I've spent the last several days cleaning/moving junk out of the spare room in order to change it from "that room with all the crap in it" into a spare bedroom for guests or family.  Among the things that got hauled to the basement to be disposed of properly later: a dead computer, a broken television, a table, and boxes of all sorts of random stuff that you have to ask yourself, "Why in God's name do we even HAVE this?"  When cleaning, one always seems to wonder why one kept all the stuff that should have just thrown away to begin with.  Now, shockingly, after adding a mattress, it resembles an actual room instead of storage.  That's all well and good, but I am now exhausted and grumpy and I refuse to work until tomorrow!  On the bright side, cleaning is an excellent excuse to turn the music up loud and dance while you vacuum. Curse the both of you, Madonna and Justin! I don't *want* to enjoy "Four Minutes" that much. So... knock it off!

That's the thing about parties, such as my sister's high school graduation party (which is on Saturday). There is WAY too much behind-the-scenes cleaning involved. If you can't find me, I'm probably asleep. Or dead. Possibly a zombie.

In other news (which is often my favorite sort of news), here for your enjoyment is the opening to a story that I'm working on.  This is all the progress I have so far, but the story promises to be much more lengthy than I originally intended (as usual). It's (at least temporarily) titled "Four of Swords," named after the Tarot Card of the same, which represents a period of rest after hardship. You won't know much about the characters or events mentioned, since it is picking up from where other occurances left off, but I thought you might enjoy it nonetheless.

All you really need to know right now is this: Vincent Blade is the leader of a murder/violence Syndicate that is currently growing in power, the Red Dragon Syndicate. He is also a man with an extremely fractured psyche, who has distinct multiple personalities. As this story begins, he has recently fractured further and developed a fourth personality, which is a combination of the other three and has actually managed to grasp his own insanity. His mind, however, is already returning to its usual chaotic state now that the events that created his fourth self have passed.

This weblog in general is dedicated to my favorite sexy girl, Amber. The story is being written for her, anyway, but she seems to be having the worst week ever. So, with love, this is for you, Amber!

Four Of Swords: Introduction

Vincent Blade frowned as he looked down at the Red Dragon on his left breast. Hazy, late afternoon sunlight shone golden through the half-empty bottle of wine sitting beside him on the bar, casting twisted webs of light onto the polished wood. It illuminated the already deep crimson color of the wine in his glass, letting it shine. Along with his musing expression, he sighed as his fingers absently twisted the stem of his glass between themselves, light dancing along the rim. He sighed because the fangs resting beneath his lips were pressing against the inside of his mouth, his thirst for something other than wine already beginning to return a mere handful of days after he thought he had conquered his body's strange need for that addiction. The Miasmus was cold in its sheath, resting against his left hip and sleeping quietly. For now, at least.

His hand slipped beneath his cloak and then his shirt, brushing his right sleeve down from his shoulder. A few strange, bone-like scales still held onto his upper arm and near the base of his neck, a sign of his newly formed bond with the sword. He closed his painfully emerald eyes and shook his head, hiding the marks once again and buttoning his shirt. There had been twice as many of the scales just the day before. His fingertips brushed along the Red Dragon emblem on his chest, feeling the familiar stitching there. The blood-colored creature stood out as starkly against the white cloak as it did his usual black; it still felt exactly the same, though he was still unused to seeing the pale coloring of his own clothes. It was as though some divine hand had reached down and touched him, bleaching the black from him and causing a great red dragon to bloom on the back of his cloak. His inability to explain it made him somewhat bitter.

Though… It would not matter for all that much longer. That much, at least, he knew with certainty.

Already his gauntlets, though he was not wearing them just then, had returned to their ink-black state. The border of his cloak was showing black stains, as were the ends of his pants, which were hidden in his boots. It was pointless for him to pretend that these changes were not reflecting some sort of transition within him, that before long the self he had come to know in this past week would cease to exist. It might have been a depressing thought, except for the fact that, until a week ago, this state of mind had never existed at all. He would simply be returning to the natural state of things, forgetting them as they were now. And Vincent was fine with that.

