Post by skys on Sept 11, 2006 9:17:28 GMT -5
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my morbid and overactive imagination.
Summary: In the Changed Future Bianca falls in love – reluctantly.
[glow=red,2,300]TWO FOR TRAGEDY[/glow]
Author: Sky Samuelle
Redeem me into childhood
Show me myself without the shell
Like the advent of May
I’ll be there when you say
Time to never hold our love
- My fall will be for you -
My fall will be for you
My love will be in you
You were the one to cut me
So I’ll bleed forever
From - Ghost Love Score- by Nightwish
Their story began a spring night in New York, almost for accident.
She was trailing a target – the wandering consort of an ancient Master Vampire- and while she kept her distance to escape the senses of her prey, waiting the right moment to attack and tasting those precious heartbeats suspended between the ambush and the kill, he disrupted her routine by presenting himself as the next meal of her future victim.
Bianca was been actually relieved, because her strategy included beheading the demon as she fed: it wasn’t a matter of cowardice, but it would be unwise putting on alert a vicious, petty creature like a two centuries old vampire.
She remembered of watching them flirting and deriding the ingenuity of that pretty mortal boy who was following the vampire right to the most isolated corner of whole the park, like a lamb licking the hand of its butcher.
The young Phoenix had prepared herself to intervene but the boy had surprised her: as soon he was sure they were enough out of public way, he had stepped back and attacked his companion without hesitation, proving that he had been planning it since he was been accosted.
As freelance assassin, cool blood and fast thinking were two qualities which Bianca was been taught to keep in highest consideration, so really it wasn’t her fault if her first impression of Christopher Halliwell was positive. She had lingered among the shadows, deciding to allow the other witch to tire her target a little before stepping in and finishing the job, and had observed him conjuring repeatedly little spheres of sunlight to dust the vampire, who kept dematerializing in a grey mist an instant before being hit and condensing again few seconds after.
In defending himself the unknown boy displayed a rough, street-smart hand to hand technique learnt from experience (effective, even if it certainly didn’t compare to a Phoenix artful dancing with death) and an extensive knowledge of spells. He acted fast without being careless, and Bianca was almost sorry she had to plunge her athame inside the vampire’ heart and take the merit for rescuing him. Then he had once and again done something of unexpected, smiling and thanking her like if she had truly saved his life and not interrupted a fight he was obviously enjoying.
He had been glad of meeting another witch apparently and had offered her a coffee.
Even today, Bianca couldn’t say what had motivated her to accept.
After all, she had known that between the Phoenixes and the ‘OTHER’ kind of witches there was an gap as deep as the one separating them from mortals: her coven was born from the ashes of Salem, when her ancestors had swore to never forget the horrors of the Trials, to never again stand between demons and Innocents- because for a Phoenix, no mortal would never been considered innocent again. Her kind lived by that oath uttered in vengeance and maintained throughout contemptuous indifference, only serving the Coven’s benefit, only breeding among their people or with other magical creatures (mostly demons) to maintain their blood pure, untainted from mortal influences.
Being a Phoenix meant believing this legacy of power and death, vengeance and independence which was an abyss away from the Greater Design served by good witches or from the petty fantasies of grandeur cultivated from evil witches.
So Bianca had always known nothing good or lasting could come out from letting Chris think they had something in common, but she had still done it. She was attracted to boys like him – with dark hair, light eyes and sexy mouths ready to smirk- and she had felt like he owed her the entertainment she had missed.
How quickly things had spiralled out of her control: by the date’s end, she already didn’t know nothing else of Chris except that he had an obsessive interest in Demon Classification and Spell-casting, studied at the New York University because his family was adamant about having him enjoying his youth in the most carefree manner possible until he was still able to, and revelled in demon-hunting. He didn’t seem to feel threatened by her power or her opinions, however different they could be, and he wasn’t intimidated or put off their four-year age difference.
