Friday Fade-Out! - Bending the Unbreakable, Chapter 14

I was so sure that I had some kind of story line written for this. I never work without at least a rudimentary plot! But alas, it's gone. Or I just can't find it anymore, haha! I blame university for this, it's making me all woozy and confused.
But never mind! I'll write a new one, a better one. Here's chapter 14 for you, have fun!

Find the entire story here! 

The dagger lay heavy and reassuring in Niro’s fingers, a familiar weight and friend to his hatred. He didn’t stop to marvel at his luck, though; his arm made an elegant swipe towards the Ailill’s midsection, only hindered by their close proximity. Stitches across his back twinged with pain in answer to the sudden exertion, but Niro didn’t pay them any attention.
He should have still caught something, if only the cloth billowing around the Ailill’s chest, but he didn’t. The ashen man didn’t so much jump out of the blade’s path, he simply wasn’t there when the slightly curved edge whistled through the air. He hadn’t fled, either, he was standing just out of Niro’s reach, head cocked sideways and smiling.
“Want to try again, pet?” he purred in a softer voice, turning his face slightly to bare his pulse; a lascivious and infuriating invitation that Niro just couldn’t pass up. He switched his grip on the dagger, aligning the blade’s edge to lay parallel to his forearm, and jumped forward with two quick, diagonal steps, feinting to the right and to the left as he worked his way closer to his target. Only when he closed in on the Ailill did he finally go for the Ailill’s right thigh, waiting for the last possible moment to show his cards.
This time, the blade caught cloth, hissing through the fine weave with a melodious sound as the Ailill dodged back once more. Niro followed the moves this time, trying his best to catch a glimpse of the minute, lightning-fast movements and failing. At least he managed to stay on his heels, driving him across his bedroom like a snarling, blade-wielding fury.
Still, the Ailill dodged each swing, each strike or stab, offering enticing glimpses of pale, smooth, ash-gray skin as he weaved through the obstacle course that was his furniture. And he did it backwards, keeping his eyes on Niro— his face, not his arm, feet, or shoulders— smiling infuriatingly through it all.
It was his expression, that glint in Master’s eye, that finally pushed Niro over the edge of the ever-brewing rage in his heart. A blink of fury, a second of not concentrating on following the creature’s wraith-like, dancing moves and Niro was lost, crashing into the table and sending the chairs flying as he fell to the ground. The impact drove the air out of his lungs and left him battered and dazed. Had he actually moved that fast? And if so, how had he done that? How had that Fae bastard managed to be even faster?
Niro lay sprawled between the seats, staring up at the smiling nightmare that was his captor. The gaping slash in his jerkin sleeve aside, he was unfazed, not even breathing hard, not a slice of worry or anger in his inhuman eyes. That look, that too wide, too calm, too intimate expression tightened Niro’s chest, made it hard to breathe. The innate stillness in that creature’s face filled him with fear until it was all he could think of. When the Ailill finally spoke again, the smooth sound of his voice made Niro’s hairs stand on end.
“Would you like to try a third time, pet?” he purred throatily, gliding closer. “It will be your last chance to sow your wild oats, mind you. Three is the arcane number of certainty, and to let you try more than thrice and not render opposition would be sacrilege against the Lord and Lady, as much as I enjoy this little game.”
Game, he said. He actually thought this to be a game! Niro shuddered, tightening his grip on the dagger to the point of pain. Then he let it clatter to the ground, shaking his head in defeat. Two direct attacks had already failed miserably, no use in trying a third time and disgrace himself further. What he had learned so far was enough to keep him busy with planning for a few days, just long enough to fill the days of recovery after whatever punishment his new keeper would likely hand out to him.
Buying time to plan, yes, that was the reason he gave in; at least that was what Niro tried to tell his screaming mind.
The Ailill stepped closer, doing a kind of half-nod towards the side and shooing him with one hand. “Out of my sitting arrangement, little pet. And no sudden motions, we wouldn’t want you to get hurt by accident.”
He wasn’t stupid, Niro had to give him that. As he fought his body, grinding his teeth though the showers of pain on his way back to his feet, the Ailill moved closer and carefully set overthrown chairs back on their feet, tutting at the splintered table. “I would like to allege I hate having to punish you this soon,” he said, unperturbed by Niro’s careful shuffle away from the furniture, and picked up the table cloth. He shook it out, draped it over the broken table, and finally turned, eying Niro’s battered body with that too-intimate, too-hot look of his.
“But that would be a lie. I, oh, so look forward to punishing you,” he finally added with a purr. Then he smiled, and moved. Faster than before, inhumanly quick as he reached for Niro and grabbed his throat to silence the scream about to break out of his mouth.

