|
|
|
lollipop-heart-stab Durning their off time the Sulavis liked to indulge themselves with bouts of physical endurance, or fighting tournaments. The bouts being between that of two massive creatures, were risky for inexperienced young ones. Nexis was no exception to this, he too took delight in the violence that was everyday normality in the kingdom.
A large spiked tail came crashing down on the cobblestone where Nexis' head had been just moments before. With a growl Nexis lunged at his opponent, knocking the younger male onto his back and slashing out at the soft underbelly that was unprotected by the Sulavis' hard exterior body armor. With a loud ear percing shriek the younger of the two males' bodies jerked in pain, for Nexis had hit vital organs with deadly percision.
Ripping his claws though the soft flesh of his brethren sprawled out on the ground, a dark liquidity matter without hue((in other-words black)) sprayed out though the air. Where it landed on the ground it began to bubble and sizzle, dissipating into nothingness to leave behind where it had once been, nothing. The mass of the rock that had been touched by this dark matter was eatten away. Just an example of how acidic Sulavis blood actually was.
Nexis removed his claws from the corpse that lay before him on the cobblestone, unmoving. His claws dripped with the blood of his foe, but did not react with his flesh as it had with the rock. Why, one might ask, could this be? Simply put, Sulavis armor and skin are immune to the toxic matter that flows within it's veins.
"Victory is mine once more." His inhuman lips partted in a wide smile, revealing large razar like teeth. For a moment he stood, glanceing this way and that, searching for a new rival. "Will not even one of you cowards step forward and take me on?" He was very amused with himself at this point, almost laughing as another fight started off to the right with better matched opponents. Then that is the extent of my exercise for the day. He thought to himself, deciding to shapeshift to his human apperance for a lively stroll.
It was then, just as he had finished dressing in mortal attire, that a head rolled to a hault at his feet. A sideways glance brought the young half-breed into view, her solemn face and body posture told him much more than he needed or even wanted to know about her at the moment. "So you got a little blood thirsty and killed some man in your travels. There's nothing new to your style of slaughter, I see you still prefer decapitation over other means of death." It was times like these when she brought him small gifts such as the decapitated head of the old man before him that he found her tolerable to some extent. "You should take a lesson from me once in awhile and change your killing methods from time to time. Perhaps that is why you have come? Hmm?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lollipop-heart-stab One, two, three.... She counted softly in her mind as the coins fell into the her money pouch. ......four, five, six.... A frown excapted her otherwise still face as the light clinking of metal against metal stopped. She could hear the man already turning around in his fruit stand, "You know, it's not nice to swindle from the blind, mister." Her voice held no sign of annoyance, though she had plenty to spare for this particular individual.
"Oh? Are you calling me a thief?" The large man turned to face his accuser, a small girl with bandages over the space across where one's eyes were held in their skull.
"Indeed, would you be so kind as to give me what is rightfully mine?" A small feminine hand reached up to gently caress the soft feathers of a beautiful bird of prey, who's keen eyes never faultered from the man's face. If not for the hawk sitting apon her should, she would have been taken lightly, and thus been forced to take messures into her own hands....rather than leave it to her dear friend.
Reluctantly the man dropped three more coins into the small pouch, grumbling as he turned to tend to his fruit.
"That greedy, wretched man." She stuck her tongue out as she walked along the small kingdom street that lead towards the woods. She knew this, not by her non-existant eyes, but from the sounds around her and the sent of dew the lingered in the morning air from the trees and grass.
With a small sigh, the girl tapped her staff around on the ground before her at the base of a tree. Just an extra percoussion she took before sitting down and leaning back against the cool bark.
It was days like this, when her kind master was away, that Luciana explored the Kingdom and surrounding land. Today, she decided, I'll explore the south side of the kingdom.
"But, first......it's lunch time!" Lu smiled as she leaned her staff against the tree's trunk, easily in reach if she should have need of it. The apple was in the opposite hand as the side where she left her staff, it juices light and delisious. Even now she could picture it's lush red peal shining in the afternoon sunlight and its juices pouring over the sides to sticky her fingers.
Seven years to the day.... Luciana thought with a bitter laugh and a sad curve of the cornor of her mouth. Her empty hand lightly traced the cloth that covered her once beautiful eyes. ......seven colorless, imageless years.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lollipop-heart-stab Rin awoke the next morning to find herself alone. She checked the office where Russell had been the night before, but only to find a messy desk and....his clothes? On the chair were, that's right, his clothes, or at least the clothes he'd been wareing. "What an odd man." She said shakeing her head and returning to the other room where her things sat beside the window.
It was amongst her things in her shoulderpack ((or very small one strapped backpack)) that she found the gadget Russell had given her the day before. Looking at it reminded her of what he'd said about needing to get these little buggers into the power boxes around City Hall. That's when she decided what she was going to do today.
With or without Russell's help, she was going to scout out thoes power boxes and hopefully get close enough to one to plant the gadget she had with her. She left after eatting one of the protein bars she had stowed away in her shoulderpack.
It didn't take long until she had managed to sneek in closer to the City Hall building. She couldn't get too close because of the guards posted at every nook and cranny imaginable around City Hall and the surrounding buildings. They really don't take any chances. Rin thought as she came within eye-range of a power box. There were two gurads standing about-face from one another, leaving the box behind their backs and inbetween them. Rin let her eyes wonder around, gathering information about the area and calculating.
A small, delighted smile formed on her face as her eyes found what they had been looking for; an over-looked path to her goal. For above the power box was a street-lamp that was never actually turned on, but better yet was just behind the street lamp. There was a painter's scaffle (sp?), used for paintting the outside of tall buildings. Someone had carelessly left it outside an unoccupied building, just a couple of window sills away from the old fire excape. Perfect She thought to herself as she worked her way quietly around to the othe side of the building.
