slayer_fray: (twincest)
I've never been alone. Not really, not ever. Because he's always been there. I mean, we shared a womb, for rut's sake. You can't really get away from someone after that.

As kids, we'd do everything together. I was muscle, he was smarts. And he'd do anything I told him to, as well. He'd follow me everywhere. And I'd lead him everywhere. Never wanted to leave him. He was my everything.

Then one day I led him to his death.

When I woke up the next day, I thought I was alone, and it was the scariest feeling I've ever had in my life. My world had been ripped in two; it felt like half of myself had been killed under that monster's teeth. Erin blamed me of course – it was my fault – and I was on my own for the first time ever.

But I guess I was wrong. Four years later I was kidnapped by lurks and dragged off to their secret base, only to discover that my brother had been living – OK, un-living – all that time, watching me. And I know that he's still watching me, whatever I do. Waiting for me to fall.

OK, it's not a particularly warm fuzzy answer to the question, but what do you want me to say? That day I looked up through the pain and the concussion to see my twin brother looking down at me, looking exactly as he did the day he died. That day he beat me just to see me cry. That day he showed me how I'd helped him get the things he needed to open the gateway to hell, and kill everyone I knew and loved.

That day I knew I wasn't alone. That I'll never be alone.

Not until I kill him.

Muse: Melaka Fray
Fandom: Joss Whedon's Fray
Word Count: 299
slayer_fray: (just one girl)
Over the last year, did things go pretty much as you'd expected or planned, or did your life take a significant, unexpected turn? Overall, was it a good year or one that you want to put behind you as fast as you can?

OK, let's see, shall we?

This time last year, I was a doing pretty well for myself. Had a steady job – sure, most people wouldn't think running for a fish was a jake career path for a young woman in her prime, but what the rut do they know, huh? I was getting a reputation, making more money than I was spending for the first time - well, ever, I think. Even had a few friends.

Significant, unexpected turn? How about a shortass bald guy turning up in the warren and spinning some toy about being the chosen one before setting himself on fire? How about a seven foot goat demon showing up in my apartment and telling me the same thing? How about discovering I'm some sort of superhero whose supposed to save the world from vampires? How about discovering what vampires actually are?

How about having my dead twin brother turn up out of the blue and try to end the world? How about having to carry the dead body of a five year old girl from my apartment to her parents? How about leading a bunch or thieves and whores and rutting cops in the turfwar to end all turfwars? How about being eaten by a rutting snake?

How about actually having a civil conversation with my sister?

Right now? I'm doin' pretty well for myself. Got a steady job. Got a reputation. Got the laws off my back. Got a pet demon, for rut's sake. Friends – less of them now, death's a bitch. Respect? Got that in spades.

Good year? Egh, I've had worse.

Muse: Melaka Fray
Fandom: Joss Whedon's Fray
Word Count: 268
slayer_fray: (twincest)
Hey kiddo,

Look, I know you're not going to care what I say here. I know you're gonna try and laugh this off. Because I'd think this was spun too, and I'm you. But bear with me here, 'kay?

OK, y'know that thing where the all the other kids accuse you of being a pump? Where you can hit harder and run faster than anyone else? Where if you're not around, they give Harth grief for you bein' able to do all that stuff? Well, I got news for you, kid. You're a superhero.

OK, by now you've probably thrown this away. But now you're back. Because you've remembered there was more and you want to find out what it was – even if you're not going to believe a word of it because this is all toy. Glad we understand each other. So I'm just going to give you a whole bunch of advice )

- Mel.

Fandom: Joss Whedon's Fray
Muse: Melaka Fray
Word Count: 535
slayer_fray: (cold)
You don’t.

It just ain’t an option. Don’t lose control. Ever.

Lose control in the middle of a fight, you die. You hafta keep focused, all the time. Let the fight flow through you, be the Slayer, what you were born to do. Lose control, let some lurk or a demon get the upper hand, and it’ll be the second last thing you ever lose.

