Moridin's Mystery Mindtrap Theater 3K by Julia D

Chapter One: Born in Darkness

Moridin idly stroked the two mindtraps tucked under his shirt. He tried not to smirk at the two nervous women who stood before him, shuddering as they felt his fingers touching their souls. They had no idea why he had summoned them here, when it was too early for his morning kaf break or for his daily foot massage, and he wasn’t telling them yet. Let them wait and stew in their own worry.

He sighed with contentment. Only the day before, he had found a Time-Traveling ter’angreal in a stasis-box, and he’d used it to travel to the First Age, the Age before his own Age. It wasn’t a bad Age to live in; the technology, though wasteful, was advanced, and there was plenty of chaos and evil in the world. What he had brought back, though, was even better than anything the Chosen had ever dreamed of. It was a punishment so emotionally destructive, so horrifying, that the strongest man or woman would crumble when he or she suffered it.

“M-Moridin?” ventured Moghedien.

At a raise of her owner’s eyebrows, she reluctantly added, “I mean, Mia’cova, would you-would you tell us why you summoned us here?”

Good; she was frightened already. According to Semhirage, it was always best if fear began early. Moridin smiled slowly and began to speak.

“Well, as it happened, I found a stasis-box with a Time-Traveling ter’angreal in it. I traveled back in time to the First Age, and…well…come with me and you’ll see for yourself.”

He stood up and strode out of his sitting room, followed by an anxious Moghedien and Cyndane. The two women had reason to worry, for Moridin was leading them through dank stone passages that they did not recognize, where they had never been before. Hours seemed to pass, yet the passages continued.

At last, Moridin stopped in front of a splintery wooden door, flung it open, and said with an evil smile, “Go on in.”

With great trepidation, Cyndane and Moghedien entered the room…and stopped dead, their fear abruptly changing to confusion. Instead of bringing them to a dungeon or a torture chamber, Moridin had led them to a…theater?

For that was what the room was: row upon row of red velvet seats, facing a huge stage at one end. Although the place was rather uncomfortable-looking, with freezing air, holes in the seats, ripped, ragged curtains over the stage, and garbage all over the floor, there was no mistaking it for a theater.

Was Moridin even going to punish them? What had he brought them here for?

Moridin himself slipped in through the door behind them. “Well, don’t just stand there,” he said irritably, pointing to the seats. “Sit down in the front row.”

The two female Chosen did so, growing more and more bewildered. The reincarnated Betrayer of Hope stepped onto the stage and addressed them both.

“What you are about to witness,” said he, “is called fanfiction. It was a popular pastime back in the First Age; people would write stories about their favorite characters from books and films. This, of course, was mostly harmless, and provided not only entertainment, but writing practice to these writers.

“However, at times such fanfiction became deadly. There were authors who wrote horrible fanfiction, full of grammatical errors and Mary Sues.”

“Mary Sues?” Cyndane interrupted, her eyes widening in shock. “You mean those…those creatures created in the First Age that were so deadly that the strongest men and women fell under their powers? The ones that Aginor talked about all the time?”

“The same,” Moridin answered smugly.

“Aginor t-told us about them!” Moghedien stammered, growing more and more frightened. “He said they were too beautiful to be human and could fight and were intelligent and…and…I thought they were all destroyed!”

“Oh, they were,” reassured Moridin. “That’s why I’m glad I can travel back in time.” Chuckling madly, he opened a gateway that led onto a balcony, stepped through, and vanished.

Abruptly, as the mindtrapped Chosen grew more and more fearful, the format of this story changed to script format…

CYNDANE: I’m getting a bad feeling about this. Surely he’s not going to unleash a herd of Mary Sues on us?

MOGHEDIEN: I don’t know, but I’m getting out of here right now.

(She gets up, runs to the door, and tries in vain to open it—it’s locked.

MOGHEDIEN: Th-that’s funny…it wasn’t locked before…

(She runs up on stage, goes behind the curtain, and tries both stage doors—which are both locked.

MOGHEDIEN (horrified): We’re trapped! We’re trapped like rats!

CYNDANE: All right, Moridin; this time you’ve gone too far!

(She opens herself to saidar…and finds nothing. She has been shielded)

CYNDANE (howling): WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!

(Suddenly, Moridin’s voice comes out of nowhere. In reality, he is sitting up in the balcony of the theater, but Cyndane and Moghedien don’t know this)

MORIDIN’S VOICE: Oh, yes, I should have told you: you won’t need to channel this time. All you have to do is read the story; you may say whatever you like about it. Enjoy yourselves…as best you can. (laughs)

(Cyndane has sunken, shocked, back into her seat, while Moghedien, as is her wont when she does not have the upper hand, has become hysterical)

MOGHEDIEN (pounding on the door to the theater): Let me out!! LET ME OUT!!!

