Category: Mairi

Trev: Driven by unspeakable shame, he inexplicably heads back to see Sal. Rain slashes his face as a vicious wind whips a steel gray sky. He doesn’t notice.

Mairi: Unconscious on the cold floor, her head in a small pool of dark blood. She tried to stop Trev from going. He punched her in the face.

Emy: Her new found sensitivity to sound is driving her insane. She is currently floating her agitated arse in an isolation chamber. She holds her brooch in her hand, realizes she can no longer see her mother and starts to punch the side of the chamber. No one can hear. Blood drips from her knuckles. She starts to smile as salt stings her open wounds.

Cait: Sitting in the study with the Commander and Tom. She has been informed of the circumstances and looks on as the Commander outlines his plan. When the Commander mentions Kyra, Cait stands up and yells, “I will not have that bitch in my house!” Ariel appears in the doorway and all three adults turn in unison toward the small child.

Kyra: On her way to Duckhead. She is the plan. She sits in meditative silence on the private transport oblivious to the multi-hued lights flashing by.

Von: Refused to take no. He is with Kyra. His left hand has a firm grip on his right. It shakes anyway.

Rog and John: Making idle conversation. The Matutinal Mercy has not yet been delivered. The room is ice cold. Neither notice.

Yul: Still in hospital. Too high to wonder why. Too low to care.

Kieran: Closely watching events unfold.

The Unknowns: Closely watching Kieran.


Stains of Scarlet

Trev woke. He showered. Shaved. Ate breakfast. Returning to the restroom, he spend the rest of the morning puking his guts out. When there was nothing left to vomit, he worked his abs until they ached with dry heaves. His throat burned with his own acid. He tried to blow his nose. The smell refused eviction.

“You okay in there,” asked Mairi as she banged on the door in her silk robe and bare feet. She wore nothing underneath. Her red hair, like the rest of her, looked pert.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” His response seemed oddly strained.

“Trev? Open the door.”

“I said I’m fine. Please leave me alone.”

Mairi quietly leaned forward. Putting her ear to the door she heard nothing but her own breathing. “Trev? Oh my Janus!” She felt it first. Something warm, slippery yet sticky, not water, thicker yet thinner it felt at the same time. There was a moment, a gap, between the scarlet ribbon slipping under the door and between her toes and the recognition of something terribly wrong. The gap was less than a second but seemed long enough for a thousand thoughts to race through her mind.

Trev coughed, a cough deep, a cough sounding more like gurgling than the dry heaves of a moment before. The sound of Mairi’s voice seemed distant, reminding him of his mother calling his name at the pool as he swam underwater. He didn’t want to come up. He was in another world now. Land and sea. How could one understand the other? And so he floated on waves of consciousness untouched, feeling a gentle pulling as if the hands of Janussaries (Hynerian angels) were carrying him away.

Mairi pounded on the door. “Open the door. Now!”

She couldn’t touch him now. He was in the water. She wouldn’t follow him into the deep. He felt warm. Hues faded to pastels and sound lost all range of high and low. He was in the flow now and the flow would take him wherever the flow went.

Mairi’s heart raced. Taking a step back, she hurled herself against the door, her feet bloody with the life of Trev, cells dying in step with hope. Images of stains filled her mind. Stains of the body, stains of the mind, stains of the soul. Janus she hated stains. Her small lithe body was as feather pounding rock against the door. Falling to her knees in step with tears down her cheeks she began to sob as mothers sob for children, her head heavy in her hands as if guilt were lead. In anguish she cocked her head to bang the object of resistance and fell forward as the door swished open and where there was one bloody body upon the cold stone floor, now there were two.

First Time

Ed note: Title is a triple play. In a literal sense, this is the first time Mairi kisses Trev. From a story point of view, this is the first chapter literally written in the comment section of the preceding chapter. And, this is the first time I have used an image previously used in the story, albeit with a slightly different hue adjustment. Enjoy.

Trev’s breathing stabilized, a good sign thought Mairi. Spreading her fingers like a web on the underside of his head, she lifted with the care of a mother lifting her baby while with a gentle skill that belied her training, secured a blindfold with her right hand. As egg to crate, she lowered his head on the soft pillow, a sight, she thought, more delicious and tempting than it ought to be.

