Cha laid down into the curve of his arms, feeling the faint breeze of his breath against her face - eyes shut, the memory still burning between her legs. She opened her eyes again when she felt his warm hand brushing against her waist.
She liked this room - the warm glow of colors that were muted by the darkness, and the tapping of the rain which had started to fall hard on the large window. Not often they had the chance to be together like this, little islands of stillness in hasty times. They were the only moments that made sense to her, that she didn't feel slow or clumsy. The only moments that mattered.
She nestled herself close against him, feeling his warmth.
It was the last day.
"I have to go work again tomorrow", she said slowly.
"You always were edgy and bursting, ready to go for a chase, eager for life. And now... what is happening?"
Staring at the ceiling, she said: "I run missions. I mine. And then mrs Read asks how i'm doing, and i say "fine"." Life is strangled with polite lies.
"You will be able to fly decent ships soon," he smiled, "be patient. That wormhole space doesn't go anywhere."
She rolled on her side, looking into his deep pensive brown eyes, and brushed his hair lovingly from his forehead. "It's not about the bigger ships," she said. "It's about the adrenalin."
He didn't answer immediately, words tumbling in his head as usual, settling mostly in shades and seldom in tenderness, and even then they were like thorny roses. She still was learning not to get all panicky about that. There was just too much happening in his head. He was of an intensity that lured her like a moth towards a flame - she just hoped he wouldn't burn her wings eventually.
She traced his jawline with a finger.
"There is a name", he said. "in Evati. Maybe she has what you want." His eyes warmed her soul, making her tingly all over.
He rolled to the side and grabbed a pen from the sidetable, writing something on the napkin he took from the plate. She watched him move, and how she loved his moves. Desire rushed through her veins. He groaned as she ran her fingers over his side, straight to where she wanted to be, and turned to push her on her back again. She completely forgot what she had wanted to say when his mouth and fingers started doing very distracting things.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
Dissimilarities
Cha generally was a mild mannered woman. Never said a bad word in the local channel, usually. Kept her contributions to meetings with Meanies to shaking her head in disapproval when another rupture would disappear from around her pod. That, and nodging the evildoer's status down to -10, but that was performed really without ever having any substantial hope for getting due revenge, at least not in the near future.
But that day, something snapped. That day, the meanie had said of her rupture, just like that, as if his remark was as innocent as a butterfly drying its bedewed wings on a sunny spring morning: "they all look the same anyway".
She had become almost tearful as she heard this, but she managed to regain her composure the next moment, bristled with resentment at the barbarian's judgment. Because the casualty was not just any casualty, that rupture not just any rupture. It was her rupture. It was special. And so, she felt she had to do something to emphasize the uniqueness of her ship.
The day to paint had come.
Her immediate first thought was: red. It's a bloody colour, and bloodthirsty she felt; it was also passionate, and passionate she deemed herself as well; and quite hellish too. But Stillwater was a civilized corp, and all about quiet civilized industrious working, albeit intertwined with some civilized drugs smuggling and some whitecollar crimes here and there, and thus she felt she had to suppress this more devilish side of her. No red.
Other colors passed the review. Orange (good camouflage near the sun, but some suns weren't orange, hence some to be foreseen sillyness next to a greenish sun), yellow (but a rupture definitely wasn't supposed to look like a gallente banana shuttle), green (but that reminded her of a very jealous boyfriend who never would walk his talk anyway - dont ask -), blue (but she simply didn't like blue) and purple (and who on earth would paint a rupture purple?). No, all in all it was quite obvious. The only sensible color was pink.
She had dwelled a bit longer on coming up with the exact hue. No baby pink, that was certain. Crimson, or would that already be too red? Palevioletred maybe then? Or mediumvioletred. No - hotpink. Or hmm deeppink, or rather darkmagenta, if not lavenderish orchid. Or thistle plum violet. And what about fuchsia? Definitely not mediumorchid. Plain dusty rose or rather very light dusty rose? Marshmallow rose? And there were so much pinks between pinkish vinaceous and pinkish white...
