Claymore Fanfiction Discussion

[Shiek927]

Originally Posted by revan5

Ahem Shiek, somebody forgot to mention a certain Dark Lord having the only fanfic on ff.net that has Renee as a major supporting character. Go ahead and check. Yep, it's the only one! Nice to have two authors breaking totally new ground for your sake. Expect ff.net version of "Claymore: New Era" chapter 6 to be up sometime this weekend btw. It'll be worth the wait, I assure you.

Your fic doesn't count Revan . Is Renee the main character of your story? Is it a centric fic where nearly the entire story is centered around her, her character and development?

You can't have an epic starring many characters and call it the same thing; regardless you do a nice job with development in your story

[Shiek927]

Tagging onto my previous post; while I wouldn't say some warriors don't feel the same about their potential uselessness (Clarice HAS experienced the downside of being "unique" and knows what she is barely capable of; claymore Priscilla is just as emotionally vulnerable though she doesn't lack in strength, though does lack in experience etc etc), Yuma easily rises to the top of that pile by being the one we see the most, first-hand, feel utterly worthless. Having someone like Raki in her life, one can only wonder at the implications; Yuma definitely doesn't lack in strength, as we have seen lately: she hasn't had the experience, and self-confidence to really push herself as far as she can go (similar, again, to Clarice and Claymore Priscilla; their are no doubt more I can't think of off the top of my head, who are emotionally vulnerable and insecure), because of reasons we just don't know.

It's a wonder; Dany said it quite nicely in his Unexpected story: for all the power warriors generally have over human beings, it's no wonder why they commonly come off as cold, aggressive and arrogant; here though, we have a warrior who is anything but, even after the harsh training, the acceptance of her new life as a warrior....even after everything that has happened....what could have happened to this girl to make her this vulnerable? to be this meek? And what would happen if she really did have someone like Raki in her life? What if she were actually more powerful then anyone gave her credit for? or then we even suspected?

Give it a shot Blue; surprise us

[Blue Pentacle]

Hi again,


Thank you so very much. I do sincerely appreciate all the creative and considered input so far. Shiek927 and Weird D, thank you for your ideas and views as they do help.


But, to those interested, Revan would be a good choice for fan fiction; they have the energy, talent and vision to realise some very interesting stories .


In regards to Yuma, I am thankful for the interest and hope that my idea is both compelling and invites reflection. Yuma has always been a character who intrigued me, as she will hopefully play a real part in future events (as some fancied she would quite a while back) for the manga.


I have been thinking pairing Yuma and Raki for a while (as with the break with "Strange Consorts" for a while") and think that they might work well together. I would think to invest in a work and see how things go from there, as they are .


To those who have considered my idea, thank you kindly again; it is most appreciated.


Blue Pentacle.

[irvinethearcher]

Originally Posted by Shiek927

Yuma definitely doesn't lack in strength, as we have seen lately: she hasn't had the experience, and self-confidence to really push herself as far as she can go

I see it in a different way. When she was pushed she outdid herself.
Yuma said herself that she was, compared to the other ghosts, still the weak yuma. That IMO hasn't changed. She is probably still a inferior to cynthia in yoki alignment and so on.
Self-confidence can not make up for huge gaps in base skills.

[Shiek927]

Originally Posted by irvinethearcher

I see it in a different way. When she was pushed she outdid herself.
Yuma said herself that she was, compared to the other ghosts, still the weak yuma. That IMO hasn't changed. She is probably still a inferior to cynthia in yoki alignment and so on.
Self-confidence can not make up for huge gaps in base skills.

Well.....I don't know

Yuma said she was still weak, but what if she meant it in the sense that she was just stating a fact, not because she was just putting herself down?

You're right in that merely having self-confidence doesn't raise your skills, but it does help you push it farther then you ever thought without it, not to mention helps you properly use what was always there. Yuma is indeed probably one of the weaker warriors in comparison to the rest of the Ghosts, but when you consider just how much she was able to increase, the fact she was able to catch up, she's definitely a whole lot stronger then most probably ever thought the meek warrior ever was.

She's full of surprises that one .

[irvinethearcher]

If we think about it logically and objective she did even better in synchronising than cynthia because she healed her when she was already falling apart and after that she healed deneve's arm too.
Despite those facts i can not believe that yuma was only weaker than the others because of the lack of self confidence. Yagi doesn't do that normally.

[lightsenshi]

I've attempted to start a storyline based on OCs from the first generation of Claymores. Not sure how much luck I'm having.

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6431450/...ore_Beginnings

[Bikerider]

meahwhile as the ghosts head off to the org to rescue Miria

Clarice: We should go with them. They may need our help.

Galatea: Maybe you should think about what you just said.

Clarice: eh ?

Galatea. What kind of help can you give them ?

Miata: mama, not safe, smelly, stinky place.

Clarice: eh ?

Galatea: Yeah. It's a smelly stinky place. Best stay here where it's not as stinky or smelly.

[Bikerider]

meanwhile as the ghosts head off to the org to rescue Miria, part 2

Galatea: By the way Clarice, Miata, keep it down when your doing your "thing." We can hear you with our superior hearing and we can see your yoki through walls.

Clarice: EH !!!

Miata bashfully smirks.

[Bikerider]

meanwhile as the ghosts head off to the org to rescue Miria, part 2 (oops !! I mean part 3)

Yuma: Deitrich is not able to keep up with us.

Helen: nyeh... she knows where we're going

Deneve: Besides, I can't stand her constant bawling.

Yuma: Is that why you keep telling Tabitha to hang back ?

[lightsenshi]

(Wouldn't that be part 3? )

Beginnings: A fic revolving around two first generation Claymores.

Spoiler for Beginnings, part 1:

Part 1

A soft rustling of leaves as they chased each other across the dirt, urged on by the gentle blowing of a wind that carried a hint of cold to it. A cold that warned of winter's soon arrival and nature's stillness that was soon to be drawn forth. The leaves skirted a nearby tree, it's branches still dotted here and there with a late harvest of apples as red as the early morning dawn.

A soft metallic clanking of echoed footfalls shifted into the still morning, and the leaves seemed almost to pause before gliding both right and left out of the way of the dull gleaming limbs. Their owners paused, seeming as if by some instinct or habit to face slightly away from each other. One stood a step before the other, or perhaps the other waited a step behind the first.

The winter wind danced around the pair, lifting the half cape that each wore just enough to make it billow ever so slightly. A creak of leather could be heard as one of the pair shifted weight from one leg to the other but no other sound seemed to resonate from them. The stillness lasted for several heartbeats before the first of the pair, the one that stood forward of the other, reached upward and with efficient movements plucked a brace of nearly over ripened apples from the branches of the tree that the pair stood under.

