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 Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 1:00 pm
Oh my gosh. Uhhhh. My stories. Okay. MMMM. I'll post a few and you'll read, then tell me you hate them and I'll cry.
Okay?
Okay.
<3
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 1:02 pm
"You're disgusting! Go away!"
The sound of glass crashing awoke Henrik quicker than the young, violent voice that vibrated throughout the house. He was used to the screaming, however still hadn't grown accustomed to the breaking of various house objects. He doubted he'd ever get used to it, then again, he often underestimated the ability he had to adapt.
He never meant to adopt another child. He never really wanted to, either. He had wanted a break, yet the arrival of a young boy, abandoned by his previous Guardian, was shoved onto his life. He was not allowed to pause. He was not allowed to take a break. He had worked so hard to establish the job he had, and now he would pay.
Henrik worked in Clubs as a person that raised eggs that were found and could not be placed in a home immediately. Sort of like a foster parent, for half the time the hatched child would go to a new home when someone wanted him, but the other half of the time he literally raised the child until he was a late teen. He had liked children. Had was the proper word. Right now, he wanted to strangle them.
It had taken him a few years, but now he was worn down. When the most recent child had left the house he had been promised a break. He needed it. He was growing tense, growing tired and stressed and falling apart. He had been promised, and then a small boy arrived.
It was because no one would take him in, mostly. No one. It was considered that he'd be sent to the orphanage in Diamonds, or perhaps to someone in Spades, however the boy did not seem to like being moved much. He was highly reistent to change, and would flip the second the topic of moving him to another faction was brought up. Besides, he was a citizen of Clubs now, it took way to much effort and time to just transfer the boy. He was a special case, it seemed. No one wanted him because of this.
The boys name was Isaac. He was an Eeevee, a rare species. His previous Guardian had found an egg he liked more, and when it hatched he became attached to that child, and Isaac was sent away. Ditched, basically. Isaac had been known for being somewhat a problem, extremely affectionate to those he liked but also couldn't seem to string together a paragraph without cursing. It was thought that his previous Guardian cursed a lot, or simply brought company that Isaac copied.
The boy was hostile. The second he walked into the house he was cursing and breaking things, hollering and screaming. He was angry, Henrik guessed that much. He probably felt rejected, he was tempted to tell the child that he was about to be kicked out if he didn't shape up. God, he really needed to lose his temper, this wasn't helping the boy.
Rubbing his temples, the Umbreon rose from his bed, golden orbs rolling as fingers slipped through long black hair, watching it slip aside. He had thought, being once a young Eevee before, that this would be easier. No, it wasn't. He slipped down the narrow hall, not caring that he only wore boxers. The boy was already screwed up, he wouldn't give a s**t about his legs.
"Put some god damn clothes on!"
He was wrong. The boy was in the kitchen, and Sully was leaning against the doorway. His hand was bleeding. Henrik looked up, eyes locking on Sully. The pink haired man looked away, a faint blush on his cheeks when Henrik lifted the hand and licked the blood off. Henrik kept his mouth on the wound as his free hand rummaged for a bandaid in the nearest cupboard.
"That's disgusting! No one wants to see that!" The boy was grating on his nerves. He decided to try and ignore him, releasing Sully's hand and pressing the bandaid on. With this done, he turned around, facing the boy.
"I find the amount of hair gell you use disgusting. Change that, and I'll behave." He grumbled. The boy's eyes widened, touching his slicked back hair, cheeks turning a dark red.
"It's my damn hair!"
"It's my body and mouth."
"People wear clothes!"
"I'm wearing boxers. That is an article of clothing."
Isaac glared at Henrik, head snapping away and body flopping into a chair, kicking his feet onto the table. Henrik quickly shoved his feet off, in which Isaac slipped them right back on. Henrik gave him a narrowed glare, and slowly he cracked his knuckles. He had no intention of harming the boy, but those feet did leave his table. Turning to Sully, he rubbed his temples once more. "Do tell me what that crash was, Sully."
Sully glanced over at Isaac, grunting in the back of his throat. "There was just a little tiff, and a glass was dropped." Leave it to Sully to not rat another out. A tiff meant Isaac lashed out or simply slapped the glass off the table, but Sully wouldn't say. An assassin had to be good at keeping secrets, and it simply served to piss Henrik off when what he wanted was a proper answer.
"There seems to be a lot of those lately." With this, Henrik eyed Sully, sighing deep before standing and heading to the bathroom. "I'm going to shower. Try and contain your tiffs, boys."
Of course, Isaac let out a loud screech two minutes later, and he heard another item break.
- - - - - - - - -
Isaac hated this place, but then again, he hated all places. What he really wanted was to go back to Damian, his previous caretaker. He wanted to be loved and adored again, but that all changed. Now, he was here, and he hated here. Here meant a man that smelled of fruit and booze, and a pink-haired freak came to visit, often followed by a strange, green haired boy. He hated this place, and he hated Henrik.
Henrik he hated the most. He didn't even bother to pretend s**t, he was honest about his emotions. That drove Isaac insane, who couldn't be honest with himself about his own emotions. Why was Henrik so sure of himself when his only life was living in this shitty place, waiting for some stupid fricking pink-haired freak to visit him, and at times collecting a pay check for something Isaac didn't understand. No, he did. Henrik was being paid to raise him, and this made him hate him more. To make matters worse, not only was Isaac thrown aside but he was only being raised for cash. He wanted to stab the man.
He felt abandoned, and this fed an anger and pain that he had never felt before. He wanted to slam his fists into everything, wanted to break people before they could break him, and wanted to break what they loved. His anger was completely suffocating, and he wanted to either break himself or break another.
He hated how Henrik viewed that man, Sully. The freak. How Henrik stared at him and then would leap to his aid. Or how he looked at him as if he was the most important man ever, all behind narrowed eyes. Isaac hated it. He wanted to break it.
