disclaimer: jq:tra belongs to hb. no profit is made from this venture.
archivers: let me know where
author's note: each part of this fic will be a story within itself -- so no cliffhangers -- but a part of the whole. the timeline of the events as I write them would not be in chronological order. The episodes will jump from one time to another, backwards or forwards.
oh, and I took liberties in regards to the appearance of the three fates. I know they're supposed to be three old crones, but in this fic, Clotho has the look of a young teenager, Lachesis has the appearance of a woman in her twenties or thirties while Atropos remains an old woman.
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Acts of Fate by Akane-Rei
It was said that the destiny of mankind is woven in a loom by the three Fates: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. Clotho, the maiden, uses her nimble fingers to decide which course each human thread will take in its lifetime. Lachesis, the mother, decides on the length each human thread will have for its lifetime. And Atropos, the crone, cuts the thread, ending the life of a mortal . . .
Episode 1: Twisted Destinies
"This will be one of my more interesting patterns," said Clotho, looking at the newly entwined threads in her hands.
Lachesis smiled indulgently at the youth as she looked at what Clotho was referring too. Frowning, she said, "Are you sure it's wise to put weave those two together? They're so different!" She looked at the threads again. "Why I remember those! That one, over there," she said pointing to one of the two spun threads, "had the roughest texture while that other one was quite smooth."
Clotho smiled. "They will complement each other," she replied, "And their friendship will last a lifetime."
"Enough chit chat!" exclaimed Atropos from her bent position. "Lachesis, where do you want me to cut this one?"
Lachesis sighed and stared at the new set of thread in her hands. Getting a feel for them, she said, "This one should only be this long," indicating the length with her hands.
Clotho stared at her new pattern in her loom again and said, "Just wait and see."
******************************
"It's time to consider a bodyguard, Dr. Quest," said the President of the United States to the grief-stricken man hunched over in his office.
Dr. Benton Quest stood up from his sitting position and faced the president. His haunted, blood shot eyes stared unseeingly at nothing for a moment when he said, "You know I don't want--"
"I know you don't," he replied. "However, you must also think of your son. We do not want what happened to Rachel to happen to him."
Benton's eyes widened.
"And that's another thing, Benton," he said, "Now, I'm telling you this as a friend. You must snap out of this guilt you carry. It was not your fault."
Benton closed his eyes and tried to supress the memory of a laughing blond-haired woman. Rachel, he thought. Rachel.
Benton looked at his friend and said, "Yes, it is."
They took her because of something they wanted from him. From him, and not anyone else. This whole thing was all his fault. All his damn fault.
Maybe if he gave them what they wanted . . .
Maybe if he didn't invent that thing . . .
Maybe if he could have gotten there sooner . . .
Maybe . . .Maybe . . .Maybe . . .
He can feel an emotion threatening to rise up and overwhelm him.
"Dammit!" he said, interrupting Benton's thoughts. "Jonny needs you to be strong throughout all this."
Jonny, he thought. Jonny, who reminded him so much of Rachel. Jonny, who kept asking for his mother during the last week. Jonny, whose young hand patted his that morning, as if trying to comfort him. Jonny, who lost his mother. Jonny, who was part of Rachel.
Benton took a deep breath and finally muttered, "I'll look into that bodyguard thing. I don't want this thing to happen to Jonny."
"Forget about it," he said. "I already have someone in mind as to who would be the best one for the job."
Benton looked at him gratefully and made a move to leave.
"Benton," he said.
Benton looked back inquiringly.
"He'll be there tomorrow."
He nodded and left.
******************************
The ringing of the doorbell disturbed little Jonny from his perusal of his new pet: a small grasshopper. Wiping his nose with his sleeve, he looked towards the door in his room and scrambled to his feet. The house had been quiet for a while now and not many people come anymore so he was curious to see who was at the door.
Jumping from his bed, he headed towards the stairs and peered down from the banisters. From this angle, he can see his father open the door and greet someone outside.
It was a man. Taller than his dad, in fact.
He looked closer.
It was a really old man. Why all his hair were white.
Jonny strained his ears to hear what his father and the man were saying.
"Dr. Quest?" he heard the man ask.
"Yes," replied his dad.
"My name is Roger Bannon."
*******************************
Yes, Clotho thought. This would set up quite an interesting pattern
She glanced at the surrounding threads which will be affected by this new development.
I'll make it up to you, she thought. You'll see.
