throwing-stones replied to your post:[[MOR]hating you is so exhausting. it is the...
Kittie I know we don’t talk very much but I just wanted to let you know you are not shallow for thinking this! You have every right to remove people like that from your life and wishing you didn’t have to see them or getting angry when you do
;; ahhh thanks so much Mickey! I know I did what was best for me, cutting her out of my life. it's just so weird that I still get so mad after so long, even just seeing her name is sometimes enough to set me off. I think I'm just having a bad day too, though, which doesn't help haha.
Purebloods
Example: The Original vampire, Soliloquy
Simply, purebloods are vampires that are born instead of made. They are the rarest and most powerful vampires. It is unknown why or how they are born.
Ancients
Ancient vampires are the oldest vampires known, made over a thousand years ago. They are immortal and alive today, but most sleep and have slept for centuries, and have yet to be seen or awakened.
Elites
Example: Victoria Van Allen
These vampire elites are the strongest vampires active in modern day society, and govern the vampires by use of threats. It is an archaic and primitive system that they believe in and force on others.
Nobles
Example: Anya Carver
Noble vampires are often made directly by elite vampires specifically to carry on their governance past the borders of their city. They usually have many fledglings.
Commoners
Example: Phoenix Santiago
Common vampires are every day vampires, made typically by either nobles or other common vampires.
Dhampirs
Example: Dana Gray
The scum of vampire society, dhampirs are half-vampire, half-human. It is rare that they are even conceived, much less born under the strict conditions necessary for survival of both the dhampir child. They are few and far between. If born into vampire society, they are often outcast or forced into indentured servitude.
ANGEL STARK WAS NOT AN UNREALISTIC WOMAN; she'd never before been in love with any of the many men that offered to buy her dinner and happened to ask her out on a second date. Some guys were even too uncertain to ask her out all-intimidated by her conviction or what Cassy politely described as "her full faith in herself", intimidated by her rank, and intimidated by her accomplishments of being a self-made soldier. But more often than not Angel's many boyfriends, on the surface, could be mistaken as her flightiness, when in reality Angel was just broken up withﾅ a lot. She was bold, bright, and boundless, and in the end, really just too hard to handle.
But in the instant that Leo Rex smiled, she found it was true that even angels fallﾅ and Angel fell hard, harder than she'd ever let herself before: heart-throbbing, knee-wobbling, palm-sweating infatuation and profound fascination took her deep beneath the surface, if only for a brief moment before all common sense came back to her. She flashed Leo her signature smile again, tucking a stray lock of platinum hair behind her ear. "Oh, of course," she replied, amazed at his confidence and enticed by his very presence.
Angel had never before spoken with a Homosapien Rex. She, like most others, had only heard about them in stories and on the news, and had been under the impression everyone else had been under that Rexes and humans could not interact with each other and didn't belong together, were too different from one another to make cooperation between them possible. As she watched the brothers though, she realized then how wrong she'd been all along; they weren't so different after all, and she was startled into grinning at them. For someone intended to be all but, they were surprisinglyﾅ human. She laughed in a way that suggested no one had made her laugh like that in quite a while and for a moment all her thoughts melted away from her.
And then that moment ended, and Angel was left watching in horror alongside Leo and his brother as Thames Astrid kissed Cassiopeia.
Angel was shocked. Cassy had never even mentioned Thames to her and had never before been seen with him in anything other than a professional setting, and suddenly they were together? She was unexpectedly overcome with anger. How dare she? Cassy had been given everything. Her education, her career, her entire future had all been laid out for her. Anything she wanted, she got: her family, her friends, both of the Rex brothers, Thames... because her father was an admiral, because she happened to have a bit of Rex blood running through her. Cassy must have thought that she was better than everybody else, better than Angel, who'd had to work for everything she had. And then realization came upon Angel and she began to understand. That's why Cassy never wanted to talk to her about the boy she'd had a crush on who'd become the man she'd fallen in love with; that's why Cassy wouldn't tell her who she'd kissed that morning: Cassy knew Thames was Angel's ex-boyfriend and wanted to hide it from her. But from the look on her face, she hadn't expected him to show up here, like this.
Angelina swallowed hard, pausing long enough in her thoughts to hear Leo speak. She turned to him once again and happened to catch a glimpse of Scorpio. His expression looked to be as crushed as she felt inside, as if they'd both been betrayed by their best friend... and as she thought that exact thing, she realized she'd been mistaken. She had been wrong all along. It wasn't Leo. It was Scorpio that Cassy had really loved, and it all started to make sense to her.
Angel looked up at Leo and found so much in his eyes alone, which spoke to her even more than he did, and she found herself nodding at him before he'd so much as opened his mouth. As he reached for her though her expression became guarded and her bearing instantly adjusted... it had been only a tiny, imperceptible amendment to her posture, completely unnoticeable if you weren't looking, but it was still there. "But I think your brother should go talk to her-" she began to suggest to him, running out of time to linger at his side. Immediately her gaze softened again and she laid a resolute hand on Leo's shoulder. "I will." Angel promised him. "See you later." She managed a small smile and a short nod as he fell into position before she turned away to find her friend.
***
CASSY FOLLOWED AN UNPAVED PATH back towards the barracks where she stayed, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her pants as her sneakers kicked up clumps of sand that lingered in fine dust clouds around her ankles. You're just a mindless killing machine. I know what a Rex is. She said to herself as she sighed somewhere from deep within herself.
"Cassy, stop."
Cassy did not so much as turn around to look at Thames as he managed to catch up with her. She kept her head down, her orange hair softly sweeping along her cheekbones and jaw line. Her lips were pressed tightly together.
"Cassy, just stop."
"No." she said.
"Okay, don't stop then." Thames replied with a strangled, exasperated sigh. "Just listen to me, then. Just listen to what I have to say to you."