CYNDANE: All right, Moghedien, we should just stay calm. It won’t kill us to sit through a piece of fanfiction; Moridin said it was just reading a story. How bad can a story be?

MOGHEDIEN (gulping, moving back to her seat): I don’t know. And I’m not sure I want to find out, either…

(The lights dim and the raggedy curtains draw back to reveal a brightly-lit up screen. The words of the fanfiction appear)

Chapter 1: Born in Darkness

CYNDANE (shiver): Is the main character going to be like us, then? Trapped here in this dark room and forced to…

MOGHEDIEN (shudder): Dear Great Lord, if she was born here in this theater, I feel sorry for her already.

She stepped into the blow,

MOGHEDIEN: Who’s “she”? The Mary Sue?

CYNDANE: How do you step into a blow, anyway?

feeling the impact ring through her body.

CYNDANE: Ding-a-ling-a-ling!

Her blade slipped from her fingers and

MOGHEDIEN: Landed straight in her heart. The end.

skidded across the slick black stone beneath her feet.

CYNDANE: The blade stabbed into her feet, with the result that she collapsed and couldn’t walk for the rest of her life.

She stepped backwards,

MOGHEDIEN: Slipped on a banana peel, and fell flat on her back.

narrowly avoiding a second blow,

CYNDANE: “Get your breath away from my private parts!”

felt her shoulder strike something solid. The wall sconce.

CYNDANE (snort): Grammar mistake number one: a dependent clause that could easily have been part of the last sentence standing alone. Really, I KNOW it can be used for dramatic effect, but it’s still bloody annoying.

MOGHEDIEN: Oh, do shut up; you’re as anal as Messaana about grammar.

She snatched the torch and

CYNDANE: Shoved it down her throat; it was always her greatest ambition to be a fire-breather.

dove between her opponents’ legs, thrusting the torch above her.

CYNDANE: Ooh, a FIRE JOB?! I’ve heard of blow jobs and hand jobs, but not fire jobs…how exciting that must be!

MOGHEDIEN (shudder): If you’re not careful, you’ll give both Graendal and Semhirage ideas.

The startled creature howled in pain and

CYNDANE (gleefully): Pleasure!

swung its weapon clumsily towards its feet.

MOGHEDIEN: However, instead of chopping off its feet, it accidentally chopped off Mary Sue’s head. The end.

She felt the air from it’s swing

BOTH: Um…what?

ripple her hair as she slid through the muck. Her fingers touched steel.

She snatched her blade from the floor, came gracefully to her feet, executing a neat 180 degree turn, slicing neatly through flesh, and muscle.

CYNDANE: I’m going to be ill; she fights like a so-called Aiel Maiden of the Spear?

MOGHEDIEN: To think that I had any doubts that she was a Mary Sue…

The creature fell into the muck, howling in pain.

CYNDANE (as creature): Suuuuuuuuueeee…noooooooo!!!

She stepped backwards, listening to it thrash about in the muck, shrieking, trying to reach her.

MOGHEDIEN: I’d be shrieking too, if I couldn’t reach myself.

CYNDANE: I’m not even going to ask.

She took hold of the Power, feeling it flood into her in a brilliant rush.

CYNDANE (screeching in frustration): Let me get this straight; you want us to read a story about a girl who fights with a sword AND can channel, and is probably beautiful and well-loved by all?! Moridin, I’d rather go back to massaging your feet!

MORIDIN’S VOICE: That’s Mia’cova to you, “Last Chance”, and don’t worry; you can give me a foot massage when you’re done with this chapter.

She reached for silken lines of Fire and Air,

MOGHEDIEN: Fire and Air…it’s SO soft and silky!

tossing them almost lazily towards her fallen foe.

CYNDANE: And are we going to know WHY she’s channeling to kill the creature when it’s obviously already dead?

MOGHEDIEN: Well, “better safe than sorry”; that’s what I always say.

CYNDANE (snicker): You WOULD say that.

he heard crackling as the creature’s fur caught,

MOGHEDIEN: Who’s “he”? Great Lord, at least tell us the names of your new characters!

the screeching increased in time with the flows,

CYNDANE: It’s the famous “Screech-and-Flow Symphony”! The screeches and the flows are perfectly in sync with each other!

then silence and the rank smell of

MOGHEDIEN: Evil radiating from Mary Sue…

burnt hair and flesh filled the corridor.

MOGHEDIEN (sigh): If only it were the smell of HER burnt hair and flesh.

She reached up and wrenched

CYNDANE: Her head off…

the blindfold from her eyes,

BOTH: Huh?

tossing it on top of the mess in front of her, and sheathed her sword.

MOGHEDIEN: Are we absolutely SURE that this is a female? I mean, a sword could be a euphemism for a penis.

CYNDANE: You’re just saying that because the Mary Sues that fight with swords are usually toxic. Face it, dearie; this IS a Mary Sue that fights with a sword, and she IS toxic.