There's the Follow-button!

After experimenting around with different methods of subscription, following, like buttons and whatnot, I decided to take out the RSS feed and go back to the good ol' Blogger Follow system, because I miss those little avatar pictures. I know people read this because I see it in my statistics, but I want to know who you are, so I can thank you :)
If you like my work and would like to have me know that, please consider following me. I promise not to spam!

Love,
Hannah

Friday Fade-Out! - Bending the Unbreakable, Part 13

Find the entire story here!

The clash with his new owner had left Niro shaken and quivery and with the urge to snarl at something and nothing at the same time. Had he been offered the chance, he would have crawled into a nook and curled up like a beaten dog, but that would have been a weakness too easily perceptible. It would have invited trouble and teasing that he could not bear, which left him with the only other choice: guarded silence and utter vigilance. Maybe those cursed metal cuffs could make him obey right now, right here, but they had to have their own weaknesses. Every trap had its weak spot and Niro had mastered the art of finding and exploiting those.
Niro was following the Ailill bastard through the maze of hallways that his family had once called their summer home, glowering at the slender, well-dressed back with all the bloodlust he could summon. As much as that man had commanded him to call him ‘master’, Niro’s feelings for him were anything but subservient. Just another Fae bastard with delusions of grandeur, a small hitch with no consequence whatsoever for Niro’s life or plans, nothing a stealthy dagger or wild arrow shot couldn’t fix. And then he finally would be free to take his revenge, to take revenge for the injustices done to his family and leave this makerforsaken city for good. The thought made him smile.
Although the home of his new liege had originally been of human design, traces of Ailill culture now were everywhere. Some of the flag stones seaming the more popular corridors had been ripped out and replaced with gleaming, colorful stone mosaics and the stone walls had been plastered and painted to repel the omnipresent gloom of the fortress. Statues depicting human gods, rulers and former inhabitants were still there, but the Fae had added little stone plaques explaining the depicted persons and scenes like a zoo exhibit. Some of the bigger pieces had lost their prominent places to Ailill art, displaced into galleries at the back of the palais.
The few servants passing the duo on their way towards the north wing were all Pander, going through their routines with sedate calmness and little interest in Niro’s presence. Guards were only posted at the doors leading to the outside, but those were Ailill in the colors of House Nancarrow, a crest well known to Niro. They ignored his snarls with stoic expressions, but nodded polite greetings at his owner as he led Niro up the stairs and into the residential wing of the estate.
The bandages chafed a little, but they survived the silent, chilly trip up the stairs and towards the master suites where once Niro’s parents had spent their evenings. Obviously, even the Ailill recognized the favorable bearing towards the sunrise; the Ailill opened the familiar door for him and ordered himinside with a silent glare.
The room had changed just as much and as little as the rest of the estate. The wooden floor wasn’t covered in wood shavings and reed anymore, but brushed and washed and lacquered. Carpets swallowed most of the gleaming wood, burying it beneath soft greens, browns and yellows, complimenting the new wall tapestries. The furniture stood in stark, dark contrast to those natural colors. It was wood, almost black but dull with the lack of protective coating, and made from a wood that Niro didn’t know and had never seen before. The grain was almost invisible, giving it a most powdery look, the carving of the pieces of furniture elegant and simple. A table with three cushioned chairs, a vanity and a small side table with flasks and decanters were scattered about the sitting room, a smaller part of the chambers intended for entertaining guests. A rather giant bed with white and sunflower-yellow sheets, a circular, curved wash trough, three commodes and a whole gathering of surfaces installed into the plaster dominated the bedroom, but the servant’s room was gone. Where once had been a door, there was now wall covered by pompous tapestry that Niro eyed with disdain and quiet fury.