Lose control in a bar fight, forget you who are, what you are, forget what you’re fightin’, and the next thing you know you’ve swung a suckerpunch at some norm and put their head through a wall. And you’ve got the wrong sort of blood on your hands, again.

Lose control on a job, slip up for a second, cross a beam, trip a wire, and you’ll blow the whole thing, lose the job, ruin your reputation and your boss’s (this is the worst. Fishstick’ll never forgive a foul like that), and probably end up in cell.

Lose control in life, let someone get close, start carin’, and all you’re doin’ is markin’ a target for the lurks that wanna hurt you. Through the people close to you. Can’t afford that.

Losin’ control?


Fandom: Joss Whedon's Fray
Muse: Melaka Fray
Word Count: 199
slayer_fray: (welling up)
Mel doesn't look in mirrors all that often. )

Muse: Melaka Fray
Fandom: Joss Whedon's Fray
Word count: 577
slayer_fray: (unamused)

No kidding. I usually think: egh.

This is because most of the time, when I’m lookin' in the mirror, it's because I’m cleaning off blood or lurk dust (never could get the hang of the whole 'turning into dust' routine – how spun is that?) or some other grime. What can I say? I get dirty. A lot.

Then I clean off the blood or the dust or whatever, and turn away. Oh sure, sometimes I debate gettin' an eyebrow ring or my ears done again, or perhaps I should get my lips or hair done a different colour, but usually I just get clean and get on with my life.

Because I’ve got better things to do than stare at my own reflection.

'Sides, I gave up my right to look into those eyes five years ago.

Muse: Melaka Fray
Fandom: Joss Whedon's Fray
Word count: 139
slayer_fray: (yeah right)
If you could find out one single fact about every person you met, what fact would you want to know?

Am I gonna hafta killya?

I just think that's the thing that can affect a relationship the most, y'know? It'd be goodta have that out at the beginning: Are y'evil? Willya try and kill my friends, threaten my world, bring about the apocalypse, any of that toy? 'Cause ifya are, I'd liketa get the killin' over and done with right away

The Slayer's supposedta get this special feeling about evil thin's. She should be able to detect lurks an' stuff usin' her instinct alone. Useful skill, that, 'cause lurks can look like normal humans if they wanna. Mosta them don't, nowadays, but they can, like Harth does. Me, I'd be happy just bein' able t'tell a normal demon from a radie, given the people I deal with on a daily basis. But no, I'm special. That part of the Slayer package went to big brother. For me, each time's a judgment call.

An' it's not exactly somethin' y'can ask straight up, is it? “Hi, goodta meetcha. Are y'evil?” Not really the best way t'start an acquaintance, right? Never mind that most people would lie. Or take too long t'answer. I'm tellin'ya, y'don't know pain until you've heard a hired thug goin' on about the subjectivity of morality and the 'false dichotomy of good and evil', whatever that toy's supposedta mean. I just wanna know if I'm gonna end up killin' ya. Don't need a lecture.

'Cause there's nothin' more annoyin' than meetin' someone, getting' t'know 'em, workin' with 'em, maybe even formin' a friendship, then havin' em murder someone you were supposedta look after, and you havin' t'kill them. That can really ruin your day, and I'd like it to stop happenin'.

'Course, it's always more complicated than that. But I kinda wish it weren't. Much as I like my life, much as I enjoy the fight, my job, bein' the Slayer, it'd be rocketship if it were all much simpler. If people would let me know right away: Am I gonna hafta kill 'em?

Muse: Melaka Fray
Fandom: Joss Whedon's Fray
Word count: 358
slayer_fray: (twincest)
Talk about the time that you realised that someone close to you was not the person you thought you knew.

I thought he was dead.

Of course, technically, he still is. But also not, y’know. Undead. Infected. However y’want to call it.

Harth. My brother. If I started now on our childhood together, the stuff we did together, how I remember him, who he was, I’d never stop. I looked out for him. Took care of him. I loved him. I lived for him. Then he died. We were fifteen.