The two wore similar yet not quite identical seeming clothing, perhaps a uniform or simply a choice made by the pair to dress alike. Dressed in stark white leather from head to knee, for from the knee down was protected by a boot made of what appeared to be polished steel. But not the stark whiteness of their clothing nor the metallic tinge of their foot covers were what drew one's eyes. First to draw a passer by's attention was the sword that each carried sheathed at the shoulder, the blade nearly as long as the owner who carried it. Only the hilt could be easily seen, as it was wrapped in some sort of soft blue colored fiber.

The whisper softness of leather could again be heard as the first shifted a gloved hand toward the second, releasing the red orb in the direction of the second. The gloved hand of the second, snatched the spheroid from the air with ease, lifting it to lips nearly as red as the fruit that was drawn to it. A soft crunch as a single bite was exorcised from the morsel and care was taken to ingest, as if to savor the tasty morsel.

The second was clearly a woman, with hair as silver as the light which reflected off of a lake which lay half a day journey behind them. The wind stirred the silver locks ever so slightly, lifting then returning them to rest between her shoulder blades. It went no further below, and eyes as silver as the hair which crowned her head seemed to miss nothing, scanning every leaf and speck of grass before them. A darkened piece of cloth seemed to be fastened at the neck and seemed to serve as ornamentation, curved so that it was barely large enough to display the strange image it bore upon it. It was of two lines running up and down next to each other and set slightly apart with a third line passing through the center of both yet drawn out on each side as well.

Her companion, with equally silver eyes but yet with hair cut so short that it barely passed the ears in length, passed the second apple from right hand to left then lifted the fruit to partake a bite of it. Her companion was a male, dressed in the same manner as her, but yet with the sword sheathed upon his left shoulder rather than his right. The darkened cloth about his neck bore a symbol of a backwards letter “C” with a second “C” joined at the middle, creating a simple yet elegant image.

They were an odd seeming pair, waiting in this most unusual of places. But the world had a name for them, a name that was not their own: Claymore.

The woman turned toward her companion as he spoke to her, his melodious voice breaking into the harmony of the early morning placidity. She was a beauty in both form and face, with full red lips and eyelashes just long enough to be appealing. Her companion was of comparable quality, possessing a grace and strength that belied the not quite and no longer humanity.

“It's not like him to be late.” His voice was of a soft baritone, soothing and whisper quiet.

“He would not be late without a good reason.” She seemed to be reminding her companion of something known only between the two of them.

The first gave a barely perceptible nod, taking another bite from the apple that he still held in his left hand. Both seemed content to let the silence be broken only by the soft crunching sounds as they consumed their breakfast.

It was the male who seemed to finish first, stopping when the apple was barely more than half eaten. He weighed the sphere he held for several seconds before tossing it up and slightly outward from himself. His left hand flashed to the hilt of the sword he wore, his movements clearly divining the no longer human nature he possessed. The sword flashed into motion, only the glimmer of light catching off of the huge blade as he neatly dissected the half eaten fruit into over a dozen fragments in less time that it took for one to blink. Before the sections could land on the bare ground at his feet, the sword had already been returned to the place it had been drawn from with a soft hiss and a subtle clinking sound as it settled into place.

The woman tossed her own half eaten apple off to the side, where a rabbit hopped from the undergrowth long enough to sniff at it before disappearing into whatever concealment it had appeared from. She appeared to barely take notice of her companion's action, as if such a test was normal for him.

Without a sound, a dark robed figure seemed to step out from the same underbrush that the rabbit had disappeared into. Dressed entirely in black and with a scarf wrapped around his mouth to block out the early morning cold. A deep cowl masked the rest of the head, leaving only a set of dark goggles covering the eyes. A shuffle of footsteps and the figure stepped around the same tree that the two had been waiting under to stand before them.

The figure pushed back the hood of the black robes that concealed the body and removed the scarf from his face, revealing sharply male features beneath. He tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe as if the slight wind was discomforting to him.

“You never did like the cold, Azmear.” The woman spoke to the new arrival as one would greet a long time acquaintance. Her voice danced on the edge of a light soprano, yet there was only a hint of warmth to it nonetheless.

“Fortunately, this will be your last hunt before the winter calm.” The one called Azmear replied. To the rest of the world, and to the pair before him, he was a Black Robe. A messenger, envoy, watcher, and spy all rolled into one. “And it is good to see you too, Isyllia.”

The woman inclined her head toward Azmear, favoring him with a faint smile. It seemed tinged with a genuine warmth, remaining only several heartbeats before disappearing. “It will be good to be home again.”

Azmear looked toward Isyllia's companion, giving him a nod which the other returned. “You look well, Hagan.” He said in greeting, drawing the others attention to him.

“As do you, Azmear.” The male Claymore replied, glancing away then tilting his head as if listening to something.

The Black Robe's gaze seemed to settle on the male hunter, as if evaluating the other by some unknown standard or measure. Silence seemed to linger for a dozen heartbeats and even as Azmear opened his mouth to speak again, Hagan's right hand shot upward toward the other to gesture for silence. Azmear complied without protest, tucking his chin into the invisible warmth of his scarf.

In that instant, a transformation took place. Both pairs of eyes flashed from silver to gold, something that only occurred when the enemy they had been created to hunt was near.

Yoma.

Before another breath could be taken, Hagan seemed to vanish from sight, leaving the sudden rushing of air and the sharp ringing of his sword hanging in the air behind him. Isyllia followed after her companion, stepping in what must have been the same direction that he had traveled. Dutifully, Azmear followed the woman who was his charge.

A clearly inhuman scream of agony was abruptly cut short nearby. It took Azmear several hurried seconds to cross the distance that Hagan had traveled in only an instant. Isyllia had remained several steps before him and when he arrived Azmear found that Hagan had neatly decapitated the yoma. A flick of the wrist cleared the sword of purple stain upon it before disappearing into the customary resting place.

“How many?” Hagan asked after Azmear's attention drifted away from the corpse at his feet. It wasn't difficult for any of them to determine why the two hunters had been called to this place.

“I have reason to believe that there are over a dozen yoma hiding in the nearby village.” Azmear returned his hands into his sleeves. “Word reached the Organization early last week and you two are the closest. As such, I was to go send you.” The black robes rose then fell in a small shrug. The goggles drifted from one face to the other, drawing a shake of the head from both. “Very well, I'll see you in a couple of weeks.” The Black Robe turned and walked away with the same eerie silence that he'd arrived, leaving the two to their duties.



