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 Posted: Wed Jul 21, 2010 2:18 am
 There was something prophetic about the seventh day, the way that the clouds blotted out the sun, made her guess at the time rather than gauging the hour by the ebb and flow of shadows. Everything was dark with the threat of rain, smelling wetted down despite the undelivered downpour. Avalie stalked through the humidity on silent paws, purposefully not acknowledging how the grasses wound around her ankles, green fingers that seemed to be trying to keep her from continuing her journey. She'd given her brother the slip earlier, using a flimsy excuse and vanishing before he could put it all together, doubling back and taking little-known paths to avoid being detected. If she was walking willingly into a monster's den, it would not be with her brother beside her, acting valiantly on her behalf. B had said she was expected, but there hadn't been a plus one attached to the invitation, and she wouldn't risk Chrys. It wasn't that she lacked self-preservation instinct, just that it played second fiddle to a couple of exceptions. One of them was her brother, someone she would have gladly laid down her life for in a fight. The other was this. She might have felt shallow, but idiotically complicit was probably more apt given the situation. Of all the unthinking choices she'd gone through with, this was high on the list.
A week ago, she'd left fuming and off-kilter, which had helped her forget what loomed ahead, at least for a few hours. An unwitting mercy inflicted on her by the very creature she couldn't stand, all of it tied up into the selfsame reason. B-Sharp, or Glims, or whatever he went by at any given moment, the pintsized intimidator who blew hot and cold with rage, kept in check solely on the word of a Nightmare. It was difficult to remember what inconsequential retaliation she'd paid him after he assured her she meant nothing, whether or not a response had slithered past her lips at all. By then, the kitsusagi had felt too drained to notice whether her thoughts were fluttering out in a timely manner, assuming he was even listening to start. And although she fought with herself up until the moment she set foot beyond the woods' reach, the truth was that the decision to return had never come into question. Regime was crafty, of that she had no doubt, and his motives for granting her wish remained largely unknown. But she hadn't agreed to anything other than arriving at an appointed time, a detail she continually turned over in her head, losing strength the further she fled from her natural habitat. Then there was the matter of what these wings were, if they could help her fly to better match the family she had severed ties with out of shame. That act had been selfish, senseless, and this was no better, except it might undo past mistakes, everything from the caterpillar marks she'd borne since birth and onward. She could paint herself any color she liked, smear her fur until it was earthy brown, wring the life from flowers to bring about pink hues, but her naked spine was what truly set her apart. To have a chance to change the outcome, to rewrite a freak occurrence – the danger paled in comparison.
Once she hit the edge of the junkyard, she worked on breathing through her mouth and quieting her pulse, depositing the metallic item she'd carried on the scraped-up soil. In the dimness, the heap was infinitely more disturbing, built on a cemetery of poppies and losing its distinct spires to the grey afternoon. Avalie closed her eyes against the sight, her lids inscribed with another set, larger and brighter than the true ones. Settling back onto her hind legs, she picked up a paw and kicked the can, sending it skittering in the lamest summoning ritual she could muster. It wasn't the same canister that had known the touch of music; that instrument had been lost, disposed of once her fear had subsided into sheepishness, and she was almost sorry for it now.
"Come and get me." She murmured to the dank piles and the water-laden sky, tucking the calm firmly around her body while she waited for a flash of frankenstein green to appear and be her guide.
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Posted: Thu Jul 22, 2010 5:53 am
 He'd been busy as of late, and with work came solace like nothing else. With the thickened taste of rain on the air, he and his mentor had made the appropriate preparations for draining. It'd take a little more than a simple summer storm to fill up the main crater Regime had marked as his main base of operation and luxury, but there was furniture that would suffer if it became damp. Despite living in the core of a trash heap, the Nightmare apparently disliked mold on his personals.
There was music on the wind. Where Avalie stood, she may have caught the occasional howl of a lone trumpet, snatched and contorted by the contours of the refuse. B. Sharp had been waiting, still aside from the occassional heave of his chest and the twitch of his tails, ticking in count to a song he must have heard a dozen times. It may have been a rediculous pacifier, but it let his head wring itself free of thought for a time. Then, a clatter, obvious as a brick through a window. The world comes back and he moves, rolling onto his feet to go and investigate the noise. Regime has an appointment today - that is how he must think of it. Just about the same time that he finds her, she’ll see him, slinking around the corner of another altar to material worth. His dull eyes find hers then lower to the can, as if he recognizes the new addition. How could he? He doesn’t stop to be sentimental, but he recognizes the gesture and steps over it, closing in with measured steps.
