posts -- dnp

[showers in april]

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loud η o ι ѕ з ѕ ↔ dαm-mιт → oн wαιт ← нold uρ ↑ αн тнαт'ѕ б з т т з r ↓ ѕιl.зηcз

|| η.ι.× ||

бlαcκsмιтн.oғ.αlloязαн
¤ - ¤ - ¤

Nikalos knew it was a bad idea. The sky was getting dark each moment a new thought entered his mind, and new thoughts entering his mind were faster than the speed of light, so you could obviously guess his anxiety as he pondered on what he should do. He really needed those supplies; couldn't go on without them, and the market would not be opened until the day after tomorrow (for it was the owner's break) and he couldn't wait that long.


Nix was running out of food. Yes, food, all his worries and concerns over food, but he was a blacksmith. Unlike the manager of that market, he did not have any breaks and he was always up and about doing actual work rather than standing behind a counter and accepting money while keeping an eye out for thieves. He had to hammer things, shape things, and heat iron and such others up; sweat and fire were constant companions. It was hard work, but he was the only blacksmith in town so he was never out of a job; not to mention that he was never cold with the furnace always on. But, anyways, with him always doing such hard labor, he was always hungry. 24/7. Even then, as he was silently debating on what to do, his stomach growled with the complaints of wanting something to eat.


The male looked out the window, frowning with nervousness as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was getting really dark. If he wanted to go, he'd have to hurry, or else he'd starve; and if he was starving, no one was going to get what they wanted. Nix sighed and grabbed his walking cane; sure, he knew the path well enough, considering he had used that same path every week for the past three years of his life. By now, he had completely memorized it, knowing where to turn and which stone to skip over, which house to ignore and which to nod and say, 'It's almost ready.' Still, though, that didn't mean he liked going out when it was pitch black.


Alas, Nikalos really had no choice, and with that rather irritating thought, he headed out, glancing up at the sky with a little apprehension. He still had his sight, thank the Lord for that, but it was a little blurry; he needed to be fast, or else it'd come to the point where he wouldn't be able to see at all.


Quickly, but not too fast or else he'd trip over something in his haste, Nix bounded down the dirt path that led to the kingdom. The guards gave him confused looks that he could not see until he got closer. Great, now they were going to ask questions; he didn't want to speak unless absolutely necessary, but he supposed in that great and cold place, those guards were the closest things he had to friends--not that he wanted friends or anything. Companions were rather troublesome, but to those men standing outside the gates, he felt as though they deserved an explanation, else they'd stand there worriedly.


Of course, as expected, they asked about why he was out and that it was getting late. You should be inside, they said, but he nodded gruffly and muttered about how he had forgotten to get supplies that morning because of several jobs that needed his attention. Again, as expected, they expressed their dislike of him out for it was hazardous to his health, but he merely disregarded what they said and told them that he had his cane, and that there was still some light out.


Despite his attempts to console them, he was still as anxious as ever. With an almost desperate speed, he finally managed to reach the market just before it closed, a sigh of relief escaping his lips once he saw the familiar outline of the shop and smelled the calming scent of bread that would be freshly baked had he arrived several hours earlier. Another glance at the sky and he saw that he was making good time.


Nix stepped inside the store and bought the needed items, stuffing them in several bags the owner had given him. The owner of that place was a nice old man, always saving something for Nikalos in case he had arrived late, like today. Quietly, he muttered his thanks and the man gave a soft chuckle, telling him to take care and be careful. The blacksmith nodded and, satisfied with the contents inside the bags, set off for home. Now, his sight was worse for the sky had darkened a couple of notches, but that didn't worry him. He'd make it in time.


At least, that was what he thought until he saw something falling from the sky. At this point, many were already inside of their houses (rumor had it, there were thieves wandering about). Even with his awful sight, he could see that it was...a something. Maybe a meteor, he couldn't tell, but he knew that there was something up there. As he and it neared, he finally realized that it was coming toward him, and with a small cuss, he stepped backward and tripped, mumbling a series of swear words in another language. This 'thing' was no longer a thing; actually, it was a person, and a girl it looked like, floating and glowing in the air as she slowly descending from the Heavens.


What. The. Hell.


All he wanted to do was go get food. All he wanted to do was go home before it was so dark he was blind and whip something up so he could eat it and get back to work. But no. Instead, he had to be the only person to witness such a weird event, and now he felt as though he was obligated to take her in! Obligated!


There was a certain gut feeling in his stomach that told him picking up this random chick would not be a good idea. He could already tell she was going to bring complications and troubles, two things he absolutely hated. But... She was...defenseless... There were rapists in the kingdom and God knows what else!


"Dammit." Nix ran a hand through his hair. "How annoying..." He picked up his fallen belongings, glad that the bag protected at least most of it from the dirty ground. With all the supplies in one hand, he bent down and scooped up the girl in his other; she was light. Lighter than a lot of the tools he worked with, it seemed, but maybe he was just crazy. He had managed to somehow shove his cane in with his left hand and used it to help him back to the entrance.


Wait, how was he supposed to explain to the guards about the girl he now carried? He thought for a moment, hiding behind a building with the gates in sight (though he could barely see it), and looking up at the heavens, he could tell that if he waited any longer, he'd be deprived of any and all vision. Great. Just. Freakin. Great. Oh, but what was this? It looked as though the guards were leaving; yes, they were leaving! Probably switching people for the night shift! Perfect! Quickly, he slipped out the gates just as they left and, after several moments longer, stepped into his house and closed the door.


That little event had been a couple of days ago, and now, the girl was either: A.) sleeping or B.) in a coma. He wasn't sure. She was breathing just fine, and her heart rate was off the charts, so he had decided that it'd be okay to just leave her be for a while. Nix had given her his bed, something that he didn't use very often; most of the time, he just fell asleep in his workplace. Speaking of which, he was there right at that moment, shaping a sword that a young man about to join the military asked for.


His work place was located in the back of the house, very far in the back actually; he had built it separately from his home so that, in case it burnt down, his house would stand tall and proud and safe. Plus, the fumes were probably bad for the food. Soon as he started banging the hot metal with a hammer though, all thoughts disappeared from his mind.


Clang! Clang!


He'd check up on the troublesome woman later.

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[showers in april]

яєd

тяаррзd ιη мy ωзь оғ lιзѕ

αм ι τнз ѕριdзя оя τнз ιηѕзcτ?

╔═══════════════╗

Walking down the streets, Red couldn't help but notice how empty it was. That was so weird, to be honest. Well, he supposed it was normal in a small town such as Bells, but he was so used to the crowded streets of the city. He remembered once, at three a.m., he had gotten bored and couldn't sleep, so he slipped on some clean clothes and some shoes and headed on it. My goodness! People were walking left and right, even the hobos were awake! He could've sworn he saw a pre-schooler waddling along the sidewalk with a large puddle; where was this kid's parents? Nobody knew, but he seemed all right on his own. That night had been absolutely crazy; would've been so much fun had he not been mugged by some bum begging for quarters. Pfft. That liar. He had stolen so much more than quarters... He shook his head of the memories of late nights and early mornings, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. "Took my wallet...I loved that wallet... Some random chick on the streets gave me that wallet..."

Passing by a house, he noticed that there was a giant, cardboard box sitting in the middle of the lawn. Obviously, it was trash, otherwise it wouldn't be out there, but why did the dumpster truck not take it away? Curious, he stepped over to it and peered inside after carefully making sure he was not being watched. Inside the box were the strangest things he had ever seen; items of unknown value, little toys that were oddly shaped, and tiny figurines of heavens knows what. It was so fascinating... Looking up, Red checked all the windows of the house; no one was looking at him through the curtains. There were no cars in the driveway, and the door didn't look as though it was going to open any time soon.

"Perfect."

Grabbing a hold of the box, he dragged it along the sidewalk; it made an awful noise, screeching and crying, as though it didn't want to leave and was trying to warn its owner of his presence. No one came out though, so after a few seconds of paranoia, he chilled and continued pulling the containment of treasure along until finally, he recognized the wonderful home of Thomas in all of its glory. The paint job was still there, the same windows, that little tree had grown up, and the grass was green and grass-like and... Yup. It was as ugly as ever. Made one want to barf, eat the vomit, and then barf again.

Ahh... He loved it so.

Dragging the box onto the porch, he knocked on the door until Thomas' grandma came out and squealed, giving him a bone crushing hug. Hm. He didn't smell any cookies. Dammit. Behind him, he could hear a limo approaching...and the hairs on his back stood up. That could only mean one thing: his manager was coming. Quickly, he entered the house and closed the door, trying to get past all the people before that evil man came by.

"Ah! Yes, great to see you! Yes, I've been well, and how have you been? Oh, that's good, that's good." He gave a cheerful smile to a man who waved at him, despite the fact he did not remember the guy whatsoever. "Huh? ...Um. Yeah... I'm still a virgin..." That was a very uncomfortable thing to ask, but he since he loved the old woman so much, he'd accept it. (No, not really, she just made a damn good sandwich.)

