Miss Tiry Queen @misstiryqueen-blog - Tumblr Blog

Moving and revamping

Hi all.

I'm making a new tumblr. This one won't be updated anymore. I'm also going to revamp everything I've written so far for Tiry to make it less...terrible. I don't know how or why any of you are reading this, but I've made the decision because I fucking hate what I've written so far. I'll be sure to write it more eloquently. Thanks guys.

This isn't really an "Ask" but Sparky has asked me to inform you that he wishes to rip your tongue out. oAo;; That is all.

WHAT DID I DO? oAo!!!

...ohwaitfuckIthinkIknowwhatIdidnow.

DAMMIT WOMAN.

Goddamn it fataaaaal! ;~;

I KEEP CRYING ON MY KEYBOARD. AND MY PICTURE.

KAIDA AND TREVOR ARE NOT ALLOWED TO EVER BE SAD OR SEPARATED, OKAY? OKAY. I'M GOING TO CRY FOREVER IF THEY ARE. AND YES. THIS POST WAS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY BECAUSE I CAN'T. STOP. CRYING. ON EVERYTHING. ;~;

I REALLY HOPE YOU GET THIS ONE. AND TO EXPRESS MY SINCERITY I AM GOING TO TYPE IN ALL CAPS. ((((; AND I SAID THIS IN MY PREVIOUS MESSAGES BUT THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR POSTING I'M SO HAPPY AND EVEN THOUGHT IT MIGHT NOTHAVE BEEN BECAUSE OF ME I STILL READ IT. DRAW EVERYONE. TOO AMAZING TO LEAVE OUT. I'VE NEVER TYPED IN ALL CAPS BEFORE THIS IS SO COOL OH AND AREYA SAYS 'ACCIDENTAL MATING'!

WELL APPARENTLY MY MESSAGES ONLY DECIDE TO ACCEPT THINGS WRITTEN IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS FROM YOU. I WONDER IF TUMBLR HAS A THING FOR CAPSLOCK.

I THINK THAT WRITTEN KITTEN THING REALLY HELPED. I'M CONSIDERING BUYING MYSELF WRITE OR DIE FOR MY COMPUTERS TO GET ME POSTING FASTER TOO. OHGOD. I DID A FEW DOODLE DUMPS, BUT THEY HAVE SPOILER CHARACTERS OR AU CHARACTERS SO I CAN'T SHARE THEM. YET.

Hungry, Hungry Tumblr.

Hi. So, it's come to my notice that tumblr keeps having some weird desire to eat my messages. I don't know why, but I'm aware that someone has been trying to send me something, but I haven't gotten any messages. At all. Nada. Not a one.

That said, this is going to be a test to see how many messages I get and...er. I guess it's a popularity contest too. Anyways, I'm going to leave this up for a while and let you people tell me what to do with my life for a bit because I have some intense desires to draw some Miss Tiry characters. <3

Anyways, leave me a message or an ask or whatever with your favorite character (lol I'm sure only 2 or 3 people actually read this shit) and I'll compile the votes and get a few doodles of them out or something. Kay? Kay.

I'm done now.

Akai out, yo~

>:[ Do you want Sparky to go all slaughter-status on you for denying your amazingness?

asldkjg;a! Noooooo! He'll really, really kill me you know! ;~;

Sparky is scary when he does that shit man. God, it's a good thing Tiry didn't pick up a whole lot of that from him. >:I

>:[ Why are you denying that you're so freaking amazing?

oAo;

Because I haven't written anything or posted anywhere in forever? >:

So like, why are you so freaking' amazing? <3

owo; Um, I'm really, really not, but thankies anyways? xD{/sloooowly creeps back to work on Black Queen}

Two words

All it would have taken were two words, but you couldn't tell them to me Eight hundred sixty-seven logs. Years of sleepless nights. And this is what it amounts to. A hospital bed. A needle. A pulse. And I can never forgive you. You asked me to stay strong. You gave me what I never wanted. You gave me what you didn't have. All for the sake of two words. And you thought I was too weak to take it. Too weak to take the needle from my flesh like you. You were not wrong. But your strength amounts to nothing in the wake of the bottle, In the path of the pain that you did not speak. And in eight hundred sixty-seven conversations, You never said it once. A hospital bed. A needle. A flatline. All it would have taken were two words.

HI. You don't know me, but I really really really like you. I think if I ever met you I'd probably melt and just watch you from far away. Okay, I'm sorry. I'll leave you now with this useless ask. (((:

Oh hello to you too! <:

I have the feeling I know who you are though, if my hunch is correct. I SWEAR I WILL POST SOON.

Q & A: GOGOGO!

So in order to motivate me to start working on characterization, I'm going to hold a rapid-fire "Question and answer" session.

You can ask anything of anyone. If it doesn't deal too majorly in plot, I'll explain it via that character.

This probably won't last much longer than a day or two. Maybe less. When I've gotten all the questions, I'll go on a rapid fire answering spree here.

Happy interrogating~

#miss tiry queen #tiry #queen #miss #question #answer #characters #interrogate #information #for the lulz

"Tumblr. Stop eating my notes. Thank you."

Black Queen pt. 4

“Good afternoon, Miss Tiry. Here for your treatment?” a bright and sunny disposition greeted me in spite of the dark gloominess of the building that housed her. I stared straight at the brunette behind the dark oak desk without much of a change in my expression. That was Clarissa, the happiest psychic that I have ever known to exist. She was one of those rare types that wasn’t strongly affected by the entire “the world wants psychics to go extinct, so it tries to wipe us out” aspect of being...well, a psychic. Most psychics that saw her thought it was inspiring and then ran off to figure out why there was no particular rhyme or reason to the entire “by the way the world hates you” sort of thing. For me, it was just a slap to the face that bred from a burning envy in the pit of my stomach. Not that I don’t like when other people are happy, but sometimes you can’t help but hate. One life is not the equal of another, and as much as others might want to convince you of that, it’s simply not true. The weight of my life will never be as much as that of my mother. Hers will never have the weight of a god. That’s all there is to it.

