The Quest for the Add in the Paper

[ωΘĿƒ]

All was well and fine in the press room. All as it should be. The papers were printing, the writers scribbling frantically for their columns, while the editors typed and the journalists bickered over what scandalous story should go where. Everyone was busy, and everyone was in too bad a mood to be reasonable with the guy next to him because the coffee pot had broken earlier that week and caffeine-addicted tensions were running high. There was even talk of venturing into the faculty lounge and stealing their coffee maker, but all in vain as it turned out. The writers just wanted to find another thing to argue about, and the commandeering of the teacher's coffee pot was just another debate that would be short lived and pointless.

This was the daily lives of the writers of the paper. That is, this was the daily life until Ezekiel Christopher Damion burst through the door, Illia in arm, and shattered the bickering madness into silence.

"Listen up paper geeks!" He barked, authority dripping form hi swords. "We need and add and we need it now! Got that?!?"

He thought he'd done a good job, but everyone was looking at him like he was an idiot, which, at that point he did feel a lot like one. Oh well. The damage was done...

"No, seriously. Where do we go to place an add?"

A small, round faced little unicorn journalist stepped up to them both, appraising them with a tired eye.

"Do you mind? Some of us are still crashing here."

He was of course speaking of the coffee drought.
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[Iƪƪia]

With a sigh, Illia disengaged herself from Z. Talk about starting off on the wrong foot. Glancing at the many pairs of eyes on them, she stepped up to the journalist. Looking at him through innocent eyes, she smiled invitingly.

"I'm terribly sorry for the rude interruption, sir," She tried to make her voice as non-threatening as possible, "But we really do need to take out an add... It's very important... to me."

She clasped her hands together in a dramatic, pleading gesture. Leaning forward slightly, she dropped her voice to little more than a whisper.

"I would really appreciate it," She said, batting her eyelashes playfully.

[ωΘĿƒ]

The round faced unicorn boy was in no mood for Illia's sweet talk. He replied curtly and tottered away before he was finished speaking.

"Third door on the left. Writer's in there to take your add."

Z only colored a little at the rest of the press room before turning back to Illia.

"Sorry. Got carried away." He tried to keep his face straight. "Maybe you should do the talking form now on? They seem to like you more."

He caught a glimpse of the ravenous, coffee-starved journalists and resisted the urge to double take.

"Well... as much as they can like anyone... They look a little vicious to me."

[Iƪƪia]

She frowned at the retreating journalist. How dare he ignore her like that? She looked around at the others. Well, perhaps it's not that unbelievable. They did look... Horrid. Turning away from them she took Z by the hand and led him in the direction the unicorn had pointed out.

"Yes, I'll... Do my best," She replied.

Taking one last look around the room, she scowled at the unicorn journalist before flinging open the door and disappearing inside.

[ωΘĿƒ]

Inside, there was a single haggard man typing frantically at an old style typewriter. He didn't look up as the two entered, even when Z closed the door loudly to attract his attention. Already, the noise from the bickering of outside the room was beginning to pick up again. It was clear by the way that the man had ignored the sounds that he had learned to tune them all out.

"Um-"

Z stopped himself before he could get anything out. Illia was the talker, he was just the muscle in case any of these goons got violent, which, he did not look forward to. They might be paper nerds, but they looked hungry and angry enough to gobble him up. He held a hand out for Illia to take the lead with the tired old man, stepping back and trying to stifle the urge to make noise.

"Go get 'em, tiger."

Oops. He tried not to say anything else.

[Iƪƪia]

Illia nodded and casually sauntered over to the man. He continued typing. Even when she stopped next to him, he didn't look up. She rolled her eyes, the click of the typewriter beginning to annoy her. Quickly, she cleared her expression of any form of anger as she ambled around the table. She squatted down, placing both hands atop the table as she made eye contact with the man. Finally succeeding in capturing his attention, she smiled.

"I'm very sorry to interrupt you, sir," She began in an innocent voice, "You must be extremely busy, so I won't take up much of your time. I would like to take out an add in the paper, if it's not too much trouble?"

[ωΘĿƒ]

The man barely noticed her, instead taking the break o wipe his spectacles clean.

"Why certainly, young miss. Tell me what you'd like, and I'll get it on print for you."

All formalities, of course. He had loads of work, none of which was going to be placed aside for this one add. Interestingly enough, Z sensed this in the man, and was just able to stifle a growl of contempt. Instead, he whispered in Illia's ear.

"He's gonna need a little more incentive than that."

He tried being helpful without getting in her way. He just couldn't seem to shut up. Hmm... Were there any staplers around?

[Iƪƪia]

Illia bit her lip, trying to think of her next move. Strangely enough, these journalist types were tough to crack. Well, if they won't be swayed by charm... Illia placed a hand on one side of the typewriter, heaving it off to the side. She leaned onto the table, staring directly into the man's eyes. Already, she could feel the moisture forming in her eyes.

"Please sir, I don't think you understand how important this is!" She began in a broken voice, making overly theatrical gestures.

"It's imperative that we get this add immediately!" She continued, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks, "It's very near to my heart, and if we don't get that add I - I can't even think about it! Please! PlEaSe, HeLp mE!"

She buried her face in her hands, shoulders heaving with the heavy sobs that shook her body.

[ωΘĿƒ]

(omg that was beautiful! XD It should win an oscar!)


The man's head whipped up instantly, the sounds of Illia's tears bringing him out of his writer-trance.

