Thyme Will Tell
lest we forget the struggle amplified
through the fire
we stalked, by name, by blood, by duty.
Magnified.


(no particular character) - "Thyme Will Tell" - (c)2006 Amanda Lee Harig
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Thyme. Small on the aristocratic scale, the Thyme family was regarded as a "mercenary family" -- not truly aristocrats -- but a blood line that was as pure as they could hope after the reclamation of the monarchies. There were basically two forms of power then: the noble-born and the militia-minded. For years after the detrimental attack on the Americas, these two warred silently against each other. Though different families paid different militias, all relationships were tender and easily destroyed by the slightest offense. It was chaotic back then, and many of the aristocracies didn't make it.

But of the few that did ended up "purchasing" factions of the militias and hired them on as a Home Guard. Eventually, there would be no difference between Militia and Aristocracy and a lot of things became muddled. Such as: who was responsible for the vast quantities of labratories that developed biological weapons and who viciously violated the age-old Geneva Convention. This of course, being after the change of interpretations of the convention. Regardless, it was through the fire that the Thyme family became noble-born and bested their failures.

Thane James Thyme was the heiress of her father's proud name and her mother's prestige as an Artegael -- an aristocracy that had been around since before the fall out of society. Her arrogance was inherent, then, and was not a surprise at all when she was declared a Lady. What was a surprise, however, was when she was introduced as "Lady Thyme" at the age sixteen. Surnames didn't always follow the father, but rather, the power. And here, the brat child of a Thyme and Artegael marriage, shunned her mother's heritage and took pride in the Thyme name.

Ultimately, she was a legacy -- long in the making.

Byron "Chrome" Salazar - "Portrait" - (c)2006 Amanda Lee Harig
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'The Land of the Blow & Honey'
--shall never be had.

            “…you’re fuckin’ Butterfly?”

            “If you had a dick, Thane, you would too.”  He looked up to her unapologetically, pale eyes rivaled by just how bloodshot they were.  Her lack of surprise just disgusted her more.

            “Fuck you.”  She should’ve said something more, and would have – but the fact she’d been drinking since she heard the news which was roughly two o’clock in the afternoon yesterday – the black-haired woman wouldn’t be made a hypocrite of by him.  As she turned to leave, Byron set down his stone-hewn pipe on the coffee table and tossed the marijuana aside, patting his knee in degradation.

            “Give me a minute and I’d be happy to.”

            She paused mid-stride and turned to face the proposition, sneering.  As suitable as her expression was, it was difficult to maintain.  He was stoned, he didn’t care what he said – it’s like beating a blind guy at chess.  Thane felt rooted, glaring into icy eyes.

            “How the fuck can you say that to me?”

            “Easily,” he replied with a taunting smile, “when one is being honest.”

            “And when exactly would that be, Byron?  When your promising her the world?”  Her voice dropped an octave in mockery.  “Oh, Butterfly, fuck Thane, we’ll blow this cheap hotel and go live big in Europe, the land of blow and honey.”  Chrome’s light laughter was his only response, the lanky fiend rising from the couch and stumbling over the coffee table.  He’d stop just a few inches short of Thane, swearing he could smell her sweat more so than the light lavender musk she preferred.  He wiped at his dry eyes, buying a moment as he thought of how to lightly word his response.

            “Yeah, just b’fore I shoot my load.  Kind ‘a like how I say I love ya.”

            He barely felt her fist stop in his face.  Chrome grabbed her then, first by the wrist, and then by her hair that knotted wonderfully in his hand, only to drag a fitful Thane to the couch.  Her struggles doubled when she landed on a stained cushion, a kick here, a scrape there.  He never retaliated, however, restraining his black-haired consort beneath his wiry build by pinning her wrists on the arm rest.  It was when Thane tasted his blood on her lips that she recoiled and ceased to fight.  Hands crept down her arm and further down her side.  A gasp when fingertips changed direction, now working on the solid leather belt that kept her pants over her hips.  Chrome broke the kiss with a chuckle.

            “Ya’know you’re the only bitch I’d fuck without a condom on.”  When he looked at her, woefully compliant, all he could see was her disdain.  Thane glowered.  Halted, it was the man that slid off of the woman.  He then reached for his pipe and left.