One Happy Day

One Happy Day
by Orleans

Story Notes

Originally posted to the “Pinkboard,” Dec. 2006.

This story is set somewhere after Wraiths of Will and Pleasure.

Characters: Ulaume, Flick. Lileem, Terez and Lianvis mentioned

Rating: R

I was bored today, that’s the result. I hope you like it. The story is not checked by a beta. All mistakes are mine.

I’m wishing you a Happy New Year!

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters , they all belong to the genius Storm Constantine. And no money is made with that story.

One Happy Day

Some days, Ulaume regretted his choice to leave the tribe of the Kakkahar. It was not often the case but on special days he wished he could just leave everyone and everything behind, run back into the desert and hide inside Lianvis’ tent.

It was one of those days. One of those days when really everything was going wrong and the idea to run was becoming more and more appealing. He should have know better than to get up in the morning at all, but despite all the powers he had, he was unable to see what the future might bring.

The day had started nice enough and the morning light didn’t gave any hints that something – or better, almost everything – would go downhill from the moment he left the safe nest of his bed.

He blinked into the bright light that woke him this morning and smiled with contentment. He felt warm and happy and lazily stretching he reached out to touch his beloved Flick who was sleeping beside him.

Well, normally sleeping beside him. Ulaume’s hand encountered nothing but a pillow. Frowning he looked up and found the bed beside him empty; Flick was no longer beside him.

Frustration welled up inside him and caused his hair to move restlessly against his back. Why did the other har always have to get up so early without waking him? Couldn’t he just stay in bed a bit longer? He knew how Ulaume liked to cuddle a bit before getting up but lately there had not been many chances for that.

”There’s so much to do. You know, the work and all the problems don’t resolve themselves. We can’t afford being lazy.”

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A New Life

A New Life
by Orleans

Story Notes

Characters: Ulaume, Lianvis

Rating: NC17

Beta: Steph, thank you.

Summary: My first attempt in this fandom. Ulaume’s life changed when he started his new life with the tribe of the Kakkahar.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters; they all belong to Storm Constantine. No money is made.

A New Life

I was getting tired and all I wanted to do was lying down and sleep. For how long I had been waiting inside this pompous tent since my arrival I really had no idea. Not that I particularly cared, I just wanted to finally rest.

It was too hot for my liking, since it was barely past midday and the sun was directly at the zenith. I felt terribly sticky and the dried blood on my wrists and ankles made me want to scratch the skin from the bones there.

All I wanted – beside some sleep- was a nice bath to get rid off the dirt. That was indeed the worst thing of all, when I thought about it. I hated to be dirty like this! Dust, sand, blood and sweat covered me like a second skin; I couldn’t stand the smell of myself.

After some unknown hara of this new tribe had pulled the blindfold away, unceremoniously lead me into this tent and told me to sit down no one had bothered about me. I just had caught a glimpse at a tall, golden haired hara who was sitting in front of the tent with the leader of my ‘keepers’. That was all.

I was thirsty as hell too, licking my dry lips, I hoped that someone would think of giving me something to drink after the long journey I had behind me, but no.

No one entered the tent for a long time and I simply couldn’t make myself get up and look through the wooden cupboard nearby. And that was the famous hospitality of the notorious Kakkahaar? If so, then the stories were terribly exaggerated.

From time to time I heard soft murmurs coming somewhere from the left, where the entrance of this tent had to be. Words drifted through the fabrics, words I didn’t really understand. Only now and then I recognized the voices. The delegation of the Colurastes, ‘my’ tribe, I thought sourly, was obviously still trying to sell my hide. Perhaps the leader of this camp had no interest at all to buy me? Would be funny to see what they’d do then.

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Sleepless Nights

Title: Sleepless Nights
by Haylz

Story Notes

Characters: Ulaume & Flick

Rating: R

Spoilers: This takes place during The Wraiths of Will and Pleasure so if you haven’t read that – DO IT! then it would be kinda spoilery.

Summary: Ulaume is struggling with Flick’s secret and how it is affecting them.