"No!" Cassy snapped, whirling around to face him. He paused mid-step and his eyes widened. "You listen to me! For once, how about you listen to me?! Stop just hearing me talk, Thames, and finally just listen to what I have to say!"
Thames, stunned into silence, gave a small nod. "Okay." He said. "Okay, Cassy. I'm listening."
Cassy glared at Thames, every breath like hauling an enormous weight from her chest. Her jaw was clenched as if she were a wild beast capable of snapping his neck and ripping out his throat with her teeth alone; sadly enough, it wasn't far from the truth. She contemplated her words carefully, preparing herself for speaking the truth, when he interrupted her thoughts:
"Say what you have to say, Cass." Thames prompted as his gaze narrowed. "I don't have all night."
Words escaped her. Her mouth fell open in shock. Everything that Cassy had been thinking and ready to say to him, everything she'd intended to tell him about what it really meant for her to be a Rex, her purpose, and herself, all disappeared. She was appalled. "Excuse me?" she suddenly asked in a harsh whisper. Finally, she shook her head. "Okay, listen to this, then. You think I have the capacity to be remarkable. Well, guess what? Scorpio thinks I am remarkable."
Thames's eyebrows rose in surprise. This was not what he'd expected at all; he knew Cassy had a crush on Scorpio, but he'd assumed she'd forgotten about it. Suddenly defensive, he asked, "What are you saying?"
"And," she began again. "Scorpio has more responsibilities than you can even imagine having. But if I had something to say to him, he'd make time to listen to me. Even if it took all night, even if he had to be somewhere else." She explained. "You want to know what I'm saying? This is it: fuck you, Astrid."
She turned around, shaking her head in disbelief. And this time, Thames did not pursue her.
The night was black. In high school she'd spent many nights with Leo and Scorpio stalking the shadows of the nighttime dark as they sneaked out to cause trouble and make magic. Enough people were scared of the dark but Cassy knew and had seen things more frightening than a moonless night. It wasn't the shadows she was afraid of; it was what lurked among them she knew to be fearful of.
Angel slunk like a thief through the nighttime, a pale phantom in the darkness, as her footsteps traced over the ones Cassy had left behind. It was a night so black that if there'd been even a breath of wind it would have howled an aching song and chilled even the bravest of beasts to the very bone. But Angel was fearless-a lion in the jungle-and listened only to the fallen leaves crunch beneath her feet as she made her way back to the dormitories in which Cassy stayed, when suddenly a voice erupted from the shadows.
"Angel? Is that you?"
Angel's brow furrowed. That voice was familiar to her, from somewhere not so long ago. Leaves and branches of shrubs rustled as a figure attempted to cross from one path to the other. She arched an eyebrow. "Thames?"
"Hey," he grunted, brushing debris from his hair. "What are you doing out here?" he asked.
"None of your business." Angel responded and barely glimpsed Thames rolling his eyes in the darkness. "Better question: What are you doing out here?"
"You haven't changed any," Thames commented.
"Neither have you, from what I can tell." She folded her arms over her chest.
He sighed. "I was just saying goodbye to Cassy." He replied, holding up his open palms defensively.
"Great, I'm on my way to see her." She said.
"Well, you just missed her. She probably doesn't want to talk to you."
Angel frowned and shook her head at him. "No, Thames. It's not me she doesn't want to talk to; it's you." She jabbed him hard in the chest. "Just what the hell were you doing over in the Rex wing today? You didn't need to be there. And you didn't need to embarrass her in front of everyone."
"I wasn't trying to!" Thames argued.
"Yes you were!" she insisted. "You wanted to make everyone think she belonged to you. She isn't an item. And if she were she wouldn't be yours. We both know that."
Thames groaned in frustration. "I know I messed up. Okay? Cassy already chewed me out." He explained. "If you're going to see her, will you please tell her I'm sorry? I don't know what got into me. I don't even know why I did it."
Angel smirked. "Well, you just can't catch a break today, can you?" she sneered. "I know why you did it. You're scared. You're intimidated because she's in love with Scorpio Rex and that drives you crazy. You're so jealous you can't stand it."
"Shut up!" he growled. "That's not true at all. Scorpio and I were buds in high school."
"Doesn't matter. That doesn't change anything." Angel said. "You just want her to yourself. But you can't hold onto someone that doesn't want to be held on to. And you know what? You don't even know her. But you were so determined that you had to try to ruin it between them."
"Don't you think that if they really wanted to be together they would be by now?" Thames asked and Angel scowled. "You know what," he began suddenly. "You're just attacking me because you're mad and jealous that I'm with Cassy now and not you."
"Excuse me?" Angel laughed.
"Yeah," Thames continued. "You're upset because Cassy is a better woman and I broke up with you because you're pushy and self-centered." He shook his head and then added, "And by the way, you're never going to find anyone like me, Ange."
Angel suddenly raised a closed fist and punched him hard in the face. He stumbled backwards and fell flat on his ass cradling his injured cheek in his palm. "That's the point, asshole." She spat and turned, her ponytail swinging behind her.
"Cassy, open up!" Angel demanded as she pounded a fist on the door of her friend's dormitory. "We need to talk!" She paused and impatiently waited a moment for a response. "Open the door now or I will fucking kick it down!"
After a second or two, the door slowly opened. Cassy arched an eyebrow. "What do you want?" she asked.
Angel suddenly shoved Cassy hard. Cassy staggered backward in surprise and for a moment was too stunned to react. "What the hell was that for?!" she finally challenged and found herself shoving Angel back with twice the force.
"For kissing my ex-boyfriend!" Angel shouted and all in a moment the two women were in a no holds barred, knock-down, drag-out fight, throwing punches at each other without even a second thought. They brawled on the floor, their fingers pulling desperately at each others' clothes as they wrestled in some struggle for victory over the other. "What, you think you're better than me?" Angel asked breathlessly as her knees pinned Cassy to the ground and cuffed her hard across the face.
