osets

Jednog dana, kada poželiš da umreš

Jednog dana

Kada ti svega “bude dosta”

Kada ti život postane naporan

I sve tvoje želje se čine daleko, baš baš daleko

Jednog dana

Kada ne pronađeš sreću u svom postojanju

Kada ne budeš razumela ZAŠTO BAŠ TEBI; ZAŠTO BAŠ SADA; ZAŠTO BAŠ TO

Jednog dana

Kada budeš razmišljala o pilulama

Ili hladnom oružju

Jednog dana kada zažmuriš i vidiš svoju sahranu


Šta će tata reći mami kada te pronađe u kupatilu?

Šta će mama reći maloj sestri, zašto te nema čitav dan?

Kako će tata prestati da ti masira srce?

Kako će mama prestati da plače?

Kako će sestra prestati da te čeka?

Kome će tata dati dug zagrljaj i reči ,,Nek nemam dinara, al’ nek uvek imam vas"?

Kome će mama spremiti palačinke i reći ,,E ovo je poslednji put, od sad praviš sama", iako to nikada ne bude tako?

Kome će sestra čuvati tajne i reći ,,Biću ja jednom kao ti!“?


Šta će, kada te ne bude bilo, biti sa svetom?

Misliš li da on neće osetiti?

O da, hoće

Svet će osetiti borbu tvoga oca i jecaje tvoje majke

Svet će pucati nad čekanjem tvoje sestre

Svet neće razumeti

Svetu neće biti bolje

Ljudima neće biti lakše

Ni tebi, ni tebi neće biti jasnije, bolje ni lakše

Ti ćeš jednostavno prestati da postojiš

A pitaj svog tatu

Je l’ to bolje od borbe?

Pitaj svoju majku

Je l’ joj ikad bilo teško da živo?

I nakon svega

Pitaj svoju sestru

Šta vidi u tebi

I nemoj prestati da budeš to što ona vidi u tebi

Zagrli svoju drugaricu

Plačite tri dana

Ali četvrti dan ustanite, spremne za čitav život

Jer ništa nije lako

I ništa nije odjednom

Nikome

Nemoj da te nema

Nemoj da odustaneš

Ne budi tako sebična

Ne budi takva kukavica

Ostani, uprkos olujama

I oluje znaju da budu divne

Sve zavisi od toga kako ih gledaš

I kako se nosiš da njima


Nije rešenje skočiti
I neko će te shvatiti
Samo daj sebi šansu

Kako će tata nastaviti, kada zna da nije mogao da pomogne svojoj devojčici?
Kako će mama nastaviti, kada misli ,,Da sam samo rekla nešto”?
Kako će sestra nastaviti, kada ne zna zašto te nema, i kada te svaki dan čeka, i kada se pita ,,Je l’ to otišla jer sam joj uzela onu majicu?“
Ti nećeš nastaviti
Zato nemoj
Nemoj
Jer vredi nastavljati



-Sanja Mitrović, insa: obecao_si

Ej ti,
Pišem pismo koje nikada neće stići do tebe. Pametniji ljudi su mi rekli da će mi, kada stavim na papir sve što me  muči, biti lakše. Pa evo, okušaću svoju sreću, mada je teško i zamisliti da ćeš ikada prestati da nedostaješ. Rekli su mi: ,,Napiši sve što bi želio da ona zna!’’. Pa evo, sve što želim da znaš…Prošlo je šest godina, ima toliko toga što bih voleo da znaš ali ne znam ni sam odakle da počnem. Skratio sam kosu, znam da bi te to iznerviralo, osećao sam neku vrstu griže savesti dok je crvenokosa frizerka seckala deo po deo. Uvek si volela prolaziti prstima kroz nju, pogotovo kad se probudimo. Sećam se da si me zvala ‘raščupani dečak’, dok sam se ja pravio da mi to smeta. Sada bih menjao sve što imam da još jednom čujem te reči. Moja majka te spomene ponekad, ne toliko često, ali opet dovoljno da budem svestan da te ni ona ne zaboravlja. Kada bi samo mogla videti kako je bila prekorna prema Jeleni kada sam je prvi put doveo kući. Gledala je ispod oka, i pričala rezervisano, dajući mi do znanja da ni jedna neće biti ti. To i sam znam. Jelena…to mi je devojka, vreme prebrzo leti, prošlog meseca nam je bilo tri godine. Upoznao sam je na nekom seminaru, koji bi ti smatrala do bola dosadnim. I meni je bilo, priznajem. Ona je jedina dobra stvar koja se desila tog dana. Mlađa je od mene, sedam godina, to mi odgovara, mogao bih da kažem da je uz mene polako odrastala. Sada već ima 23 godine, završila je političke nauke, gleda me kao da očekuje da joj postavim ono pitanje, koje sam se zakleo da posle tebe niko od mene neće čuti. Premišljam se, voleo bih da mogu da te čujem, da mi daš savet, ti bi znala šta da radim. Uvek si znala.Ja sam dobro, valjda. Toliko puta sam to ljudima ponovio da sam počeo i sam u to da verujem. Sestra mi kaže da je iz mene nestalo svo moje ludilo, blesavost i energičnost. Pravdam se da sam samo odrastao, tako je ‘eto došlo sa godinama’. Ne veruje mi, znam.Prestao sam da sviram gitaru, svaki akord me podseća na tebe. Još uvek se sećam kada sam te učio da sviraš, odsekla si svoje duge nokte i došla mi u sobu kao pravi učenik. Dobro ti je išlo, sad ne mogu ni da se setim zašto smo prestali.Firma mi napreduje odlično, mogu da kažem da sam postigao i više od očekivanog za moje godine. Ti si mi uvek bila vetar u leđa, sećam se da sam bio jedno obično uplašeno dete kada sam ti prvi put rekao šta bih voleo u životu. Zvučalo je tako daleko, neostvarivo. A ti si uvek verovala u mene. Ta tvoja vera u mene je jedna od stvari koje mi najviše nedostaju.Reks sada ima osam godina, sećaš se kako je bio mali i smešan kada sam ga doneo kući prvi put? Sada je veliki, ostario je, nije više ono naše blesavo kučence koje trčkara kao da je uključeno u struju. I dalje podiže glavu i gleda levo desno kada mu spomenem tvoje ime. Ne voli Jelenu, ostaće veran samo tebi do kraja, u to sam ubeđen.Još uvek iznad kreveta stoji slika koju si mi poklonila, mnogo puta sam želeo da je negde sklonim, prečesto me podseti na tebe. Tu je i kutija, ispod kreveta, puna tvojih stvarčica. Mnogo puta su mi govorili da se toga rešim. Nisam mogao, želeo. Unutra su tvoje dve majice, obožavala si ih, tvoja četkica za zube, istrošena maskara i sveska u koju si hvatala beleške iz Krivičnog prava. Siguran sam da se nije rodila osoba sa ružnijim rukopisom, samo si mi jednom napisala pismo sopstvenom rukopisom, pa mi onda sama čitala jer ja nisam mogao. Sećam se koliko smo se tada smejali. Čuvam i to pismo, sada znam napamet i gde je koji zarez. Tu je i naš album za slike, Prag, Moskva, Dablin, Barselona, Pariz, Venecija, Rim, Madrid svi gradovi koji su bili svedoci tome koliko smo se voleli. Na nekim slikama me ljubiš, kada ih pogledam kao da mogu osetiti tvoje usne na mom obrazu, usnama. Kao da nikada nisi otišla.Nedostaju tvoji poljupci, zagrljaji, ljubav. Više se ne opijam kao u prve dve godine, doveo sam sam sebe u red, moje ponašanje je bolelo sve oko mene. A mene je bolelo, peklo i uništavalo tvoje nepostojanje onako podmuklo, iznutra. Trebalo mi je četiri godine da prestanem da vrištim u snu, šest godina da napišem ovo pismo, čitav život će trebati da te prebolim. I to će biti malo. Delić tebe će zauvek postojati u mojim mislima, tu si srećna, kao onaj dan kada sam te iznenadio odlaskom u luna park. Ta nasmejana devojčica je ono kako želim da te pamtim.Nešto mnogo veće od tebe i mene mi te oduzelo. Prokleta bolest, sećam se koliko si bila jaka i na samom kraju, jača od mene. Želim da znaš da nikada neću zaboraviti naše datume, trenutke, tvoj osmeh i miris tvog tela.Živiš ljubavi, dok sam ja živ…živiš.

