Despairing Love

Time's Waltz

2006-11-23T01:53:04Z

Did I seriously not post this? I wrote this a while ago... Huh.

Whatev.

So I was on the Random DC-Verse Fic Scenario Generator, when I got this result:

Alfred Pennyworth (or other character over 50) / ...in a story about dancing

And I just HAD to write a drabble. I HAD to.

Title: Time's Waltz
Rating: G
Author: Lady Nilamarthiel
Summary: Alfred remembers when he used to waltz.

Alfred remembers when he used to waltz. When he was a young man, he used to have dates with ravishing redheads and buxum blondes and beautiful brunettes, and dance and twirl and dip the women low until midnight. Smiling, he remembered how furious his father would be when he got back to the mansion, and how Master Wayne would chuckle quietly and wink at him when his father wasn't looking.

He also remembers when Master Bruce first asked him to teach him to dance.

"Oh, no, Master Bruce, you wouldn't be interested in *that*," he had said teasingly, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Ohh, *please*, Alfred!" Master Bruce pleaded, clutching at his tux with small, pale hands, "I'd really like to learn!"

Of course, Alfred couldn't deny him anything. So he taught him everything he knew, from how to hold a woman properly and basic steps to advanced steps and how to protect your partner from hurting themselves in the case that they fall.

But now Alfred was too old for that sort of thing. His knees protest simply going up the stairs of the mansion. But seeing Master Bruce teaching Master Dick to dance, well... he felt as though he were dancing again. Still smiling wistfully, he puts his dancing shoes back in the old box and sets it back in the wardrobe.

Ho'shit.

2006-03-05T16:41:51Z

I logged out of my main livejournal account and into this one to write a fic. When I tried to log back into my main one, it wouldn't log me back in. Then I realized that I changed the password, but I couldn't remember it. I tried to get the password sent to my active e-mail, but the site said I couldn't because I used a different e-mail, which just happens to be inactive. What the hell. I'm realy mad now. Rawr. D:

Heh....sweatdrop

2006-01-04T22:30:13Z

Anyone wanna learn a bit more about me? No? Well, tough, because that's what is gonna happen. I mean, I may as well -- it made all of my family members/friends/teachers laugh like a million, er, laughing things.

(Work in Progress)

Chapter 1

Who am I?

Hmm... who am I, do you ask? I really don't know how to anwser this question. Not really. What is a person other than a physical shell and a soul?

...

Oh, hold on. I'm definately not the kind of person who waxes poet just to get a point across. Do you mind if I just cut to the chase?

My name is Lady Nilamarthiel, and I am a student at High School. I am an ornery, hostile, smart-alecky wanna-be writer with procrastination issues. I'm alarmingly short-tempered when hassled/nagged/aggrivated and incredibly so when I do not have my morning coffee. I have health issues that probably may make me Urgent Care's "Patient of the Year". I'm insecure and yet secure enough to admit it. (Does that make sense? I just don't know anymore.) I can be annoying to others, a drama queen, and a general nuisance to the public.

Now that I have the negative things out of the way, I am also compassionate, insightful, and passionate about issues that involve prejudice, intolerance, or injustice. I'm always polite to elders (not just the elderly). I try very hard on my work (although I do struggle with organization and attention to time) and when I do happen to get my work done, it tends to be quite fantastic. I'm loyal, almost obsessively so, but not so much that I have no life.

I have one brother (6 1/2) and two sisters (5 and 1). I am, obviously, the oldest of my mum's kids. They are all complete sweethearts, but they are also completely insane. They run around saying and doing the strangest things that make me think, are these children retarded? What is wrong with them? Plus, they are really loud. My brother is good at everything, has 20-20 vision, has the body that a surfer would have, has a green belt in TaeKwonDo, is one of the most popular kids in his class, is a complete flirt, and has already been on a PBS special featuring child dancers. You can tell that when he grows up he is either going to be very popular or a homosexual. My sister... I don't know what to say about her. She dances with my brother and sings in the church choir, but other than that she doesn't do stuff that my brother does. She is much quieter and seems to be afraid to try new things. She's adorable, though. My youngest sister (whose first birthday is today -- can you believe it?!) is a baby with squirming issues. No one can keep her in a high chair, play pen, or hold her for too long. She wants to be "free" and get into everything. She hates limits. What is also strange is that her birthday is the day after mine. (I wonder what that means. Hee!)

Well, what else is there to tell about boring old me? Absolutely nothing, so you may as well click off this memory book and be on your way. Or maybe you are a masochist and enjoy being bored to tears. If so, go ahead and plunge into the next chapter.

***

To be continued…

Dust, Just Dust

2005-11-22T20:39:50Z

Dust, Just Dust By Lady Nilamarthiel (aka Alatariel Surion) ***

I was just a little girl when my mommy left me on their doorstep.