He was a mass of pure anger. And even when Henrik tried to care for him he snapped. He wanted to smother Henrik, and Sully. He wanted to kill this stupid affection they had. Maybe he was jealous... but he wasn't going to admit it.
Henrik was sleeping. He seemed to hate mornings. He rose mostly when it was evening or night. So, Isaac was left to his own devices. He sat there, at the table. Henrik had offered to let him sleep with him, but ******** that. Instead, he sat there. Quiet.
It was too quiet.
Something was wrong.
Something was really wrong.
Was someone watching him?
Was Henrik watching him?
Silence, he hated silence. He hated how accusing it was, how it seemed like it demanded something. It fueled the anger.
Silence.
.....
He needed noise.
He needed someone to yell.
He needed a voice.
It took him all of five seconds to rip the cupboard door off and launch it across the room, and one minute for Henrik to rush in.
- - - - - - - - -
Isaac had been acting up more lately. When the boy approached him and said: "You get paid to raise me." He could only nod. That had made the boy rip off his shower curtains. The boy had never asked why he was raising him....
Isaac was currently sitting across from him at the table. Henrik had been trying to have a break through, trying to get him to understand. But no. The boy had shut down. He sighed lowly, deciding to try another approach.
"You can't break things when you're angry. Perhaps, I can get you something to hit." Silence. Isaac was glaring, though. At least he was listening. It was then that Isaac suddenly dug his nails into the table, and then flipped his hands under, flipping it.
Henrik moved out of the way, watching as Isaac stood where he was, reaching for another object. A door. Henrik moved closer, yet Isaac whipped back, jabbing a knife at him.
"Leave me alone! You don't give a ********! It's all the ******** money! You don't actually care! How many times can I break these things?! You replace them in the end! As if they never mattered!"
"Because they don't matter."
"You replace things!"
"Yes. Things."
"I'm tired of you. I'm sick of this s**t."
"And why is that?"
Isaac was shaking. He was trembling and holding the knife too tight. Henrik knew in the end he was angering Isaac, and yet this was obviously the only way to draw out the emotions needed. Isaac gave him such a hateful stare, it was clear he was on the brink of either running or giving in. Finally, he let out a screech.
"You don't ******** give a s**t. The second I stepped in I was only money. I was and always will be the problem child. I hate all of you, but isn't that the point? Isn't that what was predicated? The second I was abandoned I heard the words "he's going to snap." "Poor child, he's going to have issues." Well here you go! I'm the issues they wanted! You replace things so easily, everyone does! Something better comes along, you leave the original! You can't deny it! Your precious Sully, who did he replace?! Wait, oh ho. This is perfect. "
A feral grin touched Isaac's face.
"You love him, but he doesn't know, am I right? Oh, this is why you're such a ******** mope! Perfect."
"Sully isn't the issue."
"Isn't he?! He'll replace you, too! Everyone in this world replaces! Items, pets, people! You replace until you can't find the best, and then you wish there was more! ******** all of you. ******** all of you! I don't want to be abandoned again! I don't want to be hurt again! I don't want to depend on anyone! ******** you all! I'll burn your faction down before I let you hurt me again!"
The boy had dropped the knife by this time, recoiled into himself. He was pressed into the cupboards, hands gripping his sides as if he depended on it. He was shaking as he screamed, and Henrik wondered if he was crying. He watched the boy quietly, watched as Isaac crumpled before him. Finally. He was given the truth, given the honest answer. What shook before him was not anything more than a hurt, lonely, and broken child. A child that was left behind, and had created a barrier to shun the others out.
It was then that Henrik reached out, wrapping solid arms around the trembling boy. The boy easily fit against his chest, and easily allowed the touch. They stayed that way for awhile, perhaps hours, until Isaac quietened and fell into a soft slumber against Henrik.
- - - - - - - - -
He was unsure if Isaac was better, or if the boy was too tired to continue the game. Either way, the boy had become less violent. There were times where he panicked, where he lashed out when he saw Henrik leave the room too soon, or when Henrik didn't reassure him like he wished. But there were more times where he smiled. Where he awkwardly but sweetly tried to assist Zale, Sully's boy, in making origami cranes. Where he would curse and rush over when he saw a child fall down and scrape there knees. There wasn't an immediate cure, but the best were never quick. Isaac certainly had issues, but he seemed more.... More...
Okay. He seemed more okay. That was the only word Henrik knew to describe it. The only word he knew. Not better, he should never have thought that before. Isaac was happier. Uncertain, but happier.
Perhaps Henrik was happier, too. Perhaps. He did smile more, too. And laughed more. He caught himself actually doing things he'd never do before. Even now, he was watching Isaac from the window, as if someone or something could hurt him when he was simply playing outside. As if someone could hurt his Isaac.
Wait.
His?
....
His Isaac.
Perhaps he might benefit better from calling Isaac his son instead of dodging around the word and saying "his".
- - - - - - - - -
Isaac watched Henrik carefully, returning with loot from his recent mission. Henrik never really approved of his thieving, but as a teen he was allowed to do as he wished. Besides, as long as Henrik was kept out of it he let it be.
The blue haired male considered asking what was wrong, though he could guess. Sully was about to go off on a mission. Henrik had used to work alongside Sully, he had discovered this a long time ago. Now, he was a care-taker, and while he liked his job, usually, Isaac had an idea Henrik missed those days, as well.
Or perhaps, he missed being beside Sully.
"Come on, stinky. You smell like booze, go shower." He was rewarded with a grunt. Lovely. Dropping the bag into his room, Isaac turned back to view Henrik. Worry was across his face, but it was clear Henrik was out of it. He should leave him be for the night. As he turned around, he heard Henrik move, and suddenly he was being hugged.
"Dad, you aren't normally a hugger."
"I know."
As Henrik went to his room to sleep, Isaac couldn't let go of the sickening feeling in his stomach.
