| Fiona absorbed the comment without even a flicker of emotion. If her dear brother could see her eyes though, he would see the tidal wave of fury that threatened to drown him. Her eyes flashed and if looks could kill she would be an only child. She turned her gaze though to the heart on the table. It was Kirialen's heart though, not his. After all this time, this was the best he could do? He could have apologized for his disappearance. Not that she would have forgiven him. Certainly not after she had searched for him for so long. The cruel betrayal of him blocking her, was something that she could not forgive. How DARE he block her! They had always been close and she did not understand why he felt the need to leave. He hadn't even said goodbye... She poked at the heart with her fork and then raised her shielded eyes to his, " Well brother, it seems you overcooked it...don't you know that it should be rare, so rare that it is bleeding...? " Fiona glanced at the head, glad that she couldn't see the details from here. Just some head in a jar. Real nice collection her brother seemed intent on contributing to, after all he was the one who started it. She smoothed her blue silk pantsuit with one hand and gestured at the head in a jar with the other. " Argyyle, if you hadn't noticed...I have grown up some since you last saw me...can't you think of something better to give me? " Her voice was as silken as her garb, with almost a growl underneath her words. " I am not a child anymore, certainly not a child who collects heads, " she chuckled lightly and leaned over him her voice growing even softer, " besides dear brother how DARE you presume to replace my lovely last image of dear Kirialen with this monstrosity! She put her lips close to his ear as if to whisper to him, " GET OUT OF MY ROOM !!!! Fiona shouted this in his ear, and while he was still reacting to that, she hauled him out of the chair and threw him out her door. A second later the jar came flying out too and crashed into the wall in the hall. It smashed and the head came bouncing out to land in a wet heap in her brother's lap. The door slammed shut until a few moments later when the dishes and heart were flung out as well.The door slammed shut and all was silent. |
| Foolish Games |
| Argyyle sat there a moment, dazed and totally stupified at this reaction. No, she most certainly was NOT a child anymore. Argyyle picked up the head, and turned it so he could see into the empty eyes of Kirialen. "Well, dear brother, it lookes like i snarked up big time, didnt i?" Argyyles small, still smile returned. "not as much as you, though." With that, Argyyle tossed the gruesome trophy into the wall incerator, and winced painfully as he got up. Argyyle's thoughts were in turmoil as he limped to his room to clean up and change. He had sadly misjudged Fiona's reaction. She was right, he had no right to surprise her like this. In his own defence, he HAD tried to contact her, but it had been to long. their link was still there, of course. nothing would ever take it away, but it had atrophied much. He would have to take steps to rectify that mistake in judgement. He only hoped Fiona would understand his motivations and reasons for cutting himself off. Upon entering his room, argyyle paused a moment and looked around. The room's walls were decorated sparingly with a few weapons, some exercise equipment, and his study terminal. He closed his eyes, and tried to feel something for this place, but felt only...nothing. emptiness. a void. this place was no longer his home. Truly, had never been. Argyyle went over to the terminal to check what clothing was in style at the moment (he assumed the computer had analyzed his dimensions upon decting his presence). not that he cared what was in style, but he would never be unaware. He ran through several before finding one he liked. there would have to be some changes, but it would do. nicely. he programmed the computer to produce the garment and stepped into the shower to cleanse the travel grime from his body. He rubbed his face. he had barely started shaving when he left, and now had a full and thick beard. that would have to go as well. His hair he would leave. it had always been longish, but he had left it alone in the wilderness, and now was down to his midback. When he came out of the shower, his skin a little red from the chemicals, he lay on his bed, and sat up immediately. He ran his hand over the bed cover. It was VERY fine fabric, of course, but it abraded his skin nonetheless. Argyyle felt a sense of dislocation, as if he had been uprooted and sent to a strange world he had never imagined, but was not unfamialiar to him. He curled up on his bed, missing his fur bed covers. he had killed those beasts himself, and once cured, their fur was softer than any artifical fabric could hope to be. He opened up his link to his sister, and tried to appologize to her. he tried to do so more with feelings than words. "im sorry, fi." he let just a fraction of his lonliness and contrition through, then sighed. enough of this weakness. He was no child either. Not anymore. |
| The computer beeped at Argyyle, indicating that his garment was ready. Excellent. He got up from the bed, and removed the garment from the closet. He HAD missed the conveniences of home. Argyyle inspected the garment carefully. excellent...no flaws, and of exceptional quality. perfect. Argyyle examined himself in the mirror. The pants and under tunic, a dark, dull coal-black, fit snugly, but did not restrict. the over tunic, a deep green, matched his boots perfectly. black piping matched the tunic and pants, and a plain belt, black with green piping, cinched tight to accent his shoulders. He lifted the sheathe, and examined it critically. a tad plain, but it would do for now. he lifted it over his shoulder, and fastened the strap over his chest to the belt on his left hip, so the hilt of his sword would stick up from his right shoulder. Next, he hefted his sword. a plain and ugly thing, its only beauty in its function. Argyyle began the first few movements of a sword routine, but there really wasnt enough room to fully test his range of movement. The sword lacked the perfect balance of his practice blades, but he was used to it, and it him. they had fought together, survived together, created and destroyed together. he would not be separated from his blade. father would just have to deal with it. He mused about his father as he sheathed the sword and tied his hair in a long ponytail. He wondered what the old man wanted. probably something trite, he imagined. Argyyle didnt give a damn why his father had called this formal meeting, only that he had. He touched the dark core of hatred deep within himself, and relished the taste of his power. it would be an... interesting... meeting, that was for sure, whatever the outcome. He pulled on his Sith-black gloves, and a small still smile crossed his face. |