"No!" Cassy answered and grabbed both of Angel's arms in a tight grip. "I never said I was better than you! I didn't know he was your ex! And I definitely didn't want him to kiss me!" Angel finally wriggled her wrists out of Cassy's grasp and hit her again. Cassy grabbed Angel and rolled over her, kneeing her in the side with enough strength to wind her. "You want to know the truth, Angel?" she said. "I love Scorpio! I don't even want to have anything to do with Thames!"
Angel threw Cassy off of her. For a moment she looked as if she was going to stand again and Cassy quickly got to her feet. But instead she just sat up on her hands and knees catching her breath, and Cassy sank to the floor. She didn't want to hurt Angel. She put a hand on her and rubbed her back. "Feel better?" she asked.
"Yeah," Angel replied quietly. She swallowed. The feelings she'd felt no longer mattered. It wasn't necessary anymore for her to prove she was better than Cassiopeia; she was beginning to learn it wasn't true.
"I'm sorry, Ange. If it means anything, I just told him to go fuck himself."
Angel laughed, sitting back on her heels. She pushed her hair back out of her face. "He didn't mention that."
"You saw him?" Cassy asked. "And talked to him?"
"On the way over here, yeah." Angel explained. "He told me I was pushy and self-centered so I punched him and called him an asshole."
Cassy snorted. "Wow, it must suck to be him. And that was it?"
"Yeah," she lied. "That was it. And Leo told me to check up on you too. He's worried about you. How are you doing?"
"You mean how was I doing before my friend attacked me?" Cassy teased playfully.
"Whatever, that's basically what I said."
Cassy shrugged, her smile slipping as she began to recall all of the ugly things Thames had said to her not an hour ago. Then she remembered the expression on Scorpio's face when he'd kissed her and she dropped her face into her hands. "I think I really screwed things up for myself this time." She mumbled through her fingers.
Angel shook her head. "Nah," she said. "You'll be fine. Trust me."
Cassy looked over at her friend, clasping her hands together. "Are you okay?" she raised an eyebrow. "I guess it must have been bad, what happened with you two."
Angel shrugged, but didn't open her mouth to answer, which let her friend know immediately that it was not something up for discussion. So she didn't push.
"Hey," Cassy began suddenly as a thought came into her head. "Are you still seeing that guy from the MP company?"
Angel's eyebrows knit together. "Sweetie, he stopped returning my phone calls a week ago. I'm pretty sure it's over."
"Oh, good." Cassy said.
"Wait, why?" Angel asked.
"Just wondering."
"No," she said. "Not, 'why are you asking?' I meant, why is that good?"
"Oh," Cassy began as she glanced away. "He just wasn't any good for you, that's all." She sighed softly before speaking again. "Who was asking for me today?"
Angel, still red in the cheeks, finally looked over at Cassy. "No one." She answered. "Someone had heard your name from Scorpio or maybe Leo and started asking about you, but that was weeks ago. Maybe a month ago?" she shrugged and averted her glance. "When it finally got around to me I didn't think it was important at the time. So I didn't mention anything to you because I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Why you were so great. Now I think I know."
Cassy glanced up, adjusting the straps of her helmet with one hand, where the plastic buckle had been digging into her chin. It was the most insulting and disrespectful nickname anyone could have addressed her by but she reacted to it by instinct now. It had followed her from elementary school teasing to high school jeers in her direction, and it had stuck. Despite her success and excellence in combat, however, full-blooded human beings still managed to put her down and step on her with that word alone. Hadn’t she been engineered to be a better soldier than them? Why did they still treat her like she was lower than they were?
“What?” she asked. Cassy had been looking at a small photograph in her hand that she’d found inside of an envelope addressed to her best friend in her own handwriting. She’d been fifteen at the time the picture was taken, with her arm around Scorpio’s shoulders and his black GCU cover on her head, her nest of finger hair poking out from beneath it. She’d meant to send it to Scorpio during his training but she’d forgotten and had left it with her things by mistake, until she’d found it again before her deployment and taken it with her. They’d both been so young and happy.
Cassiopeia’s regiment commander knelt before her where she was sitting on the floor flanked by two troops in her company on either side of her. They were two, hulking men with strong jaws and broad shoulders: one with a young, chiseled face and the other older with shadows beneath his eyes and black stubble growing along his square chin. Cassy recognized him and realized he’d had to leave his wife and children at home to work on this mission.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” her commander asked her slowly, as if her duties had been elaborate and difficult to comprehend in spite of her high entrance exam score.
“Yes, sir.” She answered evenly. Cassy was not here to humor him.
“Do you understand what I want you to do?”
Cassy wanted to glance away. She held her commander’s gaze though and lifted her weapon into her arms. She nodded. “Kill everything.”
“Good girl. And?”
“Leave no man behind. Protect my comrades.” She added.
“What else?”
She sighed through her nose. “Don’t die.”
“Exactly.” Cassy’s commander patted her shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”
The aerospace helicopter hummed beneath her and her commander stood carefully to speak with another soldier. The older man beside Cassy shifted all of his bulk and freed a hand to lie on Cassy’s shoulder.
“You’re the same age as my daughter.” He said.
Cassy looked at him. “What’s her name?”
“Stella,” he replied. “She just began her studies in nursing.” His hand fell as well as his eyes. “I would die if I saw her doing what you’re doing. I can only imagine how your father must feel.”
Cassy pursed her lips. “I don’t have a choice. It’s my duty.”
He glanced at her photograph. “Is that your husband?” he asked.
She looked at the photograph too. “No,” she answered. “He’s my best friend. He’s part of a different battalion.”
The man leaned back, going quiet. “I’m sure he is praying for you.”
Finally, a ladder was let down and the commander began barking orders at the company on board. The troops were up and ready to begin filing out when he shouted over the whirling helicopter blades, “The Rex goes first!” He pushed Cassy ahead of the others. Hot wind stung her face and eyes and she quickly covered her head. If unprotected, the heat meant certain death. The commander held Cassy’s arm. She turned to him. “It’s been a privilege commanding you.” He said. “You can take it from here.”
