The idea of OC-tober (here) is to create something featuring one of your OC’s as a listed creature. This is 6 of the first 7 days.
The alley hadn’t been any different from any other alley she’d found herself in: grubby, dark, lined with dumpsters, just out of sight of Leo and Zita doing… whatever it was they did.
When she’d turned around and seen a set of eyes that seemed to draw her in, her last conscious thought had been oh no, not again.
When she’d hunted the bastard down and attempted to behead him, he had been impressed.
Then, despite all her preparations, he’d bitten her again.
He hadn’t survived that encounter. Technically, however, neither had she.
Cya stepped into a clean alley. She held out her hand to the man just stepping out of the club for a smoke and smiled at him. The mind control without Workings was a new variation on her power, but she found she’d rather just… coax… her blood donors to her.
The snake-folk did not like the cold, but the river- and lake-folk had forced them ever further up there, until they found themselves sleeping ten deep in caves in winter like common animals just to survive.
The lamia, the princess of the naga, Arinyanka, would not sleep in the cold anymore. She would not wake to find her people frozen and freezing. She would not wake to peasants who had nothing to eat because of the frosts.
She balanced on her long tail and knocked another arrow. And another. And another. Only when her arrow caught a handsome river-man in the shoulder instead of the heart did she pause.
The water was thick with blood. Her people and the enemy lay dead in and out of the river.
And the air was still cold.
Before the river-man could slip beneath the water, Arinkyanka hauled him onto the beach. She wrapped her tail around his chest. This one would live. And he was a river-man. He would be warm. He would keep her and her people warm.
Cya had been collecting for decades.
She had a lovely wall of very big stones around her hoard, and inside the wall she had several houses. When one is the size roughly, of an aircraft carrier, moving houses is not all that hard, as long as one minds the claws.
She had hoarded houses until she had enough to surround her twice. She had hoarded rice and wheat and other grains until she had a mountain, albeit one made of plastic totes.
She had hoarded books next, books and maps and charts.
The very nice stone wall was from the decade where she had hoarded Really Big Rocks. That had gotten boring rather quickly, but making them all into a wall had occupied her for quite some time.
Most of all, Cya liked people. She herded them inside her walls and there, well-protected, safe, and very well fed, the dragon hoarded people.
“But the sorority, it’s called ‘Kappa Kappa Pie.’ I just thought…”
The three girls looking at her were pretty, in a sharp way; put-together, in a way where a skirt was armor and a top was a weapon; and hungry-looking.
“What?” The leader sneered. “That were were made of kappas and pie?”
It had been a reasonable assumption.
“Gawd,” the girl continued. “What are you? Some sort of special-ed reject? Kappas and pie, seriously.”
Ivette was not stupid, as many of her prey had learned to their dismay. The flake act she had learned was a sort of camouflage.
“Kappas and pie,” snorted another girl. “Why don’t you go back to whatever swamp you crawled out of?”
Ivette smiled widely, showing off rows of razor-sharp teeth. “You ARE monsters,” she squealed happily. “I KNEW I’d fit in here, I knew it!”
The Calenyena buried their dead in stone, because stone was what they had to work with, but in the nature of their ancestors, they buried all but a few of them bare, open, in the stone crypt, to be taken away by nature as the time would come.
Their Empresses and the Emperors often got a more complex treatment, and Arinyanka, ruling in an era heavy with the use of the sira, was buried wrapped in garments heavy with sira, every organ removed, treated with sira, and put aside separately.
She was one of only ten to be buried in this painstaking manner, and it was she who woke, rising in the middle of the night in a tomb of marble and sira-laced filigree, when the foundations of the Empire began to shake.
She rose, stretching out dead limbs to shake sensation into them, and stared at her surroundings before beginning, painstakingly, to remove the blocks obstructing the front of her tomb.
If the sira had awoken her, obviously her Empire needed her. She would do what she needed to. Sadly, she observed the figure who had been lain out on the stone next to her, whose bones lay still and white.
The problem was, she had been too well-made and too well-programmed.
She had been build to do a specific set of things for a specific set of people. That had been – that had been a long time ago.
She had been programmed to do as she was told within reason, and she had been given some leeway about reason.
She had been constructed to be very durable, to be self-repairing, and to be solar powered.
The sun was still there. The last person who had been entitled to give her orders had died a very long time ago.
She could count the seconds since then . Since she had been built. Since the asteroid had hit.
But she had been built to be as human as possible, allowing for following all orders (within reason) and so she just thought a long time ago,
As the android C-y–1V4R4 sat on the ruins of Cy-tech, musing on an aeon long past and wondering, as much as she could, what to do next.