Ja sam od onih što najviše ćute, kad najviše pričaju…
Od onih, koje nećeš shvatiti misleći da ih shvataš…

Ja sam od onih prefinjenih što vole da psuju,
od onih predobrih, koji postaju ohola zlopamtila kada ih rane…

Od onih što po njihovom biću lebde i beli i tamni oblaci…

Ja sam davljenik što se samo za svoju ruku hvata…

Ja sam od onih što otćute svoje najdublje istine,
da im ne bi narušio mir, ili ukrao dušu…

Ali… ja sam i ono dete izgubljeno na putu,
što vapi mnogo ljubavi…

Ja sam od onih što nikada neće otvoreno reći,
kuda plovi odjek njihovih misli…
A biće tužni ako ih ne shvatiš..!

Od onih, što vole osetiti one prelepe treptaje u vazduhu i sebi…

Od onih ružnih spolja, sa skrivenim unutrašnjim biserima…

Ja sam od onih što dodiruju horizont,
i onih što dišu pod vodom i zemljom…

Od onih kojima grom i oluja ne mogu ništa,
ali ih suza ubiti može…

Ja sam od onih što se ceo život igraju
jer znaju da bez igre ne postoji ništa…

Od onih što misle da je reč ljubav predugo u upotrebi,
i prazna… a nisu otkrili drugu reč…
Ja sam neuspeli lingvističar…

Ja sam od onih što izvesne stvari prećutkuju,
da ih ne bi pokrali… a ipak vole da ih kradu…

Od onih što su čvrsto nogama na zemlji,
i tako divno odlepljeni od njene tvrde kore,
negde… između sumraka i svitanja…

Od onih što čeznu za tvojim očima,
a uplaše se sebe kada se u njima vide…

Ja sam od onih, nisam od ovih, i nisam ovde,
jer ne volim crne krugove koji postaju sve crnji…

Ja sam od onih što jecaju uz trubače, i zvuke akustične gitare,
i groze se računarskih sažvakanih nota…

Od onih što vole čudnom jednostavnošću,
koja doseže do iznenadjujuće složenosti…

Od onih što vole slobodu duha, daha, pokreta, mira…

Od onih, što ljube bez obzira
da li su ljubljenoj osobi čudne sa svim svojim licima ljubavi…

Ja sam od onih veselih pajaca što glume darujući radost drugima,
ne želeći da se otkrije njihov jad…

Ja sam od onih bezbroj ALI…

Od onih što vole da ih neko oseća kao tajnu,
i koje drugi vole… zato što jesu večna tajna…

Od onih što će te udisati, kao date prvi i poslednji put udišu…

Od onih životinjica, što te prepoznaju po mirisu,
i znaju da kriješ zver u sebi,
ali… ja sam upijač svega plemenitog u tebi…

Ja sam od onih blesavih, što razmišljaju kome zaveštati perle,
cipele, kosu, usne, dah i obraz…

Kome zaveštati knjige, reči i boje…
Kome će zaveštati uzdahe i suze, kretnje, slutnje, bludnje…

I oči – da bi sve ovo isto opet sagledale,
možda lepše proživele…

Ja sam od onih što ponekad svoja bulažnjenja gluposti,
zapisuju kao najveće istine i vrednosti…

Od onih što daruju sitnice, verujući da su one vezice i kopče…
Ja sam propali hirurg…

Ja sam od onih što vole bez razloga, povoda i racionalnosti…

Od onih, što ih “boli uvo za sve”,
ali ipak traže potvrdu da su prošli kroz tu školu…

Od onih, što teške rane otćute,
a one najteže rečima ispiraju…

Ja sam ono dete izgubljeno na ulici, što vapi da ga uzmete…
Ali… ja sam i davljenik što se samo za svoju ruku hvata…

Ja sam od onih što prave tamne oluje,
i najveselije vatromete tonuci u razmišljanja…
Od onih, što im moraš puniti baterije…

Od onih, što ih ne moraš videti hiljadama godina,
a ipak će o tebi misliti kao o najbližem…
…i voleti te bez uslova…

Od onih, što su dovoljni sami sebi,
a ipak… uvek računaju na tebe kao na svoju ruku…

Ali… ja sam i ono dete izgubljeno na putu,
što vapi mnogo ljubavi…

Ja sam od onih što ljude dele na sve ili ništa,
i najsrećniji su, i najtužniji kad im se sve to podvoji…

Ja sam od onih uzdržanih i krutih – bez razloga…

Od onih, što im gradovi mirišu samo na jednu personu…

Od onih, što pokušavaju da determinišu vrstu,
rod i poreklo ljubavi…
Ja sam propali istraživač biolog…

Ja sam od onih što im usne, oči i suze klize na dole…

Od onih, prepunih Ahilovih peta…

Od onih podzemnih prolaza,
što se plaše da ih ne otkriješ i potopiš,
jer znaju da si istovremeno voda na izvoru, i ponornica…
…i uvek ploviš dalje…

Ja sam od onih darovitih što vide svo crnilo ovoga sveta,
a uzimajući najsvetlije od njega…

Od onih što vole svoju tajnu, sreću i bol,
oslikati, ispisati, izvajati…

Ja sam od onih srećno – nesrećnih usamljenika
zarobljenih svetom u sebi…

Ja sam od onih filtera što prima i pročišćava,
od onih što guše i kiseonik daju…

Ja sam ono dete izgupljeno na ulici što vapi da ga uzmete…
Ja sam od onih bezbroj ALI…
Ja sam davljenik što se samo za svoju ruku hvata…

Ja sam od onih, nisam od ovih,
i nisam ovde, i nisam sada,
jer ne volim crne krugove što postaju sve crnji…

AŞKIN DANSI

Birbirine dokunmadan yapılıyor bu
danslar.
Mesafeli, zarif, asil, şık, ahlaklı ve
görkemli.
Her dansın bir tanımı vardır şiir
dilinde.
Kiminde zaman durur, kiminde aşkın
edebi göğe yükselir.
Kim bilir, belki de yağmurlar onların
sucu.
Önce Wuig ile başlanır dansa, elin el
üstünde olması, aslında yüreğimin
üzerinde sen varsın demektir belki
de.
Sen hiç yüreğinin üzerine, birini
koydun mu?
Sonra şeşen çıkar şiirden. Dile gelir
gecenin sessizliğinde, der ki;
Yewo Pşınavo.
Saatler ilerler, gece yorgundur,
gecenin aşka ihtiyacı vardır. Şeşen
susar, Qafe'ye devreder nöbetini bir
nevi.
Yorgun düşmüştür, dinlenmesi
gerekir, ve Qafe, onun aşkı anlaması
içindir.
Aşkın göğe yükselmesidir Qafe,
edebin anlam kazandığı, aşıkların
dansıdır işte. Çerkeslerde aşk, Qafe ile
başlar.
Bunu diyen adamlar; aşka Qafe ile
başlayıp, sevdiğinin gözüne
baktığında, içi titreyen adamlar.
Genellikle, çaya da şiir yazar bunlar.
Gece durur, zaman susar, ateş
böcekleri aşka gelir.
Qafe başlar.
Her melodide aşka gelir herkes, önce
gözler uzaklara dalar, sonra
düşünceler, kuşlar gibi uçar gider.
Aşka düşersin, bir anlıkta olsa,
düşersin işte.
Gözlerin yere değer, kalbin göğe
yükselir.
Qafe'nin kuralı bu işte.
Kimse anlamaz seni canım,
gözlerin yere değdiğinde, göğe
yükselenin aşk olduğunu.
Apsuva oradan seslenir, benimde
zamanım var, benimde aşka ihtiyacım
var. Leperuj kıskanır aşkı, çıkmaz
şiirden. Çıkarsa, bir daha giremem
diye korkar. Çünkü, yürekten bir defa
çıkan, bir daha giremez, kural budur
çünkü, aşk, tek olmayı sever.
Şiir nasıl başladıysa, öylede biter.
Wuig alır tüm geceyi koynuna, derler
ki onun için.
İki gönül bir olunca, “Wuig” o zaman
oynanır.
Birbirine dokunmadan yapılıyor bu
danslar.
Mesafeli, zarif, asil, ahlaklı ve
görkemli.
Kafkas halkları dışında, başka hangi
milletin böyle dansları var ki?
Kısacası çok seviyorum bizi,
tanımasam da seviyorum sizi.