“Where’s the doctor?” which was a fair question. He was usually at the front to take me into his treatment--primarily because it was highly experimental and I was the only one that didn’t give enough of a damn to the state that my body would end up with to go through with the experiment--all I asked in return was for another procedure that was less experimental on top of that. I hated going to either treatment--they both hurt like a bitch.

“Dr. Tan is waiting for you in the back,” and there was a movement of a pale hand as Clarissa gestured to the back. It was hard for me to ignore how abnormally thin she was--barely more than a skeleton. She was a pretty woman other than that--as if god had blessed her with the appearance of an angel then marred it by putting on those traits onto a too-thin body. Her shoulder length hair was clipped back out of her face in controlled curls. The smile on her face seemed to round out her otherwise too-narrow cheeks though, which was relieving in and of itself. “Good luck, Miss Tiry!”

“...yeah...” and my feet took me to the back, my mind not really needing to be present to take me through the dimly lit hallways. Most people would have been afraid of walking into a shady place like this--I felt safe...to a certain extent. For normal things, Dr. Tan was the most reliable option, but for what I was doing...he was the only option. Besides that particular point of business, I never liked hospitals. Not since the accident. I’ve avoided those towers of death whenever I could ever since that stupid car crash.

“Ah, Black-Queen. You’re here,” the sound of Dr. Tan’s voice crept through the air, making me stiffen a little as I kept walking. His voice wasn’t displeasing--rather, most people would have adored the smooth midtones of the doctor’s voice. My mind simply associated it with the pain that generally came within twenty minutes of hearing it. “Come, have a seat and we’ll get started.”

There was enough light and a short enough distance by then to let me see the man clearly. He sported a long face with a fairly masculine jawline and a dusty hair color that was peppered with gray, combed back as best as it could be. A pair of round spectacle lenses seemed to magnify the sharp eyes that peered down at me. I am, by all means, not a short girl. I’m five foot seven--which is a pretty good height for an Asian. Dr. Tan? He’s about six foot five, and I feel like a child when I stand next to him. He wasn’t entirely muscular, but he was certainly bulky enough to be seen as masculine. If he had ever searched for a significant other, I imagine plenty of women would be interested in his looks--his personality? Maybe not so much. The only people that seemed to be capable of dealing with him were Clarissa and his assistant--a silent girl that would stare at me with such cold and calculating eyes that I wondered whether she saw me as just another patient file. I knew that it was just the way that she was raised though--she came from the School of God’s Senses, which was comprised namely of one family. They were the reason why the Assembly couldn’t quite explain how the process by which psychic abilities worked--generally speaking, genetics couldn’t determine things like the amount of work each section of the brain put forth, meaning that psychic abilities shouldn’t have been genetic. The School of God’s Senses seemed to exist to prove that wrong.

But they were known to be one of the highest ranking divination branch Schools in the Assembly. According to Steve, they’re all about the equivalent of robots. They know nothing but their work, and they are incapable of making mistakes when it comes to their profession. What they do, they do well. Most of them go into the medical field because of their ability...Dr. Tan’s assistant is one of many Kanmoto family members. In general, you can tell when a Kanmoto is using their ability on you--their eyes turn pink. It’s just harder to tell when their eyes are always pink.

The assistant, or rather, Kaida, usually had brown eyes until the shift. She had a professional air about her, but from memory she couldn’t have been older than seventeen--probably the reason why this place was so shady. To be fair, while Dr. Tan was a legitimate doctor at some point, he ducked out of common practice and went straight into psychic work after finding out his abilities were very strongly suited for healing of any sort. Unfortunately, most people don’t really take kindly to the “specialized treatments” that doctors offer, so his clientele was pretty limited. Specialized meaning that only psychics and weirdos ended up showing up to his office. That was well and good enough though...the less people that showed up to create hell for me when I did, the faster I could get my things done and over with.

Then again, I suppose most people might get turned off by a rather large chair that has heavy duty restraints and a strange head gear attachment that looks like something from a science fiction movie. That was...well, that was for my treatment. It sounds bad, and I admit, it is much, much worse than anything I could ever describe. Kaida directed me to the chair, as was the standard procedure when it came to these...treatments. I made a light grimace and she seemed to smile a little at me in spite of her expression being set into a blank stone slate.

“You are apprehensive, Miss Black-Queen,” there was a tinge of curious amusement in her voice. I suddenly felt very small in the wake of that knowledge--Kaida was, perhaps, one of the smartest people I knew. Next to Steve, she was definitely right up there. From what I remembered, she was also very cold and methodical in her approach to increasing her knowledge. If Steve had been in her head instead of mine...well, I imagine that the spirit would have been quite the happy camper. Unlike me, Kaida was unnaturally vicious, and she had absolutely no qualms against doing some of the most terrifying things just because it would net her a better reaction in the end.

To be completely honest, she terrified me.

“You’re about to strap me to a chair. I think I have reason to be nervous,” the words came out a little sharper than I meant for them to. It was instinct on my part, really--when threatened, I bared my fangs. In spite of that, I settled down in the rather uncomfortable chair that Kaida had motioned to. She stood over me, her magenta eyes staring straight into me as though I was not a person, but a diagram.

“You have done this before. There is no reason to be nervous about this,” and her fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling it with a surprising amount of strength to one of the arm rests before doing exactly what I said she was about to do. The feel of leather coiling around my wrist made me feel infinitely unsafe. This was standard procedure too--to ensure that I didn’t lose it like the first time I’d undergone these treatments. Stimulating the cells that they wanted to was risky in that I couldn’t quite control where or when they would react. They also couldn’t really determine how violent the effect would be. Kaida pulled my other hand into place and pulled the belt tight around my arm, earning a frown on my part.

“That’s a bit tight, don’t you think?” I questioned while moving my arm a little uncomfortably. She gave me a look of both complete disinterest and yet abnormally large amounts of a fascination from an emotionless face. Every movement she made was marked with something that made me feel uneasy--as though there was something preying on me from within a girl that was at least three inches shorter than me. That icy silk smile crept into her voice as she moved on to the next hand without uttering so much as a word to me. There was no difference in the tightness between hands before she kicked the metal cuffs that would keep my legs in place shut with a clang. It was about then that I was exposed to exactly how little she cared about me as a whole. A flick of layered dark hair marked her turn away from me as she stepped straight into her usual spot in the shadows of the room, her eyes glinting rather eerily in the light.

