NPLH - Chapter 6 -- Witchblade Karma

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Date Posted: 17:29:35 08/17/03 Sun
Author: moondreamer
Subject: NPLH - Chapter 6
In reply to: moondreamer 's message, "No Place Like Home - PG-13" on 09:16:08 05/12/03 Mon

Many thanks for everyone's kind words during the last month.

Same old disclaimer.

Finally the excruciatingly long dinner hour was almost over. It had seemed like an eternity for Ian. As he watched the minute dust particles dance lazily in the shafts of late afternoon light Ian idly wondered why it was that something so un-enjoyable seemed to last forever and why the few things in his life he found pleasurable seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye.

It didn�t matter if he was reading, working out or spending time with the wolfhounds, the time always passed by far too quickly for his tastes. He made a mental note to stop by the library and pick up some books on quantum physics and the mechanics of time. Or perhaps he should look in the philosophy section. Surely this was a question of the ages?

He would also ask his father about this. If the barrier of physical time had slowed for his father, if he didn�t age or experience life in the same manner as did other humans, did this mean that everything in his life was un-enjoyable?

Or had he somehow, by benefit of his wearing of The Witchblade � however briefly, found a way around the mystery of time passing? Could there be a way to combine the sensation of time dragging with the more pleasurable aspects of life? If so, then Ian knew he must discover this himself.

Ian steepled his fingers in front of him, an unconscious mimicry of his father. He had finished eating his unappetizing meal much earlier but had used the remaining time to observe the other students. Even while his thoughts seemed to drift another part of his brain had been busy at work, listening, observing, cataloging and mentally sorting through the latest barrage of input regarding his fellow students.

Already Ian had identified the 4 major cliques in the school along with the hanger-ons of each. He knew with a glance who were the bed-wetters, who cried at night, who were secret lovers and those who delighted with the torment of all the aforementioned. It really was a pity he had been raised with such a knightly code of honor. Ian could have made his fortune as a blackmailer.

Ian also knew that during the dinner hour he had also been under observation. Knew that the brief confrontation between him and Ivy had been retold so many times it was now stretched and not even close to being factual. It was always the same. No matter how different each school tried to be, they and their inhabitants were always the same.

The familiar sense of isolation was here also. At times, Ian felt as if he watched the world through a wall of glass. A wall so high and so thick that no matter how hard he tried there was no way to break through it. No way to connect with those around him. Sometimes he imagined he couldn�t even hear what was happening in the world around him through the barrier, at other times he could hear the sounds from a mile away.

His Father had assured him that this was just a side effect of his genetic enhancements. That as he grew, the strange sensation of wanting to jump out of his own skin would pass. Dr. Immo had just smiled and told him it was something called puberty, and that his enemy, time, would fix it all.

Against his father�s wishes Ian left off the gloves when he was away at school. A small rebellion. An acting out of his anger at his father and perhaps, an expression of a hidden desire to fit in. Even without the soft, leather barrier Ian found himself still feeling cut-off from the rest of the world, still isolated. It was only at the Estate that Ian truly felt comfortable and at peace with world around him.

A sudden surge of bitterness welled up inside Ian�s throat. He forced himself to swallow, to try to shove the feeling back down inside. What was it he had done that had warranted this banishment? If only he knew! He could then try to fix it, try to erase or eliminate his mistake. Whatever his failing had been could it really have so horrible? He was, after all, only nine years old.

He had excelled at his lessons, thrown himself whole-heartedly into his physical and weapon training. He had obeyed his father without question in all things. His only sin had been to believe in the destiny his father had presented to him. To believe and to live it, with each and every breath he took.

And none of it had mattered. He continued to be cast out, thrust here into this petty world with its petty concerns and petty tyrants. Unlike the knight in training that he was, like the smallest and most childish of the other students, Ian just wanted to go home. Yet, perhaps, there was a larger purpose at work here. Maybe this was another one of his training exercises. Albeit one that lasted longer and was much more painful than any of his others. He would have to consider this further.

For all his inner turmoil, Ian had been trained well. To those who covertly watched him, sneaking a glance under the guise of taking a drink, or dropping their napkin on the floor, Ian looked almost bored. A fact that was noted by a few of the youths at Ivy�s dinner table.

�Doesn�t look like he�s too upset, does it?� The speaker, a rail thin boy called, rather predictably, Slats, sniffed and wiped his sleeve across his nose as he spoke.

�Too right. I don�t think he quite understood what Ivy was trying to get across to him.� This boy was rounder, pudgier in the cheeks with a cupid�s-bow mouth that made him the butt of many an adolescent joke.

Slats just laughed and wiped his running nose once again, it was hard to tell if the stripes on his shirt were an intentional pattern in the material or simply dried body fluids. �That�s all right. Ivy will set him straight, won�t you Ivy?� He grinned his challenge down the table to the end where Ivy sat glowering, unwilling to answer.

Ivy had spent most of his dinner hour brooding over his failure to intimidate Ian. Somehow, in every encounter he had with the little snot Ivy always felt somehow diminished. It didn�t seem to matter what he tried. He just couldn�t force Ian to acknowledge Ivy�s innate superiority.

If only Ian would give in, just once. Then, pride restored, Ivy could drop the harassment. If the truth were to be told, deep down, Ivy was almost�afraid of young Ian Nottingham. Afraid that Ian would be proved right and everyone would see that it was Ian who was the superior being. Not Ivy.

It was this fear that continued to drive Ivy. He had to force Ian to publicly accept his dominance or face the loss of his position with the pack of sharks in which he tried to swim. With no unsuspecting swimmer for them to sharpen their teeth on, they often turned on one of their own, seeking the weak and infirm.

�Don�t you worry about that, Slats. I�ll handle Noble. You�ll see.� Ivy grinned cheekily at his companions as he pushed his chair away from the table. Hoping they didn�t sense the underlying lack of confidence evident in his hollow words.

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MORE MORE MORE MORE...err...you get the point *grin* =) (NT) -- Spin (still begging for ...MORE), 01:42:00 08/21/03 Thu