As a matter of fact, Chris acted like if very few things could put him off- like if he had a centre of balance of his own and nothing could shake it. He bore himself with an air of solidity and strength.
Before she left him, Bianca wondered how he kissed and she knew she wanted to see him again.
So when Chris invited her to join the small coven of his university campus for the Ostara celebrations, it didn’t seem wrong to accept.
And when they kept seeing each other, Bianca kept repeating to herself that it wasn’t serious and thus there was no true necessity to tell him *all* the truth.
It was enough that they both liked rough shags; strong cocktails and long nights spent talking, walking or discussing spells rituals and potion-making.
Bianca took seven dates to confess him she came from San Francisco as well, but Chris didn’t act upset at all. He took it in stride, like if he had been expecting something like that from her, and she found she liked the sensation of being understood by him, even if the same level of intimacy would have made her uncomfortable with anybody else.
When he was absorbed by his exams and she was taken with her jobs, it grew difficult to not long for his lips and hands and sarcastic remarks.
When he was with her, it grew difficult to not let her senses were overwhelmed by his presence and allow all the rotten things of the universe to fade away.
Yet she would not believe it was love.
The only love she had known it was the profound belonging and reverential admiration she had felt for her mother before she died.
It had not anything to do with the clenching of her stomach every time Chris’s green eyes lighted up when he spotted her, or turned his head toward her few seconds before she actually entered in a room.
Love wasn’t the shyness Bianca felt around him sometimes, when he talked about his loud, overbearing and too numerous family and noticing how he loved them, even if they didn’t always understood him, and she realized she was not never been loyal to someone in that measure which went beyond any failure or weakness .
Love definitely was not the violent urge to punch him she felt when Chris grew a bit too caught his thousand little projects, especially if they put him stupidly in harm’s way.
It simply could not be.
Yet there was a barely suppressed intensity about him, in his capacity to have an all-or-nothing- response to things and people and in eagerness to put his beliefs into practice, his incapacity to do anything half-way, colouring with a lightly manic edge everything he did – she admired it like she respected his quiet strength, his attention and care for details, his perceptivity.
And when his focus was turned on her it was not a weight at all, even if it made her to shiver inside;
Bianca told herself that it was just the reflection of his power washing over her.
They had a good arrangement, where he bore her reserve and she tolerated his mulish stubbornness, where they were never tired of touching each other - whether it was while they worked out or made love.
It was nice leaning on him- although she didn’t need it - and it was even better being treated like a lady, being cared for the way every girl secretly desires (which he was entitled to know so well, given the high estrogenic levels he had breathed in by living inside Halliwell Manor for most of his life) and fighting him without holding back.
There were times when Bianca feared the possibilities: Chris had already so much potential as a witch, and he was just beginning to test the boundaries of his magic. Considering how often he tapped in it without even noticing, it was a pretty sure bet he was meant for greatness ; his destiny was probably been bound to a grandiose benign quest which would leave behind a middle-ground creature like her.
Bianca Perry didn’t remember very much about the first time she had had sex, except that she was fourteen and wished it would be over soon. Partly, she supposed the shock factor was been to blame: the coven had assigned her the first human kill and she had spent the previous half-hour segregated in a stinky services room, trying to rub off the smell of blood off her hands. Later she had met their demon client to retire her payment and when he had touched her- first brushing her hair, then probing everything else of her- she simply had not cared to pry those insolent claws off her body. Instead she had closed her eyes and hoped he could hurt her just enough to make her feel as filthy outside as she felt inside.
The first time she had sex with Chris, Bianca didn’t expect it was special.
They were been seeing each other for one month and one of his friends had invited him to a sorority party- Bianca had accompanied him and they had danced and got drunk on alcohol and laughter. They had slipped inside his dorm room the morning after and locked outside ‘accidentally’ his annoying dorm mate. Chris had allowed her to take the lead while they made out and it had simply happened, without drama or saccharine declarations. Next thing they knew, the annoying dorm mate was awaking them by yelling and punching the locked door. Chris had invited her out for lunch and they had disclosed the door few seconds before he orbed them both away.