Chatelaine training taught that smell, of all the senses, caroused with memory and the moments to come, she knew, would be moments of healing that would need to be cultivated far beyond the moment of capitulation. Placing small warming tablets on either side of the bed, the sensual aroma of willowbrush gently rose as if awakened from sacred slumber. Breathing deep, she closed her eyes, and a thousand images flashed before her mind like cards shuffled. With each out breath, the images slowed until the one she needed, the one she wanted, appeared in clear focus, floating in subservience.

Slipping back into bed, her legs, smooth and neither too long nor too short, ran the length of his, her toes taking the measure of his sigh inducing muscle of youth; her hands traced lightly his wounds of days past, her eyes marveled at his chiseled jaw and angular cheek, looking more like marble than flesh. Her lips found his, the warmth, the softness, the slippery wetness, the firmness, the intensity, the passionate energy as her eyes closed and the soft warm light reflected off her eye lids reminiscent of a dual moonrise on the beaches of Valla. Her hair fell into his face, her thumbs to his temples; and her lips moved beyond skill, sucking, biting, gliding, teasing, suckling, wrapping, brushing, pushing, molding, of breath shared as moans escaped.

With lips locked in a living dance as angels or devils might in a moment of reprise, Mairi breathed her mind into his, a mind tender in abuse, aching for embrace, fearful of hurt. As a warm blanket covers a cold and frightened child, she gently began to massage his centers of pain and memory, milking them of power, kneading stress from neurons inflamed. As her tongue traced the row between his lips so did her mind dance and dart to soothe concern and hold fear at bay long enough to wrap her intent around his desire as tongue around a lollipop.

Trev’s mind begin to response and Mairi went deeper. Later Trev would write this in his journal:

Then I think about her slipping into my mind and what a good mind-frail would be like and I imagine the most delicious and intense wet dream, the utter stickiness, the musky-sweet aroma of release, taken with a caress of neurons in ways the hands can only admire. I imagine her chest heaving with life, rising with curves divine, creating their own eclipse; and in the shadow of my surrender, a tenseness rendered with the crack of a whip, the slap of a glute, the exhilaration of being rode, hard.

The kiss has an energy that sends a shock from lip to eye and stirs emotion in the gut as only first love can. Lights swirl as flesh paints with passion upon flesh and hands talk in touches like feathers on silk. Her tongue narrows and darts with a playful precision and I follows her lead to places shared by few and desired by many. The bed seems to sink, to envelope us as if the sheets rose as waterfalls port and aft. Golden hide graces porcelain digits as spoon to warm honey and endearments announce as gates open and trumpets play for an audience of two.

I lean my head back and press hard into my pillow, as if to brace myself that all before me could be but a dream. She lifts her chin and looks down from the bottom of her eyes, her regal nose triumphant, her lips slightly parted, glistening with lust raw and pure; and with a feline arching of back, tosses her short auburn locks and closes her eyes as curtains between acts. Her tongue glides over her pert upper lip as her hips settle into position, moving and rotating as if greased, as if control was quartered not granted.

With Considerable Effort

With considerable effort, Mairi carried Trev into her quarters, his neck hanging limp in the valley of her left elbow, and gently placed him on her bed. He looked younger than he was, or was it innocent and childlike; she couldn’t quite decide. His hair was matted and his eyes looked crusted with sleep, at least that is what she tried to tell herself. The idea that a grown man had cried the tears she knew he had cried, in shame or pain or, as she knew, both, knocked at a door of her heart she would rather not unlock.

His tunic, once white, looked more like a painter’s canvas of dark gray’s and textured browns and the buttons were mismatched as if manipulated by fingers rushed and too large for the task. Flashes of fists and kicks struck like lightning and faded just as quick leaving ghostly imprints in her mind. With care, or haste, she could not recall, she slowly released each button, pealing back his shirt. His nipples looked bruised and slightly swollen with ruddy concentric rings that implied stimulation gone wrong. A strange whey paste-like substance flaked to the touch and visions of forehead straining against leather, of veins bulging as eyes narrowed in the smiling windows of another’s wickedness sent a shiver up her arm and into her chest.

Lifting first the left arm and then the right, she eased Trevor’s shirt from his dirty shoulders and tossed it to the floor. Reaching for the warm wet cloth from the wooden bowl on the side of the bed, Mairi cocked her head as if the mere position could somehow soften the touch of rag to skin and communicate care and love. Her eyes watered as each pass of cloth removed a layer of yesterday from Trev and overwhelmed her own mind with screams and terror mixed with pleasure and slaps as piece after piece of his ordeal danced with horrid grins before her still burned out mind.

