“You are not following me, Jupiter.” She grabbed for the cleanest of the clothes that were there before he had someone go shopping, and started pulling them on over her scantily clad form. “You will not have someone follow me, you will not interfere with what is already happening again.” She jerked a sweater over her head and then paused to glare at him. “I will take care of it myself. Do you understand me? It is not up to you.” He would be able to see the fear in her eyes, mixed with her anger, and hear the crack in her voice as she spoke so firmly, but not loudly to him.

As she was pulling on an old looking pair of jeans, she was in a hurry and started to hop around a little on one foot. “I am going to leave, and where I go, nobody needs to know. This is my problem.” Yeah, what she said. Xavia glowered as she looked around for some clean socks, then sat on the bed and started working them onto her dainty feet. “If you think you are going to do otherwise, you have another thing coming.”

Firm nod.

She was afraid for him, and anyone else. There were no answers yet to the questions in her head about the kidnapper, nor the vague professor from her dreams. She didn’t remember who they were, where they came from, or why they picked her. She just knew they were dangerous, and so was Jupiter for an entirely different reasoning. He was dangerous because she was already half in love with the man, and wanted him so badly. He gummed up the works, so to speak, the cogs that turned in her brain. It was hard to think when he kissed her, and harder still when she was the one kissing him.

Her lips pressed together and she jerked on an old pair of sneakers, intending on leaving with just the clothes on her back…. Again… Her eyes rested on his face before looking away, perhaps out of guilt, perhaps something else.

~~“You are not following me, Jupiter.” “You will not have someone follow me, you will not interfere with what is already happening again.” “I will take care of it myself. Do you understand me? It is not up to you.”

“Iam following you, I wouldn’t send someone else to do something important like this. You can take care of it yourself but it will not be alone. I do not understand you in the least!”


~~“I am going to leave, and where I go, nobody needs to know. This is my problem.” “If you think you are going to do otherwise, you have another thing coming.”

“Oh? And how exactly are you going to stop me?” He was a horizon full of black clouds rumbling slowly but surely toward her demands. “ and what makes you think that your problems are still just your problems?”

He pulled himself up right and watched her as she worked her way into the clothing, that he wanted to remove all over again.

“No. You are NOT following me.” She placed her hands on her hips and cut a glare at him, then stepped closer to him so she was almost in his face. “Try it and find out. I may not be as big as an ox, like you are, but I can still put you down if I really tried hard enough.” Bigger than her britches, yes? But it was sort of true. If she could produce enough poppies, he would go down like a sack of potatoes. It would probably take a lot, but she was willing to resort to such a drastic and energy draining matter.

She silently thanked the Wicked Witch of the West for the idea. I mean, really now, the green lady had made a whole field of poppies and Dorothy frolicked toward the Emerald City in said field, before dropping to the ground and snoozing. Problem was, the witch had a whole field at her disposal… All Xavia had was a room, and the ability to grow plants out of thin air (and also manipulate plants of course, but that is a mute point).

“This is not important for anyone but myself, and if you think I am just going to sit back and watch you get hurt…” She snapped her mouth shut at the end of that statement, and then amended with, “If you think I am going to let you follow me, then you are daft.” And finally, she raised her voice, “Don’t follow me.”

~~“No. You are NOT following me.” “Try it and find out. I may not be as big as an ox, like you are, but I can still put you down if I really tried hard enough.”

His cold silent stare was that entire he replied with at first. He was simply going to shut his big mouth and do what he wanted, in spite of her tirade, request, command...whatever it was.

~~“This is not important for anyone but myself, and if you think I am just going to sit back and watch you get hurt…” “If you think I am going to let you follow me, then you are daft.” “Don’t follow me.”.

“I destroyed those thugs in the house. I didn’t get hurt. All I want to do is ensure you are safe. If it is important to you it is to me, and you are important to me, and they want to hurt you. so, wrong! again. And you are going to have to stop me if you don’t want me to help you. If you can stop me, then maybe I will trust you to keep your beautiful little figure safe all on your own, but until you put me on my back.” He let a slight smile sneak out of his mouth, even though it was not appropriate even slightly at the moment. “ I wil be following you. And no not like that. I mean yeah, but I’d still follow you.” He took a step forward to follow her.

Maybe, JUST maybe, him following her outside could be an advantage. Maybe. She wanted to just shake him, more than anything! Rattle that brain of his around, knock some sense into him. He was so stubborn! But she was stubborn too.