- - - - - - - - -
Henrik had been missing for days.
Worry gathered in his stomach. Not only this, Zale was settled at his house, too. Sully was gone. At first, Isaac irrational thoughts had thought they must have eloped, Sully and Henrik. But, thanks to Zale's logic, neither were the type to do so. So, both boys sat there, waiting. Waiting for days. Neither could calm the others worries. Isaac was violently gouging the table with knives and forks, and Zale would sit quietly, eyes narrowed and breath low. They rarely moved. Sometimes, Isaac would stand up and rush to the door when he heard movement, but it was always the mailman. Zale cooked at times, but that was the only movements.
The two waited together, though nothing changed. Until one day, a frantic knock echoed on the door and it was Zale's turn to move forward. Isaac sat there, impatiently fidgeting.
Then the scream.
It was a foreign sound, but he knew it was from Zale's lips. As he rose and approached, he stopped dead cold. The other teenager was trembling, turning to Isaac and screeching words he barely understood. He didn't want to. He didn't like the grim look in the strangers eyes, or the way Zale crumpled to the floor. He didn't like how suddenly it was so quiet, how silence invaded his mind, shutting down his ears so he heard nothing when he could see lips moving.
The silence consumed everything, and his own scream came out hollow and distorted. He wished the silence had stopped Zale from speaking, perhaps he could have pretended then that nothing had changed.
Perhaps then he could pretend Henrik was still alive.
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 1:07 pm
.
"Amei." The first thing he said every morning was his Guardians name, pale eyes flicking open from under cold covers as pale skin shifted under the thin cloth. Quickly he was met with warm hands that slipped under the covers, tan fingers tapping his shoulders in reassurance. That was all Fakir needed, throwing the covers off and sitting up, allowing a long stretch as his Guardian slipped past him and into the depths of the house.
Every morning was the same, and Fakir was beginning to feel a flicker of guilt. It hadn't been his choice to be taken into the home of a fisher, nor his choice to be cared for by the tan man, yet it was his choice to stay. In the dead of the night he could slip away, leave Amei and return to him the quiet life he once had. Yet, everyday that this thought crossed his mind it was eradicated by warm green eyes that would view him as if he was a jewel. It was that warmth, that comfort, that feeling of home that made him stay, and even if Fakir found the multiple reasons to leave they were always pushed aside for the more favorable choice of staying where he was accepted.
The curtains were closed, blocking out any sunlight that threatened to leak into the room. Amei would close them when he heard Fakir speak, rousing from the chair that was placed in the corner just for Amei. He was a dedicated man, waking up just as the sun rose to slip into the room. The bed was positioned right out of the lights way, however the light would prevent passage to the door. Fakir had liked to keep the curtains pulled back at night, letting him view the moon and stars until he was lulled to sleep. Fakir had offered several times to simply never open the curtains, but Amei wanted Fakir to be comfortable. While Fakir was grateful, he still worried over the young fishers new life.
Pale feet touched the ground, directing him to the door and into the hallway. All the curtains were closed, except in the room that Fakir had never been in except once. Amei's room. Every time he passed that room and saw the light under the door it reminded him that Amei was not like him. While Amei adapted so Fakir could be comfortable, he still loved the sun. He needed it, and when he woke he woke to a morning warmer than Fakir's.
Cold feet crossed the old wooden floors, passing a few small rooms meant for books, or guests, or even holding fishing poles. Fakir's favorite room was still the miniature library, built just for him when he was only a small child, freshly emerged from his bottle. Amei had realized fairly quickly that Fakir could not go to school for various reasons, spending most of his hard earned money for Fakir to be able to teach himself when he went out to work.
"Good morning." Amei's voice floated from the kitchen, the sound of pans and smell of food enticing Fakir. However, he knew he would be eating the warm food. It wouldn't kill him, but they had discovered when he was small that it would greatly harm him, making him ill and transparent. As he slipped into the kitchen he was greeted with a bowl of fruit passed to him from tan hands, the blonde Amei busily cooking away from where he was. Even if Fakir couldn't eat most warm things this didn't stop him from cooking. Often, he'd let it cool off considerably for Fakir to eat. Fakir could eat food that had cooled off, mostly losing most of its warmth. This was another habit of Amei's that added to Fakir's guilt.
"Thank you, and good morning. Are you fishing today?" Taking a seat in a small, dark wooden seat, Fakir drew the chair close to the table once he had sat down, setting his bowl down in-front of him. Amei withdrew from the stove, apparently done with cooking, and prepared two plates for Fakir and Amei.
"You're welcome. Yea, tomorrow I'll go to the market, so while I'm out you should write up some things you need." Amei offered a warm smile to the other, rewarded with a small smile from Fakir. The pale male didn't touch his fruit as Amei sat down, slipping eggs towards Fakir despite how the cold teenager seemed uninterested in food.
Fakir rarely left the house, and only at night when he did. If he wore sunblock and various sun blocking clothes.... if he provided himself plenty of cool water... could he slip out in the day? Heavy lashes cast shadows on his cheek as the male stared at the table intently, lost in thought. Perhaps. Then again, he may become sick...
Sunlight drove Fakir mad. It would send shocks of pain up his spine until his body became a transparent, mist-like form. Then, if he stayed in the sunlight he'd grow ill, his body refusing to move much unless he found a way out of the sunlight. In extreme cases, Fakir would collapse, his mist-like form slowly fading. Amei had once saved him from a fate he didn't want to think about, in the very room now closed off to him. As a child, he had ran to Amei's room, captured in the sunlight that poured in the room. He had been perplexed, shocked when his body changed, and then frightened when he felt his body growing ill. He was lucky Amei was smart and calm, not panicking and instead closing the curtains. It was then the two had discovered that Fakir was best kept away from the sunlight. Light from lamps and ceiling fans didn't seem to bother him much, only causing slight discomfort at times if they were particularly bright. Heat seemed to make Fakir ill as well, though moderate temperatures seemed just fine for the male.