Cassy nodded. “Yes, sir!” she responded, and threw the strap attached to her weapon over her shoulder. She tried to shove her photograph into her pocket but the wind around her seized it and took it up and away. She quickly scaled down the length of the ladder and spotted over a dozen other helicopters around her with troops dropping out. She jumped and rolled over her shoulder on the dirt and sand and then almost immediately went back to her feet.
Gunfire erupted all around her. The dirt streets of the little village had almost been emptied of civilians and now filled with unprepared military forces. They’d launched a surprise attack on the hostile environment, which was laden with weapons of mass destruction. It was rumored that there was as much as a pound of illegal explosives for every gram of body weight of the villagers hidden away in homes and elaborate underground tunnels and it had become their job to get it out in the only way they could.
Cassy’s finger found her trigger and pulled, and with impeccable aim, she didn’t miss. People fell like flies around her as she popped off every bullet in her magazine. Cassy knew she’d been sent to die before everyone else but was now convinced she’d survive yet again, until she took a shot of her own.
She jerked, holding her ribs with a gasp, but didn’t go to her knees. It’d been a sniper and she knew she needed to move out of the area before he had another chance at her. Don’t die: that was the mission. Her breathing was shallow and she wasn’t certain whether or not it was the adrenaline or the bullet wound. Another soldier spotted her injury and moved a group of troops to seek out the sniper while a medic tried to rush to her aid. Cassy waved him away, quickly ducking for cover inside one of the emptied desert homes. Halfway to the open door hanging off its hinges, though, she spotted a child with a gun as tall as he was, coming for her. He was waving wildly, screaming obscenities in a foreign language, and she quickly knelt and aimed. He stopped dead in his tracks and then Cassy realized the boy was staring at something beyond her.
She turned around and found an enemy tank rolling over the sand, picking off her comrades like pepperonis. Cassy quickly glanced back and found the man from her company aiming for the boy. He wasn’t far off from herself, only about ten meters away from her position, but he was out in the open. Before he could react, Cassy put a bullet through the kid’s head and picked up her gun to grab her comrade. She was the only one qualified to take care of her job quickly and efficiently, and she intended to do just that. Suddenly though, a clicking metal can fell between them.
“Grenade!” Cassy shouted, but couldn’t step back in time before it detonated. The explosion sent her sprawling backward, landing flat on her back on the hard packed dirt. She heaved, getting to her knees to vomit. A couple of her ribs were broken and her lung nearly crushed by the force. Her face was burnt but she managed to stand again on her feet. Don’t die. That was the mission. She rushed to the man who was face-down nearby and whimpering.
Cassy rolled him onto his back. His helmet had been blown to pieces and his face was so badly burnt there was as little as no skin at all in some places and she could see the yellow bone beneath all the blood and gore. She tore open the jacket of his Galactic Battle Uniform. His heart was beating but he was struggling to catch his breath. “Stay with me,” she said firmly. The sand blew around her, biting her uncovered hands and leaving red, hot cuts on her skin where blood bubbled out over her white knuckles. It stung her exposed burns and whipped her freed red hair around her cheeks. “Don’t die on me.” She said. “Don’t die on Stella.”
The boy she’d shot laid on his side a couple of meters from them in the sand with blood on him. A scrap of paper was carried from him in the sandstorm and Cassy grabbed it as it tumbled end over end along the flat ground. She looked at it and a much younger Cassiopeia and Scorpio looked back at her. How had she come to this?
Cassy clenched her teeth. She wanted to wail and scream and cry but crushed the photo in her hand.
“Cassy,” the man rasped.
“Yes, sir?”
Cassy?
“Yes?”
Cassy.
***
CASSY JERKED AWAKE, sweat along her hairline and the back of neck. Scorpio?
Thames Astrid knelt beside her, peering into her face with concerned brown eyes. His black GBU cover had been removed and was clutched between his hands, his sun-streaked chocolate hair tousled endearingly. “Cassy? Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you have a fever?”
She blushed deeply. Of course it wasn’t Scorpio. “You didn’t wake me up,” she mumbled, her face pressed into the cotton pillow that smelled of cool, clean linen.
“I’m sorry. I had to get to a briefing at 0600 this morning.” He explained. “I forgot to have a cadet come get you.”
“What time is it?” Cassy asked, pushing orange hair from her face and pulling strands out of her mouth.
“Almost 1100.” He answered. “Quarter ‘til, ma’am.”
She scowled, sitting upright. Since the station had been locked down, her home had been evacuated to be inspected for evidence of Librus’s breaching of base security. Her brothers, Castor and Pollux, had both been transported to an esteemed military boarding school for their next four years of high school, her two best friends had had to answer the call of duty, both of her parents had been working hard with headquarters officers and military personnel to eliminate the threat of Librus, and her education had been otherwise delayed until further notice after she’d been moved into a base dormitory and put into the care of 1st Lieutenant Thames Astrid until the station’s S.T.A.R. teams finished their detailed investigations and declared the area safe again.
Cassy hadn’t seen a familiar face in months; the first week consisted of processing and legal paperwork and adjusting herself to a relatively new environment and lifestyle. She had, however, come to enjoy Thames’s company and, in spite of his constant coming and going while he was on duty, they had found the time to become close friends. She spent most of her time though with Astrid’s OTS cadets that escorted her from one location to the other.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, twisting his cap between his big palms.
“What am I doing today?” Cassy answered, rubbing her bleary eyes and raking her hands through her much-shorter hair so that it looked less like her head had just been assaulted by a tornado. She still wasn’t used to the new crop and picked at her uncombed locks, trying to arrange them into a neater fashion.
“Stop, it looks fine.” Thames said, pushing her bangs out of her face. “Your hair looks great.”
