Untitled.

Once upon a time in a far, faraway land, there were two Virgos, one a Virguy, the other a Virgirl.

They were leisurely pacing -- lost in idle palaver, as it would have seemed to bystanders. When off in the hazed distance, amid the fine serein, the vague silhouette of an Ariean man came to prominence.

The two Virgos, glancing over the figure's scrawny form with a convicted and discerning gaze, come to a silent, mutual understanding.

Slowly they crouch, slowly approaching, movements perfectly orchestrated with adept calculation and grace, analyzing the height, the length, the ratio of Virgo-to-Aries.

And it was within that one, critical moment, the one moment that the Ariean had allowed his guard to stoop, that the two Virgos seized him, ensconcing him in their warm, entangling embrace.

And he was scarred for life.

Untitled.

"Move over, man!", - Harris shouted and shoved a clueless skaterboy to the side. Had it not been for the conveniently placed drunkard, the skater would soon lock in a carnal embrace with the pavement. Good thing the drunkard was there to soften the fall.

After slamming the Caf�-door open, Harris stomped all the way to a table by the window, before settling his weight down on the couch. The tallest man he was not, towering above average females and sevengraders at best. What Harris lacked in height, he would make up in raw power, courage and boundless drive, although some people would rather describe it as foolishness, impatience and lack of manners. Irish blood blessed him with strong, muscular physique; bad temper, and rich locks of golden blonde hair. Cerulean blue eyes drew a finishing touch over the fiery nature, the man practically shared his palette with tropical islands.

"You just sit there!", - Harris added a careful emphasis on the last part of the sentence by slamming his palm down onto the table, almost prompting his partner's coffeecup to fly off. This time, gravity was on Nero's side. "I can't drink whilst walking!", - Nero hissed behind a bulletproof stare. Harris' patience waned by the second. The two had been brought together a couple of years ago by what can only be described as fate's occasionally retarded sense of humor. And on one of those retarded occasions, two individuals must've entered the karmic bar just as the main punchline was being delivered. All metaphorically speaking.

Some things the two had in common were appreciation for honesty, adventure, money and getting things done. That is, if one doesn't count all the small trivial details such as the similar amount of lungs, the fact that they both belong to the human species, wear shoes, et cetera. Both lacked a certain sense of practicality in one way or another, but had enough drive and ambition to reach out towards their dreams. Too bad all that potential was scattered and unchanneled, expressing itself as random outbursts on a smaller scheme of life.

The differences were significant. Harris knew the meaning of risks and sacrifices, he made a leap of faith every single time he made a leap. Nero played it safe most of the time, and made leaps of faith every now and then, provided it could be worth the potential failure. Besides, Nero seldom flirted with his emotional side, since that side had walked off to a different party altogether, not counting the few stubborn emotions that were left behind. That's one of the reasons to why the two made such a terrific and also terrible team at times. Harris had boundless passion, Nero had binding passion.

"...The passion that binds me?",- Nero threw out a random sentence from his head. It landed on the table and dissolved into unidentified tone, unknown context, and fractured relevance. Harris tapped impatiently with his feet, impatient enough to a point where he felt like making a contribution of conversational value, "THAT MAKES NO SENSE, plus you sound like a woman, and those two go hand in hand."

Hell hath no fury like an intoxicated young short woman with a temper, who just so happened to overhear Harris from her corner. Overhearing wasn't an option, mentally locking his voice out at all required advanced meditational skills. The young woman ran up to dubious duo's table and flew onto the couch; "YOU ARE BUT A BROKEN STRIPPERCAKE IN AN ABANDONED STRIPCLUB, HOW DARE YOU INSULT HANDS. YOU ARE SHORT, BUT TALLER THAN ME, BUT NOT IF I STAND ON THIS COUCH, HAHAHAHA."

Nero and Harris stared at the greeneyed spitfire. Her wavy almond-colored hair was washed in beer. "Oh my god. I know who you are!", Harris stood up from couch, having been hit by an epiphany-brick. Nero switched focus between the two of them, "Who? Who is it? Seriously? What is she doing? Do you know her? Why? Why do you know her?". Greeneyed spitfire stood triumphantly resting one foot on the table, drawing a deep, victorious breath; "The name is... KATHERINE." Nero kept gazing in anticipation. Harris elaborated: "This is THE Katherine! Pubcrawler Queen. I never thought I'd actually meet her outside a bar."

Katherine brushed a lock of beersoaked hair away from her face, -"Anticipate no more, for I am here.", - and drew another calm breath.

- Maybe to be continued.

"Libra the Scales and the Prisoner of Porcelain"

Chiefly dialogue and onmatopoeia. See if you can guess who the prisoner is. Warning: the prisoner has a sailor's vulgar mouth, even though she is not aquatic. Rated PG-13.

"AARGH! Open up, you fucking, pointless door! I have to pee this instant! Who in the name of Cronos locked the stupid door?!"

Flush. Splash. Drip. Drip. Click. Squeak.

"Why, hello. I had no idea that you were waiting to use the restroom. It smells quite fresh in there. Goodbye, then. I don't want to keep you waiting. Do enjoy your time on the porcelain express."

"Sure, Libra. I'm certain I will."

The obnoxious, sarcastic bastard, laughing at everyone behind that polite mask.

SLAM. Slap. Flush. Splash. Squeal. Drip. Splat. Rattle. Rattle. RATTLE.

"Damnit! Why the fuck won't the goddamn door open?!" I swear this inn is conspiring against me. Why is there only one restroom for both sexes? Then I might not have to use this piece of shit.

Boom. Bang. Thud. Boom. Bang. Thud.

*Five minutes later.*

BOOM. CRACK!

"OWW! My foot!"

I hate this tavern. Screw Taurus for picking it because of the good food. Everything else sucks.

----- "So, how were your travels with the porcelain express, my friend?"

"Absolutely ruddy brilliant. They were so great that I'll reckon I'll go back later and jill off in there."

*Scandalized Scales Spluttering in Shock*

"What? I'm a hormonal, horny teenager, just like the rest of the team. Okay, Cancer, Aquari, Capricorn, and Vir probably aren't, and Pi is too innocent, but you can't deny that we're all turned on at some point. I bet even you don't even live that much in your brain. I think Saggy wanked in there yesterday."

*Jawdrop*

Triumph.