Flames of Fate

Playing With Fire

[Author's Note: So! I hope you're liking Flames of Fate so far. I introduce a new character in this chapter that I hope you'll all love, so stay tuned! Again, thank you all for taking the time to read this - and please, leave me comments. I love to hear from you. And now, without further ado...chapter two!

Side-Note: I give up. My formatting refuses to cooperate on this chapter, so sorry for the lack of indentations like four paragraphs in.]

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Fate is a fickle mistress, and I am impatiently waiting to see if, when, and how it will turn on me like a rabid hyena. Nearly a week has passed, and my sisters and I have still not received a new assignment.

Two weeks, three days, and sixteen hours remain in the countdown to my final moment. My fate has still not turned tide, but there is still time. I am growing anxious, however, waiting for our next assignment to be handed down to us. For the first time, shore leave is making me stir-crazy. It is slowly driving me insane; much like cabin fever drives humanity insane, I should like to think.

I assume that, any moment now, we will be assigned our next case. Until that happens, though, my fate is uncertain. It hangs in the balance, unsure and yet seemingly bleak. Until then, however, I find myself dwelling on the past, and on the future I had taken for granted. The idea of having no future but death is more painful than I care to admit, and though socializing with humanity is frowned upon, I break down and decide to distract myself by doing so. What's one minor rule broken in the face of committing such a heinous crime as to be declared a traitor amongst your own people? Considering that was what I was facing, a little trip to the human world really didn't seem so bad.

With that thought reassuring myself, I made up my mind to seek comfort in much the same way that many humans do: in a bar. I curled my hair, did my makeup, and slipped into a Herve Leger red, gray, and black bandage dress and a pair of red satin pumps with a floral black lace overlay.

Bedlam had multiple floors. The top floor had a balcony overlooking the dance floor and the DJ; naturally, there was a bar on the balcony itself and one off to the side of the dance floor. The floor below was a sports bar and eatery, filled with televisions and tables. The basement, however, is where I headed: it is filled with pool tables, air hockey tables, foosball tables, and a stage.

Live music can be found in the basement of Bedlam on most nights, and tonight was no exception; the band was a local one called Maybe Mayhem, and as I downed my captain and coke, I couldn't help but stare. The lead singer was indescribably gorgeous, and something about the way he lost himself in the music spoke to the deepest part of me. The sensuality of his voice unwound inside of me, and like a whip uncoiling, I found myself ready for the mayhem after all.

His eyes captivated me. The color seemed ever changing; one moment they seemed pale green, the next they seemed vivid blue, and still the next they appeared to be a smoky gray. Everything about him was smoke and shadow, gunmetal and obsidian. When his uncanny eyes found mine, I found myself extremely aware of the fact that I myself am all ivory and ebony, alabaster and onyx. The insane notion that we clash sprung into my mind; that we are on opposite ends of the spectrum and thus have no business coming together, even briefly.

We are worlds apart in so many ways, and yet...something draws me to him. Something prevents me from tearing my eyes away from him, and something seems to draw his eyes back to me repeatedly. I feel like a moth being pulled to the flame, and for a moment, I believe that he must feel the same.

In my reckless abandon, I down another drink and smile at him. I almost instantly regret it, or at least that is what I tell myself later. The song finishes, and he calls a halt in the middle of the set. His band mates do a little grumbling about him changing the set, but they seem relatively unperturbed as they head for the bar.