Niro hesitantly walked through the rooms, staying away from the earthen oil lamps offering just enough light to get around. Except for the windows, nothing was as he remembered it from his youth. Gone were the light oak furnitures, the paintings of ancestors and the smell of his mother’s soap. The wall where she had marked their children’s growth, much to the chagrin of the serving folk, had been painted over, the sword dent in the door frame smoothened out, the blood soaking the wooden floor panels in her death sanded away. He might as well have walked into a stranger’s inner sanctum, for all he cared. Adding to that, this particular stranger was intent on making him a plaything to be toyed with.
The quiet fury brewing in Niro’s chest was exquisite.
“Have you been here before?” The Ailill was leaning casually against the door frame connecting the bedroom with the sitting room and eying Niro with what he could only assume to be a lazy smirk. Inside these friendly quarters, the dark garment on his ashen body looked out of place and improper.
“A long time ago,” Niro allowed with a forced casualty he didn’t feel. Lying to Ailill never went well, but bending or holding back the truth worked well enough. And since too personal questions were seen as brutish and rude, they had a tendency to not press, even where it might have been acceptable.
The ruse did its work. The Ailill nodded and pushed off the door frame, joining Niro in the bedroom and crowding him towards the bed by simply closing in on him. After what had happened on the balcony and the shame of letting someone pet him like a dog, Niro stepped back instantly. The Ailill prowled after him like a djinn, with movements smooth as silk in a breeze and a play of lights and shadows flitting over his flowing garments, his ashen skin and his black hair. The Fae’s lips still held that small, lazy smile, but his eyes gave away the predator instincts, the joy of having his prey cornered.
“I’m not your pet,” Niro hissed, twitching as his calves hit the edge of the giant bed.
At an arm’s length, the Ailill slowed down, not only in speed, but in movement. He took that last step like he was trapped in a different stream of time, carefully, oh so carefully extending one hand to frame Niro’s cheek with cool, soft fingers as he leaned forward.
“Yes, you are,” he whispered, leaning in as if to kiss Niro, his cat-like eyes small and lascivious.
Their bodies touched. A cold, hateful grin flashed through Niro’s face.
Then he grabbed the dagger dangling at the Ailill’s belt.

My first official review!

Getting your first review is a special moment in the life of every author. Reviews are like badges you get for work done well, and they are handed out by the people who matter most: Readers. I'm so hyped right now!
I already mentioned finishing "Shapeshifter", my first story ever, I think, but now it also got its own review - check it out here!

European Bachelor Kitchen - It's Schnitzel time!

 The famous Schnitzel

Yes. Schnitzel is a staple of Austrian cuisine. Yes, we actually eat it quite a lot. And yes, it's fatty and protein-rich and probably not very good for your cholesterol, but we also walk a lot. I mean, a LOT. So there's that, I guess.

This is not a Schnitzel. This is an abomination.

 There's not much to say about a real Schnitzel, honestly. Austrians are puritans when it comes to their traditional cuisine, which means: No fancy stuff. The less ingredients, the better, and nothing to scare your pretty little eye away from that awesome, battered piece of bread-crumbed goodness. Which is why I added that foto up there. That's some sadistic stuff going on there, with all that sauce and salad, not cool!
A true Schnitzel is able to hold its own, all by its little lonesome. There are some high-end restaurants who actually try to make Schnitzel some kind of fancy dish, but neither does it stick, nor do most people like it. If you can't make your flat piece of meat set hearts on fire by itself, please don't try to hide that sad fact behind lettuce.