Black water filled the bowl as rag released pain into the cleansing basin. Moving with tenderness, she unbuttoned his trousers. Pulling from his ankles, she removed the soiled garment and tossed it to the side of his discarded tunic. The back of his legs showed reddish purple welts, each a testament to a cruel darkness. Sliding her pristine copper nails under the waistband of his shorts, she pulled them gently over the firm tautness of his young flesh. She had never seen Trev nude before nor had she ever seen such a magnificent body abused and beaten so mercilessly. Falling to bended knee, Mairi placed her hands upon his cold and trembling chest and whispered supplications of forgiveness.

Wiping salty petition from her eyes, Mairi examined the focus of wickedness past. What was flesh and what was blood, was not easy to surmise. With strokes tender and grasp light, Mairi washed and caressed his divine manifestation with the punctilious care of the discalceate before alter. Her hands lingered, letting her warmth become his and as blood begin to flow, her mind throbbed with his agony in step with the rising tumidity in her hand. She sighed, of relief or surprise, she would not say. He was magnificent in repose, his battered body bent but not broken, bruised but not forgotten. Why she had never noticed him before, in this way, she could not explain.

With a fresh bowl, she went to work again with her cloth and from head to toe, cleansed his body as if the healing waters would absolve her guilt, each pass of cloth a prayer. When she was done, she stood, and releasing the bow that held her dress in place allowed it to fall to the floor as a parachute to ground. Nestling Trev’s head to her warm bosom she placed her right leg over his tender and abused agent of masculine surrender as her fingers combed his hair and pulled him tight. Tremble responded to tremble as cold melted into warmth and the story of Mairi and Trev intertwined as strands of rope, giving strength and comfort in union.

Commentary: With Considerable Effort

Soundtrack for this chapter: Un Giorno Per Noi (Josh Groban)

Ed note: The following bits and pieces surfaced on the flight yesterday. They may or may not have happened in the story. The image is what I call “Place Your Bets,” an allusion to which bits below you think really happened.

Internal Affairs visited Cait. They wanted to know where John was. Said something about a chip.

Mairi finds Trev. He’s a mess. Camera pans away with Mairi holding Trev in her arms like a frightened child, her hair blowing in the wind. She is wearing a long pleated skirt with a mustard colored blouse offsetting her auburn locks.

Dr. X discovers that Châtelaine’s undergo three months of training to communicate with their eyes.

The signal Rog recognizes comes from Kyra’s Zing Tao ring.

Taren is forced to destroy the ring, and under duress has to do it in front of Kyra.

This unleashes a side of Kyra never seen and she destroys the entire compound.

When no one is left alive, she collapses in a heap as a light is seen around her–Kieran.

When Mairi finds Trev he has blood caked on his upper lip, his eyes stare unblinking, lifeless; he can’t form coherent words or thoughts. His body feels strangely cold and he trembles uncontrollably.

Mairi puts hands on his head, closes her eyes and has flashes of his mind. She cries, something a hardened Châtelaine would never do.

Kyra spares Taren, barely. The number of dead in the compound count into the hundreds as she moved of body and mind.

Von said it was the most terrifying and beautiful birth he had ever seen.

Emy couldn’t talk about what she saw for months.

Mairi feels guilt at encouraging Trev to sow his oats.

BC is pissed Lil’ let Trev go and not kill him.

Kieran holds Kyra as Mairi holds Trev–tells her he has someone that wants to say hello, someone that did not take the last ship out of dodge.

John writes in his journal that “After the Kyra Incident” he is losing his moral compass with Cait.

Mairi looks to the heavens and cries out, “My Janus, what have they done to you.” Tears streak down her cheeks and she looks back down at Trev’s blank stare and through her tears she utters, “My dear child.” She wipes his hair away and shaking her head says, “How will you ever forgive me?” She is rocking back and forth as a mother might rock a frightened child to sleep.


Kieran says she can’t directly connect with him but that he can act as a conduit.

Message from Papa: “We can still get there from here.”

Von: (Looks at Rog) I hope you brought some snoot?
Rog: I did.
Von: Good Hynerian.
Rog: I drank it–all.
Von: (deadpans)
Rog: But I have a plan.
Von: Yeah?
Rog: Looks at John.
John: What?
Von and Rog: (Start laughing)

I Love You, I’ll Kill You by Enigma is the Soundtrack for “The Kyra Incident.”