A small fire had been built in the hearth, yet it's warmth was unnoticed by the gathered crowd of men and women who filled what one took to be a small inn. Tables and chairs had be set in a haphazard arrangement in one corner, with the singular exception of a small dining table and a single chair. A soft murmur seemed to hang in the air, as if the reason for the gathering had yet to be determined. Or perhaps it was just a general unease. The occupant of the chair was a man, his shoulders slumped even as he sat as if he carried a weight about with him constantly. A burden that remained unseen but was present nonetheless.

A man near the front leaned over and banged a closed fist on the table, stilling the conversation in the room and drawing all attention to him. “Two more people were found dead last night. Butchered, like animals.” The man seated at the table grew grim and drew back slightly from the table toward the invisible safety of the wall behind him. Something must have made him as afraid as the others appeared to be. “How much longer must we suffer under this plague? Will we all be killed before they leave?”

The man in the chair leaned back forward in the silence that followed, folding his slightly trembling hands together as if in prayer. It was a long moment before he finally spoke in the silence filled only with the soft sound of the fire crackling. “I feel that we have no choice,” he began quietly, his eyes fixed on his clasped hands. “I've sent for 'them', the only ones who can rid of us of this curse.”

“Them? Them who?” A man near the middle of the crowd demanded.

“Claymore.” He looked up from his clasped hands and scanned the front row of the crowd. “I felt that I had to do something.” His eyes finished scanning then returned to his hands. “And that meant calling upon a Claymore.”

The murmuring of the crowd redoubled what it had been before the impromptu meeting started, filling the air with more questions and no real answers. The conversation halted abruptly as the twin doors at the front of the room banged open and a young man no older than ten stood in the doorway. “They're here: The Claymores.” He panted.



It was easy for the two hunters to tell when they'd entered the village that they'd been sent to cleanse, for a crowd began to gather around them. It was hard to miss the looks of both awe and hope on the faces of the villagers as they huddled close yet dared not to touch, lest they dispel some sort of magic that seemed to follow a Claymore wherever he or she went.

The two hunters walked with an unnatural grace and fluidity, seeming to do more than stroll but rather glide from place to place. As if they were ghosts or some sort of supernatural presence, making the threat of the yoma nearby fade into insignificance of these most lethal yet most human of predators. Yet it was only yoma who feared these predators so, outdrawn and overmatched as they were. No Claymore desired to harm the humans who were their wards and their mentors both.

“It is a very lovely village.” Isyllia said quietly to her partner, so quietly in fact that someone standing more than a few feet away would have had to strain their ears to make out what she'd just said. It would have surprised no one to know that the vixenous beauty was already searching out the yoma that were their prey.

Hagan nodded minutely in agreement, again a motion barely perceptible to the humans around him but obvious enough to his companion. As always, he walked at her side, close enough to touch yet not close enough to accidentally bump against her. Not that such a bump would be accidental, given the enhanced nature of their abilities.

The crowd began to part, drawing away from them as they drew closer to a small cluster of people who seemed to be awaiting them. The two Claymores adjusted their path until they drew near to the small cluster, coming to a stop just outside of their reach. The man in the front of the small cluster of people had been nervously wringing his hands at their approach, clenching both hands into a ball before him. He roughly cleared his throat as if to speak.

Yet before he could do so, something both miraculous yet quite ordinary happened. Two pairs of silver eyes flashed to gold and one of the hunters moved with inhuman swiftness. Her sword rang loudly as she nearly dissected the individual standing next to the man who would yet identify himself as the mayor of this village. She sprang past, purple icor splashing the cobblestones beneath their feet; yet before the two halves of the yoma's body could collapse, she'd already moved onward. Leaping high into the air, she cleared the heads of the gathered crowd, landing with a grace that a feline would envy before closing on what her senses told her was also a yoma in disguise.

The target of her pursuit barely had time to turn to run before the unbreakable blade of her sword neatly sheered his head from the rest of his body with a second but not nearly as impressive spray of purple. Her body was motionless, the huge sword still fully outstretched at the end of the swing, and stained with the same purple that puddled on the cobblestones. The head of the now revealed yoma seemed to hang in the air for a slow heartbeat before suddenly landing with a wet sounding splat. The second yoma's body landed in an untidy heap, partially curled up in a ball as it found it's final resting place.

The other Claymore had remained motionless aside from reaching up to clasp his sword hilt at the same instant that his companion sprang into action. His hand returned to his side only when the second yoma was fully dealt with, as several of the gathered villagers applauded hesitantly at the display of prowess that they'd just seen. With exaggerated slowness, Isyllia flickered her wrist to clear her blade of yoma blood before returning it to the customary place across her back. The crowd parted as she walked back to where her companion still stood, nodding in acknowledgment to several people who reached out to touch her arm.

The man who had been about to speak stared at the neatly dissected yoma body next to him, having been spared from being splashed with so much as a drop of the purple icor now pooling the depressions in the cobblestone pavement beneath his feet. Hagan cleared his throat to draw the man's attention away from the body next to him and back to the Claymore that stood before him. The man's brown eyes jerked back upward, filled with a combination of awe and fear at what had just happened, to meet the silver eyes of the hunter before him.

“My name is Hagan and my companion is Isyllia.” The male Claymore introduced himself then gestured to his companion who had returned to his side only that instant. Rankings would have meant nothing to anyone not in the Organization so he didn't give them. He gave a small smile which lingered as he continued to speak. “We are the ones that have been sent to cleanse your village.”

“Cleanse, right.” The man cleared his throat then offered his hand with a bit of hesitation to the two before him. “Welcome to Dalmor, my name is Vincent. I'm the mayor.” The mayor's eyes returned to the yoma body next to him for a moment.

The male Claymore took his hand and shook it, the small smile fading slowly from his expression. Wearing his normal calm expression, Hagan waited for the mayor to continue. Isyllia stood patiently next to him, with no yoma nearby there was nothing pressing for either of them to do. The two simply waited for the conversation to continue, as this was hardly the first time that they'd been in a similar situation.

The mayor's eyes returned to the two Claymore before him and he gestured hesitantly for them to follow him. “If you'll follow me...” For whatever reason, he chose to lapse into silence rather than continue. Perhaps the presence of a yoma so close to him had unnerved him for he recalled that the very body next to him had been the same person who'd demanded so vehemently that something be done.