Climbing was going to be the most difficult part on account that she couldn't make any sound what-so-ever. Which proved to be quite the task with the rusty fire escape that wanted to creek with even the smallest amount of weight applied to it. Not to mention the window sills that were dangerously close to giving way under her feet as she shimmied across them and the scaffle that wanted to sway with her every movement. Rin layed apon the scaffle, glanceing down at the still oblivious guards on the ground. It's a good thing i'm not a fat a**. she thought, moving over to the side closest to the street-lamp.
If there's one thing my stature is good for, it's this. Rin placed her right foot lightly on the metal of the lamp, testting it's sturdiness before placeing her hands and other foot down on the cool green metal. The street-lamp really wasn't that big, at least not big enough for a fully grown man to climb on anyway; Rin was just small enough for this task. She wrapped her legs around the pole and hung upside-down from the rod at the top that held the light.
Alright....so far so good. Her gaze was on that of the two soldiers below her position. For one false move, one heavy inhale or exhale of air, one sweatdrop and it was all over, end of the line, lights out. Still, it was times like these that Rin lived for. That unknowing factor, the mystery in it all. Can she pull it off? Will she come out of it unscathed? Or at all? Risk, to her it was addicting, a rush unlike any other she'd known.
One of the guards shifted his weight from one foot to the other, causeing Rin to hold herself as motionless as she could, holding her breath for that moment before realizing she was still undetected and her task still before her.
The power box wasn't as low as some might have guessed, it was higher up on the pole on account of security reasons. The Goveremnt didn't want these things tampered with, even if the guards weren't there. It was higher up so that it couldn't be reached from the ground. The guard were just a plus, more show than anything, really. With in a few minutes Rin had silently weddged the power box door open and placed the gadget inside in the circuit board. There..... She thought, with a glance down at the guards, whom were still completely oblivious. Stupid bastards, never even thought of looking up.
Another five(5) minutes passed before she had the power box's door closed. Now it was time to backtrack and get the hell out of there before she got cought. Slowly she pulled herself back up atop the street lamp and reached up and over to the scaffle. The way back seemed to be even more of a task than forward now. The Scaffle kept wantting to pull away when she grasped it with her hands and she had problems getting her feet up to it as well. Finally though she made it and quickly took to the window sills and fire escape.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lollipop-heart-stab Mavrick could care less about how old he was or if no one would want him if he were put into an orphanage. To him, nothing could be as testing or troublesome as the hell hole he managed to be lifted from. So the words that Reid had for him were meaningless, especially the part about his real parents coming back fro him. He gave a little laugh to himself, just barely able to keep the grin off his face as he kept eye contact with his so called “father”. That was even more meaningless to him than everything else Reid was jabbing on about. That word meant nothing, even if papers told who ever ran this place they lived in that he was suppose to be there. It wasn’t like his former keepers couldn’t come and take him again if they wanted to, they did it to little boys and girls all the time; and they had families the actually belonged to.
One word stuck out to him in all his thoughts, captors. Yes, parents weren’t the word he would use for his new found “fathers”. No, he would call him his new found “captors”. Yes, his captors were very generous, but that did not change the fact that he was on his own. They would give him what he needed, and in return he would give them what they wanted. At least this was a fair, give and take type of relationship; much better than the one he had been forced into before.
Taken upstairs to a plain white room, Mavrick gave a long glance around at everything. He didn’t see anything wrong with the room the way it was, it was better than he’d ever had before, that’s for sure. His captors werevery generous if they did not ask for something in return. He could not think of putting anything else in the room to make it….better? Was that what this smaller captor, Reid was his name, implied? It did appear to be just that, but the young boy waved it out of his mind. There couldn’t be anything better than this without a heftier price. It was a ploy, he knew it. His captors were testing him, somehow this would tell them what kind of child he was, and what they could do with him to make the most of things. Oh yes, he was onto his captor. This one would prove to be tricky, if he kept these tests up; but Mavrick knew what to do.
“Wow Mr. Garson, this room is huge!” Mavrick intoned with a sort of glee to his voice an extremely excited child might have on Christmas morning, “Thank you, sir....for the offer of more, but I like things how they are.” He told Reid with a most adorably sweet smile he could muster, “Thank you, I really like it.” The amount of joy he put into his act was stunning, to anyone who knew it as acting that was. It was almost enough to make him sick; he’d always hated it when customers would come to him in a really giddy mood.
The thought sprung another thought as he looked from his smaller captor to the room. What did he intend to make him do in this room? There had to be a reason he’d given it to him, right? So what was his motive? I’ll find out, I will. Mavrick told himself, eyeing the room once more before pulling all he could into a big grin to try and…please or butter this Mr. Garson up, he didn’t know which he was doing, but it seemed to please the man either way; all was good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lollipop-heart-stab He's only angry at what he did. Selena could hear Ace through the door, could hear the tone on his voice, could make out exactly what he ment as he stood just outside the room. He took your baby, he betrayed your trust, he abandoned you. Not you Selena, not your fault. His. It's his fault, Selena. He hurt you, he hurt you and your baby and then left you all alone. He hurt your heart too, Selena. Selena sat, rocking back and forth on her bed, her knees tight against her chest and her hands firmly placed against her ears. He used you. He did, he did. He abused you, Selena. He took your baby. he did, he did. And then he ran away. He's such a coward, Selena. He really is, you know. You can see it in his eyes. You can tell, you can. He's scared, he is. He's horrified. With you, he is. With himself, too. You know, I know, he knows, we all know. You do, you do.