“You’re expected.” He says simply, trying to keep his nose from wrinkling as the scent of honeysuckle hits him as bluntly as the striking color of her fur. It isn’t that it’s unpleasant (though he would claim as much), it’s just not something he’s used to, raised in metal, rot, and ash. It’s something she carries in with her, wherever she comes from, and something he has thoughtlessly come to associate with her. B looks her over a moment, and there's something in the way he traces her shoulders, something... But meeting her eyes, it's gone, faded and dim as the clouds that poise themselves overhead. Not cold this time- distant.
"Come." He turns and begins to climb.
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Posted: Sat Jul 24, 2010 12:43 am
Sitting still required greater willpower than it should have, body clenched to prevent the urge to fidget. Was she late? The failed butterfly mulled over how long it had taken to arrive, how many minutes she'd spent convincing Chrys that she wouldn't be gone for long. It didn't seem likely, nor was it impossible. The wind changed while she squinted up to see the sun through its screen of cobweb-colored silk, and suddenly there was a sound filtering toward her, ruffling through her coat and making her shiver. It was vaguely musical to her untrained ear, but much mangled by the distance, retaining only a forlorn, echoing quality that was reminiscent of someone calling out and finding no answer. Avalie soaked it in, ears held high and chin turned toward where it originated from, as if the stray notes might hold an undeciphered message.
Distraction came in the shape of Regime's right hand man, manifesting so gradually that she didn't even startle. She peered at him without moving her head, apprehension in her stance as he examined the offered item. It was probably not her brightest gesture, but she'd promised a can, and a can she had brought. An instrument for a musician in denial, she wanted to say, but the words stuck in her throat, aware that his mercurial moods weren't to be trusted. If he had changed his mind about being a good little errand boy, his handler was nowhere in sight to rein him in, and she was one very unlucky package. But his demeanor lacked the menace it had on other occasions, bypassing the kicked object and coming straight to her. The utter lack of anything readable in his gaze grew unnerving, her toes curling uncomfortably into the packed dirt. At least the anger had been warm, something that indicated life dwelling beneath. Now he was a vacant, prickly suit worn by dark-pelted insects, a hive of them synchronizing to create a parody of consciousness. If she caught a scrap of emotion there, it was probably her projecting.
"So I was told." She said, smooth and easy despite her contemplations. The female watched him carefully, feeling where his gaze lingered as he mechanically sized her up. Forcefully, she steered her thoughts away from segmented legs and compound eyes, annoyed at the childishness of it. Then he turned, making no additional remarks beyond a command to follow. She rose from her sit, letting him take a few steps and matching his pace, searching for something concrete to say when he gave her nothing to work with. As it turned out, all her focus was needed to navigate the piles, the moisture in the air turning the garbage soft and susceptible to weight. Her leg vanished up to her knee with sloppy placement, swallowed by spongy matter that might have been something useful in another existence. She tugged it free and backed away, regarding the gap that was already shifting closed with pinched features. Sighing under her breath, she resumed the ascent, taking a few seconds to scope an area out before placing her feet.
They neared the top, and her stomach was knotting little by little, excitement giving way to dread, washed away by potential elation, all of it pummeling her at once. What would she find at the summit? More disappointment? Or the one thing that would make her whole? The prospect was dizzying, the compilation of her bets hinged on this one wager, all or nothing. She stalled a few feet from the edge, hesitating and watching B-Sharp's uncomplicated lope upward. Of course he could go without being afraid: he had nothing to lose, less than nothing to gain. And what was it that Regime sought to obtain by giving her anything, let alone this? It was worrying to find that she barely cared for his terms, so long as the end result was everything promised.
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Posted: Sun Jul 25, 2010 9:00 am
That mercurial temper was tempted to believe she was trying to mock him with her reply, but common sense and a vague recollection seemed to suggest she was just nervous. Even with him snarling in her face, or careening down a hill at her, she had felt compelled to speak before fleeing. Perhaps it was the same now- though there was no tangible threat of teeth, she had still put faith in the paws of a pair of shady strangers. The fact that she was here now said something, he knew, and it wasn't too hard to guess what. B did think that Avalie was stupid, but her share of idiocy did not bare the brand of gullibility or witlessness. She wanted these wings, then, badly.
He turned his head mildly as he heard a squelch behind him, fighting a smirk at seeing her sink somewhat into the pile. Indeed, little pitfalls were everywhere in his home. As long as he didn't have to go back and dig her out, he could afford to be a little amused, sinister (or childish) as it may have been. "You might apologize when you step in someone," The beetles told the caterpillar, and with his brand of toneless buzzing, it was hard to tell whether he was serious or not.
The crater had changed since she'd last been there. The smell of ash still wafted thick from its core, but the terrain had somewhat changed. First, there was a tent, worn but whole. It looked exactly like the type humans went camping in and the weather had beat against it so hard that it was now up to debate what color its hide had truly been. It was amazing what sort of things you could find set by the curb of a human household, and if there was anyone could make treasure out of trash, it was Regime. The adopted canvas structure sat on one side of the glorified pit while the other seemed to have been dug down into a sort of trough, where the ribs of a pipe were beginning to show. There had been no music as they climbed the summit, but now that they stood looking down at the tent, something happened.