"So, uh, where's Thomas? Did he arrive yet?" The woman nodded and pointed Red in the right direction; he thanked her gratefully, giving her another hug and an awkward wave to that man--what was his name?! "Oh, this old thing?" He kicked the box. "Yeah, uh...my...manager gave it to me...? As a Christmas gift, yeah," he lied fluently. His manager was too heartless to even wish him a Merry Christmas, much less get him a box full of junk. "So, I'm gonna go talk to Thomas now. It was very nice seeing you again. Yes, I missed you very much and thought of you every day, too. No lie." Such a sweet woman.

Walking backwards, he dragged the box up the stairs that were laughing at his every step, and into the room Thomas was; because he was walking backward (it was easier to pull the cargo that way), he had not noticed that Aless was in there and that the two of them were having a very intense and serious conversation. So, he began to blabber, as usual, while he was working on getting the treasure inside the room (problem was, it wouldn't fit through the door, though he had dragged it in just fine when entering the house).

"Yo, dude, your grandma downstairs was just asking if I was a virgin. What the crap did you tell her, man? Just cause you're not, don't mean you gotta go around assuming everyone else is doing their girlfriend, too. Gah, get a bigger door frame or something and make my life easier, why don'tcha?" Cue angry growl and a kick to the box. "Geez, a couple inches wider, is that too much to ask? Honestly... Hey, you talk to your girlfriend yet? I swear man, if she's got AIDS cause of you, I'mma kick your balls so hard they'll--woah. Well. This is awkward. Hey, Aless, long time no see. Uh, I guess I'll just leave you guys alone now...um. Yeah. So. Bye."

Pushing the box into the hallway, Red closed the door and pressed his ear against it, straining to hear some juicy details from their conversation. This was so much better than that stupid box.

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xxx xxx

[showers in april]

яєd

тяаррзd ιη мy ωзь оғ lιзѕ

αм ι τнз ѕριdзя оя τнз ιηѕзcτ?

╔═══════════════╗

The hell?

Red peered out the window at the town as it passed him by at thirty-five miles an hour. Was it always this...boring? And he had actually missed it during the tour? Obviously, he had been high and drunk half the time, otherwise he would've remembered the place he had spent his high school life in was a complete dump. Compared to some of the other cities he had been to with the band, this place was a tiny little speck on the face of the earth. Everyone knew everyone. There was no privacy, no secrets; gossip spread like wildfire, greedily consuming every person's mind as it ran across the town. Nothing happened in Bells. At least, nothing that made an impact on his memory anyways. While he had lived there, he recalled it was just daily routine. Wake up, go to school, practice, go home and cram. And then the next day, it would repeat. What was it about this awful place that he wanted to see so much that he'd crave sickening, chick flicks about life and friendship? I'll probably never know...

While Thomas had decided to get a separate limo, it gave Red the idea to take a taxi. He had never been in one before and had always wondered it was like. Well, finally getting the chance to take one, he took it, and guess what? It sucked. The driver was some Indian guy with a thick accent, and though he loved Indians as much as the next guy over, it was annoying. Especially when the driver kept glancing over to him for long periods of time, probably pondering on where he had seen Red's face before when he should actually keep his freakin eyes on the road. Finally, when the man hit the brakes right before they almost crashed into the crappy car in front of them, Red had had enough (and vowed to never take a taxi ever again).

"Yo, dude!" he exclaimed, clutching onto his seat belts for dear life. Honestly, people actually took this vehicles to work? There was a better chance of dying than actually getting to their destination in one piece! "Do me a favor, man, and concentrate on driving before you kill us both." The driver nodded and said something with a thick accent; Red couldn't tell if it was in his native language or if it was English. He sighed and turned his attention back to the road. If that crazy nutcase of a person wasn't going to keep track of how many cars decide to cross into their lane, he'd take it upon himself to do so.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of screaming and crappy driving, the taxi driver let him off at Red's house. "Ain't no way I'm tipping him..." he muttered, grabbing his suitcases out of the trunk and leaving it on the front porch as he dug in his pocket for his wallet. "Hey, how much?" he asked, knocking on the window and then opening the door. "Sorry, man, I can't understand you. What? No, I can't--do you speak English? No, DO. YOU. SPEAK. ENGLISH?" He blabbered something and Red rolled his eyes. Running his hand through his hair in frustration, he grabbed a wad of money and gave it to the man. "You know what? Forget it. Just take the money."

What happened next? The Indian taxi driver closed the door and started the car, saying in perfect English, with no accent whatsoever, "Thank you, boy," and then drove off chuckling like a maniac, leaving Red staring in shock at the car until it turned the corner.

"Aw, man, that ain't right!" Grumbling underneath his breath about dark colored people who ate curry (of course, he meant no offense to other Indians and was not trying to be racist), Red dragged his bags up the stairs and unlocked the door. Four years. Four years and he still kept the key in his left pocket, where it had always been. Right where he needed it. How nostalgic. But he was back now, back and better than ever. Opening the doors, he dropped his things on the floor, listening to the familiar thump as it hit the wooden floorboards. "Hey, Dad, I'm home!" His father did not answer him. Instead, he could hear the loud barking of a young pup. What happened to Jabbers? He didn't die, did he?

But that morbid thought was quickly erased from his mind as he took a walk around the house. Everything was exactly the way he remembered it, the fake flowers in the corner, the disgustingly, ugly paintings that his Uncle Frank drew and gave to them for Christmas, the messy kitchen with its dishes that needed to be washed, the same stairs, the same air, the same feel. The same home. The same house. Red placed a hand on the rails of the stairs and gave it a light squeeze. So much had happened, the tour, the band, him. He changed. And coming back to something so familiar, something so missed and loved, it was a nice feeling. It was a great feeling.

Red headed for the door, locking it behind him. No one was home, and Red wasn't the type to sit around and wait; he needed to be up and moving, and so he left for Thomas' house, which was only a couple streets down. That b*****d better have some milk and cookies laid out for him, because after that life threatening experience, he was hungry as hell!

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xxx xxx

[showers in april]

• • • • •

[[ .photographer. ]] [[ .artist. ]] [[ .lover. ]] [[ .dreamer.]]

To be
[[preserved]]

To be
[[suspended]]

To be
[[remembered]]

To be
[[immortal]]

To be
[[forever]]

To be
[[young]]

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• • • • •

Snap! Snap! Canvas paused, admiring the beauty of the bride and the good looks of the husband. The woman was fully clad in a traditional white gown; the veil that covered her face was not as long as her flowing blond hair, cascading down her back in ripples that sent shivers of delight down people's backs. Her arm was twisted around the limb of her father as they walked down the aisle with the pianist at the organ. Snap! A flash interrupted the peaceful scenery; some people turned their heads in slight irritation while others gazed in curiosity at the short girl wandering about the church, taking pictures with her expensive camera. An old woman motioned for her to take off her hat, but Canvas ignored her and continued with her work.

Snap! Snap!

Honestly, who in their right mind would want to get married at 8:00 AM in the morning? It didn't bother Canvas, really, seeing as how she was an insomniac, but she had to wonder...

As the father took his seat beside his wife, the bride stepped up beside the groom; the photographer took a quick picture and settled off to the side as the priest began speaking, a warm smile on his face.

"Brothers and sisters! We have gathered here today..." Turning her attention down to her camera, she flipped through the pictures, deleting the ones that were not worthy of being developed. A man beside her peered over her shoulders, but she glanced up at him with a raised brow, a surge of irritation flowing through her veins. She did not like others staring at her work before it was nicely framed.

"Can I help you?" she hissed. Surprised and slightly intimidated, he didn't answer and gave the priest his full attention. Standing up, she moved to the back, far away from the families and friends that were actually there to enjoy the wedding.

Hmm... Frowning, she shook her head and hit the delete button. That was one awful picture.

Hearing the words "I do" coming from the bride's mouth, Canvas looked up and hurried to the aisle, kneeling on one knee and zooming in on the two as they were ready to kiss. Timing it with an experienced hand, she captured the exact moment their lips touched and was able to take a couple of more because they began to get really into it. The priest cleared his throat and they broke apart in embarrassment, their cheeks tinting pink (ah! The perfect shot! Snap!). Laughs went around the crowd at their mistake, though the Father shook his head. Even Canvas cracked a smile, but only for a moment because then her serious demeanor took over when she remembered that she was supposed to be working. There was no time for lollygagging.

After a while, the wedding was over. Everyone got up to congratulate the happy new couple while the photographer stood off to the side next to a tall pillar, examining the memory saved inside her camera, the greatest friend she could ever ask for. She nodded her head every now and again when she stumbled upon a rather good picture, and then glared daggers when she came upon some rather nasty ones; there were even a couple that would've been pretty good had this one person's head not been in the way or she had not made the rookie mistake of putting her finger over the lens or shook about too much. Quietly, she chastised herself, mentally taking note to never make such a mistake again; it'd cost her her reputation, that's for sure...

Finally, the bride and groom made their way toward her; his hand was around her waist and she was twiddling with her expensive ring with a goofy grin on her face.

"How is it, Young?" the now Mrs. Perry asked. "I do hope you were able to get some good footage; I want to remember this for the rest of my life and have some photos for our daughter to see!" She patted the noticeable but small bump that was her stomach. Yes, she was pregnant, only a few weeks though; it was a common thing in the Americans nowadays. Unconsciously, Canvas touched her own stomach, promising herself that she wouldn't have sex until marriage--if she ever got there, which she highly doubted.

