#solomen

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories. See if there are any patterns. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

Don’t have anyone to tag really…so do if you like.

All fics posted can be read on my AO3 account: Fade_Writer13. Posting links are harder on mobile.

The silence was almost deafening , like a huge storm just went through the flat. Frankly, that was the exact situation. SolOmen had to take a few steps into the flat and call out for Mystique again before he got a response. Something moved in the darkness, but her pristine black coat made it almost seem like the darkness itself moved. Only the shine of her eyes as they reflect the light that falls from the staircase into their dingy home betrayed her position. Mystique takes a few careful steps towards SolOmen, still acting like a beaten dog, her whole body quivering like leaves in an autumn breeze "… …Wh-where is-s she?" The weird mix of fear and worry set Sol of a little. Yet again it showed how easy it was to hurt her trust.

SolOmen

"she. . .needed some time to think and sober up."

SolOmen pulled the shacking mare into an embrace, her hair smelled like lavender and tears. " She told me. . . well she told me a lot of things. Apparently Kira is still suffering from what harlequin did to her. . . Nightmares of sorts. I think we both just assumed she was still going strong. Not like she would ever tell us if she wasn't"

Mod: I hope this answers your question

Three moons and eight nights since the longest day/p

I had long began to suspect that the troubles my condition perpetually plagued me with knew. They knew what they were doing, every time it was the most inconvenient or the most life threatening the bad luck seemed to stack up against me. This is one of those times.

I don’t think I’ve written it in this section yet so I’m going to reiterate it for practicalities sake. Your name Is Sol Omen, But everyone you know just calls you SolOmen or Sol for short. This is your Journal, You are a cursed soul, cursed to never die or more accurately, never stay dead. Apparently the condition isn’t the handicap it used to be, but I digress. Usually that’s not such a bad thing, but in your case there is a catch. If you take a look at your hoofs for a moment you will notice they are covered in scars. Yes the fact that your hoofs are a forest of thin pale line on top of tanned flesh is no accident, but we will get to that later.

You can’t die. Period. For all the research and searching you have done you . . . You know when I write to myself like this I’m going to use we. That way it sounds less depressing. The road gets lonely and I need someone to talk to, or be it the illusion of talking, but I’m digressing again.

Ok, for all the research and searching we have done we have never been able to find anything that has been able to make the sweet release of death stick. Burning, drowning, every single puncture wound you can think of, Dismemberment, Decapitation, Decapermemberment (the combination of the two latters), Burned at the stake and scattering the ashes, electrification and finally Ritual sacrifice. . .Yea, I’m not sure what we were thinking either.

Every single time we die we come back the next sun rise in a pillar of fire, ghostly screeches and the shattering of rock, so far we have no idea what it means. When we come back to life we get a scar from the injury that killed us. If you stop reading and take a moment to look at your body you will find that you have a metric fuck ton of scars. I would recommend you keep a jacket on because everyone ask questions when they see them and that’s the last thing you need. But here’s the catch.

Every time you die you lose your memories, usually a few months to a year. This is the reason we are writing this down in a Journal. We make sure to log everything important. This helps us remember people places and important things, and in case the worse were to happen and we woke up having no idea who we are, this Journal will serve as are guide. There’s one more thing, it’s not every day that someone is put in a life or death situation, so following that chain of logic I bet you’re wondering why your coat looks cutting board that is long overdue for a replacement. Well we are also cursed with bad luck.

I’m not talking about I got a bad hand in poker kind of luck, although that happens too. I’m talking about that cave you decided to sleep in is also the home of a sleeping bear, or maybe it just so happens that there is a flash flood that spews from an underground spring or it’s an old hide out for a group of bandits. You might laugh but all of those have happened before. We don’t know why but terrible things just seem to happen to and around us all the time, and it gets worse the more we stay in one place. This has stopped us from developing any lasting relationships or settling down in any shape or form. As you can imagine is not the easiest of lives, and with no real way to end it we have no choice but to persevere. Which is why we are searching, searching for anything and anyone that might know what this curse is or who might have done it or even WHY they did it in the first place. Which leads me to are current adventure.