“Well, you need a haircut.” She mentioned. “ You’re out of regs. I don’t know how you’ve gotten away with your hair touching your ears like that.”
He laughed, self-consciously pushing his fingers through it. “Yeah, well,” he began. “I’ve been really busy lately and I haven’t had the time to go get it cut.”
“Busy with what?”
“Busy with you, Miss High Maintenance.” He joked and she hit him playfully, though it was a bit harder than he’d expected and he briefly wondered if he’d actually offended her. “I’m just kidding.” He added. He stood, stretching out his legs, and perched on the edge of her bed instead. “As far as I know, today is a down day. I thought maybe you could come to the exchange with me today and run a couple errands and then go to the park or something and relax?”
“That sounds nice.” She said.
“Okay, good.”
They sat together for a moment in silence, looking at each other as if looking into an open book. Thames glanced away. He’d always admired Cassy, even in high school (she’d been a freshman when he was a senior) and she’d come out to play soccer and rugby with the guys in the mornings before school started. Thames had been friends with Scorpio though—they worked together now; they were in the same company, and if they deployed, they’d deploy together—and Scorpio “talked” about her. He knew Cassy was Scorpio’s girl (anyone who knew Scorpio knew Cassy was Scorpio’s girl) even if they weren’t actually a couple. But Thames still admired her, admired her larger-than-life attitude, her fiery personality, her sense of humor. She wasn’t the perfect woman—maybe she never would be—but she knew that and took all of her flaws and held them close to her. And Thames who spent so much of his time trying to be perfect (because he had never been good enough, so even being enough would be enough for him), loved that about her.
Cassy suddenly propped her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, so close to Thames that she could smell the sweat beneath the collar of his heather-grey skivvies shirt. “Why did you join the military?” she asked straightforwardly, and his eyebrows rose in surprise.
He chuckled nervously, but humorlessly, clearing his throat as he scratched his chin. He was clean-shaven, his cheek bare and exposed, yet he still picked at some ghost of stubble upon his face. He was hesitating to answer, he realized, and quickly began his explanation before Cassy noticed as well. “I’m a dumbass,” he finally said, the words tumbling recklessly from his mouth without any thought. Cassy arched a curious eyebrow that told him that his response had been unsatisfactory. He continued. “I wasn’t good for anything else. I wasn’t good at anything else.” His voice dropped to a murmur as he shrugged uncomfortably. “I was already here anyway.”
“That’s not why.”
He looked up at her and frowned.
Cassy laid a hand on his, ceasing his nervous wringing of his hat, and she took the cap and pulled it back onto his head, tucking stray wisps of hair underneath it. She stopped then and they looked each other in the eye. “Tell me the real reason.” She said and finally let go of his hands. All of the warmth from her touch disappeared from his palms, so he clasped his fingers together. For someone still so young, she already knew so much—about the world and how it worked and the twisted insides of people, and how they’d become such dark and gnarled human beings living behind two faces after seeing war, injustice, death, and murder.
Finally, he said: “Nothing was important to me. I never loved anything.”
Cassy frowned, her pink lips turning downward. Thames, who was still so young, so bright, so kind, couldn’t love? Anything?
Thames was an orphan. His mother, an astrophysicist, and his father, an aerospace engineer, had worked together on engineering a neighboring space station attachment to hold back up supplies during wartime. During their work on the station, however, an engine that kept the base suspended in space and tethered to one orbital path caught fire. It could have been repaired if it’d been noticed sooner, but the fire spread to the stored gasoline, gunpowder, and explosives and the entire station had been lost in the explosion. There had been no survivors.
Thames hadn’t known his parents. He could not dwell, brood, or even reminisce. He’d never seen pictures of them. There’d been no remains and no graves for him to visit. The only thing he had was a tiny memorial in a park garden with their names on it, Phoebus and Europa Astrid, tucked into a list of engraved names of everyone else who had died in the catastrophe. He had been only a baby and all of his living relatives lived on Terra, impossibly far away, and so he was sent to live with a foster family on base that had a son of their own in the military. Soon after his deployment he was killed in combat and his parents mourned his death thereafter, nearly forgetting Thames’s existence entirely. He had been neglected and deprived of the love of a family, which he sought instead in school sports, many high school girlfriends, and lots of weekend partying.
“I felt like the world had stabbed me in the back,” he continued. “I thought my existence was a cruel joke. It was meaningless. Pointless. I had no purpose in life. In fact, my life was so insignificant,” his voice suddenly hardened. “That everyone and everything would have been better off if I just dropped dead.”
Cassy flinched at his words. This wasn’t the Thames she knew.
“But I had nothing to die for.” He explained. “That is why I made my decision.”
“Because you wanted to die?” Cassy ventured forth quietly.
“I wanted something to die for.” Thames said. “My step brother had died in war and everyone missed him. I wanted to be missed when I was gone, too. But it changed me.”
“How?” Cassy asked.
Thames glanced at her. She was looking at him full-on, holding onto him with her blue eyes alone. “It gave my life a purpose.” He said. “It gave my life importance. It changed me. I was taught to defend myself, but first and foremost I was taught to kill.” He looked down. “I know how to kill another human being. I know how to take a life. But I know how to save one, too. And I think,” he paused, glancing at Cassy. “That if you tried, you could learn so much more than you already know.”
Cassy looked at Thames, and he looked back at her. They looked at each other, and for a long time neither of them spoke a word. They were nervous to destroy the silence between them, that silence that they shared. They shared a profound understanding of the cruelty of people and the world, a world where men shot other men on their own land without remorse, when they could be out in the field shooting the enemy.
Finally, Cassy said, “What do you mean?”
“I just mean,” Thames began, leaning closer to her.
I mean, you already know so much, Cassy. You are wise beyond your years. You have so much potential to do remarkable things for our world. And you are worth so much.
“What?”
I think I am falling in love with you.
“What were you saying?”
