Mossy Tea

After Nano

2009-12-04T13:54:56Z

So, after all my hard work to try and write 50,000 words, I sign on past midnight November 30th and find I can't submit.

I guess I didn't read the rules thoroughly enough.

And I didn't make 50,000 words, but the last week we had too much going on at work and to much in my personal life to even get on the computer, much less turn hand-written pages into Word documents.

However, with the turmoil at work mostly over, and the stress of Nano behind me, I started working on a new idea.

Female!Kurogane and Fai. They didn't get enough closure/love/whatever-term-you-like at the end of Tsubasa, and somehow the way the idea began had Kurogane firmly female, and Fai male (but still utterly Fai - i.e. often more feminine and graceful than most girls), and Fai unintentionally entering her world and wrecking her plans for adulthood.

More will be explained as I actually get the story past paper.

But I'm quite thrilled with how far the story has revealed itself to me (far beyond where I had planned on it going or even progressing) so that's exciting to have a new project past Oddballs - once I finish Oddballs.

I may actually wait to be finished with this one before posting it. That would be a turning point for me with my writing. =)

In other news, Oddballs should be finished by the end of the year!! Almost all the words have been written, though not all the series have been wrapped up (that may be "100 Situations Encore Edition").

But I'm so excited. I think I started in... November of '06. More than three years ago.
Wow. Thanks for sticking with me!!

Watanuki?!

2009-11-24T00:32:30Z

Still working on Nanowrimo, though I think I'm not going to make it... I don't get Thanksgiving off. Sigh.

But reading Kobato, I got a sudden shock. I know he's from Suki (CLAMP), but he looks like a grown-up version of Watanuki!! He could totally compete with Doumeki if he grew up to be like this:

Watanuki, right?

Still looks like him

Writing (or the apparent lack of)

2009-10-05T03:57:10Z

Strangely, I hadn't noticed that my last few posts have been poetry. I actually only write poetry when I have the chance to be outside and relaxed - and that happens very rarely with my pace of life.

Instead, I've been doing actual writing. (Shock!)
There are 4-5 notebooks just full of my next chapters, for nearly every story I've started... but the date for which they will get to the computer and then edited for online viewing is not so near.

If I had a tiny laptop like in those commercials, or even just a simple typewriter to use at work, things would probably get off paper more quickly. But though I use two keyboards just to do my job every day, we're not allowed to plug in USB drives. Something about legal issues and sensitive information.

Like I'm interested in stealing someone's identity. Please. I have enough of a time being me, I don't need to get in legal trouble as someone else. Or over someone else.

But before I knew of this rule, I did write at work... and so the crowds (hopefully there's a crowd) got updates. Now... it's enough for me to write each night, go to sleep in the morning, and then run after kids most other afternoons.

I'm not married; not a parent. Why am I running after kids, again?

Oh yeah, I love them.

On bad days I wish I didn't care about people so much. Think of all the work I could get done! All the music I could listen to, the books I haven't read! And then my writing would suck, most likely.

So I'll toddle off and try to finish my newest plot bunny from Ouran/Oddballs. I swear, each time I promise myself I will only write the first chapter as a stand-alone, someone begs for more, some new idea emerges, and I have a waiting disaster on my hands.

NOT THIS TIME!!! MWU HA HA!

Update: There is a sequel. I am stuck eating my words yet again...

xXxhoLic: my weakness

2009-05-30T15:34:20Z

I cried my eyes out through chapters 180-182.
I should have expected it of CLAMP; was expecting it, but while I could imagine Yuuko dying, I hadn't imagined Watanuki. Watanuki's broken heart or his despair as he's helpless, once again, to stop the people he cares about from leaving him.

Yuuko all but gave him life, friends, family, a home, a purpose, joy... I only have just realized how much Yuuko meant to him, and though he played it off, Watanuki has obviously always known he cared about her.

I think if I'd known I would cry through the xxxhoLic and Tsubasa series as much as I did Honey and Clover, I might have tried not to get so emotionally invested in the characters.

It probably wouldn't have worked, though...

P.S. I'm back! Thailand was beautiful.

Bursting of Joy, of Words

2009-02-20T07:09:38Z

And what words can we use to declare Your Majesty?
What dance can give proper praise?
What song, what notes, can tell of Your Beauty, Your Love -
How great are the ways You've given us to express
But still, unexpressable when faced with the reality of You.
    You, who conquered death itself.
    You, who love beyond all borders, limits, reason and understanding.
    You, whose greatness is beyond all worth.
Angels sing and praise because it is all
Eternity not enough for what you deserve.
We serve a good, good God!
    Rejoice!
    Rejoice, all suns, moons and stars!
    Rejoice, all you who have breath.
For the King, your Creator, loves you!
Timeless One, I cannot fit you into my time
but must throw myself into the ocean of your love,
trusting the drowning will bring life.
Glory of God, come down to earth, swallow us whole.
Holy Fire, fall on us.
Wind, sweep us from all that is known
Into You, our Great Mystery of Mercy.
Anointing Oil, set us apart, to life greater than dreams,
Life that goes without end.
Jesus' blood never fails me.
So sing, all notes, to the praise of the One who made you.

Not mine, but helpful reminders

2008-12-19T09:02:10Z

How To Be a Poet
by Wendell Berry

Make a place to sit down.
Sit down. Be quiet.
You must depend upon
affection, reading, knowledge,
skill—more of each
than you have—inspiration,
work, growing older, patience,
for patience joins time
to eternity. Any readers
who like your poems,
doubt their judgment.

Breathe with unconditional breath
the unconditioned air.
Shun electric wire.
Communicate slowly. Live
a three-dimensioned life;
stay away from screens.
Stay away from anything
that obscures the place it is in.
There are no unsacred places;
there are only sacred places
and desecrated places.

Accept what comes from silence.
Make the best you can of it.
Of the little words that come
out of the silence, like prayers
prayed back to the one who prays,
make a poem that does not disturb
the silence from which it came.

Mid-Autumn Festival

2008-09-15T06:41:29Z

The moon was bright tonight (duh), and as my father had given me a moon cake to celebrate my partial heritage, I realized I had to write about the moon... and a lot of other things. This is long, so I apologize to those that have not yet converted to poetry.

Autumn Heritage
Moon so bright;
It's your night.
Autumn's here,
Have great cheer.
Night come on bold
Fear not the cold.
Moon cake in hand,
How can I stand?
White gaze lingers;
I stretch out fingers.
Chinese eyes
Watch and sigh.
Years on years
Those old seers,
Poem-punch drunk;
Our history shrunk
Into a moment
Away from torment
Onto a scroll, cry
Of lonely beauty tried,
Tested. Star-lovers
Cross again, covered
by clouds tonight.
Still shines so bright.
Luna, Selene,
You are all things
Woman and life
Goddess and strife
Tales upon tales:
Your faces so pale.
Moon gazing tonight,
Darkness take fright.
Even cloud cover near
Illuminates fear
O rabbit, O man,
How lonely you land
On dusty magic
Life so fantastic.
O luminous eye
Way up in the sky.
We salute you this day
For guiding our way.
And the stories all told
Will gently unfold.

