. For a moment, the message they send is urgent, screaming. Then he softens and looks away.
"Sorry about that," he says, "it was uncalled for."
I look at him for a moment, then see the packet in his hand not unlike the one gripped in my own.
"Hey," I say, "If you want the job instead, go for it."
He doesn't meet my eyes, only raises a hand to rake his fingers through his hair, causing a few wispy strands to fall from the tail. He doesn't really seem like the chatty type, so I decide to finish it there, as much I think I'll regret my choice later.
"Go ahead," I say, "I'll back off."
He shakes his head slowly, eyes still refusing to meet mine again. I bite my lip.
"That's not what I pulled you away for," he says, obviously staying quiet out of confusion, not because he's shy.
"Well, whatever the reason, it's okay," I say, turning. "It's okay."
"Sorry," he says again.
"It's cool," I call back without turning. Little did I know that the headache and fever that will settle in later tonight will not be caused by stress, but because that boy had grabbed my hand.

3. Searching for Refuge

"I'm so tired."

That was the one thought that ran on repeat in my mind as I walked along the sidewalk. Rain had fallen earlier that day, and the heat from this painfully scorching night brought up small wafts of steam from the slick concrete. Even among this heavy heat, I still felt a chill shudder along my neck every once in a while. Once again the phone in my back pocket vibrated, startling me enough to make me slow my gait. I took a deep breath and ignored the device, stepping. I didn't know who the caller is, and honestly, I couldn't care at that moment. I hugged my arms loosely, my fingers gently gripping the material of my light material of my long-sleeved collared shirt.

"Just one more block."

...

"I think."

I sighed heavily at this, turning my head away from the street and towards the empty park before me. Near a patch of thirsty tulips I spotted a bench.

Yes, a bench.

The weary soles of my feet begged for rest, and I took a moment to digest this thought, all the while gazing at the smooth marble seat. 

"But I'm so close."

I stepped forward, back on the sidewalk and away from the bench. As I quickened my stride I slipped the phone from my pocket and flipped it open, my thumb already flying as it punched numbers. Thankfully, as late as it is, the receiver picked up on the second ring.

"Kally?"

"Hey," I said in a soft voice. "Can I come over?"

"Sure." He sounded tired. I dreaded for a moment that I'd woken up, then he said."I was just studying. Do you need me to pick you up?"

"Actually," I said, stopping my gait. "I'm kinda already here."

A small hesitation. "Oh. Okay."

I looked up at one of the small windows on the third floor and spot a shadow behind the curtains. "C'mon in, then."

I slapped the cellphone closed and continued looking at the window, waiting for the shadow to move away. Then it was drawn back, and the boy looked down at me, a small, almost pitying smile on his face. But I knew better. It wasn't pity. He just knew me.

I step towards the door and rest my hand on the knob, wondering why it took me such a long time to find my refuge.