I sometimes wish I could say some toy about a part of me died as well, but that’s not me. I dealt with it. Not very well, sure. Did some stuff I probably ought’a regret. If y’know, I was inta the whole regret thing. But after four years, I was starting to get used to bein’ on my own. Movin’ on, gettin’ a job, all that toy. Then, I find out I’m the Slayer and two days after that I’m face to face with my dead twin brother. Big week, all told.

My brother, lookin’ exactly like he did when he died. And the things he said, the threats he made, the promises.

“Everyone you love will die screaming”

I kept telling myself that he was only sayin’ these things because he was infected: because he was a lurk. My brother, the Harth I grew up with, he would never say those things. Never take the delight I saw in his eyes when he hurt me.

Kept tellin’ myself it was the demon speaking. Hafta tell myself that. My brother never chose to become a vampire. Would never mean what that monster was saying with his mouth.

My brother is dead. He still is. I have to tell myself that, or I’ll go insane.

Muse: Melaka Fray
Fandom: Joss Whedon’s Fray
Word Count: 284
slayer_fray: (B&W Mel)
The same way everyone else does, o’course.

Oh, y’mean, who, where, when? OK. Not that I ever thought it that important, but whatever.

After Harth died, I left Erin. Never went home after bein’ discharged from the beds. Grabbed t’eat. Slept where I dropped. I didn’t need family anymore. Was on my own.

I was fourteen. He was mid-thirties. Said his name was Case. I never got a last name. Don’t know if he even told the truth about his first.

I can’t remember if I believed he loved me, or even if I believed I loved him. It was a place to stay, a table to eat off, a warm body next to me. After fourteen years of sharin’ a bed - even with your brother - y’kinda miss it when it’s gone, y’know?

It was nothin’ special, ruttin’ away every night. Didn’t hurt or nothin’, even when I bled, but nothin’ to write home about - if I had been talking to my sister. I did some grabbin’ for him as well, bringin’ home food an’ stuff.

After about three weeks, I came back t’find him with a friend of his. Pump. Not as souped up as some’a the guys y’get in Versi, but an ugly creep anyway. And Case tells me that if I sleep with this guy, he’ll pay me three koi. Ruttin’ creep’s been pimpin’ me out to his buds.

I left that room five minutes later, wiping cartilage and blood from my fist. I never heard from either of them again. They were still breathing when I left though, I know that much.

Could never bring myself to care, though.

Muse: Melaka Fray
Fandom: Joss Whedon’s Fray
Word count: 275
slayer_fray: (determined)

Don’t scream.
Don’t think. Think equals scream.

That’s pretty much it. First time I saw Urkonn, I didn’t stop to think what he was, this beast in my rooms, didn’t stop to think what he wanted or why me, I just reacted. Tried to get away, get me some space.

‘Course, he  was stronger than me. Faster as well. Tough. I emptied a cartridge into him, would’a killed a human. Knocked him out for about a second. Like one of those kid’s spark guns. Threw me through a wall for that.

Really, he could’a killed me, that fight. One of the few beasts ever managed to best me. Not that he was tryin’ to kill me – the old beast just had a temper. I zap him with a gun blast, he wrecks my home. Never said he was well-adjusted. Just wanted to teach me about Slaying. And he did.

Within a week, I killed him.

Yeah, he taught me well.

Muse: Melaka Fray
Fandom: Joss Whedon's Fray
Word Count: 160

slayer_fray: (huh?)
Melaka Fray is a Slayer. She’s a thief. She’s a hero, a crook, a sister, an employee, a twin, a protector, a leader, sometimes a threat, often a nuisance, and for about a week, when she was fifteen, she was a whore.

That’s how people see her, and she’s fine with it. Labels are easier. Labels distance her from people she might hurt. Titles make her special, and separate. They make her unattractive to some, unobtainable to the rest.

