Except my Life

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to be except for the plot and the chick...that I have finally named.

Pairings: Well...eventual Vaako thing...EVENTUAL

Warning: Violence...maybe Language...some spoilers for The Chronicles of Riddick

Category: Drama/Action/Adventure/Romance -- romance is also eventual

Title: Except My Life -- will definitely change because I don't like that title very much. Help from readers welcomed!

Status: Inprogress

A/N: I would like you all to keep in mind that almost everything Morrien says is in riddles. Not difficult ones, mind you, when you realize the plot that is. In fact, I don't really think it's difficult at all. I'm sorry if it is, but everything will all be clear when the plot becomes more defined, so bear with me. Just be aware that Morrien loves speaking in riddles and/or shakespearean at certain times. Her speech pattern kind of varies between the two, so if you pay attention to her personality enough, you might just understand why.

Chapter 2

"Ah, my love, my love, my love...mark my sorrow and the viciousness of my heart. My love, my love, the concept, the concept," Morrien slowly chants to herself. She is twirling a leaf and examining it closely as she lays in an "L" shape on the window sill, her back to the sill and her legs straight up against the side of the window. Morrien giggles girlishly to herself. "Oh the concept! Lost, lost it is! Mmm, a new plan, a new plan. Oh, the wicked widow is out to play. Widow...widow...black widow...sad widow...widow, widow. Venom, venom, sickly poison, venom. Oh, the viper has arrived, the viper has arrived. The viper, bigger, stronger, in control...hm...but the widow...yes, the widow...smaller, unseen, careful, deadly. Yes, the widow. Viper, be gone..." Morrien whispers airily to herself. "Hm...at a loss. Death to the darkness," she hisses, an expression of vile distain flashes across her face. However, it smooths out easily into a deadly calm, "Sickening. No need, no needs. Defense for the self and the honors myself. Prizes, prizes, none there, many here...yes, here." Morrien giggles again. "Here, here, here, where the faith is. Where the world is. Where the society is. Where the dead life is. Perfect place." She smiles thoughtfully to herself. She waves the leaf about lightly in the air, letting go, and watching it flutter gently to land on her belly.

"Morrien, muttering to yourself again," the soft, dignified voice of Morrien's favorite person states more than asks.

"Mmm..." is Morrien's light murmuring reply.

"Morrien...?"

"Nothing, my lord."

"Nothing? It did not sound like nothing a moment ago."

"Nothing, my lord."

"You'll still insist even if I press, won't you?"

"Of course, my lord."

He sighs, "Come, walk with me then."

"Yes, my lord," she utters feather softly. Morrien stands and trails behind the man who bestowed upon her her name. There is a brief minute of silence before Morrien feels the need to break it. "Where to, my lord?"

"No where and everywhere all in the same, Morrien. You continue to insist upon calling me your lord," the Head Purifier drawls soothingly.

"And what else would you be? I am a mere silencer, to roam as I please until called upon. And yet, I am still of a lower class. You are inspiration, my lord, I am termination. What brings more to the faith? Inspiration replenishes our ranks. I can only decrease it."

"A convincing arguement, but with your skills, you put me physically lower than yourself."

"Force is not always the solution, that is a rule of thumb when being a silencer."

"Mm, yes, that's true."

"Hath my lord a method? A man does not oft visit a silencer for no process."

The Head Purifier smirks just a little at this. "So little faith in me, Morrien. You're a suspicious devil."

She chuckles. "A suspicious devil indeed. Shall I apologize for my ill hope?"

The Head Purifier nods his head as if giving a slight reckoning. "No, no. Apologies are little words. They have no true meaning. Words are words, but actions, oh yes, actions are action."

"Yes! To the exact!" Morrien bursts into laughter, eagerly agreeing with the adored man. "There's always something to be learned in books."

"Yes, few have ever even laid their sights upon a book. Books are rare in this age. Too fragile and all words.
Words don't seem to hold the same gratification as sight and sound. Yes, yes, books challenge the imagination. And these days, not many like to be challenged. To be academically challenge a man means to insult and threaten his life. That is the curse of books of this time. However, if man were to indulge himself with the knowledgeable text...mayhap there wouldn't be so much chaos. To learn from the past is to better your future."

