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EVE-Online RP Discussion and Resources => EVE Fiction + Fiction discussion => Topic started by: Karynn on 16 Dec 2014, 02:21
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Here's my Fiction debut!
I hope it's enjoyable. Please do feel free to ask questions and give me feedback - I haven't got much experience at this kind of thing, so anything that helps me to learn would be greatly appreciated!
If it goes down well, I'd like to continue with more "Tales from the Caravan" as I don't think many have touched on the everyday life of a Thukker caravan.
Anyway, enough rambling, here's the story...
"Strained"
She was late.
Not that she cared; Khalia had allowed herself to become distracted in the bazaar on her way, stopping to browse the wares and talk with a merchant or a familiar face for a few minutes before moving on to the next stall.
By the time she arrived, she was nearly an hour overdue. She paused at the door to inspect herself, making sure that her mismatched clothing revealed just enough of her developing frame to earn disapproval. She took a few deep breaths, composing herself, mentally rehearsing her arguments and comebacks. Once satisfied that she was ready, she entered.
The small meeting room was typically Thukker; one table, two chairs and nothing else. A woman sat in the chair opposite to the door. She looked up as Khalia entered, sweeping her long dreadlocks back over her shoulders to reveal an attractive face, with an intricate tattoo framing her dark eyes. Her blood-red lips curled in a smile.
"I was beginning to think you weren't going to come," she said.
Khalia did not return the smile. She knew it wasn't genuine, having seen it before on the face of every merchant and Outrider she knew. Guile was second nature to her people.
"I'm surprised you waited," she replied coldly.
The woman held her smile, the girl's tone having no visible effect. She looked Khalia up and down, raising her eyebrows in interest.
"I like your outfit. Did you add your own touches?"
Now Khalia was becoming frustrated; her best efforts to antagonise the woman were falling short. She went for a more blunt attack.
"I figured you'd like the slutty look, Karynn."
There.
That shot landed. The woman's smile slipped, if only for a second.
"When are you getting your hair 'locked?" she continued, "It looks a bit, y'know, Caille that way."
The teenager run a hand through her hair self-consciously; it was short and sleek, black with fluorescent pink streaks. "I don't want dreads. I like it this way."
She dragged out the vacant chair with her foot, metal scraping along metal, before slumping into it wordlessly. A minute went by without either speaking, the only sound being the thrum of the Katanga's reactor, several decks below.
Karynn broke the stalemate; "So, what Circle are you with now?"
"Astrometrics," Khalia sighed disdainfully, "I figured I'd go in with the exploratory division."
"You'd be spending a lot of time away from the Caravan."
"Yes and from you, too."
Karynn nodded silently, looking down at the silver rings that adorned her fingers for a moment. She looked back up at the girl.
"Are you looking forward to your Voluval? It's only a few months away now, isn't it?"
Khalia shrugged, looking around the room restlessly. "As long as you're not planning on coming, it should be ok, I guess."
"Of course I'll be attending. It's my honour as Master, if nothing else, to attend the Voluvals."
The heavy table jarred as Khalia kicked a leg, muttering under her breath. She sighed, staring at the sheet-metal wall in silence for a few moments. She snapped her gaze back to Karynn.
"You got a smoke or a stick?".
"No. The Khargai arranges these meetings for us to talk with a clear head..."
Khalia tossed her head back with a forced laugh. "Ha! Listen to yourself! Since when have you had a clear head?"
Karynn's calm demeanour only infuriated the girl more.
"But I suppose you've never needed one, have you?" Khalia spat, "The Khargai makes all your decisions for you, doesn't she?"
At last, the smile dissolved. Karynn opened her mouth to retort, then bit her lip to hold herself back.
Khalia saw the breach and and continued her attack, "Khargai Talakha says sell drugs, so Karynn sells drugs. Khargai Talakha says sell slaves, so Karynn sells slaves. I mean... what the fuck?!"
She stood, kicking the chair back with a loud clatter, drawing her shoulders up and leaning over the table. "We're Matari! We should not be selling slaves!" Her voice began to break as she flung her words out in rage. "And the things I've heard them saying in the bazaar..."
Karynn's eyes narrowed, focusing sharply on the girl. "What things?" she said, flatly but softly.
Khalia leaned further across the table, bearing her intense gaze down on to the older woman. "There's talk of Blooders. And children."
She had wanted to feel elation and victory at this point; to watch Karynn squirm uncomfortably and protest her innocence, to refute the dark rumours and reassure her that there were limits to how far one should go.
But she had not expected to see the look that was returned to her. She felt a cold lump in the pit of her stomach, every part of her recoiling in horror.
"No... it's just a rumour, right?"
Karynn stood and reached out to touch the girl's arm. "Khali,"
She whipped her arm away, backing up against the door.
"No! You don't fucking touch me! You don't say anything to me!" her voice shattered.
