* starts muttering He's not dead, he's not dead while rocking back and forth*
HES NOT DEAD!!!
Cai ur writing is amazing, i cried *Sniffle*
He cannot b dead!!!!!
EPILOGUE NOW!!!!
:shock: SEE? I TOLD you that people would cwy! now who's the psychic? uh-huh! uh-huh! :watsup:
but cai :thud: FINALLY someone who thinks it's ok to wear runners with an evening gown we could start a trend! i'll do victoria, you do NSW, gweer can do perth and laur can do :mellow: the woods... the monkeys in black dresses and runners :lol: it makes sense to me!
but I still love how everyone's hanging onto the possiblity of vaughn being alive.. and my only response to that is:
He doesn't like peas
*smiles mysteriously*
^_^ loved the chapter Cai and you know what? your writing has inspired me to write a total different way for one of my upcoming ficcies (if it ever gets written which it most probably won't :lol
Aw... Thanks everyone! I'm kinda gonna miss this...
blue_bird said:
:heh: when you said that they, s/v, will be together, technically speaking... did you mean to say that they will be together, only as corpses? coz you killed vaughn, right? or did you not? you only said that it was too late. hmmm... did she really kill him? was he in fact dead? was he still lying in the bathroom floor, lifeless? if she did remember everything, what did she do with the body, if there was a body found... anyway... when she was by the beach, i thought that she was going to kill herself. with all the guilt, remorse and all negative emotions she has within herself, plus the fact that she has killed/shot the man she has loved, loves, i really thought that she will kill herself. more like romeo and juliet! teehee! thats my explanation of technically speaking...
i love this paragraph. how you have managed to describe how she run back towards the hotel, running speedily, her feet "almost weightless on concrete" and yet her conscience is being battered down with tremendous guilt and regret. WOW. you gotta love that.
its like finding and knowing the inevitable. but... vaughn... dead... i just cant believe it. i wont believe it. i refuse to believe that he's dead!
out of control. its like that pilot episode where she saw danny by the tub.
mental picture: perfect.
sweetie, i am really looking forward to the epilogue!!! and if by some chance, you will resurrect the dead, fine by me! :lol: hehe! anyway, the whole update, its amazing sweetie. I most especially love how you write about her giving up. WHITE FLAG. it reminded me of Dido's song though. hehe. the shore. the waves. the sand. you write brilliant stuff. i am really looking forward to the new fic you have up your sleeves. and this fic, like you said is 'unplanned'? it surely didnt look like one. coz how you wrote the whole story, it seems very well thought of. it only proves that you are a great writer sweetie! please keep me posted to your future stories!
you know like how steaks are cooked... rare, medium rare/well, well done. WELL DONE dear! :lol: okay, i have babbled enough. hehehe! thank you for this sweetie!
1) Both of them won't be as corpses. Sort of... Lol you'll get it once I write the epilogue
2) Yes, she really did kill him.
3) Yes, he really is dead :lol:
Hehe, anyway, thank you soooo much for your awesome review, Gee Gee! Although I don't quite get the steak bit...
74Aliaschickita47 said:
HE DIED!!! Party!!!!! ! lol. I'm not like that. But come on. She shot him! What do you expect?? Him to live forever??? Seriously! Great chapter!!!! I loved it!!!!! Thank you for my PM from you!!!
-Nadia :beret: irate2:
GOOD GIRL!
BAD GIRL! been spending too much time around sheep gweer?
:shock: SEE? I TOLD you that people would cwy! now who's the psychic? uh-huh! uh-huh! :watsup:
but cai :thud: FINALLY someone who thinks it's ok to wear runners with an evening gown we could start a trend! i'll do victoria, you do NSW, gweer can do perth and laur can do :mellow: the woods... the monkeys in black dresses and runners :lol: it makes sense to me!
but I still love how everyone's hanging onto the possiblity of vaughn being alive.. and my only response to that is:
He doesn't like peas
*smiles mysteriously*
^_^ loved the chapter Cai and you know what? your writing has inspired me to write a total different way for one of my upcoming ficcies (if it ever gets written which it most probably won't :lol
:hi: This is short, but it reaches a certain extent where I can't continue to ramble on...
And last chapter, dudeys! Epilogue will come once I'm done writing it
short is good.....as long as its a chappie im happy! (hey that rhymes! sorry im :asleep
last chappie......only an epilogue to go...... but i this!
ok ok ok reviewing now. i warn you i'm replying as i read. so my reactions might be weird....erm....weirder than usual!
Chapter Sixteen
SIXTEEN??? ru sure???? i swear its only been like 4!
"I need to get off this plane."
RUN GIRL! RUN!!!! great way to start off the chappie and refresh our memories.