“So it is as simple as putting you on your back, eh?” she said in a biting tone, catching that smile. She had another thought come to mind that might be less drastic than a field full of poppies. It was a spur of the moment thought really, and she despised it, the thought of using her sexuality to get to him. She was not that kind of girl at all, she didn’t lead people on (on purpose), and if she did, she felt bad. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

She also knew it may backfire. If she started kissing him again, there may be no turning back because she wanted him, every part of him. Body, mind, and soul. Gah, where did that come from. Xavia shook the thought from her head and purposefully dropped her eyes to his lips and pretended… or not… maybe… to get a dazed look on her face. She licked her own lips slowly and her voice grew husky, “Let’s not quarrel anymore.” Sighing, as much for affect as it was to release a shaky breath, she lifted her hands and started to run her fingers over his chest.

~~"So it is as simple as putting you on your back, eh?”

"yup, you beat me and I won]t have to worry about you out there. I still will, but I won't have to."

Dryad played Jupiter like the keys on her piano, this time however, instead of putting Dryad below him, he figured it might help he not to be surrounded by all too well muscled red flesh. He picked her up and the lay back on the bed her small frame draped across his. " agreed" he replied with every tone saying a quarrel wasn't what he wanted right then. He lay back and waited for her to make a move. Agressive aggressive was his style, but he'd settle for passive aggressive if she went with it.

Ahh, getting Jupiter on his back was easier than she thought it would be. All she needed was a little bit of sexiness and it went a long way with him. Funny how that works out with two “innocents.” Once he had them on the bed and he was below her, she kissed him a few more times and then sat up, straddling his hips and grazing her fingers along his bare chest.

She gnawed on her lip a little, looking down at him with true desire, even though her intent was to buy herself a head start. Her fingers grazed his lips and she made an appropriate sound in the back of her throat before bending down to kiss him again, once or twice. “Mmm, stay there. I will be right back, my darling.” And she had meant the darling part. She shifted off of him then, and moved to get the shreds of the dress he had torn off of her, and ripped a wide strip into a makeshift blindfold.

When that was done, she came back over to him and showed him the blindfold, licking her lips accordingly, and then if he let her, she would tie it around his head and block his vision of her. Then she would lean down and whisper in his ear how she wanted to put something more comfortable on. How cliché, and how very kinky.

She would then let him sit there for a moment and move around as if pulling off her clothes, and when he least expects, she would then proceed with a bunch of vines quickly coiling around his body to hold him down temporarily. If all this was successful, she would lean down and whisper, “Sorry, Jupiter, but I can’t let you follow me…” She would stay long enough to be sure the vines were going to hold.

Heavy breath came from the red beast beneath her. Her knees not even reaching the bed as she sat atop of him. his hands came up to her hips, insuring she wouldn’t storm off at a good part this time.

~~“Mmm, stay there. I will be right back, my darling.”


He let out an anticipative sigh. He refused to say anything, she seemed to take his words and tie them into knots, if he didn’t say anything he couldn’t say anything to ruin whatever wonderful thing was going on. He nodded, his eyes shone with an energy that promised a good time.

His lifted as if light as a feather holding there and submitting to her surprise fantasy, he would work with her need for being in control; he’d have to break her of the habit at some point though. It wasn’t that he minded it just wasn’t in his nature to submit.

A soft rumble escaped his lips as the vines tightened and lifted his hands above his head and wrapped about his ankles and even wound around his tail.

~~ “Sorry, Jupiter, but I can’t let you follow me…”


“…are you serious?” disappointment rang in his voice and then mischief quickly took over. “You will pay for this when I catch up with you. I am tying you up when I catch you, and I won’t be running away when I do so.” A chuckle sounded in his voice and He started to flex against the vines as one cracked another replaced it and so the clock was ticking.

“Maybe so, but it won’t be for awhile. You understand, right? Please understand…” He would be able to hear the regret in her voice for having to resort to this measure, but she really couldn’t let him follow her. She moved closer to him long enough to give him a soft, loving sort of kiss on the mouth, and then whispered, “Thank you for all that you have done, and I will miss you so.” She touched his face gently, and then pulled away. “This isn’t goodbye… I will see you again, my darling.” Her voice, by that point, sounded a little emotional. After all, he had saved her life, he’d taken care of her when she was sick, he’d been her pillar of strength for days, and she had quickly grown attached to him. She dared not label it as love yet, they hardly knew one another, but how could it not be when the sparks and the passions were so intense between the two of them?