And then Cha thought of poison pink. It was the only pink that was exactly right. It was a fierce kind of pink. Pink-with-balls, as it were.
If she had presumed the hardest part now laid behind her, she really had to come around and think again. If you want the unquestioned and tragic facts which reinforce this blunt statement: noone was selling poison pink paint.
There wasn't even a paint category in the market browser. Well, there was the target painting stuff, but that wasn't quite the same.
She roamed the corp hangar. No paint.
She asked Eran. His big black eyes seemed to be taking her in detail by detail, and she withered slightly under his scrutiny. He stared at her for more than a minute, and then erupted in a loud rolling laughter. "You're not getting any of my cocktails anymore, Cha," he snickered, "I didnt know they actually cause brain damage", and she hadn't insisted any further.
When she inquired with Pau, image and sound fell away somehow. It came back after a while, and Pau looked almost mediumvioletred. He stayed polite, although the corners of his mouth seemed to twich somewhat. No, there was a lot he sold under the counter, but poison pink paint wasn't among it.
Agustus couldn't withold from making a tutting noise to indicate his lack of approval, using up his entire vocabulary for the year. She shrugged. He probably didnt like pink.
She caught Jasuur and Camp at a "tavern" (Camp's words), and the entire setting of the entire bar looked real hotpink, with all them pinkishly scarcely dressed ladies at the poles - and so were their cocktails, of which they clearly already had too many. Soon Camp was expanding on the many excellences of painted ships, although she wasn't sure if he was quite serious about it, hearing how he once had seen a giant pink titan over at the wildlands after some more than moderate alcohol intake. Jas was wiping his tears when he said: "Cha, you could have excitement, adventure, slaver puppies, fine wine, great sex, friendship, ice cream and waffles, battlecruisers and love – you could have it all, and instead you choose to pursue… pink paint?".
Ahh, men, they would never understand what was really important in life. She turned to the women.
Casiella seemed to understand the need for decoration somewhat. Then again, Cas understood everyone's need, as long as she was paid for it. She actually dived into her extensive blueprint collection, but the closest she could come up with were nanotattoos, and the succes of those depends on emotions, like we all know. Now, it is true that Cha believed everyone of her ships simply went emo when they considered Cha's ideas of warfare inappropriate for the circumstances, seeing how they all had prolonged the execution of some of Cha's more adventurous commands until it was too late already. And once the ship had turned emo, Cha knew the ending of both of their existence was imminent; sending her into a pod and itself into oblivion.
If only she could find a non-emo ship.
Cha sighed. She knew nanotattoos on ships wouldnt exactly work like they should. And it would be a real big tattoo too, if any.
Ember waxed so eloquently over the many pink tints of roses she had seen once on an Amarr planet in a faraway solar system with an unpronouncable name that it left Cha baffled on how sometimes some women couldn't get to the point when it came to important matters.
Niki had the grace to look only slightly abashed. She was all amiability and smiles when she referred Cha a name. It was not a paint maker like Cha had hoped though - she suggested a mix of fuzzy healings, wuzzy prayers and a lot of medication.
After ninety seconds of eternity, Mrs Read had let out a long sigh and allowed herself a smile when she said "Cha, lay off the wine."
Cha tried drawing up a public contract, but the database refused to accept her entry, claiming that ship paint didn't exist. Nonsense. The gallente had yellow ships, then why couldn't she have a pink one?
Science has made bewildering strides in many directions during recent ages, but pink ship paint seems to belong to the domain of miracle rather than to scientific achievement.
Somewhere, somehow, there must be someone out there that can produce 780 litres of poison pink paint for spaceships. If you hear of someone that does, please contact Chacacha, being quite nomadic out there while still performing exhaustive paint investigations, but sporadically residing in Gerek.
