Noz's 100 Theme Challenge

[nozomi]

Rules:

1. Nothing I post will exceed 20minutes of my life.
2. Do not expect color. Or coherency.
3. If you know me or my characters, you know what sort of warnings to expect. If not: Sexuality of multiple sorts, swearing, death, murder, anger issues, sociopathy, and nakedness. Oh, and drugs.


1. Eating Glows
2. Bubbly pie goes splat (in someone's face)
3. Trundle with the Trundle Bugs
4. Bloodletting for Wherlets
5. Gather Fun!
6. Hatching Time!
7. First Flight
8. A candidate midnight rendevouz
9. Flaming Thread
10. Flying high
11. Chore Duty
12. Swimming with Shipfish
13. Bountiful Egss
14. Corraling the herdbeast
15. Forever Mine
16. Runner Races!
17. Harper's Dance
18. Frolicking with friends
19. Fly With Me
20. We go together, Mine
21. Too Much Klah
22. We the Hold Folk
23. A Lord's gotta do what a Lord's gotta do
24. My Craft
25. Those of the Dark
26. Beneath the Dawn Sisters
27. Run Run Run! Thread has Come!
28. Tunnelsnake Trouble
29. Oh Shards
30. Colors
31. Protect Me
32. Candidates Can Party Too!
33. Female and Proud of It
34. Weyrlings are Rampant
35. Getting into Trouble
36. A Healer's Duty
37. Fight and Defend - Siata
38. Exploring
39. I'm Yours; You're Mine
40. Black, Blacker, Blackest - Jessan
41. I Outrank You!
42. I Wanna be a Harper
43. Flames
44. Disaster Strikes
45. It's...Complicated - Siata
46. My Craft is Better
47. Seriously?
48. Sibling Rivalry
49. Egg Touching
50. Sharding Hot Sands!
51. There's No Stronger Bond
52. Peace at Last
53. Things that Glow in the Night
54. I Love You
55. No Other Choice
56. Wherry Hunt
57. The Child in Me
58. Firelizard(s)
59. Swim with Me
60. A Good Oiling
61. No Such Thing (As too Much Wine)
62. Dancing
63. Sing Me a Song
64. Sleep Little Hatchlings
65. Looking My Best
66. A Little Wild
67. Starstones
68. Wings in the Sky
69. Drifting
70. Crunchy Firestone
71. Tunnelsnake Toss
72. Voices in My Head
73. You Can't Fly! (wher)
74. Dragonless
75. Wherless
76. We Bleed Green
77. The Bond
78. It's Called Tag
79. An Heir's Duty
80. Broken Shells and Broken Hearts (those left standing after a Hatching)
81. A Right of Passage (weyrbrats sneaking onto the sands to see the eggs)
82. A Gather
83. Welcome to the Family
84. With Sweat and Blood and Tears, I Made This
85. Those Troublesome Twos
86. Silence is Golden
87. A Lady's Jewels
88. Simple Pleasures
89. A New Home (A new Candidate's first time at the Weyr)
90. Saving Grace (AKA Saving a Goldrider)
91. A precious gift (A new baby)
92. Joys of Search
93. Expression of the Heart
94. Aerobatics
95. Joining the Ranks
96. Infirmary
97. Stuck!
98. Stuffy Records
99. Bathing Time
100. One of the Same

[nozomi]

This is why birth control is important. WHO WANTS THEM BREEDING?!

[nozomi]

A visit home was a rare thing - Natasa rarely enjoyed the company of other people when at the brothel. Her mother dead ("disappeared"), at least she had her father, her brother, and Jessan. The children at the Hall were tedious, so set in their ways, insistent on this, that, or the other that it made her want to scream.

She returned home as often as possible, and used what she knew of Mindhealing to destroy the minds of those who once taunted her or her brother.

Jessan greeted her with open arms and a bright smile, the matron of the brothel honestly pleased to see Natasa home. She enfolded Natasa to her ample breast, squeezed her close with a murmured, "Oh, baby, darling. Look at how much you've grown, lovie! Your brother will be so excited to see you."

"I know," said Natasa, smile wide and her grip on Jessan firm. She hugged the woman again before breaking free, smoothing her modest skirts. "Where is he? Do you know?"

