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These pages were last updated: November 13, 1998
ŠNovember 1998
URL: ../../STO/hell/hell51.htmlThe following is a bit of alternative fiction based on certain characters from the Xenaverse. It is not meant to infringe on anyone else's rights. If you don't agree or disapprove, please go read something else.
In part of her mind, Izzy threw herself into Xena's protective embrace over and over. But rather than give in to the dangerous impulse, she held tight to the reigns of her thick furred mount and guided it and herself away from temptation. The battle of need for Xena versus need for survival crashed upon her will. The Tartaran, however, shored up her internal resources by reminding herself of the hazards of the journey.
So it was that she found herself grimacing her way past the dark monuments of death that guarded the pathway to the temple. She checked the stones often, marking time internally when Tok began cruising in her daggite defensive mode. The sun was now low enough in the bloody sky that she, with her Tartaran eyes, didn't have to squint to see the multitude of faces anymore. Layer upon layer of obscene toothy grimaces frozen into place, claws folded under wing or scraping against lean solid malevolent bodies threatened to unveil themselves with the dusk.
Or with fear.
That was the problem.
And it was the reason.
Izacon had debated telling her tribesmate. She'd even talked to Penho about the matter, knowing that if necessary, the Tartaran would keep her confidence. The blueskinned woman had been just as firm on the idea that it would be better, in the long run, to keep their silence. Safer. There were too many unknowns about these Elysians and to simply say, "Whatever you do, don't get scared," would have only gotten the ball rolling.
The long run seemed very far away at the moment. Izzy would have told Xena. The warrior, she knew, could have handled the information. It would have been nice to see the eyes of an ally in her lover, but she never got the chance to make her warning. So now she had to deal with the lingering puzzled glances of her warrior.
Show no fear, feel no fear.
Anger was better than fear. So Izacon thought Vicious Bloody Tartaran thoughts, to throw the marbled Guardians off the scent. She thought about the torments of being the mother of a Tartaran child and being unable to say reveal it. (And what she Wanted to do to Dahok in all its bloody gory detail) She thought about her time on Tartarus with Xena and without. She thought about her warrior's mechanations and was still debating on whether to really be angry about that or just...act...angry. But she found it difficult to stay angry with Xena. She'd missed her too much to hold the anger for long.
The warrior just didn't understand.
Izzy would just have to make it clear to her. Somehow.
In the meantime, it was best to stir the pot.
The only problem with acting angry, as a Tartaran, was that it flushed the skin with the same hormones that battle inspired and Izacon walked the emotional tightrope between rage and uncontrollable lust. Better to stay angry...stay angry, but don't ACT on the anger, don't blood anyone, or else they would lose it all... So, while she was mean to her lover, she wasn't cruel. Izacon was aware that she was igniting Xena's own anger and it was good.
At least they were closer to the temple than not, and though Izacon wanted to spur the Strigers into a gallop, she refrained and kept the even quick pace of the confident. If she timed it right (and she sincerely hoped that she had) they would be in sight of the lighted temple before the sun finally closed for the night. Then she would give the command to run for their very lives...lest they become part of the long walk themselves.
Only a very few escaped the Guardian's grasp. A very very few. Izacon shivered in memory of the aeons she spent as stone. And blinked back tears for the lost ones. Some fates were worse than death.
Meanwhile, she would continue maintaining her distance and keeping her thoughts to herself. That would distract her warrior from noticing that, as the shadows deepened, the diamond eyes of death were sparkling sleepily awake.
Katrina's Fan Fiction | Fan Fiction Site | Home Page
These pages were last updated: November 13, 1998
ŠNovember 1998
URL: ../../STO/hell/hell51.html