Her trainers are an oddity paired with her black evening gown. Nameless, faceless strangers stare at the odd sight, dress billowing freely in her wake. The beautiful woman in the equally beautiful dress, but it's the shoes that don’t quite hold up the persona. In her haste, she realises now with appreciation, that bizarre as she appeared, the trainers had come in handy with the distance she had to run back to the hotel room.
ok, well....Nameless, faceless.... i dunno, i just loved this! "dres billowing freely in her wake" is beautiful. i dunno how to explain it...u just write so well yet it seems to flow naturally. any normal person would write "ppl stared at her black dress and shoes weirdly as she left" but u....i dunno, ur just write every sentence with a sense of precision.
the shoes that don’t quite hold up the persona just love the reference to her "persona" reminding us that she IS julia Thorne.
Feet pounding, almost weightless on concrete, her conscience is an entirely different matter. She is weighed down by her guilt, regret perched haughtily atop, and she is almost set to crumble with the weight of it. Almost, but not quite. What holds her together is blind belief, a glue too insipid to hold her together, but adhere it must until she reaches the hotel.
Cursing as she fumbles with the keys, she trembles with anxiety. She doesn’t know what to expect when she swings open the door, catapulting herself into the hotel room, tripping over the blanket on the floor in the process. Doesn't know what she'll find behind closed doors, doesn't know if she wants to find what she will.
Feet pounding, almost weightless .... *claps* beautiful! great way you compare her and her conscience and create this dire contrast.
regret perched haughtily atop you have all the way thru had this sense taht her emotions taunt and mock her. u kinda, personify them and i love it!
a glue too insipid to hold her together, but adhere it must until she reaches the hotel. great metaphor. and great word choice again. "insipid", "adhere" as i said last chappie, really powerful words liek these help add to the tone of it and intensify it in a way.
anxiety, catapulting great word choice again. sorry im repeating myself but meh. anxiety - kinda, i dunno its just a great word. catapulting - gives you a visual in a way, and with it you get her sense of anxiety, that she "catapulting" her way into the room...shes so hurried that shjes out of control in a way. get me?
Doesn't know what ........ doesn't know if ...... love the repetition and the sense of hesitation you give it. it also gives the audience a sense of fear and also the NEEd to know whats next.
She pauses unexpectedly, making no attempt to get up off the floor. Her mind is numb, body, ice, as she slowly lifts herself up off the floor.
A matter of seconds sees her breathless in the bathroom, colliding headfirst with what will see her lose all control. Throwing her inhibitions into the wind, nothing else matters any more.
It's too late.
Her mind is numb, body, ice, ... wow. imagery but also something more. for julia thorne of all ppl to become even more numb suggests that this is even more intense than we thought.
colliding headfirst ....l i think i just mianly loved the sense of chaos surrounding this... "colliding" does not suggest it was planned. its beacoming less and less, well...Julia.
It's too late. :thud: three words with soooooo mcuh power. love the way it all comes down to this one short sentence. Blunt and to the point, it confirms all our greatest fears.
~~~
Roaming the streets, she walks it off. She allows for it to consume her whole; for the night to swallow her whole, and she mutters neither contempt nor disdain as she dissolves into her surroundings.
Primed to do its educating, the pain is dizzying as she stumbles onwards. Her mind barely able to grasp the reality of her situation, she blindly fumbles her way down the steps, to where sand meets her toes and offers her its warmth. Gladly, she takes it, a chaotic mess in spite of the serenity of the water.
mutters neither contempt nor disdain um, again i guess i just highlighted this cos its got this great sense of her confusoin...shes not sure what to feel, actually, HOW to feel. this whole paragraph is full of chaos and i think thats great. Julia has lived a life of precision and order yet now its well...upside down.
Primed to do its educating... "Primed"?? wow word. a very wow word. kinda like its it's job to educate. and just love the way that this one thing is going to teach her the lesson of her life. i think what i lvoe more is the fact it WILL actually educate her, well thats what is sugested.
a chaotic mess in spite of the serenity of the water. again the choas it highlights is great. and the contrast between the two ideas is awesome!
Her feet drag with the well-worn weight of guilt, thick and heavy through sand as she discards her shoes further up the beach. She continues downward till she reaches the shoreline, collapsing onto her knees in defeat.
