A/N: So one day I found a feather. . . and then I remembered the pot of ink that we had always had in our desk. “Hm,” I thought. I stole the feather from my sister (not really, but I’m telling a story here!) and cut the end at an angle, so that it would be easier to write. I dipped the feather into the ink pot and began to write. . . and this is what came of it.

I highly doubt that I will continue this story soon, if at all. I thought you might want to know that as well.

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I’m up to no good. . . oh, uh. . . *cough* The only thing I don’t own is Meg Ryan.

~*~*~*~*~

Aqua Ignis

~*~*~*~*~

by The Elfin Child

I never really believed in “love”.  I mean, sure, I loved people, but I never could figure out how people could “fall in love” forever.  All around me, there’s always talk of that thing called love.  You see, I’m an actor, and a pretty famous one at that.  I’m not the greatest actor in the world, but I’m cute and that’s pretty much what secures jobs for me.

So, like I said, I never really believed in love; I was kind of desensitized to it all.  That is, I felt that way until I woke up one morning and realized how I felt about my fellow thespian, Shania Alonde.  I didn’t like her at all at first; she was much too irritating.

I was a little angry that night anyways; the cute blonde I brought to the awards ceremony turned out to be a total. . . well, blonde.  She fawned all over me but couldn’t even hold her own when it came to small talk.  I don’t think anyone else noticed; they’re all too superficial.  All they noticed was the hottie hanging on the adorable young man’s arm.  That’s when I met Shania.  She had short black hair. . . that night, anyway. It took me a long time to find out her natural hair color.  Her eyes shifted around a lot; I think that’s the first thing that made me dislike her.

A director that we’d both worked with introduced us, and I highly doubt that she even considered liking me: she took one look and snorted.  “So this is the pretty boy who thinks he can act.”  Not exactly the typical comment you get from these people.  Now, I know that I am not exactly Harrison Ford, but this was the first time that someone had ever said that sort of thing to my face.  Yes, it was true, but that didn’t make me feel any better about he comment.

“And I suppose you’re the Mary Sue of the age?”  I read somewhere that she had become extremely upset when someone called her a Mary Sue.  Honestly, if I were her, I would have as well.

It seems I chose the right thing to say to provoke her.  Her lips tightened and I could have sworn that her eyes flashed momentarily.  But all that was gone before I had a chance to see it again, and she had a perfect comeback (not that I liked it).  “If I am a Mary Sue, wouldn’t I suddenly fall in love with the gorgeous, egotistical, but brainless, pathetic mole of a man?”  She knew exactly how to hit where it hurt.

I was prevented from snapping back when Derick Coleman, our introducer, laughed.  “You two would be perfect together.”  He must have noticed the look of disgust on both our faces.  “In a working sense, of course.  What did you think I meant?”  He chuckled and turned around to talk to Meg Ryan, one of the only non-superficial people in the room.

While I detested her, Shania seemed to have the same opinion of the people around us as I did.  She was watching the blonde bimbo I’d invited, and wrinkled her nose in distaste.  “She your date?”  I nodded.  “Sad.”  I almost laughed.  Almost.

Instead, I pointed out that she didn’t even have a date.  She seemed loath to laugh as well.  “Well, unlike you, pretty boy, if I don’t find someone worthwhile, I don’t waste my time.”  I had to admit, she was right, not that I was going to admit it.

“So not one met your requirements.  What does that say about your standards?”

“That they get me people who can actually hold an intelligent conversation.”

“Like me?”  I flashed her my killer smile.

She smirked (another annoying little habit she had).  “What makes you intelligent, Requiy?  I’d rather talk to your girlfriend, but it seems that she’s somewhat taken with Professor Lockhart over there.  Ta-ta!”  With that, she left, but I hardly noticed between the extreme irritation at her and my amazement that this girl had just made a reference to a children’s book and had not immediately made an excuse as to why she would know such a thing.  I turned around, more than ready to leave the party, when I spotted my date, who was indeed flirting with a frilly, ignorant buffoon.  I shook my head and walked out the door, leaving Bimbo and Bozo to themselves.  The witch could find her own ride home, and she and “Lockhart” went together so well. . . .

Shania had made herself a rather easy target that night, and I found myself taking out all my frustrations on her memory.  She seemed to be the cause of all my misery, though I doubt she knew anything about it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

So, what do you think? Like it? Hate it? Let me know!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~