Poetry at and about work

2008-08-22T07:30:31Z

It's a cacophony of noise
panic and calm, ringing, typing and talking.
Numbers, names and locations fly
laws consulted in a brief breath
A voice rises over the others -
"He's run into the street with a knife?"
tone such that I must smile
despite death's touch.
Information's squeezed out
like blood from a rock -
Frustration mounts.
Insanity of the world taken apart
and sorted. Tempers strain,
a baby's cries drown out its mother.
Pain flows through a phone
for a second; just a second
for compassion and then -
the river rushes onward.
Radios buss, with "Henry Zebra Boy."
Laughter breaks, sighs release;
Perhaps inappropriate,
but life-giving in lifting
up spirits and hearts.
Acceptance comes
amongst the filth of the world.
I'll take it Lord, and try to see
You in the beauty
of this symphony.

My thoughts move faster through poetry these days than prose, which is unfortunate for my main audience, but necessary for me to make it through the days.
Now you just have to guess what my job is. =) It may sound insane, but I've come to feel affection for it. And also boredom and hate and a whole flood of things I never expected when I first considered applying. It seems I'm to meet life head on this year, and in my lostness from the transition to something I can't rightfully call adulthood, I glory in the chaos of my work.

Love you guys (gals) and if I get time, I will post more on my stories. A full notebook is just waiting to be moved onto the computer.

Update

2008-08-09T07:53:55Z

I'm feeling lazy, so I'm not posting the new Regency chapters for Oddballs here - go to ff.net.
To summarize, Honey gets a girl (finally).
It's only been half a year since I got the idea.

'Leaves You Breathless'

2008-08-02T04:25:14Z

There's this great song about days going by without your noticing, until one day you look out the window and something there leaves you breathless and you suddenly realize it's been a while since you felt this, "but it feels like it might be hope."
That idea, that feeling of something jolting you out of the hum-drum existence is part of what I experienced today, driving out to the country. There's a tiny airport I have to pass on the way out to a friend's, and today it flew right over me, about to land.
It brought the first smile of the day to my face.
Then, on the way back, I looked out the car window and realized I could see the stars. That never happens where I live, near downtown.

However, I'm also forced to realize that my days are going to be boring for a while, because I'm training for my new job, and that takes up all my time and quite a bit of energy.
I probably even need to start studying - which I've never had to do for a job before.

But I keep dreaming of moments that will make life meaningful to me.

Oddballs - 2 chapters

2008-07-30T19:31:32Z

Fic Update!

Some would undoubtedly regard Haruhi and Tamaki’s plunge into the river that pivotal day as a reason for him to feel jealous or insecure, in the face of Haruhi’s devotion to their President.

Instead, he is quietly reassured.

Not just by Tamaki’s decision to stay with them, but also by the fact that Haruhi has chosen to face how precious the Host Club (and by definition all its members) are to her.

After all, if he is to ever have a chance to change her thinking, he will first have to know her scorn for the Host Club members has disappeared.

The extremes she has gone to today give him hope.

He mentally marks it as a turning point, but doesn’t feel the need to share this with anyone.

Kyouya’s never wasted pretty manners on Haruhi, not even after she had earned his respect.

This is because it is not necessary; it is because she could care less about the details of how upper class citizens should behave, and because she has already seen through the act.

He also knows that should he use friendly manners with her, Haruhi would only grow suspicious of some scheme.

Back when they had first met, Kyouya had intentionally revealed his own personal mask, though his initial reason was far different than the one motivating him now.

So he will not make the effort, because he’s looking farther down the line.

If Haruhi might ever be persuaded to choose him, after all, she will need to know exactly what she is taking on.

For now though, she is happy to be with them - all of them. And as she drips dry, her laughter is confirmation of that.

As the sun sets beyond the bridge, Kyouya makes another silent, personal note.

For the first time he’s willing. Willing, and quite possibly eager, to let someone else see it all, ready to take a chance on being chosen, or not

She wanders to the end of the porch as the sun is setting, watching the sky turn magnificent colors as night gently extends its reign.

Only when deep violet is left on the horizon does her companion emerge from the depths of the house.

He is older, and so cannot bear the sun’s late rays like she can.

This time, though, she thinks that his lateness springs from a different reason – he has been absorbed with a search for the past few days on his computer. He drifts to her side (she still has trouble, sometimes, with finding descriptors for how he moves, how she now moves), and gazes over the fields beyond them with unfocused eyes.

“Have you succeeded?” she asks, a little bored by now with only her own company and the silences.

That had been the reason he gave, after all, for his turning her.

She had been on her way home, late from work, when she had stumbled upon him in a fight with two men.

To this day she did not know what their purpose had been in engaging with him; druggies usually were too out of it to be violent, and the few moves she had seen were not slurred as a drunk’s would have been.

At the same time, they had worn no uniform and looked scruffy, at best.

Of course, then he had won and there’d been two bodies in the road, rather than two men, and he had turned to her.

She couldn’t imagine what her expression must have been, but he’d snarled at her – not something the faint of heart could bear with composure, or even a toughened street kid for that matter – and yet facing her death she’d been preternaturally calm.

Something of that must have cut through his rage to reach the intelligence that existed behind the fearful face, and he had trapped her against the nearest building with something like gentleness, his entire manner suddenly calmed.

She had further shocked them both by meeting his eyes – she hadn’t forgotten the warnings she had heard all her life, but for once her curiosity had overrode her caution.

The grip on her shoulder was firm but not painful, and so she had lifted her face to the one just above hers, only inches away.

Light gray eyes had stared back at her, a hint perplexed.

Haruhi had no idea how long they had stood there, examining each other, the two dead bodies forgotten behind him, as he seemed to read much more of her than she was able to of him.

He had finally given a short laugh, which was not at all as a human would have sounded, or even as anything normal should have sounded, and pulled away from her.

“I never thought to find someone like you by chance,” he’d said in cultured accents, but his voice was otherworldly and seemed to resonate in the air with a power of its own.

She had carefully kept herself from flinching at all of these things, and then tilted her head, intrigued.

Haruhi never returned home that night, and by the next nightfall, she had suffered through the change. She still had not worked out why she had agreed, for it wasn’t just because he could have easily killed her for her refusal.

He had been gracious about her new thirst and patiently taught her how to hunt.

They had stuck to animals, one of his first and only teachings.

“Feeding on humans is not worth the consequences,” he had said in such final tones that she neither felt the inclination to ask how he knew, nor to question what he had been about (other than hunting) in killing the men the night they had met.

Besides which, his mandate fit exactly her own preferences.

She’d been human much longer than she had been a vampire, and her character was such that even a change of species (it was easiest to think in scientific terms, she’d found), would not alter her values.

Now she looked at him, face and mind focusing.

“I’ve found traces of them,” he answered her, and she rocked on the balls of her feet, feeling the chance for a run approaching.

It was still hard for her old habits to conquer the new; this body required exponentially more movement than the old had, and the desire to hunt could still overwhelm her if she did not schedule nights to do just that.

“Are we going to search, then?” she inquired.

White teeth flashed in the growing darkness.

“Yes. For a vampire and a magic handler,” he said, finally deigning to explain to her what his weeks long preoccupation had been about.

One brow rose, but Haruhi didn’t question him further.

When there came a light touch on the back of her hand, she followed him onto the shadow pathways, her new nature catching hold of her with exhilaration.

Well, Haruhi thought to herself, this was surely more interesting than inventory.

A/N: This was a tribute to two of my favorite vampire tales: Sunshine by Robin McKinley and Twilight by Stephanie Meyer. If you haven’t read them, go, now.

A Lot Like Love

2008-07-30T04:06:38Z

I've been splurging on romance movies this week: My Blueberry Nights (starring Nora Jones and Jude Law), Wall-E (yes, I count it), You've Got Mail, Pride and Prejudice, A Lot Like Love (which I will be buying once the money starts coming in), Mr. & Mrs. Smith, I.Q. and Mama Mia!