Ace was long gone, she wasn't sure how long he had been gone from the door by that time, but she was sure he'd been gone for a long while. Her head barely moved to let herself see that he was really out of the door, even though she knew. He doesn't deserve to treat you like this. You know he's bad, you know it's true. He doesn't love you, he hates you. Poor Selena, it was all a trick. He'll keep you locked up, he will. They'll keep you all locked up. Tight as a button, he will. "He...will?" Yes, yes. He will, he will. Never you mind though, we can take care of ourself. Yes, yes. We can, we can. Never you mind. We'll take care of him. That we will.
Selena found herself at ease once more, relaxed and unknowing, as if her eyes were closed. Had she fallen asleep, she wondered. No...and yes...something inbetween she figured. The thoughts that came to her seemed right, they seemed true, but her Ace would never hurt her; would never betray her like that. Her Ace loved her.....right? Nope, nope. He hurt you, remember? He used you when he wanted, and when he couldn't he made it so he could. He killed your baby, he killed him. That he did. So he could use you again. "But...he loves me...righ? He loves to hurt you, that he does. Yesums. He likes to hurt you, oh my how he does. We should get rid of him, that we should. We should make him, oh yes indeed. We should make him pay, make him plee.
Yet again the words were there, the words were only fair. Couldn't he just be....upset? He said he loved her, he told her to love him....so he did, right? Don't listen to his lies. Lie, lie, lie. We should make him drink lie soap, that we should. For what he did we surely could. We could slip into his room while he sleeps. We could we could. Make him stay in his dreams. Yes indeed, yes indeed. Make him pay, make him bleed. Your baby bled, why can't he?
Was she still in her bed? Was she still holding onto herself? She couldn't tell anymore. Everything was....different. Everything felt odd, like it wasn't right. Like she wasn't in control, like she was watching a movie. A movie of herself walking the halls of Ace's house and moving down the staris to the kitchen. What was she going for? Food? Water? No, something else. But what?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lollipop-heart-stab How did he feel about him? Could he be with more than one person at a time? What was he running from? What was he afraid of? He had to admit, Kurt knew what questions to ask, but he knew little of when to ask them. Right now was not the time to answer most of thoes questions he'd been asked of by his friend. But he couldn't just irgnore them, now could he? Kurt was known for his easily accessable bad mood swings and Brendon was in no mood to deal with them. Since the show was only a couple hours off he had to make do with telling kurt what he wanted to her....even if that might not be the whole truth. The man was a very good liar, there was no doubt about that in the least, but he didn't like to lie to his friend. Then again...he was a very private individual.
It came to his attention, through Kurt's questions of all things, that it might not be in his best interest to flaunt what he was. Letting the mortals around him know, let them sense he was differnt, wsa most likely not the brightest idea he'd had in his life. If he wanted to keep a low profile he'd have to act as a normal human being and stop his attention needy self from reaching out so much....somehow. He would figure something out later, after they resettled it would be a little easier. But the task at hand wasn't hiding himself or blending in. No, his problem now was Kurt.
Kurt. Needy little human that he was was almost as self obsorbed as Brendon when it came to attention. If Kurt had been as he had in the beginning he would have made a spectacular Inucubus; maybe even better than himself. Which wasn't at all a settling thought on it's own. Brendon was good at what he did, but he wasn't so good that he could get away with anything he wanted to. Ture that he did get away with much more than he should, but that was the reason for his running. He had to keep one step ahead of his hunters. Kurt made it easier to keep the heat off of himself, so he at least own him answers for doing that; even if it was unbeknowest to the man in question.
There wasn't even need for debate on how he was going to answer Kurt, not at this point anyhow. The man wanted to know he cared. Whether he did or not was another matter, "I care, I wouldn't keep you around if I didn't. Now would I?" Kurt had seen how he treated people he didn't care about, who he tossed aside like an old carton of milk. Not very tidy of him, but he could care less and Kurt knew this well, "You'd still be back in that run down little town of yours if I hadn't taken a liking to you." He gave him a side swung smile, swiming his leg over his knee as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes scanned the room carefully, watching for too catious ears or wondering eyes that were obviously trying to hid what they were yerning to look at, and/or spy on.
So as not look odd in a dinner, ordering no food had done just that, he picked up a fork and stabbed a bit of Kurt's breakfest and stuffing it into his apparently oversized mouth. He barely took long enough to swollow the bit of food before he began to speak again, not wanting Kurt to think that he was avoiding something he dearly wanted to, "I can have one person at a time, and as far as dreams go I don't have to go into dreams. To be quiet honest I get more out of a physical event than one in someone else's mind. It's just easier to deal with people in their dreams is all." He wasnt' quite lying, but he wasnt' telling the entier truth. He tried not to lie as much as he possibly could keep from it, but that didn't mean he would mix truth with bluff now and again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lollipop-heart-stab Like clockwork, one might describe the morning's processions. From the earlier than sin wake-up calls to the outlandish display of insanity, that seemed to grasp the house as of late, there was little to nothing that could be proclaimed as "normal" in the start of the house(or rather estate)'s daily routine. Not to say that anything would, or even could, be concidered a normality in the house. In which case everything that seemed to happen was of a "normal" state of affairs within this place. Without any normal activity nothing could be concidered abnormal, save what was concidered abnormal to the normalcy of the house that was. With abnormal being the "norm" and the normal being the "ab", there really wasn't much cause for sane or logic thought while in the presense of those who dweled within these walls.