Revised September, 2003
archivers: let me know where
author's note: each part of this fic will be a story within itself -- so no cliffhangers -- but a part of the whole. the timeline of the events as I write them would not be in chronological order. The episodes will jump from one time to another, backwards or forwards.
oh, and I took liberties in regards to the appearance of the three fates. I know they're supposed to be three old crones, but in this fic, Clotho has the look of a young teenager, Lachesis has the appearance of a woman in her twenties or thirties while Atropos remains an old woman.
************************************************************************
Acts of Fate by Akane-Rei
It was said that the destiny of mankind is woven in a loom by the three Fates: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. Clotho, the maiden, uses her nimble fingers to decide which course each human thread will take in its lifetime. Lachesis, the mother, decides on the length each human thread will have for its lifetime. And Atropos, the crone, cuts the thread, ending the life of a mortal . . .
Episode 1: Twisted Destinies
"This will be one of my more interesting patterns," said Clotho, looking at the newly entwined threads in her hands.
Lachesis smiled indulgently at the youth as she looked at what Clotho was referring too. Frowning, she said, "Are you sure it's wise to put weave those two together? They're so different!" She looked at the threads again. "Why I remember those! That one, over there," she said pointing to one of the two spun threads, "had the roughest texture while that other one was quite smooth."
Clotho smiled. "They will complement each other," she replied, "And their friendship will last a lifetime."
"Enough chit chat!" exclaimed Atropos from her bent position. "Lachesis, where do you want me to cut this one?"
Lachesis sighed and stared at the new set of thread in her hands. Getting a feel for them, she said, "This one should only be this long," indicating the length with her hands.
Clotho stared at her new pattern in her loom again and said, "Just wait and see."
******************************
"It's time to consider a bodyguard, Dr. Quest," said the President of the United States to the grief-stricken man hunched over in his office.
Dr. Benton Quest stood up from his sitting position and faced the president. His haunted, blood shot eyes stared unseeingly at nothing for a moment when he said, "You know I don't want--"
"I know you don't," he replied. "However, you must also think of your son. We do not want what happened to Rachel to happen to him."
Benton's eyes widened.
"And that's another thing, Benton," he said, "Now, I'm telling you this as a friend. You must snap out of this guilt you carry. It was not your fault."
Benton closed his eyes and tried to supress the memory of a laughing blond-haired woman. Rachel, he thought. Rachel.
Benton looked at his friend and said, "Yes, it is."
They took her because of something they wanted from him. From him, and not anyone else. This whole thing was all his fault. All his damn fault.
Maybe if he gave them what they wanted . . .
Maybe if he didn't invent that thing . . .
Maybe if he could have gotten there sooner . . .
Maybe . . .Maybe . . .Maybe . . .
He can feel an emotion threatening to rise up and overwhelm him.
"Dammit!" he said, interrupting Benton's thoughts. "Jonny needs you to be strong throughout all this."
Jonny, he thought. Jonny, who reminded him so much of Rachel. Jonny, who kept asking for his mother during the last week. Jonny, whose young hand patted his that morning, as if trying to comfort him. Jonny, who lost his mother. Jonny, who was part of Rachel.
Benton took a deep breath and finally muttered, "I'll look into that bodyguard thing. I don't want this thing to happen to Jonny."
"Forget about it," he said. "I already have someone in mind as to who would be the best one for the job."
Benton looked at him gratefully and made a move to leave.
"Benton," he said.
Benton looked back inquiringly.
"He'll be there tomorrow."
He nodded and left.
******************************
The ringing of the doorbell disturbed little Jonny from his perusal of his new pet: a small grasshopper. Wiping his nose with his sleeve, he looked towards the door in his room and scrambled to his feet. The house had been quiet for a while now and not many people come anymore so he was curious to see who was at the door.
Jumping from his bed, he headed towards the stairs and peered down from the banisters. From this angle, he can see his father open the door and greet someone outside.
It was a man. Taller than his dad, in fact.
He looked closer.
It was a really old man. Why all his hair were white.
Jonny strained his ears to hear what his father and the man were saying.
"Dr. Quest?" he heard the man ask.
"Yes," replied his dad.
"My name is Roger Bannon."
*******************************
Yes, Clotho thought. This would set up quite an interesting pattern
She glanced at the surrounding threads which will be affected by this new development.
I'll make it up to you, she thought. You'll see.
Revised September, 2003