Morrien nods in concurrence, "Mmm, yes, yes, very true. Many a silencers have been forced into the teachings of text and the past to better prepare. Strategies is the name of the game. Many silencings are quite lengthy. Stategy is required in those cases. Text is also able to give one a better understanding of the common man. For example, a book of a dead faith, though rather useless and ridiculous at some points, reads of man's disgraces."

A glint of sharpness flashes in the Head Purifier's eyes. "Ah, do you mean to say that uneducated silencers are quickly discovered and terminated?"

Morrien cocks her head to the side as if in thought. "Mmm, in a way, yes. I have heard of a few that had gone uneducated and succeed, but those are the ones who are unable to manage a mask because their mistakes are of the flesh. And for some of those, it's just luck."

"Are you lucky, then?"

"Me?" Morrien quirks an eyebrow. "Me?" She plays a feline smirk across her lips, "No. No luck here, my lord. All careful thoughts and master schemes. No luck, just skill."

"Stategy is the name of the game, hm?"

"Yes."

"Is there an ultimate purpose here?"

Morrien perks at this question, falling instantly into childish delight. "Oh, yes! None like you know! None like you distrustfully assume. Faith! The word faith! The act faith! Faith!" Morrien hisses the last part with vicious mirth. Her harsh catty grin leaving an eerie effect in the air.

"You put fear in my heart, Morrien," the Head Purifier replies with furrowed brows of a little annoyance and a bit of frustration.

"Fear you not, my lord! I, Morrien, is at the service of yours and the faith's. No ill will shall be beared by I," Morrien's usual impish smile returns to brighten her face in a girlish way. "Yes, no worries!" She giggles and twirls around the Head Purifier, dancing around him smoothing. That's when she felt it. Morrien halts abruptly,
an angry scrowl fills the planes of her face. She hisses savagely at the wall, her eyes focus on something not entirely there.

"Morrien?" the fatherly man inquires, feeling a disturbance in the pits of his soul by this extremely odd action.

"It's here!" Morrien growls.

"What's here?"

Morrien's head swivels around. She stares at the Head Purifier with wide eyes. "The planet, of course," she replies as if the answer is as clear as glass.

"The planet?" the man of Morrien's familiar affections quirks a brow and an expression stating that he is pondering the state of her sanity.

Morrien turns her attention back to the invisible area of before. "Yes, the planet." Morrien narrows her eyes. She gives one last animalistic snarl and stalks away. "You had better hurry, my lord. The little lambs need your sheperding."

The Head Purifier opens his mouth to question where she is going, but thinks better of it. Instead he states and asks at the same time, "You will be there."

"No," she says flatly.

"Morrien," is his stern, but incredibly calm and soft, response. A tinge of warning is in his tone.

Morrien halts and pivots her head until she is glancing over her shoulder, "The lord will be unable to bring an arrest. You cannot curb the results. There is still a slot in my game of chance." Morrien continues her prowl of new destination.

"Morrien," he tries to coax more out of her.

Morrien whirls around with a glower that spoke volumes. "Begging your pardon, my lord, but my time is pressed. Birds cannot sing. Still your heart and do as you are expected. The dawn of the green is born and I promised to be alive." Morrien deserts her menacing saunter completely and dashes down the corridor with the same grace and deathly speed of a cheetah, giving no consideration to those she nearly bowls into along the way.

The Head Purifier sighs, abandoning hopes of catching up to her and getting more answers. He goes along his way, contemplating the meanings behind Morrein's chaotic riddles. Coming to no conclusion, he decides that he would confront her later and go about his duties now.

//////////break//////////

Morrien fumes. She paces the floor with the angry vigor of a caged lion. "Now!" she seethes. "Now! Fortune now decides to sing! Now when I have yet to string my instrument!" With a burst of ill passion, Morrien lashes out at the wall. Her calm demeanor lost to the world by her rage. Deep gashes are left in the metallic wall from her equally metallic claw-like nails, an alteration made in her genetic code when she became a silencer. Finally, Morrien takes a breath and suppresses her vexed temper. A game set by Destiny and a challenge set by Fate. 'But formalities will be set by me,' she thinks. With that as her last thought, Morrien leaves the abused wall behind to seek out her beloved lord.

//////////break//////////

"Where are you going, girl?" the pretentious voice of Dame Vaako calls to Morrien.

Morrien comes to a screeching halt, she turns to face the woman of her disgust. "I am pressed for time, Dame Vaako. Perhaps I can entertain you with other matters at a later time." Morrien turns to continue, but is stopped once more.