The two Claymores followed the mayor to the inn nearby, finding the room nearly cleared except for a table near the front with a chair behind it. The mayor settled into the chair, clasping his hands together before him. He looked up at the two before him and began speaking again. “We're grateful that you've come,” he began. As he continued to speak, he seemed to regain his composure. “I've already assembled the fee for your services and I've prepared a room on the second floor that you can use during your stay. If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask.”

Hagan inclined his head gracefully, offering a smile of thanks. “A man in black will come to collect the fee once we've completed our work. We're not allowed to collect the fee ourselves.” Isyllia shifted her weight from one leg to the other as he paused before continuing. Hagan looked toward her out of the corner of his eye but found her as unreadable as ever. “As for the room, we'll gladly accept your hospitality. We'll need to take a look around your village before we can fully accept your gracious offer, but a small meal of bread and cheese would certainly be appreciated upon our return. If you'll excuse us, the sooner we begin then the sooner your village will be free of yoma.”

The mayor nodded in a jerky, even exaggerated fashion. The two hunters turned and left the inn, walking back out into the warm daytime air. The crowd had slowly begun to disperse and Hagan couldn't help but notice that the yoma bodies had already been removed in the short interval that the two had been indoors.

Hagan turned toward the well that stood in the middle of the square, approaching a middle aged woman accompanied by a girl that couldn't have been more than six and was most likely her daughter. Hagan was aware of Isyllia walking next to him, watching his back as surely as he watched hers. The woman and her daughter turned to them as the two hunters drew near, pausing in the act of drawing water from the well.

The male Claymore put on his most charming smile and crouched next to the little girl. “Hello, little one. My name is Hagan.” He offered her his hand, which the girl took after a moment. She smiled shyly, looking up at her mother for approval before both taking his hand and speaking to him.

“I'm Anna.” The little girl said, trying to give him a very grown up handshake.

“Do you know why we are here, Anna?” Hagan asked the little girl as she let go of his hand. The only bad thing about kneeling was that it tended to overemphasize the size of the sword he wore.

“Nuh uh.” The little girl withdrew a bit behind her mother's skirts but bravely held her ground. Mostly.

“We're here to make all the monsters go away.” Hagan told the little girl, resting his now free hand on his knee. “If you see any monsters, you come find us and we'll scare them away.”

“Okay, I will.” The little girl finally retreated behind the safety of her mother but continued to peer out at him nonetheless.

[lightsenshi]

Part 2. Reviews (even bashing appreciated)

Spoiler for Beginnings, Part 2:

Hagan rose to his feet, nodding in appreciation to the girl's mother before turning and walking back toward the entrance to the village. Isyllia moved to walk at his side, masking her true feelings behind the indifference that she normally wore. Hagan's expression returned to the normal calm as the two turned to the matter at hand, purging the village of yoma. As they drew near the entrance, the two finally came to a stop. With their curiosity satisfied, the villagers returned to their normal routine. Which left the two Claymores to their own devices.

Isyllia lowered her head, closing her eyes and letting her senses roam the area in search of yoki. After several long moments, she opened her eyes again. She lifted her hand and gestured toward the north side of the village. “I'm getting six or so distinct yoki. They're not strong enough for me to pinpoint at this range, as no doubt the yoma are trying quite hard to hide themselves from us now that they know we're here.”

Hagan nodded to Isyllia, not surprised at all by what she was picking up. He could tell that there were yoma somewhere nearby but not specifically where. Isyllia was by far the most sensitive of their generation, earning her the nickname of Seeress Isyllia before they'd even completed their training. “Shall we take a stroll around the village and see how lucky we get?”

Isyllia nodded and gave him a razor thin smile, not one of humor but rather the smile of one in anticipation of yet another hunt. She turned and lead the way, leaving her brother Claymore to walk a step behind her. She lead in a generally northern direction, drifting off to follow a faint yoki trail which usually lead to a doorway. Once at the home of one of the villagers, Isyllia left Hagan to see about getting inside to take a look around. Very few refused when asked, and she noted those that did not as likely places yoma would be hiding.

Most Claymores simply insisted and sometimes pushed their way inside a place where they suspected yoma of hiding but since Isyllia'd been partnered with Hagan she'd never once had to insist. Hagan's skill with words rarely left even the most skittish villager willing to block their entry and every time someone had, it had invariably been because of a yoma hiding inside. Somehow, he seemed able to project a sense of confidence and trust onto the people he spoke with and he'd long since been nicknamed Noble Hagan because of his skill as a diplomat by their brothers and sisters.

As the sun began to dip into the ground, having nearly completed the day's journey that the two arrived at the very last place that she sensed yoki from that they hadn't taken the time to examine. Isyllia stepped away from the door after gesturing toward it, giving her brother Claymore a chance to petition their entry. Hagan rapped politely on the door with gloved knuckles then the two waited for someone inside to answer the door.

After a moment, there was a creaking of floorboards and the rattle of a door being unlocked. As the door swung open, the sense of yoki grew strong. Strong enough to indicate that whatever had opened the door was in fact a yoma in disguise. Even as the door creaked open, two sets of eyes flashed from silver to gold and it was Hagan who reacted first.

Before the door fully opened, the blade in his hand flashed forward in an blindingly fast series of strikes, chopping the yoma within into dozens of pieces before it had time to even register that it had been cut apart as Hagan had the half finished apple that very morning.

Isyllia stepped past Hagan, her sword held in hand and ready for use. She paused inside the room to find the cottage empty except for the yoma parts piled in the doorway. “Empty.” She declared, having already determined exactly that. She sensed rather than saw Hagan's nod of agreement and sheathed her sword.

“There are still five or so of them hiding somewhere in the village.” She said as she turned to him. “And knowing yoma, they won't make it easy.”

“Of course not.” Hagan agreed, nodding to Isyllia even as he finished sheathing his own sword. The two Claymores looked at each other for a moment before Hagan spoke again. “Usual routine then?” He asked, making eye contact with Isyllia.

Isyllia nodded in response, two pairs of silver eyes locked together for a moment before she moved past him. Hagan fell into step next to her, walking quietly in the fading light back to the inn where they'd been offered a room to stay. Isyllia chose to loiter outside while Hagan went inside to talk with the mayor. Unable to find him at first glance, and the room having been returned to what he assumed to be the normal arrangement, he instead stopped a young man to inquire as to where the mayor might have gone.

The boy, who was likely the mayor's son based on a resemblance in appearance, disappeared into the back room. He returned with the man that Hagan recognized as the mayor, who hurried over to greet him. The mayor blinked and looked around before turning his attention to the male Claymore before him. “Your room is ready whenever you'd like to use it and I can have the meal you requested prepared at any time. Say, where is the other one?”