Interview from Earth:

T: Can you explain what happened?

K: Taren’s hammer was like a pickaxe. The down stroke to Papa’s ring broke, and I shiott you not, to my mind’s eye, I saw it as clear as day, but broke layer upon layer of inhibition and doubt while harnessing a synergistic melding of practice, theory and application that took years of pieces and in an instant painted, how would you say it, a Mona Lisa.

T: Wow.

K: Don’t ever say that word again in response.

T: Okay.

K: (starts laughing) I’m just shiotting you. Bring more whiskey–nine glasses.

T: (just smiles)

With Bitter Verve

“Morning Yul, how are you?” asked Mairi.

Yul moved her eyes without moving her head giving Mairi a look as cold as a witch’s tit.

“I did what I had to do.”

Yul pulled her hand away.

Mairi sighed.

“I want you to leave.”

Mairi looked without expression.


Mairi started to speak, stopped and then said, with effort, “As you wish.” She walked to the door and before leaving looked back. “Yul?”

Yul did not response.

“Frail you you ungrateful betoch,” said Mairi, with calculated bitter verve. She didn’t wait for a response she knew wasn’t coming.

Recommended soundtrack for this chapter: Bonnie Somerville’s Winding Road

Alternative soundtrack: Yungchen Lhamo’s Fade Away

Categories: Story, Yul, Mairi

Trev, prone, naked and secured by ankle and wrist, swallowed the fifth sip, with a little help from Lil’s firm hand fisting his hair. Sal moved to his prostrated rear and slapped her tight and taut boy like a farmer slapping a side of beef. His flesh was warm, unlike her own species; and he had an instrument, full and ripe, alien and exotic, that seems to pulse and throb and hang with a certain sense of living heft as if his heart were in his arse rather than his chest.

Mairi sat with the quiet patience of a weary cat in a sunny window, content to let Yul sleep as long as she liked. The operation, the doctors had said, somewhat nervously, had gone better than expected. More tests would be run later, they said. So she sat and rubbed her head but succor eluded the feeling of being sunburned from the inside of her skull. Dr. X promised she would heal, fully. She still thought he was a complete bastard.

John played the signal again. Rog listened. John looked. Rog listened some more with the look of a school boy trying to convince his teacher he knew the answer when he really didn’t. John played it again. Rog, blessing his own hide, yelped for effect, and did a little dance; his eyes shown with recognition fueled by hope. John just shook his head.

Ariel crawled into Cait’s lap, the soft light of a reading lamp holding the pair in the warm repose of mother and child. Cait held back a sigh as Ariel nestled in tight to her chest, pushing her little head and primrose hair into the twin softness of living pillows. Turning the page, she read slowly, trying to lose herself in the story, trying to crowd out the anger in her heart until she heard her daughter sigh and she realized she had not turned the page for quite some time.

+My dear friend, we meet again.+

Kyra opened her eyes as one to light after many days in a cave. There was a voice, but no one was there. She looked for Em and Von but they were not there either. The room was white and rather bright, the edges fuzzy and from somewhere in her heart, she would later swear, was a taste of things past and a remembrance of things to be.

Kieran? Is that you?”

Categories: Story, Kyra, Trev, Mairi, Yul, John Discovery, Rog, Lil’ Twilight, Ariel, Cait


Yul drifted into sleep, her head turning softly away from Mairi on the pillow as if, from slumber, she sought separation, distance, a final act of submission. Mairi looked up in supplication as those who prostrate themselves look down in mercy, her lower lids as dams staining to hold back her own doubt and fear and anger and regret. As Yul’s hand fell slack, the dam burst. +My Janus, I can’t do this. Damn you! Do you hear me, I can’t do this.+

Mairi cried and to the extent her countenance betrayed torment and dismay, Yul’s placid pale visage paid homage to lakes calm in twilight. Taking the back of her trembling fingers, Mairi brushed Yul’s silver hair from her cheek. Bending over she kissed the crest of her dimple and whispered words neither recorded nor remembered.

Three hours later:

+You did well my dear Chatelaine+

+Frail you, you frailing whore of children forgotten and abandoned.+ Mairi sobbed uncontrollably, her head pounding from the inside out as she shook as patients burning with fever shake from cold.