She couldn’t afford any more procrastination time, so she was stuck having to leave her belongings behind. Xavia left him there on the bed, tangled up in vines that were weakening by the moment. The only traces of her presence aside from her belongings, was the smell of lingering flora, mixed with bath soap and shampoo. She left her clothes, pieces of paper with notes written on them that may give him clues as to who she really was and who might be after her, basically journal entries written on stained or crumpled pieces of paper that were tucked away in the pockets and folds of her clothing, so he would pretty much have to search her stuff if he wanted to know badly enough...

The vines started to weaken the further she got away from the Sanctuary, turning brown and dying as her energy wasn’t there to support their life force since they weren’t sprouted out of dirt. Within 15 minutes of her leaving, Jupiter would be free to try and follow her.

Once she was off the grounds of the Sanctuary, she made the trek back into the heart of NYC, where other events took place and lead up to a plane ride to Romania. He would find her, eventually, maybe months later, maybe a year later, but not that day.

~~“Maybe so, but it won’t be for awhile. You understand, right? Please understand…”

He grinned at thought to burst from the Vines right then and there. tear the rest of that dress up...and beg for permission...she'd reduced him to wanting to beg. but as the vines burst, releasing a similar smell to that of freshly cut grass, but even as they burst they were replaced with more. it was frustrating to say the least.

~~“Thank you for all that you have done, and I will miss you so.”

"I'll miss you too, you'd better run fast, once I catch you, I'm not letting go again so easily."

~~“This isn’t goodbye… I will see you again, my darling.”

"You're damn right its not."

A rumble emerged from his throat as he tore at the vines,even as she left the room,his arms struggled with a renewed fervor, only letting up for a moment to allow her to kiss him properly before she left. as the roots weakened, they snapped and flew apart.She had at least six minutes on him. He would have broke free much much earlier but they kept building up and regrowing it was trouble some to say the least. He had to respect her that she restrained him at all. He called the front desk and spoke to Lisa finding out which way she ran when she exited the golden doors. As he had hoped it was toward the old house. He ran to the Vehicle bay and hoped on one of his favorite machines, A motorcycle by Ferrari He only stopped to put a bright red helmet on his head and then hoped on the bike and did a circle around the building on the side walk. if she hadn't the sense to get in a cab then he would make up the six minutes in no time. if she did, well it wasn't like it was hard to loose one's self in new york.
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(My following posts will fill in the in between of this post,Dryad's posts will take place after the conclusion of my posts, so in this post you are seeing the start of a journey and the end of a journey in one post.)
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Jupiert came back with his helmet still on, when it left it was shiny and new, but now it looked like it had been threw a war, and by most rights it had. Several spots on his chest slowly dribbled blood. His chase was ll for nothing and so he was back a square one and on a much much colder trail. he was six minutes behind when he left and now! now he would have to find some juicy chunk of information before he'd be able to find her. He took off his boots by the door. and then went strait to the shower, hoping he didn't get too much dirt or blood on anything. after ten minutes of scrubbing and getting clean he threw on a pair of baggy cotton pajama paints he hid under the towels, if he just so happened to stay the night. Fresh and clean he sighed at the dead and abused foilage, it was the first to go, a thorough vacuum later and he was ready to start his invading of the wood nymph's privacy.

He found every scribbled on piece of paper and put it in a stack, keeping papers that were together together. and he started at where any sensible person would. the top of the stack. his big read fingers pinched a piece of parchment and for a moment he simply admired the curve of her penmanship.

(Written on a bent piece of drawing paper with a botched attempt at a cat. Probably the work of a kid.)

Second Journal Entry

May 1, 2009

Sometimes I do not know how I made it through all of this hell. One day, I was at home with momma and poppa, the next day they took me away again. I will never be able to forget the way they killed so many people to get to me the first time, how many people must be hurt to find me?

The man who took me, died. A young man with lots of animals came and rescued me, took me to a place with an elderly man they called “Doc-Professor.” He took care of me, and so did a few other people. I could not stay and risk watching them get killed. I left.

I am lucky I found this house.

Now I look for answers, knowing that they won’t hurt those young people at the place I was. But I just want to go home.

All I have is a stupid, fuzzy picture in my head of an old man. Something weird about his eyes that make me think he is not just a dream. There is a cataract on one side, and the other eye is pure yellow like a cat or a snake. They often haunt me.

But who is he? Why did he have my friends killed when I was a kid? Why didn’t he just kidnap me and leave the rest of them alone if he wanted me so bad? I want to know but the search keeps hitting dead ends.