"Khalia!" Karynn said firmly, "The Master must make tough decisions sometimes, you know this. One day you will have to make tough decisions yourself, when you lead this Caravan."
"I don't want to lead this fucking Caravan!" the girl shrieked, "I don't want anything to do with you!" she slammed her hand on the door control, ready to bolt out of the room.
"You are my daughter, Khalia. You can't just walk away from that." Karynn's tone remained firm, with a slight hint of menace.
Khalia stood in the open doorway, her shoulders shaking, staring out into the corridor. She turned slowly and locked eyes with Karynn. "You are not my mother. And just watch me run from you."
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Yes! More of this!
Well written and intriguing.
Crack the whip, Karynn! Let's see how mama Thukker disciplines Khalia.
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Thanks very much Anya, really happy you liked it!
Here's another, which is meant to be a contrast to the first one...
"Beloved"
She nestled further into the soft, black velvet robes, inhaling the familiar scent of incense and dryweed that clung to them, sighing gently as the intense warmth of the body within spread to her own. Fingers lightly caressed her forehead, running through her hair, then across her jawline and under her chin, raising her head up.
Karynn opened her eyes, gazing into those of Vaze Talakha, Khargai of the Clan Katanga. An enigma among an enigmatic people, nothing of the spiritual leader was known with any certainty. No one knew of her origins; yet her tattoos were distinctly Thukker and there was a definitive hint of Vherokior in the shape of her eyes. No one knew her exact age; yet her cloned body was said to host a mind and spirit hundreds of years old. And no one knew of her motives; yet generations of Masters of the small caravan had appointed her as their counsel, her insight, wisdom, ability to read the stars and channel the dead respected and revered, in spite of a world dictated by science and technology.
She sighed again as the Khargai's hand cupped her face, brushing a thumb lightly across her lips.
"Don't doubt yourself, child," whispered Vaze, deep and husky, "you did what you had to do."
"I don't doubt what I had to do. I doubt my ability to cope with it." Karynn's voice was quiet, subdued.
Vaze took one of Karynn's dreadlocks between finger and thumb, rubbing and rolling it down to the tip, tightening the matted hair.
"Did you ask the Ancestors for strength?"
"Yes."
"And did they answer? Did they give it to you?"
Karynn nodded, "Yes. Yes they did".
"Then you only need ask again. Whenever you feel that you need their strength, they will be there for you. You are their beloved."
Vaze traced her fingers through the thick tendrils of hair, down to the nape of Karynn's neck, to rest on the Voluval mark that sat between her implant sockets; a black eight-pointed star within a circle, a representation of the device used by those skilled in the ancient arts of astral divination.
"Like me, you carry the Starwheel. You are cherished by our Ancestors who dwell in the Otherworld. One day, they will use you as their channel. They answer your call to remind you of that, to remind you of their love."
Karynn managed a brief smile, before her brow creased in a frown. "I still see their faces. Their eyes... so young and innocent. They didn't have a clue what awaited them."
The Khargai exhaled with a quiet hiss in the back of her throat, shifting her hand around the woman's slender neck to rest it on her collarbone. Karynn's pupils dilated and her lips parted with a small gasp.
"Did you take my advice and update your softclone before embarking on the journey?" asked Vaze.
"Yes," Karynn whispered.
"Would you like to forget?"
Almost imperceptively, a short, curved blade appeared from the Khargai's sleeve to press against Karynn's throat. "It will be like it never happened."
Karynn took a deep, shuddering breath, struggling to contain the sensual rush that assailed her. She knew that Vaze was testing her, tapping into her most intimate desires and offering her an easy way out, the chance to slip into oblivion and wake up without the nightmares.
It was one thing for herself to forget, but others wouldn't. Nor would they forgive.
She managed to collect herself and answered firmly; "No. I must live with my decisions and the consequences they bring. The Ancestors will give me strength, and through you, they will guide my way."
Vaze smiled, withdrawing the blade back into the folds of her robes. She leant her head down, giving Karynn a lingering kiss on her lips.
"You make me so proud, sweetest star." she whispered.
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Oh, nice. Something to do while I wait for the 60-minute timer I just set to go ding on my Samsung (master race) phone.
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mmh, naughty Karynn
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Well written, interesting reading.
Looking forward to more in the future!
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I really really like these.
More!
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mmh, naughty Karynn
Not just empty quoting lol. *wiggles eyebrows suggestively*
But on a more serious note I do like these tales which flesh out Karynn's character. They present a very intimate perspective on what sorts of things she has to go through, so thanks for sharing. :)
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Thank you all for the positive feedback, it's inspired me to write another one!
It's nice to tie these Tales into events and interactions that happen in-game, so I'll have to put in some more game-time soon to get more stuff to write about!
"Exposed"
Bof watched over her silently.