Ugh. That was never going to stop creeping me out.

“Sorry about the wait, Black-Queen. I had a bit of clean up to do,” the all-too-familiar peppered hair of Dr. Tan came into sight. As usual, he gave me a once over with cool eyes, as though debating whether to do what I was essentially paying the bastard to do. I felt my muscles flex involuntarily against the restraints for a moment, as though it would help me get out. He frowned at the cuffs for a moment and immediately glanced over at Kaida. “Now I know you’re interested in bondage, but do you think you could play nicer with the patients?”

I felt heat wash over my cheeks and a frown pulled at the corner of my lips. Bondage...really? A whole spectrum of topics he could have chosen to start with, and he went straight for the weird fetishes and kinks? I shot a little glare at the doctor, and he simply smiled at me as though oblivious to how much I hated him at that exact moment. Kaida, on the other hand, remained...blank. She didn’t react to the comment, which was only to be expected. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was lobotomized. To some degree, I was sure she had some non-physical version of it. Somewhere deep in my gut I felt a pang of pity for the girl--there was a lot that she would never get to experience because of her family. I couldn’t help but want to extend a sympathetic hand to her, but I was more than aware that she would probably slap it away without a second thought. Kanmoto psychics were not known for their friendly nature, after all.

“Oh that’s right, you’re not fond of those topics. Well then, what should we talk about while the equipment warms up?” that smile that tugged on the edges of the doctor’s face made my insides squirm in discomfort. My mind immediately shot the word nothing at him, but I kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t like he ever really listened to me anyways. Kneeling so that he was at my level, the old man stared at me full on. Steve lapped up the features of his face, committing them to the large database of individuals that it had gathered in its...er...my head. “What it is that girls your age talk about now? Bands? Make up? Fashion? Or the that hot guy that moved in across the block?”

He was taunting me. Bastard. That smile tugged ever wider across his face and I resisted the urge to strain against the belts connecting me to the chair in a mad hope that they would give away to my not-so-incredible strength so I could just clock the doctor. Just once. It occurred to me that my thoughts were already getting more aggressive than they usually were, and I shot a withering glare straight at the man.

“Bastard, you’re supposed to tell me before you start working, Tan,” there wasn’t really a definite relationship between doctor and patient when it came to these shady dealings. The doctor was friendly--a vast majority of his small patient pool were close to him. They enjoyed his quirky-yet-curious personality more than I ever could. I, on the other hand, tried to keep the man at a distance, all too aware that he was aware of who my parents were and exactly how much research he could get done if I would just let him have at me. As it was now, he was getting to test something out on me, which was something he took great pleasure in, but he wouldn’t get much done other than that test.

All in all, Dr. Tan is a good guy though. Considering how I’m strapped to a chair every time I visit him, he’s done nothing apart from what I asked and what I allowed him to do. There were side-effects, but he’d warned me, and there was a certain amount of chivalry in how he worked. Truth be told, the man could have done everything at once and been done with it, but after seeing what happened the first time, he proposed that we work in intervals to prevent severe damage to my mind and body.

Kaida, on the other hand, had objected to it, saying that it was a waste of resources. If I had problems with it, then it was something I would have to take care of. I agreed with her to some extent. As little as I liked it, she was right about that.

“Sorry, sorry. I just get so excited when I see you. Don’t you feel special?” he turned away and picked up a syringe. I grimaced at the thought of the thin needle penetrating my flesh again. I hated that damn thing. A few flicks against the glass to ensure that there were no oxygen bubbles in the mix that might kill me. “Not many people can be serious when they call themselves the last of their kind.”

“I’m not the last psychic,” I snapped at the man. The doctor towered over me, his eyes staring down at me with a mixture of pity and scientific interest. I didn’t know whether to feel safe or threatened by it. Once more kneeling to my level, he moved his gloved hand over my paling flesh, as though wiping some unseen substance away. There was a soft cough from Kaida in the corner to snatch the doctor’s attention.

“There is a better spot about five inches higher,” said the robot-of-a-psychic. “Circulation will spread the serum further before it fades.”

“Now, now, we said we’d take it one step at a time,” and there was a sharp sting as the doctor gave a quick slap to my arm. The snapping sound resounded in the empty room and I gave an edged glare at the man as he inspected the now blossoming marks of red. I knew, of course, that he was aiming to let me ensure that I was in safe hands by showing me where he was going to inject the damn serum, but it was an unwelcome experience nonetheless. “Ready for it, Black-Queen?”

“No, but do it anyways,” I muttered through clenched teeth. There was a brief moment where I couldn’t tell if Dr. Tan was infinitely amused and delighted at the answer or whether he was sorry and pitying for hearing it. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. He wasn’t exactly as bad as Kaida, but at least I could tell what Kaida was more likely to do. I braced myself for the sharp little peck of the needle that had yet to come.

“This will hurt. Just bear with it, miss,” and the needle pricked my arm. I took in a sharp little breath as the serum went straight into my blood stream. A serum made up of things that I probably didn’t want to know about, but evidently the Assembly had produced it for the School of Bolstered Strength to enhance their abilities on the use of certain soldiers of the Assembly. Case in point, the Enforcers. The needle pulled out, leaving a little pressure in the area around the wound it had created. The doctor put a band-aid on it--one that was pink and had splotches of white and red that I presumed were Hello Kitty faces. The sight of the little pink blob disappeared soon after my mind registered it, covered almost immediately by the headgear that I was starting to grow accustomed to. I tried to will myself into relaxation.

“Kaida, start it up and open the displays. I want to see the progress this time,” that commanding voice was almost nothing like the man that had been talking to me earlier. It made me feel like I was actually in good hands for the procedure. “Everything looks good...alright, Black-Queen...we’re going to put you under now.”

A searing pain shot through my entire body, focusing in on one point to the side of my skull--as if someone had punctured me with a spike and jammed the needle straight into a bundle of pain receptors in my brain. In spite of my best efforts, I couldn’t help but give a short cry of surprise. Less than two seconds later, I was out like a light.