Interestingly enough, it hasn't made me love-sick, which is a good thing; too often, romantic tales make me feel my singleness oh-so-badly.

All in all, I seem to have moved from devouring books to devouring movies. And all the writing I'm doing is not making it to the computer...

(I start work in one day!)

Wall-E

2008-07-20T06:57:41Z

The above movie would be my new love, my heart's duet (I've seen Enchanted one too many times) and the next movie I will buy, however many months that will take.

I can't put down here everything I loved about it; there's too much. However, I will say: Go.See.It.

We watched Miss Potter (I thought immediately 'Harry Potter?' when I glanced at the title) and I loved it. Great story, great acting, great touches, very sweet and tender.

I'm slowly becoming convinced that only the English countryside will do for my home after my few years of gallivanting about are done. I want to live there, write there, and possibly raise my hypothetical children there.

And possibly meet a nice man... just kidding.

But the place is so beautiful, the homes so inviting... I'm sure these emotions will be coming out in my writing soon. I have so many chapters waiting to be posted, if I could just get my computer to work and convince my editing side to work at it.

When You Taught Me How to Dance is a gem from the movie. Way to go Katie M, on putting words to the emotions I feel when I'm dancing.

Backways and Alleys: New Love

2008-07-09T05:46:06Z

I've been wandering the back paths of the internet, finding out that artistry flourishes in all kinds of wonderful, little-known places. This one is a place I should have stumbled upon long ago - Andrew Peterson created the site, but the spirit of it is created by all the different artists who journal and contribute here. If you can, listen to the songs they offer. I really enjoyed Sandra McCracken's redone hymns; but all kinds of books and music are recommended. I'm eager to hear more, for sure.

http://www.rabbitroom.com/?p=858#more-858

I first found Jason Gray through a Sara Groves song, and then Gray's site led me to The Rabbit Room. There I proceeded to wriggle like a puppy in joy, because this is the kind of artistry I adore, the kind of music that has been saving me from depression and the kind of people I want to someday work with.

I'll be listening to Downhere's album, called Wide-Eyed and Mystified for the next few days, and one by Ben Shive, who does all kinds of work with my favorite musicians; his own singing is different from his work for others, but I like it. It's called The Ill-Tempered Klavier, which he explains on the site is a joke about Bach, and the Well-Tempered Klavier, which was a collection of piano practices. I actually think I did some of them in my piano years.

These people are funny, serious, and all about breaking the mold. (I'm obviously in art-love with most of them now.) They are also great at opening their hearts and lives to the music they make, willing to go to the dirty and hard places to teach us all.

If you have more time, check out Any Gullahorn's lyrics. Blew me away. Wish I had money for his albums.

This one is a tribute to Peanuts. Very fun. Very brilliant.

http://www.rabbitroom.com/?p=866

caleb_moss @ 2008-07-02T16:23:00

2008-07-02T21:31:43Z

If anyone actually pays attention to this, you must read Megan Whalen Turner's series about Eugenides (The Thief, The Queen of Attolia and The King of Attolia). I haven't read a better trilogy in years, though getting through Trickster's Choice and Trickster's Queen came close - still, Attolia and Eugenides can't be beaten, even by such characters as the great Pierce comes up with. They're so complex and twisted and... yes, I'll shut up now. Just go read.

My list for this week:
Tamora Pierce's Trickster set
These Old Shades - Georgette Heyer
Arabella - Heyer
The Quest for the Fair Unknown - Gerald Morris
A Knot in the Grain - Robin McKinley
Travelling Mercies - Anne Lamott
Rose Cottage - Mary Stewart

My roommate comments that I'm tearing through books, which is ultimately true. I'm just storing up for the time when I'll be working. =D

Plots and Falling In Love

2008-06-27T05:44:37Z

Just finished reading The King of Attolia ~ unfortunately, I did not read The Thief or The Queen of Attolia first, though having met both characters, I want (need) to go back and read the others to get a better look into their heads. I first put this book on my must-read list because it was recommended as one of the few married romances out there, and I fully agree with the idea that married romance can be just as spectacular as love-leading-to-marriage. (In this case, I would say it exceeds even other favorites of mine.)

However, what several of my favorite authors have pointed out is that the best romances, the ones we return to and the ones that stay with us, are those that come alongside the adventure, and are not the adventure itself. I nodded sagely the first time I read this opinion, and I still nod, but with distinct awe, for those authors who can pull such stories off.

For example, though Georgette Heyer is seen as the mother of Regency romance novels, very often there is little actual romance in her books. ~~It took me longer than it should have to realize this.~~ There are mysteries and mistakes and folly, usually tied up in brilliant plots that have the hero and heroine separated, misunderstanding or hating each other for a good portion of the book. And yet it's no surprise when those same characters find their moment at the very last page, and really, that's all we need to be satisfied.

The same can be said of nearly every fairy tale I own, which is why I own them, though as I said, it's taken me years to realize this is why.

Anyways, what started me down this path was actually Jane Austen, and my continued thoughts about how conversation is what really moves a relationship (romantic or not) along. Regency Buck, one of Heyer's masterpieces, contains so many lines that kept tickling at my brain that I had to conclude that despite the very different characters and very different plot, Heyer definitely meant it as an accolade to Austen. Though I can't pinpoint every line she echoed, it was enough to make me pause and consider which book it must have been taken from. Pride and Prejudice figured firmly in many of the character's fights, insults and retorts the likes of which Darcy would have flinched from. Judith, however, is rich where Elizabeth is poor, and the couple has a very different kind of restraint to hold them back from a lover's relationship.

I'll end my thoughts on this here, and give you the other books I have consumed in the last day; each was a pearl that I dug through both lists and a tiny library for.

Keturah and Lord Death by Martine Leavitt (this woman has talent)
The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf by Gerald Morris (I plan on reading all of his Arthurian tales)
Faro's Daughter by Georgette Heyer
Regency Buck by Heyer
The King of Attolia by Megan Whalen Turner
The Chronicles of Chrestomanci by Dianne Wynn Jones (a little strange if you're not used to her)

Sensibility Overwhelmed

2008-06-26T06:55:03Z

So, I recently watched Sense and Sensibility, and I'd forgotten how much I love the movie (and how much potential there is for fanfiction!) So here is my version of Marianne's story, a character I always underrated and disliked in the face of Elinor's sense and sacrifice. I'll begin right before her marriage to Colonel Brandon, and end some time after it.

All characters and text used are the property of Jane Austen and Dell Publishing Co. (1959).

Sensibility Overwhelmed

Marianne Dashwood was born to an extraordinary fate. She was born to discover the falsehood of her own opinions, and to counteract, by her conduct, her most favourite maxims. She was born to overcome an affection formed so late in life as at seventeen, and with no sentiment superior to strong esteem and lively friendship, voluntarily to give her hand to another! - and that other, a man who had suffered no less than herself under the event of a former attachment, whom, two years before, she had considered too old to be married, - and who still sought the consitutional safeguard of a flannel waistcoat!

But so it was. Instead of falling a sacrifice to an irresistible passion, as once she had fondly flattered herself with expecting, - instead of remaining even for ever with her mother, and finding her only pleasures in retirement and study, as afterwards in her more calm and sober judgment she had determined on, - she found herself at nineteen, submitting to new attachments, entering on new duties, places in a new home, a wife, the mistress of a family, and the patroness of a village.