Disclaimer: The lovely Wraeththu world and it’s inhabitants all belong to Storm Constantine, I own nothing.

Author’s note: This is for enelya_telrunya because I promised her Flick/Ulaume fic (and I promised fluff so that will have to come later), and for emseviltwin because she needs some cheering up. It’s not really a cheery fic mind you, just some waffle using poor Ulaume as the source. He doesn’t get nearly enough fic and so what do I do? Torture him. 😛

And yes I usually do NC17, but for some reason I couldn’t with this, I just didn’t think it suited the mood.

Sleepless Nights

Ulaume couldn’t sleep. Sheets twisted beneath his body as he rolled over, creating an uncomfortable bunching that just irritated him even more. With a big sigh, he glanced over at his chesnari.

Flick appeared to be sleeping, and Ulaume couldn’t help but feel a little bitter at the fact, seeing as how Flick was the reason he couldn’t doze off.

For too long now the dark haired har who had charmed Ulaume’s heart had closed himself off from everyhar, and it hurt Ulaume more than he cared to admit. He did have his pride afterall, and he felt foolish that a har like Flick could come and strip that away from him so easily.

Everything had seemed fine for awhile, Flick had told Ulaume that he loved him, and Ulaume had no reason not to believe it. Now however, he spent most of his days (and nights) racking his brain to think of anything he might have done to cause Flick to retreat in such a way. The thing was, he didn’t think he had done anything to upset his chesnari, and that troubled him even more. The fact that he could see no way to help Flick through whatever it was that tormented him was killing Ulaume, and Flick hadn’t helped by shying away from any attempts his chesnari had made to draw him out.

Remembering the comfort he used to feel when Flick would hold him close in bed as they both drifted off to sleep, Ulaume looked sadly at the space between them now; less than an arm’s reach away, Flick may as well have been on the other side of the world.

Ulaume used to find peace in watching his chesnari sleep, now he realized it only brought him pain.

He sat up wearily; his body ached from the lack of proper rest, and his heart ached from the loss of something else.

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The Snakes-Tamer

The Snakes-Tamer
by LoLL

Story Notes

Author: LoLL (loll4000 (at) gmail (dot) com)

Title: The Snakes-Tamer

Beta: ervinae (THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU)

Rating: NC17

Characters: Lianvis/Ulaume

Summary: Ulaume meets his fate

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Wraeththu Universe and its characters belong to Storm Constantine.

Spoliers: None, I think. This is just how I love to think things between those two have gone

Warning: Angst, a bit of violence, slight BDSM and, of course, aruna.

The Snakes-Tamer

I woke up in a room that was as cold and dark as a black pit. It took me a while to realize that my eyes were still closed . When I tried to open them, a jolt of pain radiated from my skull throughout my body. I tried to breath deeply for not retching. Slowly, my other senses began to register the surroundings while white flashes danced in front of me.

I was lying on a sandy floor, naked, and my hair was curling around my frame as to protect and keep me warm. But that was not enough; I was shivering and my teeth rattled, making a weird sound in the silence of the room. With a huge act of will I forced myself to remember, but my only memories were the beatings, and voices… Somebody was trading on me as if I was a piece of dead meat. And maybe I was indeed.

Again, I tried to open my eyes, carefully this time, and even if the pain was still there, raging behind the eyelids, I began to see something blurred. It seemed to be a tent I was inside, a small canopy. Between the thin fissures of my swollen eyes I could see the end of my legs: they were roped by ankles to a peg in the ground, like a dog. But what really caught my attention was a half broken cup in front of me. I sensed water and suddenly my throat burned. Ignoring the ache, I extended my hand, panting and wailing like a broken puppy, and managed to drag the cup to my split lips. Half of the water washed on the floor but I drunk avidly what was left, only to throw it up a moment later. I lay still, panting hard and felt tears burning my cheeks. If I had to die, I hoped it would be soon.

In that moment the tent opened and a tall figure stood between the light and me. I could only see the outline and something waving behind his back, maybe a cloak.