"Don't worry," she said with a nod, "It'll turn out beautifully. Stop by my place tomorrow afternoon around 2 and we'll decide which frames you want and which photos you'd like."

The man and woman smiled gratefully. "Thank you very much, Miss." After that was over, Canvas headed out of the church, but not before stopping by the statue of Mary and bowing politely and respectfully; heading outside, she looked up at the sky crying frozen tears. Taking off her hat, she slapped it a couple of times against her thighs, smoothed out the top of her hair (careful not to mess up the curls) and then placed it back on her head with a slight pat. Zipping up her jacket, she slung the camera's lanyard over her neck and headed toward the parking lot, climbing onto her motorcycle. She had forgotten to bring the helmet; she couldn't quite remember if it was illegal to ride around without a helmet. Hopefully, a police officer won't stop her...

As Canvas rode down the street, she noticed a taxi parked outside a rather magnificent building, one she wasn't quite familiar with. Stopping her ride, she put on the brakes and turned on her camera, seeing a figure step out of the car. The girl was very pretty, though she could only see the back of her head. Holding up her camera, Canvas took a few pictures of the random scene to be remembered, suspended in time for all the years to come.

This lucky girl was going to be young. Forever.

Snap!

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[[.forever.]]
[[.young.]]

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[showers in april]

яєd

ѕο мαηy мзмояιзѕ

мy нзαd ιѕ gоιηg τо зχρlоdз

ι cαη’τ τнιηκ ѕτяαιgнτ

╔═══════════════╗

He watched as she traced the the rim of the mug lightly, her movements majestic and elegant; even a simple gesture such as that had him mesmerized. Being a wolf, he was strong and wild; at times, during the hunt or at night, he had to be swift and silent, good on his feet, but Memosa could make a small, trivial thing such as touching a cup seem so divine. It was an amazing trait, in his opinion.

That was the type of person she was, willing to sacrifice her own happiness for the sake of the pack's. In a way, that made Red and Memosa quite similar; neither wanted to impose their judgment and opinions on the others if it meant breaking that fragile thing called joy. But, as leader of them, he had to worry not only about the little ones, but also the snake. She was part of the pack, and no matter how much she wanted to put others before her, her happiness also mattered.

Her gaze fell to the tea leaves. The conversation was over; she had nothing more to say, and he knew not what to say. Showing emotions was a complicated thing for him; Red hadn't even wanted to become a human. He despised this species with all of his being; their complicated rituals, their useless feelings, it was too much for him. He missed the simple life of being a wolf. Missed the caress of the arctic wind and the soft snow beneath his paws. At night, there was no sun beating down on his back; his only companion being the quiet moon.

He looked down at his own cup, stared at the pulp of the orange juice swirling in a lake of its own blood. What did she want, he wondered. At night, when he looked up at the dark sky to listen to the many stories the stars had to tell; at night, when the rest of the pack was in their bed, reliving the day's events; at night, when she was alone in her room, away from the disturbances of society, what did she think about? What did she desire, not because it would help the pack, not because she felt like she should, but because it was what she wanted for herself, just for her and no one else.

The sound of the near silent ruffles of clothing brought his attention back to the moment at hand. She crossed the kitchen to where he sat and brought her hands against his face. Smooth. Gentle. More than a hundred stories to tell. More than a hundred whispers to murmur. Still, Red tensed, not used to the contact of another. The last one he allowed to touch him willingly had been his mate; he could still feel her around him, her head pressed against him, ears flattened down.

While she wished for him and the others to be happy, he wished for her to also be able to smile freely. He would fight for that day, if need be. Did she still hold romantic feelings for him? That was something he could not approve for, though; that was something he could not stand by. Red was not right for her. He was too caught up in the past, hardened by experiences, cold from the touch of death. Memosa needed someone warmer, someone who could love her with all his being, without any restraints or dark secrets. She needed someone better than him, someone who understood her. Someone....else.

Red watched as she lingered for a moment in the kitchen. She was a real beauty; anyone could see that. But not his. Never his. He would not love; he could not love. He would end up alone because that was his destiny, that was what was necessary. It was hard to explain; he had not yet worked it out, either. He could only hope that pushing her away was the trigger she needed to realize that he was not the right one.

He could hear her in the other room, shuffling about until she lied down on the couch. It seemed that she would not budge in her decision to stay home, no matter how much he thought it was best for her to get out of the house.

"You, of all people, should be allowed the chance to be selfish." Red said, not knowing if she heard him from all the way over there.

Getting up, he headed for the window. It was a light drizzle; maybe it would become harder throughout the day. Exiting the kitchen, he stepped into the hallway, standing at the entrance of the living room. Was there something he could say? Was there something he was supposed to say? Rubbing the back of his neck with slight frustration, he let out a sigh and left to stand on the front porch, bearing first hand witness to the weather outside.

The neighborhood was empty; everyone was either at work or at school, and if not, they were tucked nice and warm inside their houses. Red sat down on the wooden floor, the roof saving his hide from the the rain. He thought about what he should do at the moment. Leave? The rest of the pack needed protection. Maybe the snake was venomous, but what could the rabbit do? The bird could fly, but he could not carry everyone on his back. The cat was agile, but how was she to fare against someone stronger, quicker, more powerful?

And then there was Megan. She played so beautifully, and he found her presence to be equally as calming as Memosa's. Was she looking for him? Waiting for him to arrive so that he could listen to her songs, give opinions on her latest compositions?

Red could not understand the inner workings of the shepherd that thought the one missing lamb was more important than the flock, but he supposed that, for the moment, he could abandon the others for this one snake.

"My ancestors," he mumbled, shaking his head. "Forgive your humble son for mixing his priorities." He lied down, arms folded underneath his head, eyes scanning the barrier above him, shielding the wolf from the onslaught of the skies.

"Memosa," he called back into the house. Red had left the door open; a cool breeze slipped inside and explored the house curiously. "I'm outside if you need me."

For the moment, he would play the role of the foolish shepherd.

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ι’м α ѕοldιзя
ωоuηdзd ѕо ι мuѕτ gινз uρ τнз ғιgнτ
τнзяз’ѕ ηοτнιηg мояз ғοя мз
lзαd мз αωαy
οя lзανз мз lyιηg нзяз

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[showers in april]

яιιѕкз
cзlзѕтιαl ωαяяιoя oғ cнзoηgяyoηg
тнз bαηdιт quззη
α мαѕтзя тнιзғ

"juѕт looкιηg ouт
ғoя nuмbзя onз"



╔══════════════════════╗

Zyborg. The perfect place for thrills, the thrills of a lifetime really.


Adrenaline pumping through her veins. Her feet, silent, quick, as she ran across the roof tops, rushing away from the guards down on the ground, aiming their weapons at her, ready to chop off her head. In her hand, slung over her back, was a bag filled with goods; money and jewelry, riches that she had stolen and would be able to sell on the black market for some more cash. And what would she do with the money then? Buy some things, maybe a trinket if it was amusing enough; mostly, though, she'd just stuff herself and throw the rest of the money to someone else.


Riske merely needed enough to survive, needed enough only to feed her growling belly. The extra money? She didn't care about it. Anyone could have it; she'd throw it to the little kids, give it to a random stranger, pass it off to a fellow pick pocket or gift it to one of her loyal bandits.


She was only in this business for the rush.


A guard below her threw a spear and she readied herself. Some people had the experience in slow motion, seeing everything as though outside of their bodies, eight times slower than it was supposed to be, but not Riske. She saw everything quickly, and her body moved in time with the music; motions were fast and rapid, on instinct. During the rush, you didn't need to think. You didn't need to worry. Everything was by a gut feeling.


Living life on the edge.


She dodged the weapon and skidded off the roof on the other side of the house, her eyes glowing a dark green as she peered through the walls of the home right beside her; no one was inside.


"Perfect." There was a stack of crates right beneath their window; she landed on them quietly and pulled out a couple of pins and picked the lock within five seconds, silently slipping inside as the guards ran past, screaming for her, asking where she was and ordering her to come out so they could arrest and take her to jail. Riske scoffed. What kind of incentive was that for her to come out?


After waiting several minutes, the clock ticking by as she held her breath. Nothing happened, and she let it out with a cocky smirk and a chuckle.


"Dumbasses," the thief laughed to herself as she looked around the house. It wasn't that nice. Nothing seemed to scream at her, and she found nothing of interest, so she left everything as it was. Well, there was a nice loaf of bread on the table, which she snatched up and ate on the way out, meeting the woman of the house as she did so.


"You really should be careful," Riske warned, finishing the last of the bread right in front of the shocked lady. "There have been thieves sighted around here lately." And with that, she dashed around her and ran off down the street, jumping over people, sliding underneath them and hopping over crates to get to her destination, feeling a thrill of energy blast through her as the woman screamed and yelled to no avail.


Riske followed a secret trail that she had found, leading outside the kingdom. She couldn't walk through the front gates, after all; the very sight of her would send the guards in a frenzy to capture her, and she couldn't have that. Finding the whole that was covered by a box of crap, she pushed the container aside and slipped underneath it, making sure to push the box back into its rightful position of protecting the exit that she had found.