+You did all I could have asked, all anyone could have expected. And soon, you will love me again as only a Chatelaine can love the art of grace and execution, of passion controlled by mind and whipped by heart.+

+You lie with daggers dull and crooked; and if I had my wits I would hurl venom and hatred as the unkind do in confrontation with difference. I will never forgive nor forget, my liege, the obligation I owe to one so blessed with duplicity and greed.+

Dr X smiled. +I knew talent when I saw it, and you, my dear, are a gift beyond my dreams.+

Mairi lay on the ground, soaking wet, her eyes blurry, her immaculate makeup smeared almost beyond recognition.

+Rest my darling Null.+

Doctor #1: What happened?

Doctor #2: I have no idea. What does the tape show?

Doctor #1: You’re not going to believe this.

Doctor #2: What?

Doctor #1: It’s blank.

Categories: Story, Yul, Mairi, Dr. X


With heavy eyes and slurred speech Yul spoke through the early stages of the anesthesia, surgery approaching at the top of the hour.

“Mairi. Are you there?”

“I’m here darlin.” Squeezing Yul’s hand she repeated, “I’m here.”

Yul tried to smile. “Do me a favor. If I don’t make it—“

“Don’t say that. You’re going to make it. I—“

“Please, let me finish.” Yul’s voice seemed distance and getting weaker by the moment. “Tell them I understand. Tell them I forgive them. Tell them I love them.”

Mairi leaned over and kissed her forehead as Yul gave in to the persistence of her leaden eyelids. “I will.”

Categories: Story, Mairi, Yul

Like a Bull

Lil’ handed Trev a clear v-shaped glass with a narrow stem. Five different liqueurs, five different colors, each maintaining horizontal integrity shimmered in the soft glow of Lil’s quarters.

“I’m not thirsty,” said Trev. “And–“

Lil’ licked her crimson lips, slowly. “I think you are.” Placing her delicate and perfectly manicured finger under the stem, she slowly lifted the glass toward Trev’s parting lips. Neither broke eye contact with the other. “Five sips, sixty seconds apart, and then–“ Lil’ smiled with dimple and eye.


“The wonder of modern chemistry. The first liqueur, the sapphire one, drink up, massages the pain centers in your frontal lobe.” Seeing Trev’s reaction, she added, “No worries my sweet, before you feel anything, it will be time for the second liqueur, the golden one. Let’s just say you’ll experience something akin to warm honeyed aloe soothing the throbbing in your temples. Your mind will go slightly fuzzy, but only until the third liqueur, the emerald one.”

“Is this safe?” I mean—“

“Trevor,” whispered Lil’, her nails tracing the outline of his reddening cheeks, “if your heart stops beating, I’ll personally get it started again. And Trevor, I’ve never failed in that endeavor.” She squeezed his thigh.


“And Trev?”


“If you interrupt me again I may just cut off your gonads before you get to the fifth.” Lil’ smiled, “Time for the second.” He drank the golden liqueur. “Good boy. Now, the emerald potion will make you feel warm, all over. You’ll feel on the verge of wetting yourself and that is where the fourth liqueur comes in, assuming, of course, you don’t actually wet yourself. Now, you wouldn’t loose control right here in front of me, would you Trev?”

Trev started to speak but Lil’ stopped him with her finger. Nodding her head, Trev followed suit. “Good. Now, the fourth, the citrine one. Goes straight to the centers of fear and control in your brain, the very one’s the third elicits, and loosens, as they say, the ties that bind. Only once the fourth liqueur takes effect, will you be ready for the fifth.”

Trev’s comm started blinking. Lil’ quickly slipped it from his waist to her pocket.

“The fifth, my sweet friend, which by the way, only works in conjunction with the first four, is nothing less than a pure shot of adrenalin.” Lil’ paused. “To your agent of masculine surrender. How should I put this? At this stage, you’ll feel like a bull in the chute, or so it seems from my perspective, not that I’ll be complaining.”

Trev was in stage two and his mind started to slip. Lil’ took his hand. He followed. There would be no china broken on her watch. Sal was waiting.

“Mairi, is he on his way?” asked Yul, trying hard to keep her eyes open.

“Yes he is,” lied Mairi.

“Good. I want Trev here, by my side during the operation.”

“Get your rest darlin’. I’ll let you know as soon as he arrives.”

Categories: Story, Lil’ Twilight, Trev, Mairi, Yul