The only one to have not grasped the concept as a resident made his debut with a flamboyant display of what the house could easily concider abnormal behavior. The man had been there as long as any of them and still he refused to allow things to flow smoothly. Things, somehow, still seemed to surprise him with the little flower so appropriately named as she was. The way the man, Terrance, acted borderedlined superbly irritating and mindly amusing to the girl listening from the fairly large kitchen. Depending on her mood she may find something as simple and childish as embarrassment humorous, or perhaps blood curdling. It was a toss of chance with Zea, really. Left up to chance and what side of the bed she managed to wake up on that morning.
The room of dried blood, as Stormy had named it so lovingly, was one of Zea's favorite in the house. Next to her own room, of course. It usually smelled of citris, which on it's own was a lift to the senses, and the color made her feel warm and cozy. Besides the occasional dumbass remark or display of stupidity, it was quite the lively and enjoyable place to spend a few hours of one's day. Too bad the idea of stupidty had manifested its self in the form of the twit known as Terrance. The man was pretty much useless, in every sense of the word. He couldn't cook, he could hardly make anything interesting, he was damn close to utterly being close minded and the man was so homosexual he couldn't think straight(excuse the pun). Yes, indeed, he was a complete waste of space as far as Zea was concerned. Unless, of course, he provided some much needed entertainment at his own expense. Which happened to be quite frequently.
But the display of adoring affection that morning was quite amusing, to say the least. Even as she turned the temperature of the stove top down she listened to yet another morning of the usual. The usual being; Stormy get up, Stromy declare she's up to the world, grumpy old sourpuss wakes up to declaceration, sourpuss is bewildered at normalcy of house, Stormy p0w3ns. The End. Zea was normally up a good deal before the other occupants of their lovely home, slaving over a hot stove because no one else seemed competent enough to feed them. Zea didn't mind, for with great power comes great leverage.
Moments after Terrance had fully enduldged himself with the spew of word vomit, for the morning's festivities at lest, there came a rush of air past his face. A small line of blood, merely a scrape, appeared across the man's left cheek. What had done this, one might ask? At first glance it would appear nothing, but a slow glace to the left of Terry's head would give the answer. For there, stuck in the wall, was a thick, sharp metal pronged instument (presumably a fork) protruding from the wall. It still rang from the force of its flight, from a launch pad known as the extended hand of the 'almighty' Zea. The only evidence that it had been her was in her dropping hand, that and the slight gleam in her eye that could only mean trouble.
She kept her pace up, her simple boxer shorts and tank top clearly a sign she had yet to change that morning, until she stood at Stormy's side. A glance from Terry, where her eyes had been, to Stormy and back again only resulted in a raised eyebrow, "She has just as much right to run around here bare-chested as you do, dear Terrance. So why don't you go put a shirt on, like a good little boy, or Shut the hell up. " she let a little grin form on her lips, "Or I could oblige you with another utensil." It was no secret that Zea had a...rather strange liking to abuse, physical or otherwise. It was also a well known fact that she relished in the torment of others. The threat of "another utensil" was one that would, no doubt, include greater pain than a mere scratch. The overall affect was greatly enhanced with with bloody apron tied around her waistline and neck.
As if there hadn't even been the slightest hint of a threat on anyone's life a moment ago, Zea chimed in with, "Now then, go eat your breakfast...before I decide to eat it myself." It was the type of thing you just didn't argue with, or question for that matter. Espically when your "chef" told you to eat. Believe it or not Zea took offense to thoes whom neglected to enduldge in her meals. Making the decision to no partake in one of her oh-so-lovely meals, had a good chance of having the next one poisoned. Depending on your rejection, one might much more possibly end up with something carved into them; or something removed, just depending.
Nearing the kitchen there grew a sweet aroma in the air of, indeed it was, breakfast. On the center island, next to the first stove and oven, sat the promised delectables. Eggs, bacon, sausage, muffins, french toast, a fruit platter and hash browns. Zea herself was a pig, eating more than a girl her size would be capable of, and more yet. She naturally just assumed that everyone else ate as she did, therefore a reasonable cause to fix a deluxe meal. This was a kind act, correct? A gesture of pure generosity, no? A token of appreciation to her fellow housemates? Errrrr. Zea might very well prepare the food, but to hell if she was going to clean it up. If she was gracious enough to feed them, they could deal with clean up; if they wanted another meal in their bellies, that was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lollipop-heart-stab Leander easied himself away from the brick supporting him with a gentle push of his foot, his weight shifting from right to left as he came to the roof's edge. The wind came a little stronger against him here, taking his hair behind him and whisping it around; playing with it. It felt nice against his face, or more like what part of his face could feel it. Just the right side still had feeling in it for his nerves had been removed from the left some time ago. It was merely another thing that this man abhorred.
The library steps below were grand in presentation, even in the light that was available the main entrance was something to view in awe. Brilliant decor and a wonderous mixture of cream and tan throughout the stone marble its self. There were pieces missing, surely enough like the rest of the building, but it still had an aura about it that held power and knowldge. It was absurd to think like this about mere stone steps, but Leander perceived things at a different angle. Some of the most abused objects, to him, were some of the most beautiful; like the library, for example. Coming or going, Leander made it a point to look at these things before his departure. Why? One might ask this with a piacular look about their face, but who was to say these things would still be there to see again?
"A smack? I'll give you a sound beating," Leander turned his head from the steps to let his eye's gaze rest on the smaller man at his side. It wasn't odd for Leander to joke around with Noah, however it was odd to be viewed by others while doing so, "If it should happen." It was the smirk, still playing on Leander lips, but hardly touching his eyes that gave a little more light to his face than usual. He couldn't deny being antsy though not for the same reasons as the rest of the gang. Leander hardly did anything without some hidden purpose behind his action. What kept him restless was the recent occurances in the marketplace.