Once outside, the thief stretched her arms, jingling the bag with a beam. Her heart slowed down; that event was enough drug for her to last several hours, and then soon afterward, her body with be jittery with excitement until she couldn't handle it anymore. When that happened, she would return to Zyborg and steal something else, purposely rattling the guards' patience so they could run after her. Where was the fun in stealing if you didn't have the opportunity to get caught, anyways?


She found her bandits hiding out in the forest beside the path, waiting to ambush any group of travelers that were dumb enough to pass through their territory. Upon seeing her, they bowed respectfully, and she whacked them gently upside their heads as a way to tell them to stand up. They laughed and did as they were expected to do, and she climbed up into a tree and leaned against its thick bark, throwing her catch to her second in command.


"Life is good."

╚══════════════════════╝

[showers in april]

xxxxx xxxxx

╒ xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ╕
•the•jαded•bαrmαid•
╘ xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ╛

t h e n a m e ' s

m o m o ~

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

α cυsτoмзя?

coмз

sιτ α sρзll.

ι'll bязω yoυ υρ

soмзτнiηg

ωαям

Momo sighed, rubbing the back of her neck tiredly before returning to her job of cleaning the fine glass with a clean cloth. There was a low murmur in the bar, as usual, but instead of what she would normally do -- i.e. listen in on conversations with a slightly curious ear --, the barmaid was actually more interested in what was going on in her own mind, something that was quite strange, in her opinion. Being the type of person she was, Momo was more frequently immersed in the problems of others, and very rarely did she ever have time to herself to think and ponder about...

The war?

Was that one contemplated when they were alone in the depths of their mind? Hmm. Well, what could she say about it? She could only hope that it ended soon, though she honestly couldn't care which side one. To her, everything was money, as greedy as that made her seem, but that was how the world worked. One needed money to survive, to buy food and clothes and shelter. Don't expect some random person to just accept you into their home willy nilly!

Another sigh escape her lips. Even if she didn't care which side prevailed, Momo prayed with all her might that the war would end soon. So many people were suffering, so many people were dying. It was best that this battle was over and done with quickly, so that life could get back to normal, so that people would start to live and reach for the skies with hope and joy than dying on the side of the road, reaching up only because they did not want to die.

Movement was detected in the corner of her eyes as an old man took a seat a foot away from her, sipping an old, chipped cup with a warm beam. The woman said nothing to him, paid him little attention though a small, sad smile did seep onto her face; she recognized him, but he was long dead. It seemed that her postcognition was acting up again; he said nothing, didn't even spare her a glance. Everything he did was silent, muted, as though he wasn't really there. Another echo of the man who once owned the tavern, one of the few memories that replayed before her that had nothing to do with blood splattering or women getting raped or soldiers dying on the spot from a lethal wound.

If only he could see how well the business was.

Good man, good man.

Momo looked away, placing down the cup and picking up another one; though it was clean and smooth, she wiped the invisible stains away anyways, trying to keep her hands occupied.

The door then opened and the barmaid looked up, replacing the thoughtful and almost gloomy expression she had on her face when she saw that another customer had returned. Oh, it was a face she recognized, too.

"Welcome! Sit a spell and lemme hear what you've got to tell me today, love. You want the usual, babycakes? Comin' right up."

[[ o o c ]] ::
nothing really happening in this first post
lol

xxxxx xxxxx

[showers in april]

final post

xxxxxxxxxx
╬══→ ϯӈε ʂϼɑѡȵ of ʂɑϯɑȵ ӈɨϻʂεʆғ

╠ ♚ʂʆɑȡε♚ ╣

ɑ ʟɩttʟə ɩnstɑʙɩʟɩtʏ ɴəvər hurt ɑɴʏoɴə

♖ ♗ ♘ ♙ ♚ ♛ ♜ ♝ ♞ ♟


ѣoѡ ȡoѡȵ ғor ↔ ϯӈε ҝɨȵɕ ϻɑȡϻɑȵ


ღ ɩ prɑʏ ʏou lɩstəɴ to rəɑsoɴ ღ

╔══════════════╗
┏━━━━━━━━━┓
fɑtherxxxx
i must ɑskxx
ɑre youxxx
proudxxxx
of mexxxx
now?xxxx
┗━━━━━━━━━┛
╚══════════════╝

Gael Wilson jolted awake with a start; his eyes were wide as panic and fear danced in them merrily, enjoying the chaos inside his mind as he tried to piece together what was reality and what was part of the dream. They always felt so real, always felt as if he was right there and it was the real world, not the Sandman's realm where even the laws of physics did not apply. He usually had a hard time trying to remember the night before for the first few minutes of awaking; bits of the illusion was scattered about his recollections, vivid and horrifying as his mind's eye scanned everything that was to be scanned, analyzing and probing until his heart rate calmed down and his breathing returned to its normal pace. After a while, though, the dream began to fade and he was left recalling the night of his birthday, how he had ambushed the Justice League -- once former Teen Titans -- in the name of his father and family's honor.

Something in him warned him on forgetting the vision. It told him to grasp at it, remember it, carve it into his subconscious because it would help him in the future; it would tell him of things he did not wish to see, tell him of things that he could not see because love and naivety blinded him to such obvious facts. But there was another warning, and that one told him that the truth may not be what he wanted to know, and sometimes ignorance was bliss -- though that was a phrase his father debunked quite easily. Knowledge was power, and if you controlled the mainstream of information, you controlled everything. So, why did he not grasp at this nightmare, once so close to his fingers but now drifting away? Gael had the distinct suspicion that he really didn't want to know just yet.

The room was chilly, though that was most likely because of the light sheen of sweat that coated his body. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. At times like that, when a strange emptiness seemed to grip his heart and refuse to let go, he liked to be by Terra. It wasn't that she had a calming presence or that he was so desperately in love with her that her mere thought would bring a sense of tranquility to his raging and tumultuous mind; it was because seeing her reminded him of the time he found her, a woman of his father's story, a woman of legend, still underground and still alive. Looking at her put everything back in perspective, because once he found her, he realized his purpose; upon seeing her, Gael remembered his goal and the reasons why he did what he did and was doing what he was doing. At the moment though, she was nowhere to be found; still, that didn't bother him. He had been taught not to depend solely upon others, anyways.

Getting up, he headed for the bathroom and turned on the faucet in the shower; leaning against the smooth sink, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. A boy -- no, a young man of eighteen, looked back at him. He could see little bits of resemblance to his father; strong cheekbones, eyes that seemed to be holding back an insanity. A sense of pride and horror mixed itself in the confines of his stomach, at war with each other; he wasn't sure whether to be happy or disgusted that he could see his father's face in his own reflection. If he looked closer, he could see features from the mother he never knew and similarities from the brothers he did not see anymore. The only thing that seemed to be his were the bags under his eyes that had begun to form due to the many nightmares; the whole problem with sleeping had begun the night he found Terra, or, more specifically, when he understood the meaning of his existence. Was it a coincidence...or was it something more? Maybe he should understand the origin of the hallucinations, but with all that was going on around him, who had time for petty dreams? He had a city to conquer, and his father was pushing him to expand his reaches from Jump City to Gotham and then, quite possibly, the whole world. He didn't even have the energy to think about the nightmares!

Stripping the rest of his body, he stepped into the hot, steamy water, leaning against the tiled wall as he furrowed his brows. The shower was not time for relaxation; it was time to ponder on his next move. There were so many options, so many alternatives and paths, so many roads he could take that he didn't know which one was the best one that ensured his seat on the throne; he didn't have enough information to decided which avenue would guarantee that he ruled Jump City. As Gael reviewed everything possible, he decided that that was enough time in the shower; normally, something, anything, would tip one of the road's favor, but this time, there was nothing. His brain normally worked in such a way that it was almost like he could see the future, but it was just actually him considering possibilities and understanding the right path to walk on toward the clear end result, but this time, it was as though everything led into darkness. Nothing led to the future he wanted, needed, because he didn't have all the factors accounted for. He needed to know more, understand better, and to do that, he needed the Teen Titans, the second generation heroes that thought they could go against him.

Reaching out to turn off the waterfall that pounded against his red skin from the heat, he paused and stared at his hands. There was a scar on the palm of the left hand, and another scar exact in everyone on the palm of his right. One had been tended to by his brother and the other by his father; each healed differently, each treated differently, and though they were exactly alike, they were vastly different. His left hand had always been reaching out for his brother, and the right hand was always reaching out for his father. It seemed that when his sibling had disappeared, the left hand's goal had gone from sight; there was nothing to reach for on that side, and the decision had been made that he should follow only on his father's path, but sometimes...sometimes he wondered. Had that direction really been closed off?

Shaking his head, he allowed the thoughts to wash away and down the drain before turning off the faucet and wrapping at towel around his waist. With another, he dried his hair and then draped it over his shoulders, quickly washing his mouth and brushing it before trading one of the towels in for some actual pants. Gael stepped out of the bathroom and his room, not bothering to find a shirt; he entered the main room with the large wall of windows, showing a beautiful view of earth. He paused, staring at what would soon be his. There were swirls of white over patches of land and water; there were man made objects that could be seen from space and several cities under the cover of darkness that shown brighter than anything he had ever seen before.