U jednoj ruci drzim cigaru i gledam je. Razmisljam. Zavisna sam od nje,i na neki nacin je volim. Ako uzmem upaljac i zapalim ,ona nestaje. I svaki put kad je privucem usnama da je ‘poljubim’ sve vise nestaje. I sto je vise 'ljubim’ ona vise nestaje.

Ne znam sta da radim.

Ona me podseca na tebe.

Ako krenem da je ljubim,nestace brzo,ali ako je samo gledam necu je ni osetiti.

Masterlist: Part One

Hello everyone! I think I may have found a solution to the masterlist situation. Support recently emailed me and said that they have a limit to how many links you can have on one page meaning that I’m going to have to split it up. If this doesn’t work, I’m going to be royaly upset.

-Admin Lana


Karasuno

Multiple

Headcanons

Ukai Kenshin:

Scenarios

Headcanons

Akiteru Tsukishima

Scenarios

Saeko Tanaka

Headcanons

Kiyoko Shimizu

Headcanons

Yachi Hitoka

Headcanons

Daichi Sawamura:

Scenarios

Headcanons

Sugawara Koushi:

Scenarios

Headcanons

Asahi Azumane:

Scenarios

Headcanons

Nishinoya Yu:

Scenarios

Headcanons

Tanaka Ryuunosuke:

Scenarios

Headcanons

Ennoshita Chiara:

Scenarios

Headcanons

Tsukishima Kei:

Scenarios

Headcanons

Yamaguchi Tadashi:

Scenarios

Headcanons

Kageyama Tobio:

Scenarios

Headcanons

Hinata Shouyo:

Scenarios

Headcanons

Jednom ćeš, to je sasvim izvesno biti nečija žena,

Imaćeš dva kredita, stan negde u centru grada, klince

Auto star pet godina kupljen od zajedničke štednje

Slike sa porodičnih letovanja i zimovanja

Pa i one sa kratkih, ali prijatnih vikenda

Iz Milana, Dubrovnika, Pariza ili Praga,

Jednom ćeš zaista biti skroz na skroz daleko

Dalje od ikada ičega  za mene

Baš za jedan okov uvek dalje

I ja tu ne mogu baš ništa

Sem da ti mahnem u prolazu kada se sretnemo

U jednom od onih dana kada ćeš sa  mužem i vašom prelepom decom

Šetati nekim od parkova u Beogradu

Ili ćemo se naprosto pozdraviti u restoranu

Preko rubova čaše i napola pojedenih, već ohlađenih bifteka

I neka sam proklet ako mi i tada ne zastane zalogaj u grlu

Neka sam proklet ako i tada, kroz tih deset godina naših života

Ti ne budeš onaj nemir koji se provlači kroz sva godišnja doba

Ono trzanje izlizanih žica violine u stomaku po kojima gudalo života lagano klizi

Najtanji zvuk koji dopire do uha i tera stopala da plešu neki sasvim čuidan ples

Što je paradoks, jer, kao što znaš, ja ne umem da plešem

Ali kad tebe vidim, kada mi se oči sudare sa tvojim osmehom

Postajem poput  Freda Astera

Jer, ti si uvek bila ta Džindžer Rodžers koja me vodi

I koja zna kuda se treba kretati da bi se nekuda stiglo

Samo te ja trezan suviše pasivno pratim

Puštam te godinama da ideš sve dalje i dalje

Znaš, Zemlji je potreban jedan dan da se okrene

A meni ni hiljadu godina života da se ka tebi pokrenem,

Zato i znam da će jednoga dana sve biti sušta suprotnost mojim željama,

Bićeš nečija žena i majka,

Uveče ćeš voziti klince na časove klavira ili na plivanje

Spremati večeru sa čašom vina u ruci

Govoriti mu da morate da pazite na vreme, jer klinci samo što nisu došli

Da te pusti, a nećeš želeti da te pusti

Uzimaćete se na podu kuhinje, na stolu, na prozoru

Na leđima ćeš imati urazene tragove njegovih šaka

Lokne tvoje kose će leteti kroz prostor i vreme kao najlepša zastava koju je svet ikada video

Dahom ćete pokrenuti košavu koju niko sem mene neće osetiti

Ona će i tada, za deset godina od danas naći put do moje košulje

I svom silinom krenuti da tuče po mojim rebrima mučki

Kao i uvek kada se setim koliko te nikada nisam imao i koliko te možda nikada neću imati,

Nemam ja velikih želja, to je oduvek opšte poznata stvar

Jedan stan na zadnjem spratu neke stare zgrade,

Fotelju presvučenu čojom, biblioteku pročitanih knjiga, zelenu lampu za čitanje, makar jednu sliku Mome Kapora,

Krem mantil, dvadeset šešira za sva godišnja doba

Jednu kutiju od dvreta višnje za duvan ili cigarete

Prihode dovoljne da se makar jednom u tri meseca ode do nekuda na dva dana,

Tebi i makar jedno od dva deteta koje će ličiti na tebe,

Eto, vidiš i sama da su to sve neke male i skromne želje

Ali kao i uvek problem je uvek do mene

Nikako ruka da mi mesto reči ka tebi krene,

Zato i kažem da ćeš jednom sasvim izvesno biti tuđa žena i majka

Pošto te ja tako divno i veličanstveno ne umem imati nigde drugde osim u rečima

U strofama, u pijanim ispovestima tamo negde pred zoru kada sam ispran i pročišćen,

A to je već puka umetnost, apstrakcija, totalno nebitna stvar za neke ikada moguće nas.

—  Svetozar Rajčetić

Bili su samo deca

Bilu su samo deca kada su se zaljubili. Mada dosta njih u srednjoj školi misle da su odrasli, zar ne? Njih dvoje, oni nisu mogli ni da slute.. Između njih se stvorila neraskidiva veza. A oko sebe su izgradili bajku. Bili su zagrljaj kada je to potrebno i dugi razgovori o daljinama. To se dešava u tim godinama, je l’ da? U tim godinama se zaljubiš. U tim godinama zavoliš. U tim godinama misliš da znaš kako i da je sve što činiš ispravno.. ali nije tako. U tim godinama previše sebe daješ. Pomešali su im se atomi. Disali su istim dahom. Srca su im kucala u duetu. Bili su samo njih dvoje, ništa drugo više nije bilo. Ili se ipak samo tako činilo, iza zidina njihove bajke. Od tih zidina nisu videli realnost. A ponekad moraš i to, znaš? Moraš da se suočiš sa realnošću i zapitaš se možeš li sa nekim biti i van te bajke. Izgleda da oni nisu mogli. Zidine su počele da pucaju i bilo im je ostalo malo, jako malo. Ali dovoljno da shvate da tako više nikada neće voleti. Tako nepromišljeno, tako nevino, tako nestvarno. Otišli su jedno od drugog znajući da nikada neće moći ponovo pronaći isti mir i iste ratove. To su bili samo njih dvoje. Previše mladi da bi znali kako.

Sada? Sada od njih nema ni žara. I jedno i drugo je izgorelo. Polako se pretvaraju u hladnoće severa. Daleko jedno od drugog, sa nekim drugim ljudima, pokušavaju da osete onaj momenat u kojem samo voliš. Momenat u kojem samo voliš i ne misliš. Ali to se više nikada neće dogoditi. Mogu se dogoditi još ljubavi, još ljudi, sigurno će njihova tela biti milovana drugim rukama. Mada samo tada, u tim godinama, tako nepromišljen, pun ljubavi, dopustiš da nečije ruke budu istetovirane na svom telu. I kada god se pogledaju u ogledalo videće kraj sebe duha. Taj duh nije samo osoba koju su voleli. Taj duh je njihova nevinost, nepromišljenost, bajkovitost i ljubav. Taj duh se ne vraća iz mrtvih, on čak ni ne progoni, samo je tu, kao zauvek trn. I kako kaže ona.. ,,Kad bi zauvjek zaspao ovaj grad, kao u bajci, prekriven trnjem i travama, sve dok se ti ne vratiš, a vratićeš se znam".. Samo jednim rukama savršeno pristaješ.