In the past month two of the gang had been found slaughtered in side streets. The two that had been killed were younger members, careless and ignorant if not arrogant in their inexperience. As careless as they were they did not diserve the death they recived. They were but children exploring, one only slightly more experenced than the other. Leander cared for all of the gang's memebers equally, not matter their age or skill level. To him they were all pieces of the whole, each playing an important part to the over all effectiveness of the gang. For this Leander carried a single bell from each of their fallen brothers, or sisters, with his own. So far there were a total of four bells, besides his own, that dangled from the belt loops of his pants. It was a sort of rememberance for thoes gone, a way for them to continue to help thoes still fighting.
Leander let his hand touch the two newest bells at his side, the gentle touch sending a ringing through the air; soft and peaceful. He and Noah had been the ones to find the bodies, the one of the youngest chopped up into pieces and left disrespectfully in a dark side street. It had angered him a great deal so it must have infuriated Noah, and still they did not know from where the perpetrator had come; The Genteel Sodality or The Recreation Project. Either one of them could have done this deed, though it was most likely not the gangs themselves. Leander was sure that this was an individual act, rather than a planned attack on two younglings.
"A little chaos might do them all some good, but I dare not send them out until we have found the one responsable for the slaughters in days past." He was not sure what he ment by that. It could have been to find and watch the one responsable, or it could have been to take what was due out of his or her own hide. Leander still managed to surprised himself at times, "A night out will do us as much good as they." He said with a slight incline of his head before crouching down beside Noah at the roof ledge, his knees bent forward with his butt just over the roof and right hand grasping the ledge between his feet.
"To the Marketplace then, shall we?." There wasn't need to look over at Noah beside him to know it was time to go, and so he did. Pushing up with his right hand he flipped himself over the edge of the roof, his legs going over him first before straightening out toward the library steps below. Which he landed on with his left foot foward, gracefully taking the next step down with his right and continuing down. Silently he dared Noah to follow him, though there would be no open admition to this, just the twinkle to his eye and the sway in his step; which rang the bells at his waist in a lovely rythmic pitch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lollipop-heart-stab Leander had expected his smaller companion to jump from his attempt at stalling him, but he hadn't expected little Noah to jump away from his destination. Nor had he expected the younger boy to...well...attack him from behind. One moment Leander was in the clearn, a "homerun" , the "jackpot", or a "touchdown"--these words ment nothing now, but Leander had heard of their meanings when he was younger and reading books with his father. They were terms of victory in their own fields, whatever they might have been for Leander no longer knew. What he did know, however, was the fact of flying through the air. In moments he went from straightening himself from his dropspin to no longer touching the ground, sailing through the air. A hard "Thud" reasured him that he had been in the air only mometns before, and the weight on his back confirming the cause of this phenomenon. Noah.
"Vengence feels good, does it?" He gave a slight chuckle as he took hold of Noah's hand and rose to his feet, "No need for drinks, at the moment anyhow. Why don't you go on and take care of whatever you need to while I look over the marketplace? Hmm?" He wasn't going to stand and debate when a good time for drinks would be, or the fact that Noah had anything to take care of; or what for that matter. Simply put, he was making a suggestion out of an order. No, Leander wasn't leader of the Freaks, but he could care less about that fact while it was just Noah before him. In any case Noah usually listened to him, and he'd grown quite use to that fact even if he hardly let it show; espically around other gang memeber. Order was essential in any group, no matter how slight it might have been. "I have a feeling I'll find more if I don't have you tagging along." A joke between friends, accented with a smirk as Leander turned leave that particular street before the merchant had his way with him for recklessness. He'd leave that up to Noah, he was the Ringmaster afterall.
While Noah went about his business, Leander took up the search of the marketplace. He was searching for many things along the lines of supplies and useful items for the freaks back at the Library. Medical aids were needed from time to time, though thoes were one hell of a headache to find in the hustle and bustle of this decaying place. It was the most lively spot of decay without gang rule, yet decompose it did; slowly but surely. That wasn't to say that the marketplace was dead, oh no, far from it. Just not as lively as it had been in years past. Perhaps this was a good thing? Leander thought so, at least. As time went on supplies became increasingly more difficult to find. The more people there were, the faster these supplies would be used up and thus be that much rarer to come across. It was a curel turth that this would revolved around survival of the fittest. Why else would there be gangs? Survival was easier in groups, there were safty in numbers. Gangs were like families, they watched each other's backs and did their best to help one another from day to day. Just as Leander was doing at that moment, looking for clues as to what danger lie in wait for his fellow freaks.
Speak of the devil and he will appear. The sight before him had prevoked the thought that crossed his mind. As he had turned onto another street two Genteels came into view. Battles did not usually wage unless hostility got out of hand between members of opposing gangs, but that didn't mean a Genteel would calmly keep themself from physical opposition. Leander kept his eye on the two strolling along the street arm in arm, sure of one to be the genteel known as Jasper; a member he had had more than one encounter with. Needless to say Leander had suspicion of this particular member for the deaths of the recently killed freaks. Leander let his hand fall to cup the bells at his side, holding them still and silent as he faded into the crowd of the busy mid-day market.
"And why shouldn't I?" The voice seemed familar, though he couldn't place the girl in any recent memory. She seemed to know Jasper well enough, then again gangs made it a point to know each other fairly well.
"I'm not afraid of any Freaks!" Leander silently wondered if this girl even knew what she was getting herself into. He didn't think so, by the smug air she had to her tone. She'd probably never even had a real fight with one of the freaks before, unless it had been thoes younger boys. There it was, now they were both under watch; under suspicion.