From a dark corner of the room she heard

CYNDANE: The ominous rumbling of a mob of angry fanfiction authors.

scattered applause.

CYNDANE: As she was torn to shreds by the rabid mob…

She bowed slightly to a dark man leaning against the stone wall to her left.

MOGHEDIEN: As her head fell forward from her neck, and the remains of her knees buckled beneath her.

Other figures were barely visible scattered about the room.

CYNDANE: They were barely visible, but they WERE audible—and they were cheering and singing loudly, because Mary Sue was dead. The end.

Directly in front of her, an alcove in the wall seemed to shift, a void in the darkness.

MOGHEDIEN: This “void in the darkness”, however, was nothing but the chute through which Sue’s body would slide on the way to the crematorium.

She walked to the foot of a small set of stairs below the alcove and knelt.

CYNDANE: She slipped, fell headfirst into the chute, and was sucked into another dimension.

RISE CHILD.

MOGHEDIEN: Wha—what? What is the Great Lord trying to say here? It doesn’t make any sense!

“You are pleased, Great Father.”

MOGHEDIEN: Who is this “Great Father”? From the capital letters, I thought it was the Great Lord that was speaking.

I AM PLEASED. TURN AROUND.

CYNDANE: I WANT YOU ON YOUR HANDS AND KNEES, BITCH, WITH YOUR ARSE IN THE AIR, SO I CAN RUT ON YOU LIKE A BEAST.

MOGHEDIEN (horror): The GREAT LORD wants to have sex with a Mary Sue?!

CYNDANE: Don’t worry; it’s the Great FATHER, not the Great Lord.

She did so, slowly, clasping her hands behind her back.

CYNDANE: YOU MAY AS WELL KNOW, YOU WHORE, THAT THAT’S NOT GOING TO PROTECT YOU.

Shoulders straight, no expression in her blue eyes.

CYNDANE: Uh oh, we’re learning right away what her eye color is. This is an EXTREMELY bad sign.

MOGHEDIEN: I hate having “expressions” in my eyes; they hurt more than contact lenses.

BEHOLD, MY CHOSEN, A WARRIOR WITHOUT EQUAL.

(Both Chosen are speechless)

MOGHEDIEN: I think I just sicked up in my mouth.

She was grateful for the shadows as color rushed to her face.

CYNDANE: Turning her purple, then orange, then turquoise. Well, after all, the author didn’t specify WHAT color.

YOU MAY GO, WITH MY BLESSINGS, CHILD.

MOGHEDIEN: “With my blessings”? “A warrior without equal”? I hate her already.

She turned, knelt once more, pressing her forehead to the cool stone,

CYNDANE (as the stone): Don’t touch me, you disgusting piece of Trolloc shit! Your Mary Sue evil will infect me!

then rose smoothly and strode out the door

CYNDANE: Where a Myrddraal was waiting for her with a whip and a pair of hot tongs…

. Her soft boots made no sound on the stone. She moved quietly as a Fade through the twisting passages beneath Shayol Ghul.

CYNDANE: WHAT?! When was anybody but the Chosen, Trollocs, and Myrddraal allowed in Shayol Ghul?!

MOGHEDIEN: This is outrageous! Who’s guarding the mountain these days?!

She reached her quarters a short time later,

MOGHEDIEN: Quarters! Quarters, quarters, quarters! Let’s draw, quarter, and hang Mary Sue!

CYNDANE (worriedly): Er…is this story driving you mad already, Moghedien?

pushing the heavy door inward. She let the door slam

CYNDANE: Into her back, knocking her to the floor.

shut behind her and stripped off her

CYNDANE: Panties?

MOGHEDIEN: Bra?

sword,

MOGHEDIEN: Ah…her detachable penis!

caressing the hilt lovingly

CYNDANE: Are you willing to bet that the author could possibly be more obvious with the foreplay?

MOGHEDIEN: No.

CYNDANE: Lucky for you, because you’d probably lose.

before hanging it in its place on the wall. She scowled at her reflection in the full length mirror.

CYNDANE (screaming): Not the generic scene of the Sue looking at herself in the mirror! We don’t bloody CARE how she looks!

MOGHEDIEN: Is that steam coming out of your ears?

She had always considered herself too fair.

CYNDANE: Sheep swallop! It’s another Mary Sue with low self-esteem!

MOGHEDIEN: Mother’s milk in a cup! It’s another Mary Sue who thinks she’s ugly, even when she’s obviously exotic-looking!

Light skin, made far paler by years spent beneath the mountain.

MOGHEDIEN: Yes, I always politely asked the Great Lord to install a tanning salon in Shayol Ghul, but he never listened. How irritating.

Red hair, dark, as if stained with blood - her mother’s hair.