"Poor little insect caught in the web," he murmured to himself, a little song his father had taught him. "Cry, cry, cry. The spider is hungry and shall pluck your little wings first."

With an almost maniacal grin to match his father's, Gael turned to where he had the members of the Justice League bound and gagged. His gray eyes laughed at how they seemed to glower at him with such hatred, as though looks could stop his heart from beating or intimidate him into releasing them and calling off the hunt of their children. But he was stronger. He was strong and powerful and he could withstand much pain; a little nasty look from hostages would do nothing to even sway him a centimeter. Gael knew they had much to say to him, and as he took several steps toward them and bent his knees until he was on the balls of his feet, arms supported by his legs, he knew they wanted nothing more than to lash out at his throat right then and there. Ha! But they couldn't! Tied up they were.

"Just like flies, eh?" he chuckled, something that seemed to have a touch of insanity to it. "Well, my little insects," he grinned, patting one of them on the head; he could feel the hero tense up and emit a growl from their throat. He leaned in close until they could sense the craze that he was quietly emitting. "Whose wing should I rip off first?"

♖ ♗ ♘ ♙ ♚ ♛ ♜ ♝ ♞ ♟
oȵʆɏ oȵε ʆεғϯ ʂϯɑȵȡɨȵɕ

[showers in april]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxx► ✼ ஐ ✼ ◄ ɔʜilɗrεn's sʜow ɔʜɑrɑɔtεr ↙↙

ɩ told tʜε wɩtcʜ doctor ɩ wɑs ɩn lovε wɩtʜ you

ɩ told tʜε wɩtcʜ doctor ɩ wɑs ɩn lovε wɩth you

ɑnd tʜεn thε wɩtcʜ doctor ʜε told mε wʜɑt to do

hε told mε

...


ɭoɭɭɩρoρs!!

junpei xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx junko xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx junichi xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx jung

Jun stared seriously at the girl opposite him, his eyes intense and rather odd on his adorable face. Tension hung high in the air as no words were exchanged between the two of them; instead, they merely gazed at the other, one glowering as if trying to burn a hole in her forehead and the other quivering slightly with fear. Everyone held their breath as the little boy opened his mouth, about to say something; chairs squeaked silently as people leaned forward in their chairs, shoes squealed to no one in particular, impatiently awaiting the next words. Was it even possible for the atmosphere to get even thicker? Well, possibility or not, it happened; the girl gulped, afraid that he'd jump her in a heartbeat and rip out her lungs quickly following her stomach. Why those particular organs? She didn't know for sure.

" You know, " Jung began, currently standing somewhere behind the girl. Jun couldn't quite see for sure, and he wasn't about to take her eyes off his co-worker just to check, so he kept his stare steady, willing himself to search deep down into the black pit people called their soul and pulled out as much intensity as he could muster. " I'm pretty sure you're supposed to SAY YOUR FREAKIN LINE. " The abrupt loudness didn't startle him; actually, he was quite used to Jung's random outbursts. That was just the type of character he was, and the many years with the boisterous idiot and Jun was immune, showing no sign that he had heard because of his stillness. He knew that they were waiting for him to say his line, but it wasn't time yet. Just a little more for drama . . . And anyways, a short little wait couldn't count as a dramatic pause, right? Right! And he was a pro at acting - - everyone said so; he knew exactly what he was doing. " Why are you so slow?! " Jung huffed, but again, he was ignored. Jung wasn't an actor, so he had no idea what he was talking about! He really needed to just shut up and let Jun do his job.

Once more, he opened his mouth. It was time. He took in a slight breath, his eyes narrowing, the atmosphere darkening with evil intent before he could recite his lines with such feeling and emotion that all would be blown away! It mattered not if the critiques hated the show; it mattered not if people hated the story line. None could deny that he was good at what he did; no one could claim he wasn't a genius at breathing people to life. If someone dared to have the audacity to say such a thing? Well, they were obviously lying. After all, he didn't get to the top just because he was cute. . . . Okay, that was part of it, but really, it was because he was good - - no, great - - no, MAGNIFICENT at acting! And that wasn't arrogance and overconfidence - - that was a fact. Ask anyone.

" Sana, " he started. The girl across from him blinked suspiciously, pulling back just slightly. It wasn't a bad way to portray her character, but he would've thought of better ways. She was a rather aggressive one, so he might've raised a brow and folded his arms, maybe trying a bit of impatient tapping with his foot and a huff with his breath, but that was just him. There were millions of ways to portray characters, and it all depended on perspective. " Sana, you're a b***h. "

" And . . . CUT! " the director yelled and Jun slumped his straight and tense shoulders. " Good job, everyone! That's the last scene we've needed! Congratulations! The first episode will premier at the end of the year somewhere toward Christmas; be looking for it! " Everyone clapped and shook hands, hugging and yelling excitedly as they began to take the set down and take out the film for editing and such, whatever it was they did back there after the scenes were done. Jun had been curious once in a while and sent Jung to go check it out, but he merely shrugged his shoulders and reported back with a, " Nothing interesting. " After that, he had worried over it no more and merely continued his career without another thought toward what others did to make the show successful.

The girl in front of him let out a sigh and smiled tentatively at Jun before running off; finally, Jung was in his full view, along with Junko who had a ridiculously frightened Junpei cowering behind her like a weenie, and Junichi was most likely off eating food from the buffet table (which was not meant for him!). " That was long, " Junko sighed, fanning herself with her hand though the set was rather cool. " And really boring. Maybe Junichi has the right idea to ditch when you start saying your lines because I can't stand just waiting around for you to finish. " She was rather annoying, but Jun tolerated her because she had a few good ideas every now and again.

" I thought it was fun. " Jun shrugged his shoulders and his manager patted his head with a smile, thinking he was speaking to him. No one could see his four friends, so of course they wouldn't realize it when he was talking to them. Sure, it became a little lonely sometimes, talking to kids no one else could talk to; some would even consider it strange, but for the most part, they kept him company and didn't seem to mind that he was the only one they could communicate with, and if it was fine with them, then it was fine with him!

" That's only because you were the one talking! The rest of us had to linger around boredly. Do you know how bored is boredly? Very bored, that's what! " she snapped, mumbling her world classic " idiot . . . " under her breath. Jung shoved her her shoulder and she stumbled further with the scaredy - cat latched onto her. " Hey! Watch it, Jung, you idiot, or I'll smack you! " Her threat went unnoticed, but she didn't care because she then flipped her hair over her shoulders and straightened the pretty skirt she was wearing. Turning back to Jun, she tapped her fingers against her elbows intention as she crossed her arms. " Can we go now? "

Junpei shook his head rapidly, terror gripping at his heart as it normally did. He was always afraid of something - - whether it was the expiration date on bottles of milk or the monster beneath the bed. Nothing escaped his fear; it seemed that every day he was bawling and terrified of something new! They had even begun a list, but because it was getting too much to be lugging around everywhere they went, they decided to just leave it as it was - - at a whopping 672 items! Obviously, it could be beaten, and obviously, it probably was. " I - I don't want to go . . . " he mumbled, releasing his hold on Junko to twiddle with his thumbs. " It sounds so sca - scary . . . ! N - new people a - and a n - new place to live . . . I d - don't w - want to g - go. "

Jung scoffed, abhorred by his cowardly nature. " Junpei, if it was up to you, we'd be stuck inside forever! Never going anywhere! You're such a weenie! Tch. Grow some, you big weenie weiner! "

" He's right, " Jun nodded. " We really wouldn't get anything done if you were in charge. " A couple of people passed him by with confused stares but he hadn't noticed as he followed his friends to the buffet table. He stood on his tip toes, reaching for the bottle of water that was too far away for him to merely swipe with ease. Sometimes, being short and young was so annoying! Abruptly, though, Junichi kicked it down because he was standing on top of the table; his mouth was covered in chocolate stains and his fingers were each a different color for a different sauce with a deliciously different taste. " All you do is eat. You're gonna get fat, fatty. "

" Hey! " he frowned, licking his hand and jumping off the table. " What are we talking about? "

" Oh, just Junpei and his scaredy - ness. "

" It's s - safer inside! " Junpei protested, his bottom lip jutting out but everyone merely rolled their eyes. That was what he always said, but once they were inside the house, everything around them became a menacing danger out to get them. The scissors were no longer of the safety kind, the pain was no longer the washable, and the pillows were out to smother them when they weren't looking.

" I already accepted! " Jun explained with a shake of his head. " Mother and Father wanted us to go on the show, so we have to go on the show. It doesn't matter if you think it's scary or not, Junpei, because we're still going. Mother even said, ' And that's final! ' when I told her what you said. " His words put a worried scowl on Junpei's face as he tried to work out the details of how they were to die a miserable and painful death on the reality show. He had been referring about their new job, the one a producer had contacted them via e - mail, voice mail, text, and a letter, too. He had reached them every which way he could to make sure Jun and his family would receive the letter of confirmation and instructions. He himself had no thoughts on it; it only mattered if his parents wanted him to pursue it, and they had, so pursue it he did. They returned a message, confirming his participation. The day had finally come after what seemed like ages, mainly because of Junichi's complaints that the possibility of food could be next to nonexistent, Jung's annoying excitement about a new adventure, Junko's constant eye - rolls, and Junpei's terrified screams that woke everyone up in the middle of the night. Who had nightmares about stamps anyways?!