Perhaps it wasn’t been *special*, but it was been *different*.
For Bianca, sex had always meant a sort of sweet humiliation with her demon lovers, whereas with her mortal ones the rush was all about feeling in control.
Chris had made her to feel both ways and neither one at the same time.
The first time they made love happened after another sorority party, but they were drunk on nothing but each other. Bianca read the difference in the softer desperation of his hands and the sharper edge of his gaze, the different impact of the same gestures and hushed sounds on her senses.
The annoying roommate was spending the weekend somewhere else, so they had got all the time of the world.
In the aftermath, Chris played with her hair and said: “I might be in love with you”
Bianca liked that odd talent Chris had for taking anything in stride. It wasn’t a matter of diminishing the importance of things, but rather a method of accepting it and shrugging it off without rancour.
She gave him a radiant smile, feeling giddy but curiously not surprised.
“You might?”
“I might, if I knew what you are hiding from me”
“Why would you think me hiding anything?”
From his relaxed features and smiling lips she could decipher nothing.
“I don’t *think*, I do know. I’m empathic”
That was fresh news. Bianca narrowed her eyes to her lover.
“You forgot to not omit it for three months”
“I guess I was hiding something as well”
Bianca desired intensely slapping that smirk off his face. Hard.
Or kiss it away. The rough way.
It occurred to her that her boyfriend was a neurotic, slightly manipulative jerk.
She uttered the counter-spell for the glamour which kept hidden her Birthmark and offered her inner wrist to his observation. His immediate recognition made her proud.
“Why?”
What did he mean, asking her why? Why had she lied? Why she was what she was?
In his eyes there was no condemnation, no false sense of superiority.
“Don’ you see it? I love you. My lies were nothing but a shield.
You are a Good Witch and you were raised to protect the innocent -- I’m a Phoenix and Death is been my first craft. I think I was a bit in love with It, until I met you. Between us there’s an abyss nobody will be never able to bridge...
Yet I love you – try to get this, you… neurotic bastard!
I can’t be different: in this world I love and believe in only myself, but you became a part of me, the brighter, larger part. I wasn’t prepared to this. ‘THIS’ is not even remotely alike to what I considered love”
She stopped ranting and Chris looked away from her, turning his gaze upward to the ceiling, like if he won’t accept to have his mind influenced by the expression on her face.
It hurt worse than a physical blow, this mute dismissal of her feelings.
Bianca slid against his body until she was in a position which forced him to look straight in her dark eyes again, but Chris didn’t back away this time.
“I can swear every single life I took wasn’t worth sparing. I never killed an innocent”
She hated how guarded they were, the green eyes staring back to her now.
“It’s not the same than saying they weren’t human, it isn’t?”
Bianca shook her head vehemently at him
“What if few of my targets were human? They were violent people, involved in demonic business! Assassins like me, by association if not by action! They brought their end on themselves!”
“Great! – he commented sarcastically - This exactly the point: two wrongs don’t make one right!”
“I will have you knowing I was the first to hate those charges! I promise you I have not accepted one since I turned seventeen and gained the right to decide for myself. ”
“I want to trust you”
“Then do it!” – Bianca pleaded.
She knew he had accepted her the moment his hands came back to her hair.
Chris shook his head, sighing:
“Well, a Charmed Son and a Phoenix: I’m afraid it quite makes us two for tragedy ”
His smirk had something of tender and Bianca couldn’t refrain from smiling back a little as well. Even if this discussion was barely started.
“I don’t think I would have it any other way”
Yes, Bianca Perry was apparently a mess when she fell in love.
But she was starting to see she preferred falling in a tragedy with a certain neurotic, strong witch to defending her placid life of lonely independence.
So it was okay; if her life was about ending and starting over, she was ready.
THE END
[shadow=red,left,300]f you love me a little, review!