"They'll take care of you, baby angel, and I'll see you again."

"You promise, mommy?"

"I promise. We'll have our own place as soon as I'm better."

You lied to me.

"I love you, baby angel."

You lied to me.

"You promise, mommy?"

"I promise."

You said you would come back! You promised! You forgot me, didn't you?

"I'll never forget you."

Didn't you?!

"I'll never forget you. I love you."

I hate you. You only told me the truth once.

"Goodbye. . ."

Now all I have are these padded walls in a white cell.

"Goodbye, baby angel."

I hate you.

"I love you. Goodbye. . . "
***

Dust, Just Dust Chapter 1 By Lady Nilamarthiel
***

George Maser walked briskly towards an elderly doctor holding a clipboard.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

"May I help you, sir?"

"Yes, doctor. I'm here to see Claudia Lypton. I have an interview with her today."

"Oh! You're that reporter. I'll take you to her room."

He started to lead George down the white marble hallway, passing men and women in white gowns being escorted by nurses. George followed wordlessly, just staring at the people tottering back to their rooms, some completely silent, others jabbering nonsensically.

They took a sharp turn to the right, and then a left, until they came to a long hallway pilled with doors with heavy-duty locks and small steel bars as windows.

"This is where we keep our most hopeless of cases. We rarely let them out. They're dangerous, these ones."

George frowned. "It sounds like you're talking about animals."

"They are. Ah! Here we are."

The old doctor pulled out a key, put in the lock of room 148A, turned it and unlocked the two large deadbolts at the top and bottom. He gestured to George to go inside.

Screams. Blood-curdling screams like someone was being tortured with hot knives. A woman with lank, waist-length black hair was strapped down to a stretcher while two large nurses were trying to keep her still while another, more sympathetic middle-aged woman was filling a syringe with sedatives. She injected it into the screaming woman's right arm as she sobbed and wailed. To George, it was the saddest, most heart-wrenching sight he had ever experienced.

Long moments passed, then she calmed down and spoke in a surprisingly childlike voice.

"May I get up now?"

The kind nurse smiled. "Of course, dear."

The other two nurses let her go and unbuckled the leather straps binding her wrists, ankles, and waist. She sat up, brushed herself off, and raised her arms like a toddler wanting to be carried. The nurses lifted her off the stretcher and onto a chair. She looked up at George with shining eyes and an innocent smile, and patted the chair next to hers. He took that as his cue, and sat down, adjusting the chair so he was directly across from her.

"Hello, Claudia. My name is George Maser. I've come to talk with you. Do you remember what Doctor Sariyah told you?"

Claudia grinned. "Yes."

George smiled and opened up the bag he brought along with him. He reached inside and pulled out a porcelain doll with a light blue frock and golden masses of curls.

"Ooh!" Claudia squealed, "Is that mine?" She held out her arms impatiently. He chuckled and handed the doll to this childlike person in from of him. He had no idea how she could possibly be what they say she is. She is much too innocent. Too pure, and mentally, too young.

He shook his head lightly and pulled out a recorder, a notebook, and a Bic pen out of his bag. He turned on the recorder. "Are you ready?"

Claudia looked up. "Yes."

"Alright. What is your name?"

"Claudia."

"And how old are you, Claudia?"

"Five."

George raised an eyebrow. Claudia was twenty-two. He made a note.

"When is you birthday?"

"Next Monday!"

"Really? That's nice."

"Yeah. They're going to give me balloons and everything!"

Oh, so innocent. Poor, poor thing. "Have you ever had a party before?"

"This will be my fifth birthday party."

"How long have you been five?"

"Forever."

"Where is your mommy and daddy? Do they come to your parties, too?"

Claudia looked at him angrily. "No. I have no daddy. Mommy left me with them. She told a bad lie when she said she would come and get me from them."

George was taken aback. "Who are they, Claudia?"

She smirked at him. "They're gone now."

His eyes widened. What?, he thought.

Rolling her eyes, Claudia giggled and stared him in the eyes, still with that innocent sparkle. "Don't be silly, silly! They've gone to live in Hell. They were demons, you know. Demons who hated little children, so they made them sleep outside with the pigs." Her expression swiftly changed to that of icy disdain. "All they wanted to do was breathe in that funny white powder and give themselves shots. They didn't make mommy come back. They made mommy forget that I existed!!" With a resounding wail, she threw the doll on the marble floor. The porcelain face shattered and skittered around. Horrified by what she had done, she stared wide-eyed into George’s face.

He stared right back at her with a similar expression. She did! She did kill them!

*** End

Well, Hello, there, stranger!

2005-11-12T00:49:38Z