This made everyday life difficult for Amei, Fakir was sure. However, he never complained. Fakir tried not too, as well. Though, his life was becoming dull. The days of reading, drawing, waiting... they were growing weary. How long could he allow this life to continue? What of when he grew up completely? What then?
.... Was his life always like this? Would he always be like this? Forever? A creature that was strange, able to freeze mist and become it... never allowed outside? Never allowed in the sun? No. There had to be another way. There had to be a way to survive outside. He just hadn't discovered it.
"Fakir?" His eyes flashed, head raising to see a worried Amei. It took him a few seconds to realize he had dazed out, eyes narrowing gently.
"Forgive me.... I merely was thinking. Did you say something, Amei?" His voice drifted coldly from his mouth, mist following. He had a feeling his tone did not reassure Amei, green eyes lined with worry as they focused on Fakir's own pale eyes. To reassure the other, Fakir took a bite of fruit, though Amei did not smile. Sighing, Fakir shook his head, glancing down at his food. "The fruit is good."
Amei sighed, his voice falling to a lower, more defeated sound then Fakir's. Standing, he nodded, pushing his seat back. "I just asked if you'd like me to bring you back a fish, that's all. The fruit came from Gilly, she was worried about you." Gilly? Fakir raised his head, frowning. An older woman by the name of Gilly often came to visit when he was a child. Amei had needed her help with figuring out how to raise a child, and she had assisted, having raised a few kids of her own. Smiling, Fakir gave the fruit a more favorable approach, slipping a few more into his mouth.
"They are very good. Send her my thanks." Amei seemed happier now, thankfully, giving Fakir a smile in return before heading off to get dressed. It took only a few minutes, and then Amei returned, dressed and carrying a box and fishing poles.
"Come home safely." Fakir whispered as Amei left the door, lips drawing a tight line as he listened to the faint footsteps of Amei, until finally he was alone again.
- - - - -
Another book was set carefully down. Fakir the entire day, as usual, reading. Today was about the ocean, yet it did not calm him as books often did. He would never touch the ocean, would he? He would forever be in this house, until Amei grew tired of him, and then perhaps he'd be sent to another house. He loved being with Amei, yet this life... It was not natural. Perhaps he wasn't supposed to be born. Perhaps he was never supposed to touch this world. Was he a mistake? A being that fell apart in the sun, living in a world where the sun was the meaning of life for so many creatures. Even he couldn't truly live without the sun, for without it the world would be inhabitable. Yet here he was, a being that was broken and a burden.
No. Life wasn't worth it if he could not be a part of it. There was no life inside a house, never leaving, only reading and greeting Amei. What if Amei found someone he loved and left? What if he grew tired of caring for a mist being? What then? What would the Dust do? Rot here? Or...
His eyes glanced over to view the window, standing and retreating to his room. The afternoon sun was still up, perhaps he should test it. Searching throughout his room, he spotted a straw hat, nodding as he slipped it onto his head. Amei brought him plenty of clothes and accessories, Fakir always favored dressing up and wearing several types of jewels. Throwing on a kimono (which now that he thought about it must have been highly expensive for Amei) he headed for the window in his room, pausing.
If this didn't work, he'd always rot. Yet, the familiar fear touched his heart. He always viewed the sunlight as a demon wanting to devour him, it frightened him despite the protection he believed he had. Yet, pale arms threw open the curtains, wincing as sunlight showered down, quickly lowering his head so the hat protected his face.
One...
Two...
Three...
No pain, only the familiar tightness his skin felt when it felt warmth. This was enough for him to let out a cry of joy, an unfamiliar noise from his often calm mouth. He regretted it when he looked up and sun rushed into his eyes, his cry of joy becoming one of sharp pain, but as he closed the curtains the pain was quickly forgotten.
He wouldn't rot.
- - - - -
Amei had returned home. He had been surprised when he hadn't caught Fakir reading or drawing, for that was all Fakir ever did, and even more surprised when he gave Fakir a pair of glass earrings and the male only smiled and quickly slipped them into his room. Fakir had noticed Amei staring at him the entire night, and when he noticed Fakir was barely touching dinner, well, that staring had become intense.
"Today.... Today we saw a shadow in the woods." Fakir raised his head at Amei's words, his fingers impatiently drumming against the wood. Every night they took turns exchanging the events of the day. Fakir's always was about what he had read, Amei about what he had fished or bought, however this was new. Frowning, Fakir glanced down at his food.
"Did you catch it?"
"It was to big, and fast. We didn't even go after it. It was going in the direction of the town, I'm sure someone will either catch it or it'll be frightened of the noise. When I traded some fish for the earrings I heard someone's chickens were eaten, so it might be a large predator."
Nodding, Fakir went back to poking at his food. Amei set his silverware down, frowning at Fakir.
"Did you write the list of what you want from the market?"
"I forgot."
That stare. Fakir rarely forgot things, he didn't really have much to lure him away from the things Amei asked of him. Pale eyes raised, meeting green. Quietly, the two watched one another, and then Amei opened his mouth.
"What is goi-"
"Take me to the market tomorrow. Please."
Fakir burst out into laughter when he was rewarded with a perplexed, dumbfounded expression from Amei, both nearly choking on their food for different reasons.
- - - - -
"Amei." Once again, fingers touched his shoulders, Fakir rose, and their familiar routine followed. Greetings, small talk over breakfast, getting dressed. However, today Fakir dressed in a kimono, straw hat, and grabbed an umbrella to block the sun. Amei fetched canteens of water, and they met at the door. Amei had that familiar worried expression on his face, Fakir had his own pleased expression on his face.
"Are you sure?" Amei whispered, cut off by a gloved hand touching the door knob. Fakir gave a firm nod and opened the door. The blinding world caused a flinch through his thin body, yet hungry, eager eyes opened and sought out the world in-front of him.
