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 Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2008 7:36 pm
"Ouch!"
Luc had seethed as his hand recoiled from the hot steam spewing from the pipes. A heavy feeling had developed in his chest, and anxiously he had heaved while attending his sudden injury. His tongue had washed over the palm of his hand, tending to it with surprising focus and dedication until it was no longer an issue of concern. Then, with a glowering look, Luc had condemned the steam to the darkest depths of a child's hatred before storming away without a further glimmer of intrigue.
It was late in the afternoon when the childish endeavor with the steaming pipes had come to a halt. The sun had hung about the horizon, glowering forward at the little figure weaving through the metal work to escape beneath the fence which lined the Yard. With the wind at his side, Luc had gathered his hat into his strong hand. He had stuffed it haphazardly into the pocket of his cover-alls, and with a disheartened look he had carried himself along. His fingers had brushed the linkings of the flimsy wall marking the territory, each motion generating a rhythmic clanking to follow the tune of the hissing steam in the distance. As bitter as he was, there was a pleasant feel to Luc's face. He was a contented little savage, wild and free within the world he called Junction. Indeed, it was his home - and there was nothing more satisfactory and beautiful to him that the rusted fencing and broken metalwork which flooded the ancient junkyard. The towers of garbage and useless inventory were like the decor of a palace. Peering into the yard he had just departed, Luc could only smile an adventurous and curious smile as he skipped along in search of other means to occupy himself about the vast terrain. It was his home and world, and there were many things to see beyond the far-stretching pipes he had suddenly grown to abhor.
Curving sharply around a corner, Luc had found the main post at the entry gate. Abandoned and broken down, it appeared as if it had not been inhabited by a security guard for centuries. The filthy decadence was nothing appalling. If anything, Luc had seemed sincerely enthused. Shortly after discovering the main entry and road, Luc had located the Post, which had inevitably become his domain, and his domain alone. Whenever there was work to be done, or rather, time to be spared, he found himself holed up within the tiny little room - surrounded only by the company of his tools, half-inventions, and dust. He scarcely had an aim for his ventures, but there was joy to be found within them - and thus Luc excitedly found his mundane routine of work, more work, and the belief that it was all part of a finer game.
He was contented, nonetheless. As he hurried down the stretch of lawn near the main road, Luc had slithered towards the Post's door to enter the cabin. His tiny fingers had pressed on the door; his ears had perked at the shrill creaking noise the hinges gave. Despite opening the door, Luc did not enter, though. He had glanced over his shoulder - and at once his attention had been stolen by a hubcap scattered on the other side of the road. A glimmer of creative ideal had poisoned his logic, and thus he shut the door to the Post once more ... Only to bound out into the road, not bothering to so much as check to see if anyone were coming. The wary words of his wily leader echoed within the back of his mind, a distant sound not acknowledge for sake of childish bewilderment and mechanical instinct.
Luc, whatever you do, don't let anyone see you alone.
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Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2008 8:08 pm
In all honesty Quincy hadn’t seen so much garbage in his life. The mounds of the junkyard filled his nostrils with an abundance of foreign scents. A single sniff and the smell of decay, iron, rust and dirt overpowered his senses with an almost delightful way. He assumed he should be appalled like Aaron was as he dug through the trash for ‘adequate parts’. The Hiccup pulled his RAF jacket closer as she toed around a bolt on the moist ground and haphazardly listened as his pseudo father bickered on the phone with Marie as to why he was sent to the ‘dump’ to find statue material. In truth, Quincy was having quite the adventure with interests piqued. If Marie and the rest of the family could make pretty things out of metal like statues of giraffes and pigs, why couldn’t he make a statue too? Recycling suddenly became an interesting subject for the boy as he stood amongst what most thought was trash and was that a rubber tire?
The boy fidgeted as he eyed a far-gone tricycle wheel and felt his right canine ache. Aaron wouldn’t be happy with him if he wandered off. Yet, he never said not to wander off. Quincy perked a speckled ear up, as sentry to his guardian’s movements as he inched his way over to the glinting wheel. His tail picked up something of a sway as he tip toed over to the tricycle and the ever-tempting wheel. A small finger flicked upwards and nudged the wheel’s tread, just to test the boundaries of his discovery, and gave a small yelp of joy as the wheel tilted on a still intact axel. A harder push and the more it spun. He stopped and leered into the center of the wheel, spinning easily on its axis. It was oddly reminiscent of a propeller like the one on his toy plane.
