This Mortal Coil is completely copyrighted to me, Dyin' Isis, and any form which it exists must have all Disclaimers associated with it. Please do not put my story on any other websites without the author's knowledge. All quotes that do not stem from the author have been credited and are used without permission throughout the story. I have alluded to a quote Lucy Lawless reportedly said upon her opening night in Grease, but did not credit. I will do so at the end of the act it appears. Extra chakram points to those of you who recognize the paraphrase?.
Violence Disclaimer (Or Please DI Don't Hurt Them): Well, this is a Xena: Warrior Princess fanfic. A certain amount of head-bashing should be a given. However, this story does have a level of violence some might feel disturbing. To be fair, if you are under the chronological and/or mature age of 18, it would probably be best for you to read something else.
Emotional Distress Disclaimer (Or Why Did You DO This To Them??): This story is not a fun romp through the countryside. My characters definitely go through the wringer in an ultimately 143-page story. I accept no responsibility for your own personal aftermath. Heck, I'm still recovering.
Naughty Words (or Dude, I Only Counted, like, 2 And They're Not Even That Bad): ): Well, there isn't many, but they do exist. I've always thought comments that do not resort to four-letter words usually hurt the worst, but sometimes?well, no other word will do. So, be warned, there are a few.
Lack of Subtext (Or Where's the Hanky Panky?): For someone who usually reads uber-alt stories, I was surprised this story had sub-sub-subtext-if any-between the two main characters. Oh sure, there is a tenuous connection that strengthens throughout the story, but here it is still a connection. However if the reader, perceives it to be more of an attraction?well, nothing I can do there.
Hey, Where's Your E-mail? (or Dude, We Need To Have Some Words): At the moment, I find that I am just way too close to this story. I'm sorry, but I am not accepting/expecting responses to this story right now. Hopefully, after I have started to write the sequel, Nothing Grows In Moonlight (don't even have an outline yet), maybe I can persuade the webmaster to post my e-mail. Until then, I apologize.
Second-To-Last Thing (or Why Am I Posting This Thing): This is the first work I am actually posting onto the net. I didn't write this story for profit, glory, or even adoring e-mails. I have been watching Xena since the first season, and I just wanted to thank all involved, not only the XenaStaff but the Xenaverse as well, for challenging me in so many ways. Many of the fanfic writers on this site are bards I truly admire and wish to someday achieve a level close to their ability of storytelling. For me, sharing my ideas and imagination is extremely personal, so I can't think of a better way to thank all of you, than by posting the first story I am truly proud of. Just FYI, it was written between January and April of 1999.
Last Thing (or Finally! I've already Hit the Page-Down Button Three Times Already!): Finally, I would like to thank my best friend for trudging through the rough copies and my editor for polishing up the final draft. To their support, I am eternally grateful.
Parting Shot (Or If You Are Reading This, You Might As Well Read The Rest of The Story): If you were lucky enough to find this story-I know there are a lot out there-you know exactly why such stories exist. If you don't-don't be scared! Give it a shot?.heh-heh.
Prelude: Alea Iacta Est
- Gary Oldman, from The Professional."
How can the air hang languidly around this anxious group and yet the heavens be discontent? The stillness of the air, the gathering of the clouds, and a billowing trail of dust wouldn't be remembered this day. And yet, it was exactly what the tall dark figure was waiting for. The rider's chipped malachite eyes absorbed it all. Not a true drive for understanding was the impetus behind these thoughts, but the cataloguing of the surrounding scene?it was incessant. The whispering among the others of these azure eyes, never stilling, never stalling, and always absorbing, had died down. But the whispering inevitably would begin again.
Murmurs of great interest seemed to be focused on the billowing dust below them. Or, to be more exact, what was disturbing it into plumes of dusty clouds. Dark figures awaited from a lofty plateau, surrounded by the sky as it lost its war with the color of those eyes. The clouds continued to gather and darken, but the tall rider seemed to be in harmony with the turbulent landscape. Even when nature seemed to be in discontent with itself, the rider seemed to belong to the complexities of Nature. The looming layer of thick dark nimbostratus clouds was taking over the cerulean blue of the sky, signaling stormy weather ahead.
In a gesture born from years of command, a subtle hand movement became the catalyst for the pounding of hooves. The group turned their horses away from the cliff and the spectacle created by nature embraced them. Like the swirling hands of dye when dropped into water, the ominous predators swarmed down the high plateau. Their dark forms astride pounding steeds disrupted the red clay with blurs of swift movement.