Vanessa

Suddenly Vanessa recoiled from the figue she and Tanuchan were facing, her expression full of fear and recognition, a look of shock entering her eyes. At the same time Maralasoth let out a shrill cry of terror. The people upon the walls of the Keep tensed, and Tanuchan barely resisted the impulse to look about nervously. Recovering herself, Vanessa let out a hiss of recognition. "Mazrim!" The name was uttered with loathing and hatred, escaping her mouth as if she could not bear for it to remain upon her tounge any longer than needed. Tanuchan saw Heinrichs eyes flare suddenly from the previously intense blue to the deep dark red of flame. From the figures mouth came a cruel, mocking laugh. "So, little elf, you have learnt to see clearly past the phsyical, that is good. You will need such skills in the times ahead." "We need no aid from you, now or ever! Go back to whatever hell you came from!" Vanessa's voice wavered slightly, as if she could barely force herself to speak. "You are a foolish child playing games, elf. Even now I see you trying to recall the lore of your ancestors. You cannot truly believe that you are a match for me? Mazrim of the Forsaken?" Laughter issued forth again, weighing heavily upon Vanessa's shoulders. "You should be grateful, princess. We have returned Heinrich to you. You are reunited once more. Congratulations..." Vanessa shuddered under the wieght of the demons words before turning to Tanuchan. Her voice when she spoke was weary but strong, filled with conviction. All sign of drink seemed to have been taken from it. "Open the gates. He...he is a friend."

I would choose deafness. That way I wouldn't have to listen to the endless rain that this country seems to have!

With a loud downrush of air Maralasoth landed lightly in one of the many courtyards of the Keep. Her rider dismounted rather less gracefully, her usually good sense of balance distored this time by fear rather than drink. Quickly she grabbed the nearest Pen member who seemed to know what they were doing. "We're under attack! There's a demon at the south gate!" Then she fainted, her last thought being the hope that she wouldn't have to see the hideous creature again.

Monday, 25th of October Rain is falling outside. Again. It's been raining for more than a week now. Not constantly raining-oh no, not this country! It lets up for a bit, draws back the clouds, even lets the sun shine for a while and warm you. Enough to make you think "well, that's that then, time to celebrate" before starting up again... It can't go on for much longer though-can it? Just how long can it rain in england before people decide that living on a boat would be the drier alternative? I've asked Dave these things but all he does is smile that smug smile of his and says it's good for the fields! Doesn't even have the decency to catch a cold (I personally have gone through 2 boxes of tissues and still don't look like getting better). On the bright side, when it does eventually stop I imagine I'll enjoy reading what I've written this day. It isn't as if I'd never heard of "british weather", I just never fully realised the reality of it.

From within the tower that once belonged to Heinrich, Vanessa watched the group of people approaching the keep. Absently she took a swig from the hip flask that was always by her side nowadays, brandy the only thing that dulled the pain of her memories. With her right hand she brushed her too-long hair out of her bloodshot eyes and squinted, trying to see better. "A new person coming to the keep..." she murmred, her voice made harsh due to the recent days of heavy drinking. "I think I'll pop down and say hello, might be something interesting..." Giving a shrill whistle, Vanessa summoned her Roc, Maralasoth, to the window. With a graceful leap marred only by a desperate grab at the powerful birds neck to steady herself she mounted Maralasoth, before sending her down to greet the newcomer.

The moon, set high in the heavens amongst the millions of stars, shed its light serenly through the window of the flat. Its pale white light picked out the fine detail on the thick rug that covered the floor, picking out the delicate red gold and black threads. The masses of DVDs stacked on the bookshelf appeared to be merely pale shadows, ready to fade away at any moment. The whole radiated a calm and peaceful serenity. With a loud bang! the front door to the flat flew open, accompanied by the sound of someone swearing heavily. "I can't believe you actually got in a fight, you the calm and unemotional pacifisct!" "I never claimed to be totally unemotional. Besides, the term getting in a fight suggests that I him. Did my fist come near smashing his face in?" Despite the fact he was clearly in an argument, the mans reply was irritatingly calm and assured, especially when compared to the womans heated words. "Stop sounding so bloody reasonable! And another thing, how the hell did you move so fast? Had lots of practice in this sort of thing?!" "Well, you know how it is. It's surprising how much you can learn from watching movies. Before you say anything else, may I suggest you consider what you are actually angry about?" There was a brief uncomfortable silence, then the womans voice came back, sounding sulky and childish even to her ears. "I'm going to write in my journal..."

Thursday, 7th of October I sit here, on my day off, staring at my journal, a decidedly worried look on my face. My intention was to write in this journal everyday, even if it was just one line saying "nothing worth writing about". And now I look back and see about three weeks worth of empty white pages, devoid of any writing whatsoever. It's strange how easily things can get away from you though. You start off by saying to yourself "I'm too tired, I'll write down something when I wake up" and then when you wake up you're too busy making breakfast and getting dressed for work to write anything. Nevermind, I am bloodied but unbowed (I've been reading Dorothy L Sayers books...fascinating stories!) Tommorow's pay day for both of us, it'll be good to be rich again-if only for a few days . So many films to see at the cinema, so many things I've seen that I want to buy. With all this anticipation I expect the day wil be really slow.

Earlier you said the Writing Exchange would be organised as .........A-->B ......../........\ .......F.........C ........\......../ .........E<--D I was just wondering if that had changed, or if it hadn't how we know what letter each person is...