Next thing that he knew was that the bike was stationary but the wheel was rolling down the slight slope that lead towards the road and then from there it was pure instinct. Excitedly Quincy raced after the trike wheel, blood pumping through his ears as he followed it through a gate, hole crevice, opening, whatever it was that lead to the road onto the sidewalk and oh dear that is a street. Quincy skid to a halt, miraculously not falling straight onto his face and stopped. He wasn’t supposed to cross streets to chase after something. And he should always remember to look both ways. He paused as he saw a streak of blue and orange out of his corner vision.
“Wait! Not safe!” He called out at the stranger or thing and raced after him, it, whatever it didn’t matter it just needed to be safe. He stepped out onto the road and pulled the fellow boy out and back to the curb before collapsing in strain and worry. “You need to look both ways and hold someone’s hand. Just to be safe.” Quincy said in a voice far to stern for a youngster, scolding whomever he had pulled from the road before even noticing who or what they were.
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Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2008 8:44 pm
Caution had never existed within Luc's world. A reckless boy, running into the street or bounding about the junkyard alone had never been anything particularly frightening. Yet, he had never encountered a situation which had demanded his immediate fear. Ignorance was bliss, but when face with reality, those dire feelings of bewilderment and terror were nothing short of heart-stopping.
A jolt had shot throughout Luc's mind as he staggered backwards in the direction of the curb. The feeling of hands upon his form had startled him, the worst scenarios springing into his mind. The cautionary words were shrieking at him. Don't let anyone see you alone. Don't let anyone grab you. The noises were swirling about him. The hairs on his body had bristled somewhat as he became stationary once more - and in the nature of any hound under a seeming threat, a low growl had began to inhabit his throat. It was lost to the stern cautioning of a voice belonging, perhaps to a boy no younger than Luc himself. It was foreign and unrecognized, distinct and curious.
Luc's better half had gathered him - and with an inhaled breath he had gathered the will to look at the one who had so quickly snatched him from his dash across the street. His long ears had perked somewhat; his face had grown long as his nose wriggled, sniffing the air habitually to find the unfamiliar scent of something most definitely out of place within the territory. Nervously, Luc had set his hands on top of his head. His fingers had meticulously shifted the messy array of color that constructed his mop of a style, and equally so he had tended to the dirt and grease splotches about his face and form. He was a dirty little thing, gruff and rigid - but particularly filled with wide-eyed wonder and kindness. As tough as he tried to appear, and as rough as he did, there was an obvious lack of danger to his presence.
"Don't scare me like that!" He had heaved, laughing with a smile. His tail had wagged feverishly as he eyed this stranger within his land. He had sniffed the air once more, taking a step back as his shoulders sank. His expression had become quizzical and concerned, driven by the bewilderment of being scolded - as if it had not happened over a matter such as crossing the road at the junkyard before. Whoever the stranger was, they were far too young to be a threat to him. Even so, a cautionary wariness existed as Luc cocked his head, his eyes scanning the boy as he contemplated what the best course of action was. Gradually he began not to care about cautionary words and methods. Reckless and naive, he fell for the sake of childish wonder. His grin had grown; his ears had perked higher as he leaned forward to stare at the stern young one before him - a doggish face, none too different from Luc's own. It was a kinship matter, and Luc took to his surprise with the idea in mind of wondering where the unusual person had come from.
It was rare to know of someone else within the Junction. Luc had never seen anyone before. No one beyond Pockets and the crew which constructed his family. There was the occasional drunkard or fellow vagabond, but the rule was to keep to yourself - and Luc had never actually seen or been bothered to look for the strangers parading his homeland. Thus it proved an alien encounter, and strangely invigorating.
"You shouldn't just grab people. Didn't anyone tell you it's bad to grab people? You scare 'em like that." Luc had lectured himself; then he had made a slight head motion towards the road. "There en't nothing coming that way. There en't nothing ever coming that way." The main road was as barren and wasteful as anything within the yard itself, it seemed. Lonesome and empty - a mere path to the yard's gates, and a further stretch into seeming nothingness. It certainly didn't appear as if anything were coming.
"Well, where'd you come from? I didn't smell anyone out this way." Luc had tilted his head a bit. "You staying here too? You new?"
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Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2008 9:06 pm
Quincy stopped his tirade and considered the boy before him. He was like him. Sort of. Messy hair of three colors, which was oddly mesmerizing in his book, and a dog like face. Quincy reached up and fiddled with his own peppered ear and glanced at the large hound’s ears flapping along the boy’s face. He was about to comment on it when he remembered that he himself didn’t liked being picked at and thus shut his mouth to listen to the other boy’s dialect. A strong accent, one that mirrored his own, bounced around in his ears as he attempted to filter what the boy was saying. Well. It was different from Aaron’s which was different from Marie’s…. Quincy paused and halted his thoughts on differences and who sounds like whom. It was too complicated for the situation at hand. The scents however, were the same as the junkyard. Interesting.