Before anyone could comment, the director had walked up to Jun, causing all of them to look up with curiosity as he explained there was a limousine outside waiting for them (but his exacts words were ' for you, ' not ' for you and your friends ' because, after all, they were not seen by regular eyes). " But, I haven't packed, yet! " Then, he replied that he was informed that Jun's suitcase was already filled to the brim with his clothes. With a smile, the little boy nodded and headed for the exit in a rush with the four other boys tailing behind him (until Jung took the lead with Junpei falling behind).

" I wonder what brothers and sisters are waiting for us there . . . ! "


shabaa dabaa dooo ~


The four stood outside the rather big house with wide eyes. The limo had left moments before, leaving Jun to lug the giant suitcase that was four times his size by himself - - well, that wasn't true. He had his four friends to help him, if that was what one could call it. Junko was sitting at the top, acting like the queen she thought she was; Junpei was off to the side, crying about how the suitcase was going to crush them all to death and that going inside the house was a very bad idea; only Jung and Junichi were actually helping, and even then, the perpetual mutterings of both did nothing to improve their pace.

After finally making it all the way up to the door, the three were breathing heavily, glaring at the two that were not helping.

" You really need to lose some weight," Jun grumbled. " It's like pulling an elephant, Junko! AN ELEPHANT! "

" Shut up! " she hissed angrily, slapping his head as he ducked just in time before she did any more damage to his brain. " Now, be quiet, you big idiots; there's a note here in front of the door. "

" Don't read it! " Junpei cried, hiding behind the suitcase, absolutely oblivious to the glares of the other two that had been forcefully pushing the luggage without his desired help. " What if it says something mean . . . ? ! "

" Oh, shut it. " She read the letter to herself and then reread it outline when Junichi complained that she was being selfish and Jung threatened to cut her hair if she didn't (no one took notice of how Junpei seemed to be curled up on the floor in a fetal position as though the words would someone stop his heart and end his world).

" Is that it? That's not much. " Jun shrugged his shoulders, motioning for the others to smack some sense into Junpei and get him back to his senses. " Come on, guys; we need to get inside. "

He opened the door and peeked inside, seeing no one just yet. " Hello? HELLOOOO! ANYONE HERE? HELLOOOO! "

m o o d :: curious

☂ ███████ ████████████████████████████ ████☂

l o c a t i o n :: house one entrance

☂ ███████ ████████████████████████████ ████☂

e x t r a t h o u g h t s ::

☂ ███████ ████████████████████████████ ████☂

jun :: oh this is so exciting! but junko needs to get up off her lazy a** and help us and junpei needs to stop being such a big baby. this suitcase is too big for the three of us!

☂ ███████ ████████████████████████████ ████☂

junpei ::

i think this is a really bad idea . . . ! this house gives me the heebie jeebies!
☂ ███████ ████████████████████████████ !████☂

junko ::

what a weird note. and this house looks nothing like a castle! ugh!!
☂ ███████ ████████████████████████████ ████☂

junichi ::

i'm hungry.
☂ ███████ ████████████████████████████ ████ ☂

jung ::

ALRIGHT! LET'S GET THIS ADVENTURE ON THE WAY! YEAHH!!

[showers in april]

rough draft

xxxxxxxxxx
╬══→ ϯӈε ʂϼɑѡȵ of ʂɑϯɑȵ ӈɨϻʂεʆғ

╠ ♚ʂʆɑȡε♚ ╣

ɑ ʟɩttʟə ɩnstɑʙɩʟɩtʏ ɴəvər hurt ɑɴʏoɴə

♖ ♗ ♘ ♙ ♚ ♛ ♜ ♝ ♞ ♟


ѣoѡ ȡoѡȵ ғor ↔ ϯӈε ҝɨȵɕ ϻɑȡϻɑȵ


ღ ɩ prɑʏ ʏou lɩstəɴ to rəɑsoɴ ღ

╔══════════════╗
┏━━━━━━━━━┓
fɑtherxxxx
i must ɑskxx
ɑre youxxx
proudxxxx
of mexxxx
now?xxxx
┗━━━━━━━━━┛
╚══════════════╝

Gael Wilson jolted awake with a start, eyes wide with panic and fear dancing wildly and mischievously in his orbs before disappearing as his eyelids fluttered shut; darkness engulfed his vision. He leaned his head back against the wall, feel a little chilly with the perspiration that drenched his body in a light coat; slowly, he breathed, steadying his heart rate as he gradually took in the reins over his body. He could feel himself calming down from the exercise, his limbs relaxing until soon, everything was back to normal. The boy -- no, now he was a young man of eighteen years -- raised his hand and clenched and unclenched it, checking his muscles. There were no fearful twitches, no signs of a fight-or-flight reaction; all systems were a go.

That had been a trick his brother taught him, and at the thought of his sibling flashing through his mind nonchalantly, as though it was an every day thing, Gael frowned, his mood dampening even further after that little fiasco in his sleep: another nightmare. How long had it been since the last one? He couldn't honestly remember, and though he couldn't recall the contents of this particular dream, he knew that it was, by far, the worst he had ever gone through; and he knew there were more to come, some maybe even more horrifying and painful as the one he had just been put through. In the past, there were rare occurrences of the nightmares; in the past, they were not as terrifying as that one, and, strangely enough, it had come to him on the night of his eighteenth birthday. It had come to him on the night he had taken the Titans and locked them up. Was it some sort of coincidence? Or...?

Curiosity peaked, he concentrated, thinking and pondering, pushing his memory to the max to try and reclaim even a small, tiny bit of the dream that spooked him. Most of the time, he couldn't remember his nightmares. If he was lucky, he'd be able to retrieve incoherent pieces that made no sense and only served to send a shiver down his spine. But, Gael wasn't a lucky person. He didn't consider himself the unluckiest person alive, nor did he even consider himself unlucky, but there was no way on Earth or any other planet that he was a fortunate one. Not at all.

Pain shot through him. He attempted to muffle the shouts of agony as he clutched at his head, grabbing onto the ends of his hair in an futile and desperate try to block the enormous amount of hurt that was whirling itself onto him, but Gael remembered his goal. He needed to know what was tormenting him all the nights and all the nights to come; he couldn't just sit back and let it dominate him. If it got any worse, he could see himself becoming an insomniac, and though that alternative was looking mighty fine at the moment, he knew that in the long run, it would have a dangerous effect on his mind and body.

Endure it! he thought bitterly, relying on the teachings of his father. He had been educated in the ways of withstanding torture; he had the scars to proof. The man who demanded fear and respect showed no mercy, even on his own flesh and blood, but Gael knew it was all for the best. He knew that everything his father did, it was out of love; it was out of protection. The physical and mental suffering he had been put through as a child, all of it was done in order for him to become stronger, in order for him to become more than a man, than a coward, a weakling.

His father had always told him that men were stupid. Honestly, Gael couldn't understand where his father was coming from when he said that people were nothing more than selfish, greedy low-lives that needed guidance to steer them on the right course of knowledge. Gael had always admired the surface-dwellers, a name he had taken to calling them when he was nothing more than a little child of four (though only in his head). They were...in short, they were brilliant with their skyscrapers and their majestic cloths and their vast philosophies and libraries! The libraries with their storage of books, an amount that even his own personal library could not hold a candle to. How was it that people who made it to the moon could be nothing more than mere cockroaches meant to be used and thrown away? Sometimes, his father made no sense, but what he said was law and so Gael had no choice but to obey and believe.

As though the thought of his father was the trigger, flashes of his dream came back to him in harsh, cruel waves. He winced, biting down on his lip until it bled, reminding himself to bear it and that it would be over soon.

Roads. He was standing in the middle of it, but there was more than one destination, more than two or three or four. Hundreds. Thousands, maybe even millions of paths led out from the one spot he stood. Which way to go? Which one to pick? And there were men clouded in darkness all standing upon each, coaxing him to follow; they brought to him a sense of fear and dread. Distrust rang loudly in his ears, but he couldn't stand there forever; he needed to make a choice. Glowing red eyes stared back at him expectantly, but which to believe? Which to --?

And that was the end of it. Collapsing onto his bed, he lied there still and quiet, save for the sound of his heavy breathing as the headache slowly subsided. His suspicions had been confirmed. It was the same nightmare as before. He had witnessed it before his eighteenth birthday; Gael had had that very dream the night his brother Jericho left without a word. With a growl, he chucked the pillow at the wall; getting up, he slipped on his shirt and left his dreary chamber and headed out, bare feet touching stone cold floors. He strode lightly as though he had once been a ghost, footsteps barely making any noise as they glided across the ground with an air of confidence. He may not have known where to have gone while he had been stuck in the middle of all those roads, but he knew exactly where he was going right then and there.

The door to the dungeon slammed open and he stood in its entrance, ready to take some of his anger out on the captives when his back stiffened at the sight of his father bent over one of the Titans. All were knocked out cold. Slade made no turn toward Gael, despite his son's rather loud introduction.