Oooh! Ooooh! Sign me up! ***looks excited at the chance of meeting other people of The Pen***

I stood at the window facing east, watching the glorius sunrise. I had necer imagined such beauty existed. The clouds in the sky were stained red and orange with the light of the rising disk, the sun utself a glorius scarlet colour. I had never actually seen the sun rise before. Now I understood why Dave had been so insistant on having tall windows facing east. Idly I wondered whether the sunsets were as beautiful-Dave had insisted on west facing windows as well. Behind me I heard the creak of the floor as Dave entered the living room. I kept my back to him as I spoke, not wanting to turn away from the sight infront of me. "You're up early." "Couldn't sleep, ideas for stories kept running around my head. By the way, Heinrich's coming back." A look of surprise crossed my face, and I turned away from the sun to face him. "I thought killed him with the aid of the gods of neutrality. How can he come back?" "Aha! That's the clever bit. See, what happens is his body was destroyed but his soul was sent to the abyss, there to be tortured for eternity by the demons that dwell there. Anyway, against the plans of the neutral gods that sent him there he defeats the demons, earns thier respect and escapes back onto the mortal plane." "I don't know..." "Just think of it!" He was talking faster now and the usual look in his eyes was replaced with excitement. "Just think how happy your character will be to have her companion back." "True. Want me to help?" "Of course! How else would I know how Vanessa would act?" I grinned at him, the thought of working on a story with him again was a happy one, arguing with him over what was going to happen next was always fun. My decsion made, I left the window and made my way to my room, I had a lot I wanted to record in my journal. "Don't forget your promise not to look at my Journal topic." I reminded him over my shoulder. "Mmm..." his answer was absent minded and I knew that he was off in his own world and trying to work out how his story would begin. Hopefully we would actually finish this one...

Tuesday, 14th of September Last night Dave and I went to see The Terminal. It was a great film, even better for being based on a true story. I can't believe that someone has actually been living in an airport for fourteen years. It just goes to show what sort of a world we live in nowadays. Still, even if the governments of the countries don't give a damn, it's good to know that there are people in the world who still care enough to help him as much as they can. I took along the gift Dave bought me, more out of politeness than any real desire to carry it. I find it slightly worrying that someone as peacefull as Dave would actually buy me a military-type knife. I mean to say, he always goes out of his way to be polite to people, never pushes past them or anything. Or does he? Now that I think back over the times I've walked through town with him, does he keep clear of the people around him or do they keep clear of him? Does he walk in his own personal space out of choice, or is it because they fear him? I know I'm being silly, just letting my imagination run away with me, but I can't seem to stop the thoughts running 'round my head. After the cinema we went to the Aroma resturant next door-best food I've ever tasted! There was so much to talk about as well-none of those awkard silences my friends back home kept complaining about. It was just like I was talking to him on MSN Messenger again. I have to go now, Dave's waiting for me to help with the next events in the roleplay of ours. A shame no one's joining it-I'd like to meet more people in this place. Oh well.

I let the plastic carrier bags drop to the floor as I stand outside our door. Gently I massage the palms of my hands, trying to ease the pain that the plastic handles have caused. I try to get my breath back from the long climb up to the twelth floor while at the same time cursing whoever broke the lifts. Slowly the pain in my hands lessened and my breathing began steadier. Reaching inside my pocket I pulled out the key, unlocked the door and lifted the bags again for the final strech to the kitchen. As I entered the living room I saw Dave look up from the book he was reading and grin his familiar grin. The sight of it warmed me as it always did, and yet I couldn't help feeling sad as well. Despite the warmth of his smile, I could still see a look of mingled pain and sorrow in his eyes. It was so intense and sharp that it made me want to weep - me, who hadn't cried for over ten years! Someone only just past twenty shouldn't have suffered as much as he must have done to cause that look. Hell, someone twice his age shouldn't have seen it! Once again I wished he would just tell me what caused it, but I restrained myself from asking. He would tell me in his own time. Oblivious to my thoughts, Dave waved a greeting. "Wotcha Ness, I left a drink on the sideboard, figured you'd need it what with the lifts breaking down. Oh yeah, the package is for you as well, just a small gift from me." Despite my somewhat depressing thoughts I couldn't help grinning back. Trying to keep myself from running to the much needed drink I walked on through to the small kitchen, dumped the shopping gratefully on the side and took a long drink of the blackcurrant squash. Curiously I looked at the parcel, trying to guess what he had bought...

You have so many secrets, Hidden in your soul, Locked away from everyone. Why keep secrets from your friend? Would it hurt to let me in? Such pain lies within your eyes, Your dreams make you scream, Would it really hurt to talk? It helps to discuss your pain, Makes it easier to end. It takes one word to end things, One word to release, You should not bear it alone. Stop writing stories for now, Let me in just this one time.

Ness stands beside Soli at thier mollusc stall, happily crying out her sales pitch. "Freshly caught mollusc's! Best seafood in The Pen! Come on ladies, gentlemen and assorted creatures, make us an offer for these tasty morsels, garunteed to pleasure the mouth! Your tounge will love you for a month!"

This is just a quick (well, reasonably quick ) explanation of why I a) haven't been visiting my account lately (in case I'm considered being deleted by the bosses) and why Soli is suddenly occasionaly reffering to himself in the third person (in case anyone is thinking he's become a skitophrenic). I've decided (after pointing things out to Soli several times and stressing certain points-he can be so stubborn sometimes!) that since most of my work and his recently has been formed by us working together, there was really no point in him always writing that it was written by both of us every time. Instead he might as well just say us in the places where we work together, and then point anyone who was wondering to this topic. I'll still be using my own account for my individual writing, though I admit that this will be few. I get all nervous and tense and have to lie down for a few hours with a wet towel on my forehead. There, that's about everything I think. If there's any questions feel free to post them and I'll try to answer promptly. btw: Have I spealt "skitophrenic" right?