This project has a couple of names. "Authoress Tripe," "Self-Insert Tripe," in the handwritten form I simply title it, "Tripe."

The reason I'm writing this one is that my creative spirit suffered quite badly in a real-life struggle I had recently. The poor thing is huddled in the corner in a puddle of its own blood. This is a 'project of least resistance' in an effort to rehabilitate my creative spirit. It's going to be one of those unending PWP's that will end up collapsing in on itself. In this case, it's going to be a case of "Yes, it's bad. Carry on regardless." Actually, it's a miracle if it makes any sense half of the time. Warning: this fic does go through the 'does it make the eyes bleed' test, but sometimes it just squeaks by with a pass.

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Kain stood in the middle of a grassy meadow. A frown of confusion slowly dawned on his heavily ridged face. He glanced over his shoulder, sneering as he confirmed that the Soul Reaver was not there. The last thing he remembered was standing in the ruins of the Vampire Citadel, surveying the freshly collapsed pillars and reflecting on Raziel's sacrifice.

The meadow stretched to the horizon, each direction exactly the same. Seeing no variation in the undulating grasses, Kain simply picked a direction at random and began walking.

Occasional trees and boulders dotted the landscape, but they were not enough to prevent the lethargy of walking for so many hours in such a desolate place. Kain doubted his senses when he thought he saw a person walking through a depression in the landscape.

"Raziel?" Kain questioned. His voice was not loud enough to carry, but the figure turned towards him anyway.

"Kain? I thought you were dead." It was Raziel. Through some trick of acoustics, Kain could hear Raziel's voice as if they were standing right next to each other instead of trying to close the distance.

Kain did not bring up the point that it was Raziel who was supposed to be dead. Instead Kain asked, "How did we get here?"

Raziel shrugged, his bony frame amplifying the gesture. "The last thing I remember is fighting with Janos. A hylden had taken over his body when the pillars fell."

Kain regarded his childe with a cool stare. Raziel had no idea of what he would willingly do. At length, Kain said, "We must figure out a way to return to Nosgoth."

It was then that I decided to make my presence known. I had been observing them from atop a large stone block. It was not a hiding place, but they also hadn't noticed me. The first words that I said to them were, "Please don't hurt me."

I was foolish not to expect Kain's response. He telekinetically yanked me from my perch and held me suspended in front of him. The sensation was mildly painful, but I couldn't describe it beyond that.

"Who are you?" Kain growled.

I was mildly cheered; Kain was willing to ask questions first and kill later, unless I could talk him out of the killing part. "I know what you'd probably like to know. Call me Hillary."

Kain released his hold on me, and I dropped to the ground with an undignified flop. "Explain."

Some time later, Raziel asked, "So you're saying that this world is ruled by an entity called 'The Author,' and you're an avatar of that being. Kain and I are simply copies of the characters in your favorite story, and if we did return to Nosgoth, it wouldn't be the real one."

"Pretty much," I nodded.

"And if we kill you, then this 'Author' would simply lose interest and we'd cease to exist," Kain added. "What if I have no wish to participate in your little game?"

"You wouldn't even kill yourself to save the world," I pointed out angrily. "Are you willing to nullify your own existence just to spite someone who isn't necessarily your enemy?"

"I'd be willing to nullify my own existence simply to be rid of this form," Raziel spat.

"Let's not be hasty," Kain said to Raziel.

"Look, it's not that bad," I consoled. "The Author isn't evil. Look at me; I'm all sugar and milk toast. Do you really think you're going to end up wading through the underbelly of hell?"

Kain and Raziel exchanged some odd look. They weren't using the whisper, but communicating in a way that could only come from years of knowing each other.

"What is going to happen?" Kain asked.

"I'm not sure," I wheedled uncomfortably. "I've got some ideas, but there's no way to know which ones we'll actually see."

"Do you have any idea what's going to happen next?" Raziel asked.

"Well, we could wander around until something interesting happens," I suggested, "or we could go rescue Janos."

"What happened to him?" Raziel asked.

"He fell." I stopped, reluctant to tell Raziel the results of his actions.

It was Kain that said, "I met Janos roughly four centuries after my refusal at the pillars. I can only assume that he had been a prisoner of the hylden for all of that time. He had been free for only a day when he was cast into the dimension of the hylden's banishment. None of that was supposed to happen."

"That was why you were trying to stop me from reviving Janos?" Raziel questioned.

"Yes," Kain answered firmly. "I can only imagine what they are going to do with him."

"Then I think we should go rescue him," Raziel said.

"What are the dangers to us?" Kain asked.

I rocked my head in thought. "I'm sure we'll get out alive… well, however that word applies to you two."

We began walking, and soon came upon a sheer cliff rising out of the meadow. Technically, it should've been visible from Kain's original appearance point, as well as the place where we were talking, but this meadow was the equivalent of a blank canvas. Nothing existed until it was needed.

"We need to get on the other side of this cliff," I gestured.

"How?" Raziel asked. The walls were too sheer to scale.

I rooted around in my backpack and pulled out a coil of rope. "With this."