Quincy was about to ask why the other boy was running into the road when the words should and don’t, effectively shutting the words from his tongue back into his mind. These sounded like commands and Quincy wasn’t sure whether or not he should obey someone who he didn’t know the rank of. The boy smelled of the junkyard and asked if he was new. Obviously this meant that he ranked over him due to seniority.
“Erm… No, not new. Just visiting.” Quincy said tentatively from his seat and straightened his jacket as he stood, brushing the dirt from his pants and straightening the small but shiny badge upon his chest and took an almost attentive stance with his tail pointing at the ground. “I’m sorry for grabbing you, but I didn’t want you to get squished…” Quincy shuffled and looked towards the cracks in the pavement. “sir.” Added stiffly and sheepishly as he realized that he should indeed respect his senior in a place he doesn’t know.
He looked back towards the junkyard. “My dad, he has to collect pieces for Miss Marie. They want to make a statue.” Quincy’s tail started to sway once more as he came to a comfortable subject.
“I really am sorry, sir.” It still felt weird, calling the other sir, but it would have to do. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I found this wheely thing and it rolled down here and it looked like a propeller on an airoplane and I like planes so I wanted to borrow it but it rolled and then you were here and I was worried.” The speed of Quincy’s speech picked up as nervousness pelted into his voice and the need for everything to be all right overpowered his need to look professional.
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Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2008 9:43 pm
The ideology of visitors was as mundane as the ideology of another vagabond, which Luc had grown to suppose was the case of the boy by default. It was the natural order in which things were never stationary, or that was how he had grown to understand it. Late in the evenings, when the stars towered high above within the sky, Pockets would sit an account the multiple adventures of his youth. The riding of trains, the wrestling with brutes and security guards, the thieving of cheap merchant food and bread, to the inevitable indulging of gambling within the darkest of alleyways. There was no greater life than that of a vagabond, and Luc had become biased over the lore generated by his overseer. By default, he could not suppose that anyone lived a life too different from his own - and it seemed especially logical that only one of his own would be bounding through the musty place that was his present palace and all of which he knew.
Luc had watched the boy with stable, scrutinizing eyes. His tail had swished back and forth at the notation his straightening - and as if feeling somewhat out of place, he had gathered his ball cap to set atop his messy head. There was something unnerving about the formality and tidy nature of the stranger. The way he stood at attention reminded him of something authoritative - and Luc was uncertain whether or not that was cause for alarm. Something felt special about the added murmur of a sir at the end, and it was oddly reminiscent of the language in which Caps used in regards to Pockets. Sir. For a moment, Luc had mulled over it - squinting and humming lightly with the wonder of what it stood for. In the end, he had decided it was inappropriate - and had thus disregarded the idea of its continuation.
"It's just Luc." He had stated his name suddenly. Not a glimmer of shyness. Bold and jubilant, there seemed a mild laughter to his features. "That's my name." He had paused suddenly, as if taken aback by the idea of the confiscation of the items within the yard; then he was once more at ease. His face had become alight with overwhelming wonder. Statues? Making statues. How delightful! His mind had veered to his own creations, and let alone he could only draw the distinctive connection between artist and inventor - both of which he had fancied himself for long a time.
"Statues?" His voice had piqued, squeaking and excited. "Oh, you'll find lots o' things for that." There was a fresh tone, almost sing-song, as Luc spoke. "I make stuff too." He had added, glancing briefly across the road at the hubcap.
Deciding against reveling the inspiration he had felt towards the item, he looked away and straightened his ball cap almost smugly. The mention of a propeller-like object had captured his interest, and the look of genius in Luc's eye had twinkling menacingly. "A propeller? Really? You found one? I've been looking everywhere..." He had gasped, filled to the brim with light and life.
He was caught off guard again by the apology, his eyebrows quirking as he eyed the nervous boy in front of him. He wasn't too sure why he was apologizing. He supposed it concerned the matter of scaring him - which, of course, had been stated. "It's okay ... Uhm." He had thought a moment.
"What's your name, anyway?"