She’s not looking for a romantic partner. She has no intention of falling into that trap. Never mind that trust isn’t a big theme in the warrens, bad things happen when Slayers get involved with anyone. Elaine, whose refusal to slay when her husband was taken away resulted in the death of her son; Claudine, tricked into murder through her love for her Watcher; and Buffy, who broke the gypsy curse, unleashing Angelus on the world again. No wonder most of the Slayers throughout history had sworn to celibacy.

Mel makes no such vow. It never occurs to her to do so. She fucks who she wants to, when she wants to, which is not many or often. But romance doesn’t get a look in. She’s a Slayer. Thief, hero, protector, and so on.

But when someone looks past that, and sees Melaka Fray, and convinces her that that’s as worthy a label as anything else, then she might reassess her outlook.

Muse: Melaka Fray
Fandom: Joss Whedon's Fray
Word Count: 241
slayer_fray: (blue)
“She’s nothing.”

Harth has just died. Erin blames me. Which is right, it was my fault.

I took him grabbin’. I was stupid. I took him straight to a waiting lurk and got him killed.

The crunch of his throat under its teeth. I’m never going to forget that. I dream that sound every single night. I dream the look on its face, him weakly asking me for help, and me falling the distance to the ground, all the time, hearing it chugging at his blood.

And Erin blames me. I’m the strong one, the fast one. The one that can fight. The one that should have protected him. And I didn’t. He’s dead. And it’s my fault.

She can’t look at me, knowing I’ve got our brother killed. I can’t look at her without knowing that I got our brother killed. She comes to visit me in the hospital and has nothing to say to me other than:
“You took him on a grab and you got our brother killed.” Which is true, but all I want is her to hold me, to forgive me, to tell me it’s going to be all right. She just leaves.

I never go home after being let out.

In one night I’ve lost my brother and my sister. My entire family.

I’ve never felt so alone.

Muse: Melaka Fray
fandom: Joss Whedon's Fray
Word count: 224
slayer_fray: (reflective)
Think about something you once wanted so badly but never acquired. Write about how you think your life would've been different if you had received what your heart desired.

Huh. Tough one.

I’ve never really wanted anythin’ really. I’ve always been one for living from day to day. I’ve never wished for anythin’ because I never expected to get it.

I know what I didn’t want. I didn’t want to lose my brother to a lurk at fourteen. I didn’t want to live for four years thinking him dead and then find out he’s undead, turned into a vampire. I didn’t want that. Anything but that.

If Harth hadn’t died, if I had been able to save him… everything would be different. Two halves of the same person, he always said. I was never sure if I believed that, but two sides of the same Slayer, sure.

I’d be a better Slayer with Harth by my side. With his dreams, his knowledge of Slayers, I think we’d be a rutting kickass team.

But, no point in dwellin’, is there? He’s not alive. He’s dead and some beast is walkin’ around wearing his body like a suit. And I’m gonna hafta kill him again.

No point dwellin’ on what might have been

Muse: Melaka Fray
fandom: Joss Whedon's Fray
Word count: 182
slayer_fray: (Default)
It’s gonna be a massacre.

My brother’s gonna try to open a gateway to bring the demon world into this one. He’s got an army of lurks coming, and he’s gonna raze the place to the ground. And all I’ve got is a demon buddy and a shiny new axe.

And Versi.

It seems the entire warren’s turned out for this thing. Amma. Jove. Loo’s parents. Loo who I failed to protect, whose body I had to bear back to them. They’ve shown up with weapons and a gun to fight for the warren. Kettie Rawls on his rocketbike. Tryin' not to laugh at me the scrawny little thief and superhero leadin' all these people willin' to go to their death.
Even Erin, and her cavalry of cops who’ve seen enough of the lurks. No idea what they've been told about what's comin', but wor'ds got round. This is the last stand, for Versi, for Haddyn, perhaps for the world.Everyone's turned up.

They’re gonna get slaughtered, but they’re going to fight. Alongside me, led my me, it doesn’t matter. I’m not proud of myself. I’m proud of Versi. I'm proud that my faith in people wasn't misplace. I'm proud of the people. My people.

They’re going to do what’s right.