The bar at which he sat while considering what remaining life was left to him was in a tavern called The Lilting Dragon. It was nestled in the center of the town that was steadily growing in the shadow of Red Dragon Syndicate Headquarters. A great number of people followed the members of Vincent's army to this place, and it was here that those family members, merchants, and onlookers gathered and declared themselves to be 'home.' Vincent found it somewhat odd, as he had been certain that the blood-soaked wake of the crimson dragon could never give life to much of anything save his own ambition. And it was that ambition that he knew, even as he sat and drank amongst them, would easily lead him to slaughter the people living here if it meant his stranglehold on the Syndicate's power would tighten even slightly.

On that thought, Vincent refilled his glass. As he placed the bottle back on the bar, his ears caught the mention of his own name and immediately he listened more carefully to what the tavern's other patrons were saying all around him. He was careful not to change his slightly slouched position, not wanting to alert those speaking to the fact that he was scrutinizing their words.

[The story continues from here.]

Peace and love, everyone.
"May your stories have the proper endings..."
~Kaylea

Swear to God, my cat was snoring.

Much of the rest of this blog is copy/pasted from my Myspace. But I felt like spreading it around.  And I suddenly feel like I have many ideas of things to post. *must limit self to once daily, lol* Anyway:

"So here’s a random little thought from yours truly...

Lately I’ve been playing Ace Combat Zero: The Belkan War for the PS2. It’s something of a flight sim, with a little bit of story thrown in. The player, known as Cipher or Galm 1, is the ’legendary’ mercenary pilot of The Belkan War known as The Demon Lord of the Round Table. Personally, I enjoy the Ace Combat series. It gives me a rush, all the flying and the missiles and the cool fighter jets. WOOSH. I was a little disappointed with the story in Zero, however, because I’ve managed to play through Normal, Hard, and almost Expert modes in 6 hours of play. That and the missions reminded me so greatly of those in Ace Combat 4: Shattered Skies that I was sad. :( Megalith = Excalibur, anyone? The concept and visuals of the story = love, though, in my nerdy little opinion. Not to mention my favorite fictional jet of all time, the X-02 Wyvern (Switchblade) is included. <3. If that were a real plane.. I just might die.

ANYROAD, I didn’t intend for this to be a Belkan War review. The point is, I’m now obsessed with the idea of the Fighter Squadron and the Wingman, a tightly knit group of people who rely on each other to survive in the air. I’m toying with a story idea, in fact, about a six-member squad (Dragon Team) who all share a very close bond and are keeping a great secret together, even from their commanding officers, maintenance crews, etc. The squadron is composed entirely of experienced Aces, or pilots with a confirmed kill record of 5 or higher.

I’m wondering if I could pull it off, considering that I know next to nothing about the technicalities of fighter planes, aerial combat, and such. (And I have to ignore my urges to insert the X-02 Wyvern. -.-') I feel like I might be able to if I focus on the characters as much as possible. With no technical knowledge, I’d probably be writing it for myself anyway, but I’d like my friends to be able to enjoy it.

Time to ponder... I’ll leave you with what I have of the story concept so far.
Dragon Team:
Flight Lead (The story’s female lead) : Dragon I, "Angel." Real name: Shana (temp name). The only female member of Dragon Squad, quiet, fragile-looking, young, yet all the other pilots seem to revolve around her. Represented by the numbers I, VIII, and the Tarot Card Strength.

Dragon II, "Dias." Real name: Unknown. Dragon I’s Wingman, or partner in flight. The Squad’s top Ace with a massive kill record. Dark and uptight on the surface, but very kind and gentle. Would do anything to protect Angel and her secret. Represented by the Tarot Card Knight of Cups (I think) and the numbers for it and II.

Dragon III, IV, V: Details unknown.

Dragon VI, "Anubis." Real Name: Alix (?). The newest member, known as Anubis, The God of Death, because he only takes shots in combat that he knows will strike the target. Meticulous, currently working as many hours as possible to support his new family (he's something with medical training..I can't decide). Represented by the numbers VI, XIII, and the Tarot Card Death."

Suggestions? Comments? Etc?  And now I am also plagued by a variation of an old story that never made it to paper and repeating concepts. >.>  But if it keeps me at least constantly inspired/working, I'm okay with it.