"So what kind of trouble have you gotten into tonight, Azriel?" Hadn't been the first time Leander had heard Jasper called that, but it made no difference in his task. All he needed to do now was keep his eye on them both and keep quiet. If he was lucky the imformation he sought would be spilled into his lap. Just a little longer, just enough to hear the man, Jasper's, reply. His answer, that's what he needed. Leander just needed to keep enough distance between them that he wasn't noticed. Yet he couldn't allow too much distance to come between them, less they or their words be lost to the hustle and bustle of the crowd around them. What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into, Jasper?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lollipop-heart-stab Zea almost spat back at him for his impudence, the man really did need to watch his mouth around her. It was one of the many reasons Zea hadn’t taken a liking to Terrance right off, or even after the time they’d spent together in the estate. It wasn’t her fault the man rubbed her the wrong way from the moment she’d met him. In fact from the moment she’d laid eyes on him she’d decided not only was she going to be an out right c**t to him, but she’d decided that he would be her play thing from then on out. Stormy was just too innocent and hyper active to be a play thing for Zea. Besides, Stormy wouldn’t be scared of her tactics, merely intrigued. Zea had always thought this match up was interesting, that Stormy was one of a kind and should be allowed to roam as she would. Zea merely gave guidance, nurturing Stormy’s mind with the potential she saw within it. What potential, you ask? Only Zea knew the answer to that one and she was one tough cookie to crack.
Seeing Stormy burst out laughing brought a small smirk to her own lips. She would have expected nothing less from little Stormy, especially at the expense of the idiot before them both. It warmed her to see Stormy taking a delight in marring someone’s face. Truly, the potential in this girl was extravagant. Zea silently wondered if Stormy would enjoy maiming more than just the man’s face. She had yet to torture the young man very well and she was well over due for a little torture herself. Perhaps she would allow Stormy to partake in her fun and excitement? That was, of course, after she got a hold of Terrance outside of his room and not eating. If there was one thing Zea could not stand it was vomit. No need catching him while he ate, running the risk of him emptying the contents of his freshly filled stomach all over the floor crossed her as very unappealing. It was uncalled for, for one, and extremely unsanitary for another. However, the thought of stomach acid aiding in torture from the inside of his esophagus was very enjoyable. She would have to remember that thought and work on acid relief pills, with exactly the opposite affect. It made her giggle on the inside.
It wasn’t but a few moment’s into her self-indulged giggle that she nearly fell over. She quickly shifted the center of her wait to make up for the additional weight of, none other than, Stormy. What else could have possibly been the cause of this? The girl looked lighter than she was, that was for damn sure! Maybe she should stop feeing her so damn much? No. That would only make her weak. Not good; not good at all. The thought was gone and out of her mind before it could be processed anymore. Besides that Stormy didn’t stay quite as long as she thought she might have. The girl was quickly out of her arms and before Terrance before she could blink. Well, not that fast, but pretty fast for a giddy girl with a gun at least. Zea herself had a particularly close friend similar to Smokey in relation to Stormy. Instead of a brightly colored revolver Zea carried a 37”(just slightly over 3’) black steel blade katana named Malice. The hilt of Malice was also black, accented in red and white wraps that formed little diamonds as they wound up to the hilt’s base. The base of the hilt, the steel piece that separated the blade from the position of the hands, was lined in a grey-silver(though mainly it had been stained black as well). Yes, indeed, Malice was her pride and joy: her baby.
Though the skeptical playing out before her had rapidly gained interest Zea’s attention was centered on her growling stomach. Hungry and dangerous did not mix well, hence why Terrance had had a fork launched rapidly through the air towards his head. He had been lucky she hadn’t wanted to gouge an eye out that morning; Or yet at least. It was pretty disgusting how men drooled over breasts like they were…entranced or some s**t. It was rather irritating, to say the least; just another reason for Zea to detest Terrance. The man really was an idiot. What would he do if he Stormy made that her permanent attire? Would he be a mindless gawking zombie? The thought sent another giggle through her system, short lived as it was as a frown replaced the slightly appealing grin that had begun to spread across her lips, “Come on you two.” She’d begun, but only a few moments late for stormy had proceeded to the kitchen before the words had even escaped her mouth.
It wasn’t until they were in the kitchen had she even noticed that Stormy had been addressing her as her personal chief. She merely answered in a simple incline of her head, gathering her morning rations onto a plate and stuffing her face promptly. Obviously she wasn’t meant to eat her breakfast in the slight relevance to peace that morning. With a roll of her eyes she brought her hand up with her spork and raised her middle finger. Terrance was, by far, the most annoying individual in the house, a real weirdo at times and a down right cocky s**t at others. It was odd, but in this house odd couldn’t be used lightly, “Look, a*****e, why don’t you shut the ******** up and eat your damn food? She doesn’t want to hear your bullshit anymore than I do.” She finished with a triumphant consumption of an entire sausage link and a look that could kill.
It was like a light bulb went off in her head. Why didn’t I think of that before?! The expression changed only slightly as she stood and strode around the kitchen’s island, her hands tucked neatly(quite adorably) behind her back, “Well, Terrance, I’ll take you up on your offer: on one condition.” She pause, a sweet smile forming across her lips that didn’t quite touch her icy blue eyes, “On the condition that I castrate you!” In the blink of an eye she had unsheathed Malice and drawn him at an upward angle towards the part of Terry that could only be known as his pride and joy. Set on her target with a speed unmatched by her earlier fork flinging. With Malice she had perfect form, as if he were an extension of her own arm.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lollipop-heart-stab Before she knew it Zea had a pretty blue gun pointed at her temple. The barrel lead up the long face of none other than Smokey himself, much to Zea’s displeasure that was. And here we thought we had an ally in Smokey, Malice. With a slight sigh, more to her self than to the ears of those around her, Zea lowered her weapon from a striking pose to a relaxed one. Here eyes slid shut and gently, but none too swift, she slide Malice back into his sheath. The black steel let out a single drawn out “shing” that rang out across the quieted room as he slide back into his resting place held in her other hand. She held Malice there before her, his glory lingering a moment before she promptly turned to face the brilliantly colored revolver face to face. With one finger she would gently push the barrel to the side, the aim no longer directed at her temporal lope. “My apologies, Stormy.” Having stated her deepest apologies, Zea allowed Malice to hang at ease in her hand.