Hagan nodded in response to the question being asked. “Isyllia is outside, awaiting my return.” He explained calmly. He'd long since learned that speaking in a calm voice made it much easier to deal with people who'd otherwise be too skittish to hold an extended conversation with. “We'll be outside tonight and every night until we eliminate all the yoma from the village. They won't show themselves in daylight unless they feel that they have to. We'll make use of the room upon the morning.” He gestured with his left hand slightly toward the crowd gathered around the nearby fireplace. “I have a request.”

The mayor's expression shifted to show his curiosity. “Of course, I'll be happy to help any way I can.” He offered, glancing at the crowd.

“For their own safety, we'd prefer it if everyone lock themselves in their homes at night and keep the windows closed as well.” Hagan continued, letting his senses wander over the crowd in the room. After all, one did occasionally get lucky. “With the two of us keeping an eye on things, that'll mean any yoma will have to come outside to attack any of the villagers. And the sound of a door opening can be very loud at night.”

The mayor seemed to be thinking it over, the look on his face one of thoughtfulness. “Of course, that won't be a problem at all. In fact, I don't know why I hadn't thought of it myself.” He continued, then put his hand on the shoulder of the boy next to him. “Mikal, get your sister and the two of you tell everyone in town. Hurry, before the sun goes all the way down.”

The boy Mikal scampered from the room, leaving the mayor and the Claymore alone. “I'll tell everyone here and let you two go about your business.” The mayor continued. “Anything we can do to help.”

Hagan nodded, smiling to the mayor before turning away. “Thank you very much.” He said then left the inn, returning to Isyllia. The female Claymore had a disinterested expression but he knew that she was already searching for yoma. “East or west?” He asked her, making eye contact again.

“East.” Isyllia nodded to him. “Everything okay then.”

“Yes,” Hagan agreed, breaking eye contact and turning away from her. “Situation normal.” He gave her a wave with his left hand then jumped onto a nearby roof.

Isyllia watched as he leaped several buildings over before settling onto an nonsmoking chimney. “Be safe, my brother.” She said quietly then began looking for a good vantage point in order to oversee her half of the village. She'd finally selected a chimney like he had, with a nice view of the town square. As the light faded into a nearly full moon, she could just see a reflection of the moonlight off of the waters inside the well nearby.

She settled down into what would surely be a most quiet of evenings, the first of many she expected in this village. It was a nice village with friendly enough people, and she would be glad when they finally got rid of the yoma hiding here. No one should have to live under the plague that yoma represented and the reason she lived was to protect otherwise ordinary people from them. Life could prove to be difficult enough without having this threat to their very lives hanging over them.

She knew that this night would pass as every night before when she'd been on the hunt. Every sound would draw her attention, every passing shadow the same. Even as the moon made her slow path across the sky, no yoma stirred or moved about. No screams were heard, no sounds of anyone moving about on the streets below. A quiet, peace filled night. Probably the first that this town had seen in a very long time.

She stifled a yawn as the sun slowly crept up below the horizon at her back. She felt the warming rays upon her, waiting patiently as the streets below slowly began to come to life. The sound of morning conversation echoed below her, filled with the quiet voices that people used during those sleepy hours. She tuned into no one conversation, rather letting herself luxury in the night well spent. The people below sounded hopeful and reassured, something that a good night's rest certainly helped with.

It wasn't until the sun was fully up and the streets were filled that Isyllia sensed her brother Hagan moving from his perch on the other end of the village. She rose to her feet, hoping lightly down from the chimney to the roof then to the ground. She exchanged morning greetings with several of the villagers as she walked to the inn where she would meet up with her partner.

Isyllia found herself in front of the inn before Hagan arrived, waiting patiently as he'd no doubt stopped along the way to speak with some of the villagers. Fortunately for her patience, she only had to wait a few moments before her errant brother hunter arrived. She gave him a smile that reflected a false sense of impatience, going inside before him. She left him to follow, knowing that even if she were to suddenly walk into a nest of yoma that he'd be right there behind her.

It was easy for her to determine which room had been set aside for their use as she simply had to follow her nose to the smell of warm bread and freshly made cheese. She climbed the steps to the second level, going inside the room. Hagan entered right behind her and closed the door quietly behind him.

“Uneventful, of course.” Hagan told Isyllia as she removed her sword and leaned it against the wall next to her. He broke the small loaf of bread in half, handing her one and setting it on the cutting board before doing the same with the white cheese that was also there.

Hagan watched in silence as Isyllia took several bites of both cheese and bread before setting the remainder aside. She plopped down untidily on the bed, rolling onto her side with a yawn. “Wake me in a couple of hours or so.” She requested then drifted off to sleep before he could even answer her.

“Of course,” Hagan told the female Claymore, drawing his own sword and leaning it against the wall next to hers. Several bites of bread and cheese were enough for him as well, so he sat down then leaned against the bed. He sat in silence, listening to the soft sound of her breathing as she slept. He stifled one last yawn then tucked his chin into his chest before dozing off himself. The hunt had just begun.



Hagan opened his eyes and looked out the open window, seeing that the sun was just beginning to set. He looked over his shoulder to see Isyllia still asleep and hogging the bed, just like usual. Part of their training had been to sleep anytime and anywhere, sitting down was just as natural as laying down by the time they'd earned their swords. He half turned then reached over to tap her gently on the back of the hand to wake her up. “Wake up, sleepy. Time to go to work.” He stood up, absently making minute adjustments to his muscles to work out any kinks that might have developed while he slept.

Finding none, he reached over and picked up his sword. Even as he settled it into place with the usual soft clinking sound, a soft yawn could be heard from the bed. “Evening, already?” His companion seemed to be protesting but he knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't miss the night's hunt for anything short of having her legs hacked off. And even then she'd find a way, in many ways she was a stubborn as he was.

He took a nibble of cheese, half listening to the sound of her getting out of bed and getting ready herself. “Which night do you think they'll finally come out of hiding?” He asked her as she settled her sword into place. He could tell at a glance that she was ready for the evening's hunt, returning his attention to the small bit of cheese in his hand.

“Let's see....” She seemed to be thinking it over. “How about fifth night?” She suggested, turning away and opening the door to the room. She paused at the door for a moment, waiting for the startled villager to move out of the hallway.

“Fifth night it is.” He agreed readily, turning to follow her. She was being her usual inapproachable self as they left the inn but he nodded in response to several raised mugs in their direction. Things were already beginning to improve as the village had reason to no longer fear the yoma hiding within their very midst.

