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Date Posted: 19:34:08 01/15/06 Sun
Author: Evelance (Darlith)
Subject: No one mourns the Wicked!
In reply to: Nerilki(Avianyth) Fair of Four 's message, "Okay, so apparently I'm Elphaba..." on 20:48:29 01/01/06 Sun

No one cries, “They won’t return!”

Babe, why did you drag me out of my peaceful solitude for this? The words were unspoken, but anybody who happened to pass Lance at that moment would probably know she was thinking along those lines by her dark expression alone. The soft, white skin was flawless, but the soft lips were brought into the comfortable position that people use when no one is looking, giving her a look of dark longing. Her glacier eyes were also an indicator that she was more than simply lovely, for they were very intelligent, if cold. Lance’s body moved in gentle curves, perfectly formed and gracefully used, but no man would think of lying a hand on her if hey knew this woman. Silky, mysterious raven hair flowed angelically to the small of her back. Now that she was eighteen, her height was finally constant; pretty tall for a girl. However, while she had the looks of an angel… it was definitely a fallen angel she resembled most.

You needed the air, lovely. A masculine version of Lance’s voice answered, proving, as her shoulder-knots did, that she rode a blue. Even as she was annoyed, Lance couldn’t help but grin sardonically at the sound of her beloved’s voice. Darlith was the only boy in her life after she left her original weyrmate, a well-known man named K’mir, and was the only boy she allowed to compliment her in such a way. Any human call her lovely, especially before she knew him, and they’d probably be kneed in unpleasant spots.

Okay… here’s my air. Can I come back to our weyr now? Lance hated human contact more than anything else. No one ever talked to her, anyway, with her being what the people of Old Earth would call a Goth—not that she knew there was a word for it aside from freak. She heard Darlith give a mental rumble of a laugh before replying.

Well, you’re hungry, are you not? Stay and eat a bit, then come back. I promise I won’t bother you anymore if you do. He as well as anyone else near the woman could hear her give an aggravated sigh. She glared up at no one in particular, but rolled her eyes, and sighed in defeat.

Fine, have it your way… but I won’t enjoy this. Lance wasn’t normally one to give in to her dragon’s pressure, but he’d been asking the same thing of her for months now, and figured that he wouldn’t stop until she made him. Darlith smiled, and Lance felt his pleasure in the back of her mind, but she pushed it away as she made a beeline towards the food. She half-heartedly poured herself a bowl of the thick stew made specifically for the Feast, and tossed a few rolls into the bowl—after all, she’d just dip them in it before eating them anyway. Looking around, she took a small bit of spiced wherrie left over, and took a warm cup of klah from a passing drudge, who at first thought to scold her but seemed to think better of it.

Taking her food to the back of the room, Lance’s icy gaze scanned the room. There weren’t many seats lefty that weren’t at a table with a lively discussion, and this annoyed her; finally, after searching for a moment, she decided the most private seat was located in the back of the room, where there were a few people but no big debates. Sighing, she walked over to the table, and set herself down away from the drunks, closer to a girl with the shoulder knots of a greenrider; not across from her, but at the seat to the right of it. Greenriders always made Lance feel edgy… especially the females. No offense to them, either; the fact was, while she hated men for what they’d done for her, she felt an even stronger connection with girls since she was little, though of course her parents wouldn’t hear of it. When she was thirteen and first tossed around the idea of being homosexual, her father had beaten her hard, pounding the idea into her head that women were meant for men, and that homosexuality in men was completely different. After that, she’d broken up with her secret girlfriend and left the Hold, roaming for a Weyr, tying to convince herself that she was straight.

Just the same, she wouldn’t look at Nerilki for a long time. However, despite her great efforts, she was bored, and Darlith wouldn’t let her come back home yet. She looked up at the greenrider, and was startled to hear her own voice.

“Hey. Lance, of blue Darlith… you ride a green, correct?” she nodded towards the girl’s ranking shoulder knots. While the conversation was innocent enough, her voice still held an almost monotone malice that made her seem sarcastic or the like; that’s how her voice naturally was. Lance just naturally scared people… and enjoyed it.

No one lays a lily on their grave…

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