#Black #black queen #detective #fantasy #fiction #miss #tiry #queen #miss tiry queen #modern #original #prose #psychic #sanctos #saphii #saphii sanctos #tiryon #writing

Black Queen pt. 3

I will be the first to admit that talking is not one of my strong points, at least, not about things that I don't want to get into. I end up doing stupid things like clam up and stutter more often than not. The more important it is, the more likely it is that I'm going to start doing that. One of the side effects of being incapable of lying, I guess. It was uncanny how similar this car ride was to the first one I'd had with Joshua too. There was a flurry of emotions, and most of them had been unpleasant. I suppose the only real difference was that I wasn't angry at him this time—I was more understanding.

This wasn't his fault, and I knew it. This was mine.

“You've been...quiet the past few months,” and there was that little emphasis on quiet that told me that Joshua had changed the word right before he'd said it out loud. I knew what he was really thinking. Inactive. Joshua wasn't good at speaking without that kind of distancing professional language that managed to make him so damn unlikable to the general populace. I gave him a look. He was trying to fix it, and he'd been trying ever since the Winterfest Fall incident. After his wife, Charity, had died...well, admittedly, he had to do something about his daughter. That wasn't the way you talked to a girl that could barely understand that her mother had died. “Stone and his brother have been looking for you,”

“I heard,” there was an awkward moment of silence that dragged out over what felt like an eternity. In reality, it couldn't have been more than a few seconds, if even that long. Joshua shot a glance over to me before returning is gaze to the road. I gave a mental cringe and hoped that he hadn't noticed anything much.

“You need to eat more,” and now he was starting to sound like the caring relatives that I didn’t quite have. I tried to put a smile on my face in response, but it felt strained. I let the facade drop and went with a little uncomfortable laugh instead. There wasn’t a lot of point in trying to convince him that I wasn’t getting unhealthily thin in spite of all my efforts not to be. Exercise didn’t do much for my muscles--just made them denser, but not bigger.

“What? You’re trying to fatten me up now?” no, he wasn’t. I knew that. Stress and overexertion had left their marks on me--I’m sure that there were gray hairs already forming on my head. Twenty-two and already getting old. “Look, I have to get home. Doctor’s appointment tomorrow and all.” I kind of wished that wasn’t the case, but I did have an appointment with my doctor. Not that I was getting anything for sickness or stress--I had gone of my own volition. A certain treatment that encouraged and supported muscle growth. When the doctor told me that I could back out of it any time I wanted to, I had taken that as a sign that it would hurt. It did. A lot.

It was going to be my third treatment tomorrow, and I wasn’t really looking forward to it. “You should give Stone a call. He’s getting worried,” Joshua’s words bit into my like an icy steel rod to the spine. Odd, considering his tone was one of concern rather than ire. A little tilt of my head and I was staring straight at the blonde. He was getting older much faster than Nicholas was. I suppose that’s what being a father in the government’s line of work does to you. I felt that customary pang of guilt when I had to remember to tack the word single onto the description. Charity died about two years ago during the Winterfest Fall incident, and I doubted that someone like Joshua would ever go looking for another woman to marry. “Is something going on?”

“...just some family things,” not a lie. This was family, no matter how little I wanted it to be. I earned a raised eyebrow--Joshua knew that I had no immediate family to speak of. I lived alone, and my grandparents didn’t live with me. My mother was “missing” and my father was dead. I doubted that there could have been much that dealt with family in that sense. “It’s...complicated. I’ll get it sorted out eventually.”

“How complicated?” there was that edge to Joshua’s voice that made me cringe internally again. I should have figured that Nicholas would have told him about my mother--not the psychic part, or course, but the entire “she was the world’s most wanted criminal before she disappeared” thing went down pretty badly. After my recovery from the incident with the Church, Nicholas and I had words about that. A lot of angry and insulting words that were designed to try and tear each other down. That wasn’t the first time we got into a fight, but it was the only one where we legitimately wanted to break each other down until there was nothing left to fight with. He was angry because of who my mother really was, and i was angry because he was giving me that damnable judgment because of that.

That was the last time I spoke to him.

“Just...some things that got left behind. Nothing that you should concern yourself with,” which sounded like it was something illegal. It wasn’t, but talking about it could get me into enough trouble as it was. “I can take care of things. I don’t want to get involved in anything like my mother did. I’m not that kind of person.”

“I think we both know that whether you’re that kind of person or not doesn’t matter,” Joshua’s words hit me like frozen bullets. He was right--it didn’t matter. Not wanting to get involved with the shitfest that woman left behind wasn’t the same as being able to get out of it. Her criminal life had already caught up to me two years ago, but this was something different. It was the look that Joshua gave me that told me it wasn’t the criminal life that he was talking about that, and I was suddenly reminded that I’d already told him what he deserved to know of the psychic community. His wife, for instance, had been a psychic in one of the strongest schools of psychokinesis to have ever existed. One of only six that had ever had a Clearing Order set onto them. The School of Flawless Memory had an incredibly ability though, which only made it reasonable that everyone else would fear them. Anyone within their effective range could have their own abilities turned against them.

Even people from the School of Destructive Mind would have been afraid of that, and they were capable of creating psionic bombs that, depending on how strong someone was, could potentially turn a city about half the size of Los Angeles into a pile of rubble.

“You can’t be that worried about me. I’ve been through some tough times, you know that,” I tried to divert the man’s attention from what he really wanted to know. It was a simple method of keeping the truths I didn’t want to be told out of the light, but it didn’t work with people that didn’t get caught up in the moment. Hell, other than our last conversation, it had never worked on Nicholas.

“That may be so, but you can’t disappear and expect us not to be worried,” there was a tinge of something in Joshua’s voice there. I hadn’t heard it used on me before--he always laced that concerned tone into conversations that dealt with Ellie, particularly when the little one was in trouble of some sort. This was something...surprising for me, to be honest. For as long as I’d known him (which, admittedly, wasn’t that long), Joshua had never taken that tone with me before. Rather, we kept each other at a fair enough distance that we could tread carefully with our words. There wasn’t any choice in the matter. It was my fault that his wife had died, and there were parts of both of us that were trying hard to overcome that. “Just get in contact with Stone. You don’t have to tell him anything, just let him know that you’re okay.”