His heart stopped briefly, mouth letting out a soft gasp. The world he had only seen at night was beautiful in the morning. All the colors, all the people... his heart hammered as he instinctively stepped closer to Amei, a thing he hadn't done since he was a child. Amei seemed relieved Fakir hadn't just fallen apart, smiling warmly as Fakir stepped from his side and began to walk forward.
The smells were the same, yet.... not. In this sunlight, even while protected, Fakir felt the warmth it radiated, and it didn't hurt. Humans seemed startled to see another body exit Amei's home, however not many commented on it. Amei began to head towards a dirt path and quickly, almost desperate, Fakir chased after him.
As they walked Fakir was greeted with the sight of different homes, plants, stalls, everything. However, as they reached a spot of the town that seemed suited for heavier population the air grew quiet, almost a frightening silence. The entire time Fakir was outside he had heard noise, and now not even a bird chirped. Not a bug, not a voice, nothing. As they rounded the corner Fakir didn't even have the chance to look up, instead shoved into the shade of a roof overhanging a house, and violently.
"Ame-"
"Be quiet!"
His voice had never been so loud, or so demanding. As Fakir managed to pull himself up he heard a loud, frightened, female scream. A sound of terror mingled with defeat, and the voice sounded familiar. The smaller male managed to peek over Amei's shoulder and quickly regretted it, for what he saw he would never forget, it would haunt him for every night to come.
A large beast stood in the middle of the street of the market, darker than the night itself and distorted in it's appearance. A revolting stench hit Fakir's nose as the creature shifted, long, almost spider-like limbs stabbing into the ground under it, breaking the stone ground. He couldn't make out it's form, despite how the light hit it, all he could make out was it's size and a long limb that looked as if it was broken in several places, and what hung from the tip.
Gilly.
The beast seemed to split open, and yet when Fakir further inspected it the creature was simply opening it's massive maw, and quickly the older woman was thrown into it's fangs, swallowed, and gone. The sight had broken the silence as humans screamed and began to run. The beast did not allow many to leave, smashing stalls and violently stabbing it's legs into bodies, crushing bones and tossing blood in every direction.
His heart fluttered, panicked, and he felt as if right then and there it'd give way. Warm hands hurried him backwards, an urgent, frightened voice attempting to collect him from his frozen state. Once, he thought he felt himself being lifted, but his mind was to far gone to truly comprehend it. His eyes never left the beasts, and the beast slowly seemed to turn it's massive, almost shapeless form until frightening, soul shattering yellow eyes rested on him, their pupils shadowed with a bright orange. It was those eyes that broke Fakir from his state, desperate hands clawing at tan shoulders that carried him.
"Amei! Put me down! Please! Put me down! Let me down! AMEI!" His voice was inhuman, as if he was a bird trying to mimic that of a human. Terror destroyed any reasonable sense in his body, and all he wanted to do was flee. All he wanted was to escape, with or without Amei. Amei had stopped existing at a point, the name he was screaming suddenly foreign to him. This beast, with a simple stare, had broken the state of the boy.
Amei tossed him to the side, shoving him against a barrel, hand whipping out to cover Fakir's mouth. The boy would not stop, would not cease his screaming and terror, even when the beast seemed to loom above the two and Amei's head raised, familiar green eyes wild with fear.
Suddenly, the world went dark, sound died, and all he could hear was a ringing as his body screamed in agony. The world shook, and light cut into his line of eyesight. Around him was rubble, stalls on fire and ground indented, cracked. The beast had stepped back a few steps, yet the damage was clearly from it. It must have lashed out and hit something explosive in another stall, for the most damage was behind it. Fakir couldn't hear anything, only a ringing, however his eyes had been spared. Enough for him to watch as the beast raised a limb and thrusted towards him.
Blood hit his face, warm and dripping down pale skin, staining his kimono. His eyes had shut, yet when they opened he felt no pain. They had locked onto the tall, broad figure before him, standing while Fakir was splayed out on the ground. Arms were extended, protecting the being that had just tried to escape the tan man, and a monstrous claw has found it's way through the man.
Amei fell the second the creature released him, collapsing at Fakir's feet, returning Fakir's senses to him. This was the man that had raised him, and he had tried to abandon him. If he had been thinking properly he would never had tried... yet... here he laid. Bleeding out before him. This beast was bored with Amei, having focused on something rarer, something it knew was special, and young. As those frightening eyes focused on Fakir he was rendered still once more.
Amei. He would die if he didn't do something. Quickly, too. Amei was dying. He could hear his chokes as the ringing slowly stopped. He could see his twitches, his gasps, his mouth opening and closing. There would no longer be his laughter, his warm smile, or tan hands gently telling him he was alright. Amei would fade away, and Fakir would never see him again.
The cold male stood slowly, leaving the shade in favor of the sunlight, heading straight to a stall, and quickly. The beast left Amei in favor of him, and Fakir smiled. Hands touched barrels, seeking liquid, until finally he located a heavy barrel, perfect for what he needed. Slipping behind the barrel, he waited, fear in his heart as the beast approached and raised a limb, and then slashed downwards.
He was lucky he was quick, barely dodging the attack. The barrel split, liquid pouring rapidly down the hill. The beast made a move for Fakir, and the boy let out a shaky breath. His heart hammered, mind wild, and yet he had enough focus to allow his cold mist to touch the water, allowing it to freeze. The beast had raised a limb, moving until the liquid was frozen. It would have been funny how it fell if Fakir wasn't so frightened, watching the beast slid downwards, away from Amei and Fakir. The sound of it crashing into a building didn't settle Fakir's pounding heart as he chased after the beast.
He wouldn't win this battle, he knew this. But, he had seen humans grabbing Amei just as the creature fell. That was all he needed. He needed the beast to be distracted while the humans gathered the injured. The sunlight was growing harsh, and threatening Fakir, yet Fakir knew he would need to welcome it soon.