With sudden, and quite visible, irritation her brow borrowed a good half inch down on her face. The cause of such exaggeration you ask? “He’s belittling your intelligence,” she would frown, allowing her eyes to open to slits and glare to her side where Terry sat, “As well as mine.” It irritated her more that this twit would have the nerve to speak for her. God damn p***k. She would teach him to treat her as some secondhand maiden, that was for damn sure. She had far from forgotten his remark about her “p***s envy” as he’d so deemed it. She wasn’t going to lie, she did have a slight envy of the male anatomy…just not his, “What a brilliant deduction Terry, your mind capacity still bewilders me. To think you actually know something I’ve made very clear to both of you this entire time. What a stroke a genius, truly Terry.”
The food under Stormy’s feet got a glance as well, though not as cold or as menacing as the glare she had given the mongaloid in the seat to the left of her. Her poor, poor muffins would never see the light of day again….or the black hole that was the abyss of her own stomach. A sad whimper made its way to her throat before dieing off at the short work of her esophagus. She was a sucker for those blueberry muffins, all warm and toasty inside and making the berry’s soft and delicious. She’d spent extra care on those that morning for her own craving and for what? To have them smashed under the feet of her adored Stormy? Life was cruel today. Oh so very cruel on her poor stomach. On the positive side at least Stormy would have crusty fruit and bread between her toes for awhile. Her blueberry muffins would have their revenge yet, in their own little way that was. Hope was not gone yet.
Speaking of yet, Zea had yet to put Terry in his place. She had a feeling that this part of Terry had more wit about him the other...or perhaps she was looking at it in entirely the wrong context? Would Terrance be smarter for hiding in his room and keeping his mouth shut? Or would Terry be the brighter of the two for his attempt at playing Stormy? Depending on the situation Terry was both ignorant and splendidly wicked. b*****d man. Though he still could not measure up to Stormy's potential at his greatest moment. It seemed redundant to think of these things as the food before them all became colder and colder as the time passed them. The silver, gold and crimson lined ivory plates sat pretty well filled; though hardly a bite had been taken from any of them since they’d sat down to subdue their early morning stomach pains.
“Stormy, I do believe he is undermining you. He seems very hasty to eat your food that I prepared. I do not think he tells the truth, but rather spreads his lies for his own, personal gain. He does not you’re your best interest in mind, and for that…” Zea would keep her relaxed nature, her composure never changing, save for the unsheathing of Malice and the adjustment of his blade against warm Terry flesh. She could almost feel his pulse, sense it through her sword, her friend’s touch, “…I think he should pay for his negligence.” That would teach him. If Stormy wouldn't allow her to take care of him, to toy with him and use him how she wished, she--Stormy--would terrorize him herself. Either way he wasn’t getting breakfast, that he so obviously couldn’t wait to get his grubby hands on. That should teach you to keep your hands off of her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lollipop-heart-stab Somehow summer vacation seemed over-rated. Sure, kids were excited to be out and about and parents had less than standard worries, if only more to b***h about. Just because school was out didn't mean homework, tests and in-class assignments were out the window; that was hardly the case. Indeed school was quite the bothersome task to any teenager, or child for that matter, but it was work and work never stopped. In fact, for many, the work load increased once they were not enrolled in school. Work never stopped, much to the distaste of individuals everywhere. You worked on something or other your entire life. This was as much true for the under class as it was for the middle and upper. What changed, however, was the outlook one had on their life, on their situation.
Today marked, for many, the beginning of summer, of pool parties and cookouts, or of wild antics and seasonal romances. For some it allotted more time for arguments and discord, violence and mayhem. For some still yet it was nothing more than another day in whatever place they prolonged their existence. It was the last of these that Jamie held his own category of views. School or no, life went on. Melancholy views one might say, but Jamie was far from deep seeded depression or somberness. No, this lad was full of himself, self-righteous, arrogant and cocky. Exactly what one might expect from the only son to the CEO of Coca-Cola Inc... A spoiled brat to many, a friend with benefits to others and an easy ticket out of a s**t hole to others; Yes, to many Jameson Allen Isdell was nothing more than a kid sitting pretty, a kid they wanted to ‘get to know’. If “getting to know” someone consisted of getting to know their money. Jamie was living the high life, as some people might describe it. He lived large; he lived nice, he lived how he wanted to, where he wanted to, when he wanted to. He decided he needed something, though most times it was a far cry from a “need” rather than a want, he got it. No one ever told him no. Ever.
“Young master Isdell your father has been retained in a meeting and sends his regards for your graduation. Your mother apologizes for her absence from dinner this evening and sent you a small token of her grief.” The head butler, Walter, didn’t have to tell Jamie this, he already knew. He knew these things not because he could see the future, though it was very similar, but the fact that this was a regular occurrence. His mother and father had never really been in his life. His father was away on business more times than not and his mother…well….he knew what his mother was up to. Whom she was doing it with had changed quite recently, but it was still the same for Jamie. While his father was out making big bucks his mother was out whoring around. Even if his father knew Jamie was quite sure he couldn’t care less. Come to think of it, why wouldn’t his father have a mistress by now? He was fairly sure his parents hadn’t seen each other in the past year, not even once. To make his assumptions rock solid? Jamie often found, though his own means, his mother with another man. The man she was mostly recently found with was tall, not quite buff or slender and looked of yet another business man. Sometimes more scruffy than others, but he’d come to find out his mother liked those sort of me. Men completely unlike his father, he quickly concluded.