Thames’s lips barely brushed against hers, as if to kiss her. He touched her face, his fingertips lightly brushing hair behind her ears. Finally, he pressed his mouth against hers, kissing her full on the lips.
***
COLD WATER STREAMED down Cassy’s pink cheeks, sliding off of her round shoulders and running down her back as she stood beneath the shower head, pushing wet hair back from her forehead, and rubbed sweat from her eyes with clenched fists. Inside the locker room, she could hear the door swing open and slam shut again, and she quickly shut the water off. The thump of a sports bag being thrown into a metal locker rang off of the tile floors. Must have been Angel.
“Cassy?” she called. “Are you in here?”
“Yeah,” Cassy responded, wringing water from her hair. “Just got out of the shower.”
“Where have you been?” Angel snapped.
Cassy wrapped a towel around her middle and pushed the plastic curtain aside, stepping out of the shower. “Why?”
“I’ve been looking for you all morning.” She said, unwrapping her hands from yet another hot date with the punching bag in the weight room.
Angelina Stark was an assertive but attractive young woman with what could be politely described as a somewhat overbearing personality that typically intimidated other women, and men, and occasionally small children as well. She’d come from a wealthy Terranian family, but her father’s business empire went to ruin, he became bankrupt, and their fortune was lost. Though she had learned politics and the diplomatic tactics of an ambassador, her personality defects often collided with her duties. She showed interests in military intelligence, novel artillery, and combat engineering. Angel was stunning—a bright and shining star in a sky of dimly glowing planets—but she was also built like a soldier. She had answered to the call of duty to serve on the General Rigel Interstellar Base with hesitance, however, after being sexually assaulted by an officer on post. He had never been discharged or even identified, but she had been transferred to command an all-female company due to her skill and excellence in her field of work.
“Well, I slept in.” Cassy said. “Thames said it’s a down day. You don’t decide whether or not I sleep in, Ange. You’re not my babysitter.”
“And just because Astrid is doesn’t—”
“Thames isn’t my babysitter either, thank you very much.” Cassy interrupted, tugging all of her clothes out of her locker. “What is it you need, again?”
Angel crossed her arms, leaning her weight into the lockers. “Some guy from the Rex platoon wanted me to come find you.” She said.
Cassy’s heart leapt. “Really?” she asked. “Who?”
“I wouldn’t know, people just asked around until it got to me.” She explained. “But I was told that they’re training with first battalion today and some of the other guys from the Orpheus mission detachment.” She paused, frowning at Cassy’s lack of a reaction. “They’re on post today. Should be fun. What do you say?”
Cassy shook her head. “No, thanks,” she replied, pulling her tank top over her head.
Angel stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “I’m sure they’d be happy to see you.” she added. “What’re you so down about, anyway? You seemed fine yesterday.”
“I am fine.” Cassy said as she fastened the buttons on her blue denim shorts.
Angel planted her hands on her hips. “Tell me what is going on right now.”
Cassy cleared her throat and covered her face with her hands. “I kissed a boy,” she admitted, her voice muffled behind her palms. “Or, he kissed me. Whichever one it was.”
Angel didn’t bother feigning surprise for Cassy’s sake. It had been bound to happen sooner or later. “Who? Leo?” she guessed.
“No!” Cassy exclaimed.
Now, Angel was overtaken by a genuine incredulity. Her delicate eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “What? Who was it?”
Cassy huffed, grabbing her shoulder bag and slamming the door of her locker shut. “It isn’t your business!”
Angel’s gaze narrowed. “Well, you don’t have to tell me, but you are going to get your skinny ass out there to see those Rex boys.” She said. “Because it was too damn hard to find you, and frankly, Rex boys are fine, and it would be a downright shame not to.”
“I’m not going.” Cassy argued, shrugging her shoulders unhelpfully. “I just showered, and I already have things to do today. Sorry.”
Unfortunately, “no” was never an acceptable answer for Angel.
***
THERE HAD BEEN A TIME when Homosapien Rex soldiers had been very few and very far between, because there had been only a handful in existence and none were perfected models or even successful. However, engineering of troops as weapons of mass destruction had improved significantly since those times, and now there were mainly Rex soldiers and even—imagine this—half-Rex offspring, serving right there on the base.
When not on a mission, Rexes trained together in a platoon of some of the most physically capable and skilled men available. They were the troops that excelled in all areas of their work at an accelerated rate, and performed above and beyond the rest of their comrades so that their commanders have no choice but to transfer them to a separate platoon to work with the best of the best. Though the percentage of human soldiers was greater than that of Rex soldiers, and there was only about enough Rexes to make up a squad of about ten or twelve men, it was typically referred to as the “Rex platoon” due to their fame in the corps.
Usually, a platoon was commanded by a first lieutenant, but the Rex platoon was a special exception and the platoon leader was a captain, and the battalion commander. In spite of being an all-male platoon, the platoon leader was female, and a Rex herself—one of the first successful Homosapien Rexes other than Admiral Sirius Rex.
Captain Ursa Boötes was a hulking, brute of a woman that took no mercy upon her platoon. She intended to lead the Rexes and their comrades to excellence and had succeeded thus far in doing so. As a Rex, she understood the importance of defining enhanced ability in other soldiers, and though she was not sympathetic, compassionate, or benevolent (Cassy had heard her mother refer to this as a “design flaw”), she was, in fact, rational, systematic, and competent, which made her the ideal soldier for the job.
If Cassiopeia Libra-Rex and Angelina Stark hadn’t already been known by most of the platoon, they would have looked awkward and ridiculous coming around to watch the Rexes train, two prima donnas showing up to a fight club: one in designer jeans and manicured fingernails and the other in short-shorts and flower-print sandals. But it was widely know that, aside from beating you not being enough for Angel, she had to be able to assault you with her words as well, she could also do anything you could, do it better, and do it in heels. As for Cassy, everyone knew who her father was, knew she was of Rex blood, and most of the men were counting down the days until she graduated and joined their platoon with the other Rexes. Unfortunately, Cassy would put you down and make you like it, and loved to make the boys cry.