The beast had managed to flip back up from the rubble of the building. Fakir silently hoped their was no one inside as he halted in the shade, watching the beast teeter. Ah. It must be hurt. It wasn't hurt enough, Fakir noted, for it began to ascend the hill once more. Fakir didn't waste time, running out into the sunlight, stripping himself free of the protective gear he wore and embracing the sunlight.
Agony ripped through him, a feral screech escaping his lips as his spine felt as if it was on fire. His body wavered, and the beast turned just as his skin became the mist he had begun to hate. Without thinking, or moving out of the sunlight, Fakir allowed his mist to spread, watching as it slipped under the beast where the sunlight refused to touch, and halt the beasts movements. It struggled to walk, however this was not the usual mist one would naturally see. No. As it struggled it's eyes landed onto Fakir's almost transparent form, watching him silently. The agony was becoming to much, it was eating away at his insides, ripping apart anything it could reach as he slowly became solid once more. The sunlight was unrelenting, and it tried to devour him whole. His body gave in, and his eyes began to close, the last thing he saw was his mist vanishing and the beast rushing towards him, claws raised.
- - - - -
Voices. He could hear them whispering around him, forcing him from the quiet, dreamless state he had been in. Was this death? Had the beast ripped him apart, devouring what was left of him? Death was fairly noisy, he wasn't sure if he liked it much.
"Hush. He's moving."
Hushed voices followed, then stopped completely. Fakir did not know that voice, he didn't want to know it, either. He didn't want to open his eyes, he was comfortable where he was.
"Open the curtains!"
"Don't you dare! Amei told us not to, he has a skin condition!"
Amei? The name was enough, eyes flashing open as the boy sat up roughly, regretting it immediately as pain screamed through him. His back hit the soft cloth again, collapsing into himself as Fakir let out a screech. Unfamiliar, rough hands grasped his shoulders, fright rushing through him as he lashed out violently.
"Don't touch me!" These people were not Amei. They were not tan, not blonde, and their eyes were not warm. Calculating eyes watched him, a man with dark hair and thin lines on his forehead was holding him still. He smelled of mothballs, not of earth like Amei. They were strangers, and Fakir did not like them.
"Amei!"
"He is resting two rooms down. He is alive, do not worry. Are you Fakir?"
The words barely registered, but when they did he sighed in relief. He hadn't realized how fast his heart was beating, either. Wait... he was... alive? "Where am I?"
"Just a small doctors house, mine, actually. My name is Zalut, pleasure to meet you. We brought you here shortly after the local hunters managed to scare the beast out of the town."
The beast. That was enough to make Fakir shudder in fright, yet anger rushed through him at the memory of a fallen Amei. It was still alive, wasn't it? It was still alive...
"We took Amei in, and he seems like he'll be fine. It'll take awhile to recover. A hunter scooped you up after his party went after the beast. Apparently it doesn't like fire all that much. He brought you here."
Zalut watched the boy, sighing gently. Fakir flinched as he moved slightly, watching him with narrow, unforgiving eyes. Where was Amei? Why was he not here? They had mentioned him several times, yet he was not here. He was no where around. The windows were closed in this room, Amei must have told them about his.... issues. So where was he?
Rough hands gripped his shoulders, rewarded with a slap from Fakir. Zalut held his cheek, shocked and amused by the fiery boys reaction. "I take it you don't get out much, do you, boy? You can't go smacking people, they might smack back, or worse, bite." His smile widened, tongue flicking across his lips. Fakir shuddered in disgust, glancing away quickly.
"You'll be sent back to Amei's home tomorrow evening. Amei will be sent back to you soon." As he stood and headed for the door the others rushed out like little birds until Zalut was the only one at the door, his head turning to view Fakir. A low smirk crossed his lips, tapping his fingers against the frame of the door.
"If I didn't know better, I would have thought you were a woman. You're an awfully pretty little thing, aren't you?" A bright laugh escaped him when Fakir grabbed the first thing he saw, a cup, and tossed it at the man, slipping out and closing the door behind it.
Fakir had a feeling that wouldn't be the last time he saw the b*****d.
- - - - -
"Amei." Tan fingers touched pale skin, a pale boy walked down the hall, and the scent of food filled the house. Months had passed, and nothing changed. Nothing except two left the house instead of one, one dressed in clothes you normally wouldn't see a local wear, another wearing a warm smile and sporting a faint limp.
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 1:10 pm
"Ari, would you get up?"
It must have been the seventh time he asked, Ari would think he'd take the hint by now. No, he hadn't, or if he did he just didn't care. Another foot nudged her, another groan escaped soft lips. She was not having it, not today, she refused to have anything to do with this morning, perhaps even this afternoon.
"Ari. Up."
It was his own damn fault. For the first time since she was born her father had gotten a hold of liquor, and he had decided to share it with Ari. At first she had believed it tasted horrific, but she had enjoyed the warmth it spread through her chest and throat. Eventually, she grew accustomed to the taste and assisted her father in downing the entire bottle in one night. He had laughed heartily that night and failed to warn her of the awful morning that awaited her.
Now, here she was, head pounding and temper raising. How could her father still be so cheery, loud, and clearly awake while she wanted to set fire to a village? The young girl considered kicking her father from where she lay, deciding instead to keep ignoring the man. The girl wiggled further under her covers, pressing into the mass of blankets, attempting to bury herself. Yisun promptly kicked aside the covers, exposing the young girl. She flipped onto her back, blue eyes flashing open, and promptly slammed her bare foot into the older mans chest.
"GET THE HELL OUT!"