He exchanged a wave as they always did before heading to the places that they'd chosen to watch over the villagers. As they'd chosen to start before the sun had gone down, he found himself returning evening greetings with villagers hurrying home for the night. Hagan settled down as the day turned fully into night, noting that Isyllia had chosen the same spot as the night before.

Anything moving about would not escape their notice nor would even the rustling of leaves in the deserted streets below. The yoma hiding here would have two choices, to try to slip out of the village unnoticed or to try to find a meal under the watchful eyes of himself and his partner. The first would be more likely to succeed than the second but he wouldn't wager on the success of either.

He knew that given that it was nearly winter, the yoma would have to make their escape within the next week or so. Given that it was slowly getting colder each night, the yoma would be too sluggish to move about in a way that would fool either of them. Which meant it would be a week or so until they got to go back to the Organization's headquarters which was also their home.

The losses among his brother and sister Claymores had been surprising to him after that first year, finding that most of them that had disappeared had instead turned into what were now being called Awakened Beings. Which was what happened to a hunter when he or she gave into the seductive power of his or her yoma side.

The number must have been a concern to the people that controlled the Organization as well, as it was only their second year of service and he'd been paired with another hunter as a result at the beginning of this one. He'd long since adjusted to working with a partner and sometimes even found that experience to be a pleasant one.

Hagan let his mind wander, dividing his attention between his musings and the streets below him. When the sun finally crept upward, it was no surprise to him that the night had been peaceful. Listening to the morning conversations revealed to him that in spite of the coming winter, the village was in a cheerful mood.

Once the sun was fully up, he hopped easily off of his chimney perch to the ground below. He exchanged morning greetings as he headed back to the inn where they'd stayed the day before. Today's routine would be different from yesterday's as they'd both been without sleep for the better part of a week and while it hadn't showed, it certainly made things a bit more difficult.

On long hunts like this, they'd figured out that they could rest in the first couple of days then remain watchful thereafter without interruption. Hence his question to her about when they should seriously begin to hunt. He even found himself humming an old childhood tune as he returned to the inn.



Isyllia hopped down from her perch to find the woman and little girl that Hagan had spoken to on the day that they arrived waiting for her. She gave the two a curious look but before she could speak, the little girl came over and gave a tug on her sleeve. “There's a monster under my bed.” The little girl sounded insistent. “Can you get scare it away for me?”

Isyllia found herself smiling at the little girl, who gave her a concerned look. She crouched down in front of her so that she was eye level with the little girl. “A big scary monster?” She asked seriously, remembering when she herself had been afraid of monsters, too. Only her monsters turned out to be yoma that had slaughtered her entire family.

“Yeah, big and hairy.” The little girl stretched her arms out as far as she could. “He's at least this big.” She continued with that expression that only children could have when they're convinced of something.

“That's a pretty big monster.” Isyllia told the girl as she lowered her arms. “How about we get him to stop hiding under your bed and scaring you at night? I bet he's as scared of you as you are of him.”

“Really?” The little girl grabbed the female Claymore's hand, tugging on it even as the hunter got to her feet. “Let's go scare him away then.”

“Yes, let's.” Isyllia agreed, letting the little girl lead the way. She nodded and gave a small smile of encouragement to the girl's mother, who joined in their impromptu procession.



The past several days had passed without incident and the villagers were in good spirits. Hagan couldn't help but smile at that, returning a wave from one of the villagers who he recognized lived in the cottage across the street from the chimney he'd chosen to watch from. The house below him was one of several that had become deserted as a result of the yoma that were still hiding in the village.

Now that it was the fifth night since their arrival and neither yoma nor a victim of same had been found. Soon, the yoma would grow so hungry as to have to come out and eat. Which meant that they'd have to reveal themselves to the watchful pair of hunters above them. He was also beginning to smell the snow, which meant soon that it would be fully winter and the yoma would be trapped wherever they'd hid themselves. And here they were prey, as they'd been preying on humans before the Claymores had arrived.

Hagan passed the evening as he'd every evening on the hunt. However, it was nearly midnight before he'd heard the soft creaking of a door and the rustling of leaves which indicated someone was about. As suddenly as the sound began, it faded back into silence. But by then it was too late, for as surely as the moonlight bathed the streets, he could sense that it was a yoma. It was one, no two, yoma lurking about the streets below.

While they were closer, much closer, to Isyllia than to himself that would not matter in the slightest. He leaped from his place, drawing his sword even before he hit the ground. He was running at full speed even as his feet hit the ground, inhumanly fast. So fast that Hagan crossed the village in mere seconds, arriving even as Isyllia did.

By accident or design, the two Claymores chose different yoma. The two yoma barely had time to shed their human disguises before they were fallen upon by those that hunted them. Isyllia neatly cut the one at the waist then decapitated it, while Hagan's sword blurred into the technique he called the Quick Sword.

The sound of ringing swords faded into silence, as sudden as the ringing of blades had been. The two exchanged a long look over the corpses of their fallen enemies then nodded in unison. “The others won't come out until they're desperate.” Isyllia said quietly, clearing the blood from her blade with a flick of her wrist then returning it to its resting place across her back.

“A couple more days, probably.” Hagan agreed quietly, his eyes turning to the dead yoma between them. He likewise cleared his blade of blood then returned it to its resting place.

“Probably.” Isyllia agreed, standing silently for a moment more before leaving the bodies behind.


Azmear figured that ten days would have been sufficient time for the two Claymores to kill all the yoma hiding in Dalmor. He walked into the village, having chosen the northern entrance rather than the westernly one that his two charges had selected. He'd barely passed from dirt to cobblestone when he discovered that he'd been half right in his assessment.

He heard a throaty roar that he figured could only belong to a yoma, hurrying as best he could in the direction that the sound had come from. It was a rare treat to watch the Organization's hunters in action, one he didn't plan to miss. He barely reached the opening to the main square of the village, finding half a dozen yoma engaged in combat with Hagan and Isyllia.

If he'd blinked twice, he would have missed it. So fast were the two that he doubted that even they realized it. There was a ringing of swords, the abruptly cut off roaring of the yoma, and then a sudden silence. Six yoma bodies, five more or less recognizable and one in pieces, seemed to land on the cobblestones at almost the same instant.

“I think we're done.” Hagan said in a dry tone of voice, a statement confirmed by Isyllia's firm nod.

Azmear blinked in surprise at the sound of applause from the various villagers clustered around the square. The villagers pressed close to the two Claymores, talking with them or simply just touching an arm or shoulder.