CYNDANE (as bald mother): You’ll be punished for stealing my hair; you mark me, you will!

MOGHEDIEN: Didn’t Aginor say that an unprecedented number of Mary Sues had dark red hair?

Other than the hair, she was almost a carbon copy of her father. Funny that it had taken her so many years to see it.

MOGHEDIEN: It’s also funny that you couldn’t even put that last clause in the previous sentence.

She heard the door open, and felt invisible fingers run down her arms, raising the hair on the back of her neck.

MOGHEDIEN (gasp): It’s a ghost! Asmodean’s back from the dead!

CYNDANE (rolling her eyes): We’re ALSO back from the dead, you idiot.

“It would be nice if you could knock before barging into my private quarters.”

CYNDANE: Well, LOGICALLY, if this person’s invisible, they’re a GHOST, and so they don’t NEED to knock.

MOGHEDIEN: Cyndane, stop putting random words all in capital letters.

A low, masculine chuckle answered her.

MOGHEDIEN (chuckling): Your time has come to die, you fiend!

He let the door close behind him. “Quite a performance in there today.

CYNDANE: “I mean, when you started stripping to the music and then humping a dead Myrddraal, I thought I would pass out from pure pleasure…”

MOGHEDIEN (whistle): That’d be some performance, all right.

Whose idea was the blindfold?” He crossed the room to wrap his arms around her

CYNDANE: Neck, choking her to death.

“Mine,” she answered, “I get bored.

CYNDANE: “I was feeling horny, and this dead Myrddraal was the most convenient thing around…”

It was still only a waste of a Trolloc.”

MOGHEDIEN: Oh, so it was a TROLLOC? I can’t say that’s any better.

“Aginor agrees with you, of course,

CYNDANE: Well, why shouldn’t he? Aginor was interested in the Mary Sues; he always admired the authors that created them.

MOGHEDIEN: I distinctly remember him saying he wished he had some in the War three thousand years ago.

CYNDANE: Bloody madman. He should try sitting through this fic and see how he likes it.

but we must give our little warrior

(Both Chosen retch)

some practice, mustn’t we?”

CYNDANE (aside): “And then, of course, there’s the hope that one day you’ll get yourself killed and we’ll finally be rid of your revolting presence…”

She pushed him away from her and turned to face him. His smug expression and his sarcasm angered her.

CYNDANE: Anger? Uh oh…

MOGHEDIEN: Yes, there’s nothing worse than an angry Sue throwing a tantrum. Even Nynaeve al’Maera wouldn’t want to mess with one.

CYNDANE: Still, I think it’ll give us some laughs!

“You have no right to talk down to me, Ared.

MOGHEDIEN: Oh, this is Rahvin she’s talking to.

CYNDANE: Why is she taking so long to introduce her characters? In this case, it’s not dramatic; it’s just annoying.

I’m not a child any more.”

CYNDANE (rolling her eyes): Of course, when she says THAT, you realize right away that she’s about eighteen at most, and as immature as they come.

“No,” he agreed, scowling slightly at her use of a name long since left in the dust.

MOGHEDIEN: Just like this theater…(sneeze)…typical, that Moridin couldn’t even put us some place comfortable to suffer through this.

MORIDIN’S VOICE: That defeats the purpose of suffering, you fool. Now, READ.

His dark eyes traveled slowly down her body. “No, Rhiannon, you are no child.”

MOGHEDIEN (gagging): That last sentence and comment were a bit TOO cheesy!

She relaxed slightly and allowed him to pull her

CYNDANE: Head off and throw it to the Trollocs.

against him again. He reached up to massage her shoulders.

MOGHEDIEN: “Reached up”? How tall IS this girl?

CYNDANE: Maybe she’s Aiel.

She let him work muscles sore from the day’s activities.

MOGHEDIEN: Aw, Rahvin’s humbling himself to serve as her masseur?

CYNDANE: Don’t even mention massages. I’ve got the threat of Moridin’s foot massages hanging over my head.

As he worked

CYNDANE: On his homework…

MOGHEDIEN: Out…

, he leaned in to kiss the back of her neck.

MOGHEDIEN: O-kay…

CYNDANE: Where is this coming from? Have I missed something?

She arched her back like a cat

MOGHEDIEN (as arched cat): Meeeerooowww!

CYNDANE: Perhaps this fic should have a message at the beginning: NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF THIS STORY.

and leaned into his touch.

CYNDANE: What part of the body is the “touch”?

MOGHEDIEN: Beats me.

Shifting her hips a bit, she pressed against him and heard a

CYNDANE: Fart.

sharp intake of breath.

CYNDANE (sigh): Wasted opportunity for comic relief.

Smiling at the predictability of

MOGHEDIEN: This fic?

his response,

MOGHEDIEN: Oh.

she turned to face him,

CYNDANE: But…she was already facing him!