- - - - -
Yisun cradled his bruised stomach as his daughter stomped about the camp site, watching her untied hair widely swing about as the stormed throughout the site. He should have known better, Ari had a foul temper in the mornings, and having a hang over.... No, it wasn't the attempt at waking her that pissed her off, he already knew what it was that sent that strong foot after him. It was the removing of the covers. She hated being indecent, and she hated when others saw her in the morning before she was able to groom herself. Combine that with a hang over and you were given a vicious kick. Mentally, he lectured himself for teaching her how to fight, it would have saved him that quickly darkening bruise.
"Papa. What is wrong with Nightingale?" The grey-haired man raised his head as he spotted his beloved daughter beside her horse, tensing considerably. This wouldn't go well.
"She was bitten by a snake. I cleaned the wounds and extracted the venom, but she won't be able to ride properly for some time." Ari sent him an icy glare, considering either questioning why the hell her horse was even in the position to be bitten or why he was riding her to begin with, however (lucky for Yisun) her head let out a screaming headache, causing her thin body to shudder violently. Flicking long hair from her face, she decided to simply let it go, slumping beside her horse.
Perhaps she should lighten up on her father, though at times he needed someone to kick him into shape. He was an older man, hair already a bright grey, body beginning to hunch in on itself and skin wrinkling quickly. He was lazy at times, then suddenly as loud and hyper as a teenager. He was lucky Ari watched over him, making sure he didn't push himself to far or kill himself by doing something stupid. Despite how completely different their personalities were the two lived in harmony, interrupted briefly by trips to Mornur or travelers stopping by. Yes, a kick to the stomach was considered harmony.
Today was one of the few days that her father would leave her alone for the night. He hunted, and at least once every two weeks he would head down to Mornur and exchange pelts for money. She only hoped that her headache would subside by night, she needed to be alert when alone in the camp. Her father had drilled into her basic survival skills, and to always, always be completely aware when alone in the dark. Damn b*****d of a father... letting her drink that much.... She needed to begin preparing for the night. Pulling her legs to her chest, she pushed off her knees, standing and heading for her tent, bare feet drifting across the dirt quietly. Her fathers bright green eyes followed her, wrinkled face crinkling further as he smiled.
"Little sparrow, do you want anything from the city?" He growled the word "city", a word he hated. He was not one for cities, he hated the smells and population and the strange life-style of those in the city. He liked the wilderness, peace, and being close to the earth. He never really enjoyed the days he had to visit the city. Ari peeked her head out of the tent, hands busily tying her long hair into a braid.
"Something sweet for Nightingale." She slipped back into the tent, grabbing her clothes and slipping them, removing her sleeping attire which consisted of a simple, thin dress. Finally dressed appropriately, she stepped out of her tent, flopping down onto a tree stump, frowning as she viewed her father. His beard was everywhere, and his hair was not even combed. When was the last time he combed it, anyway? Frowning, she returned to her tent, grabbed her comb, and approached her father.
"Papa, you look like a feral monkey. Stay still." Reaching for his hair, she scowled when her father leaped away, waving his hands.
"I like my look."
"You are not going to the city with hair like that."
"I always do."
"And that is why people do not trade or buy from you. Stay still."
The rest of that evening was filled with Yisun's angry, old man complaining yowls, and his daughters attempts to hush the loud man.
- - - - -
She never slept when her father was out. She was tense, twitching at every sound she heard. Her hand would grab her spear each time an animal cracked a stick, each time her horse even so much as neighed she grabbed her spear. She was a cautious creature by nature, even more so when alone. It was the story of her mothers death that made her on edge, the story of the Niches.
Her mother had been killed by Niches when she was extremely young,. Niches was what took her mother out, and what was the creature that bumped in the night. She was, like anyone, absolutely terrified of them. It didn't help that her father refused to live in the city, where they were safer.
A sound echoed in the night. Her horse let out a loud neigh, alerting the girl. Her long, tan fingers grasped her thing spear, twirling it into her hands as she rushed out of the tent, legs spreading, feet digging into the ground as she tensed. Her outfit fluttered about her quietly, settling as her breath did. Her eyes frantically sought, narrowing and focusing as a shadow wavered in the distance. Then, suddenly a smaller shadow rushed towards her, her hands twirling her weapon, feet moving forward, weapon halting, raising, and then....
"STOP!"
Her spear jerked to the side, stabbing into soil instead of flesh. She stumbled and fell, eyes wide as her head raised. Ari was not used to being stopped, her body did not react well to her sudden force halting. Feet pounded closer to her and something warm slid into her lap, her hand slapping it away. Familiar hands lifted her up, the scent of her father reaching her.
"I come back early and you try and stab your present!" Yisun gasped, voice shaking as the elderly man panted. Ari stared at him, stepping back and grabbing her spear, ripping it from the earth with a grunt.
"You never return at night, what did you expect? You trained me." Her eyes flicked to view her father in the dark, jumping as something warm and furry jumped onto her leg, pawing. Her eyes flicked to view a small, dark red and white wolfhound puppy, tail slightly curled and ears perked, warm yellow eyes viewing her as if she was a goddess itself. The creature ran circles around her, warmly pressing its muzzle against her leg.
"I found him and brought him back for you. Don't kill him!" Yisun gasped, catching his breath slowly as Ari knelt down to lift the small puppy. The second it's pink tongue flicked across her cheek she scowled, flicking it's nose.
"I have Nightingale. A puppy will get in the way."
"It's a wolfhound. It can help you hunt and protect you."
Her eyes raised, locking onto her father. "I don't need protection. Besides, I have you." She watched his face falter, watched him nervously laugh and mutter something she didn't listen to. This puppy was given to her to replace him, this much she knew. He was predicting his own death, whether it been this year or a few years to come. His death was a silent topic between the two, something Ari liked to avoid. Something her father liked to hint at quietly.
The puppy lapped at her cheek again, resulting in it being set down. Ari rejected him quickly. She did not need him, she had her horse and her father. That was her family. If she was given this puppy as simply that, a puppy, she would not be giving it such scowls as she was at that moment. However, Ari knew better. Ari was not amused.