“You make that sound easy,” which it should have been. It wasn’t. Something kept me from picking up the phone to call and see if he was still too angry at me to have a conversation, and while I would have loved for that reason to have been a white hot rage that blinded me to logic, it wasn’t. I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. Some lingering fear that pressed against me. “It’s not like he thinks I can’t take care of myself.”

“Oh, Stone is perfectly convinced that you can fend for yourself,” there was a thoughtful pause, as if there weren’t correct words to continue that sentence with. “No doubt, you could be completely self sufficient, but not everything can be resolved by being self sufficient.” And not everything can be handled alone. Was that what Joshua wanted to tell me? I gave him a look, but he didn’t look at me in return. Rather, he pulled into my driveway and left the engine running for a moment. There was a long moment of silence of contemplation--neither of us really knew what came next. When it had lingered for too long for my own tastes, I moved my hand to open the car door and get out, but Joshua decided that was the perfect moment to speak up.

“Take care of yourself, Tiry,” there was a moment as he tried to gather his next words. Coming from Joshua, this was unexpected. Cool and never-flinching Joshua at a loss for words when he had been the starter of a conversation? It wasn’t something I could honestly say that I expected. A breath. “Don’t get yourself into more than you can handle.”

“Ha, right,” I made sure not to say that I wouldn’t, because to my perspective knowledge, I was going to get myself into more than I could handle. I was sure that Joshua already knew that though. I had just taken the liberty of all but disappearing for about half a year--people didn’t do that without already being in more shit than they could wade through with a floatation device. “Thanks for the ride, Joshua. Now what did you really come to talk to me about?”

“What?” there was legitimate surprise that traced along the edges of his tone. I gave him a slightly raised eyebrow and let my hand linger on the smooth metal of the car door’s handle, earning a slight shift of discomfort from the older man. See, I have this uncanny knack for not being talked to unless there’s an ulterior motive. Not to mention that Joshua had bigger things to worry about than the Stone brothers and my own well being. He was one of the higher ranking men of the country--there were probably things that he should have prioritized above both of those.

“Come on, out with it. Don’t make me start guessing,” which I could do pretty easily. Knowing Joshua, you could narrow it all down to just about three topics. Work, Ellie, or that damnable woman that I kept hearing about: Maria. Now, seeing that I wasn’t someone that knew much about Maria, I could easily just start throwing names out. Vincent Jasmine Black would have been my second guess. Ellie was probably more likely.

“About the...er...psychic Assembly,” oh? This was new. Joshua hadn’t brought this up since after Charity died. After I had to explain the reason why Leavold, the late leader of the School of Black December, had aimed at her instead of me. “You said that all psychics register with them?”

“The vast majority, but not all,” careful to avoid pointing out that I wasn’t registered with the Assembly. I hadn’t talked much about my current standing with him in case they decided that Joshua would be a good person to use for information. After all, I was sure that the Assembly would have come to try and find me once my mother’s plan started going into motion. “They hunt the ones that don’t. If you don’t join, they’ll send something called an Enforcer. They hunt for unregistered psychics. Most of them kill first and ask questions later. Why?”

“...what would constitute being a psychic?” there was a tinge of worry in Joshua’s voice here. I’d never heard it in there before. “Ellie is starting to...talk to things.”

Oh no. “What kinds of things?”

“Mostly plants, but dogs and cats too,” a shift of worry.

“It’s normal for young girls to do things like that. She’s only about six or seven now, isn’t she?” a little old for pretending, but young enough that it could pass off.

“She’s never done it before,” and the unspoken end was that he didn’t want to risk putting her into danger if it was, in fact, a dealing with the very ones that had brought about the end of his wife.

“It’s not likely that she’s a psychic. We don’t usually come up between normals and psychics,” which was true. Genetics had a lot to do with whether a person would end up as a psychic, but we were a dying breed. So recessive that it was ridiculous. “If you’re really worried though, bring her to St. Aveline and ask for a preacher. They’ll be able to tell you.”

It was odd, of course, that I, of all people, would direct someone to St. Aveline. The church incident last year had dealt with a few of the prominent members there, but in all honesty, I felt a little safer sending Joshua to the Church than I felt sending him to the Assembly. As far as I knew, the Assembly didn’t know I existed yet. If I sent him to the Church, they would accept it as an awakening of powers and, even if it meant making Ellie a holy child in name, would provide the protection that I couldn’t offer. The Church and the Assembly were never friendly with each other, but they weren’t prone to touching members of the other. It would keep Joshua and his daughter out of the red, at least, at the price of Ellie being looked upon as a holy child.

But that was all well and good enough when it came down to it. They could provide the protection that nobody like me could, and there was no real danger that anyone would hurt them. I opened the door and felt a blast of cold air hit me in the face harsh enough to almost make me cringe. I’d forgotten that it was cold outside--hard to remember after spending enough time within the warmth of Joshua’s car. Stepping out was much easier after the sudden reminder though.

“Tiry,” there was a moment as I had to send my gaze straight back to Joshua. Again. It was like he was trying to keep me from heading into my house. A dull throb of pain reminded me that I had to go get checked out by the doctor later, pulling my focus away for a moment. “You should probably stay in tomorrow night.”

Huh?

But I had already closed the door and taken those few steps back, and Joshua was quick to start the engine again and drive off into the dark. I didn’t really know what to think about it all. Rather, I was trying to figure out what that final cryptic message that Joshua had left. Don’t go out tomorrow night? Exactly how much did Joshua know?

#Black #black queen #detective #fiction #fantasy #miss tiry queen #modern #original #prose #psychic #queen #sanctos #saphii #saphii sanctos #tiry #tiryon #writing

Black Queen pt. 2

There are two things you should know about me and my sleeping patterns. First is that I am a selectively light sleeper. I can sleep through a thunder storm louder than God-knows-what. If a bomb went off twenty feet away from me and a jet suddenly broke supersonic speeds, I would have slept through it. I would wake up deaf, but I could sleep through it without a problem. Touch me, however, with a feather and lightly tickle me with the tip, and I will snap straight to waking up. I don’t really know why, but at least it keeps me from getting kidnapped or anything.