MOGHEDIEN: I’m not even going to TRY to understand what kind of sexual positions this author has in mind.

keeping their bodies pressed together.

BOTH CHOSEN (as Rahvin and Rhiannon): Gur…bodies…pressed…argh…never…should have played…with…super glue…gack…

He leaned down to kiss her, tightening his grip

CYNDANE: Around her neck.

. She slipped her arms around his waist and returned the kiss eagerly.

MOGHEDIEN: “Take your damned kiss back; I don’t want it!”

Breaking off the kiss, he lifted her off her feet

MOGHEDIEN: Well, I would ASSUME that if he lifted her, he lifted her off her feet, but thanks for clearing up my doubts.

and carried her into the inner chamber, laying her

CYNDANE: That’s it?! You just cut the love scene short, just like that?!

on the bed.

MOGHEDIEN: Don’t worry; there’s more.

CYNDANE (scowling): I wasn’t worried; I was hopeful. Bloody ashes.

He slowly undressed her, teasing, tasting.

Pause.

MOGHEDIEN: So far, this is the dullest sex scene I have ever read.

CYNDANE: I think even Egwene al’Vere could read this without blushing.

When he had her completely naked,

MOGHEDIEN (as Rhiannon): Hey, you pig! Give me back my completely naked!

he paused to enjoy the sight of her spread out before him.

CYNDANE: Oh, that horny Rahvin; spread out before hims ALWAYS turn him on.

MOGHEDIEN: Hmmm…maybe you should have tried exposing your spread out before him to Lews Therin.

CYNDANE (dangerously): Mention that again, and you’re dead.

A moment he had shed his own clothes

CYNDANE: Right…that makes no sense at all.

and joined her on the bed, straddling her, dark hair framing his face.
“You are beautiful,” he murmured, reaching down to stroke her cheek.

MOGHEDIEN (sickened): I just vomited in my mouth again.

She closed her eyes and shifted her hips impatiently, reaching for his cock.

CYNDANE: His SWORD, author, his SWORD. Remember the foreplay?

MOGHEDIEN (as Rhiannon): Yikes, your sword is bigger than mine!

He caught both her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head leaning down to ravage her mouth.

MOGHEDIEN: Oh, great; and while he ravages her mouth, run-on sentences begin to ravage this story.

CYNDANE: Who’s the grammar fanatic now?

“In a hurry, love?” he murmured against her lips.

CYNDANE: I don’t know about Rhiannon, but I’M certainly in a hurry to get through this. I was never interested in hearing about Rahvin’s love affairs.

MOGHEDIEN: And it’s even less interesting since the author is making no effort to put in any erotic description.

She twisted in his grip, attempting to free her hands. He held her fast

MOGHEDIEN (as Rhiannon, angrily): You bloody thief! First you steal my completely naked and now you steal my FAST as well?! I got that fast out of a stasis-box; I can’t find any other! Give it back to me right now!

and moved his other hand down her

CYNDANE (hopefully): Throat!

body, between her legs.

BOTH (disappointed): Oh.

She gasped as he slipped two fingers into her.

CYNDANE (as Rahvin): Haha! I cut a hole in your stomach and slip my fingers in! Pain, Mary Sue, pain!!

MOGHEDIEN (rolling her eyes): She means that he slipped his fingers into her vagina.

CYNDANE (frustrated): Well, why in the Pit of Doom didn’t she say so?! Why is this fic rated NC-17, then?

A pleased smile danced across his sensual lips

MOGHEDIEN (as dancing pleased smile): You do the hokey-pokey and you turn yourself around…that’s what it’s all about!

as she opened to him

CYNDANE: Spraying blood over his face from her half-opened stomach.

. His fingers worked her into a frenzy as his mouth moved across her throat and down to her breasts.

MOGHEDIEN (scowl): That’s it? No details on how he teased her nipples to rock hardness and squeezed with his fingers her red, wet…

CYNDANE: Gah…just stop talking.

She felt the liquid heat pooling in her belly ignite

MOGHEDIEN: Oh, dear me. She’s been drinking gasoline again.

CYNDANE: She must have accidentally channeled Fire to light it.

and heard his name on her lips as the world shattered.

CYNDANE (as Rhiannon): RAHVIN!!! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THAT GASOLINE WAS UNSAFE TO DRINK?!

MOGHEDIEN: And the world shattered. Rhiannon was dead. The end.

Gasping, she collapsed

CYNDANE: Into a heap of bloodstained flesh covered with ashes.

back onto the sheets, now drenched in sweat.

CYNDANE: And blood, and ashes, and gasoline, and…

MOGHEDIEN (rolling her eyes): Give it a rest, Cyndane. She’s not dead.

“Perfect...” she heard him say against her lips, as his cock replaced his fingers.

MOGHEDIEN (as Rahvin, staring in horror at the cock now attached to his hand): Argh! Where’d my fingers go?! How am I going to live without fingers or opposable thumbs?!