“Very well, our new guest has finally woken up, it seems. Did you rest well, Ulaume?”
With a kick, the figure threw the cup away and I moaned in desperation.

“Do not worry, I’ll bring you more water, if you behave. And food. But you must prove you are worth the money I paid for you, or I’ll let you die of starvation.” The voice was calm and deep, cold like ice.

The tall har snapped his fingers and another figure entered the room. He was dressed in a long tunic and a scarf covered his head and face, leaving only his eyes visible. The new har knelt beside me and lifted my head gently. I moaned. I must have broken some ribs from the beatings. Every move stole my breath away.

“Hush…” whispered the new har, “do not move. This will help to lessen the pain and heal faster.”

The brew was tepid and smelled of rotten fruits, but I welcomed the little droplets the har let slip into my mouth like the most tasteful and refreshing juice.

“Slowly! Or you will retch again.”

It took me an eternity but I managed to drink it all and keep it in my stomach. When the last droplet was drained, I collapsed against my saviour’s body, trying to steal a little bit of warmth.

Another snap and the har laid me back on the dusted soil and disappeared out of the tent.

I wanted to talk. I wanted to know what had happened, why I was there and who they were, but the words only rasped on the back of my throat and didn’t come out.

The tall har knelt beside me. It was too dark to distinguish his features but his eyes sparkled like two opalescent pearls, a strange nuance of pale blue that seemed almost white.

“My name is Lianvis, and this is my tribe, the Kakkahaar. The reason why you are here should be obvious to you since you tried to kill your former master. A thought I warmly suggest you to never direct at me… or I will make you yearn for the punishment he gave you as a sweet reward. He sold you to me for my… experiments, but I’m curious to see what hides under that filth and blood. If I think you are worth the effort, I may even keep you and train you. Otherwise, well… we’ll find, for sure, a recreative use for that body of yours.”

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Aleeme

Aleeme
by James Leader (“Louiscypher”)

Story Notes

Spoiler warning: What happens after Shades

Canon Characters: Aleeme, Ulaume, Cobweb

– 1 –

Waking in darkness. Sparks of light break through from somewhere else. Memory voices speak down to me. I throw up.

I throw up a lot.

Music appears in my head, chaotic, sweet, sickening. In and out, up and down, the music is all around me. A chorus of sounds dancing in the darkness just for me and the many fractures that have become my mind. I scream and cry and puke and piss but the stain of what happened to me will never just…go…away.

Why can’t I remember what went on in my life before this great sadness? Why does my life begin with such fire and hatred? Screaming off in the distance, no, it is my own voice, screaming again. I have lost control again. Can’t think Can’t think Can’t think. It hurts my soul to think, to try to corral my thoughts into some sort of stream of sense.

Hands, strong and sure, grip me and hold me, soothe me, caress me, like a host would their own. They keep me from trying to harm myself. The room I stay in is empty except for the bed in the corner. the walls are smooth and soft so I do not hurt myself when I lose myself. I have nothing but this bed. They come in every day, pull my bed out from the corner, putting it in the middle of the room where they circle it and close their eyes. While those gentle, harmless, loving hands hold me, the circle of “they” hum in unison. I know not what they do to my bed, but I always fall into a deep sleep when I am brave enough to lie in it again.

No windows in my room. The light burns my skin and makes me cry for I know then that there is a chance that what lies on the other side of that window is the truth. My truth and I cannot face it, not yet.

Faces are distorted and laughter is heard. Hands and claws grab and rip at my skin, invading my softest parts, burning them and killing me. I see a face in the dirt and it is mewling at me but I am too weak to reach for it. I close my eyes and when they reopen, the creature is gone. My little comfort, my worst nightmare, gone. Gasping for breath, I awaken to the darkness. It was not real, it was only a memory. I touch myself in places to assure myself that I am still whole and unhurt. It is in these moments of great stress that I can sense about me a type of serenity, dare I say, a sense of clarity. Those moments are very far and few in between, for the darkness creeps back in and wraps it’s arms around my soul again.

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