The woods we are currently in are called the Sleeping Woods. They span for leagues and are home to many a nasty zombie ghost or even Necromancer. Which is good news for us, since necromancy is generally frowned upon in most civilized cultures. Sensible people not wanting their loved ones reanimated corps jumbling around and what not. We heard of a Necromancer by the name of Nyx that lives in these woods from some folks in the last town we were in. Apparently Nyx is a beginner and hasn’t yet created an army of the damned or made themselves a litch or whatever ignorant people think necromancy does to a person.

We have been traveling for a few days and making good time . . . well we’ve had to. Remember that town I mentioned, well apparently a few of those residents fall into the ignorant list we just discussed. Which normally wouldn’t be a problem, we are no stranger to evil looks and long glares. What is unfortunate is that they seem to think we are some kind of demon and have come to bring power and immortality to are new master. I have no idea who put that idea in their heads . . . the fact that we died from infection and blew up the grave keepers body cart the next morning didn’t help are case. Ok, I’m getting off topic, if you want that story go back a few pages. Anyhow, the point of the matter is three beefy farmers with sickles and hunting rifles are coming to kill you and do what they can to keep you in the ground.

As of now we have 6 years left in memory and 25 of it written down. If that’s destroyed or we are murdered a half a dozen times we might be up a creek and without a paddle. So I need you to keep me safe (the journal if I wasn’t being clear). You gota find that Nyx fella and convince him to help ya. We are running out of options, we have been steadily losing years for the past 25 and Harlequin isn’t making it any easier. If you want the whole story about that freak and what his twisted plans are for you then go to page 34 under PONIES TO AVOID. The short story is be is the one that gave you that scare that runs 70 percent through our neck and he would be happy to give you another after he tortured the sanity out of your last screaming breath. But like I said, Page 34, it’s a good read, I would know I wrote it myself.

Oh last thing.

If it things come down to a fight you have three options, one Run. We are very good at it. A life time on the road and being avid practitioners of cowards, we have become masters in the art of running way. You can’t lose a fight you don’t show up to.

Three punch them in the nose and run away. Another one on the long list of mysteries is how good we are at fighting. Most of the thin scars on your hands and forearms are from blocking knifes and swords and stuff. For more on that go to page 66 under LONG LIST OF MYSTERIES. Also on the long list of mysteries is the dagger, which brings us to option three. We have a dagger made out of some kind of black ice. The thing is seriously weird and never melts but is always cold to the touch. No matter how hard we try to get rid of it we can never manage to keep it gone. As soon as we die again there it is, back in are possession. Anyway we are really good with the damn thing. It cuts threw almost anything and looks pretty cool to boot.

Mystique, still sobbing, shakes her heads

" I… I don’t k-know ~sob~  She never  I mean, I never heard her talking like"

It’s hard to understand her through all the sobs and stuttering and it ends with Mystique just falling into you, crying on your shoulder. You try as best as you can to comfort her while silently cursing Kira for successfully ruining a perfect evening. After a while Mysitque slowly stops shaking and you can hear her asking with a quivering whisper

" Is… Is it t-true?… what Kira said?"

SolOmen

He places her hoofs under her chin, pulling her eyes to his own. "Now you Listen to me, what you sister has done was disgusting and spiteful. A part of her may believe what she said, but that doesn't make it true. You are my precious to me and I wouldn't change a thing about you. But as For your sister. . . she has some explaining to do. She better have a good answer."

His kiss catches Mystique off-guard, making her flinching back at first. But after the shock fades away she gives in to your embrace and kisses back. It felt good to be held again, to be desired. She’d never admit it to herself but she missed it a little. But not as much as she missed SolOmen. She presses herself against him, trying to get as close as possible. The kiss breaks and you end up nuzzling each other, sharing small kisses and caresses. After you finally manage to get away from one another you both enjoy the rest of the evening with good food, good music and good talks. About the future and the life you now plan to share.