If you hate me a lot, review as well![/shadow]
Summary: In the Changed Future Bianca falls in love – reluctantly.
[glow=red,2,300]TWO FOR TRAGEDY[/glow]
Author: Sky Samuelle
Redeem me into childhood
Show me myself without the shell
Like the advent of May
I’ll be there when you say
Time to never hold our love
- My fall will be for you -
My fall will be for you
My love will be in you
You were the one to cut me
So I’ll bleed forever
From - Ghost Love Score- by Nightwish
Their story began a spring night in New York, almost for accident.
She was trailing a target – the wandering consort of an ancient Master Vampire- and while she kept her distance to escape the senses of her prey, waiting the right moment to attack and tasting those precious heartbeats suspended between the ambush and the kill, he disrupted her routine by presenting himself as the next meal of her future victim.
Bianca was been actually relieved, because her strategy included beheading the demon as she fed: it wasn’t a matter of cowardice, but it would be unwise putting on alert a vicious, petty creature like a two centuries old vampire.
She remembered of watching them flirting and deriding the ingenuity of that pretty mortal boy who was following the vampire right to the most isolated corner of whole the park, like a lamb licking the hand of its butcher.
The young Phoenix had prepared herself to intervene but the boy had surprised her: as soon he was sure they were enough out of public way, he had stepped back and attacked his companion without hesitation, proving that he had been planning it since he was been accosted.
As freelance assassin, cool blood and fast thinking were two qualities which Bianca was been taught to keep in highest consideration, so really it wasn’t her fault if her first impression of Christopher Halliwell was positive. She had lingered among the shadows, deciding to allow the other witch to tire her target a little before stepping in and finishing the job, and had observed him conjuring repeatedly little spheres of sunlight to dust the vampire, who kept dematerializing in a grey mist an instant before being hit and condensing again few seconds after.
In defending himself the unknown boy displayed a rough, street-smart hand to hand technique learnt from experience (effective, even if it certainly didn’t compare to a Phoenix artful dancing with death) and an extensive knowledge of spells. He acted fast without being careless, and Bianca was almost sorry she had to plunge her athame inside the vampire’ heart and take the merit for rescuing him. Then he had once and again done something of unexpected, smiling and thanking her like if she had truly saved his life and not interrupted a fight he was obviously enjoying.
He had been glad of meeting another witch apparently and had offered her a coffee.
Even today, Bianca couldn’t say what had motivated her to accept.
After all, she had known that between the Phoenixes and the ‘OTHER’ kind of witches there was an gap as deep as the one separating them from mortals: her coven was born from the ashes of Salem, when her ancestors had swore to never forget the horrors of the Trials, to never again stand between demons and Innocents- because for a Phoenix, no mortal would never been considered innocent again. Her kind lived by that oath uttered in vengeance and maintained throughout contemptuous indifference, only serving the Coven’s benefit, only breeding among their people or with other magical creatures (mostly demons) to maintain their blood pure, untainted from mortal influences.
Being a Phoenix meant believing this legacy of power and death, vengeance and independence which was an abyss away from the Greater Design served by good witches or from the petty fantasies of grandeur cultivated from evil witches.
So Bianca had always known nothing good or lasting could come out from letting Chris think they had something in common, but she had still done it. She was attracted to boys like him – with dark hair, light eyes and sexy mouths ready to smirk- and she had felt like he owed her the entertainment she had missed.
How quickly things had spiralled out of her control: by the date’s end, she already didn’t know nothing else of Chris except that he had an obsessive interest in Demon Classification and Spell-casting, studied at the New York University because his family was adamant about having him enjoying his youth in the most carefree manner possible until he was still able to, and revelled in demon-hunting. He didn’t seem to feel threatened by her power or her opinions, however different they could be, and he wasn’t intimidated or put off their four-year age difference.
As a matter of fact, Chris acted like if very few things could put him off- like if he had a centre of balance of his own and nothing could shake it. He bore himself with an air of solidity and strength.