When the ladies showed up the platoon hadn’t fallen in yet and were standing in groups warming up, socializing, or competing against each other in basic physical training, churning out push ups, sit ups, and pull ups. A group of men were playing smear the queer with a worn out football, tackling each other and throwing the ball into the air. Some were already tearing their shirts off and tossing them down, others in only wife-beaters, and Cassy recognized a lot of the familiar faces flanking over in her direction. Their commander hadn’t arrived yet and a few guys called out greetings, inviting her to join them, but Cassy couldn’t make out one voice from another.
Angel, though, didn’t take a moment of hesitance, tying her hair up into one long platinum ponytail down her back and going to play with the boys. Cassy felt bad for them. They’d try to take it easy on her, but Angel had a mean tackle and didn’t hold anything back.
As much as Cassy wanted to join the fun, she stood back and searched through the abundance of unknown faces, strong jaws, ripping muscles, exposed pecs, and washboard abs for the two familiar men she hadn’t seen yet.
The girl's wails stopped abruptly the moment she heard the stranger’s footsteps, her head snapping down and around to pierce the boy with dilated hazel eyes. His uncertain approach drew forth a memory of why she was walking down this road, alone, in such a vulnerable position, and she steeled herself to act. Unsteadily, she planted her blood stained hands on the ground and pushed herself to her feet, feeling the hunger start to grasp her again, and prepared to pounce. The green and brown in her eyes melted away from pupils, disappearing over the edge of her irises like overfill being exchanged for gold spilled from the Holy Father's mouth; yet it was anything but holy.
But at the sight of the boy’s eyes—so very, very like her own—the girl froze. All at once she could see it, hear it, smell it, feel what he was, and feel he was like her. It was when he spoke to her that the girl lost all resolve and she collapsed to the ground in a frail little heap, legs tucked under her as she cried. Her tears were fat and slow and silent, gold until they dripped from her stricken face onto her lap, and so devoid of any meaning but an intense desire for acceptance. She watched his actions like a prisoner watching her executioner sharpening the blade of his axe, waiting to see if he would finally just end her misery. As he bit into his arm and the smell of his blood hit her, she felt the hunger take hold again and fought the overpowering instinct to jump at his throat, the urge to feed for herself rather than be fed like a child incapable of such a simple act.
By the time his wrist was pressed against her mouth the girl was shivering, her eyes such a bright luminescent gold that they easily could've been mistaken as lanterns. Breathing steadily quickly became taxing for the girl as she let the first taste of the fresh blood hit her tongue, a wave crashing into the back of her skull that pushed her to bleed him dry. And at first she very nearly did, drinking greedily from the wound and grabbing his arm in a bone crushing grip that left two hand prints in his skin, not willing to let this willing prey go. But a small tingle behind her eyes that felt like tears threatening to spill fought back, overcoming the animalistic urge to kill. Without any warning she shoved his arm away and scrambled backwards, staining her white dress green with the grass as she slid across its slick surface. She gulped in lungfuls of air like she hadn't breathed before, scrubbing the red from her lips like it was acid. Through it all she stared him in the eye, her own losing their luminosity to become the hazel of a sad little girl with nowhere to go. In their depths swam a wordless gratitude toward the stranger, for being such an idiot for letting her feed, and being kind enough to give her his blood. So it was only with a slight pause that the girl followed the boy onto his bike, climbing behind him to sit and quietly take hold of his jacket, closing her eyes to just trust.
***
To the girl's senses, the motel room smelled of mold and dead things, like the dust that floated around were fragments of memories the past-stayers had left behind. It was unpleasant, but the last thing the girl wanted to do was complain to the boy who had just saved her life. She was tired, but curiosity had her poking around in things the strange boy had already investigated, trailing a few feet behind him like a stray he had fed that was still trying to decide if he was safe or not. When nothing else caught her eye the girl climbed onto the bed and rested her back against the headboard, crossing her slim legs and bringing them up the her chest to wrap her pale arms around. She stayed like that until the boy came out of the bathroom and held the scissors out to her, breaking her intense concentration from the peeling wall before her.
Without a word she took the scissors and watched as the boy set himself up at the end of the bed, his back to her as he asked her to fix his hair. Now, in the weak light of the motel room, the girl could see just how different it was, and understood immediately why he wanted it changed. What she didn't understand was why he wanted her to do it; she had never cut hair before, asides from the few dolls she had had as a child. And as she recalled, those experiments had turned out... interesting.
Realizing that she was leaving the boy to sit awkwardly in her silence the girl shook herself from her memories and crawled down to dangle her legs off the edge of the bed, settling behind the mess the boy had once probably called a hairdo. Gingerly she took one of the longer locks near his neck and held the open scissors to them, hovering baitedly over the fine strings like a guillotine whose release had yet to be cut. A nervous gulp rippled down her tiny throat as she made the first slice, watching the hair fall to the floor to be lost in the dark color of it. Frowning, the girl set aside the scissors and hopped off the bed, her bare feet slapping the blue tiles of the bathroom floor as she disappeared inside. Seconds later she came back out with a towel in hand and knelt beside the boy, laying the cloth out flat beneath his hair so it would catch it and make cleaning up all the more easier.
Satisfied the girl clambered back to behind the boy and retrieved the scissors, staring at the mop of hair and contemplating her next move. Cutting hair couldn't be that hard, so she hunkered down and set to her task, slender eyebrows drawn together in intense concentration as she raised the scissors and prepared to strike.