Colonel Brandon was now as happy, as all those who best loved him, believed he deserved to be; - in Marianne he was consoled for every past affliction; - her reagard and her society restored his mind to animation, and his spirits to cheerfulness; and that Marianne found her own happiness in forming his, was equally the persuasion and delight of each observing friend. Marianne could never love by halves; and her whole heart became, in time, as much devoted to her husband, as it had once been to Willoughby.

Chapter 1

Marianne had only just begun to consider the good fortune of being engaged to a man who is utterly concerned with only your own welfare.

Perhaps this revelation was a little late in coming; she had been engaged to Colonel Brandon for running on three months now, and though she knew very well that the decision to accept his offer had been her choice alone, she had not, at the time, fully considered the ramifications of it.

Elinor had long purported his good character, and in considering her past conduct, a blush rose to Marianne's cheeks.

She was conscious of a feeling of wonder at the Colonel's constancy; Willoughby had taught her to hesitate in her trust, and yet Colonel Brandon had had the advantage of her acquaintance for a longer time. Indeed, he had seen her at her very worst, and seen the careless way she had acted; it seemed more likely that he should have scorned her, than to have remained her friend, and it was this that started her thoughts moving when nothing else would.

Though the Colonel had begun the pattern of coming to them nearly as often as Edward did, in those days before her sister's wedding, she had been reserved - not just because of her gratitude to him for saving her life, but also the knowledge that he had been good to each member of her family, out of nothing more than his kindness. The gratitude she should feel, and often did feel, made it difficult to be herself around him, and had she but known it, she was even further removed from the girl she had been by the simple process of maturation, thanks to Willoughby's betrayal.

Brandon, however, took her reserve as the lingering of a sickness that, in fact, had made her quieter and less prone to running loose. Her modest behavior could not have pleased him more, excepting that his love was such that it could not but grow on feeling her willing reception of him.

He was not so unchivalrous as to think she had learned a lesson - he believed, somewhat justifiably, that she had grown up - and it was not inconceivable.

Marianne had not only learned the folly of her sensibility, but had grown to respect her sister's circumspect manner. Though she doubted her ability to attain it, she was, nonetheless, determined to be wiser, and to at least love her sisters more than she had before, by fixing her eyes upon their happiness.

All in the cottage, then, lived in the happiest of states, for they already cared deeply for one another, and the growing affection Marianne had for her suitor made them all happy to see. She spoke little of her thoughts, for Elinor's wedding was but a week away and preparations were constantly being made and altered, and Marianne felt that there would be time, later, to walk with Colonel Brandon and try to explain her new feelings - and she was conscious of feeling grateful yet again, for being able to know that in her confession she could only give him more happiness.

So it was that Marianne began to care not only for the Colonel's goodness, but also for his happiness, and with this attitude, she was in a fair way to loving him as well, if not better, than she had ever loved Willoughby.

Reading List

2008-06-25T06:47:35Z

I can only imagine that the few who read this are voracious readers, like myself. (At least I hope, if stretching my imagination doesn't work well enough).

It's so nice to find people who share your tastes in reading, who you know you can trust with book recommendations (yes Sara, I do mean you, though Sarah is also a favorite with me, as our shelves are nearly identical ~ I'm afraid you really can't claim that, though it's not to your discredit, hon), and who you can trust with your books.

(I've concluded I am too nice with who gets to borrow; just today I realized that two of my favorite finds have been borrowed for over two years, at least - what are the chances of my getting them back? Not very good. And they're several hours away. Urgh.)

But more than having nice real-life friends to recommend books to, the internet has opened up my favorite author's favorite book lists. Perhaps it seems I'm late on the draw here, but I always knew they existed, but avoided them on the semi-conscious knowledge that my outside life would come to a screeching halt if I didn't watch myself.

And yet, now that is where I have come to rest, and to despair of ever finishing the task set before me ~ to read every good book out there.

Of course I know, realistically, that it's impossible to read everything in the world; in fact, I don't want to. Reading The Odyssey three times was more than enough, though someday I'll read it to my children, and Arabian Nights is not as scandalous as what they sell in the romance section these days, but I've got to save my money for those necessary things like food and shelter, and I have long lists of books my fingers (and my credit card) are itching to buy. Nevermind that I haven't yet read them; the recommendations (i.e. recommendors) are enough to ensure that the few that make it into my tiny book of... books are keepers. (I won't mind losing my money when I die, but I'm going to hate leaving behind the books).

However, my most recent buys were ones I have read, and long ago decided I needed to own, when the price was right. So the recommendations continue (Sara, you better read at least one my recommendations this summer).

Daughter of the Forest, by Juliet Marillier
The Weather of the Heart, by Madeleine L'Engle (poetry)
Royal Palaces, editor M. Morelli (photos and facts)
(got free!!)

That last has been a trial to read; not only is the information about the palaces a little dry, the words are tiny. It seems ridiculous for that to be so, but perhaps the editor believes people will only be looking at the pictures, which isn't too far a stretch.

At the same time, I'm getting ideas. Ideas about stories that could occur in these palaces, and in the golden halls and lacquered chambers, and this isn't my time period, nor my kind of characters!.

On the other hand, I'm also fantasizing a lot, about myself in those hallways, weighted down with skirts and puffed sleeves and shawls, or whatever-else was required back then. (I seriously need a sewing machine ~ I would be willing to put the work into making those dresses ~ ~~I'll do one for you Sara, so that we can be silly old biddies together~~).

Oh, and Brittany agrees with me - we shall have an Austenland day at our bed-and-breakfast. I.E. Get to your research, woman!

Edit: I'm also trying to read The Bacchae and Other Plays by Euripides. I'm out of school - what do I think I'm doing?

Recommendations, of a sort

2008-06-16T21:10:42Z

Okay, I have to admit it, I've become terrified, sometime in the last four years, that I'm never going to marry. Never going to experience love, never going to find that (semi) perfect someone, never even going to have a man look at me as if I'm special.

Twenty-two years of only my daddy telling me I'm the prettiest ~ and though Dad needs to be there for those adolescent years of uncertainty, you girls all know the truth ~ he's Dad, so of course you're the most beautiful daughter. Heck, he can't even say 'most beautiful girl,' because there's Mom for that.

Anyways, this is all to say that I bought and read Shannon Hale's Austenland today, and it hit me in the gut. I'm sure on any other occasion, when I'm being less self-aware, it would be lovely and warm my heart, but oh-dear-goodness, Jane is me, ten or eleven years down the road.

Yet at the same time as I recognize this, I'm also given a glimpse of hope, because I haven't waited twenty-two years to settle, and even if all the 'good ones' are being picked up by less-deserving girls (as a study suggested), there's going to be at least one man someday who has hoped for one serious love, and life, and marriage (and everything that comes with it), and will be just as thrilled to meet me, who's been waiting (and waiting, and waiting... etc.) for him.

I just, you know, have to have faith, which has been completely lacking in recent times.

So for those who are rolling their eyes at yet another Jane-Austen fanatic who is determined to wait for her version of Mr. Darcy, *pffffft* to you, though I do hope you find love as well. But until then, go read Austenland. You won't regret it.

caleb_moss @ 2008-02-24T19:16:00

2008-02-25T02:12:41Z

It's nice to be reminded, every now and then, that there are guys who are willing to help you cook and clean after a meal. I say that because my father and brother would never voluntarily think to offer help, and yet two college-aged men not only brought dessert for the meal I made, but offered to help clean the dishes.

Yeah. You can just tell me the last time that happened to you.