It is her way of throwing up the white flag, her way of telling the world she gives up, as the water laps at her legs. It is gentle; almost soothing against her skin that has been harshly scratched against the scathing surface of the grains of sand. They, in turn, are corrosive; an onslaught of reminders gnawing at her conscience, but it's the water that moulds itself around her, cool in time of strife, offering her refuge.
well-worn weight of guilt, thick and heavy intense imagery...that this guilt is almost, i guess, taking over her. "thick and heavy" simple words but ones which bring so much to the sentence.
defeat. again simple word but i guess its this idea that Julia is feeling defeated that gives it more meaning. throwing up the white flag highlighted the same colour cos its the same thing. since when would Julia give up? act defeated? it makes u go "whoah, shes guilty" and u get me? shes just. i dunno. but i love the wording of this "throwing up the white flag" its great! sorry...im really tired his isnt making much sense! :blush2:
are corrosive....onslaught....gnawing at her conscience.....cool in time of strife, offering her refuge ok just read these little bits here. forget that they're urs and read them. wow huh??? *cai nods head* good. this is a perfect example of the way u somehow determine a balance in ur phrases. they're packed with awesome stuff yet they dont seem overly....full of felgercarb, for lack of better words. and just from reading those highlihgted words....dont u feel this rush of power? great wording cai cai! really good. read it again, just the bit at the begincement of this blabbing stuff im writing now. read it? ok good. i want u to appreciate what i do in ur writing.
Made to be broken, she's a wreck by the shoreline of the water, and it is all she can manage as she whispers into the dark, asking him for forgiveness. Even in that short time as Julia, he had managed to latch onto her skin, a bloodthirsty leech if you must, sucking and feeding on her blood.
And now, it's too late. It's too late to go back, to change things, to not allow for herself to become so attached and dependant, and she curses herself for being so damn stupid for not realising sooner.
because sooner had come too late[/grey].
wreck by the shoreline of the water well this can hav several meanings...or uses if u will. imagery, of her as a "wreck" i dunno it so strong, i can just see her falling apart, broken lying on the sand. also metaphor? like a shipwreck...unable to be helped stranded and washed up in the uknown...shes kinda in the "unknown" shes got this guilt she cant handle.
...bloodthirsty leech... that was just too good not to highlight. love the leech imagery, its a little wow! lol but its really good and i love this idea that he was sucking her "blood" outta her.
grey: well it was a great way to finich all the repitition and stuff u used in the previous para...."too late" "too late" it gives it a rhythm and adds to her confusion and chaotic thoughts. plus u know how i find it really effective to end with short sentences.
She had killed Michael Vaughn, and there was no going back.
i dont need to highlight that cos well u just put into words what we'd all been thinkin but not been able to say. like the "it's too late" you said what needed to be said without padding it out. and its really effective. blunt and kidna like reality hits u in the face.
~~~
"I quit."
The man she has seen to be her Covenant superior is startled to say the least, as his face registers the faintest difference in emotion. Usually well kept and maintained, the shock is evident on his face and she is almost amused by his small letdown.
"I beg your pardon Julia?" The distinctly British voice reverberates on the walls, amplifying his disbelief as he stares disbelieving back at her.
She offers no condolences, no emotion or explanation, as she repeats her resignation.
"I quit," she states quite simply, before reaching over to surrender her clearance to Covenant headquarters.
This is her final act of closure; for she has seen too much, felt too much, for she has reached the very extremity and she wants out.
This was her way out.
"I quit." like i said before, its just sometimes a better way of adding another element to the writing. its awesome and intense yet so simple. this kidna in a way makes us go "huh" but also "woohoo" and "wow" :mixed: its crazy!
distinctly British voice sark???? ooooo simon??? is it someone we know???
.....seen too much, felt too much,...again repitition is ur friend! lol im sperious! adds this intensity (i know i know im repeating myself....give me a bweak ive been sitting here for over an hour reviewing!) to it and also, i dunno i just love this sentence!
and then the final short sentence "this is her way out" awesome was to finish. way out of this life? way out of her guilt? no wait...guilt will always be there. anyhoo its great!
cai cai that was beautiful! and im sowy this review doesnt do it justice!
looks at finger turnin blue... my fwingers are all cold and numb just like julias heart! aranoid: uh oh....thats not good.
anthoo great great great great great update! im so sad it was the last chapie, bwing on the epilogue! thats all i can say! BWING IT ON BABY!
this was so sad! *sniffles*
*ignoring the fact u killed Vaughn* whispers: but if u HAD to kill Vaughn, it was a great way of doing it!
ok i shoudl WEALLY go do my assignments now. im gonna fail and blame u! lol cos the teacher will really buy that one.
anyhoo :bye:
great jobbie again, i hope somewhere in this review SOMETHING is useful!
I don't know how you do it Wach... How can you sit there for so long to just review?! I feel kinda guilty... Y'know, you really don't have to do all this, acos I don't wanna make you fail all your assignments!