He was going to head to the house first but he had another place to check first, The copse of trees that he had first met her at. He didn’t of course realize that one, she didn’t have money for a cab and two, unless the cabbie was hell on four wheels, he would have beaten her to either place. The red motor cycle moved threw New York like a hot knife through a kidnapper’s throat. He was in central park on the side walks in moment’s sending cyclists and people walking their dogs diving off the path. The only time he left the side walk was for strollers and even then, it was mostly due to the fact that the toddlers had the potential to be mutants. He flew over a bridge and a river and then under a decorative arch. And then he was there. “Dryad! If you are here I want a word with you!” he waited for a moment and then spun the motorcycle around and sought the house like a heat seeking missile to a wildfire.

In what seemed like seconds, he weaved through traffic and was at the abandoned two story house that Dryad made her own. A car waited out side, large golden rims decorated the low rider. And a satisfied scowl settled on his face. He got of the bike and entered the front door, six thugs looked up at once, at least two took a step back.

One of them opened their mouth to says something foul but he was already on them. The closest hoodlum had the bone just above his knees cracked and his legs took the shape of twin check marks, the rest of him thrashed about wildly and he was screaming something. Jupiter didn’t take the time to care, he only needed one of them…for a little while.

A black baseball bat was swinging toward his head, his large red paw caught it and the man jerked to a stop. With out stopping he pushed forward and the butt end of the baseball bat found the man’s skull one, two, three, four times. And his fingers finally let go. With a flick of his wrist the bat spun around, and the handle was in his hand. A broad arc and three men fell to the ground, necks snapped and the wall was red, in three splashes like a modern artist decided to decorate. And that was five.

The sixth man was running but all the exits were with in Jupiters reach and so he was running toward him. Jupiter shifted the bat into both hands and thrust it against the mans chest. He walked him toward the wall. the man babbled, begged. “shut up.” Jupiter growled. The man was silent. He swallowed hard.

“where is your boss? I want an address and how many to expect when I get their. You people are going to leave her alone. Tell me and you’ll be able to walk away from this.”

“56th and Main apt 238B. About fifteen guys there, ten more next door, I don’t know how many hos. They’ll have guns, please don’t kill me.”

“hey, I am an honest guy, you’ll be able to walk away from this place, so long as you wake up.” the bat rolled from his chest to his throat and pressed down and kept going, at first he was just suffocating, then his throat collapsed all together. The head lolled to the side and finally Jupiter let the body fall to the ground. He walked out to the road and the baseball bat repeated the destructive process all over the shiny car. When he was finally done he climbed onto the motorcycle and a voice caught his attention, his head whipped to a porch across the street and elderly woman was clapping…. “Bless ya baby! You show them good for nothing hoods what for!”

He nodded. He might even come clean up this area. At the very least there was about to be one group less bothering this neighborhood.

Journal # 3 – Written on the back of a used furniture ad.

May 28, 2009

I am homesick, but I can’t go back home and put my momma and poppa in danger. I miss the greenhouse and all of my babies, but I know my poppa didn’t stop business just for me. It makes me sad to think that way, but he was always the strong and proud one.

I went another direction today, I went to Central Park for the first time, and I sat among the late spring blooms, wondering what to do. Every elderly gentleman that caught my eye made me scared for a moment that I had come face to face with my tormentor, and every younger muscle man freaked me out too.

Then I went to the big library and pored over the archives of the newspapers. One after another. I did come across an article about my family and me, but even that did not bring too many answers. This is getting so frustrating.

He considered leaving a note for dryad to let her know he was looking but , the six bodies and the smashed car said he was out and protecting her preemptively. Again, Jupiter sped from the scene heading in the general direction, ignoring stoplights traffic and anything else that got in his way. He drove up to the door of the new apartments and picked up the motorcycle placing on his shoulder to carry through the building. Where most would have had to buzz someone who lived there to get into the building Jupiter simply kicked the door once making it crash inward and breaking the hinges as the door fell off the frame from going the wrong way. He paced over to a bulletin board that mapped out the apartments. a pair of drugged up looking teens tried to make them selves one with the opposite wall to stunned to even flee for their lives. Jupiter walked as lightly as he could up the stair way and the three floors. Setting his expensive motorcycle a few doors down from the apartment he wanted.