"Oh! you poor thing!" He cried. "Those young whippersnappers will be all over ye if you cry! Like piranhas to blood! please don't cry, dear! OH, I remember when journalism used ot be a good practice! Oh, don't cry! We'll get you your add, I promise."

Z sat there, leaning against the wall, his face perfectly blank. He had the inexplicable urge to applaud, but he'd keep it back for the good of the quest. The man seemed like he was ready to crack.

"Let's go now, dear." The man said, shoving his huge stack of paper aside in a mesmerizing compassion for Illia's crocodile tears. "Let's have that add."

He sat ready, at his typewriter. Loyal as a hunting dog. Z reminded himself to bring Illia along next time he dealt with journalists. Or anyone else he needed something from, for that matter.

[Iƪƪia]

(Lol! Thank you! *Bows*)

Illia wiped her tears as she fought to control her breathing... Or at least act like she was. With a trembling hand she brushed her hair from her face. Taking a deep breath, she began contemplating the add.

"Th - thank you," She stuttered, "Um... I would like it to read like this:

We have a need for a small group of brave and strong volunteers to take part in a very important project. Fighting experience is preferred but we will accept those who have any sort of useful, almost inhuman - put that word in italic - skills. Keep in mind, that our project might prove difficult, however, all those who join us will be rewarded handsomely - Could you make that word bold? - All those who are interested please meet with us... Um... In front of the Academy, after classes on Friday, and you will be given more information."

Illia leaned back, pleased with the result.

"I - I think that's it," She wiped away the final remnants of her tears, "Thank you."

[ωΘĿƒ]

The man took everything down studiously, nodding and making sure that Illia wasn't going to break down crying again. Z peeked over his shoulder occasionally, while trying to remain as discrete as possible. When the add was finished, the man rushed out of the room, yelling behind him as he did.

"I'll get it to the editor-in-chief and out to circulation in no times! Don't you worrry your pretty little head, deary!"

Once the man had stumbled out, almost knocking Z over in his haste, the dragon rubbed his chin in amusement.

"Nice. Very nice. We'll get all the kids we need with that add, and the way you put the secret meanings won't get us in any trouble either. Not a human soul will know."

He tipped his head sightly.

"Just one problem... Where's the handsome reward coming from?"

[Iƪƪia]

Once she was sure the journalist was out of earshot, Illia walked over to Z, smiling broadly. The reward was the easy part. She wasn't particularly keen on giving anything of hers away, it did serve a higher purpose. She put one hand on his shoulder, winking at him as she did, and extended her other hand for him to see. A gold band rested upon her index finger with a too-large diamond adorning it. She tapped the gem with her other finger gleefully.

"Twenty-four carat gold, three carat brilliant-cut diamond," She explained, "And there's much more where this came from."

[ωΘĿƒ]

Z looked taken aback.

"You're paying for it? With your jewels?! I won't have it!"

Instantly, he fished out a little something from his pockets. It was hidden in the palm of his hand, so she couldn't see it yet. He wondered if he should even tell her....

"Well, um, Illia?"

He coughed, clearing the feeling of suffocation from his throat.

"You know how everyone in the staff goes around calling me "Master Damion" and all that? Well, there's a reason for it. I'm.... I'm sorta really important in the dragon community."

He held out his hand, revealing a small, silver and gold emblem. It was small, about the size of his palm, but it was ornately designed in the form of a coiling dragon, wings splayed, a huge ruby wrapped among the coils of its body.

"This is the fire dragon ambassador's emblem. It's sorta my family symbol. It gives me a bunch of cool political powers and stuff, but more importantly, it means whatever I want I sort of get. Just like that."

He snapped his fingers.

"So... pretty much I'm unimaginably rich... Don't sell anything of yours please."

His voice got a little more confident.

"I'll pick up the tab."

[Iƪƪia]

Illia snapped up the emblem as soon as Z opened his hand, much like a snake snaps up it's prey. She held it flat in her palm as she appraised it carefully. Her mouth parted slightly as she confirmed the value of the beautiful gem. Unbelievable! All this time she had been with a jewel mine? And she didn't even know it?! Her mouth turned upward in a crooked smile. So he could get whatever he wanted? Her eyes sparkled greedily as she imagined the rows upon rows of precious gems... Quickly, she snapped out of her daydream, composing her self as she returned her gaze to Z.

"Oh, well... I - I really have more than enough jewels," She began, hoping he hadn't noticed her momentary lapse in concentration. She held out her hand to return the emblem to him. "But if you don't mind, that would be greatly appreciated."

She smiled at him, gazing into his dark brown eyes, trying not to imagine them as shining topaz.

[ωΘĿƒ]

Z caught the look in Illia's eyes for that instant, but he misinterpreted it.

To tell the truth, Z hated his status. Sure, it was cool to have the history, and the money and favors were pretty awesome, but it just made his parents more busy, and sent him to more crappy boarding schools like this one. He thought Illia was concerned about him being pompous. He wasn't pompous! Not at all!

"Trust me, it isn't a problem." He shrugged. He took the time to calm himself, and instantly, it made more sense to him how Illia had reacted.

Oh... She liked jewels, did she? Z inched the priceless artifact out of Illia's hand, grinning mischievously.

"You know, since we're sort of close, it would make sense that I'd buy lots of jewelry for you... It's what a gentleman of my standing should do for a lady, after all."

He cleared his throat again.

"Not that I'm some rich idiot." He wanted to make that clear. Very clear. He wasn't one of those people. He wasn't like his cousins, his parents. He was out in the world alone, and he would act like it.