Chunks of hair fell to the waiting towel below as the girl set to work, and as slow and deliberate as she was being it was going to take awhile. She really didn't want to screw the nice boy's hair up-well, anymore than he already had. He was depending on her to make it better, and though it such a simple, mundane task, the girl didn't want to disappoint. It took about ten minutes for her to finish with the back of the boys hair, making it a much more tamed mess than what it had been before. She, however, was no stylist, so the cut still left much to be desired, but anyone would agree that it was still a couple steps above what he had had before. Satisfied and afraid of causing any further damage the girl got off the bed once more and moved around to the boy's front, and suddenly became self conscious.
Behind the boy had been safe, but here in front, where he could watch her, the girl became shy. She didn't know this boy at all as anything but her savior and here she was, cutting his hair like she was his sister or something, and their mom would walk in through the door at any moment at start yelling at them. The thought brought the ghost of smile to the girl's lips, but then she remembered who her mom was and the smile slipped away into an expression of quiet melancholy. Soundlessly the girl took a bit of hair between her forefinger and thumb and poised the scissors to cut, shearing the hairs away. It was like a line had been erased.
"...Soliloquy..."
The word was so soft it could have easily of been mistaken as a trick of the mind, but the forming of the word with her mouth told the boy it wasn't.
"M'name..." the girl said again, voice small and sweet as a chime, "it's Soliloquy."
He’d almost thought she was a ghost: Some forsaken spirit suspended between Heaven and Hell for all of Eternity—a phantom that seemed as lost and alone as he felt deep within himself, as he was no longer plagued by the demons of his past; he was the Demon. His soul had been damned to Hell when he’d died, and he was trying to dig his own grave. The girl was nearly naked before him, crafted only of skin and bone and threadbare cloth. His eyes traveled along the length of her exposed curves and then narrowed modestly.
His black motorbike was parked in the grass several yards up the street and the gravel crunched beneath the soles of his boots as he approached the girl. Santiago was a skinny boy with a short crop of black hair that was poorly clipped and groomed; some longer locks curled along the back of his neck while his bangs were chopped unevenly along his forehead. His eyes, however, were predatory…red, like blood, pooling around his dark pupils. He wore a beat-up leather jacket over his shoulders and a guitar was slung across his back on a mesh strap.
“Hey,” Santiago began hesitantly. His eyes lightened, becoming a bright, preternatural blue that seemed to almost glow in the black twilight. He wasn't entirely certain what had made him stop or why, but something inherent drew him to her. He crouched opposite her but did not make any effort to touch her. Suddenly, he began to understand that they were not strangers. They were alike, and he realized he wasn't as alone he believed himself to be. He’d been exiled from his life and abandoned his home; he’d been stripped of everything and left with nothing. He was an outcast—a pariah. A freak, a loser. He didn't belong anywhere or to anyone.
Immediately, Santiago recognized her weakened condition. He swallowed nervously, dropping his gaze. “Here,” he said slowly. He curled his fingers into a fist and raised his hand to his lips, sinking his fangs into his wrist. His blood stained his white teeth red and ran down the length of his forearm and into the creases of his palm. “Drink,” he insisted. She seemed almost helpless and very, very afraid, and Santiago, for some reason unknown to him, did not want to see her die. He carefully held the back of her neck as he pressed the bleeding wound to her mouth. “Come on, drink.” He closed his eyes, inhaling slowly through his nose as his heart raced. He knew he needed to save her above all else, if only to save himself from being alone for all of his immortal life.
Santiago finally abandoned his hold on her, the chill of his touch disappearing from her skin. He pulled away, opening his eyes to peer curiously into her pale face. He felt an inexplicable obligation to her, as well as a newly profound feeling of togetherness. His blood—his very life-force—now coursed through this strange girl’s body and he felt bound to her in such a way, he could not even begin to understand.
The small holes in his arm closed slowly and Santiago stood, offering a hand to help the girl to her feet. “Come with me,” he said, almost pleaded, because he needed her as much as she needed him. He went back to his motorcycle and turned the key in its ignition, and the engine easily roared into life like a lion awakened from a long slumber. He glanced back at her with both sympathy and optimism, as his life was taking a pleasant but unexpected turn. Finally he uttered, beneath his breath, so that not even he could hear: “I’ll take care of you.”
***
Santiago checked himself and his new companion into an old motel in bad repair. The air in the room was dry and smelled of ashes and latex, and the tattered carpet, the teal-blue bathroom tile, and even the sheets were left with stains of questionable origins. The faucet was running as Santiago filled the bathtub with hot bathwater and the door was left hanging open.
He’d dropped his guitar case onto the single queen-sized bed as he rummaged through it. He set aside a spare pair of blue jeans that were neatly folded up into a square. “I’ll buy you some clothes tomorrow,” he assured her. “Until then, you can wear some of mine.” He had almost nothing packed for himself except his change of clothes, his wallet, a pack of cigarettes, a silver knife with the blade tucked into the handle, and, of course, his precious black acoustic guitar with a pearly white pick tucked into the strings along the neck, which he handled more delicately than anything else.
Santiago began to idly fumble through cabinets and drawers, but it didn't seem as if there was much to find. In the bedside table was a King James’ Bible, which he discreetly turned over, and in the bathroom he found an old towel crafted from coarse cream-colored thread, which he set on the toilet seat for the girl, and a pair of sharp scissors. On his way out he paused to examine himself in the dirty bathroom mirror: he needed to shave the stubble growing along his cheek and, whereas he was typically pretty filled-out, he looked unusually skinny, pale, and deathly, his blue eyes sunken into his face. His bangs stubbornly impaired his vision as they fell over his face, but before he could attempt to fix them any at all, he took notice to the nearly overflowing bathtub and quickly shut the faucet off.
After shuffling around uncomfortably in the tiny motel room, Santiago finally approached the girl again, scratching at his chin. “Hey, um,” he began hesitantly, holding out the scissors to her. “… Can you fix my hair?” He seemed very nearly self-conscious about his home-made hack-job, embarrassed at the varying lengths his hair had been trimmed to. He found a chair and took a seat, and, without knowing her name, her origin, or anything about her, trusted her.