He stretched a little and took a couple practice swings with his black bat and then at a jogging pace ran threw the door and immediately started swinging, toxic smoke whooshed out the door and screams filled the air. His bat whistled through the air and as soon as it connected with one person he would step and swing tearing into the next, like clockwork the thugs were falling like Oreos to a sugar hungry child. Guns were being left on tables in favor of trying to get to the fire escape instead. Only two of the sixteen or so people didn’t have a baseball bat sized crater somewhere in there body. The black bat was starting to shine with a sticky red glint. Jupiter walked to the window and looked down to watch the pair of skanks go down the fire escape as fast as they could. He leaned out the window and placed a firm hand one one of the rails, he whipped his wrist and the metal tore from break, like dusting out a run he sent the two females falling into new york traffic along with plants, pants and other laundry out to dry. He surveyed the room for a moment and then looked across the hall, juding from the order, that would mean that the next apartment would be to the left.

He rose a fist and knocked a hole through the wall, stepping into another room that smelt of illegal substances. The air there was thick enough that it would cause probably him to fail a drug test. But that didn’t stem his rage or distract him much. a hand raised a gun and the bat was fly across the room to smash in to the one holding it. But with the time it took to swing his arm the bat was replaced with one of the gangsters in the room. He swung the large man into a pair of other baggy jean wearing hoods. The sound of flesh meeting flesh in a bone cracking manner was sickening. Or would have been to most, Jupiter was amused. He swung the now leap and silent man through the air again, this time screaming. “Where?” smash. “is?” Crash “ your?” thud. “boss?” t he dropped the dripping mess that was hanging from his hand onto the already stained carpet. There was about six men and two women left, five of which were huddled in a corner. One however set calmly on a couch with his arm around a woman.

The man cocked his head to the side. “What brings the big red menace to my home? You’re breaking my pets. I don’t like it.” Jupiter grabbed a large bottle of some dark alcohol off the counter He opened it took a swig and then grabbed a box of matches as well.

“Be cool man, lets talk,” The calm man on the couch requested. Jupiter dropped the lit match into the rum and threw the flaming bottle at the corner of the soon screaming group cowering in the corner. The bodies ran about the room spreading the flame. The woman on the couch look amused and whispered to the man. “I like him. lets keep him, please.”

The male shook his head. “ if he didn’t belong to the order perhaps, but they wouldn’t let us keep him.” the three stared at each other for a moment. As if there weren’t five people on fire rolling around trying to put them selves out and an additional thirty other bodies strewn about.


“So! Are we going to come to some sort of agreement or do we need to fight? Hmmm big guy?” the male said in a slightly mocking tone.

May 31, 2009(Written on a piece of printer paper “borrowed” from the library, front and back, in compact handwriting.)

The streets are so noisy sometimes, outside this old house, yet here is where I find peace. I feel bad that I steal sometimes to survive, clothes off of lines strung between the tall buildings, and the very house I “squat” in, with it’s boarded up windows and sagging exterior. I find solace in the old piano that stands as a relic from days gone by, broken and out of key, just like me.

But the piano can only sit there in neglect, while I can get up and move around.

I use the piano as a metaphor for myself, sometimes. I am like it in many ways, parts of me are broken, parts of me are worn down and scratched up, yet I still stand to face the next person who comes along and tell my story.

During the day, I sometimes wait here in the silence, broken only by the muffled sound of traffic and cursing, wondering what I should do, or where I should go. It is lonely, and frightening at the same time to think that I might never get to go back home, or maybe even go to my homeland to see what I haven’t seen since I was a little girl.

During the night, I am restless and tend to stay awake, pacing the dusty corridors, or I am out in the streets looking for my next meal. If I am lucky enough to sleep, it is never peaceful. The nightmares are never the same, but yet they are. If I am not running, I am strapped down. If I do not feel the dream wind on my face as I run, I feel fear for the blurry images that haunt me. Sometimes I see my high school sweetheart reaching for me, just before the hole appears in his forehead where he was shot.

The most disturbing dream is reliving the nightmare of watching mass murder of innocent young people, my friends as they fall one by one by the hands of faceless men, just before they grabbed me and took me away and I forgot everything else from that point.

I try hard to let the dreams finish, but something always wakes me up. Maybe I am just too afraid of the truth to let it come to me.

Because of these dreams, most of which mean something, I just know it, I have been searching through newspaper archives, books, anything that might possibly bring me the answers I need so badly. I can’t ask a newspaper why the bad men chose to take me, or what they want from me, but maybe it can tell me who someone is and what they are all about.

Why DID they take me? What made me so special that they had to kill many people to get to me, why did they let me go and then come get me again ten years later? Who are these people, what do they want? Is it some cruel joke because I hated the same kind of beings that I am now? Why do I see an old man with a needle full of green liquid, but his face is always blurred? Who am I?
Argh.

(There is a drawing of a faceless head above some random scribbles that say she was distracted by her thoughts.)

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I want to go back home and pretend this nightmare never happened.