“Yes, Walter, thank you. You may leave it for me to pick up on my way out.” He wasn’t particularly nice to anyone really, but Walter was close to him…if anyone could be considered close to the younger lad that was. If anyone would have the title of an up-bringer for Jameson it would have been this elderly man and perhaps a few of the long term maids from time to time. After all, Walter had been the one to come to his graduation ceremony when neither of his parents even gave it a second thought. Not like Jamie cared anymore, it had become natural to him not to have parentals. Hence why he pretty much did whatever he wanted to do. With no restraints and no limit to money or resources, a kid could get away with just about anything. Jamie had taken full use of his situation.
He pushed himself up from his bed, stretching his arms as high as they could reach to his canopied bed top and not quite ready for the blinding force of the sun’s morning rays as Walter bulled his curtains back. Blinding was used lightly for the force of that blow to his retinas was horrifyingly powerful. A coursing pain pulsated through his eyes to the back of his head as he yanked his arms up to block out the damaging rays of ungodly bright light seeping through his now open window. Curse that light, giving him a headache this early in the morning. Jamie looked over to the grandfather clock that sat across the room, on the opposite wall from his now blinding windows. It read 10:30. Ok, so curse the light for giving him that headache at all! It wasn’t like he’d told it to do so; the bastardous thing, “Walter, could you have some sunny side up eggs and crisp bacon made while I shower.” It was a command to anyone who heard it, but Walter knew the boy well enough to know he wasn’t doing exactly that; not with him at least. The old man gave him a smile and a gracious nod before leaving his young master to ready himself for the rest of the day. Walter never truly let him sleep past eleven o’clock on any given day, told Jamie he would end up looking like him self-Walter-sooner than his due.
The room its self was fairly large, the exact measurements were not held within Jamie’s head. Besides the gigantic canopy bed there were a number of other objects occupying his room. A few red oak dressers, a personal arcade pinball machine among many other….interesting things, to say the least. Attached to the room were two smaller areas, one being the bathroom and the other being a large walk-in closet. The bathroom was as normal sized as one could have a master bath, even though his chambers weren’t the master set to this particular estate. Jamie was more than ready for the cold sting of the shower when it hit his face though; the gasp of his finally awoken self was welcomed before the water turned warmer.
If it said something about the young man, or boy some might protest, to state that he had his own personal servant to take care of every whim then let it ring loud and clear. He didn’t even have to dry him self off! He had someone do it for him, as well as clean his room, closet, bathroom, clothes. Anything he wanted, anything at all, he was given. He didn’t want to have the hassle of dressing himself one morning, he didn’t have to. Luckily enough for that morning he had something planned, had the will to actually do something for him self. It wasn’t uncommon for one of his assistants to pull out an outfit for him to ware that day. This didn’t always mean he was dressed to impress, he had strict rules as to what they were allowed to clothe him in. He let nice slip past once in awhile; he didn’t mind a suit once in awhile either. But! For the most part he wore what every other ‘popular’ kid would ware his age. Roughed up looking jeans, store bought that way, a wife beater and a plaid button-up over shirt with dark shades and chucks. He wasn’t known to be unconforming, he wasn’t known for having his own mind, and he sure as hell wasn’t known for being the most intelligent person in the world. Never the less people wanted to be him; people still wished they could live a day in his shoes.
Breakfast was good, as always the cooks knew exactly what to do to appease him. He never ate too much, planning for the odd store that might catch his fancy as he wondered around the city. You never knew when there was something delicious just waiting for you to eat it up. Today he would might as well dine out, since his mother wasn’t going to be there anyhow there wasn’t really anything to catch his interest at home….except maybe the new fellow his mother would be sneaking into the estate. Jamie silently wondered if the man’s wife knew what he was up to, or if he had kids that missed their father. The ring on his left ring finger said that both thoughts were possible…though rather the second more so than the first. It brought a smirk to his face, his mother really was a deviant woman, untamed by any man let alone his father; foolish old man that one was. With a shake of his head Jamie was done and out of the house, having one of the servants bring around his cobra. No, not a snake, though he had one of those as well, but his baby. Yes, his car. His deep blue, actually black looking, car. He had been given this particular one on his eighteenth birthday. It was a gift from his father, though he was quite sure Walter had been told to get him something flashy, something Jamie could have to take the boy’s attention off the lack of everything else needful in his life.
It was in the front seat, his mother’s gift to him, as he got into the car. The gift sat in a small velvet box, purple fuzzy and lovely feeling against his fingers as he took a seat in the diver’s side and opened it up. Inside there sat a gold watch, encrested in what looked to be emeralds. He gave a short laugh,”You always were funny mother.” His mother had always told him she hated the fact that he had his father’s eyes. Brown and full of s**t, she use to say. She often told him she wished he’d had her father’s green eyes. Lovely mother. He thought to himself, putting the watch around his wrist. He hadn’t put it on for her, he’d put it one because he liked the design of the watch and how there were more than one time zone under the tiny glass face. With a smirk he turned the engine over and made his way to the city; to a club to be exact. Being eighteen he could go in, but he couldn’t drink. That left his second love of life; gambling.
 lollipop-heart-stab · Thu Mar 20, 2008 @ 09:29am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