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Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2008 10:02 pm
Quincy relaxed at the sight of Luc’s messy ball cap and casual demeanor. Maybe he wasn’t an authority but a civilian or maybe someone on par with Quin himself. A mental shrug and the quick procedure of rank accomplished by simply not caring and enjoying the other’s company left Quincy with a fluttering feeling in his stomach. The other boy seemed to like making things and knew what he was doing. There was an air of confidence about the boy, Luc, he tossed the name around his head for a moment before pointing over to where the tricycle wheel had eventually run out of momentum and lay harmlessly on the dirt. “There’s the whirly thingy.” He capped the excitement in his tone at the exclamation. “And… Well. It’s not a real propeller but it looked and acted a lot like a real one. It spun and made a fun noise.” Quincy explained becoming a little more animated at the time progressed.
And then it happened, a call for introduction. Quincy snapped to attention and gave a quick mock salute and smiled widely. “My name’s Quincy and I’m going to be a pilot.” He gave a small chuckle at his dream, scrabbling at his coat with his tail swinging at a mile a minute. “You can call me Quin if you want.”
He paused and considered the boy in a playful light. “And you’re Luc.” He rolled the name a bit on his tongue before looking over at the wheel and then was drawn to the hubcap. “And you like to make stuff like Miss Marie.”
Quincy took a moment to gauge exactly how this meeting was going. Everyone else he met had at least a passive aggressive introduction at best. He shuddered and remembered Miss Ent’s rather cold exterior but that was something strong about her. Yet, Luc was different. “You’re nice, Luc.” Quincy stated before looking across the street again. “What do you need the propeller for? Are you making an airplane?!” Vigor and excitement bled into Quincy’s question like a sharpie on a paper towel.
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Posted: Thu Jul 10, 2008 11:05 pm
There was not an air of authority to Luc's activities in the least. He was smooth, fluid. He was easy-going and quizzical, if not somewhat unorthodox in the way of which he stood or grinned his toothy, doggish smiles. A young boy, and devout little heathen if there ever were one. The glimmer of freedom shone within his eyes like that of a wild maverick. Foolish and young, distinct and proud, filled with the complicated wonder of mad desire and hunger for creation. He had stared at Quincy, wide-eyed, as he pointed off towards the 'whirly-thingy', which had reminded him of a propeller. It certainly wasn't a real propeller - but who needed a real propeller? There were innovations to be made, haphazard improvisations to be found. The art of invention required invention.
Suddenly, Luc had blinked. He had leaned back, staring with a long face at the attention and militaristic formalities of the boy in front of him as the requested introduction came to light. Quincy. It was smooth and orderly, prim and proper, with a flavor of uniqueness. He had opened his mouth, dwelling on the name. "Quincy." He had said, rolling it off of his tongue. "Quincy." He had repeated once more with a nod of his head. A pilot?
"I'm an inventor." He had chirped in response. "I was to make something that doesn't even need a propeller." He had continued, freezing again when Quincy had paused to become thoughtful. With the same boyish wonder, he had felt a smile coming to his face.
then again it became long and startled. Nice? Nice? It seemed such a distant thought. He had never been called nice before, and it felt good, if not somewhat unusual. Like being called a sir. Flushing brightly, Luc had looked at his feet.
"I've been trying to make a plane. I just can't find the right stuff! I'm sure there're supplies somewhere in the yard, but I haven't been able to locate them." vigor, excitement, passion. Flight. Luc too desired it more than anything in the world.
"I want to fly too."
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2008 5:43 pm
“You’re an inventor?” Quincy squeaked out in something akin to awe. Images and flashes of great inventions, castles in the sky, steam shooting from pipes as a vessel lifted from sea to clouds followed shortly by a picture of Charlie Chaplin… Aaron really shouldn’t have shown him that show; he fell instantly in love with the black and white moving pictures. It was right beneath Wishbone’s Sherlock Holmes. Luc was now raised on a pedestal within the boy’s mind. The easy attitude hidden beneath a slight blush of flattery tied up nicely with the haphazard, mostly wild, appearance would always be regarded highly by the Aussie boy. Mystery also clawed within Quincy’s mind, how did this boy seem to know so much about innovationist inventions. Topped by the fact that he was trying to build a plane. And he wanted to fly. Camaraderie ran deep to the very marrow of Quin’s bones and his grin widened to a near Cheshire smile.
“You’re building a plane?!” Quincy nearly shouted and bounced on his heels slightly. Militaristic attitude forgotten and he focused on the goal of flight. Oh how he longed to fly and to have someone else who didn’t disregard the subject sent his own heart soaring. He settled down into a more formal attitude as he thought of a proposition. Calculating eyes scanned the surrounding area as a lip made it within Quincy’s mouth as he attempted to piece the gaps together. He knew quite a bit about planes and didn’t know why… “I…I think I know a bit about flying and air and stuff.” Quincy shuffled about, his cheeks flushing as he attempted to make a proposition without bounding into the other’s territory.