Muse: Melaka Fray
fandom: Joss Whedon's Fray
Word count: 211
slayer_fray: (huh?)

OK, I decided the fish question was spun. not only was it offensive to piscine-Americans, but the people that I know probably aren't the people you know. So, although there are a few histroical figures Buffy Summers I would like to slap, I chose a question from the beginning.

Do you feel that you were born with a predetermined role in society? If so, how do you feel about it?

OK, the answer to that's obvious isn't it? Chosen one, right? That's pretty rutting predetermined. How do I feel? Great, I love it. Seriously, being the Slayer's rocketship. It's fun.

But if I wasn't the Slayer? If I was just another thief running for just another radie in Haddyn, would I feel the same way? And the answer there is: probably not. I don't think that it was inevitable that my mother would leave, or my father would die, or I'd get Harth killed and run away from Erin.

I don't think that I didn't have a choice. I don't think I was ever predestined to end up livin' in the slums, thieving for a living. I made decisions that led to it. I chose to take Harth on a grab the night that he died. I chose not to go home when I was discharged from the hospital. I chose to do those things I did afterwards. I chose to start working for Gunther.

So no, I don't think my role is predetermined. I don't think anyone's is. That would be far too depressing a thought. I chose to become a thief. I accept the consequences of those choices.

Muse: Melaka Fray
Fandom: Joss Whedon's Fray / BTVS
Word count (excl intro): 200
slayer_fray: (Default)
I'm thirteen. It's a clear night in September.

Well, I say clear - nothing's really very clear these days, is it? Well, not usually, but if you go up far enough, you can almost get out of the general smog of the city, and almost see the sky.

And that's where I'm taking Harth now.

Thing is, Harth has always been a fan of the sky he can't see. I'm happy in the city: at home in the three dimensional maze of buildings and vehicles, climbing and running and jumping like a monkey in the jungle on one of those historical nature scopes. Harth, though, he’ll sit for hours in front of the scope screen, just soaking it all in. He'll watch anything really, but he loves history. He'll watch anything that has men on horses or girls in skirts: sword fights, romance, honour: he loves that toy.

But mostly he loves the sky. It's always so blue in the scopes, he says. Nowadays the sky over Haddyn's all sorts of shades of red and violet and yellow as pollutants mix with - well, other pollutants - in the air around the city. I don't mind it so much: I think it's dramatic, but Harth likes the blue from the scopes, and the stars. He loves that in the past they could see stars.

So, what better way to tell my brother I love him than to take him to see the stars? I'm not so spun as to try and get out of the protecting fog while the sun's beating down - I like my DNA as it is, thank you - but after dark, that's safe. The building I'm taking him to has an official name, I think, but I don't know it. We just call it The Needle. Anyway, it's big. Tallest in New York, by all accounts. Apartments, mostly. Folks rich enough to afford somewhere this far above the rest of the city, up above where the usual smog and cloud obscure the light, well, they don’t tend to want to become radies, so they don’t tend to have windows.

And that’s good, because then they can’t see me climbing up the outside of the building with Harth on my back.

Security’s tight, of course, place like this, but as long as there’s no windows, and no way of actually getting into the apartment, there’s nothing I can’t dodge, leap over, or avoid altogether. I’m gonna be a professional grabber one day, this is nothin’.

Harth’s clinging to me. He always was terrified of heights. But I’m not going to let him fall. His hands slip and I just grab onto him. I’d carry him slung over my shoulder if I wasn’t worried about him chucking down my back. That’s not the point, though, anyway. Climbin’s just getting there. And when we break out of the cloud cover, his complaints stop. I cover the last few yards quickly without his whines, and bring him to the top of the building.

“Oh, Mel!” He says, staring up at the sky above. “Look at it, Mel!”

I’m looking of course. That’s why I brought him up here, but I punch him lightly in the arm. “See, Scaredy, toldya it would be worth it!”