CYNDANE (as Rahvin): Argh! Now my fingers are between my legs! This is horrible! I’ll have to pull down my breeches whenever I have to pick something up!

MOGHEDIEN (as Rahvin): What if I have an orgasm and my hand sprays semen everywhere?!

He released her wrists

CYNDANE: Well, obviously! His cock replaced his fingers, remember?

and leaned back on his knees, sliding into her with long, slow strokes.

CYNDANE: Er…could you possibly use any other word besides slide? I’m picturing a book sliding into a bookcase, which isn’t exactly what you’d call erotic.

His eyes were half closed as he fought his own desire.

Silence.

MOGHEDIEN: Ever heard of anyone trying to fight his desire in the middle of sex, Cyndane?

CYNDANE: Nope, and especially not Rahvin.

She felt the heat rekindle, somewhere deep inside of her.

MOGHEDIEN (as Rhiannon): Oh, no…the gasoline in my stomach is igniting again!

A shudder tore through her body.

MOGHEDIEN (as the shudder): Free! Free at last!

CYNDANE: Oh, you mean tore through; like that alien in the film Moridin was watching the other day?

He opened his eyes then, and smiled down at her, obviously enjoying the sight of

CYNDANE: The rare alien known as the “shudder” climbing out of her stomach and dancing.

her writhing body beneath him.

MOGHEDIEN: Oh, my…I think she’s got more aliens in there!

CYNDANE: What on earth does this girl EAT?!

He leaned forward and quickened the pace.

CYNDANE: Er…pace of what?

She struggled to meet each powerful thrust, thrashing beneath him.

CYNDANE: Oh! (laughing): I almost forgot this was a sex scene. I was so caught up in my wonderful thoughts of aliens and gasoline…

MOGHEDIEN (suspiciously): Are you Semhirage in disguise?

She heard his breath catch

MOGHEDIEN: A fish.

in his throat and knew he was close...so close...

CYNDANE: So close…

MOGHEDIEN: So close…

CYNDANE: So…so…close…

MOGHEDIEN: Gah! Too many dots!

when the second peak hit her.

CYNDANE: Ouch! A peak of Shayol Ghul fell on her; that must have hurt.

MOGHEDIEN (as Rahvin, brushing dust and broken rock off himself): Bloody rockslides…well, better her than me…

Her fingers clenched around his shoulders.

CYNDANE (as Rahvin): Get off me! I’ll lift the rock off you; just be patient!

The pain set him hurtling over the edge

CYNDANE: Of a cliff!

MOGHEDIEN (as Rahvin): Whee!

and they collapsed onto the bed together.

MOGHEDIEN: Oh, bloody ashes, they had a soft landing? I was hoping they’d be mangled on the rocks below.

CYNDANE: You know, author, I think if you’d actually used such words as “orgasm” and “vagina”, we wouldn’t have made so many of these stupid jokes.

He rolled off of her and lay on his back, eyes unfocused,

MOGHEDIEN: Hmm…maybe it wasn’t such a soft landing after all.

CYNDANE (as dazed Rahvin): Battles are always hot…sweat heat, blood heat…blood was the price of Laman’s sin…yes, Kari, Rand is a good name…

savoring the moment.

MOGHEDIEN (as dazed Rahvin): I am floating in a beautiful, warm, green ocean…surrounded by little tiny seahorses…ohhhhmmm…

She snuggled against him, felt him reach up to stroke her hair. “That was incredible,” he told her. “You are incredible. You’re perfect.”

CYNDANE: “I love short sentences. I hate commas. I also hate semicolons. I sound wooden enough to pass for Pinocchio.”

MOGHEDIEN: Who’s Pinocchio?

When their breathing had returned to normal, and the intensity of the moment had faded,

CYNDANE (as Rahvin): Where are all the seahorses?

MOGHEDIEN (as Rhiannon): Oh, now I realize why my back hurts; I just crashed onto some sharp rocks.

she planted both palms on his chest

MOGHEDIEN (as Rhiannon): All right…spread some dirt there on your chest, tuck the baby palm trees into the dirt, and pat them down firmly. Be sure to water them every day.

and pushed away from him. “I need a bath. I smell like sex, sweat, and burnt Trolloc.”

CYNDANE (announcer’s voice): This perfume is NOT available at your local drugstore.

He caught her wrist as she tried to get out of the bed,

MOGHEDIEN: Pulled her to the Pit of Doom, and tossed her into the lava.

“I had hoped to spend some time with you before I return. I do miss you terribly.”

BOTH: Snort!

“Then tell Him to let me visit you in...

MOGHEDIEN: The Waste.

CYNDANE: Shara.

wherever you’re holed up right now.”

MOGHEDIEN: In your arse! Ha!

CYNDANE: How can you be going mad this early?