- Sanja Mitrović, instagram: @obecao_si

A sve što treba da uradimo, bez obzira koliko je vremena od gubitka prošlo, je da osetimo i pustimo. Svaku emociju koja nam dođe. Svaki trenutak životni. Da volimo i pustimo. Tu osobu. Kada u misli svrati. Lekcije koje nas gubitak uči. Kako osetiti, voleti i pustiti. Pa sve u krug. Tok neprestani.
—  Andrea Oršanić
‘prijatelji’

24. jun 2017. ,,Jesi li za ples?’’, upitao me. Svira neka balada i ja drhtim od same pomisli da ćemo biti u ‘stiskavcu’ koji on ismeva inače. Ne bi me čudilo da krene da igra neki svoj ludi ples u sred pesme. ,,Naravno’’, kažem i stavljam čašu fensi vina na sto. Pružam mu ruku, i on me vodi ka podijumu. Prepoznajem pesmu kada reči krenu, ,,Stvari lagane’’. Njegove ruke su na mojim bokovima, a moje na njegovim ramenima. I u tim trenucima, mi smo mnogo više. Mnogo više od ljudi, mnogo više od muškarca i žene, mnogo više od prijatelja, mnogo više od ljubavi. U tom momentu smo večni, gotovo da mogu da čujem kako nam srca kucaju u istom ritmu. Ne smeta meni to inače, to što smo prijatelji. Zvanično.. U ovakvim trenucima znam da smo mnogo više, mnogo više od svega što ljudi u ovoj prostoriji mogu da zamisle. Jer ljudi ne razumeju, oni to ne mogu. 
Kako oni da znaju da taj tvoj pogled nije prijateljski? Kako oni da osete koliko nežno dodiruješ moj obraz? Kako oni da čuju ljubav u tonu tvog glasa? Kako oni da vide prave dubine tvojih očiju? Kako oni da razumeju da ne moram da ga ljubim, da bih ga zaista ljubila?
Ja čujem i ono što on ne izgovori, jer kada ćutiš čuje te samo onaj ko te voli.
Ja njega dodirujem bez dodira, jer dodiri su nešto tako nadprirodno.
Ja njega ljubim i bez pritiska svojih usana na njegove, jer to je večno.
Zato smo mi prijatelji.
U očima tih ljudi.
Jer nismo kao oni.
I ne držimo se za ruke.
Ali držimo se srcima.
Zar to nije bitnije?
Taj poljubac u moje čelo je veća izjava ljubavi od svih pesama ikada.
Ljudi nikada neće razumeti.
Oni su previše isti.
Zato smo mi prijatelji.
Jer nismo kao oni.
I ne kažem kada ga predstavljam: ,,moj dečko’’.
Ali kažem ,,Todor’’.
Jer on je to meni.
Todor.
I to što je on meni je više od svih ,,momaka’’ na ovom svetu.
Jer ne moram da ga nazovem mojim da bih znala da to jeste.
Nastavljamo da se vrtimo na podijumu. Osećam kako zemlja stoji u mestu. To su ti neki naši trenuci, kada i zemlju zaustavi silina naše tihe ljubavi.
-Sanja Mitrović, @obecao_si

Stojim

Ležim u našem krevetu
Eto me na par milimetara od tebe
Ovde bi trebalo da se osete naši snovi
Ali samo tvoji snovi su glasni 

Čujem kako je sanjaš
U mraku vidim tvoje smejalice, čak i u snu samo ona može da ih izmami
Stavljaš svoju ruku preko mene
Te se pitam, znaš li da to nije njeno telo pored tebe?

Sedimo u našoj kuhinji
Dok radio tiho svira
,,I sad me po tebi poznaju’’ natera tvoje telo da se naježi
Ja vidim njen duh kako ti igra pred očima

Srećnih pesama nema
Nikada ih ne puštaju dok smo zajedno
Univerzum zna da mi ih ne bi posvetio
Te se pitam, znaš li da znam da sve posvećuješ njom?

Sedimo na našoj terasi
Sa svim našim prijateljima
Tu je po neki tvoj i njen
Njeno ime ponekad tiho sklizne sa usana

Ni tada ne izostane tvoj osmeh
Voliš da znaš da je tamo negde
Kao, pitaš ,,Je li društvo od pre i dalje na okupu?’’
Te se pitam, misliš li da ne znam da pitaš o njoj?

Sedim u frizerskom salonu
Objašnjavam kakvu boju kose želim
Onako tamno smeđu, samo još da bude nestašna kao njena
I ugledam devojku sa tom bojom

Čujem da nikada nije farbala kosu
Čujem da peva ,,Odlaziš’’ od Sergeja
Nadjačava radio
Čujem da je frizerka zafrkava o posveti te pesme
Čujem kako njeno srce tužno kuca
Čujem da i dalje voli
Baš kao što čujem da i ti i dalje voliš

Stojim između dva bića koja se vole
Koji me vrag tu postavio
Te se pitam, znaš li da sam svesna da me ne voliš?
Ostajem jer ja tebe volim
Jer te pustiti ne mogu
A tako dugo joj trčiš u zagrljaj
Ja ti stajem na put
-Sanja Mitrović, @obecao_si 

Izgašena svetla. Polako prelazi sa jastuka na moje grudi. Noge se prepliću. Tišina i dalje vlada. Nema poljubaca, niti uzdaha. Svet praktično ne postoji.
“Mislim da je hodanje praznim ulicama sa poklonom u ruci i tvojom slikom u glavi sve što treba opisati ljubav. Vreme koje te tera na raspoloženje. I osmeh koji raste svakim korakom ka tebi”, prekinulo je tišinu.
Nije mi dozvolila da joj dodirnem lice. Iako sam znao da je već u suzama. Zaronila je glavom u jastuk i nakon nekoliko sati tišine izgovorila:
-“Prošlo je toliko, a sada se ne usuđuješ da kažeš da me voliš?”
“Usuđujem se da ti pokažem. Bez reči. Ako ne osećaš ljubav kada je vidiš, kako misliš da ćeš je osetiti kada čuješ?”

Endryd Haar: The Riven Hound Chapter 2

 Thanks to  @sisterofsilence for her constructive criticism and loaning me Tribune Arlette Augusta Amon Rakaposhi Gorro, her amazing and badass female Custodes.  Did I mention she’s the Emperor’s Equerry?

“Let’s  go over this again traitor.  Your legion was exchanging gene-seed data with the World Eaters  and successfully produced Gene-Seed that combined traits from the World Eaters and Emperor’s Children Gene-seed that could theoretically could produce a stronger Astartes with a minimal chance of implant  rejection.  Correct?” Kal said softly.


 

“That’s correct.”  Titus said.


 

The Emperor’s Children’s face was a mass of precision knife cuts courtesy of Boian.  Haar had broken his nose again.


 

“Why’d you combine World Eaters Gene-seed with your own legion’s? Wouldn’t it taint your “Perfect” Gene-seed?” Boian asked.


 

“On the contrary, The World Eaters Gene-Seed was most suited for the augments we wanted to add and the  accelerated implantation in hosts. In addition it had the lowest rate of implant rejection after  the Sons of Horus and Iron Warriors, both which were rejected due to difficulties in  combining the samples. Chief Apothecary Bile decided  that the World Eaters gene seed was perfect for this  project.”


 

“What role does to that girl in that stasis coffin play in this little project of yours?” Haar  asked.


 

“She is someone my master has been looking for a very long time.  You see, before we found her, this project was all theoretical. To borrow a mortal phrase. A wet dream.  But you see Ruri and I found this girl when we were attacking a world.. She was  the daughter of all some imperial noble Daken killed and her genetic profile indicates she is a perfectly compatible  match to our hybrid  Gene-Seed.”


 

“You don’t mean to-


 

“ Oh yes, she would be our first test subject.  The Blade of Chemos was supposed to pick me up and take the girl and I to Master Bile’s workshop.  He was to supervise her implantation  personally. And considering the girl is young and healthy, with excellent  physical  traits…”


 

Haar put the pieces  together.


 

“I remember a time when your legion  would condone such acts.” Haar said


 

“My legion?”  Titus said incredulously  “It was Gahlan Surlak, Master of Induction for your legion  who proposed the project to Master Fabius.” Titus said.


 

Haar was silent.


 

“We’ll have some more questions for you later.” Haar said.


 

“I won’t be going anywhere.” Titus said.