"No, baby. Ever since the-" And there, Jessan hesitated, round face pulled into something like grief. Ever since Natasa's mother tried to kill Machi as a toddler, Jessan took care of him as much as she had Natasa. Ever since Shay... "The incident, he's been out at all hours of the night. We worry about him."

"He's probably just visiting some other brothel." Natasa nodded, though she knew it false. Machi was not the sort. "It would be awkward for him here."

"Perhaps, love." And she smiled again, full lips quivering, and Natasa knew that they both knew it a lie.

She settled back down in her room, a large thing of thick covers and a canopy bed, pillows and scents and clothing that revealed and made her feel beautiful. Natasa let down her hair and had just started to brush it out when her window slid open. She tensed, hand already at the dagger her father bought her so long ago, at her mothers disappearance, and looked in the mirror.

Machi, coated in blood, tears on his face, snot on his upper lip. He shook, his eyes wide and wild, unseeing of anything except his sister.

"Natasa," He said, voice a rasp. He continued to tremble, and she took him in her arms as if they were three and five again. Machi had dripped water then, as he now dripped blood.

"Machi, Machi, dear, what happened?"

He drew in a great gulping breath, so small and thin against her. "It - It didn't bring him back."

And he burst into tears.

[nozomi]

Siata stretches out on their bed, eyes shut with a lazy pull to her spine. Her hand falls to the left, Rochelle's side, fingers curl into a spot still warm from her mates body. The Smith grumbles something rude and displeased under her breath. Green eyes slit open and she looks around the room.

Light shines from the glows Rochelle has placed on the wall; it illuminates their room a soft yellow, comforts Siata with the gentle colors. She yawns and mumbles: "Rochelle?"

In the darkness, Rochelle stands nude, brush in hand. It is an early morning, but her shift is an early one, and Siatas is a late afternoon. She smiles anyway, walks into the glow-light. Her hair is down over her shoulders, half of it is straight, the other half tangles from sleep.

"You should be asleep," she whispers, and Siata's eyes close as she strokes a cool hand down her cheek. "You had a late shift last night."

"Don' care." Siata yawns. She wraps an arm around Rochelle's waist, soft and fat against her muscular limb. The smith pulls her into bed, and their sheets tangle as bad as Rochelle's hair, their soft laughter fills the air.

Neither moves to make the moment sexual. Rather, they relax, pliable and another hard, fingers in hair and on the small of the back. Siata opens her eyes and Rochelle smiles again, the same one Siata falls in love with every time she sees it.

"Call in sick," Siata butts her head under Rochelle's chin, feels it dimple as Rochelle smiles again. "Let's have a day off."

"I'm teaching jewelry today, Si." A warm touch, lips on her forehead, and Rochelle moves away. She pulls on a pair of pants, bright green against pale skin, and her tunic follows. Rochelle ties her fully tangled hair up and smiles back at Siata, who watches her dress. The smith props herself up on one elbow - she lets the sheet stay in its tangle, amusement and pleasure in her eyes. "I'll be back in a few hours. You sleep."

Rochelle dips down. They kiss. She falls asleep with Rochelle's hip-swishes in her head, and Siata is happy. She feels she will always be happy with Rochelle. It is good.

It is the simple pleasures.

[nozomi]

(Note: I have not read 'Beyond Between', nor do I care to. Just enjoy the fucking fic)

Vityai stared up at the ceiling of nothingness, the stark white that hurt his eyes for less then a seconds before it dimmed to something less agonizing. His side did not hurt anymore, his throat and stomach failed to pain him. No prisoner stood in front of him, killing him, no Yusuth shrieking in his head in terror and pain and desperate hope.

He touched his side, felt bare skin, and looked down at himself. Naked? Naked. But he did not feel exposed or indecent, he only felt quiet calm He was not even cold, so that meant he was not between.

Right?

VityaiMine? A hesitant voice sounded in his head, confused as Vityai felt calm. He blinked (without having the desire for his fellis or wine) and reached out an unwrinkled hand, smooth and without scars. Yusuth appeared before him, alive and whole, his hide gleaming. Vityai touched his muzzle and Yusuth pushed close, wrapping his bulk around Vityai in a dragons loving embrace. Vityai, Vityai, I was so scared. He hurt you and--

"Shhh." Vityai leaned into him, cocked his head to touch his dragon, forehead to muzzle, and closed his eyes. "Shhh. It's over. We're safe. We don't have to worry again."