So I went into a 3 hour car-wash quite pleased, despite the fact that I haven't had a moment to slow down all weekend. And now I must go and talk about philosophy and ethics...

caleb_moss @ 2008-02-21T10:55:00

2008-02-21T16:59:02Z

I'm feeling terrible, which means the little time I thought I'd have for writing this weekend is probably shot. It feels like months have gone by since I've been able to write, which isn't necessarily true... but all I want to do recently is sleep. And sleep.

I'm even tempted to sleep through this afternoon, though I've got a presentation, errands to run and dinner to cook. As well as singing and dancing practice - neither I want to do, considering I have a paper due tomorrow that I haven't even started.

I don't want my life anymore. (but that could just be the intense pain in my back talking)

caleb_moss @ 2008-02-06T16:37:00

2008-02-06T22:45:35Z

Sometimes it's a great and wonderful thing to have an ear, (so to speak) in the publishing world; other days, it's extremely stressful. (s-bear, you know what I mean).

It wasn't so much work I couldn't handle, but requests that were sensitive to the situation. It was like that Ouran episode, where the twins are fighting and Haruhi is just sitting beneath the stuff in the air.. that was what today felt like, and thankfully nothing fell on me - but it made me a little twitchy to watch (and hear).

And I'm back to reading chris dee's marvels; specifically, Cat-Tales, her extremely long series about Batman and Catwoman. Normally, reading fanfiction for comics is not my thing, but, well, I have to make an exception in this case, because the way she writes them is absolutely superb - because it's 99% real life and 1% superheroes. Pretty much, I could walk into their world, because it's that fleshed out and their characters are so minutely explored.

I highly encourage reading the first Cat-Tales, or even the second... it will catch you up in their wonderfully witty and battle-filled romance. =D

I know, I know, I need to get around to finishing either the next Mafia or Hitsuzen, but that requires time to sit down and think.

caleb_moss @ 2008-02-02T15:54:00

2008-02-02T22:04:14Z

I have to admit, looking at my challenge table, I am quite pleased with myself. (I'll probably be humbled from my pride before the day is out, though).

But I've hit fifty!

When I started, I had intended to see the challenge through to the end, but I'm still surprised by the fact that, more than a year later, I'm still working at it. I mean, I picked it up as a whim, with no clue to the kind of work and fun and headaches it was going to bring. And I think (and hope) that the exercise has stretched me as a writer.

There's only so much you can write on Kyouya based on what's revealed in the manga - though a year has given me more material (thanks Bisco!) - before you have to break out of the box and start running with only his core character to guide you. Same goes for Haruhi, though she's less explosive outside the box. (thank goodness)

It will be nice, however, to finish this out and look at other characters to develop - especially girls. Haruhi is so strict with me. She doesn't embarass easily AT ALL, or brood much, or have long trains of revealing thoughts. It makes it hard, sometimes. (Sakura is so opposite her in so many ways - outspoken, easily put to the blush, full of complexities and issues... much easier to write =)

And Kaoru and Kenshin are patient, but not THAT patient. They want their stories finished as well, and I don't blame them.

Large upload of scenes

2008-02-02T21:30:14Z

Here's my complete Lawsuit series, plus other scenes I haven't gotten around to putting up here.

Number 37: Office

Lawsuit: In the Office

“Haruhi, are you free?”

Haruhi looked up from a few papers she had been discussing with one of the secretaries and turned her attention to her boss.

“Yes,” she replied after exchanging glances with Megumi-san. “Is there something you need?”

Sarada-san, one of the lawyers who owned the firm, waved her over.

“I’d like your help with a client; this case looks manageable for you, and Endo-san and I are too busy with that fashion case,” he ended with a disgruntled mutter.

Haruhi didn’t ask – hadn’t asked – about the complicated case of mixed fashion rights that two companies were arguing (loudly) over. She merely nodded, and followed along.

Sarada-san briefed her quickly about the case she was walking into – a malpractice suit; the hospital was asking their help to defend the doctor.

“Ootori-san, Kato-san, this is Fujioka,” he introduced them right away, mere seconds after opening the door on one of their larger conference rooms. “She’ll help you sort out a few things and then we’ll have a better idea of how to begin your defense. Please excuse me,” he said, and, in Haruhi’s personal opinion, scooted out much faster than was normal or polite.

Turning to the two men, she bowed. “I’m honored to work with you,” she said automatically, trained to treat all of their clients with respect in speech as well as action. However, the words seemed to catch at the dark-haired man’s attention, and he straightened up, looking at her in a critical manner.

“Could I look over the filed suit?” she asked, and was a little surprised when the paler man, with light brown hair produced the papers, a little wrinkled, from his coat.

Haruhi took her first good look at him, and realized that he was wearing a lab coat, rather than a suit jacket like the other man.

“Kato-san is one of our surgeons,” Ootori-san inserted quietly. “I am in charge of the surgeons,” he added, as thought to explain his presence.

“How long have you worked here?” he asked abruptly, and though the question was quite rude, she answered evenly.

“I’ve been with Sarada-san and Endo-san for two years, and my internship through university was with them before that,” she said, meanwhile smoothing out the papers from Kato-san.

Ootori-san nodded, looking a bit distracted.

Haruhi read over the complaint lodged by one of Kato-sensei’s patients, and the doctor’s own report about the case. She was aware of at least one pair of eyes on her the whole time, but concentrated on examining the problem at hand.

After reading it through carefully, there seemed to be nothing that would be a problem for her, but that could change as the legal process went on.

“Until Kazuma-san contacts us about a court date, we’ll wait to schedule our next consultation,” she began to explain, pulling out a few forms they would need to begin the necessary paperwork, when a phone began to ring.

Ootori-san checked it, and then apologized. “Please excuse me; I need to take this,” he said and left the room.

“Ah, Kato-san, if you could fill this out, as well,” Haruhi said, handing him another sheet.

“You didn’t realize, did you,” that man said, instead, and Haruhi paused to look at him, confused.

“Ootori-san, I mean” he clarified, shooting a glance at the closed door. “He’s not just in charge of the surgeons; he’s in charge of all the surgeons, at all the hospitals.”

When her face still didn’t clear, he sighed with exasperation.

“Ootori Kyouya,” he emphasized. “One of Ootori-san’s sons.”

Haruhi finally made the connection he meant; the Ootori name in medical fields was practically a brand name, but she shrugged despite that, still not understanding why he had brought it up.

“Does that change your case somehow?” she asked, wondering if he was worried about his position. He gave her an uncertain look.

“No…” he hedged, seeming confused himself, by her question and lack of reaction.

“Ah, good,” she said. “You’ll still need to fill these out.”

He took the papers she handed him this time, but after taking a pen, just stared at her, lost.

“Excuse my rudeness.” Ootori-san’s voice brought Kato-san back to earth, and with a start, he bent his head over the papers with apt attention.

“It was no problem,” Haruhi told him easily, and handed over very similar papers to Ootori-san. “Now, if you would just look over our basic contract here…”

Number 44: Benign

Lawsuit: Patience

"Kyouya, is there something you're not telling me about Kato's case?" his father asked him one day as their corporate meeting let out.

Kyouya, ready to leave to attend his next business, changed his stance and faced his father, ignoring his brother's curious looks.

"No," he responded, and then tilted his head, a fraction of an inch to the side. "Is something wrong?"

Ootir Yoshi analyzed his son, just a little proud of that calm face.

"You've never shown such attention to a malpractice suit before," he finally commented. "It's concerned a few of our investors. And I must admit some interest as well."

Kyouya stiffened, not having previously considered what it might mean if his father was wondering about his division - or more precisely, his business.