He couldn’t take dancing around the subject, not for one more second, and finally clicked his heels together almost as in a salute and looked at Luc with a friendly sternness. “Luc, you want to help me build an airplane? That way we can both fly…” After all this was serious business.
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2008 6:11 pm
Luc had never received such attention in all of his memory. The depth was unusual, but enlightening. He felt at ease and comforted with this sudden interest in his talent - in his soul. Invention was a quirk which Luc had come to face as part of his own existence. He never understood why he knew so much about mechanics, and, in the end, he wasn't sure he ever wanted to understand. There was an alluring mystery behind his tools, behind his things, and behind his art. Despite the multiple failures which sat, bunkered within the old guard post, Luc was infatuated, and sincerely wooed, by the mechanical endeavors. He was an inventor; he would not become one - and the sudden intrigue of a stranger regarding such a matter of his soul whirled him into a confidence like no other. Caps and Pockets both were determined to keep Luc away from his inventions. They wouldn't look at them; they were even afraid of them. Suddenly, before him, stood the opposite existence.
As memorable as he may have become for Quincy, the shepherd dog had become memorable for Luc. The sense of kinship ran deep for a hound. He felt his heart patter at the sudden declarations of knowing a bit about flying, a bit about air, a bit about planes. Luc knew a thing or two about planes, about machines, but he knew so little of the object of flying. All he knew was that he wanted to feel the wind against his face, rushing through his hair, blowing his ears back. Childish and serene, but nevertheless the object of imagination.
"I'm really good with machines." Luc had began to explain. "The mathematical and scientific aspects of things." His face had brightened tremendously, an eager laugh filling the air as he rocked on his heels. "I really like to build them. I like to see them work, and I like to design them." He had turned a moment, caught within his thoughts. He himself had a devious idea. The kinship. The common goal.
Pockets wouldn't approve - but no one had ever said Pockets needed to know? The rule of 'don't be seen alone', or 'don't do anything with strangers' was silly within Luc's mind. It seemed even more so in the face of meeting te remarkable future pilot known as Quincy.
The offer registered - and within an instant Luc was making a motion with his arm. "Yes! You can be the pilot!" He had howled, jogging a few short steps. "If you know about them too, maybe you could help me figure out what's wrong with my designs ..." He had grinned crookedly, enthusiastically. "Come with me! I'll show you my workshop!"
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2008 6:52 pm
Quincy was running purely on an emotional high from meeting someone who wasn’t degrading his dream of flight. Others ignored it, Aaron laughed at it because of his ‘luck’ with kites. Thus far Toshiko and Marie are the only ones that gave him a pat on the back and a small toy airplane. Luc, however, was an enigma in himself. He was intelligent yet passionate, something Quincy hadn’t seen, heard or watched of. Even Sherlock who was exceedingly intelligent moved about mysteries with a flippant nature. The hound before him, encouraging him, calling him a pilot. This is something that struck deep. ‘You can be the pilot’ said with such enthusiasm that Quincy nearly thought he died and gone to heaven. It was as if someone with a key unlocked something in his brain as he felt schematics pile into his head along with the sharp urgency to obey authorities.
“Yeah…” Quincy thought, eyes widening to the size of saucers. “I can pilot and you can be head mechanic and…” He paused and looked at Luc with curiosity. He was really intelligent, knew how things worked and flying a plane might be hard. Also… Luc wanted to fly as well.
Quincy was torn. He really wanted Luc to fly with him. Over the past ten minutes, Quincy felt exceedingly close to the other boy and the hound was doing so much for him already. He even had a workshop. He bit his lip before grabbing a hold of Luc once more, impulsively spinning him around. “Co Pilot! You can be Co Pilot and fly with me!”
Everything was finally sinking into the boy’s head. “Wait! You have a workshop?!” He gave a small chuckle, hands gripping at his jacket. “That is so cool.”
But Aaron… He wouldn’t agree with sneaking off with Luc to build something dangerous, let alone without adult supervision. A large part of Quincy’s brain flared warning lights. Dishonorable Discharge blared louder than emergency sirens within the shepherd’s mind. “Wait…”
He paused a moment, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought of his predicament. “My dad… He really wouldn’t like me doing this.” Quincy actually whimpered, very canine of him, tail shuttling between his legs. No. This mission was of utmost importance to him. Flight, meeting Luc, building. It was a part of him. Why else would he know about things like thrust and numbers like air resistance? Nononono. He had to do this, despite it going against half of his entire being. “He…he can’t know. This is a secret, right?” The poor boy was almost pleading. He needed this.