No worries again Yusuth crooned, low, rumbling. They curled close, Vityai clinging to him as he did when they first Impressed. Where are we?

"We're dead." Said Vityai, and Yusuth said nothing. "But we aren't hurting, are we?"

No.

"Then I don't care where we are. We're together, and not hurting." He squeezed what he could hold of Yusuth, and closed his eyes. "Let's rest, Yusuth."

[nozomi]

Color politics played heavily in with K'yne's world. He'd grown up surrounded by wild children in the creche and had found order in the form of the Dragon Watch. Since the age of twelve turns, he'd wanted nothing more then to have a dragon, join the Watch, make something of the chaos. Through it all, there had been silence, and he'd been alone.

Which was fine. K'yne - Kaeyne, then - was fine with being alone. It meant things were quiet, and he could concentrate on being a leader-enough to get a Bronze. That's what everyone said - a man needed a bronze to be anything, and he needed to be a leader to get one.

Kaeyne never thought love to be like that, where you had to change yourself to fit. Having a bronze and the status that came with it would be nice, but a dragon, period... Then, Adetsu. They would both get bronze, they would be the best Watch ever. Calith hatched green and small, lovely in her brightness, and she twined around him like an adorable green darling. K'yne stopped caring about colors.

People treated the colors differently; K'yne was not the flamboyant creature some would assume, nor was Calith particularily prone to flights. Maybe. They weren't a full Turn old just yet, she hadn't taken to the skies in Flight, so K'yne could only assume. She never said otherwise. He didn't mind being a greenrider, or being treated as one. It put him on an imbalance of power, despite his desire to lead and make things better. Or, at least, put everything in order.

He sat up that night in the Weyrling barracks, legs crossed, his back to the wall and long hair down over his shoulders. Calith, too large to fit in the barracks, slept soundly. Balance of power or not, Adetsu acted no different. They were the same as they'd always been, close and fully trusting, the best of comrades.

He smiled, faint and trying to ignore the swell of something painful and sweet twisting in his chest. Such things were dangerous, they led only to bad things. Friendship didn't feel like that, right?

The balance of power... He felt sick, and the tug in his ribcage didn't fade a sharding bit. The balance threw itself out, and K'yne pressed his face to his hands. Shards. Oh, Shards.

He'd fallen for his best friend. A greenrider with bossy tendencies, a brownrider that listened, the Looks he already got, and...

K'yne did not know why the color politics mattered so much, or that he hadn't been alone for over a Turn, but it mattered, and he'd fallen in love with his only friend.

Oh Shards, Shells, and Tunnelsnakes.

[nozomi]

Tiny fingers, delicate and soft, the nails tapered and gently buffed. They fold along the crease of a lilac colored tunic, tender as a lovers caress. The small figure hunched her shoulders, bird-thin limbs curving in. Her fingers clutch the tunic and round face bows, pretty features twisted up into something bordering on agony.

Behind her, outside of the room, is a woman. Her hair is red and she has freckles, and she says something in a soft, hurt voice to the girl inside. The figure in the tunic puts her hands to her ears, squeezing her eyes shut. He'd never officially said, "No, you cannot." but she knew what he would say to a woman.

He'd never say no.

But she--

"Natai," the woman outside says, her freckled hand on the door. "It's alright, sweetheart. You know this isn't anything to worry about." Her words of comfort failed to reach the young woman inside of her room, shivering and no tears on her face.

Neither spoke for near five minutes. Those fingers pluck at her tunic, nerves and fear tight in her throat, kept the tears from prickling her eyes. She stands then, wavering on her feet, pale purple bright against dark skin, bare feet shuffling on the ground.

The door opens and she stares out, eyes wide and hurt, usually timid fingers tight on the door. She squeezes so hard her fingers hurt, and the woman with the freckles doesn't move.

"You should go," Natai whispers, skinny shoulders hunched up under the lilac. "I can't. Not this."

