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 Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2009 6:53 pm
 Hours into staring dumbfounded at her brother and it still struck the kitsusagi as a little miraculous that he'd managed to find her at all. Forgiveness had come and gone so quickly that she couldn't stop reeling from it, and by the time the sun was pitching a tent of light over their heads, Chrys had drifted to sleep, all the emotional murmuring left off for a few hours while they recovered. She might have joined him, tempted as she watched his furred chest rise and fall, too fond to feel anything but a dull ache for his innocence. They were at least in a grove she knew, a place protected by low hedges and brambles, and she doubted anything would come across him while he slumbered obliviously.
It nonetheless took some convincing before she rose from his side, giving his cheek a lick and wiggling through the brush in search of something to eat. When he woke, he'd probably be as ravenous as she felt, something she kept in mind as she glided through the grass and eyed dew-frozen insects. Easy to catch, but with two mouths to feed instead of one, she'd have to go bigger. That sort of game was beyond the reaches she normally investigated, and she stretched out her legs as she went, humming to herself to maintain a sense of company. She was used to being on her own, free to mess up or succeed as opportunities arrived. Having Chrys back changed that, made her realize that she couldn't afford to be that same irresponsible brat. But that didn't mean she was nailed down, or so she hoped. Her brother knew her, the moods that sometimes swayed her. He'd understand if he opened his eyes and she wasn't right there.
Her surroundings melted into swimming pastels under morning's touch, a world of watercolors that guided the eye without commanding it. Avalie strode through the scenery, taking the trick of illumination for granted until it vanished. The canopy cut off suddenly, admitting an excess of light that coiled lovingly around metallic fixtures, blinding her if she gazed too long in an effort to make out a purpose. The roots of trees had been hacked away, and her paws curled as she stepped out onto something cooler and less forgiving than raw earth, tilting her green head back to better take it in. The structure that rose up in front of her was massive, tottering piles of bright silver and dull plastic married to cardboard and plywood, shards and slivers and whole hubcaps greeting her perplexity. Trash, lots of it, like a monument to hoarders or some kind of shrine to a deity she was unfamiliar with. Making a low, thoughtful sound, she carefully slid nearer, the dusty smell wrinkling her nose for the barest of seconds before she acclimated. What a bizarre place, and in the middle of a forest, she realized, turning in a slow circle to see growth on all sides. What sort of creature would have denounced natural cover and adopted this method instead? In truth, it almost looked like a playground, something that would have been entertaining when she was a kit, all unsteady heaps and the endless, chewed-up potential for toys. She couldn't quite deny that it called to that part of her, even now. If not for all the sharp objects that caught in her periphery, she could have bought the excuse wholeheartedly.
Orange-ringed features peeked around a wilted box, her curiosity already getting the better of her as she ventured further into the dump site. An errant swing of her paw and the female sent a stray piece of garbage skittering across the packed ground, leaping on it instantly to quiet the noise. Even if she was intrigued, she didn't necessarily want to lead an informative source to her. Months spent in the forest told her that not all company was of the friendly variety. Then again, the place could have been unoccupied. She didn't see many living things wandering about, not even the customary swarms of flies. That didn't make her any less wary as she peeled her toes back, snorting softly at the sight of a tin can gleaming between them. Funny how they seemed to want to betray her at every turn. First with that tetchy male, and now in unfamiliar territory...
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Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2009 11:33 pm
 Deep within the bowels of the junk fortress was a small valley- a nest, if you will, trampled flat over time and occupation, where the two tenants of this inorganic heap now lay in repose. One was a kitsusagi sleek in form, if a bit wane for neglect of a steady nourishment and unacknowledged stress. The other was a monster, thick, and languid, quite near the epiphany of excess. And they spoke, occasionally, though the bigger beast dozed without apology when it seemed to suit him. Even now, it seemed to B like Regime was asleep, the Nightmare's sides rising slowly with breath. But with the way the other male's eyes were stitched shut, and from his normal lackadaisical disposition, he can never tell for sure.
In any case, there is peace. As he slides next to the larger form, there are no protests, even as their fur brushes slightly, black on a soot-covered city. B sighs, silently, deep in his chest and looks over the form of his boss. Sometimes, he's allowed this, even though he knows he's less than worthy. Regime is more than he could ever hope to be, though he was kind enough to take care of him through the various stages of his life. He tried to teach him, but no matter how hard B-Sharp tried to learn, there would always be a barrier between them. Regime was his idol, and for that, he owed the Nightmare no less than his allegiance and his life. What things he had planned were of little consequence to him, whether he wished to raise a city of pollutants or go plant daisies. He was far too distracted by the scraps he was thrown, and the times like now where he dared to be close.