"Father." He felt his limbs become rigid. What was the man doing? There was a needle in one hand and a scalpel in the other, though it looked nothing like a scalpel he had ever seen before; his father must've done something to it -- 'upgraded' it, as Slade had so fondly put it so many times. "I did not realize you were here. My apologies; I did not mean to come in so rudely." But Slade took no notice of his son's words, or if he did, he did not respond. Instead, he circled the group tied to the pole, eyeing each and every one of them with a deadly gaze. He was suddenly afraid for the Titans, despite the fact that they were the enemy. When his father was angry -- and his father had been angry many times at Gael, so he was an expert at reading the atmosphere around Slade Senior -- he was an absolute monster, a demon of Hell. Gael wouldn't wish that upon even his most hated of enemies.

He needed to tread lightly; though the waters seemed still, there were black and murky. One could not even began to imagine what lied beneath. "Father...?" he started softly, holding his breath in case one of the two weapons said person was holding happened to magically fly toward Gael. "Father, what is it that you are doing in the dungeon?" He saw the needle come down toward the woman and he couldn't help but take a few rapid steps toward them and yell, "Wait!"

That seemed to do it, for Slade paused. The air turned cold as the man turned deliberately toward his son; Gael swallowed a thick lump in his throat, knowing he had just crossed the line. Before he had time to react, the scalpel flew toward him and embedded itself int he wall a mere millimeter from his ear; he dared not move to even check to make sure he was unharmed for experience taught him to never take his eyes off his father when there was something in his hands, sharp or not. He had learned the hard way that anything could be turned into a weapon.

"You dare command me, Gael?" Though he spoke mechanically, monotonously calm, there was a steel edge to Slade's voice; it took everything in his power for the young man to suppress the shiver that threatened to crawl down his spine.

He had to think his next words carefully. His father may be past his prime but Gael couldn't say for certain that he'd be able to beat his dad in a one-on-one fight, and he didn't want to find out the result. "I...just thought that..." The handle holding the needle twitched purposely. "Maybe it'd be best to save the torture for later," he finished. "In front of the second generation Titans, maybe? You'd get your experiments as well as satisfaction in hearing the screams from not only the first generation Titans but the second generation, also."

Silence as his father pondered at the suggestion. Gael reached inside his pants' pocket to find his cell phone, figuring that, should he live through this encounter with his obviously off-the-rocker dad, he'd need to text Jinx and tell her to hurry her a** up in locating the new Titans. After a moment or two of Gael imagining ways to attempt and best his father, Slade stepped toward his son (resulting in another instinctive stiffening) and pulled out the blade, patting his son on the head.

"My son," he said with a cold and calculating smile -- one of the warmest one could ever get from the man. "Your devious tactics make me proud." Inwardly, he let out an inaudible sigh. "I shall be in my lab; please do not disturb me. I take it you can handle this affair without my overview?" Without waiting for a reply, Slade left the dungeon and left Gael to lean against the wall in a small and tired victory. Sometimes, his father was just too intense to handle after waking up from a nightmare; scratch that, his father was just too intense to handle period.

Taking out his phone, he flipped it open and quickly typed out a message:

To: Jinx
From: Gael
Message: Give me an update on the search for the heroes.

He clicked the send button and slid the device back into his pocket, turning his gaze onto the unconscious adults several feet away from him. He saved just saved their lives from a man that was more demented than the devil. How ironic that their savior was the one who captured them, but he supposed they wouldn't find any amount of humor in that thought. Hell, at the moment, he didn't even find it funny, though the wry chuckle escaping his lips could only be explained by temporary insanity.

♖ ♗ ♘ ♙ ♚ ♛ ♜ ♝ ♞ ♟
oȵʆɏ oȵε ʆεғϯ ʂϯɑȵȡɨȵɕ

[showers in april]

x
x
x

╔══════════════╗
ay yo!
da name's
яɩκɑ
an' don' you fergit it!
╚══════════════╝

⇩

"Aw, god dammit," Rika cussed under her breath as she took her steps toward the large double doors of the library. She had completely lost track of time while she had been there, not exactly studying. Actually, now that all the testing was over and all she had left to do was wait for the forms and letters from the universities and community colleges that would reveal her future. The past years, she had been in the library for so long, reading and studying and taking practice tests, that now, with so much free time, Rika just didn't feel right unless she killed several hours in the library. If only James could see her now; what would he think? Maybe he'd laugh. Maybe he'd even encourage her. Rika rolled her eyes, remembering that she shouldn't be dwelling on the past.

Leaning against the glass doors, she pressed her forehead against it. "I hate life," she grumbled, glaring at the rain pounding against the cement as if it had some age - old grudge to satiate. Back in Houston, it was always hot, hot, and hot. Here in Seattle, despite living there for -- what, four years now? She still couldn't get used to the dreary and wet weather that seemed to loom over the city day and night. "I didn't even bring the damn umbrella. Gawd." She shifted her weight to a different foot each minute, rubbing her hands together as if she was about to do some heavy lifting. Though she did not bring an umbrella, it was good that she had brought along a jacket; it was always a little too chilly for her. "Aiight!" she said, trying to pump herself up for the run home. The bus was just too expensive nowadays! She really needed to find a job... "Le's do dis thang!"

Bracing herself for the wind and lightning and thunder, she yelled out loud obscenities when the strong howls of the storm almost knocked her over. She slid and skidded over the water, flailing her arms to regain her balance. Carelessly shoving her soaked hair out of her face, she looked down the street and tried to figure out which way her house was located. It wasn't that far, she knew that for sure; less than a mile, she was willing to bet. Back in the ghettos, Rika would've found a nice and warm place in the library to sleep -- if they had a library. There would've been no way she was going to risk her life with Street Fiters roaming the neighborhoods, looking for meat! But in Seattle, though crime was pretty bad, she was sure nothing could scare her in this white - washed, white - trash town. What did they have in their alleyways? Wannabes? Bullies? A buncha gringos thinkin they hard? Feh.

Before she could cross the street, a car honked at her and sped by recklessly close, causing her to spin and fall in a rather murky puddle, the rain still beating on her frail shoulders. "Ay!" she screamed, shaking an enraged fist at the speeding vehicle. "Da light's red, a*****e!" If there was one thing she hated more than white trash, it would probably be white trash that could drive their car right. Who in their right mind would run a red light when obviously, there was someone trying to cross the road? This fool ain't got no common sense! "Aw, damn," she sighed, glaring at the cut on the palm of her hand. The red river intermingled with the clear and pure water rushing down her hand, forming a kind of pink stream. Rika looked up at where the car used to be, and though he was no longer there, she still succumbed to the urge of cursing his unknown name. "GO BACK TA DRIVER'S ED, DUMBASS."

[showers in april]

♩

"x txo x wxixsxhxixnxgx ix hxaxdx xbxoxoxbxsx "

███♪

██████♫

" xmxy xwxaxy xoxr xtxhxe xhxixgxhxwxaxyx "

████████♬

Momo ran a hand through her long hair, untangling the knots within. She sighed and nodded her head without turning around to face the owner of the voice. "Yeah, this guy I know. I hope he gets hit by a truck or... I dunno. Eaten by a giant snail. Something painful." She let out another sigh, playing with a few strands as her eyes wandered across the people at the fountain; some looked oddly familiar, but she couldn't quite figure out why. "You probably don't know him, but he's a total a**. He may have a pretty face and talk like a nice guy, but deep inside... I swear, he's the spawn of Satan himself. Really! It's like I'm the only one who knows! Everyone else is tricked by his act, but not me. Hooohhh nooo, not me. Not Jaydyn Reane, nope."

Finally, she turned around to continue the conversation with this stranger, though once her eyes landed on his stupid smirk, her mouth nearly dropped. "YOU!" she shouted, jumping a foot in the air and landing a foot away; her index finger pointed accusingly at him, as though he had committed a terrible act of murder. "What the hell where you doing, creeping behind me like some kind of creeping creeper?! God! How creepy!" Realizing that she was making a scene with all her yelling, she cleared her throat and waved to those that were giving her strange looks. She turned back to Liam and hissed quietly, "What do you want? Here to gloat about how you caught a poor girl like me unaware in the girls' bathroom? Ugh."

Momo worked up a hard glare and sent it his way. "I'll have you know that if you think you've got the upper hand, you are totally mistaken. I've taken self - defense classes, you know. My body is a weapon, and I can shove your nose so far back into your head that it touches your brain! So, if you think I'm gonna be some kind of weird sex toy in your creeper dreams, you have another thing coming! Momo is no one's sex toy!" It was a name she referred herself as, but not normally aloud. He had gotten her quite worked up to have her forget that no one but her realized her nickname.

Abruptly, she realized the situation she was currently in. How could she threaten the person that held her secret high above her head? Was she crazy?! Was she suicidal?! Asking for a public humiliation! Immediately regretting her words but too prideful to apologize, she cleared her throat and brushed several strands of hair out of her face and behind her ear. "Ahem. Well. Uh. I mean, if you...like...I dunno...need something...uh. Yeah. Sure. You..." she swallowed a thick lump. "You're...not gonna tell..right?"