"He won't care." says the woman. Natai shakes her head, sniffles so her eyes go bloodshot. "Natai, he loves you, he won't care--"

"He will. He won't say anything, but he'll care. I can't, Lillah. I can't. You need to go because this is- I can't." She shakes her head, smile wavering, and she touches the freckled hand on the door, those tapered, buffed, dainty nails brushing a blueriders knuckles. "... This is the only thing I- I can. Please. Go."

They stare at each other, one scared and shivering, the other quiet and blocked off. The woman - Lillah - takes a step back, her shapely, freckled hand falling away from Natai's well cared for own.

"Right." She says, again weary and disappointed. Natai says nothing, but steps back and closes the door before Lillah walks away. She slides down to the ground, pretty face pressed tight to her knees, hands once more tight at her tunic.

She clings and does not cry, does not talk to her grandfather on who the redheaded, short, freckled bluerider is, or why she is usually seen near Natai. The girl in lilac especially does not tell her grandfather she does not want a dragon, Gold or otherwise, or that she has given up something to make her happy to pretend she does.

Silence and obedience is the only way to keep him happy, there is no other way. She has no tears. She clings to herself.

[nozomi]

Her arms healed up enough to be useful, the bright pink skin hidden under long sleeves. Natasa's father made sure they were beautiful clothes to hide his daughters less then beautiful arms, deep emeralds or ruby colored cloth. Natasa enjoyed feeling pretty again, or how it meant Machi didn't look murderously upon the old woman that poured the boiling water on her.

Maybe her daughter should not have taunted the two brothel-raised children with their motherless state and strange coloring.

Natasa asked her brother to mutilate a small firelizard, the messenger flit owned by that same girl. Then she took the flit in a burlap sack, found the crying girl who did not know what grabbed her 'lizard from behind and broke it's neck.

"Sali," Natasa said, her little chin tilting up with as much haughtiness as a child with scars on her arms could muster. Sali, crying into her hands and hidden away in an ally, looked up with a tear streaked face. "I hear you lost your firelizard."

"S-someone killed him--" Natasa pulled the brown body from the sack and threw it at the girls feet. Sali choked on her words, hands going up to her mouth. Natasa, unimpressed, allowed her a small scream before she stepped forward. Her soft ladies slippers snagged on the rough rock of the ally in her shuffling, and the flicker of annoyance added an extra edge of malice to Natasa's otherwise gentle smile.

"You made fun of my brother." She reached out and stroked Sali's brown hair. The older girl shrank back, failing to resist with anything more then a whimper when Natasa's hand tightened in her hair. Younger, smaller, and weaker, Natasa did not have her best friends ripped-apart body at her feet, or a girl smiling with cold kindness up at her. Sali didn't move. "Your mother disfigured me. That was very bad, Sali. Do you want to end up like Jabber?"

Sali shook her head, and Natasa's fingers gentled, cupped her cheek. Her words, tender, soft, made Sali shudder. "If you ever speak wrong of my boy again, if you or your family raise a hand to one of us, I will make sure your brothers and sisters end up like your pretty firelizard. That would be a shame, wouldn't it?" She petted. "Of course it would."

Sali did not speak for a long time after that. Years later, Machi constantly following her, just to keep the warning in mind, she fled for another Hold. Word was she took her own life.

What a shame.

[nozomi]

Meronck spun on the ball of his foot, fast as he could in the cool night breeze, pipes to his lips. At twelve, all gawky limbs and thickening shoulders, he could not keep his balance enough to play in time. Somewhere near the Dining Hall, someone laughed and started to sing some bawdy song a boy his age was just old enough to start learning.

"Da-da-dum the Skies she Flies ba-dum-DA-dum!" sang the young man, head back and yelling the song to the winds, a wide grin on his face. He flung his hands out and kept spinning, faster and faster until he tripped over his own toes.

Meronck laughed when his ass his the packed floor, pipes clutched close to his chest. His father loomed over him, an amused smirk on his face.

"Meronck, what are you doing?"

"My name is horrible," said Meronck, serious as a boy could be, and he grinned up at the Lord Holder. "Father, I want to be a Harper."

"I thought you wanted to be a Dragonrider, boy."

"I can be both. Can't I?" He helped his son up, the boy flopping against his father with a chortle of laughter. "I want to be a Harper."

"We'll talk about it."

"Ba-dum-DA-dum-da!"