Skelly and Haku 12 undera post

[Shaddaling]

Sun kissed sand kicked up under large heavily furred paws, the small canine lifting the proud noble head, breathing in the night. The smell of small barrowing things, insects, the musk of serpent making it cough in distaste, the dry heat, and farther away the alluring scent of water.

The beast speed on, pulling him deeper into its realm. It ate a pair of large insects, munching them down with relish before continuing on its journey towards the smell. A small mouse like creature followed the insects and he could taste the faintness of copper as it shared the experience.

The large ears flickered, sensing. A small yip and they where setting off again racing across the sand, lost in the sensation of running. No one could run like this. The ground eating pace, the exhilarating feeling of just running for the sake of running. They skidded to a stop, tongue lolling out before they stopped to drink.

They lap the water, spilling it down parched flesh. A trig snapped, head jerked and they once again raced across the sands.

Just to pull up short.

Choking as the wire tighten, closing their air way..

Eyes fluttered slowly, opening to the sunbeam before groaning hiding his face beneath the pillows. That wasn’t the first time that dream, nightmare, past life perhaps. He could remember the noose around his neck and the lounging of the race. Haku closed his fist, closing each finger till it formed a fist, spreading each curled up finger looking at the faux paws.

“You miss the running; but when you run you kill.” He rubbed his cheek against the soft fur stretched over the mattress, sinking a hand in the thickness of the sandy gold strands. “And I can’t run for you.”

“Haku! Breakfast!”

“Coming!” He swung out of the bed, freezing at the small wooden box on the dark cherry wood inn table. “Box? Now, where did you come from?” Green eyes narrowing he eyed the small container warily.

“It doesn’t have teeth.” He shook his head, picking it up running his fingers across the wooden box before opening it. “Well, this is getting interesting.” An orb, black with milky white smoky substance capture inside? Liquid? “So what are you?” He questioned rolling it in his hands. “And who snuck in my room?”

“Haku!”

“Coming!” He yelled again. He stood up pulling down the light robe, tugging the sash tight and slipped the orb within his pocket, fingertips lingering on the smooth surface. “Can’t you wait one moment?!” He stuffed his foot in the slippers, running down stairs.  

[Shaddaling]

The butter knife opened up the biscuit, smearing jam on it before whacking down gently on the blue hand nearing his plate. “Kisten,” Haku growled, glaring at the boy.

“I want another biscuit!”

“Here,” Niki’ pushed half of a homemade biscuit to the boy, before picking up the gravy. “Make sure your laundry down by ten, everyone. If it’s not down by then you have to make a trip to the laundry mat.”

Haku finished his biscuit before spooning eggs onto his plate. “Is breakfast going to be at eight everyday?” He questioned.

“Breakfast is when it’s done not before.”

“Flexible then.” He muttered before finishing his eggs. “Excuse me,” he said leaving the table, taking care of his plate and wiping down the wooden table. “I’ll be in my room.”

“Don’t forget you have work in a hour.”

“I know.”
______________________________________________________________

The orb was set on his bed; his eyes narrow as he watched it move quivering on the light summer blanket. “You moved,” Haku muttered before picking up the box that once house the strange stone. “Considering this isn’t normal there has to be an explanation in here some where.”

Fingers teased a piece of parchment out and smoothed it down. His green eyes ran over the words written.

To You who has a wish
upon hearing your troubles in the real world I have sent one of my own to watch over you, but you must take care of it in return. Enclosed in that box is a orb shaped crystal that will show you your dreams and solidify them into a guardian. I will be paying you a visit during the week.

The Goblin King

“Goblin king? How do I take care of you?” Haku questioned running his fingers across the crystal, content at the completely smooth feel. Complete perfect roundness that spoke louder then the letter of it’s unworldly nature. “To bad you can’t speak and tell me. I’ll just keep you with me for now.”

A change of clothes and a small trip to the basement to drop of his dirty laundry latter, Haku was ready to go the orb settled in his jacket inner pocket, safe and sound. Lacing up his skates and throwing his sandals over his shoulders he skated off to the theater.  

[Shaddaling]

His office had once been a closet, the bar for coats still hanging and still in use for his own jacket hung from there. It had been equip with a small chipped but study end table and an ivory colored cushioned footrest from a chair that had been broken three months ago, before that he had made do with a beanbag. The No play he was translating rested in the corner with the already translated pages.

And the orb, the orb was glowing peacefully as it rolled about his desk, nudging the objects in curiosity. Not to mention making his heart stop as it balanced about the edges. Could orbs break?

“I really need to make something for you. Something to keep you in…yes?” He called at the knock on the door. “Morning Yuki,” he said smiling at the young woman at the door. “Can I help you with something?”