That being said, when someone touched my shoulder, I jerked straight upright and had stars explode in front of my eyes as my forehead smashed into some poor sap’s face. Allow me to tell someone, it really fucking hurts when you do that. I think I felt worse for the guy whose face I probably just crushed with my skull that was probably harder than a rock. They were probably in a lot more misery than I was.

“Ow! Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!” tears sprung up to the corners of my eyes, and they were the manly tears of pain, not the emotional ones. I took a moment to hiss the pain away and then looked through the hazy vision to see whoever I had just turned into a victim. I could make out shaggy, shoulder length hair that was about as dark as mine and an expression that matched mine.

“What the hell?! Who the hell wakes up like that?!” Luciano, one of my fellow coworkers at Glassini’s, was holding the lower portion of his face with his face contorted in slight agony. “You...aghhhh!”

“Sorry...how long have I been asleep?” the lights were half off, so I assumed...through clean up. Great job I was doing as a waitress on the last shift of the day. Damn it. Luciano pulled his hands away from his face, and I was really relieved that he wasn’t bleeding through the face. I don’t think I would have liked that or anything. His expression was just as annoyingly agitated as ever, though I had to admit that it had gotten a lot less annoying over the past several months. Three guesses why that was--and believe me, it probably didn’t have much to do with a personal effort on his part.

“About ten minutes,” the older man grumbled at me. Luciano was a popular guy, which didn’t entirely surprise me. He was, I suppose, handsome. Tan and dark haired, he was well built for a waiter and he moved with all the grace of a swordsman. I assumed that might have been because he actually fenced and did a few other sports. Even if I didn’t like Luciano for all his jackassery, I wouldn’t deny that he was quite the looker in that tall, dark, and handsome way. His expression remained set in its usual irritated manner whenever it came to dealing with me, but the words that came out of his mouth next didn’t match the face. “You feeling okay? You’ve been falling asleep all over the place.”

“I’m just tired. Busy and all that,” which was no lie. Just probably not as much of the truth as Luciano wanted to know. Lies through omission were, after all, one of my specialties. After all, I had to deal with Steve, and if not for the ability to create misleading truths, I can almost guarantee that I would have been hunted down and then beheaded. Or else, you know, part of the Assembly. Things would have been different, at the very least. Unfortunately, I already knew that it was too late to cling on to things that might have been, so I just tried not to let the thought of things that I wanted get to my head.

Also, rather unfortunately, my excuse didn’t seem to pass by Luciano’s “bullshit reason” meter, and he was giving me a look that was rather mistrusting. Then again, he’s never trusted me, which makes me laugh a little because one, I really can’t be trusted, and two, I’m am physically incapable of lying. The entire situation was a little ironic, truth be told. Regardless, he kept that tight-faced expression of pure irritation on as though it was practiced before clasping my forearms into his hands to help me off the chair I had been graciously asleep on. As much as we tried to be a stick in the mud to each other, we were colleagues with common courtesy. That didn’t make his next words brilliant in selection though. “Look, if you can’t stay awake for a whole shift, you gotta do us all a favor and stay home, dumbass.”

And he lugged me off of my ass and onto my feet with his...surprisingly large amount of strength. I was, however, suddenly jolted straight into the world of the awake, and my world was suddenly...well, it just hurt. A lot. In spite of my desire to cough and wheeze my way back to normal conditions, I managed to keep myself satisfied with the smallest sound I could manage and a quick grimace as pain pummeled me viciously on the right side. If it was any more appropriate for the situation, I would have cried like a wuss. See, there was something I had been trying to keep quiet about the past few months, though given what I had gone through about a two days ago, the situation seemed all the more dire. The important thing to get from all of that? I had two cracked ribs. And they hurt.

“Hfffff...thanks. I’ll lock up,” oops. I didn’t mean for that hissing inhalation of breath to come out. Letting it pass as a “shit I hope he didn’t notice” moment, I straightened myself out and made sure to take really shallow breaths so my ribs wouldn’t make me want to cry again. “You can go home and whatever.”

“Okay, I don’t like you, and I do doubt your intelligence, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you stick around here with all those weird incidents recently,” and I had to do a little internal cringing of the mind and soul there. I knew what he was talking about. The area had, within the last three weeks, been infested with kidnappings, assaults, and murders...all aimed at women that were around my age. You know, young, stupid, and the perfect target for those kinds of things. One of the other servers had almost been raped, but, according to her, someone had come across her and her attacker and they both backed off at the same time. She quit two days later. “I’m locking up. Is your car fixed yet?”

Another internal cringe. No. That damn thing had broken down three times in the past six months. Psychics just aren’t allowed to have nice things without them breaking, I swear.

“I can take care of myself,” which was true. If I could do it at that exact moment was a little bit less true. I doubt anyone can really take care of themselves with a pair of cracked ribs ailing them at any given moment of the day. “Look, we have early shift tomorrow. Just go home. I’ll be fine.”

“And you really are crazy. Or stupid. I’ve yet to figure it out,” Luciano said while rolling his oval shaped eyes. His neatly defined face relaxed into a serious expression that I didn’t often get to see on it when dealing with other coworkers. “I’m giving you a ride to your house, end of question.”

“...you’re annoying as fuck,” I muttered. Right. One more thing you should know about me and sleep. Give me a few minutes after I wake up, and I’ll be grouchier than all hell for about twenty minutes before I get back to normal again...given I don’t fall asleep again.

“Heh, I know.”

---

Turns out, Luciano ended up staying to help lock up. On some not-so-deep level, I was thankful for that because he was able to help out when I suddenly realized that raising my arms above my head actually hurt much, much more than I had wanted it to. It was admittedly painful enough to just about stop me in my tracks when I tried to put one of the boxes back on top of a cabinet. There had been a few gruff words of customary irritation exchanged throughout the course of the work, but somehow I managed to tough through it.