But thank you anyways... Cos it weally means alot to me, and it makes writing all worth it, and so much more too, but I'm too excited to say anything more!
Ooh one thing though... The Bwitish dude is just some random, it isn't Sark or Simon or anyone else for that matter
Anyway, I'm gonna try and finish the epilogue tonight! Or tomorrow..
YAY! After almost three months... This fic is finally finished!
I just want to thank all of you guys for sticking with me and reading and reviewing... It means so much to me, and it just makes writing worth it! :group: Anyway, cutting the thank you speech short for once!
NOTE: Keep in mind that Vaughn was the only one that knew Sydney was alive, because they were planning to run away together...
Epilogue
<span style='font-size:8pt;line-height:100%'>Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
- Sonnet 18, Shakespeare</span>
Sydney Bristow stands alone.
She is unaccompanied, lost in the whisperings of a gentle zephyr. It whisks her away with it, breeze gentle in its contiguity, but willing as she is, she is unable to fully let go, doesn't allow herself to, her inhibitions keeping her fenced in.
She steps forward. Progression slow and mesmerising, her feet lead her instinctively. It is a path so well worn and recited, almost a dance as she steps around blocks of stone, and she loses herself in the rhythmic symphony.
Oblivious to the grass that will stain her jeans, she drops to her knees in the dewy turf, solemn as her arm outstretches to place upon damp ground a single white rose. She doesn't speak at first; eyes closed in gentle repose. She doesn't know where to start, what to say; she doesn’t know how to say goodbye.
Her fingers outline the cool surface of his gravestone, inscriptions hollow under her fingertips as she tenderly traces the contours. It is all she can manage as she drops her façade, allowing for herself one moment of vulnerability. One tear only leads to the next, and she finds herself unable to control the sobs that advance on her, face buried in the crook of her bent elbow.
She has lost count of the number of tears she had cried for him, for them, and all they had lost, all they never had the chance to even have before life so cruelly seized him from her grasp. Spindly fingers are desperate now, craving for any feel of him, any thing that will reassure her that she is okay, reassurance that they are okay, but she finds none. Only finds cold, detached marble, and it offers no condolence for her loss.
Her wounds are as stubborn as she is, refusing to heal as the pain remains as raw as ever before. Once captivated by the life he resonated, she is now bound to their past, a life together he has left behind. His face is haunting, chasing her for what seems perpetual, its reminder incessant as it drives away what sanity she has left.
She is desperate now, kneeling by his grave, whispering for him to let her go. It is all she can take as his presence lingers by her; unable to leave her alone for fear that Michael Vaughn and Sydney Bristow will never be together again.
Yet her eyes wander, and they are.
Michael Vaughn and Sydney Bristow.
Side by side are their gravestones, and side by side they lay, for even death will not to them part. To the world, both Michael and Sydney are dead, a pair too beautiful for the world, so that they do not remain.
Time fails to pass by as she kneels by the grass, whispering her pleas for him to let her go. Amongst her words are incessant apologies, apologies for all her slips and blunders that have brought him to his knees in demise. It is her fault, she apologises. What was beautiful was only destroyed by themselves, and she takes it upon herself to blame.
Distraught, her gaze is lowered to her ring, platinum and shining in its all its glory, and she knows what she has to do. Inanimate as the object is, she had become attached to it, her only remaining link to sanity and what is left of him in the barbarity she lives amongst.
But what they have and had is, even by time, unable to erase, and she does not hesitate to slide the band from her finger. Cautiously, it is placed atop the grass between the two graves, glint almost glaring in her eyes.
Sadly, she smiles, rising to her feet as she momentarily pauses to capture the sight before her. Her murmured whisper goes unheard, carried away by the wind.
I love you.
With two loves lost, and two loves found; she walks away, no longer Sydney Bristow.
:byesad:
PM list:
syd26
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that was amazing and so.. clever... and and and wowzies...
you could knock me down with a feather cause i'm a little shell shocked- although what is so shocking about a Shell? onder: i mean shells are just shells.. they're not shocking they just you know have crabs in... i guess if you didn't like crabs and then put a shell to your ear and a crab pinched your ear That would be shocking but-
ok i digress
Your story was :telepath: there are no words... i just don't get how you do that
Oh MY GOD CAI!!!!
That was amazing!!
U hav no idea how much i am bawling right now!!!
So fantastic, i cant believe he is really dead and that Sydney Bristow is now "dead" with him gone!!
It was just so moving and amazing!
U r truly talented!!
I want a pm for anything u do again!!!
we could start a trend! i'll do victoria, you do NSW, gweer can do perth and laur can do :mellow: the woods... the monkeys in black dresses and runners :lol: it makes sense to me! 
but i 