But that day, something snapped. That day, the meanie had said of her rupture, just like that, as if his remark was as innocent as a butterfly drying its bedewed wings on a sunny spring morning: "they all look the same anyway".
She had become almost tearful as she heard this, but she managed to regain her composure the next moment, bristled with resentment at the barbarian's judgment. Because the casualty was not just any casualty, that rupture not just any rupture. It was her rupture. It was special. And so, she felt she had to do something to emphasize the uniqueness of her ship.
The day to paint had come.
Her immediate first thought was: red. It's a bloody colour, and bloodthirsty she felt; it was also passionate, and passionate she deemed herself as well; and quite hellish too. But Stillwater was a civilized corp, and all about quiet civilized industrious working, albeit intertwined with some civilized drugs smuggling and some whitecollar crimes here and there, and thus she felt she had to suppress this more devilish side of her. No red.
Other colors passed the review. Orange (good camouflage near the sun, but some suns weren't orange, hence some to be foreseen sillyness next to a greenish sun), yellow (but a rupture definitely wasn't supposed to look like a gallente banana shuttle), green (but that reminded her of a very jealous boyfriend who never would walk his talk anyway - dont ask -), blue (but she simply didn't like blue) and purple (and who on earth would paint a rupture purple?). No, all in all it was quite obvious. The only sensible color was pink.
She had dwelled a bit longer on coming up with the exact hue. No baby pink, that was certain. Crimson, or would that already be too red? Palevioletred maybe then? Or mediumvioletred. No - hotpink. Or hmm deeppink, or rather darkmagenta, if not lavenderish orchid. Or thistle plum violet. And what about fuchsia? Definitely not mediumorchid. Plain dusty rose or rather very light dusty rose? Marshmallow rose? And there were so much pinks between pinkish vinaceous and pinkish white...
And then Cha thought of poison pink. It was the only pink that was exactly right. It was a fierce kind of pink. Pink-with-balls, as it were.
If she had presumed the hardest part now laid behind her, she really had to come around and think again. If you want the unquestioned and tragic facts which reinforce this blunt statement: noone was selling poison pink paint.
There wasn't even a paint category in the market browser. Well, there was the target painting stuff, but that wasn't quite the same.
She roamed the corp hangar. No paint.
She asked Eran. His big black eyes seemed to be taking her in detail by detail, and she withered slightly under his scrutiny. He stared at her for more than a minute, and then erupted in a loud rolling laughter. "You're not getting any of my cocktails anymore, Cha," he snickered, "I didnt know they actually cause brain damage", and she hadn't insisted any further.
When she inquired with Pau, image and sound fell away somehow. It came back after a while, and Pau looked almost mediumvioletred. He stayed polite, although the corners of his mouth seemed to twich somewhat. No, there was a lot he sold under the counter, but poison pink paint wasn't among it.
Agustus couldn't withold from making a tutting noise to indicate his lack of approval, using up his entire vocabulary for the year. She shrugged. He probably didnt like pink.
She caught Jasuur and Camp at a "tavern" (Camp's words), and the entire setting of the entire bar looked real hotpink, with all them pinkishly scarcely dressed ladies at the poles - and so were their cocktails, of which they clearly already had too many. Soon Camp was expanding on the many excellences of painted ships, although she wasn't sure if he was quite serious about it, hearing how he once had seen a giant pink titan over at the wildlands after some more than moderate alcohol intake. Jas was wiping his tears when he said: "Cha, you could have excitement, adventure, slaver puppies, fine wine, great sex, friendship, ice cream and waffles, battlecruisers and love – you could have it all, and instead you choose to pursue… pink paint?".
Ahh, men, they would never understand what was really important in life. She turned to the women.
Casiella seemed to understand the need for decoration somewhat. Then again, Cas understood everyone's need, as long as she was paid for it. She actually dived into her extensive blueprint collection, but the closest she could come up with were nanotattoos, and the succes of those depends on emotions, like we all know. Now, it is true that Cha believed everyone of her ships simply went emo when they considered Cha's ideas of warfare inappropriate for the circumstances, seeing how they all had prolonged the execution of some of Cha's more adventurous commands until it was too late already. And once the ship had turned emo, Cha knew the ending of both of their existence was imminent; sending her into a pod and itself into oblivion.