As we stepped outside into the hazy warmth of the late August air, I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck as they always did whenever I was out at three in the morning. Being on edge and paranoid all the time tended to make me nervous about things that other people wouldn’t have thought twice about. The fact that Luciano was hanging around failed to make things any better, though I think that might have been more to do with the fact that I really couldn’t defend myself if anything decided to jump out at me. I took a moment to sigh to myself before taking a few steps out into the parking lot. There was only one car there, and I assumed it was Luciano’s. Now, I don’t speak the language of car, but Steve knew the make and model. The spirit just seemed to think it was unimportant enough to disregard--that might have been because Luciano began talking about something that I didn’t want to think about though.

“You know, some guys keep coming in and asking for you,” Luciano started. I cringed a little bit at the thought. There were a lot of people that could come around asking for me, but there were quite a few that I wanted to avoid in particular. Point in case, Enforcers of the Assembly with their tendency to behead the people they were asking for. With one brow cocked at Luciano, I threw my expression into one of disbelief to make up for the fact that I actually couldn’t say anything that denied knowing about it. My asshole-of-a-colleague sighed and shook his head as though I was an idiot. “Two guys, brothers? One of them came to pick you up around Christmas time last year?”

“Oh...” and another cringe, this time more visible and less inward. I hadn’t seen those two since Christmas, after a short little excursion that Nicholas and I didn’t talk about much. It had resulted in a lot of trauma, and for both of us, a few scars that hadn’t quite healed over. If not for the fact that Faith had used whatever mumbo jumbo faith (excuse the pun, but there is no better word to describe it) powered abilities she claimed to have to fix us up, I doubt that we would have actually recovered. They had come around during Christmas. That had ended badly and awkwardly for everyone--it was just stupid to invite an ex over for the holidays. Especially when the relationship had lasted all of maybe a day and a half. Sometimes I questioned their social skills, but supposed that they had felt bad (again) that I was going to spending Christmas alone. I don’t think they really understood that I spent it alone most of the time, even before the Winterfest fall incident.

But that was something to deal with later. Or never. I didn’t intend on crossing paths with them again.

“Nicholas and Brian, huh? Dunno why they think guessing at my shift is a good idea. You didn’t tell them anything did you?” admittedly, I didn’t want to see them either. It wasn’t just the Christmas incident driving me there. There were some awkward tensions between me and...well, both of the Stone brothers. I didn’t want to get into their relationship, and I wasn’t ready for either of them to be forging (or reforging) one with me. Not to mention a few other things that were on my mind...those were the real problems, but it wasn’t like I could honestly walk up to them and tell them about an entire community that existed in the gaps beneath the one that they knew.

“Didn’t say a word.”

“Good, and I won’t say a word about you and Michelle,” a little widening of the eyes in surprise. “Yeah, I know about you two. You thought Michelle could keep her trap shut? Probably lasted all of two days before I knew.”

“So you’re the ‘one person that she might-have-sort-of-told’,” and that growl of irritation that escaped Luciano’s throat was like music to my ears. I don’t think I have to reiterate that I dislike him, do I? “It just had to be you.”

“I told you, I won’t tell anyone. I keep my promises where I can,” because breaking them was something that my parents did, and I was convinced that I was nothing like them. Luciano and Michelle were apparently recently in a relationship, which had not only lessened the amount of complaints that reached my ears about how the world seemed to lack good men, but had also made Luciano infinitely more tolerable as a human being. It was as if the moment he was happy with someone, he was less interested in making the world suffer with him in his pit of loneliness. I couldn’t say that I was ultimately surprised though--Michelle was the kind of person that men adored I suppose. Small and too helpless to be left alone in the eyes of those that held that testosterone fueled protective streak. As much as I disliked Luciano, I was aware that he wasn’t lacking in the protective department, and he wasn’t actually that bad of a person. “If you hurt her though, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Yeah, yeah,” and with a roll of the eyes Luciano put the last box up onto the cabinet. He gave me a look, and I stared right on back at him. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.”

“For once we agree on something,” and I walked right outside into the warm air of late summer. It was August now, and school was going to start in a month. It was hard to believe that only eight months had passed since my last big fiasco. Harder still to believe that in another two, I was going to be charging headfirst into my next. No. Not a fiasco...just something I had to do. The air filled my lungs, cleaner than I remembered it being when I walked in to do my shift at Glassini’s. I was telling the truth when I said I wanted to get out of that stuffy back room of the restaurant. It was confining, it was hellish, and it was everything that I didn’t really want to deal with the last few months. I didn’t want to be there any more than the next person that worked there. I just didn’t want to go home either.

“I figured I’d find you here,” a cool, rich voice of icy dark tones cut through the air like a tempered blade. I could practically feel my body temperature drop. I knew that voice, and it had been another one that I was avoiding. I hadn’t heard it since an invitation to a party that I didn’t end up showing up to. I turned on my heel to face the owner of the voice and felt a chill roll down my spine when I ended up locking eyes with him. He still had it.

“Joshua,” my voice came out concise. Not welcoming, but not repelling either. Figures as much, doesn’t it? I got away from the two that had been pressing at my mind for all of eight months, and I forgot that Joshua had something that Nicholas didn’t have. The willingness to use cunning and deceit. For all that Nicholas was competent at, Joshua was always a step ahead of him. Always. That was why he was standing in front of me at two in the morning at my workplace instead of Nicholas or Brian. I stared straight into his frozen eyes and tried to keep myself level headed. “Luciano, you can go on without me. I can guess what this is about.”

And I really could. It boiled down to a single sentence that couldn’t leave either of our mouths until after Luciano had given his usual looks of distrust and irritation at being brushed aside as simply as that. It wasn’t until the sound of a car door slamming shut and an engine starting reached my ears that the words came out. Words that I absolutely hated saying and words that I hated hearing. They never lead to anything good, after all.

“We need to talk.”

#Black #black queen #detective #fantasy #fiction #miss tiry queen #modern #original #prose #psychic #queen #sanctos #saphii #saphii sanctos #tiry #tiryon #writing

Black Queen pt. 1

‘This is a bad idea, Tiryon,’ a voice clunked about awkwardly in my head.