It was the drums first, patting out a speedy but soft tempo, building until the hum of brass joined in and threw the song into full chaos. It could be a party- it could be a fight. B felt his skin prickle a little before he was shaking his head, expression unreadable though it almost seemed as if his tails twitched, one way then the next.
"Sing sing sing," He told her offhandedly, then remembered who she was and better composed himself to recite protocol. "You wait here. I'll check if he's ready and then you'll come down."
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Posted: Mon Aug 23, 2010 12:00 am
Avalie almost missed it when she was spoken to, some incomprehensible comment that had her staring at him before glancing down at the wet, pulpy stuff still clinging to her fur. Had he just said someone? It was impossible to tell if he was personifying the trash, or noting the presence of his antennae-wielding brethren beneath; and why her mind kept diverting to the skittering lives of insects, she had no idea. With anyone else it would have registered as a jest needing to be volleyed, but the flatness gave her pause, the mouth it came from more so. Green toes flexed, but in the end she set them down without a word, irritation blooming with bitter snapdragon flavor across her tongue. More than likely, he was just messing with her head, keeping her muddled and preoccupied. It might have been unintentional on his part, his ease in this place at odds with all the warnings clawing into her dull, thudding head. Or maybe it was further orders, something passed down from resident monarch to this sole, listening companion, watching their company for signs of fear. It was hard not to wobble into that mindset, more prey than colleague if she thought too much on the details. If only there was some history of prescience in her family, something solid to tell her that she needed to go, rush back the way she'd come and never again consider making deals with unspoken conditions sprinkled in. But all she had was the curdled warmth in her guts to go by, and that was willing to lean in any direction.
At the top, she was treated to a scene of change below, brows furrowing at the limp shelter sitting where before there had been cushions. There were a few other differences, none of them decorative, the unearthed passage an anomaly of craftsmanship. It was unquestionably the same location, the burned out smell held in check by the atmosphere, but still thickening the air. She mused briefly on the torrential flood it would take to wash it all away, the aroma and the edifice itself. Given years and the right climate, dormant seedlings hidden under mountains of rubble might take root again, wrap their conqueror up in an embrace fit to crush.
A rumble of sound made her innards recoil unexpectedly, the outburst deftly weaving itself into a rhythm that held a near threatening appeal. His words barely interrupted it, but she managed to hear, a command or request strung up in repetition. Her gaze sharpened when she looked to him, catching the baiting flick to the tips of his tails, and a quiver of amusement at his susceptibility worked its way to the surface. "Or dance." She replied, softly enough that the music stood a chance of drowning it out. Given a second, he was all business again, and though this was nothing like the cadence picked off of a tin can, too raucous by far, she nodded to show her understanding, settling back onto her haunches to wait. This close to the end, it was hard to bring herself to think further on wings, on flying or being joined to her family by something more telling than blood.
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Posted: Sun Apr 17, 2011 1:58 am
 She didn't get the reference, and perhaps that was just as well. Her comment would receive a snort, just as imperceptible if not more so. B. Sharp did not dance; he was far too cool for that. Considering himself dismissed, he slunk his way down into the valley, sliding occasionally in the rubbish though he never lost his footing, slur and staccato. Landing on stable ground was just a jump from a few feet up, tails flicking neatly in his wake as he slid halfway into the tent. The conversation that took place within was drowned out by the music, but suffice to say, it was brief. B leaned back just enough to spot Avalie, giving a mere tilt of his head toward the tent to beckon her before he disappeared inside of the weather-worn shelter. She would come or she wouldn't- it seemed to be yet another test of her desires, but if she'd come this far, it was a safe bet that she'd follow through.
The interior was rather spacious despite what one might first perceive. It was easily large enough to fit a handful of humans, with three separate alcoves branching off of the main chamber. It seemed as if everything important, or at least things that were too precious to take damage from the rain, was collected there, stacked or otherwise sheltered by moth-eaten linens. Predictably, the smell of smoke overpowered everything else. B sat on one side of the entrance, posed stiff and attentive with his ears slicked back, just another item in the menagerie now. Regime easily commanded all of the attention in the tent, sprawled right in the center atop a collection of couch cushions and comforters. He was very much a lounging lord in this dim, little world, exerting effort only in the way of holding his head up and facing the pseudodoor. A beaten box-radio took shelter by his ashborn tails, the battered and overlarge speakers still humming that swinging tune of brass. The music died down to a drumming tempo and there were trombones whining a languid tale. Mercifully, the fur of one of Regime’s own tails twitched the notch down so that the volume wasn’t so overpowering; likely because the Nightmare himself wanted no real competition.