Before she left him, Bianca wondered how he kissed and she knew she wanted to see him again.
So when Chris invited her to join the small coven of his university campus for the Ostara celebrations, it didn’t seem wrong to accept.
And when they kept seeing each other, Bianca kept repeating to herself that it wasn’t serious and thus there was no true necessity to tell him *all* the truth.
It was enough that they both liked rough shags; strong cocktails and long nights spent talking, walking or discussing spells rituals and potion-making.
Bianca took seven dates to confess him she came from San Francisco as well, but Chris didn’t act upset at all. He took it in stride, like if he had been expecting something like that from her, and she found she liked the sensation of being understood by him, even if the same level of intimacy would have made her uncomfortable with anybody else.
When he was absorbed by his exams and she was taken with her jobs, it grew difficult to not long for his lips and hands and sarcastic remarks.
When he was with her, it grew difficult to not let her senses were overwhelmed by his presence and allow all the rotten things of the universe to fade away.
Yet she would not believe it was love.
The only love she had known it was the profound belonging and reverential admiration she had felt for her mother before she died.
It had not anything to do with the clenching of her stomach every time Chris’s green eyes lighted up when he spotted her, or turned his head toward her few seconds before she actually entered in a room.
Love wasn’t the shyness Bianca felt around him sometimes, when he talked about his loud, overbearing and too numerous family and noticing how he loved them, even if they didn’t always understood him, and she realized she was not never been loyal to someone in that measure which went beyond any failure or weakness .
Love definitely was not the violent urge to punch him she felt when Chris grew a bit too caught his thousand little projects, especially if they put him stupidly in harm’s way.
It simply could not be.
Yet there was a barely suppressed intensity about him, in his capacity to have an all-or-nothing- response to things and people and in eagerness to put his beliefs into practice, his incapacity to do anything half-way, colouring with a lightly manic edge everything he did – she admired it like she respected his quiet strength, his attention and care for details, his perceptivity.
And when his focus was turned on her it was not a weight at all, even if it made her to shiver inside;
Bianca told herself that it was just the reflection of his power washing over her.
They had a good arrangement, where he bore her reserve and she tolerated his mulish stubbornness, where they were never tired of touching each other - whether it was while they worked out or made love.
It was nice leaning on him- although she didn’t need it - and it was even better being treated like a lady, being cared for the way every girl secretly desires (which he was entitled to know so well, given the high estrogenic levels he had breathed in by living inside Halliwell Manor for most of his life) and fighting him without holding back.
There were times when Bianca feared the possibilities: Chris had already so much potential as a witch, and he was just beginning to test the boundaries of his magic. Considering how often he tapped in it without even noticing, it was a pretty sure bet he was meant for greatness ; his destiny was probably been bound to a grandiose benign quest which would leave behind a middle-ground creature like her.
Bianca Perry didn’t remember very much about the first time she had had sex, except that she was fourteen and wished it would be over soon. Partly, she supposed the shock factor was been to blame: the coven had assigned her the first human kill and she had spent the previous half-hour segregated in a stinky services room, trying to rub off the smell of blood off her hands. Later she had met their demon client to retire her payment and when he had touched her- first brushing her hair, then probing everything else of her- she simply had not cared to pry those insolent claws off her body. Instead she had closed her eyes and hoped he could hurt her just enough to make her feel as filthy outside as she felt inside.
The first time she had sex with Chris, Bianca didn’t expect it was special.
They were been seeing each other for one month and one of his friends had invited him to a sorority party- Bianca had accompanied him and they had danced and got drunk on alcohol and laughter. They had slipped inside his dorm room the morning after and locked outside ‘accidentally’ his annoying dorm mate. Chris had allowed her to take the lead while they made out and it had simply happened, without drama or saccharine declarations. Next thing they knew, the annoying dorm mate was awaking them by yelling and punching the locked door. Chris had invited her out for lunch and they had disclosed the door few seconds before he orbed them both away.