A clatter came in the distance, and B's ears twitched, gray eyes narrowing as he looked in the direction. He started as brassy notes pooled into the dry air, and a shock of vibration from the sound streaked through his side.
"Mmm... Sounds like lunch, eh, Glims?" Regime drawled, the sound barely making it past his skinless maw. There was a momentary pause, before he simply grunted. "Go."
And that was the end of it. B slid to his feet and climbed the slope of a nearby pile, moving expertly around sharp edges and finding stable footholds to bring him closer to the summit. Being in the middle of the wilderness, something was bound to come by eventually, be it rabbit, squirrel, or bird. Whatever it was, it was lunch! Regime's lunch. A tongue lapped the corner of his maw as his trained eyes scouted out movement below, his body lowered down against the slope and ears folded back so that he was less noticeable. It didn't take him long to spot the intruder.
The green and yellow of her back was so obnoxious set against an empire of aluminum and plastic, the orange an absolute affront. He was sure that if he sniffed the air there would be smells of flowers and other disgustingly sweet scents to pollute his nose and the sacredness of the Junk Heap. His lip was already curling, a line of hair along his back beginning to stand on end. Oh yes, he remembered her. How could he forget? She had humiliated him! And if this wasn't that incorrigible little b***h that had left him writhing like a worm in the dirt and cursing all king and country, then someone was in for a very rude surprise.
Normally, B had a protocol. He would hail any sentient creatures that happened upon the Heap and make it known they were trespassing, and then proceed through the motions of asking if they had some sort of appointment or if they wished to register one. If not, he made himself look as big as he could and told them to leave and, if needed, chased them off. ******** protocol.
"YOU!" Came the dull roar as he pushed himself to a full stand once more, not wasting time as skittered over trash and jumped upon an upturned trash can lid. The momentum sent him flying down the hill sideways on the metal disk, bumping over the rough surface with his paws bracing him hard onto it. He'd done this numerous times before, just futzing around on slow days (most days), so the effect was smooth and likely very intimidating as he came gliding her way. Once he reached the bottom, he was going to be on her tail. Her a** was grass, he told himself, when he caught her. This was his playground.
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Posted: Sun Nov 08, 2009 1:11 am
A brazen shout had her startling back, dandelion-gaze immediately shifting toward the source of the sound, widening once it settled on a speaker. It was none other than the ill-tempered musician, manifested from her earlier thoughts and glaring pure venom down from his throne of disposable treasure. Of all the dumb luck to be had on the planet, she'd apparently inherited the brunt of the bad half. "You have got to be-" She started softly, shrinking down toward the earth, mechanically softening her posture: ears flipped where they wouldn't be as visible, tails flattening and becoming part of the tall grass. Except there was no grass, and the female was left mentally cursing herself when she found that she wasn't in a place where she could blend. Dull greys and chalky dust did not provide the best cover to a plant-vibrant body; she was in a foreign environment, and it seemed to belong to the one creature she'd ever willingly picked a fight with. Not only that, but he was riding what looked to be some sort of circular, metallic sled down the pile that separated them, intent on her position with an expression that didn't bode well etched across his mouth. Fantastic.
Pathetically, she wanted to shake the can for giving her away, or at least pitch it far from her in hopes of disintegrating the phantom of negative emotion as well. Instead, she straightened out her body and planted her feet, drawing composure around her in a last ditch effort. "Hey now, music boy, hang on a minute." She cautioned, keeping the tin device between them, as if it might protect from any sort of onslaught. Although, if she bothered to consider the situation more thoroughly, it was probably a tad incriminating to have something so reminiscent of their last meeting staring him straight in the eye. What had she just been saying about recklessness? Even her best reasoning-with-crazy voice teetered on the brink of failure, one orange-socked foot backing off a step. "I know we didn't exactly leave each other on great terms, but if you could just..." What? Not sink his teeth into her? That would be a start, though an unlikely one. He hadn't come sailing down the heap to say how much he'd missed her.
There was a niggling pain in her jaw that started up as she considered fleeing before he got too close, the taste of blood and the snap of air near her neck making for less than fond memories. Her retreat the last time had been part of the maneuver, rubbing in his face how she wasn't such a useless creature after all. But it had also been unavoidable. She wasn't made to fight, not paw to paw, and definitely not against someone who had experience. If she went back all beat to hell, her brother would expect some sort of explanation, and she'd be forced to relay the embarrassing tale. That was, of course, assuming that there would be enough of her left to limp home with.