When Azmear saw Hagan meet his gaze and nod before returning to conversation, he knew that the pair would return to the Organization's headquarters when opportunity presented itself. As for him, he had a fee to collect then he'd be on his way home as well. Though he'd never admit it, he was looking forward to the winter calm as much as they did.

[Bikerider]

oh dern... looks like I typed 2 instead of two after the copy - paste. part 3 it is.

[revan5]

http://www.fanfiction.net/anime/Clay.../0/5043/0/0/1/

I'm up to chapter 7, technically my 8th chapter if you count the Prologue. It is looking good. Please check it out if you can. I could always use more constructive reviews by dedicated claymore fans.

[Bikerider]

meanwhile as the ghosts head off to the org to rescue Miria, part 4

Miata: Smelly... Stinky...

Clarice: Yes Headquarters is smelly and stinky.

Miata: No, the warriors in black. Need to bathe. Smelly. Stinky.. .

Galatea: At least they aren't as bad as Clare. Good thing they put her down wind.

[lightsenshi]

Originally Posted by revan5

http://www.fanfiction.net/anime/Clay.../0/5043/0/0/1/

I'm up to chapter 7, technically my 8th chapter if you count the Prologue. It is looking good. Please check it out if you can. I could always use more constructive reviews by dedicated claymore fans.

Awesome. Very good read. (And it's about my favorite Claymore.)

The entire story flows well, and sets a pace that keeps the reader interested. While not finished at the time of this review, it lends a credible 'what if' might happen in the future of the storyline.

[lightsenshi]

If anyone else would like a review of their fiction, please give me a nudge. I've got plenty of free time.


Also, I've included a prelude to my storyline (and hence a new link). Enjoy!

Beginnings

[revan5]

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6372390/1/Claymore_New_Era

My fanfic is now up to its penultimate chapter, so please enjoy! It has been garnering some positive reviews and is now almost 100,000 words long in its ff.net version. Please leave a constructive review if you want.

[Weird D]

Spoiler for Outtake : Fun with OOC:

The beauty of a fanfic with no actual story is that you can do things you couldn’t otherwise without worrying about credibility and continuity. Therefore, after being given a taste of her afterlife, Miria was surprised to find herself once again among the living.

Her ass however was still sore.

But of course, she wouldn’t be sent back if there wasn’t a plot to be written.

ATTENTION! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! A PLOT BUNNY HAS ESCAPED! ALL PERSONNEL ARE REQUIRED TO GIVE CHASE AND CAPTURE! I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL…

“Shut the f*ck up already!”

Miria turned to the person and gaped in surprise.

“What the f*ck are you looking at?”

The resurrected warrior had to pinch herself.

“Take a f*cking picture, it’ll last longer.” Cynthia growled without moving from her leaning position against the wall. She then looked up. “ENOUGH WITH THE F*CKING CENSORSHIP YOU F*CKING LITTLE SH*T OF AN ***HOLE AUTHOR!!!” she shouted.

“Cynthia?” Miria asked, unable to believe this was the sweet, polite woman she knew. “What’s going on here?”

“Who do you think I am? Your f*cking lapdog? Ask Tabitha.”

Any more questions from Miria were forestalled by the sensation of something bouncing on her head. She was then struck by a sense of déjà vu as someone bowled her over, sending her on her still sore posterior.

“Captain?” a voice laced asked with a tone that conveyed a mix of surprise, wonder and disbelief. “Captain it’s you! I’m so glad to see you!”

Opening her eyes, Miria found herself looking up into Tabitha’s eyes. However, instead of glomping her like she would have expected from her number one follower, Tabitha calmly stood up and offered her hand to help her.

“Hurry up it’s getting away! Oh, Miria, it’s good to see you.” Miria actually had trouble recognizing Rubel’s voice due to the lack of its usual oily smugness. In fact, it sounded like the man was genuinely happy to see her.

Okay, something was definitely amiss here.

“I would like to catch up after your most fortunate resurrection however we are currently in the middle of a crisis. Your assistance would be greatly appreciated.” the spy finished.

“What is going on here? And where are the others?”

“The others are unavailable.” Tabitha sighed tiredly. “Helen passed out when Raki hit on her… oh wait, she’s awake now.” Tabitha amended, pointing to the usually outgoing warrior who was backing from her old friend.

“P-P-please Deneve… I… I’m not… I don’t think it’s a… very good idea…” Helen stuttered, shrinking on herself and poking her fingers together as Deneve advanced on her with an evil grin on her face.

“C’me on! It’s just a quickie, don’t be such a prude Helen! Oh, hey Miria! Wassup?” Deneve grinned at Miria. Helen tried to get away but Deneve pounced on her. “Gotcha! Now let’s see if Raki’s done with the others.”

“Eeeeepppp!!!” Helen let out a mouse-like squeak and fainted with a nosebleed. Deneve giggled as she slung her unconscious friend over her shoulder and walked away.

Miria stared at the hallway. “THAT was Deneve? And what was that about Raki hitting on Helen?”

“He’s been hitting on every single Claymore since that thing got out... Amazing that those lame pick-up lines work. Last time I checked he was in a threesome with Clarice and Dietrich.”

“And Clare doesn’t mind?”

“Clare is too busy making out with Priscilla to care.” Rubel informed helpfully. “Besides they got their turn earlier.”

“Oh, sure… WAIT… WHAT?”

Tabitha ignored the outburst. “Yuma said she’d be back when she’s done kicking the Organization’s ass… You’ve seen Cynthia… Galatea wanted some piercings and a haircut… she mentioned a pink Mohawk… Only Rubel was nice enough to help me.”

‘Rubel… nice…’ Miria’s brain attempted to process the information. ‘Does…not… compute…’

“It was my pleasure.” Rubel actually smiled.

“Please Tabitha, I’m lost.” Miria pleaded. “What is going on here?”

She only received a grave look from Tabitha. “Captain, the OOC plot bunny is on a sugar high. THIS is the result.”

“The what?” Miria asked.

Rubel pushed his glasses up his nose and pointed to the blurring shape bouncing off the walls. “OOC, or out of character if you prefer. It means that the author has one or several characters acting differently from the way established in canon. It can be a simple change, a complete reversal, or on the contrary, strengthening a trait, sometimes to the extreme.”

“Now, the change can be justified by the plot, be intended to be funny, or downright aimed to bash a character. For instance, the author enjoys making you OOC to break you from your overly serious canon persona. Deneve’s cuteness attack a more drastic example of OOC.” Tabitha explained. “Just like making me obsessed with you…”

“I notice you haven’t attempted to kiss Miria since she’s back.” Rubel supplied without a hint of sarcasm.