He won’t go near the edge of the roof of course, but sinks to his knees right in the center of the roof, head back, mouth open, just gaping at the sight. It’s kinda shiny, I guess. But when it gets down to it, it’s just black with white dots. Harth thinks it’s rocketship though, and that’s what matters. I sit down next to him, wrapping my arms arm around me for warmth and look up with him.

Harth leans back automatically so we’re lying down, and starts pointing out constellations. “That one there,” he says, “is Cassiopeia. She was the mother of Andromeda, and…” and he carries on with that for hours, telling me stories from his scopes that I have no way of telling whether he’s spinning me or not.

Erin’s gonna be skitzed when we get home. She’ll be skitzed we left without telling her and even more so next week when Harth accidentally lets slip we’ve climbed The Needle. She’ll yell at both of us, spin some line about how she’s doin’ the best she can but we need to be responsible, and Harth’ll be so upset about it that I’ll never be able to persuade him to go back. Within a year, Harth’ll be dead.

But I don’t know any of that now. Now, I’m just lying next to my twin brother, our arms around each other for warmth and comfort, staring up at the stars and listening to his voice.

That is the memory I want to take with me.

Muse: Melaka Fray
Fandom: Fray
Word Count: 801
slayer_fray: (Default)
Which are you more afraid of: Being too gullible and believing things that aren't true, or being too skeptical and missing out on something important?

Well, y’gotta be both, dontcha? Or neither. Find the balance, right? They’re both dangerous. But that’s not the question, is it?

OK, so which is more dangerous, then? This goes back to the trust thing from last week. Finding trust is a balance between gullibility and skepticalness. If you’re too gullible, you’ll trust people you shouldn’t. If you’re too skeptical you won’t trust people you could.

And that’s where the danger is. If you’re gullible, you’ll believe things and trust in things that you shouldn’t, and in this game, that’s dangerous. You wanna believe in something that’s not true, that could get you killed.

Sure, the skeptic can get killed. But he’s more likely to realise when he’s wrong. If you’re too skeptical, then that just becomes gullibility again. Refuse to believe that lurks are vampires? You’re being gullible and believing the stories that they’re a disease or whatever they’re spinning now. And that’s gonna get you killed.

So, what am I most afraid of? Gullibility, hands down. Because I’m not quite ready to die yet.

Muse: Melaka Fray
Fandom: Joss Whedon's Fray
Words: 176

[TM: Trust]

May. 4th, 2005 08:56 am
slayer_fray: (Default)
I once told my sister Erin that I don’t trust anyone. I’m still not sure whether I was telling the truth or not.

See, we were talkin’ about my boss, Gunther. He’d turned me into the laws, and Erin was telling me that I couldn’t trust him. Which is fair enough, but I found out afterwards he did it because he thought it would save my ass.

So I guess he was looking out for me, in his own way. He’s good people, Gunther, even if he is a fish. He’s not the sentimental sort, but he does watch my back, kinda. Even if he can be a little creepy sometimes, he’s not that bad. He’d not deliberately set me up.

Which brings me back to the trust thing. See, while it’s dangerous to trust anyone completely in this world, sometimes you gotta realise that you can trust one or two people more than most.

Did I trust Urkonn? The demon who acted as my watcher and killed a five year old girl to get me to work for him? Not really, no more than I trust most people. I didn’t leave her in his care or anything. She just turned up and I wasn’t there to help her.

But Gunther? I know Gunther. I reckon I have a good idea what goes on in his head nowadays, and I know he tries to do what’s right in his spun head. I guess that means I do trust him, really.

And Erin. ‘Cause you hafta don’t you? Trust family. We’re trying to rebuild our relationship: we were never that close growing up but now we’re all we each have. It’s something that happens when sisters band together to stop their brother destroying the world: they get closer. Trust’s a big part of that.

So I guess I wasn’t tellin’ the truth really. I was angry and stressed and blurted it out. Maybe I wouldn’t trust anyone to the end of the Earth or anything, but simple, day-to-day trusting of people you know and care about, that I can do.

Muse: Melaka Fray
Fandom: Fray
Words: 349


slayer_fray: (Default)

March 2013

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