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Posted: Tue Jul 15, 2008 9:37 am
The air of superb feelings had intoxicated Luc himself. His tail wagged about behind him. His smile spread from cheek to cheek over the matter of earnestness. It was an unforeseen gift of the winds that someone would suddenly appear within the Junction. Someone who happened to be young, and someone who took an interest in the matters which concerned Luc the most. It was euphoric, and if Luc had known to compare the matter to drunkenness, he may have very well done so within the silence of his own mind.
Indeed, Luc's eyes widened at the insistence of his being the head mechanic. He had brightened. His floppy ears had perked with unmeasured delight. Truly, he was happier than one may have expected, and the memories of being pulled from the road and startled were utterly lost to the childish endeavors of two children in their fantasies.
As he had turned to head for the workshop, he had felt himself spun around with the statement of co-piloting. For a moment, he had looked surprised again. Co-pilot? He would be co-pilot; he would fly with Quincy. "Co-Pilot?" He seemed somewhat breathless, his face long, steady, and awe-struck. There was a distinctive reality behind Quincy's declarations. Even wanting to fly, Luc had never truly built a plane. Within his workshop, there were blue-prints, and supplies, and non-working models - but there had never once been a plane for the sheer sake of Luc having no means or nerves to do anything more than talk. Yet, now, there was nerve. There was reason. There was passion - and it felt as if, in an instant, he had found an invaluable partnership that would assist him in the endeavors and interests which took to his brain.
The mechanical tick-tock fiddled with him as he laughed. "I'll be Co-pilot. We'll fly together. Have the best plane in the world, now won't we?" He had chirped, boasting. "The best plane in all the world." With such words, he came to a pause. His workshop!
"Ah! Yes!" He had motioned with his head. "It isn't much, but a workshop is what you make it. Any place is a workshop - but I make things in there. That thing by the gate; it looks small, but it's big inside." He had nodded quickly. "It's my own place. There's the whole yard too - this whole place is my work table!" It was true. He inventions were scattered. Some were garbage, others simply in storage, his valuables always protected within the Post or through some means of shabby handy-work.
Again his face had grown somewhat long, a hint of nervousness attached when he heard the tell of a father not wanting his son to contribute to such a grand scheme. It was a second dose of a reminder that Pockets would be problematic as well if he were to know. Yet, Luc never told Pockets of anything, which always seemed to exist for the better. Sluggishly, his hears had began to lower. His tail had ceased its wagging as he thought. "A secret." He stated somewhat sternly, the serious look in his eyes melded with determination and vigor. Nothing was going to stop him from building that plane. "We'll keep it a secret. We won't let anyone see or know - and when we're finished we'll surprise them, won't we?"
What Quincy's father didn't know, wouldn't hurt either of them - and what Luc's leader didn't know, would certainly have the same results. A secret. It would be ... Their secret.
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Posted: Fri Jul 25, 2008 6:48 pm
Quincy visibly cringed at the blatant use of the word ‘secret’, as if the word plucked a particular chord, twanging down his spine and sending his tail ramrod straight and hair on end. Secrets were bad, disrespectful and untrustworthy. Information was to only be kept from enemies and traitors, never from higher ups or your team and Aaron definitely qualifies as both superior and teammate. Undisclosed, lies, secrets anything hush-hush lead to betrayal making Quincy a traitor, courtmarshaldishonorabledischargebadbadbadbad! The boy shuddered and pulled his RAF jacket closer as he gazed out over the dilapidated yard full of either junk or treasure, he couldn’t tell yet…. He paused, sniffed the air and felt the excitement, Luc’s excitement. Was it worth it? A quick glance at the sky dampened the turmoil rising in Quincy’s stomach and he decided that for now it was important enough to take the risk. And it was fun.
Aaron would understand, he was easily sueded by large eyes and a quivering lip, not that the method was ethical or right but it worked. This was important, his life and his dream. Quincy’s half perked ear only caught half of Luc’s excited babble and the boy couldn’t help but feel guilty for leaving the other alone while he sorted out his thoughts. What if he said something important, or fun? Quin bit his lower lip and attempted to appear comfortable as he followed the other boy.
Looking at Luc’s passion towards the entire scheme was enough to allow Quincy’a conscience fall and enable him to fall in step with the other boy. He gave his tail a small wag before grabbing at Luc’s hand and picking up the pace. “Well, if it’s a secret we have to be covert and stuff.”
In truth the boy simply picked a thought out of his head and acted like it fit into the conversation.
“We should hurry up before someone sees us.” Again Quincy thought back to Aaron and decided to put a small twist on his adventure. Slowing his pace he skidded to a halt before leaning in slightly to whisper.