Coughing and spluttering on the gantry, her naked body gleaming with viscous pod fluid, she was prostrate and helpless; it was these moments, immediately after being decanted from their pods, that capsuleers were at their most vulnerable.
And that was the reason why he was there.
She reached out with her hand, which Bof took, helping her to her feet. She stumbled, her footing unsure as she re-adjusted to the artificial gravity of the station. He put a huge arm around her shoulders to support her.
"Thank you," she breathed.
He took a great pride in his rank and position among the Katangara, the Caravan Master's elite guard, hand-picked from Thukker contingents of the Valklears.
Sharp. Tough. Brutally effective. And perhaps most importantly, well-paid.
Bof was their Captain, holding the most trusted position as the Master's own personal bodyguard.
Minutes later, he waited patiently for the noisy blast of hot air from the drying cubicle to finish. He nodded to a thrall, who quickly took up position near the door, holding a bundle of fresh clothing in her outstretched arms.
He drew himself up as the cubicle doors slid open. Karynn strode out, shaking her ropey tendrils of hair, snatching the bundle of clothes from the thrall and tossing them onto the bunk.
"How are we looking, Mister Bof?" she asked over her shoulder as she shook out a pair of leather trousers.
Bof cleared his throat; "Your meeting is in forty minutes, Miss. My team have prep'ed the route and have run the usual background checks on the venue and its security. All checks out okay."
Karynn nodded, sitting on the bunk to haul her trousers over her legs. "Good, good. Do I have time to visit the shops on the concourse?"
Bof pursed his lips, "The venue is located on the mid-decks, it's not exclusive to capsuleers." he said, as he watched her beckon to the thrall. "We'd have to run additional checks on the concourse facilities and I doubt we have time for that."
The thrall approached the bunk where Karynn was struggling to pull the leathers up over her thighs. "Get behind me and pull," she softly ordered the bemused slave.
Bof watched the pair for a few moments before offering a carefully worded suggestion; "If I may, Miss... not to say that your clothes are too small, far from it, but if the cloning company allows you to tailor your body, why don't you make... some areas... smaller?"
"Ha!" she exclaimed in triumph, bouncing up on to her feet and buckling her belt around her waist. She raised a knee and slapped her hand against the tight leather that stretched over her buttock.
"That's why, Mister Bof! You worry about keeping this booty safe, I'll worry about making it look good."
Bof couldn't resist a smile. "Of course, Miss."
"Now, what about the merch?" Karynn asked, slipping on a vest and donning a sleeveless leather tunic.
"Unloaded from the Marrakech and currently in the service elevator, all good to go."
She nodded as the young thrall began to arrange the chains and braids that festooned the front of her tunic. Each one told a story, a journey, a victory; all confirmed her prowess and rank as Master of the Caravan. The slave worked fastidiously, taking great care to keep them from tangling in her mistress's hair.
Karynn watched her intently; she was in her late teens or early twenties, with dark brown hair and eyes. There was a certain grace, dignity and poise in her movements.
"What's your name?" she asked the thrall.
"Vasha, Miss."
"You're Amarrian, aren't you?"
Vasha raised her head, making direct eye-contact. "Yes, Miss."
Karynn's voice dropped low and soft; "I can tell from the way you're doing that," she nodded down to the girl's nimble fingers as they threaded a small braid around a prominent chain, "your attention to detail is remarkable. You know the importance of how a Lady should look, don't you?"
"Yes, Miss." A brief flicker of a smile crossed her face.
Returning the smile, Karynn reached up and swept a lock of hair behind Vasha's ear. "They teach that kind of thing at the academies, don't they? You must come from a wealthy family. Noble, perhaps?"
She turned to Bof, "Have this one stay here, under guard."
Bof nodded with a grunt, "She valuable to you?"
"Oh yes," Karynn grinned, looking back at the girl, "and maybe to someone else, too..."
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Much lighter of tone this time, while simultaneously managing to stay fairly dark for the casual manner in which certain things were handled. I LOVE that, and have been working on that as a plot device myself lately. I think it enhances the humanity of the whole thing, taking a moment to nod toward just how inured we become to evils that we are exposed to regularly enough that they become our norms.
She turned to Bof, "Have this one stay here, under guard."
Bof nodded with a grunt, "She valuable to you?"
"Oh yes," Karynn grinned, looking back at the girl, "and maybe to someone else, too..."
Such a teaser!
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Thanks for noticing that, Havo!
Whilst I like this dark path that Karynn's on, I love to play with her confidence and charisma to act as the counter-balance.
Please drop any feedback on this thread or EVEmail me.
Thanks again!
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:eek:
[spoiler](https://i.imgflip.com/h4tbo.jpg)
In all seriousness, I really enjoy the insight into Karynn that is present here. Looking forward to more.[/spoiler]