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Posted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 6:15 pm
 Down, down, down, a great clatter of litter flying in his wake or crunching as he flew over it. When he was near the bottom, he jumped, throwing his paws forward hard to launch that lid right at the female. Whether it hit her or not, he was stabalizing himself on the ground and stalking forward. She looked scared. She'd better be! Her words had been lost to his ears, folded back in an unforgiving position against his skull.
"Start running, b***h." He snarled, tonelessly, letting the cold take him. If he killed her now, he wouldn't be the least bit sorry. His anger had subsided a long time ago, only to come up and strangle him as soon as he saw her again. B had never learned to recognize when he was wrong, had never been taught not to be rude or swallow his pride. And if he felt bad, well, it was just shame, wasn't it? Losing was not something he did gracefully, as it all summed itself up to failure in his mind. Avalie had made him fail once already, and to redeem himself, well...
She got a few feet of prowling before he launched forward, jaws parted as he sprinted for her.The clatter had successfully rattled him out of his pleasant doze, and now Regime was irritated. What was that boy doing? Couldn't he catch a damn thing without raising such a racket? But as he perked his ears to the noise of scattering trash, there was a gentle cadence on the air. A female? Even Madison wasn't so pitchy, and the appearance of B's brother was usually a good enough explanation to hear a ruckus going on outside of his lair. But if it was Maddy, he'd have already been crunching up the slope, or calling for B-Sharp. So why the excitement?
Growling quietly to himself, the Nightmare rolled to his feet and began a steady climb up the valley, his tongue only tasting metal and mold as he flipped it out. That was the downside of living in a place like this-- it smelled.
"What's all that noise, B?" He called out over the slope, before he pulled himself up into view, grumbling in his chest. "Is there a guest?"
B-Sharp quite literally tripped over himself as the booming voice reached him, and it was all he could do not to tumble head over heels. "Intruder." He spat, glaring at Avalie, stumbling to renew his approach.
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Posted: Thu Nov 19, 2009 7:28 pm
The descent was too loud, her words like blown smoke, strong from her mouth and dissipating the further they traveled, canceled out by bigger things. Not that it necessarily mattered if he didn't want to listen. Still, she hadn't expected in the wildest part of her imagination that the lid might double as a weapon, and that delaying disbelief cost her the half-second she needed. A raised edge clipped Avalie high on the shoulder as she scrambled out of the way, and the girl distantly hated the treasonous yelp that escaped her. She staggered on the landing and nearly fell sideways from the accompanying flare of pain, thumping her tails to the parched earth to keep her upright. Pins and needles-numbness radiated down her leg, a bruise already pulling beneath her fur while the thing finished its wobbly, sailing path and clashed with a tree trunk. And damn if it didn't hurt, but he was suddenly right there, and whimpering wasn't going to help. Don't show weakness, she growled internally, setting the paw down, willing it not to tremor. The effort was pointless. He was snarling, rushing forward, ready to take her apart.
A voice made him draw short, a halt on instinct and motion alike. She blinked dazedly at the difference, then jerked her chin up toward her unknowing savior. Cold surprise wove between vertebrae at the behemoth sight that met her gratitude, a swathe of night with a kaleidoscope of windows and towers marching across his fur. Horns, beaked mouth, whipping tendrils - she knew a Nightmare when she saw one, even if an official acquaintance had never been made. And had he called him Bee? He looked nothing like a furred, honey-touched insect; a wronged wasp, maybe. She must have misheard. Avalie shook off the hysterical laughter before it could climb up her throat, attention snapping back to her would-be killer when he spoke.
"Not an intruder," She called back emphatically, her voice pinched by the throbbing ache in her shoulder and no small amount of panic. Whatever power the Nightmare had over Bee, it seemed to have momentarily nailed him to the spot. If she could present her case quickly, then maybe he'd be distracted enough to give her a head start. "I got lost, stumbled in. I didn't know anyone was here."
It was hard to sound convincingly guileless over the physical discomfort he'd inflicted, but she figured she was doing an admirable job. That didn't stop her from tentatively backing up, getting ready to flee again as she had the first time, away to her den, her safety zone. But with one leg stinging to the barest hint of pressure, she'd have no advantage in a pursuit. Worse, she had no idea if the Nightmare's size would put a dent in his speed if he chose to involve himself further.
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Posted: Thu Nov 19, 2009 11:55 pm
"Well, now, you don't say," The Nightmare seemed to muse, taking into account the pitch and volume of her voice. Definitely a female, sounded small... "Be cool, bait minor. Sweet little thang like this one don't just waltz itself into these parts all that often, ain't nobody know that better than me, but you know better than to treat a dame that-a-way, Glims. This is my home, dig? I say who's the intruder and who's the guest."