"There is nothing to be worried about with Kato," he assured his father. "I'm merely finding the legal process quite intriguing."

And he hoped that that would be the end of his father's curiosity.

But three days later, he heard his brothers talking at the breakfast table, before he walked through the door.

"A girl?" The incredulous voice was his second-oldest brother.

"That is what father said," a calmer, more rational voice replied - his eldest brother.

"But Kyouya never notices women..."

He hadn't stayed to listen to any more - it was enough to cause mild panic that his father would have gone so far as to investigate the firm and find out about Fujioka.

He didn't want to guess at what he might have said to Sarada-san or Endo-san, or even (please, no) Fujioka-san.

And yet, despite his trepidation and the caution that pounded in his rational mind, he went to the next meeting a day later.

Fujioka was the same as ever - focused, professional - and utterly fascinating. She was also, as usual, utterly unaware of his observations.

For now, he was perfectly fine with that, Kyouya thought, watching as a long strand of hair, fallen from the sloppy bun, was pushed roughtly behind her ear.

He took a few notes and proceeded to observe.

Fascinating.

Number 98: Persist

Lawsuit: Conflicting Interests

Kyouya had attended every meeting with their lawyer, though technically, only Kato-san had been necessary for the later sessions.

The truth was, he admitted three weeks to the day they’d met, he couldn’t stop himself.

At first he had been irritated that Sarada-san would dare to put a request from the Ootori organization onto a rookie’s plate, and had even intended to take their case and money elsewhere.. but then Fujioka-san had entered the picture… and he couldn’t help but go, every single time.

It was making Kato-san nervous – even more nervous than normal; his (close) attention to the case was unprecedented.

Kato-san was always anxious over something or another, but he was a brilliant surgeon. It was the only reason why Kyouya had decided to keep him on, even through the mess of a malpractice suit.

“The court date has been set a little over a month from now,” Fujioka was saying as he entered the room.

Her dark brown eyes flicked to him, acknowledging his arrival, and then away. As she continued to explain the progress, he took in her hair, done up in the usual sloppy bun; after the first few hours of looking at her, he’d wondered why she kept it so long when she obviously didn’t care about it.

Wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, smudged from being pushed up by absent fingers.

… And he was looking far too closely for comfort. Kyouya turned his attention determinedly to what she was saying.

“Unless Suzuki-san finds some medical evidence that supports his claims, there should be nothing to worry about,” she assured them.

“Be certain of that, Fujioka,” Sarada-san warned. “Ootori-san, good to see you,” he greeted the younger man, in a much lighter tone.

Kyouya talked with him for a few moments, for the sake of the company’s relationship with thefirm, but aware all the while of Kato speaking privately with Fujioka. She patted his arm after a minute and he looked relieved, and with a final glance at his “absorbed” boss, he left.

Kyouya deftly wrapped up Sarada’s conversation for him with the skill of a master; the older associate was smiling as he slid out the door a step after Fujioka.

“Fujioka-san, I appreciate your efforts on our behalf,” he called out to her, inwardly pleased when she slowed down to walk at his side – first goal accomplished.

“It’s my job,” she said, a little surprised by the effort he had been putting in.

“Still,” he insisted. “it isn’t often that one of our cases is wrapped up so easily.”

“It’s not won yet,” she cautioned him, but he waved her concerns aside with one slender hand.

“All the evidence support’s Kato, and you’ve found a strong point to defend from,” he said; nothing she didn’t already know, but it was rare that Kyouya was impressed.

Haruhi shrugged, a little uncomfortable with the praise – but then, she always was.

“Is there any chance you would be free for dinner tomorrow night?” he asked, and his tone was so casual it took a few moments for the words to sink in.

She stopped walking, staring at him in surprise.

“We’re not encouraged to associate with clients outside of the office,” she told him; the invisible rule the first objection to pop into her head. “Not like that, I mean,” she explained, becoming just a little flustered by her own confusion.

But it had come from nowhere, she thought, reassured.

Kyouya took his time in considering her response, for all that it was a refusal, keeping pace with her as she strode down the main hallway.

“What about when our case is over?” he finally asked softly, and Haruhi’s attention was jerked back up to him.

Realizing that he was quite serious, she could only shrug, wondering why he wanted to bother.

“Well, then.” He bowed respectfully. “I will see you in a month.”

Number 24: String

Lawsuit: Red String of Fate

The case had gone almost exactly to plan, and Haruhi was feeling the odd rush that came with a job well done.

She was also exhausted; some new evidence had been brought forward days before their court date, and it had taken a few sleepless nights to prove that the x-rays were not from the time when Suzuki-san had been under Kato-sensei’s care.

“Congratulations,” came a low, unfamiliar voice, and Haruhi turned to find Ootori-san standing there, looking obnoxiously relaxed.

His confidence could be construed as flattering, at the very least, she thought wryly, and wondered how long he had been present. Even though it hadn’t been necessary for him to be a part of the actual trail proceedings, she had been sure, from the type of personality he’d displayed, that he would be there, needing to oversee everything.

“I’m sorry I was late,” he apologized unexpectedly, confirming that he had been planning to be there the whole time. “There was an emergency at the hospital.”

“It was fine,” she said, without really thinking. “We didn’t need you.”

His eyes creased – in another man, it would have been a smile, but she still shook her head.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” she apologized, just a tad frustrated that her words never came out exactly as they should with this man.

“No, no, please be honest,” he insisted, and it took her a moment to understand that he was joking.

Haruhi didn’t know what to make of it, or him.

“I was going to suggest dinner,” he continued, “but you don’t look hungry.”

She was just a tad bit annoyed at his perceptiveness, and also the polite maneuvering of implying but not saying that she looked tired, as well as the allusion to his previous invitation.

“Tomorrow,” he said, smiling slightly when she gave him a confused look. “Six o’clock.”

“It’s my day off!” she protested, scrambling for some refusal he would take.

“Perfect,” he murmured instead, before moving off to talk to Kato-san.

“Haruhi felt the inevitable like a door clanging shut behind her, and wondered why, out of all the arrogant, upper class men in Tokyo, she had to be continuously thrown off balance by that one.

Number 43: Joke

Lawsuit: (You've Got to Be) Joking

The first time Kyouya saw Haruhi in a dress, he nearly spit out his wine onto the pristine white tablecloth in front of him.

It wasn’t so much the shock of the dress, but the shock of not recognizing her on the first look, she was that… different.

He forced his eyes away, swallowed, and then turned back around.

The fact that she was wearing a dress in the first place was enough to make him blink, but he noted that her hair was down and flowed in loose curls around her face.

For once, he couldn’t make a decision – he didn’t know what to look (stare) at, or if he should try to recover his manners and not look at all.

His gaze went to her legs and the decision was made for him; Haruhi’s normal wardrobe consisted of baggy slacks, a button up shirt covered by a jacket, and her hair shoved up in any way that would hold. If not for the long hair and wide eyes, she would’ve fit right in with the rest of her male colleagues, most days.

The figure she was revealing tonight, though, could never be mistaken for a man’s.

The host escorting her to his table seemed to be surreptitiously noticing that, too.

Kyouya glared at him, and lost the last few seconds of observing her before she sat down.

Despite how nicely she was dressed, she looked haggard.

“Sorry I’m late,” she apologized, having missed his perusal and the ensuing possessive male defense. “I got caught up with a case, and then…” She sighed, and then touched her hair self-consciously.

“And then?” he prompted, back in control now that there wasn't so much to distract him.