 

Haar, Boian and Kal left the cell.


 

“I can’t believe the traitors really are that desperate.” Boian said.


 

“Of course they are.  With the loss of Bodt to Autek Mor and his Iron Hands and the  heavy casualties they regularly sustain, our former brothers will do anything  to keep the legion’s numbers up.  And Horus knows every Astartes he loses is one he won’t have at Terra. The bastard knows the scales are balancing out. “ Haar said.


 

The three  strode through the hallways of the the Tyrannis.  The Tyrannis’ hallways were empty.   When they weren’t in battle, the  mortal crew was sleeping like the dead.


 

With the exception of Ella who shot them a glare that could bore through Terminator Armor as the three Astartes walked into  the apothecarium.


 

“Remind me why I’m  here again and not in my nice warm bed?” she asked out loud.  The Flag Captain was clad in a plain white slip, wool slippers and an oversized fur shawl.  He hair was free of the braid it had been for hours and her blood red locks tumbled past her shoulders in a messy sprawl.


 

“ Because you are a woman, Flag-Captain.  The trauma this girl probably endured means she might have a rather violent reaction to four Astartes.”  Apothecary  Danek said as he checked the readouts on the old cogitator that was hooked up to  the stasis coffin.


 

Like Haar and Boian, Danek had been inducted long before the Twelfth Legion became War Hounds .   Danek  was dark of skin, and his face a mix of scars, stitches and burns.   What patches of hair he had leff was sloppily cut, almost like it had been done  with a combat knife.The good apothecary was missing his right ring finger and his left eye was a bionic.  His right eye was the the red rimmed one of someone who had spent a good portion of their career around rad weaponry.   His  body was all but broken, held together by artificially replaced organs, bionics and a desire for vengeance.  The right side of his throat was a partial augmetic due to phosphex burns . This also had  required the removal of his Betcher’s Gland.   The lower right side of his chest was all bionic organs and metal ribs. One of his three lungs and part of his Osetic kidney had been blown to bits.  One lung was partially collapsed and kept working  because of a device attached to his  chest plate that pumped oxygen directly to it.  His Multi Lung had been poisoned by  radiation and Death Guard chemical weapons. One of his Progenoid Glands had been destroyed as well.  His right shoulder had a Rotor Cannon round embedded in it. His body, his right leg in particular was  a mass of tumors from aggressive cancers.  Worse his Larraman’s organ  was slowly breaking down and not healing his body as quickly as it use too.   His Mark III Power armor was as broken as his body.  He had long disposed of the right gauntlet and he had replaced his right shoulder pad with a piece of Scout armor.  His left thigh-plate was held together by two crossed chains. His left Pauldron was carpeted with molecular bonding studs and there was plenty of  cracks that had been filled with solvent.  Deep gouges covered nearly every surface of the armor and much of the original black paint was now gunmetal grey.  Dried blood dotted the armor as well.


 

Erud said he would repair the armor one day, but he had never gotten around to it.


 

Danek limped over to the Cogitator, the right leg joint of his armor sparked a little bit.


 

“We’re readyEndryd.” Danek said.


 

“Do it.” Haar said.


 

Danek nodded and pressed a switch .  


 

Steam hissed and pistons fired.  The cover of the Stasis-Coffin retracted .


 

“Vitals are green so far. Brain activity is speeding up. Her core body temperature is rising .” Danek said.


 

The girl rose from the coffin like she was waking from a nightmare. Her eyes, a deep brown the color of freshly tilled soil or chocolate darted around the room .


 

‘“Where am I? Who are you?” she said.


 

“Calm yourself child.  We mean you no harm.” Danek said in a soothing tone.. This was rather difficulty, as a throat ravaged by cancers and partially augmetic didn’t lend itself to a comforting voices.


 

“Can you tell us your name?” Danek asked.


 

“It’s Vesta sir. Vesta..”


 

The girl put a hand to her head.


 

“Headaches?” Danek asked.


 

“Yes sir. I’m sorry, but I can’t remember  anything.  I don’t even  remember my last name. “


 

“That’s alright. I am sure your memories will return in time. I am Apothecary Danek.   The other Astartes you see are Praetor Endryd Haar, Chaplain Kal Jakar  and Sergeant  Boian Traven.  The woman is Flag Captain Ella Thylin.”


 

“I.  It’s  nice to meet you.  Forgive me for asking, but I don’t know what legion you’re from.”


 

“We left our legions behind us. We are Blackshields.  Space Marines who remained loyal to the Emperor and the Imperium while our brother became traitors. “ Haar  said softly.


 

“ Traitors.  I remember the Emperor’s  Children.  They and the World Eaters came to- “ Vesta put her hand on her head.


 

“ Don’t worry about trying to remember Vesta.  We’re going to our best to help you.  Can you step out of the coffin?” Haar asked with a gentleness in his voice that surprised  himself.


 

“ Yes. “ She rose and then paused.


 

“Apothecary  Danek, do- do you have some clothes for me?” she asked timidly. Vesta wrapped her arms across her developing chest.


 

It was in that moment that the three Astartes and Ella realised the girl was naked.


 

“ I knew I was forgetting something.” Danek said.




 

After Ella wordlessly handed Vesta her shawl.  Kal had gone down to the supply a room and returned. with a set of grey robes and some boots. The robes didn’t exactly fit, but they would do until they could get her measured for some  better clothing.


 

Danek had given her a physical, taken blood and tissue samples and pronounced her in good health. Albeit partially  amnesiac . He also explained why the traitors wanted her.


 

“ Your memory must have wiped before they put you in the Stasis casket. Probably in the misguided notion that it would reinforce your hypno-indoctrination.  Which it does not.   I can’t promise your entire  memory will return, but some should come back to you over time.”


 

Kal and Endryd had then taken her to the cafeteria and watched her scarf down a surprising amount of food.  It was quite amusing to see, as Vesta was trying  to be dainty and have good manners,while trying to get as much food in her mouth as possible.


 

After that they the taken her to the Tyrannis’ seamstress, Philone.  Philone had been a civilian, an old woman whose world and husband had been lost to the traitors.  She sewed and mended the garments and assisted in other duties aboard  the ship.  She was a fine  old lady full of wisdom and had a tongue as sharp as a Chainsword.


 

Philone took some measurements and soon had seven robes produced for Vesta.


 

Unlike Vesta’s ill-fitting and baggy grey robe, the robes Philone spun for her,were made of the same beige cloth meant for a Remembrancer’s robes and fit her perfectly.


 

“You’ll fit in just fine at Terra.”  Haar said.


 

“Terra!” Philone exclaimed.


 

“ We need to speak with Lady Arlette  Philone, the traitors want Vesta and we need to plan a course of action . “


 

“You’ll need a better outfit if you’re going to Terra girl!” Philone said. She held up a strip of purple cloth and scrutinized Vesta.


 

“The robes you made me are fine Lady Philone.” Vesta said shylly.


 

Philone glared at Vesta. It was a glare that even Haar found intimidating.


 

“Nonsense Vesta! You’re meeting with Lady Arlette herself! She’s aTribune of the Legio Custodes You need some much more regal looking than that! Besides I’ve been  wanting to make something nice for a long time.  Especially since the Flag-Captain won’t let me make anything nice for her.”


 

“You do know the Flag-Captain doesn’t appreciate your unsubtle attempt at finding her a date.” Kal Jakar said.


 

“Hmph, mark my words,  Ella will come down here asking me to weave her something nice for a date she has with some nice lad or lass, maybe even an Astartes.  Throne knows this ship is big enough to  them to find a place to have a date and -”


 

“We do have a twelve year old present.” Kal said.


 

‘It’s alright. I know what she’s talking about. Ms. Thyln is a nice lady, i’m surprised she hasn’t found someone yet.” Vesta said.


 

The three Astartes stared at the young maiden.


 

“I’m an amnesic twelve year old girl, not an idiot.” Vesta said.


 

Philone cackled.


 

It was  agreed upon by Haar and the Blackshields that Vesta  should have her own room in the Astartes  quarters.  There had been an unused room right across from Haar  that she could use.   This also was so in the unlikely event they were boarded Haar and the others could quickly  defend her. Plus if she needed medical  attention, Danek would  be close at hand. The cot was sized for an Astartes, and  Vesta declined an offer for  a  human sized one.  


