Skip to main content

Nigh: Crossing Streams: 1/1

Crossing Streams
by Max

copyright 2015

Nigh paused, attention drawn to the open pages, the light filtering on the still white paper. Held breath broke and he drew in a deep breath of the room's lost world. Life crumpled to dust, mold and slowly degrading biomaterial coated his tongue, senses, breaking down in his processing centers, cotton, ancient tobacco molecules, artificially created lavender molecules, and he stepped into the room, in the ancient old house he'd chosen to hide in. Without a sound that an unenhanced life form could have heard, he crossed to the chair. His processing system picked up the faintest hints of human DNA, but it was the billion year old curiosity of life that began fleshing out the being that had the pattern belonged to, painting it with the molecules of its existence as they lingered in the abandoned room.

Spindly black encased fingers traveled slowly down the the arm of the chair, the fragile woven cotton, wool batting under it, long dead pine under that, traces of human need and ritual scattered throughout the molecules.

Temperature in the room shifted, chilling, and his attention followed the epicenter of the chill by the windows. She stood there, chin lifted proudly, lips parted, but faintly blue. Her hair would have been chestnut in life, her skin a warm cream color. Her head tilted, her being made more of memory than of living curiosity.

Nigh touched the tips of his fingers, pointer fingers touching his cheeks, just below his eyes, as he bowed politely, long twilight hair swirling around him, dancing on the streams of temperature and molecular dance in the room. Clothed in battle armor of a black so matte that he could be a ghost no less than she, he held there in his bow, slipped between the moments of time. "Forgive my intrusion, Mother, I seek shelter only."

Color returned to her cheeks. A quick breath and warmth flowed into her. Beautiful, fragile as a rose, warm and breathing, grey eyes confused and curious. "What are you? I did not believe in demons."

"I am called Nigh. In what year did you live, Mother?"

"The year is 1918. I am not dead. Why do you call me 'mother'? I have no children. I am barely twenty and newly married."

Nigh blinked, swapping out the lenses filtering data in the ancient house. "Congratulations, Mother," Nigh said, bowing politely again. "Please forgive my intrusion. I suffered damage in my attempt to apprehend the oathbreakers. I seek only a moment's refuge to repair."

Warm, living fingers tugged at the lace on her sleeve, her eyes now gold touched brown as she studied him. "Is there some way that I might be of assistance to you, odd child? Are you truely the child of men?"

"Yes, Mother, I am of the line of men. I will come back for you, when I have completed my current assignment."

"I see no need, odd child," she said, smiling kindly, marveling at the wonders of science. Had not, indeed, men conquered the air now? Still, such strange wanderings of the mind must be from the flu. Germs. With August had come such terrible illness and she was beyond joyful that neither she nor Charles had contracted the vile illness that swept through the county. She'd always had too much imagination, a fact of which she was too keenly aware, but this was hardly the time to indulge it. Certainly the last thing she needed to imagine was a strange child with twilight hair and cat-like eyes.

"Madam," a gentle voice soothed. "Perhaps now would be a good time for a bit more calmative tea."

"Parson," she created him calmly, though once again tugging at the lace on her sleeve. "I think my thoughts wander enough as it is. Have you come to see Charles?"

"Madam, your husband was taken home to God last night. In time, your thoughts will settle."

"I saw a child and he called me mother."

The parson took her hand, holding it gently between his. "My dear, God will give us the gifts that are best for us."

"... But he called me mother."


Popular posts from this blog

Heart of Magic Chapters 1 & 2

Heart of Magic By Max All Rights Reserved Copyright 2017

“Are you lost,” he asked, voice amused, deep and as comfortable being in the shadow. Panting, the red silk of her gown moved against the curve of smooth breast, The same gown hugged her waist, slowed down behind her almost like a wedding train, but in the brightest red. Violet eyes stared up at him, trying to decide if he were a friend. The question was hard to answer. “I....” He leaned a little, his smile confident, engaged. Dark eyes seemed to swallow her whole as if she were a sugar cube melting in his champagne. “Well, what is it, my pretty cardinal?” Almost as if compelled, as if tell him the truth were her most sweetest desire, she admitted, “I came in with the offering girls because I’m looking for my brother. I think the king is holding him because he’s a journalist and an activist for democracy.” Both her hands covered her mouth, those violet eyes wide with shock. “You think the king keeps political prisoners,” he said, on ha…

Fic: Not Quite Single 1/?

Not Quite Single by Max
Disclaimer: I own neither Gundam Wing nor Captain America
“You’re right. There is definitely something there,” Hilde said. On the bridge of their little salvage craft, she touched the data display, the 3d image of the ice shelf they were exploring.
They were, technically, getting paid to disperse oceanographic sensors for the University of Tokyo. Doing a little salvage on the side was just a perk.
“What’cha think it is?” Duo asked, pulling his wet suit up over his shoulders. His hair was growing out again and was down past his shoulders if it wasn’t in a ponytail. Silver touched his temples, metallic and shimmery. Anti-aging technology kept him in peak condition, looking early twenties, at oldest. Anticipating his swim, the gills on the side of his throat opened, tingling pleasantly.
“Early plane, like fuck,” Hilde said. While she had always had a couple years on him, it didn’t show at all. Her hair was flame red curls now. One eye was completely artificial, thoug…

fic: Blood on the Brain 2/?

Blood on the Brain 2/?
by Max
Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing

As a side note, my blog now has all 13 chapters of Dark Wolf in one post.

The current ‘safe house’ had been a shipping container at some point in its life. Now buried under a landfill like a hobbit hole with door that used to be a refrigerator it had made a fine home for several months. Power came from solar collectors as well as thermal from sensors sunk deep into the raging pile of trash. The floor was a mosaic of broken glass grouted with some strange gunk that Quatre had mixed up, which made it smooth and pebbly.
The table had the top of a boxy car from way before any of them were born, cut off and mounted in the floor so that it looked like the had just sunk into the floor. Duo and Quatre had been drunk when the table got made. It still generated snickers.
They had a washing machine made out of a large spent artillery casing and an engine from something that had…