Perhaps it wasn’t been *special*, but it was been *different*.
For Bianca, sex had always meant a sort of sweet humiliation with her demon lovers, whereas with her mortal ones the rush was all about feeling in control.
Chris had made her to feel both ways and neither one at the same time.
The first time they made love happened after another sorority party, but they were drunk on nothing but each other. Bianca read the difference in the softer desperation of his hands and the sharper edge of his gaze, the different impact of the same gestures and hushed sounds on her senses.
The annoying roommate was spending the weekend somewhere else, so they had got all the time of the world.
In the aftermath, Chris played with her hair and said: “I might be in love with you”
Bianca liked that odd talent Chris had for taking anything in stride. It wasn’t a matter of diminishing the importance of things, but rather a method of accepting it and shrugging it off without rancour.
She gave him a radiant smile, feeling giddy but curiously not surprised.
“You might?”
“I might, if I knew what you are hiding from me”
“Why would you think me hiding anything?”
From his relaxed features and smiling lips she could decipher nothing.
“I don’t *think*, I do know. I’m empathic”
That was fresh news. Bianca narrowed her eyes to her lover.
“You forgot to not omit it for three months”
“I guess I was hiding something as well”
Bianca desired intensely slapping that smirk off his face. Hard.
Or kiss it away. The rough way.
It occurred to her that her boyfriend was a neurotic, slightly manipulative jerk.
She uttered the counter-spell for the glamour which kept hidden her Birthmark and offered her inner wrist to his observation. His immediate recognition made her proud.
“Why?”
What did he mean, asking her why? Why had she lied? Why she was what she was?
In his eyes there was no condemnation, no false sense of superiority.
“Don’ you see it? I love you. My lies were nothing but a shield.
You are a Good Witch and you were raised to protect the innocent -- I’m a Phoenix and Death is been my first craft. I think I was a bit in love with It, until I met you. Between us there’s an abyss nobody will be never able to bridge...
Yet I love you – try to get this, you… neurotic bastard!
I can’t be different: in this world I love and believe in only myself, but you became a part of me, the brighter, larger part. I wasn’t prepared to this. ‘THIS’ is not even remotely alike to what I considered love”
She stopped ranting and Chris looked away from her, turning his gaze upward to the ceiling, like if he won’t accept to have his mind influenced by the expression on her face.
It hurt worse than a physical blow, this mute dismissal of her feelings.
Bianca slid against his body until she was in a position which forced him to look straight in her dark eyes again, but Chris didn’t back away this time.
“I can swear every single life I took wasn’t worth sparing. I never killed an innocent”
She hated how guarded they were, the green eyes staring back to her now.
“It’s not the same than saying they weren’t human, it isn’t?”
Bianca shook her head vehemently at him
“What if few of my targets were human? They were violent people, involved in demonic business! Assassins like me, by association if not by action! They brought their end on themselves!”
“Great! – he commented sarcastically - This exactly the point: two wrongs don’t make one right!”
“I will have you knowing I was the first to hate those charges! I promise you I have not accepted one since I turned seventeen and gained the right to decide for myself. ”
“I want to trust you”
“Then do it!” – Bianca pleaded.
She knew he had accepted her the moment his hands came back to her hair.
Chris shook his head, sighing:
“Well, a Charmed Son and a Phoenix: I’m afraid it quite makes us two for tragedy ”
His smirk had something of tender and Bianca couldn’t refrain from smiling back a little as well. Even if this discussion was barely started.
“I don’t think I would have it any other way”
Yes, Bianca Perry was apparently a mess when she fell in love.
But she was starting to see she preferred falling in a tragedy with a certain neurotic, strong witch to defending her placid life of lonely independence.
So it was okay; if her life was about ending and starting over, she was ready.
THE END
[shadow=red,left,300]f you love me a little, review!
If you hate me a lot, review as well![/shadow]