“This is very serious…stuff and we don’t want enemy spies to see what we’re doing.”
Cautiously Quincy took a good look at the space around him and placed his hands on his hips. “Because there are always enemy spies, right? And I gotta keep you safe.”
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Posted: Fri Jul 25, 2008 7:17 pm
Luc's mind had entered the rhythmic pacing of madness. He could feel his heart quivering within his chest as his ears perked and fell. He could sense the warm feeling of satisfaction and adventure rising within his stomach. There was an adrenaline rush to the idea of secrecy, and to the idea of such an important endeavor. There was danger. There was inventiveness. For as intimidating as the idea of Pockets was, the idea of building the world's best flying machine was stronger, if not more passionate. He was uncertain whether or not he needed to be cautious. Fortunately, the ignorance was bliss. He only smiled, his tail jubilantly wagging as he sorted between the thoughts of accomplishment, failure, and secretive danger.
The exploit would be long. It would be hard - but Luc was naive. He was young; he was foolish, and untrained. Every worry to cross his mind was just as soon discarded by the child-like wit and intrigue. He inevitably found that he didn't care whether or not there was danger to be had, or whether or not he was doing something wrong. Everything was for the good of the cause. That was enough to justify anything for Luc. He could keep a secret. He could work. They could do it together, and there would be no consequence, for it was all due to the greater cause. Punishment would be well worth the endeavor, Luc believed. It was his soul on the line - not a frivolous ordeal which could be avoided. He needed to build. He needed to work - and Quincy's appearance was a sign to him. Luc had become candid at once. The scent of trustworthiness and honor from Quincy put him at ease - but even more so there was an apparent kinship. Not only were they gambling with Luc's soul, but they were also gambling with Quincy's. They were brothers for the cause. The more Luc reviewed the bandit-ish thought process of adventure and importance, the higher he found himself thinking of Quincy. It was a natural sort of bond. A survival aspect of pack cooperation. They were a pack. A pack.
Luc's large ears had perked at the feeling of his hand being grabbed. He had cocked his head slightly to the side, the sound easily absorbed into his mind. Large ears, excellent hearing. He seemed to note each word individually, his expression changing according to the tones. Secret. Covert. What was covert?
"Covert stuff?" Luc had whispered breathlessly.
An answer had not needed to follow; the hound began to understand as the threat of someone seeing became a reality. Were Luc anyone other than himself, he may have thought his poor companion a loon for discussing the matters of enemy spies. But Luc was Luc. His brain quickly translated enemies to the dire lessons of Pockets. Enemies were always there - always wanting to take him away - they would take him away if they found him, if they weren't trustworthy, if Luc talked about his life, or explained who Pockets was. People could be evil if they knew enough information - and to be seen was dangerous if it involved projects or important matters. No one knew of the little junk yard shack they inhabited - and no one, even within the shack, knew of his workshop. It was all a secret that enemies could destroy.
"Pockets says they take you away if they catch you." He had spoken nervously. The excited nature appeared one of astonished fear. The threat was all too real - and the idea of being taken away from his beloved Yard, and from his family, was beyond comprehensive terror. Quickly, he had opened the door to the security post to revel its inner contents. His ears had drooped low. "They take you away, and they en't ever gonna let you come home or see anyone again." His shoulders had shaken as he quirked his head to peer inside the security post. As he took in the familiar, loving sight of gears, tools, and metal constructions, of gizmos and gadgets without names, haphazard inventions and models hanging from the ceiling, and of blueprint after blueprint taped against the walls and tool racks, Luc could only begin to understand how precious it all was.
His ears had twitched a moment as his tail sank near his legs. They had began to raise up, only as much as they could. With keen hearing, he noted each word. And I gotta keep you safe. the scent of determination, caution, and loyalty was evident. He knew nothing of what to say - and so he said nothing. He simply reached to tug Quincy inside.
"This is my workshop." He'd whispered after clearing his throat. A goofy smile had returned to his face, the joy reemerging, albeit in a somewhat more calm manner. Occasionally his eyes would flicker across the walls, idly admiring the nonsensical constructions he had taken to. Small car-like items, models of flying machines. Everything was meticulous in a haphazard matter - and the smell was one of grease, sweat, and dust. Nevertheless, the gruff nature of it all was endearing - right down to the beaten old mufflers and carefully packed springs about the walls and shelves. Right down to the functioning, half-crooked coo-coo clock set just above a chair that looked to have been moved to recently hang the ornament.
It was a mechanic's paradise.