If only she could find a non-emo ship.
Cha sighed. She knew nanotattoos on ships wouldnt exactly work like they should. And it would be a real big tattoo too, if any.
Ember waxed so eloquently over the many pink tints of roses she had seen once on an Amarr planet in a faraway solar system with an unpronouncable name that it left Cha baffled on how sometimes some women couldn't get to the point when it came to important matters.
Niki had the grace to look only slightly abashed. She was all amiability and smiles when she referred Cha a name. It was not a paint maker like Cha had hoped though - she suggested a mix of fuzzy healings, wuzzy prayers and a lot of medication.
After ninety seconds of eternity, Mrs Read had let out a long sigh and allowed herself a smile when she said "Cha, lay off the wine."
Cha tried drawing up a public contract, but the database refused to accept her entry, claiming that ship paint didn't exist. Nonsense. The gallente had yellow ships, then why couldn't she have a pink one?
Science has made bewildering strides in many directions during recent ages, but pink ship paint seems to belong to the domain of miracle rather than to scientific achievement.
Somewhere, somehow, there must be someone out there that can produce 780 litres of poison pink paint for spaceships. If you hear of someone that does, please contact Chacacha, being quite nomadic out there while still performing exhaustive paint investigations, but sporadically residing in Gerek.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Air castles
"Boredom is rage spread thin," said Cha out loud to the ship, but the ship wasn't in the mood for philosophy. Nor was Cha, actually. In fact, she was seriously doubting what she was doing there, working stupid mining jobs just to pay off her debts. "Oh lord," she rolled her eyes, "wont you give me something to kill". A silly little melody started forming in her head.
oh lord wont you buy me a sweet hurricane
my friends all fly drakes so i must make amends
worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends
so oh lord wont you buy me a sweet hurricane
oh lord wont you buy me a jag or a hound
jumping out of stargates, a devilette-in-a-box
("surpriiiiiiise!")
blast away them shippers coz i think that rocks
so oh lord wont you buy me a jag or a hound
oh lord wont you buy me a fully fitted claw
blow up, steal and ransom, without any remorse
make a mountain of isk just by using blind force
so oh lord wont you buy me a fully fitted claw
(inspired by this)
oh lord wont you buy me a sweet hurricane
my friends all fly drakes so i must make amends
worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends
so oh lord wont you buy me a sweet hurricane
oh lord wont you buy me a jag or a hound
jumping out of stargates, a devilette-in-a-box
("surpriiiiiiise!")
blast away them shippers coz i think that rocks
so oh lord wont you buy me a jag or a hound
oh lord wont you buy me a fully fitted claw
blow up, steal and ransom, without any remorse
make a mountain of isk just by using blind force
so oh lord wont you buy me a fully fitted claw
(inspired by this)
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Casualties
The impact of the missile took almost half her shield out in one leisurely hit.
Cha startled out of her dozing salvaging. She had been totally oblivious of the clearly once more proven to be dangerous universe around her.
Before it dimly started dawning on her what was happening, the ship already was fraught with recurring alarms. "'I wasn't asleep," she said in a hoarse, feeble voice, apologizing to the ship, but it ignored her and spit out the battle data.
She cringed. Gah! An Angel! They were everywhere, as if they owned the damned place. And not just any Angel - good heavens - a battleship! She had never seen battleships roaming this part of the solar system; there simply wasnt any fun to be had here for battleships. Just small bait and relatively worthless stuff, like Cha in her rupture. Hmmm. Not that she was worthless - in fact Cha valued her own life pretty much, thank you.
"Go away!" she yelled into the communication channel.
It stayed silent for a while, and then she heard him laugh loudly.