 

Vesta  had a pillow, a brown wool blanket and a thick quilt that was a mosaic of colors.  She lay there for a while. Then  she had fallen asleep rather quickly.


 

Unfortunately her dream that night were anything but pleasant


 

.

“My lord the walls have been breached.  The traitors are now inside the capital,” Lord Marshall Marcus Quintus said.


 

Vesta’s father  Justinian Augustus, Imperial Governor of  Byzas Longa, sighed.


 

He asssesed the tactical hololiths., sighed again and looked at her and her brother.  


 

“Theodosius!  Look after my children.  Get them to  the starport. The time has come for me to meet Horus’ whelps blade to blade.”


 

Theodosius, Captain of the Praetorian Guard made the pre-unity salute.  He was a huge man.  A Gene-enhanced man  like the rest of her father’s bodyguard.  Some in the court whispered he had once been a Thunder Warrior.


 

The five members of the Praetorian Guard were clad in Void-Hardened Carapace Armor.  They carried Volkite Chargers and had power weapons sheathed at their side.


 

“Father “-her brother, Trajan began.


 

“You and your sister look after each other Trajan. And do not cause mischief for old Theodosius,”   he said, his tone light as he unsheathed his Paragon Blade


 

“You’re going to your death father.” Vesta said



 

“You have your mother’s bluntness Vesta.  Yes I am.  I will not cower in my palace while these traitors slaughter my people.  And someone must rally the remaining militia and Solar Auxilla to  buy time for the last of the civilians and yourself to escape.”


 

“But father.”


 

“Vesta you and your brother, are my legacy.  Children like yourself will be the future of this Imperium.  As long as you live the fires of the Imperium will  keep burning.  The heart  of mankind will not be snuffed out by Horus and his ilk.”


 

“I love you both.  I cannot tell you how proud I am to have such  wonderful and intelligent children.   I know you both will accomplish great things.  “


 

Vesta could tell Trajan was holding back tears.   


 

Justinian smiled and hugged them.  Than Theodosius led them the underground escape route in the palace..  


 

Vesta never saw her father again,



 

The traveled for about 10 minutes  underground, although it felt much  longer to Vesta.  They climbed up a ladder and emerged  just outside the starport.  The small warp-capable skiff lay a few meters away.


 

Vesta heard screams and the sound of Bolter  and lasfire in the distance.


 

She drew her Volkite Serpenta, it’s weight a comforting presence. Trajan drew his Power Sword.


 

“Greetings.” a rich cultured voice said.  The voice belonged to an Astartes.  An apothecary of the Emperor’s Children.  Standing next to him was another apothecary  clad in the blood  stained white and blue colors of the World Eaters.  Behind them was five Palatine Blades of the Emperor’s Children and ten  World Eaters Tactical Marines.


 

The Praetorian Guard leveled their Volkite  Chargers.   Trajan didn’t stand in front of Vesta, which was good. She didn’t want her overprotective  brother blocking her line of fire.


 

“ Allow to me introduce  myself.  I am Titus Phovian. You must be Justinian Augustus’ children.  You should be proud. He slew three of my Palatine Blades  and five World Eaters  before  Centurion Daken removed his head.”  the Apothecary said in an oddly polite tone.


 

The World Eaters  apothecary signaled to his men .


 

The ten World Eaters  charged, Chainaxes raised high.


 

Theodosius  and the Praetorian Guard  cut half of them town  with their Volkite Chargers  before they got into melee range.   Theodosius  killed one with his Power Axe before they hacked him into pieces. Two members of the  Guard took another with  them into death’s embrace .   That left three to  charge  the  two youths.


 

Vesta dropped one with a clean headshot.   The second one took two shots to the face before his twisted soul left his body.  


 

The third Eater of Worlds met his end at Trajan’s Power Sword. Trajan had rammed his sword deep into  his throat.


 

He withdrew it and shook the thick transhuman blood off the sizzling power field.


 

“That was unexpected. “  The World Eaters Apothecary said gruffly.


 

One of the Palatine  Blades  stepped forward and Vesta shot him in the chest.  He fell to ground with a thud.


 

“Who’s next!” Vesta shouted.  She sounded  a lot braver than she felt.


 

The World Eater  Apothecary charged  them. He was a blur as he raised his Chainaxe.  Trajan  lunged forward, his Power Sword held in both hands.


 

The Apothecary’s blow sent Trajan’s Power Sword skidding out of his hands.  He struck  Trajan  with the back of his chainaxe. The blow sent him flying into the  ground .   He did not rise again.


 

Vesta leveled the Volkite Serpenta at the apothecary, before a hand wrapped around the back of her throat and lifted her up.  The Volkite Serpenta  slipped out of her hands.


 

She grunted in pain as she felt a needle dig into her neck.  She heard the  device on Titus’ gauntlet chime .


 

“ Ruri my friend, today must be our lucky day.”


 

“What are you talking about?” Vesta said.


 

“You. Don’t worry my dear,   Ruri and I going to take good care of you. “


 

Before Vesta could question him further, Titus extended his Narthecium. She felt something sting her neck.  Then everything went black.



 

Vesta woke up screaming.  It all had come back to her.  The death of her world Her time in that monster Titus’ hands.  Watching her brother be turned into a mindless killing machine.   The needles and tubes as Titus poked and prodded at her. His cruel whispers and how his hand would stroke her hair  .


 

She sobbed.  Part of her wanted to hold her tears back, but she couldn’t. She cried and cried and cried.


 

When she ran out of tears to shed she rose and wrapped the brown wool blanket around herself and stood up.  She walked out of her room and found herself standing outside Haar’s door. Without  thinking, she knocked on the door.


 

Haar answered. Unlike Vesta, who wore a blue nightgown and had wrapped herself in her blanket, Haar was naked but for a loincloth.


 

Vesta couldn’t  help but stare.


 

Haar’s physique was amazing, even by Astartes standards.  Regular combat,  rounds in the fighting pits and long  gymnasia sessions  during interstellar voyages had has left him with a body any mortal  and more than some Astartes would kill for.


 

Vesta blushed. Haar just stared.


 

“ Can I sleep  with you tonight?  I… I don’t want to be alone.“ She asked.


 

“Danek said this might happen. I’m assuming you had a nightmare?” Haar asked.


 

Vesta nodded.


 

“Did you memories return?“ he asked.


 

“Yes.” Vesta said. She looked so frail. The blanket she wrapped herself in dwarfed her.


 

“Do you want me to wake Danek?  am sure he has sleeping medication.” Haar asked.


 

“No! No sedatives. I don’t need them. “  Vesta said with a fierceness that surprised him.


 

Haar felt something like pity but he squashed the feeling.  To pity this girl after all she endured would be disrespectful.


 

Without a word he let Vesta in his quarters.


 

Haar’s quarters were plain. There was a cot, foot locker, and rack for Haar’s wargear.  The World Eaters  were never big on ornamentation and any trappings from Haar’s former legion had been removed.  The large desk and chair that had been sized for an Astartes had not been  used for some time.


 

Haar made room for Vesta on his cot. She snuggled close to him and in seconds she was asleep.


 

The voyage to Terra was three weeks.  Vesta spent much of her time helping crew members with various tasks aboard the  ship.   Her free time was filled with medical check ups at Daken’s hands, being fitted for various clothes with Philone and reading.  The Tyrannis had a rather nice library and Vesta enjoyed the solitude it offered.  Kal Jakar and Boian often joined her. Kal asked if she wanted to go to the Mass he held aboard the ship, Vesta went a few times out of politeness, but the Lectitio Divinitatus  didn’t really appeal to her. (She did remember her father turning a blind eye to it on Byzas Longa.)  


 

Boian often made jokes. Sometimes  really dirty ones that made her laugh so hard she cried.  


 

And then there was the fighting pits.


 

While the Blackshields utterly rejected their previous legions and traditions, including the spoken and written languages they once used, old habits died hard.  Many of the Fangs of the Emperor. Were former World Eaters, and sparring was a good way to  vent anger and grief.  In addition it,  settled conflicts and rivalry and was good for morale.   The mortal crew loved to bet on the fights.  



 

The arena was a section of the vehicle storage bay that had been unused for quite sometime.  Empty ammo crates  formed a ring.   Chairs and other empty crates acted as seating for the spectators. . A few jars of olive oil that had been borrowed from the kitchen had been laid out for those who wished to anoint themselves before a match.