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Posted: Fri Jul 25, 2008 7:55 pm
The Aussie stood stock straight as a soldier would during attention, large eyes held Luc in his vision and Quincy let every word become engraved in his strict morals. Never get caught, don’t let the enemy find you. But what if they found Luc? Aaron and the other adults were old enough to not get caught, although there were times that Quincy suspected his guardian to be less than sufficient for self-care. And Luc seemed well versed in clandestine living. Yet, he was also small like himself, they’d have to look out for each other. It was then that Quincy felt what it was like to truly belong. He wasn’t being herded in this situation; he was sticking together with kin. Battle buddy, pack mate, brother and friend were all sufficient in labeling Luc at the current point in time and hopefully forever. A sense of self worth and care flooded the boy’s lungs with each deepening breath, the scent of belonging and the feel of coming home was stronger than the smells of Aaron’s coffee in the morning and Quincy’s orange peel on the window sill. It was a drug that seeped into his senses and restricted his vision. Beware all who try and destroy what he had found.
Yet, at the same time Quincy believed that Luc and he should watch each other’s backs; he didn’t want Luc to get hurt. It was his job to protect and that is the one thing he has been sure of from both sides of his battling minds. He was supposed to herd, defend and fight for. It is what he lived for, right next to flying. Luc will be safe so Quincy had to make sure that he’d be safe, even if he was kidnapped away by enemy spies.
“If they catch you, be sure to not say nothing about this.” Quincy gestured to the passing yard and approaching structure. “No matter how hard they tickle you.” He thought about it then took a deep sniff of Luc’s scent, ending with a dramatic exhale and a twitch of the nose. “There. Now if they get you I can find you.”
Quincy retreated back into his quiet, observant status. Memorizing where he has been and where he was heading to grapple a slight lay of the land. A soldier should always know the immediate surroundings. He relaxed immediately as they entered Luc’s element.
The workshop was grungy and haphazard appearing to Quincy at first. The sky blocked away from his immediate view caused him to jump slightly and grow more nervous as he breathed in the industrial laden air. Yet, Luc was comfortable so why should he be different. Unwillingly the Aussie relaxed, tail swaying as he felt himself tugged into the space.
Seconds passed of silent observation, eyes wide as everything was taken in. the space was huge, perfect for building with everything scattered about.
“This is awesome, Luc!” Quincy shouted before releasing his hold on the other and racing around to look, never touching, just looking. “We’re gonna have the best plane ever.”
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Posted: Fri Jul 25, 2008 10:53 pm
The sheer nature of doggish boys left not a trace of surprise. Luc was almost comforted by the stern determination and loyalty. He felt particularly safe with Quincy. There was nothing to worry about - and never mind the fact that Quincy knew nothing to be of a threat. All was well, and the understanding trust had caused Luc to perk somewhat from his idle rut of qualms. He felt at particular ease with the understanding of scent. If Quincy could smell as well as Luc could, locating him would never be a problem. For whatever reason, Luc felt a trust. If he were in danger, surely Quincy wouldn't leave him behind. If they were going to make their endeavor a reality, they needed one another.
His shoulders had relaxed as he scratched his nose with a finger. "I won't tell anyone. They en't gonna get nothing out of me, yeah? No matter what." He had spoken with a calm certainty, unphased by even the unorthodoxy of two young lads sharing scent familiarity. His tail had briefly wagged as he thought for a moment. Slowly, he had lowered his hand, his nostrils flaring with a slight quiver beyond the scent of must, dust, and familiar objects. It was easy to know what someone smelled like, and it came naturally. "I'll be able to find you too." He had grinned somewhat, donning a proud expression and poise. As much as Quincy had reassured Luc, he wanted to return the favor.
Matters came and went, however, and soon Luc had again returned to the idealistic wonders of his world. He had taken a few steps as the door was shut, but not before tugging a long string near the entrance which signaled a few loose bulbs high above to light. They glittered like fireflies within the room, twirling about the ceiling and highlighting the trails of dust which followed their rays like a flock of sheep. With their guidance, the room became a rustic world, equally filled with color and life.
Luc was contented. His chest had heaved in a mild-mannered way as he jogged a bit; his ears had perked up high as his tail wagged in its wild manner. Almost immediately, Luc had taken to one of the cleared walls, where papers laid strewn all about - some taped against the wall. Little children's drawings of technical machines. Before he had dared to mention them, the declaration of the best plane ever had began to ring. He had snapped, quickly whirling around. "Definitely!"
He had paused, glancing again over his shoulder at his designs. "Do you want to see some of the designs I have?" They would need to configure a design if they were to be building a plane.
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