"You smell of sweat. You should bathe before you get sick." Ari muttered, heading for her scent, tensing as the puppy followed. However, she allowed it to sleep at the end of her covers, refusing its attempts to snuggle.
- - - - -
Her eyes flashed open, body jerking upwards. It was still night, so why was she awake? Her father had returned, she should be sleeping. Why was she suddenly so afraid? So.... frightened? Her hands quivered, clenching them tightly as she realized how they shook. Was she sick? Had she eaten a bad mushroom, perhaps? Or was the kill tainted? A low, rumbling, shaky sound alerted her, hands reaching for her spear only to spot the little wolfhound. His hackles were raised, teeth exposed and tail tense. It's throat let out premature snarls, legs almost raising its body, reluctant to leave the girls bed.
Animals were more aware than humans, this she remembered. If he was snarling then she needed to check the site, she needed to wake father. She'd skin that dog alive if he was just being a fool, though! Gripping her spear tightly, she rose and exited the tent silently, and then was thrown right back in, violently.
Her back slammed into the ground, head snapping backwards as a hand covered her mouth, stopping the cry of surprise that almost escaped. Hands easily knocked into her wrists, forcing her to release her weapon. Her nails dug into shoulders, stopping when a familiar grunt escaped her attackers lips.
"Ari. Quiet." His voice was low, lower than she remembered it ever being. It left her still, shocked by the authority that rang in the usual carefree voice. His hand removed itself, body turning towards the opening of the tent. He hovered there, hand pushing Ari back down as she attempted to sit up.
"Papa."
"I said quiet." She hushed immediately, though her hands reached and gripped her spear, just for comfort. She jolted upwards when her father suddenly left the tent, pushing herself up and peering outside the tent.
It was then that she viewed fear itself.
She had never seen a Niche before. She had also never really thought about what they would look like. However the second she laid eyes on it she knew. Her instincts screamed to run, her mind fought to stay. It wasn't that the creature looked frightening, minus the hole in it's bare chest, it was the fact that it looked human. A creature of death and fear itself could hide amongst her own kind, a creature with an inhumane smile as it viewed her father. A creature that was of the same species that murdered her mother. It was fear itself, it was a perfect monster, able to blend in easily if it had a shirt. Able to hide.
Her body lurched, hands frantically fumbling with her weapon. Her father stood in the middle of the camp site, his weapon thrown aside. If she was thinking straight she'd remember that weapons were useless. If she was even thinking she'd remember that it was useless to run at the Niche like a bull, screaming your head off and launching yourself with a spear in your hands.
Thought was gone, instinct was ruling. Her instinct was not right, but then again, humans instincts weren't always right. It couldn't possibly know not to attack a Niche, for instincts did not think that way. It did not think: "That is a Niche. They are immune. Run." No. What it thought was: "That is a threat. Threats are bad. Make it go away. Now." Half of the human race were runners, their instincts telling them to flee danger. The other half were fighters. She was a fighter.
Her weapon went through the creature, her body slamming into the ground. She rolled, crying out as she felt the side she fell on give as she attempted to quickly rise. She had hit it all wrong. What was she doing?! Hadn't her father trained her for years? Why was she being so stupid? Her head snapped up as a shadow covered her, hand reaching for a spear that was far from her, stopping as she viewed a figure she did not want in-front of her.
Her father stood before her, arms spread wide, standing firm as the Niche stood before him. The Niche's eyes were monstrous, barbaric at best. They screamed hunger. Her father stood firm, head tilting back. She could see a crooked, tired smile on those stubborn lips, body rushing cold.
"Run."
Blood splattered, and she felt the warm liquid touch her face. Her eyes widened, pupils becoming slits, mouth gaping wide. A small squeak escaped her lips as her father went limp around the arm that had ripped through his chest, inhumanely strong arms easily tearing through bone and flesh. She froze, and she would surely have died if a loud bark and bite didn't awaken her. Eyes flicked to spot the puppy from before biting into her hand, teeth sinking into the flesh. The pain was enough. It reminded her mind to wake up. Run. She was supposed to run. If she didn't her father would.... would...
Would die for no reason.
Her feet managed to somehow force her body upwards. Her hands gripped her spear, legs darting after her horse. She willed herself not to turn around, heart hammering faster as she ran. Heart. An organ her father didn't....
Stop. She needed to run. Her hands dropped her spear when she fell, turning into solid fists as she kicked off, gripping her horses mane when she approached it. Frantically, she began to hoist herself up, stopping as frightened eyes spotted the Niche. It held a heart, his heart, in its hands, and its eyes were locked on her. Her mouth parted, gasping as the creature tilted its head back and bite into the heart, mouth holding the organ still as it began to walk over, its hands free.
A bark. Once again the puppy broke her from her fear. She glanced down, watching as the puppy viewed her with narrow, intense eyes. The puppy was saving her life, even though she had never given it anything but cruelty. It was protecting her. It was her turn to save it. Her arms wrapped around the puppy, switching it to her left, and using her right arm to hoist herself onto Nightingale. Clicking her tongue and letting out a loud cry, she gripped her horses mane as it kicked off, creating distance between her and the Niche.
As the horse ran Ari willed herself not to turn around. Her eyes closed, body hunching over the puppy, and her body shivered. She stayed this way until morning hit, and she was asleep.
- - - - -
She woke by a lake. Nightingale had stopped moving, though she knew she was far from the camp site. She knew the area surrounding it for a few miles, and this lake was not one of them. She was completely resting against her horses neck, and her puppy was curled roughly into her stomach, probably to not fall. It stirred as its human did, head raising and licking her cheek, tail wagging once. Ari pulled the wolfhound closer to her chest, gripping it tightly. They stayed that way for hours, the girl weeping and the dog comforting. She didn't know it, but that was the day that her life truly began. That was the day that marked her adventure.
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