 

Kal Jakar was refereeing.  Karanthus stood beside him  ready to  intervene if a match became to the death rather than to third blood.


 

Vesta  liked watching the matches.  It was interesting seeing an astartes fight. The spectacle, the brotherhood. The jokes and curses, all were entertianing and so interesting. .


 

Vesta’s seat, nicknamed the “Kathisma” or royal box, by the Blackshields was two ammo crates stacked atop each other with a blanket laid atop it.  It gave her an excellent view of the matches.


 

Right now it was Boian and a Blackshield named Gorrivan, were sparring. Gorrivan held a chainsword in one hand, a chainaxe in the other. Boian held a Power axe.  Both warriors wore loincloths and their.  Gorrivan  had already taken two blows.  Boian was untouched.


 

Gorrivan made an overhead swipe with his chainaxe  while simultaneously stabbing  with his chainsword.  Boain sidestepped him and raked his power axe across his back.


 

“Third blood.”  Kal Jakar said.


 

Gorrivan growled  but the two shook hands.


 

“Next time Boian.” He growled.


 

“Of course.” Boian said with a smile.


 

“Who’s next?” Boian called.


 

As Vesta observed the next  match. As she saw these transhumans, these living weapons cheer laugh, and curse.  She wondered, what had made them a family?   These men were all from different legion’s, different cultures.  Was it because they  were outcasts? Was it because they had stayed loyal and true when others went astray? Was it all of it or none of it?  


 

Vesta could have asked, but she was content to wait.  Something told her that she would get wildly different answers. It would be better to observe and interact with these men, these pariahs and she’d find the answer herself..  After all, with her world and family dead, she was like them now, an orphan of war and betrayal.




 

Terra.


 

Humanity’s cradle.  Humanity’s mother.   Without her the human race would not exist. Without her, the Legiones Astartes would not exist.     



 

Terra was the most important world in the Imperium of Man.  No other world rivaled it in its splendor or glory.


 

Being the impending target of Horus’ invasion Terra was now a fortress world.   The vast fleet of the VII legion, the Imperial Fists, circled it like wolves.  Thousands of vessels  of various classes, from  corvettes and frigates to the Five Gloriana class battleships that surrounded the Phalanx, the massive vessel that the Imperial Fists called home.  A circle of orbital defense stations and star forts ringed the planet.


 

A single Storm Eagle gunship descended.  It bore no markings apart from the scars of war and the old bloodstains on its hull.  It was black as night itself.


 

“Our clearance code has been accepted.” Fabius said.


 

Haar surveyed the people he brought with  him.   


 

Blackshields didn’t have formal Command Squads and these were a rather rough honor guard. They sure as Hell wouldn’t pass a parade ground inspection.


 

Harr had has brought Danek, Boian and Kal Jakar.  Vesta had come as well. She looked more like the noble she was rather than the scared waif they had awoken from a stasis coffin.


 

Vesta wore a white Stola with Grecian style sandals. In addition, she wore a purple Palla with a freshly polished Aquila clasp. Haar noted it was an older one that clutched  lightning bolts in its talons. Her hair was unbound  and her brown hair fell nearly to her waist. She wore no jewelry  and had no makeup, but she was beautiful. Perhaps more beautiful the so called “nobles” of the Imperial Court.


 

“Nervous?” Boian asked.


 

If Vesta was nervous she hid it well.  She didn’t fiddle with her clasp or fidget. She looked straight ahead.


 

“A little. I mean this is Terra. And we’re going to the Imperial Palace ”  Vesta said.


 

“Trust me it get’s boring after a few visits.” Boian said.


 

Kal Jakar looked like he was going to launch into his  “This is Holy Terra, the birthplace of our species” rant, but he remained silent .


 

Haar looked outside the viewport and scowled.


 

“Aella is late.” Haar said.


 

“She is a little girl.” Kal Jakar said.


 

“The ligo aetes are never late.” Haar sat.


 

“There’s always a first time for everything Endryd.” Boian said.


 

“Little eagles?” Vesta asked.


 

“Custodes in training. They’re mostly young children, but there are a few around your age or older.” Haar supplied.


 

“I’m surprised you know Grecian.” Danek said with a cough.


 

“Byzas Longa, my homeworld spoke a dialect of Grecian before the coming of the Emperor, It was still used in court along with High Gothic.  My father would switch to it in the middle of a conversation to  help me and my brother learn it.”  Vesta said in perfect Grecian.


 

“Well i’ll be damned.” Boian said with a smile.  Boian  smiled a lot. It gave him an opportunity to show off his Iron teeth.


 

“Your soul already is.” Kal Jakarsaid in a voice as dry as the desert he was born in.


 

The two laughed as the ramp opened and they stepped out of the Storm Eagle.  


 

They paused when they came face to face with a Legio Custodes.  He stood between them and the entrance to the Inner Palace.  The Custodian’s body language indicated great displeasure, though in Haar’s opinion, most Custodian’s body language indicated great displeasure.


 

“Halt.” The Custodian said.


 

Haar paused.  He recognized that voice.  


 

Prefect Diocletian.


 

“We are agents of the Imperium and we come being news for Lady Arlette.” Haar said.


 

“Your kind are not welcome here Blackshield. Neither is the girl you bring.” Diocletian said.


 

“Why do you deny us passage?  We are both warriors of the God-Emperor and we bear the blessing of your Tribune.” Kal Jakar said.


 

“Silence Word Bearer.   The Emperor has forbidden the referral to him as a God.  Speak that word again and I will remove your head from your body.” Diocletian  said.


 

In hindsight. Kal Jakar shouldn’t have mentioned the God-Emperor, but Diocletian would have stopped them and made the threat. anyway.  The Prefect was quite frankly, a dick. Haar knew he did not trust them, and he had probably delayed Aella with some meaningless task like retrieving headlight fluid for the Grav-Rhinos. Haar honestly no idea why Diocletian  had delayed them or why he disliked them.  You think the Emperor’s own Equerry vouching for them would give them some slack. Haar was pretty sure Malcador’s band of misfits didn’t have to deal with this.  


 

Haar decided he had enough.  As much as he wanted to rip out the Custodians spine, he’d settle this with words.


 

“Praetor.”  Haar said with all the cold rage and authority he could muster.


 

“I’m sorry?” Diocletian said.


 

“My rank is Praetor, Prefect..  You may also address me as Reaver Lord if you prefer. We report directly to Lady Arlette and the Emperor himself. While you are well within your authority to stops us. I believe your reasons for stopping us are personal and not for security reasons. My brothers and I have stayed loyal while  our legions turned traitor. We are willing to sacrifice  our lives for this Imperium. Not for honor or glory, but for duty and vengeance.  This girl you so casually dismissed,has suffered more than any girl her age should have. She has lost her family and her world. The IIIrd legion plans to do unspeakable thing to her. Our own brothers and our primarch’s betrayed us, soaked their blades in our blood. And you dare question our loyalty! You dare to question our honor and commitment to this Imperium! To our Emperor!”


 

Diocletion  was about to reply, but Haar cut him off.


 

“Now I want you to stand there Prefect Diocletion, in that golden armor of yours and extend some fracking courtesy to myself, my brothers and this girl.” Haar said.


 

Haar had a feeling he wanted to draw his Misericordia and strike him down.  


 

Than the sound of scampering feet was heard.


 

“I’m so sorry!” an eight year old voice said.


 

A blur of red and gold dashed pass Diocletian.  


 

“It is alright Lady Aella.” Kal Jakar said. The Chaplain made the sign of the Aquila.


 

Aella was a young girl, a few weeks shy of her ninth birthday. She wore the red with gold trim robes of the Legio Custodes  Her hair was a black and silky,and she wore it in a braid with a silver and jade hairpin.


 

“Lady Arlette sends her compliments Praetor Haar. I’m here to take you to the Tranquil Courts.” Aella said in an imitation of a rather regal and important sounding tone.


 

Aella looked at Vesta.


 

“Hi! I’m Aella! What’s your name?”  Aella said this with all the enthusiasm  an eight year old girl possessed.


 

“Vesta.” Vesta replied.


 

“You’re very pretty. I like your Palla.” Aella said.


 

She turned to lead them to inside.


 

“Aella,could you wait a moment.  Prefect  Diocletian needs to tell me something.” Haar said.