“Avalie, baby, right on time and not a moment too soon! It’s shaping up to get ugly out there, isn’t it?” He boomed amicably, “Come on and take a seat, kitten; we got you covered with good company.”
Of course, the only real ‘seat’ happened to be under Regime and within a few feet of his paws. If Avalie wasn’t so inclined to be sitting near the monstrous form of good-tidings, she’d be taking a place on the cardboard floor near the door and its now-silent keeper.
“How’ve you been, sugar?”
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Posted: Wed Apr 20, 2011 11:33 pm
Once B had slipped down to the center of the clutter and left her to her own devices, Avalie allowed bright eyes to drift closed, mouth cracking partially to let the hint of far-off rain dampen her tongue. If not for the smoky aftertaste that lingered, it might have been refreshing. Instead, her throat tightened suddenly, as though it would choke her on the spot. She forced it to relax by slow degrees, swallowing the last of her saliva and diverting all attempts to breathe to her nose. This was ridiculous, on the verge of brainless, and if she went back now, she could bury the distress, the distrust in a patch of clovers, and the Nightmare and his minion would be unable to follow. The kitsusagi cast her gaze back to the forest she'd so recently abandoned, feeling her heart hanging heavy in her chest and knowing that its twin beat somewhere out there, that a pang would shudder through them both when her brother discovered her well-intentioned lie. But she was here to obtain her whole dream as well as a fragment of his, of that she was almost certain. With wings of her own, it wouldn't be nearly as impossible a task to rehabilitate Chrys, convincing him to soar up among the clouds like nature had intended. He hated his wings because she resented them herself, because even the love between them had not been enough to keep her from leaving the first time. They had forgiven each other, but it would always exist between them, her want and his want-not, a shared disappointment for failing to be what the other needed.
Still, her life was beginning to read like one massive, repetitive bout of waiting, occasionally punctuated by uncanny episodes of reunion and violence. It did not take long, however, for B was already gesturing, and she paused to unfetter her misgivings for only a second before starting down. The inside of the crater was slightly more stable for having been rearranged, and her handicap from before no longer played a role, but she still skidded occasionally on water-slick surfaces, clenching a hiss between her jaws and trying not to twist an ankle. She could not afford to cripple herself when she needed all her faculties and abilities accounted for, about to walk into a scenario that Regime had cooked up without giving her the details.
At the bottom, the tent looked larger than she had suspected, and she neared the entrance guardedly, using one prominent ear to flick the flap back up and away from her eyes. Perhaps the most unnerving thing outside had been the lack of shadows, no full, whispery canopy to shade her shape from what little sunlight trickled through the clouds. But within the tent it was a deluge of shadow, and if the cast of it held even the slightest tint of green, it was the sickly, perverse variety. Her vision took a moment to adjust, and by then Regime had spoken, a rumbling note like the lightning outdoors had decided to funnel its thunder through his throat. To her credit, she managed not to flinch, stepping quietly in and speaking with a casualness she did not feel. "Regime. I expect you're well?" If he wanted her to play along, she was willing to test the boundaries of her own patience sooner than she would try his. Sitting cozy in his domain, the parody of luxury surrounding them seemed to please him like nothing else, and she had to concede a measure of admiration for the way he handled things. How he had scared up a very human piece of gear in the middle of nowhere made her pulse thrum a little faster, hope manifesting as a fluttering strength in the places where her veins ran thickest. It was the only thing that held her in that place, kept her from bolting out of the den and back to where she belonged. Finding something this rare meant that his reach was longer than she could guess at, and that maybe this was not the waste of time she half-expected. That still did not mean it also wasn't some sort of trap.
At the Nightmare's invitation, she spared a glance around the area, calculating her options while the tips of her tails played uneasily against the threshold, preferring diluted sunshine to the charred air of the indoors. B. Sharp was a breathing statue directly to her left, Regime a mountain of muscle and charm a few feet away. She trusted neither of them, but at least the latter had yet to physically threaten her, even if he could ultimately do more damage. Her approach was unhurried, stare falling for an instant to lax claws before she sat, close enough that the motions of the tiny replicated city on his fur were visible. "Fine. Nothing to complain about." She weighed her words carefully, halting for a heartbeat before adding. "Aside from the obvious, anyway." The muscles in her back flexed uncertainly at their mention, and she managed a useless smile, teeth set to hold back a mouth full of sand tilled in intricate lines of trepidation. If she didn't start managing her breathing better, saying anything more would give an idea of how shallowly she was drawing in oxygen. For all that she was putting on a brave face to bargain for her wings, there was no doubt in her mind that there were few positions worse than the one she occupied now.
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