He hesitated, only an instant, but hesitation nonetheless before answering,

MOGHEDIEN: “Another universe…and I’m not telling you where…if you want to find me, well, you’re out of luck…”

“Caemlyn, love. And I don’t ‘tell’ Him anything.

CYNDANE: Oh, I agree with you there; it’s always a bad idea to “tell” Him things…who’s “Him” anyway?

I don’t think our Lord is quite ready to let you go yet.”

CYNDANE (as Rahvin): Of course, this isn’t necessarily because he wants to get rid of you on his own… (cough).

“I wish he’d send me somewhere.

CYNDANE: Oh, he will, darling; he will. With any luck, he’ll send you down into the fires of the Pit of Doom.

I’m going up the walls

CYNDANE: She can climb up walls?! Is this yet ANOTHER one of her Mary Sue powers?!

just sitting around here with nothing to do.”

MOGHEDIEN (scowl): Spoiled brat. She just received praise from the Great Lord himself and had sex with a Chosen, and she’s complaining that she has nothing to do?

CYNDANE: I hate her more with every paragraph.

“Patience, Rhiannon. You need to learn patience.”

MORIDIN’S VOICE: I must agree with him, girls. You both need to learn patience.

CYNDANE: You! What are you doing?!

MORIDIN’S VOICE (chuckling): Having a good laugh at your expense. Now, as I said, don’t be so impatient. You won’t finish quickly with all three chapters just because you want to.

She laughed. “Coming from you, that’s quite funny.

MOGHEDIEN: Hilarious.

CYNDANE: Hysterical.

MOGHEDIEN: Rib-tickling.

CYNDANE: Knee-slapping.

MOGHEDIEN: Laugh-out-loud.

CYNDANE: Oh, blood and ashes, that’s all I remember from the the’saur’us.

MOGHEDIEN: Well, I think we both agree that it’s not funny.

Now let go of me, and get out so I can get cleaned up.”

CYNDANE (sniff): Imperious little whore.

“You want me to go?” he looked as though she had struck him.

MOGHEDIEN (as Rhiannon): No, I was just testing you to see if you’d follow my orders! (giggle): That was a pretty stupid question, wasn’t it, Rahvin?

“Yes, I do.”
Another sigh.

CYNDANE: Wha-wha-what? When was the first sigh?

MOGHEDIEN: Why is he sighing at all? I would be cheering.

“Very well.” He leaned down to kiss her gently before releasing her

CYNDANE: Into the care of a Myrddraal, and then into a Trolloc cook pot...

MOGHEDIEN (rolling her eyes): Oh, honestly; can’t you think of anything more original than that?

He left. She called one of the servants and ordered them to bring water.

MOGHEDIEN: She forgot how to use commas. The sentences became short. And annoying. And painful to read.

She was in the process of heating it when

CYNDANE: A Trolloc came in, stuffed her into the boiling water, and ate her. The end.

the door swung open again, and

MOGHEDIEN: Hit her in the head, knocking her unconscious.

her father strode into the room.

MOGHEDIEN: I hope the Great Lord punishes whoever let a Mary Sue and her father in.

“Does anyone around here ever knock?” she snarled.

MOGHEDIEN: Now, now; we shouldn’t NEED to knock. We don’t need locks on our doors; we’re one big happy family of Chosen, and we should just be friends and live together in harmony!

CYNDANE: Shut up! Stop repeating what Ishamael used to say; he was just mocking us, anyway.

MOGHEDIEN: I know; I was just mocking Mary Sue.

“I only wished to discuss your performance earlier,

MOGHEDIEN (gasp): Her FATHER saw her little display with the dead Myrddraal? How embarrassing!

CYNDANE (grinning): Let’s see her try to wriggle out of this one…

but if I have interrupted something...”

CYNDANE (as Rhiannon): Nothing, just my Mary-Sueishness.

“No, it’s fine. Have a seat,” she gestured at the chairs. He did so, stretching his legs out before him.

MOGHEDIEN (as Rhiannon, looking at the disembodied legs on the floor in front of her): Eek!

She took a seat across from him. Except for her hair, they were mirror images of each other.

MOGHEDIEN: Also except for the fact that they were different sexes…that’s an important point you left out, author.

The hair....and the scar.

CYNDANE: Oh, no. You MUST be joking…Sammael is her father?!

MOGHEDIEN: None. Of. The. Chosen. Had. Children. This is going to be much worse than I thought.

“You were sloppy out there today. You dropped your weapon. If you had been paying attention, you would have known where that blow was coming from. You must pay attention to what you’re doing Rhiannon. In battle you have no room for mistakes. You were angry and I could see it in the way you moved. The torch was a nice recovery, but not one you can rely on.”

CYNDANE: Oh, what a relief. This isn’t Sammael as WE know him, but ROBOT-Sammael, who naturally talks in random, unconnected sentences.