 

“Sure!” Aella  said cheerfully.


 

Haar looked at Diocletian.


 

Haar could tell Diocletian was gritting her teeth beneath his helm.


 

“I apologize for my rudeness Praetor.”


 

“Not  just me.” Haar said. He gestured to Kal Jakar.


 

“I apologize for my unkind  words, Chaplain. I hope I have not offended you.”


 

“Think nothing of it. The Emperor’s blessing be upon you Prefrect.” Kal Jakar said. He made the sign of the Aquila. For politeness sake, Diocletian returned it.


 

Diocletian turned to Vesta.


 

“You don’t have to apologize to me, My Lord. It’s a honor to be here.” Vesta said.


 

“You’re too kind for your own good, girl.” Danek said with a laugh.


 

“We’re ready to proceed Aella.” Haar said.


 

Aella smiled, waved goodbye to Diocletian  and led them into the Imperial Palace.



 

The Tranquil Courts was perhaps the only part of the Imperial Palace not fortified. An eye of peace and beauty in a storm of iron and stone.


 

Tribune Arlette Augusta Amon Rakaposhi Gorro was waiting for them in a spacious patio.


 

Arlette was a rather striking woman with  brown skin and black hair that stopped at her shoulders. She wore red robes with fur and gold trim. She held an old graphite pencil in her hand.


 

The square table she sat at was carpeted with paperwork.


 

The table style was one he did not recognize.  Although, Haar did not an Emperor’s Chilrdren or Thousand Sons, skill in recognizing furniture.   It was strangely low, and her seat was directly on the ground


 

She looked up from the parchment she was scribbling on. Writing implements of various types lay in easy reach. Everything from pencils and various types of pens to monoquills.


 

Arlette smiled at Aella  as she bowed.


 

“Hello Aella, did Diocletian delay you?”


 

“Yes my lady, Prefect Diocletian was grumpier  than usual.”  Aella said with a pout that was more adorable than annoyed.


 

“It’s probably because we’re  here,we’re not exactly good little boys compared to Dorn’s little builders.” Boian said.


 

Aella giggled and Arlette smiled.


 

Haar gestured to Vesta.


 

“Lady Arlette, this is Vesta Augustus, the heir to the Imperial governorship of Byzas Longa.”


 

“She’s a friend of ours.” Boian said.

It’s an honor, my lady.” Vesta said with a bow.

“The honor is mine, the Emperor and I enjoyed our time on Byzas Longa.” Arlette said.

Haar watched the two women make eye contact.

This was not merely the meeting of two women, this was the meeting of two queens.

One who was young and recently crowned, ready to take her throne and do her duty.  The other, older and more comfortable in her role. One who had done all her king and subjects asked for and more.    

“Aella could you bring my guests and I some tea?” Arlette asked.

“Yes ma'am. What kind of tea do you want?” She asked.

“My usual.” Arlette said.

“Black.” Haar said.

“Lemon, one cream, milk and two sugars.” Danek said

“Black with three sugars.” Boian said.

“Green tea.”  Kal Jakar  said.

“Black, one sugar.” Vesta said.

Aella scampered off.

Arlette gestured for them to sit.

Haar sat directly across from Arlette.  Kal Jakar sat to his right, Boian on his left. Vesta sat next to Boian, while Danek sat next to Kal Jakar.

Aella returned with a platter laden with  mugs of tea.


 

Haar caught the whiff of cinnamon as Aella distribute the tea.

Haar sipped his tea.  After months of recycled water, the tea was a rare treat. He could tell his brothers and Vesta enjoyed the tea immensely.

The woman who saved his life enjoyed her tea immensely as well.


 

Some compared Arlette  to the Roman goddesses Bellona, or the Grecian goddess Pallas Athena, but no such comparison could be made in person.


 

She was beautiful in her own unique way.  She radiated an overwhelming power and grace that rivaled, even surpassed, a Primarch.   No one could stand before her without to urge to kneel and prostrate themselves. No one could draw a blade or Bolter to harm her without dying.  Either at her hands, or the Emperor’s himself.


 

She was, in many many ways, the ideal woman.


 

Haar knew that if it wasn’t for Arlette’s backing of the Fangs of the Emperor, they wouldn’t have been able  to inflict  so much damage on the traitors. The Tyrannis wouldn’t have been able to be refitted and resupplied. The Sigillite would not have shared his Intel. The Fangs now had an opportunity to die a glorious  death that would be remembered by loyal and traitor alike.


 

“I trust your mission was successful?”  Arlette said.


 

“The Word Eater’s 126th Company has been informally disbanded and a  plot that could tip the balance in the traitor’s favor has been discovered. “


 

“And what does this plot entail exactly?” Arlette asked with a sip of her tea.


 

“Unsanctioned Legions Astartes implantation and indoctrination methods, tampering  with blessed gene-seed and the utter damnation of the souls.” Kal Jakar  said.


 

“What Chaplain Jakar means is that the  Emperor’s Children have created enhanced  hybrid gene-seed designed to maximize the positive traits of both World  Eaters and the Emperor’s Children with a high compatibility rate and a minimum  chance of implant rejection.  They are also enhanced via genetic data and sample recovered from Blackshield Astartes referred to as Chymarie.  Lady Vesta here was to be first test subject.  We recovered one of the apothecaries responsible  and we’d like to transfer him to the Silent Sisterhood. for interrogation.”


 

“We’d also like to arrange for protection  and sanctuary for Vesta.  We also need some more supplies and a couple of fresh crewmen. “  Haar said.


 

“ The first request I can grant.  The second I must deny. The Ten-Thousand must remain at the palace. Like the Sigillite and the Knights-Errant, we are fighting our own Silent War and the casualties have not been light.  I cannot spare the Custodes. The Emperor’s safety cannot be jeopardized   While there are those in the Imperial Court who could provide sanctuary, Alpharius and his sons are here on Terra, until Rogal deals with them, her safety cannot be guaranteed.  A moving target is harder to hit, so Vesta will stay with you.  As for supplies, the Hall of Weapons is open to you.  Perhaps while you restock, you could find some weapons for Vesta here as well.  In addition, if your looking for crewmen, many refugees have gathered in the Petitioner’s City, seeking to join the Imperial Army and Navy. I’m sure you will find willing recruits.” Arlette  said.

“Thank you My Lady,”   Haar said

“You’re welcome Endryd.” she said with a smile.

Haar rose and brought his fist to his chest in the pre-unity  salute.

Arlette returned it.




 

The Hall of Weapons was like a toy store for an Astartes.  While the Fangs could not access the sections reserved for the Custodes and the Silent Sisterhood, there was still plenty for them  and their young companion.

Weapons were kept on racks or held in shining stasis-fields. Crates of ammunition were stacked under the racks.

“I could spend decades in this place.” Boian said with a childish grin.  He had taken a Phobos-pattern Bolter and about nine clips from one of the racks.

“I don’t doubt that.’ Kal Jahkar said.

Haar hadn’t touched anything, but he had watched Vesta as she browsed the racks.

Vesta had immediately grabbed a Volkite Serpenta, but she had  stopped at a collection of swords.  She hefted a chainsword and placed it back.  She ignored the large two-handed weapons.  She paused at the knives and grabbed a Power Knife sized for a mortal and a Chainknife.   She also grabbed a Digi-melta and slid it on her left ring finger.

She was smiling the whole time she had done this.  

This was the first time any of them had seen  Vesta smile.    

She looked around some more and went to a small collection of blades and pistols in stasis fields.

She paused in front of a gladius in  a stasis field.

“Blade.. Of the Hearth?” Vesta said reading the High Gothic inscription on  the blade.

“Looks like an Albian Power Gladius,  Shadrak Meduson has one of those. Some officers in the Fourteenth used to carry those.” Boian said.

“A few in the Seventeenth did as well.” Kal Jakar said.

Vesta  pressed the key to  disengage the stasis field and gently grasped the blade.

It came free from it’s stand with a soft shunk noise.

Vesta gave it a few swings and made a stabbing motion with the blade.  

It was in that moment that Harr saw Vesta in a different light.

He now longer saw her as an amnesiac waif or a young noblewoman.

Now she was a warrior-queen.

Now she was ready to take her vengeance on the traitors who stolen everything from her.


And Haar and his Blackshields would gladly fight by her side.