“I was..ooooh! It’s so cute!”

“It’s an orb. I don’t think you can label it as cute.” Haku replied before snapping the orb up as it dangerously wobbled on the rim. He set it on his lap before looking up at Yuki. “Can I make a request?”

The seamstress of the group smiled. “If you tell me where you got the moving crystal.”

“Someone snuck in my room and left him, claming to be the goblin king.” He rubbed the smooth shell. “I need a pouch, something to keep him in.”

“Easy enough done. Hold still.” She said unrolling her measuring tape. “I think a hanging pouch would be best, you can wear it about your neck or clip it to a belt. Your neck would be best, about level to your heart so you can feel if he gets out. How do you know he’s a he?”

“I just…sense it.” He picked up the orb making a small soothing noise as the orb trembled slightly. Yuki ran the plastic tape around it, jolting down the numbers. “I’ll have it ready for you tonight.” She smiled before leaving him. Knowing he preferred his peace.

“Thanks.” Haku set his orb down on the floor, pulled the translation papers in close, pulling a blanket sheet out and opening the playbook to the marked page. He leaned over his desk and picked up a pen. Stop. Pause. His glaze fell onto the orb rolling around the floor. “What am I going to do with you?” Setting his elbows on the desk, his head tilted picking his brain for a solution, some sort of entertainment. Ooh.

Setting down a blank page with a small dollop of ink onto the floor, he drew a line across the page in ink. “Why don’t you draw a bit? See, all you have to do is move the ink about.” He smiled, watching the orb wiggled against the paper causing it to crinkle. “In the ink.”

The orb rolled to the perimeter of the ink before taking a dive and sliding across the puddle leaving a strip of color. It glowed slightly at the feel of ink, circling about the page.

“Good.” The pen in hand he started on his work, nail running underneath the line of kanji to keep his place. The pen scratched pleasantly creating a soothing sound. Slow budding warmth gave his pale skin a subtle glow. The emotion he had not felt since Kurenai rode his soul made him smile fondly in his work.  

[Shaddaling]

The long sleeves of the cream yukata fluttered in the slight wind blowing from the open window. The curls of his hair was spread over the pillow as he rested on the plush fur, fingers sunk deep in the strands. The new buttery soft leather pouch with claps and ties to loop it around his neck or clip to a belt or the inside sleeves of a kimono was attached to his wrist with smooth straps. His fingers ran over the outlines of the leaves sewn in dark green on the lid.

The orb rolled in and out of the rumpled blankets tossed from the bed and ink artwork zigzagging playfully, glowing slightly. The papers crinkled, causing one green eye to open then close sensing nothing wrong. “Mmm,” he muttered sleepily stretching in the full-size bed.

“You need a name, I can’t go around calling you it, or you, or orb,” he muttered eyes opening in slits watching the orb crinkle up the papers it had played on leaving streaks and spirals as he worked. Bright green eyes rest on the page of ink swirls tacked on the wall in affectionate bemusement, reaching up a pale hand to run across the dried ink. “You need a name that suits you.”

He sunk back into the bed, eyes leisurely shifting around his room before falling on the shamisen hanging by the small shrine. The scarred fingers twitched, moving as if strings lay beneath them. ‘I want you to play the shamisen till Zoraha returns. He says you know your way around it.’

“I don’t know..,” trailing off he slid out of the bed, crossing the room to lift the musical instrument lovingly from the pegs, hand falling on the silken strings. The orb bumped against his bare feet, rolling over them glowing merrily. “Hmm.” Scooping the orb up, he return to the bed setting him down. “This is a shamisen. It’s old; my mother got it from her grandmother, and her from her grandmother, and her from her grandmother. Five generations and I’m the only male to own it.” His fingers ran across the strings the scar tissue rasping against the smooth strings.

The smell of poppies lingers on the wood; his mother had loved the flowers so dearly. Every year he would run across the field cutting stems and bringing back the red flowers to fill the shamisen case. The house would smell sweet as they wilted; staining the wood of the shamisen nestled in the forest of red and purple petals. He rubbed the petal shaped purplish stain on the paper instead of skin making up the body.

Sprawled on his mother’s lap in a bright summer yukata robe and one geta dangling from his foot it’s mate in his hand so impatient to go to the market. She had promised they would eat at the fancy restaurant downtown. Bright shocking red hair appearing in the window, paired with blue eyes and a dark weathered face. ‘Skelly…’

“Skelly?” He questioned fingers still. Green eyes fell on the orb debating. Skelly was a dead mans name. Something, something was needed to make the name it’s own. “Skelly Tevalon?”

The orb glowed, wiggling in consent.