“My father was home,” she muttered, and shoved a curl behind her ear as though to punish it for her changed appearance.

“I see,” Kyouya murmured – and he did. Having met Fujioka senior once when he’d gone to pick her up, he’d suddenly understood a bit more about Haruhi’s demure look.

It was a passive – but powerful – resistance to her father’s effeminate ways.

“What was the case about?” he asked, and she gratefully took up the subject of work as the first course came.

She would only accept his paying for meals, so he was, week by week, taking her to every nice restaurant in town. Surprisingly enough, Haruhi seemed to enjoy it.

They’d moved on to other things (and the main course) when Kyouya spotted someone else, and wished he had picked a less conspicuous place to eat this week.

There was no way he could ignore him or avoid speaking with him, especially not as the man was approaching with yet another acquaintance on his arm.

“Ootori-san, good evening,” he said, voice smooth and light, face alive with curiosity. "It's been a while."

Kyouya gave a small sigh, standing up to extend a hand. "It has." And as manners dictated, he began the introductions.

"Haruhi, this is Suou-san. Suou-san, this is Fujioka-san."

"It's wonderful to meet you," the blonde enthused immediately, taking Haruhi's hand and shaking it eagerly. "I've never seen Ootori-san willingly take a woman out to dinner," he added, winking outrageously at her. "And please let me introduce Kazuki-san to you."

The woman on his arm bowed shyly, glanced in Kyouya's direction and then blushed. She didn't look at him again, but smiled easily enough at Haruhi.

Well, Kyouya thought, noticing something else with a touch of amusement, that explained why it had been so easy to break off his father's plans for an omiai with the Kazuki family; Kazuki herself had wanted something different.

Since Suou looked content to stand there with his date until more information was provided, Kyouya explained briefly how they had bet.

"Sarada and Endo?" Suou asked, surprised. "But isn't that the firm Kaoru and Hikaru are using?"

"Ah, do you mean Hitachiin-san and Hitachiin-san?" Haruhi asked, Kyouya's patience with the interruption took a nose dive.

"You've met them?" he asked sharply, disturbed at the thought of what mischief the two could wreck with Haruhi so oblivious.

"I'm helping Endo-san with the last of their paperwork," she explained, and tilted her head to the side in a way that, hair down, was utterly charming. "Do you know them?"

"Unfortunately," Kyouya muttered as he wondered who else was going to pop out of the woodwork to disrupt his evening. He scowled, and the other three took note, but didn't remark on it.

After a few more teasing remarks from Suou, they moved off to their own table and Kyouya and Haruhi sat back down.

"So..." she began. "A friend of yours?"

Kyouya made a face, and then smiled in unconscious response to her - it was probably the first time Haruhi had tried to joke with him.

He shrugged. "I suppose he's better than others."

"Oh?" she inquired, but he shook his head, determined that the rest of the evening was going to be spent talking about them.

Number 64: Rough

Haruhi was enjoying Almack’s.

She hadn’t expected to, not from the comments Lords Ootori and Hitachiin made, but because of their disgust with the sea of white-wrapped debutantes, they hadn’t shown up.

So she was blissfully free to talk to whoever she liked, and to stroll around with her glass of lemonade and turn down dance offers.

“Miss Fujioka,” came the voice of one of her hostesses. “If I may…”

Haruhi turned and smiled at the older woman, and turned a polite face to two young men, one very tall, and one very short, who stood behind her.

“I believe I have the distinct pleasure of introducing you to Lord Morinozuka and Viscount Kayrou, Lord Haninozuka,” she said, raising her eyebrows at the young woman. Haruhi didn’t remember seeing them at any other gatherings, and curtsied, wondering why she was being singled out.

As polite talk ensued, the hostess’s smile dimmed; there seemed to be nothing gossip-worthy going on between the three, and when someone else beckoned, she left with only one regretful glance.

“Miss Fujioka,” the short man bowed with a shy smile. “It’s very nice to meet you. Our friends have spoken of you so often, we felt it was necessary to seek you out.”

Inside, Haruhi’s expression froze.

“Your friends?” she inquired, hoping against hope…

“Ah, yes,” he nodded enthusiastically. “Suou-chan and Hita-chan are always talking about you.”

Haruhi wondered exactly how rude it would be if she was to back away.

“We don’t often come to town,” came a low voice, and Haruhi realized it was the first time the tall man had spoken.

“Oh?” she asked, sincere curiosity stopping her thoughts of retreat. “Then what’s the special occasion?”

The two exchanged uneasy glances, and Haruhi felt the first stirrings of compassion. They looked just like the young men who were standing around the floor, surreptitiously fingering their neck cloths, their attendance forced by hen-pecking mothers.

“Well, you see, the thing is…” Lord Haninozuka babbled, looking even more anxious. "It's not that..."

“Mitsukuni must marry,” Lord Morinozuka explained bluntly.

Haruhi blinked in surprise.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” came the plaintive agreement from the blond, who was now slumped even lower. “I don’t even know any women except for Mother, but Father insisted that it had to be this year… so when Suou-chan talked about you, Takashi thought you might be able to help.”

The dark-haired man turned a bit red at having his suggestion stated to the woman concerned, but didn’t withdraw the words, either.

“Help?” Haruhi asked, not quite understanding.

“Yeah!” Lord Haninozuka seemed to gain confidence now that their intentions had been stated. “Because you know some women, right?”

Haruhi had a hard time, holding back an incredulous laugh.

“I suppose that’s true,” she reluctantly agreed.

“Yay!” There was no chance of not being charmed by the shorter man, who was looking like a different person new hope for himself as he neatly bounced in place. The simple faith that his problems could be solved so easily was refreshing, if not misplaced.

“Thank you,” Lord Morinozuka said, and the relieved gratitude in his expression turned Haruhi’s reluctance into sudden purpose.

Well, she thought with amused resignation, she had been wanting something to do.

Number 18: Numbered

Somehow or another, she had gotten paired with Lord Ootori at Lady Trevsham’s picnic. The estate was a little ways out of London, but the drive was always worth it (Society said) because the grounds were so beautiful.

Over lunch, Haruhi had been able to break up the conversation between the others at their table, but once the group had finished, the walk to the lake was made in pairs.

Haruhi wasn’t so remiss as to moan, but the small smile on Lord Ootori’s face did not bode well.

Polite talk was held as they walked behind a couple who had become engaged last week, until the distance became far enough between them that Kyouya could begin his interrogation.

Of course, he hadn’t considered it such at first, until Miss Fujioka began to look tired. Tired of his company, that is.

With sudden and unusual thoughtfulness, he changed the topic of her schooling to that of business, something at least her father shared him common with him. And with all the time he had spent recently near the man, he had heard enough clues dropped about this woman’s intelligence.

“Does your father plan on enlarging his holdings?” he asked, and she blinked in surprised, looking ready to give the normal (correct) response for young ladies of the ton – ‘I wouldn’t know’ – but she pursed her lips and considered him, and then looked forward to watch were they were going.

“Yes.”

Her unequivocal statement made him grin, a very odd happenstance for Kyouya, and he schooled his face before she looked back to him. “Why do you ask?”

Her bluntness, perhaps unconsciously, released him to be just as straightforward, and their conversation became quite involved, ranging from their views on the growing middle class, to the dependency on merchant ships, to the importance of demand and the quality of supplies, the place of factories and training...

After what seemed like minutes, Haruhi noticed that she hadn't seen the backs of their companions in quite some time. She looked ahead, and saw water through the trees.