"Oh, come on, it was just a little missile" he chuckled, and immediately another little missile took the other half of her shield out. Cha did not at all like the casual tone of this remark, and thought it would be as well to introduce some other subject of conversation.
"What in heaven's name are you doing here? This part of the universe is for the little people!"
"You sound real cute when you're angry, you know", the voice came back, unperturbed. Cha found him decidedly uncivil.
The targetlock alarm started bleeping again. "Dont you know your people know my people!", she insisted, "we are supposed to be working together!" but the lock stayed on. She braced for the impact, but the blow didn't come.
"What does he think he is doing", she mumbled, and frantically started giving defense commands. She wouldnt go without any slashing back, no sir!, even if it would only scrape his surface. She would get close to him and do her utmost best to be at least annoying. She locked him and turned the ship, pushing the microwarpdrive to its limits.
"You're in trouble now!", she warned him, praying the capacitor would hold.
He answered with a rattling salvo, but to her great delight it was miles off. "Awww," he said, "i missed you."
The missile she sent to him as a reply fluttered off in space, hitting nothing but stardust. "Splendid!", she sighed displeased.
"Come on babe," he said, "let me take your shiny shields down, and then that sexy armor, so i can reach your sweet little hull."
She was genuinely shocked. "That's not at all a proper way of expressing yourself," she answered with some severity, "it's very rude even."
A strain of unbridled laserbeams broke out from his ship, eating her armor away in a really alarming fashion. Truely exasperating behavior.
"You really expect me to roll over and play dead?", she hissed haughtily. He bursted in laughter. "No," he said, "that wasn't exactly what i had in mind. At least not the dead part."
Well, at least he wouldn't pod her. She came to her senses. It didn't matter much which way she put it: no way she would be able to hurt him before she would be hurt a lot worse. She could still try warping out. Probably the only sensible thing to do, since it looked like he was toying with her, that impetuous sadist. He would slowly, teasingly, mockingly take her hull and then wham, there would Cha go.
She resolutely gave the warp command. The crippled rupture gave all it could, but she didnt get anywhere. On the contrary - he was reeling her in, like a fish on a hook.
"Doooon't! C'mon! C'mon!", she yelled again, "i'm trying to get some space between us here!"
He basked in amusement: "It must be fatal attraction."
Hmm. She noticed the numbers. Within autocannon reach. She acted quickly. The sputtering rupture shook around and her four autocannons blasted right into his shield.
"Nice thinking," he sounded appreciative. She checked the damage stats. Dang! He barely had a scratch.
The rupture shook again and Cha felt queasy for a moment. His guns had cut through her armor like a knife through butter, setting off a multitude of other alarms.
"Still alive, baby?" he actually sounded a little worried.
"That hurt," she gasped, and then, "You'd better not do that again!"
She calculated. His turrets wouldnt be able to find her fast enough if she now moved into orbit. Ha!
She gave it all she had, and saw with great satisfaction how his shield finally started to show some red. It was uncannily slow, but he couldn't hit her.
His voice sounded unscathed and unshaken. "Come on," he said, "at this rate you will never have enough ammo before you have to give up anyway." She generally gave herself very good advice, though she very seldom followed it, but yes, she might get out of ammo and patience. True that.
"And you know i can push the button any time i like", he added soothingly. She sighed. That, she knew all too well.
"Okay," she gave in. "What do you want?"
"Sweety," she said much later, stretching lazily right before she fell asleep in his arms that she knew so well, "i wish you wouldn't keep vanishing and appearing that way. You make one quite giddy."
Cha startled out of her dozing salvaging. She had been totally oblivious of the clearly once more proven to be dangerous universe around her.
Before it dimly started dawning on her what was happening, the ship already was fraught with recurring alarms. "'I wasn't asleep," she said in a hoarse, feeble voice, apologizing to the ship, but it ignored her and spit out the battle data.