"Brɑin wɑve, mɑin wɑve"
Psycho got ɑ high➸kick
Collect and select
Show me your .b.e.s.t. set

"Crystɑls☂blisters"
It's ɑll over now
Ρsʏcʜo cɑne
You're so keen
I need some more cɑndy cɑne

[showers in april]

яєd

мя. ғlαмз

ѕомз dαy

you’ll lзαvз мз τoo

╔═══════════════╗

Hunter smacked his arm, and Red cussed under his breath, grinning in amusement. It hurt, yeah, but it was still funny. Hunter was probably the only person who could hit him and not get a punch in return; anyone else and Red would've jumped at their throat.

Oh, yes, the times he was out in the freezing cold because Mr. Hunter had caught him cleaning out their refrigerator. It would've been hilarious had he not stumbled and fell into their giant pool. In winter. And it was snowing. And it was cold. Ugh, awful, the cruel, cruel man. He knew Red didn't like winter weather, too, and took advantage of that fact! So sadistic.

And the cookies! He had thought the sweet woman had baked him some cookies because she wanted to fix their broken relationship, start anew! Well, she wanted to start something alright... "It's a good thing I hate cookies..." he mumbled, remembering how he had politely refused because he wasn't a fan of such sugary foods.

Actually, those weren't Mrs. Hunter's only attempts to take his life, and Mr. Hunter had thrown him out plenty of times (the most being during the colder seasons just to try and freeze Red to death). At that rate, he wouldn't live to be twenty... "I think I oughtta start writing my will." he joked, laughing. A quiet chuckle even escaped Hunter's lips, and Red's grin widened. "Check you out, homey." He nudged the kid's side with his elbow. "You know how many chicks would drop dead just to see you smile like that? It wouldn't hurt, you know."

Red was quite insulted by what his best friend said. Was he comparing him to Justin? JUSTIN? Oh, no he didn't! And he even accused him of being jealous because he got all the chicks? "Damn flirt." Red grumbled, folding his arms stubbornly over his chest like a little child that was told the world did not revolve around him. "It's only cause he's white; freakin 99% of the student body is white! Where the hell are the Asian chicks anyways?" He actually wasn't a big fan of orientals, mainly because all the ones he had ever met were anime nerds--not even nerds, they were obsessed, going so far as to dye their hair white with pink tips.

"You know, if I had inherited my dad's genes..." He shook his head as though it was a shame, thinking about his father's blond hair and baby blue eyes and his brother's black hair and blue eyes (which was the weirdest combination ever, in Red's opinion), and then his mind went over his mother's chinky eyes and black hair. It as a good thing he had dyed his hair red, like a stereotypical Asian, but hey, better than having that dark colored hair...."But no, I'm stuck looking like I work at a nail salon. Geez... Yeah, it would suck... Somehow, I think somebody hates us up there and would probably separate us. Your dad and mom didn't bribe anyone did they?" He could see that happening, Mrs. Hunter paying one of the people to make sure Red ended as far away as possible from her son. "And anyways, Pop wants me to stick with you. He thinks that some of your 'good sense' is gonna rub off on me. Pfft! As if... For that to happen, you need some good sense to begin with!"

Red scowled, seeing that Hunter was replying to some more texts. "Man, just turn it off. Let them worry a bit; it'll do them some good or crap like that." First, Mrs. Hunter would call Mr. Hunter, and then Mr. Hunter would call Pop, and then Pop would text Red and tell him to stop being such a bad influence on Hunter. And then Red would ignore it, and life would go on.

Natasha was grinning at Hunter again. The hell? If she liked him so much, why didn't she just come on over? "Hey, hey," Another nudge to Hunter's side. "Flash her a smile. Come on, don't be shy."

He furrowed his brows at the mere thought Hunter receiving German homework from his Nazi of a father. "Are you freakin serious? Dude, just throw it out. Or give it to me; I'll finish it for you." He chuckled darkly under his breath, thinking of all the things he could write on it. "Study for finals? You always get A's. I don't understand what you need to study for, smartass."

╚═══════════════╝

[showers in april]

╔═══════════════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═══════════════════════════════════════════════════╝

⋟⋟xxxit's only when you .ғ.ɑ.ʟ.ʟ.

that you learn

whether or not

you can


ғxxxxxxxʟxxxxxxxʏ

█████████████████████████████████████████████████████████

нαʟє cняιsтιиє sυммєяs

x

Running.

The heat from the sun's angry rays pounded on her shoulders as she ran for her life; it was as though the golden king was mocking her from where he sat so far up in the sky on his throne. He was safe from the horrors of reality, the dreadfulness of day-to-day life on the planet that was more similar to hell than anything else, but she wasn't, unfortunately, and that was why he laughed at her. Hale tripped, scraping her knees and the palms of her hands. The familiar sight of blood coating her skin was comforting in a morbid way, but she pushed the stinging pain to the back of her mind and pushed herself up. Keep running, she thought. Don't stop. If she stopped, it meant screaming agony. If she stopped, it meant death.

A loud roar from behind her and suddenly, sharp pain erupted from her back. She was falling through the ground into the pits of hell where her body caught fire. The greedy flames licked her hungrily, sparing no mercy. She clenched her eyes shut and shrieked, rolling over only to fall into another pit of fire. Her back was burning; Hale could feel something clawing at it, eating her skin to get through to her spine. She reached behind her, intent on solving the problem, but little green dragons began digging their fangs into her skin and no matter what she did, she couldn't get away.

"s**t!" Hale sat up in a frenzy, her eyes wide with terror, a feeling that she was used to. Her breathing came out in quick pants as her lungs demanded more air; she pressed her hand to her chest, trying to calm her heart down to a more stable rate. Collapsing onto the covers, she stared up at the dark ceiling of the cavern that seemed to go on forever. More nightmares. When would they stop? She could hear people staring at her due to her outburst, but she closed her eyes and ignored them. Nightmares were a common thing nowadays, and it wasn't just her; there were a lot of people who would wake up screaming, especially the little kids. It was so exhausting, though; it was as if she never slept, always running when she was awake and always running in her dreams. Couldn't she get a break?

Tasting copper, she pressed her hand to her lips and stared at the evidence; she was bleeding again. It was during times like these that made her really miss chap stick and lip gloss and the wonderful advantages of make up. Muttering another curse, she swung her legs over onto the floor just as the Headwoman shouted for everyone to get up and get ready. It wasn't her first time sleeping in the barracks; actually, she had been there several days already, having decided to be part of the Hatching, or whatever it was, a week or so before. At the thought of being so close to a dragon, her toes curled and she suppressed a shiver that threatened to gnaw at her body. Ever since she had agreed on becoming a rider -- or try to, anyways --, she had had plenty of thoughts of being eaten or mauled to death, sometimes even squished because a giant reptile that hated her to the core decided to sit on her. Not a very pretty way to go out, really.

The scar on her back pulsed painfully. Hale winced, resisting the urge to scratch at it. It was fully healed, but she was always afraid of it accidentally opening up because she rubbed it the wrong way. Or because a dragon was trying to sink its claws into her -- again. Deciding that a shower would clear her mind of unwanted thoughts, Hale made her way to the showers, standing in line like the rest of the female population. Some bumped into her on the way to their destinations; she didn't look at them or say anything, but kept her gaze firmly glued to the ground where the pebbles were so interesting.

Another girl crashed her shoulder into Hale's, most likely on accident, but on habit, Hale was the one that apologized. "Sorry," she mumbled quietly. It felt like everyone was staring at her again for her strange words, so the first chance she got, she slipped into an individual shower stall; community showers were frightening beyond belief, so that wasn't an option. Her face was burning from embarrassment and humiliation. Why in the world had she apologized? It made no sense whatsoever! The other girl was the one at fault, yet before she could even say anything, Hale had admitted to being the culprit.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" She pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead and then pulled at her hair in frustration like a little child. "Hale, you're so stupid! Ugh! Sometimes, I just want to -- just... Ugh...!"

The cold water was like a wake up call. Her body immediately relaxed and she cringed slightly when it hit a sensitive spot on her scar. Looking over her shoulder, she was only able to catch the beginning of the claw mark. She could still remember the horrible, blood-colored eyes that seemed to stake a claim on her, the predator's prey. But as scary as it was, she could still feel the exhilaration of being so close to something so divine and god-like, almost. And, just like a god, its wrath was deadly and terrible. The pain and horrors, the writhing on the floor in absolute agony, was not something she wanted to relive; if she had a second try at that event, she probably would've turned tail and darted off in the opposite direction, despite its alluring beauty.

Someone rapped on the stall door irritably and she flushed another humiliating red. She was taking way too long. Quickly, she finished up her business cleaning her body and turned off the water only to find that she had forgotten to grab a towel. Great. "Just freakin great." She sighed in almost a depressed way, upset that she was so ditzy, and slid on her original clothes. They stuck to her wet body as she rapidly left the room, once again staring at the ground as she walked.

As Hale wrung the water out of her hair, she headed toward the cafeteria; if her stomach growling was any indication, she was starving. She had been staying at Zion for the better part of six months, and despite being there for so long, it always took her breath away to walk along the dimly lit corridors filled with people who had lived there their whole lives and people like her -- survivors, scavengers, orphans looking for a place to live. She stayed close to the walls, out of people's ways like a shy and scared little rabbit. So far, starting off as the new Hale Summers wasn't going so well. She felt like the old Hale Summers no matter what she did, but that was probably because she never really did anything at all.

x

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