.. or potatoes.

Also, Schnitzel has its own fast-food-chain in Austria, called "Schnitzelhaus". It's so popular, it already has loads of competition, the "Schnitzlplatzl" for example. They do try to fancy up the Schnitzel with a few varieties, such as the Hawaiian Schnitzel or the turkey or pork variety, but for most of the time, the Austrians stick to their classic veal.
It's important to know how something is supposed to taste before you go off the rails and dip it in gravy or sauce hollandaise, or some other horror, so here you go: I give you the generic, Austrian Schnitzel recipe!

Come here, my pretty little angel!

What you need

•  Slabs of veal, cut half as thick as a finger (about)
• All-purpose flour
• Milk
• Eggs
• Breadcrumbs (fine ones are better)
• Salt
• A fryer (ideal) or a deep pan and lots of lard/frying oil 
• A meat mallet!

 

And here's how it's done!

It's rather easy, honestly. As you noticed, I didn't add any quantities to the ingredients, because for the life of me, I couldn't tell you how much I actually need. I simply take three soup plates and work my way through, adding stuff whenever I run low. But let's start from the beginning!
It all starts with the slabs of veal and the meat mallet. Combine the two in a pounding manner until the veal is flattened like an opossum on the highway, on both sides. I usually work my way through all of the meat, stack the pieces I pounded, and then go on to the crumbing part. I honestly don't know how to use a fryer, so if you've got one of those, make sure it's warming up at this point, because as soon as those babies have met the bread crumbs, they should meet their heated maker.
But! Back to the crust. As I said, you need three soup plates or some other containers big enough to drag your pounded pieces of veal through.
The flour goes into the first plate, just enough to fill it to half.
A good swig of milk and two eggs go into the second platter and get scrambled to a thick goo. As long as it's good and yellow/orange, don't worry too much, just mix it well.
The breadcrumbs go into the third plate, a little more than the flour but not too much, or you'll dirty your kitchen.

With this done, your frying station should be up and running on two thirds of heat - not too hot, not too cold.

Each pounded slab of veal needs a sprinkle of salt and pepper on each side. Rub it in and then proceed to move the veal through the three plates, covering them each first in flour, then in egg/milk, then in breadcrumbs. Make sure to be diligent here, no empty spots, no sticky edges!
Into the fryer for about five to seven minutes, with the frying pan version you'll need to carefully shake it here and there, so the fat can slosh over the edges and fluff up the crust. Also: Using a pan means you'll have to do both sides for about five minutes!

Aaand that's it. Out of the fryer, maybe dab it a little with kitchen paper to get off the excess of fat, and onto the plate. We usually eat it with a pinch of lime drizzled over the crust, fries on the side and maybe a potato salad, but it tastes rather good with ketchup or mayonnaise too.

Why this is a bachelor dish

Well, to be honest, it isn't. And it is, because look at the ingredients! I usually have all of those at home, because they are staples in many, many Austrian dishes, which means: If I want to treat myself to a Schnitzel, I just have to buy the veal, and off I go. As a bonus, cooking Schnitzel will always, ALWAYS put you in the good graces of your guests! If they're not vegetarian, I guess, hm.

Anyhow! That's it for the Schnitzel!

Love,
Hannah

Back, but not really

Hello guys and gals!

I'm back from my trip to Greece and feeling much more relaxed than before.
Here's the reason for that:

The sea actually looked like that, no editing needed!

Unfortunately, uni has had a death grip on my brain ever since I came back. I'll be starting on Wednesday, 5th, and I seem to be running from one task to the next, ever since my acceptance mail came. It's funny to study English when I've already gotten the certificate needed to finish the course, but well! I'll be counting on a lot of free time to write throughout the lectures.

I'm trying to find time to work on my projects with my beta reader and my editor, but I haven't written a word in the last ten days. Here's to hoping it won't stick!