‘Of course not, Steve, but I’m not going to back out now,’ my thought shot back at the spirit without giving me a chance to stop pulling a heavy boot over my leg. It was flat-heeled, of course. For what I was about to do, high heels would have been stupid beyond belief. Steve made an odd groaning sound and got about halfway through flashing an image straight into my brain to try and communicate his purpose before stopping and making words again. It wasn’t used to having to legitimately talk to me yet, but I had decided that the mental images were really a little too difficult to understand. Especially after the incident with the Church back in December. An image was enough to break my focus, as we had learned time and time again while I had been training. Though Steve didn’t agree with what I had demanded, the spirit had eventually relented after I pointed out that if I lost my focus in the heat of battle (which seemed to be happening quite a bit as of the past year or two), I could end up dead. When it had tried to protest against that, I simply pointed out that I had almost died at least three times in the past two years. Twice during the Winterfest Fall incident and once with what had happened with the Church.

After that, Steve was a lot more agreeable when it came down to learning how to speak like a human being--at least in my head. It was a fast learner as far as the sounds and vocabulary went, having learned entire dictionaries and textbooks in his own time. It was the method of speaking that got Steve confused. It didn’t quite understand the patterns of human vocal tones, and often gave the wrong message with the words that came out of its metaphorical mouth. There were times where I didn’t quite understand what it wanted me to get. But that didn’t matter at the moment. I was probably going to cut Steve off from my mental channels in a moment anyways--it was going to get in the way if I fucked this up.

“You’re awfully young to be doing this,” Richard, a short and rather pudgey middle aged man looked at me with his glass eye just to creep me out. “You sure you want to get your pretty little self messed up?”

“Whatever. You’ll get your money’s worth,” I replied while pulling a forest green hood over my head. To be honest, at the moment, I was wearing little more than a leotard and a hooded scarf. True, I had a pair of biker gloves and high-heeled boots that slipped up to my thighs, but I felt more like a stripper than anything else. Of course, the outfit was just designed to gain publicity. Everything from the metallic lines traced along the leotard to the purple sun painted across the fabric over my chest was designed by the one that brought me in. Standard procedure, actually. People wanted a show, so they got one.

I stepped through an empty hallway, my heels making thick clicking sounds that reverberated through the emptiness of the halls. What I was about to do wasn’t really my stye or method of choice for, but I was very much aware of a few things that had all but turned my world upside down and then rattled it just to jar me a little more. One of those things was the newly found knowledge that my mother was still alive.

The first time I had walked through the halls I was, at that moment, strolling through, I had the same central thought as I was then. That woman that called herself my mother had to stop being the absolute linchpin to all my problems. Honestly, if not for her, I was convinced that I would have been at home, enjoying the last vestiges of my life before medical school. Summer with the people that I pretended were my friends. Unfortunately, about eight months ago, she left a box of instructions for me, and I was stuck doing...well, exactly what I was doing. Walking down a dark and eerie hallway to a large crowd and someone that was going to suffer by my hand.

It was as though villainy ran through the family.

The hallway ended with an elevator, which dimly lit and cramped, would have made anyone nervous. Unfortunately, it was not my first time in that elevator, and I knew it wasn’t going to be my last. That said, I didn’t feel that little bubbling nervousness that I felt the first time I had stepped into that claustrophobia-inducing room. Rather, it was a fair...relief. I didn’t think much about it, though that might have been because of the drugs. Prescription sedatives that were specially designed for me by one of my...associates, allow me to say. But that’s a story for another time. I had other things to worry about. Sort of.

“And our challenger is a new name in the ring, only five months, and she has so far reigned undefeated! The one and only Violet Verum!”

Ugh. I still had trouble getting used to that dumbass name. It was about then that I started hating whoever it was that sponsored me. Violet Verum? Really? Was that the best that they could come up with? A whole plethora of names that could have been used, and they had to come to Violet Verum? It was shameful, but it was life. The doors to the elevator opened to a cheering crowd, and I stepped forward without a second thought. My opponent was the much larger, much more intimidating “Liberator”. I don’t know who came up with his name, and I don’t really care. All I knew was that if I was the average person, he could easily have kicked my ass across the street without a second thought. Unfortunately for him, I was not the average person. Something that Steve took every free moment to remind me of as I stepped to the middle of the arena, suddenly very much aware that there were cameras focused on me everywhere and countless people staring at a screen and placing their bets.

Someone was going to walk home a very happy person today, considering how high the odds weres tacked against me.

“This is my challenger? A little girl?” the sneering voice was not aided in its graveled tones. I stared at the man with my expression about as unmoved as a statue. I wasn’t realy intimidated, but that was probaby because of the drugs. Again. I couldn’t see much of the man’s face--it was covered with a mask that was far too colorful to be really frightening. “You could give up now, kid. Save yourself a lot of pain.”

“You fail to see that I am not intimidated,” my voice came out lightly laced in icy venom. Enough of it to put the giant in his place, since he actually backed off a step, which I countered with a step forward. See, having minored in psychology my last two years as an undergraduate in college, I was well aware of the effects of intimidation on someone. I didn’t have anything to intimidate most people with. At five foot seven and only one hundred twenty-one pounds, I was far from intimidating. Especially not to a man that was...maybe twice my weight and a foot taller than me. I kept my hazelnut eyes glued harshly onto my soon-to-be opponent. “We will fight, and unfortunately, your pride and body will end up injured.”

The countdown started. The three flashed on the screens around us.

“Nerd talk isn’t exactly the way to start a fight.”

Two came to my eyes.

“I’ll try not to make you hurt too much, kid.”

One.

“Don’t call me kid, bastard.”

Nobody called me “kid” anymore.

#Miss Tiry Queen #Tiry #Queen #Tiryon #Detective #Fiction #Fantasy #Psychic #Prose #Original #Saphii #Saphii Sanctos #Sanctos #Modern #Writing #Cold #Black #Black Queen #Beginning

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIRYYYYYYYYYYYY! <3

^^; Fun fact about Tiry~ She hasn't celebrated her birthday for a loooong time. >_>;

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