"You did not answer my question. Where are you going? Surely a silencer cannot be pressed for time. There is no need for a silencer. Unless...there is talk of conspiracy. They say you are the one behind such sickly intentions. Are you going to prove these rumors correct?"

Morrien whirls around with flames her eyes. "I am loyal to my faith, Dame Vaako! Should there be any confederacy running in anyone's blood, it should be of a vile snake! I am no serpant to hold treason! Silencers do not mutinize, Lady Vaako." Morrien continues, unable to stop herself now that she has been riled into arguement by the insult of her loyalties and skill. "We merely take upon a goal and see it is done. Abettors wait and never do, they think of pretty plans with beautiful writing and then they are caught. Silencers make the task a quick deal. That is why we are called silencers because we are silent. Consirpacy is never in our blood, Dame Vaako. I must implore you to never insinuate such a thing again. Now if you will excuse me, Lady. I will take my leave. My destination is none of your concern and apologies if you feel I over stepped any boundaries. May you fare well in your fate." A last bow of her head and Morrien quickly leaves the astounded Dame Vaako in her trailing wind.

//////////break//////////

Morrien enters the conference room just as Vaako leaves it. She spares him a side long glance, to which he returns with a more menacing air. Of course, Morrien ignores the sharp look and bows before the Lord Marshall. "My lord, my apologies for not being present."

The Lord Marshall waves his hand absentmindedly. "It was a routine purification ceremony, you had no need to be there, and the...intruder was an unforseen variable."

"If my lord says so," Morrien murmurs. She straightens and slinks up beside the Lord Marshall. She glances at the object of the Lord Marshall's and his commander's interest, deems the topic to be important and only proceeding for a few more moments longer. Morrien steps away from them to sit beside the Lord Marshall's throne-like chair within the room. She leans against the arm of the chair, almost literally laying in wait.

As expected, the Lord Marshall quickly dismisses the leaders of his troops and sits heavily in his chair. "I have a task for you, Morrien."

As the Lord Marshall takes breath to continue, Morrien interrupts. "My lord..." she whispers, her expression taking on a slightly sorrowful desperation. "I beg of, my lord. Please hear my application."

The Lord Marshall stares with a quirked eyebrow, not sure what to think Morrien's sudden agonized distress. "Go on, I will listen."

"I must advocate with thee. Understand my mind and my love. Halt your damning fascination. Break this constant excursion. It will only bring about a pregnant intended end." Morrien leans in as if to grasp the Lord Marshall's hand, but does not partake in such an action.

"More matter and less art."

Had this not been a dire moment, Morrien would have fallen over, clutching her stomach from the lack of oxygen as she laughed to the end of her days. However, this is a dire moment, so Morrien settles with leaning in closer. "The prophecy!" Morrien hisses with conviction in her eyes.

If the Lord Marshall had not been all ears earlier, he now gives his fullest attention to Morrien. Murder is aflame in his eyes, "Prophecy, Morrien? I hope you know that the words you're speaking are very dangerous. One incorrection will be of heavy consequences." He glances around the room, waving his hand, indicating to those still in the room are dismissed. They follow his command.

"Save your threats for when I am fearing," Morrien hisses. "Hear me with clarity, my lord. Prophecies are pretty words, nothing more. They only become more when you persue them! Very much like how you are persuing them right now. Call back your men. Waste no any on the barbarian convict. He is not worth your time. I do not say this as one of your Necromongers. I say this as a silencer of great experience. And I say this as a silencer who has touched the Eye of Jodgr. Heed my warning, my lord. I have no control over what is to come if you set the prophecy into play. It is still early, you can still take back before it goes too far." Morrien calms her rapid heart and leans in close, until her lips are equal to his ear. "There is talk of conspiracy and my lips are only to recite to you. My faith and loyalty is to this cause." Not waiting for the Lord Marshall's dismissal, Morrien rises and exits the room like a chilly, winter breeze. Decisions now fall upon the Lord Marshall's mind and shoulders.

A/N: The Eye of Jodgr is something I totally made up on my own, so it belongs to me. It will be explained later on in the story as to what it really is, but I think y'all can get a faint idea of what it is already. Be nice or be mean, I don't care, just please give me feedback. If you're going to be mean, at least be constructive, or I might not respond. Fair warning. Until my brain starts working then! Ta ta, my pretties!