She cringed. Gah! An Angel! They were everywhere, as if they owned the damned place. And not just any Angel - good heavens - a battleship! She had never seen battleships roaming this part of the solar system; there simply wasnt any fun to be had here for battleships. Just small bait and relatively worthless stuff, like Cha in her rupture. Hmmm. Not that she was worthless - in fact Cha valued her own life pretty much, thank you.
"Go away!" she yelled into the communication channel.
It stayed silent for a while, and then she heard him laugh loudly.
"Oh, come on, it was just a little missile" he chuckled, and immediately another little missile took the other half of her shield out. Cha did not at all like the casual tone of this remark, and thought it would be as well to introduce some other subject of conversation.
"What in heaven's name are you doing here? This part of the universe is for the little people!"
"You sound real cute when you're angry, you know", the voice came back, unperturbed. Cha found him decidedly uncivil.
The targetlock alarm started bleeping again. "Dont you know your people know my people!", she insisted, "we are supposed to be working together!" but the lock stayed on. She braced for the impact, but the blow didn't come.
"What does he think he is doing", she mumbled, and frantically started giving defense commands. She wouldnt go without any slashing back, no sir!, even if it would only scrape his surface. She would get close to him and do her utmost best to be at least annoying. She locked him and turned the ship, pushing the microwarpdrive to its limits.
"You're in trouble now!", she warned him, praying the capacitor would hold.
He answered with a rattling salvo, but to her great delight it was miles off. "Awww," he said, "i missed you."
The missile she sent to him as a reply fluttered off in space, hitting nothing but stardust. "Splendid!", she sighed displeased.
"Come on babe," he said, "let me take your shiny shields down, and then that sexy armor, so i can reach your sweet little hull."
She was genuinely shocked. "That's not at all a proper way of expressing yourself," she answered with some severity, "it's very rude even."
A strain of unbridled laserbeams broke out from his ship, eating her armor away in a really alarming fashion. Truely exasperating behavior.
"You really expect me to roll over and play dead?", she hissed haughtily. He bursted in laughter. "No," he said, "that wasn't exactly what i had in mind. At least not the dead part."
Well, at least he wouldn't pod her. She came to her senses. It didn't matter much which way she put it: no way she would be able to hurt him before she would be hurt a lot worse. She could still try warping out. Probably the only sensible thing to do, since it looked like he was toying with her, that impetuous sadist. He would slowly, teasingly, mockingly take her hull and then wham, there would Cha go.
She resolutely gave the warp command. The crippled rupture gave all it could, but she didnt get anywhere. On the contrary - he was reeling her in, like a fish on a hook.
"Doooon't! C'mon! C'mon!", she yelled again, "i'm trying to get some space between us here!"
He basked in amusement: "It must be fatal attraction."
Hmm. She noticed the numbers. Within autocannon reach. She acted quickly. The sputtering rupture shook around and her four autocannons blasted right into his shield.
"Nice thinking," he sounded appreciative. She checked the damage stats. Dang! He barely had a scratch.
The rupture shook again and Cha felt queasy for a moment. His guns had cut through her armor like a knife through butter, setting off a multitude of other alarms.
"Still alive, baby?" he actually sounded a little worried.
"That hurt," she gasped, and then, "You'd better not do that again!"
She calculated. His turrets wouldnt be able to find her fast enough if she now moved into orbit. Ha!
She gave it all she had, and saw with great satisfaction how his shield finally started to show some red. It was uncannily slow, but he couldn't hit her.
His voice sounded unscathed and unshaken. "Come on," he said, "at this rate you will never have enough ammo before you have to give up anyway." She generally gave herself very good advice, though she very seldom followed it, but yes, she might get out of ammo and patience. True that.
"And you know i can push the button any time i like", he added soothingly. She sighed. That, she knew all too well.
"Okay," she gave in. "What do you want?"
"Sweety," she said much later, stretching lazily right before she fell asleep in his arms that she knew so well, "i wish you wouldn't keep vanishing and appearing that way. You make one quite giddy."
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