“… or having Rachel jump Rubel’s bones just to make his life hell.” Tabitha shot back snidely. “Speaking of which…”

“Hoo hoo... Ruby-poo…” a sweet and obviously fake whine was heard. They turned around and saw Rachel.

In a pink short dress.

It would have looked cute on anyone else.

“Could you give me a back rub? Pwetty pwease…” she pouted.

Rubel smiled at her. “Of course. Please excuse me, my fair lady is calling.” the spy apologized before scurrying away.

“Wanna bet they both freak out when it’s over?” Cynthia snickered.

“This…” Miria began, “This is insanity! THIS IS MAD-humph!” Whatever she was about to say was cut off by Tabitha’s and Cynthia’s hands on her mouth.

You could almost hear the Author pout.

They removed their hands and Tabitha continued. “Anyway, while the Author normally uses OOC somewhat sparingly…”

“Yeah right.” Miria muttered.

“… something set it off, badly, and it went loose. So instead of a minor change…”

“It completely screws us up.” Cynthia finished crossly. “Instead of my goody-two-shoes self I’m a cursing bitch, Rubel’s actually nice, Raki’s a womanizer, Clare and Priscilla are all lovey-dovey…”

“… Helen’s shy and Deneve only wants to have fun.” Miria guessed. “This… is bad.”

“Are you shitting me?” the normally sweet Claymore snorted. “As it is right now, that thing could probably make Ophelia hug kittens. I bet they’re all laughing their asses off up there.”

‘If only you knew.’ Miria thought, having seen the kind of entertainment the dead characters had. Then another thought occurred to her. “Hey, why aren’t I and Tabitha affected anyway?”

“Well, OOC is only fun if some characters remain the same. What would be the point if having everyone act crazy if no one picks on it?” Tabitha replied. “Since you get OOC in all the others fics, you’re exempted this time.”

“Lucky me.” Miria muttered. “I’m the only normal one in a bunch of nutcases.”

Tabitha frowned. “Captain, I’ll let you know that my personality hasn’t been affected either.”

This got a snicker from Cynthia. “What personality? Your only distinctive trait is to follow Miria like a puppy. Heck, it’s even been stated in canon recently.” Ignoring Tabitha’s glare, Cynthia turned to Miria. “She was going to attack the Org by herself but Deneve stopped her. Taby then punched her for mouthing you off.”

In the Claymore Afterlife, most characters were engaged in a heated debate about who had won the bet. Some said Tabitha had wanted to die, and other argued that it didn’t matter since she had failed.

“Aren’t we getting off topic?” Tabitha huffed to hide her anger. “We need to stop this thing before it causes more havoc!”

“And how do we do that?” Miria asked as she tried to keep her eyes on the super-fast cabbit. “The Pokegirl plot bunny was bad enough, but this one acts like it’s on crack!” She then narrowed her eyes. “Who stopped it last time by the way?”

Both other Claymores shuffled uneasily.

Over the PA system, innocent whistling could be heard.

“Well?” Miria prodded.

And then salvation came.

“… YUMAAAA… THROW!!!”

Three large whirling objects flew past the trio, narrowly missing them, and impaled the wall behind.

*THUNK!*

*THUNK!*

*THUNK!*

When they looked at the wall, they saw that the now very still plot bunny now looked like a circus knife-throwing target.

Except that the ‘knives’ in question were claymores.

One of which was embedded just between its ears.

“Hell yeah!” Yuma cheered and pumped her fist. “Number Forty saves the day! Damn I’m good!”

Everyone blinked.

“Did Yuma just call her attack like a manga character?” Miria asked.

“Well, we are manga characters.” Tabitha rationalized.

“What the hell is she doing here? She said she was going to the Org.” Cynthia asked.

“Oh but I did! Went there, kicked ass and ripped them a new one!” Yuma gave them a V sign. “Well, except for Dae, he was working on a cure for cancer.” she amended before walking to the frightened cabbit. The small animal looked up fearfully as the emboldened Claymore smiled sweetly and shook her forefinger in a scolding motion. Wordlessly she then pointed to where it came from.

The cowed plot bunny gulped nervously and nodded. It peeled itself from the wall and shakily walked away, opening a small trap door in the wall and disappearing inside.

Yuma grinned and wiped her hands in a satisfied way. “There! This solves that problem, everything should be okay soon.”

“I hope so Yuma-san.” Cynthia agreed.

“It looks like it’s started.” Miria said, noticing Cynthia’s more formal speech as well as Yuma’s posture becoming less assertive.

A loud girlish scream, quickly identified as Rubel’s, was heard in the distance. In the meantime, a half naked Raki ran past them, a rabid Helen on his heels.

“Please Helen! It wasn’t my fault!” the young man pleaded.

“I don’t care!” Helen shouted back. “You did Color-Head, Shorty and Deneve, so I’ll be damned if I don’t get my turn!”

“Well, looks like everyone’s back to normal.” Miria sighed, hearing what sounded like two hellcats attempting to kill each other coming from somewhere else, which indicated that Clare and Priscilla were not happy with their current situation. Anything else she wanted to say was interrupted for she suddenly found herself in the ‘super-happy glomp of doom’ she had been expecting/dreading at the beginning of the chapter.

“CAPTAIN!!!” Tabitha squealed in delight, sending them both to the floor. She was so happy to see Miria that she looked like she could kiss her.

In fact she was already puckering up.

“Yes,” Yuma smiled, “definitely back to normal.”

“Not affected, yeah right.” Cynthia smirked in a (normal) display of OOC. “Shouldn’t we help her?” she asked as Tabitha’s ministrations turned to outright humping and Miria tried to fend her off with little success.

“Well, look who’s back.” They didn’t know if the subtle smirk on Deneve’s face was due to Miria’s predicament or something else as the Ghosts’ surrogate commander walked to them; they wisely chose not to comment on her slight limp though.

“Deneve! Help!” Miria begged as she frantically moved her head left and right to dodge Tabitha’s lips, looking like a human attacked by a Facehugger from the Alien movies.

“I don’t think so! You deserve it, and I still have to sock you one after that!” Deneve stated before walking away, Cynthia and Yuma following her.

“WHA-HMPH!!!!” Miria’s protest was cut off as the Facehugger… err…Tabitha finally succeeded in latching herself to her mouth.

‘Then again these movies never ended with hot girl-on-girl action.’ the Author thought as Miria’s clothes began to fly.

In case you're wondering, these are the two posts that made the plot bunny go crazy...
http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...ostcount=14876
http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...ostcount=14878

SHIEKY THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!

[Shiek927]

Ehh, ain't I a stinker?