MOGHEDIEN (as Robot-Sammael): Krrrssh…exterminate…krrrrsh…Mary Sue…krrsh…

She stared at the floor between her feet

MOGHEDIEN (as Rhiannon): Owwwwww!

CYNDANE: What?

MOGHEDIEN: The floor’s between her feet; her feet are on either side of the floor…her legs are stretched to the breaking point!

CYNDANE: Sometimes I wonder about you, Moghedien.

as he lectured. “I need something to do.”

CYNDANE (as Robot-Sammael): Okay, then, here’s something you can do; you can dress up in a French maid’s outfit and go serve the Myrddraal some oosquai.

MOGHEDIEN (as Robot-Sammael): Or, if you don’t like that idea, you can try taking on five thousand Trollocs instead of just one.

“Other than Rahvin, you mean,” he bit the words out.

MOGHEDIEN (makes crunching sounds)

CYNDANE (as Robot-Sammael): These words take a long time to chew.

“What he and I do is none of your business.”

CYNDANE (as Robot-Sammael): Er…considering the facts that, number one, you’re supposedly my daughter, and number two, he’s about fifty times your age, then yes, I would say that it IS my business. You’re going to have to come up with a better response than that.

“It is when it interferes with your training.

CYNDANE (looking sick): Er…what kind of training IS this?

MOGHEDIEN: Get your mind out of the gutter before I get sick!

He is not to be trusted, Rhiannon.”

MOGHEDIEN (snort): Oh, that’s a fatherly response right there. No mention of how much younger she is than Rahvin, or how his daughter shouldn’t be having sex without protection, but he is not to be trusted.

CYNDANE: Since when was Sammael the fatherly type anyway?

MOGHEDIEN: Never. And the author should have remembered that.

She laughed. “And you are? Any of you? You tell me one person I can trust and I’ll call you insane or a liar.

CYNDANE: Oh, the great Mary Sue! She’s so wise and eloquent she makes everyone around her look like retarded Trollocs!

MOGHEDIEN: I love how Sammael is talking in random, unconnected sentences and saying such unoriginal things as “He is not to be trusted”, while his “daughter” is the eloquent one. Why? To make her look even more intelligent!

Everyone of you is by definition, untrustworthy.

CYNDANE: Apparently, so is the spacebar, at least to this author.

Hence the reason you have been oath bound and I have not.

MOGHEDIEN: Er…what?

CYNDANE: HENCE THE REASON…

MOGHEDIEN: No, I got that; it just doesn’t make any sense.

CYNDANE: Oh. I see what you mean.

As for Ared, I know what he wants;

CYNDANE: Really? Great Lord, do you really need to state the obvious?

whatever he may believe, he’s not exactly a master of subtlety.”

CYNDANE: Oh, that’s right; make your Sue a MISTRESS of subtlety in order to make her extra-perfect! Great Lord, were ALL these Sues alike?!

MOGHEDIEN: All right; she can fight with a sword, channel, is beautiful, and is supposedly intelligent and perceptive as well? Mia’cova, may I please go stab myself with a fork?

MORIDIN’S VOICE: No.

“And what do you want?”

BOTH CHOSEN: To balefire this fic into the next universe!

“I want out from under this bloody mountain.

MOGHEDIEN (as Sammael): All right; I’ll send you into the Blight to fight Trollocs and Myrddraal all by yourself…

I want something to test my skills,

MOGHEDIEN (as Sammael): As I was saying…

something real, something other than what I’ve dealt with for eighteen years.

CYNDANE: How about something to shut you up?

(Moghedien pantomimes stuffing a gag into her mouth)

I have the skills I need. What I don’t have is experience.”

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do,”

MOGHEDIEN: “I have to decide whether to send you to Seanchan or into the Blight or into the Waste or just into the Pit of Doom.”

he rose smoothly

CYNDANE: But not roughly.

MOGHEDIEN: Or bumpily.

and made as if to exit. He paused by the door. “Leave him alone, Rhiannon. That’s my final word on this matter.” Then he was gone.

CYNDANE (grimly): And so were our brain cells…

MOGHEDIEN: And our faith in humanity…

MORIDIN’S VOICE: Well, the chapter’s finished. Now, how about that foot massage you promised me, Cyndane?

CYNDANE: I didn’t promise it!

MORIDIN’S VOICE: All right, all right, fine. So I’m sure you won’t mind beginning the next chapter right now…

CYNDANE: I’m coming! I’m coming!

MORIDIN’S VOICE: That’s my girl. And you, Moghedien; you can go ahead and fetch me some kaf…and after that, you should get around to scrubbing the floor. Of course, if you want to continue with the next chapter yourself…

MOGHEDIEN (sulkily): No, Mia’cova.

(Lights come on as the two mindtrapped Chosen exit the theater)

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