Wasn't the walk to the lake supposed to take close to an hour? she wondered to herself.

She turned to ask Lord Ootori about it, and was realized he was still talking, face more animated than she had ever seen, his eyes bright and sharp with intelligence.

It was a jolt to the system, to suddenly be aware that he was attractive, and not just objectively cataloging him as handsome.

"Don't you agree?" he asked, and she nodded instictively, not wanting to interrupt him, or worse, let him notice her distraction.

"Do you think the others are far ahead?" she asked, not caring that she had abruptly changed the subject; she wasn't feeling comfortable in her skin, a very rare happenstance.

He blinked, mentally changing tracks.

"They're probably at the folly, to the right of the path near the lake," he explained, one elegant hand pointing to the place. The rest of the walk was silent, both occupied with thoughts of the other, one thinking how perfect a wife she was going to be (once she realized the inevitability of it), and the other wondering at her strange reaction to a person who had caused none in the whole of their previous acquaintance.

And yet, she can't help but be pleased that she's engaged in a real conversation, finally. And she can't help but wonder why he's hid himself until today.

Number 34: Leave

Watanuki had been surprised (and surely, someday, he would stop being surprised) by how much a wardrobe – no, scratch that – Yuuko’s wardrobe, could change a person.

Haruhi (as she had requested he call her) now looked like a cute young woman, rather than an androgynous (though still cute) young adult.

The dress Yuuko had forced on her was the height of fashion these days; Watanuki knew, because Himawari-chan had been talking about going shopping earlier that week and shown him a picture of what she'd planned to buy.

He glanced at Haruhi, and wondered how her hair could look… softer than before when he knew Yuuko had not touched it.

With a start, he realized Haruhi had stopped walking, and was looking through an intricately wrought iron gate. She pushed at it, and with a creak it opened.

With much trepidation, he followed her inside, and stared at the mansion before them with foreboding .

Haruhi glanced at him, and considered telling him it would be all right, but guessed from experience that the words would be useless in reassuring him.

“Do you sense anything?” she asked, curious to his abilities, and the reasons Ichihara-san might have sent him along with her.

“… Roses,” he finally said. “It smells like roses.”

They both glanced around. No rose bushes were in evidence, just green grass and the stately mansion’s somewhat intimidating façade.

“I see,” she said. Watanuki sent her a disbelieving look; Haruhi ignored it.

“I suppose we’ll have to ring the bell,” she decided, and strode forward. With a small yelp, Watanuki ran to catch up with her.

He didn’t hear anything when she pressed the button, but then, the house was supposedly haunted. It took a lot not to run screaming when the door opened by itself, and he suspected it had something to do with the no-nonsense aura his companion was putting out.

They stepped inside, and looked around. It was like walking into some English tearoom, Watanuki thought with awe, misgivings set aside for a moment at the sight of such civility (and lack of ghosts or spirits).

“Hey, now…!” came a surprised voice to the right, and they looked over to see a group of men staring at them. One, a blond, had stood up from a grouping of chairs, and seemed ready to walk over.

Watanuki wondered what they were doing, meeting in a haunted house, when the smell of roses suddenly got stronger, and then turned… wrong.

He covered his nose and mouth surreptitiously as the man drew closer, looking caught between a frown and delight. Watanuki didn’t miss the way his gaze darted between the young woman and himself, fluctuating moods accordingly.

“We’re closed right now,” the blond said with regret, and without thinking, Watanuki stepped slightly behind the short woman.

“Really,” Haruhi said, but her tone was more like significant doubt. “Fortunately, I’m not here as a customer.”

A cough drew their attention back to the group, and another man who was approaching. Watanuki felt a sudden shiver go down his back.

“Customer or not, it would be rude to keep you standing,” he said in pacifying tones, and Watanuki could have sworn his glasses shone at them – and not in a friendly way.

“Of course, something to drink!” the blond suddenly enthused, and then dragged Haruhi (and by association Watanuki) over to a table. “I am Tamaki, head of this charming establishment, this is Kyouya, and they are Hikaru, Kaoru, Honey and Mori,” he introduced quickly, pointing to each one. “Is there something we can get you, princess?” he asked, acting in complete opposition to his earlier words.

“Anything is fine,” Haruhi said after a pause, and within minutes the two twins, Kaoru and Hikaru, were setting out beautiful cups and plates. A shorter blond, who Watanuki had first mistaken as a child, sidled up to them.

“Do you like cake?” he asked, eyes wide and curious. Watanuki almost relaxed at the innocence radiating from him, but then he happened to meet Haruhi’s gaze over the table, and her mouth narrowed.

“I like strawberry,” she told him, and the eyes widened with sudden delight.

“Okay!” he all but shouted, and darted off. Haruhi sighed.

“Is there something we can do for you?” came the earlier voice – Kyouya - and this time Watanuki didn’t miss the suspicion in the tone.

“Yes, actually,” Haruhi said as the shortest came tripping back out with what looked like a giant slice of pink cake. “I would appreciate it if you would move on from this world.”

Number 99: Kindness

Small Kindnesses

“I’m a selfish person,” he said quietly, and Haruhi paused, an onigiri halfway to her mouth.

“Um…” she glanced around, wondering why no one else appeared to be in the close vicinity to interrupt this strange conversation. Then she realized he was waiting for a response from her. “Yes?” she tried; no one could ever claim that lying was a trait of hers.

“I’m not like Tamaki,” he continued, mostly ignoring her response as he looked out over the school lawn. “I don’t care about everyone I meet. Ninety-five percent of people are idiots.”

Haruhi set her rice ball down to rub at her forehead tiredly.

“But,” he said. “I want the people who have become important to me to be happy.”

She blinked, hand falling to her lap.

“Ahh,” she said, and he finally glanced at her, a wry look on his face.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I’m glad,” she said, and he looked surprised. “I was wondering if you would recognize it.”

He watched as she stretched back on the cool grass, apparently finished with her usual, unconsciously cryptic statements. The onigiri was retrieved and she chewed it leisurely. His mouth kicked up into an unwilling smile, and he let her enjoy the break from routine and noise.

And Kyouya wondered if she knew that he afforded her that courtesy only because she was one of his important people.

caleb_moss @ 2008-01-10T17:09:00

2008-01-10T23:16:48Z

It's been a while, and I've been busy in several ways, and lazy in quite a few more.

It's becoming a (huge) pain to post the 100 situation stuff here and at the challenge site, when (I'm sad to say) it's much easier to do on ff.net. Plus, I actually get feedback at ff.

At the same time, I don't want to not post my chapters here, in the off chance that someone only reads them here. Though this is highly unlikely.

In writing news, Hitsuzen is still giving me a headache. It's like trying to straighten out knotted barbed wire. I am not kidding. The easy plot I began with somehow morphed into this monster (though I deserved that for trying to put xxxHolic with Ouran). Mafia is coming along nicely, though the characters keep trying to deviate from a)their actual personalities and b)their mafia personalities. That might seem strange, but keeping the slightly different characters in my head when they want to run off and become happy is, again, a hard job.

I keep wanting to retreat to Regency, where I know what the last few chapters contain, and have the basic outlines, and even a few detailed conversations. Which makes it easier for me to ignore the hard work and just have fun.

I think I'll start writing at a faster pace once classes start, because I'll have some motivation to escape schoolwork. Hopefully. I really, really, REALLY want to finish before graduation. A little present to myself. Then I'll start my masterpiece this summer. (Just kidding).

But it will be nice to have this done and concentrate on other stories that have come to mind, and finish those that only have one or two chapters up.