 Windsong packs her violin back into it’s case and you throw her a last grin, a silent thank you. On your way home Mystique starts getting playful, dancing over the empty cobblestone street in this surprising warm night. She has become much more like she used to be, her childlike innocence seems to return with every hour you spend together. As you come to the big apartment building you make your way up the staircase, giggling like two teenagers who did something they weren’t allowed to. But both of you come to a stand as you notice that your steps aren’t the only thing that echos throught the large staircase. Someone is playing the piano

http://youtu.be/sKaFVB_AIRo

The melody sounds like a void, a vast emptiness. Gloomy and bittersweet. A dying breath. Hollow light. The closer you come the more it’s clear that it indeed comes out of your flat. Mystique exchanges some worried looks with you before slowly opening the door. It creaks and the music stops immediately. Before you can even step inside the door to Kiras room flew open, slamming into the wall

" whos there?!"

Out of the room reels Kira, the sound of clanking beer bottles following her. She tilts her head and squints her eyes as she looks at Mystique who’s obviously more then shocked by her appearance. Her eyes are red, dark rings under them. She leans against the wall as she has apparently problems to stand on her own. The smell of her breath even reaches you still standing in the door frame and is almost strong enough to make you feel tipsy.

"… K-kira… are you alri"

She gets harshly interupted.

" Ohh yesss. Im just great. Butwaht’s your fuggin problem eh? How about tellin  me the nechst time before you leave for hours huh?"

Mystique, seemingly frightened by her sister condition, speaks up again 

" I’m… I’m sorry b-but I thought I"

Kira starts aping here in a  corrosive tone

"I thought I thought I thought. You always think Mysi. How about you do something for a change. Do you remember who’s still after us? Who we’re ran away from? For fucks sake sis, I was worried sick ! But you don’t think about shit like that do you? No, your heads to pretty for that right?! … it’s always just about you. Always was just about you. I always had to bend shit straight you fucked up. Took the beating for you. Because the little miss perfect couldn’t do anything on her own apart from crying and GETTING FUCKED!!"

Mystique, huddling the whole bombard over, violently flinches under the last words. She starts tearing up and takes a step back.

"Oh what? Gonna start crying now?” Kiras breath starts to get heavy " Do you know how much I cried?! What I gave up for you?! The things I did ?! NO! How could you?! I’d have to be a mirror so you’d even look at me!!" 

The first tear runs down Kiras face

"All the shit ~sob~ ALL THE SHIT I WENT THROUGH! Because of your inability to grow up!! I had to grow up as soon as you were born you know that? Cause mom and dad only had eyes for their little angel. I could’ve lain starvin under the kitchen table and they wouldn’t have noticed. You where the fucking center of the universe and I… I was a bother  -Why can’t you be like your Mystique?-   -Mystique never gets in trouble with others-    -Mystique grades are better though-  

Mystique Mystique MYStique MYSTIQUE!!”

Her speech turns into a violent screaming in the end. Mystique stands in shock, tears flowing down her face. You’d never thought to whittness such an onslaught by her own sister, the one that seemed to care most about her.

"… I… I didn’t… I mean I… for fucks sake"

Having found her sense of balance again. Kira trots past you and Mystique, shoving her aside, and vanishes into the staircase. The door in the foyer slams down loudly as she storms outside, echoing like thunder through the residential portion.

Mystique stands there like she got struck by lightning, the whole scene to fast and violent for her to even understand what just happened. Finally she just breaks down sobbing

There’s no way Mystiques eyes could have gotten any bigger. In awe she keeps looking down to the mare, over to the fine arranged dinner table and back to you. Speechless by the beautiful scene that plays in front of her she stands there, the biggest smile on her face. You escort her over to the table and both of you sit down. The song of the violin echoes through the great hall as you drown in her dark blue eyes once more. Mystique, who’s still overwhelmed by your effort, keeps looking down to Windsong and back to you until she finaly finds her voice again  

"S-SolOmen I… … I don’t know what to say this is… it’s…. perfecet… did you all this just… just for me?" There’s a faint blush on her face

SolOmen

"I wanted to make you feel special, I wanted to make you feel loved. And with some help from some friends I think I succeeded."