That great, jagged maw parted slightly in a horrible resemblance to a grin, forked tongue giving the air another quick sample. His tone seemed so easy and good-humored, but the meaning was quite clear.
Gray eyes flitted between Regime and Avalie, but B-Sharp ceased his step. It didn't stop him from staring balefully at her, as if saying 'NOW you've done it'. Damn Regime. Why couldn't he have just slept through this? Why did he pick now, of all times, to be motivated? The sound of a female... Was that really what the Nightmare desired? Somehow, B suspected not. He was, however, subject to trying to debase any of those who would gain the Nightmare's momentary favor. He was actually a very jealous creature, if little else.
"...Yes sir."
"Missus," Regime hailed the quivering girl, "I apologize for my boy's lack of manners. He's a bit scrambled, off-key, ya dig? Me, though, I'm a gentleman with sensibilities and I know it's a foul briar you came stumblin' out of. Why don't you stay just a while? There's too many strangers out there, and not enough good company. You're welcome to come up here and talk to me, sweetheart. Don't mind that crass boy- ain't nothin' in his head but sticks and stones."
This sounded, suspiciously, like more of a command than an entreatment. Regime was well aware of what he was saving Avalie from and leaving her very little choice in the matter.
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Posted: Sat Jan 02, 2010 2:56 am
For an instant, she wasn't sure who the beast on the trash mound was talking to. The usage of 'bait' rang dangerous, compounded by the fact that she couldn't see who he was looking at when he spoke, not even blind with an unlevel stare that she could guess after. No eyes, and a lilt to the voice that seemed to be buying her out of trouble with an air of amicable authority. She wouldn't even have caught the second part if not for the way the darkling froze, watchful but unmoving, attentive to the Nightmare's words and the various, strange endearments strung within. Avalie stayed carefully still during the exchange, favoring the one leg only slightly and reminding herself that holding her breath wouldn't change the outcome. The chances of Bee forgetting her presence were pretty slim, whatever kept him steady set to deteriorate soon. He wanted to inflict hurt, wanted to do it to her. And she'd seen things in the time she'd been alone, bodies out on the road, some still warm and bleeding blackly where something had dropped them from wide jaws. She tensed to prepare for when he jumped forward without another warning, sending a thought back over her shoulder, an apology to her oblivious brother. All of this over a stupid stunt, over a can. She should have known better.
Which was why she exhaled harshly when he conceded, quick and tidy, like the other had asked him to step around a mud puddle - or play a song - and he'd done so with a sir. That was telling, even if she wasn't exactly sure how far it ran. Regardless, the city-gleaming other was in charge of the heap and the agitated Bee. But that still didn't spell safety. Her ears flicked when she was formally addressed, listening to the odd speech with a dry mouth and an increasingly dubious feeling in her entrails. The undertone of menace was missing, but her thoughts substituted it in anyway, trying not to grimace. If she politely said no and tried to stumble off, his guard dog would probably catch up with her before she made it back to green ground. If she agreed, the failed butterfly didn't know what she risked by tottering up the pile, some more elaborate trap set by a sightless creature. All the more mental space to be taken up by scheming, or so she'd heard. And wouldn't her father have been disappointed in his daughter, applying stereotypes when all the Nightmare had done so far was rescue her from a mauling?
"... I dig." She replied eventually, shooting the Baitbeeglims a glance and proceeding to make her way around him, giving the pink-accented figure wide berth. No sense in providing temptation, and she wasn't certain in her standing as a guest. Keep your head down, don't do anything too stupid. A lot to ask with that smoldering stare driving hot points under her skin. It wasn't her fault; if she'd had her way, she would have been miles away, would have never seen him or thought of him ever again.
Avalie learned right off that the footing at the base of the mountain was bad, unaided by her sore shoulder as she started up. Her claws and the pads of her feet were mercifully rough, providing traction as she picked out a path of least resistance, electing to go slowly without stalling in a flagrant fashion. Thinking was important, scenarios required to get her out of such a mess, but she was too busy examining the things that appeared beneath her. A doll's broken face, one blue eye staring out at her through its state of collapse; a torn trash bag full of leaves, strewn with rotten motes that made her nose itch faintly as she passed. There were also cans, hundreds of them, and she felt a brief stab of annoyance at the taunting sight of their thin, cylindrical shapes. If there were so many here, why had she been marked for death because of one?
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Posted: Sat Jan 02, 2010 3:52 am
She dug. As she went around him, B-Sharp did no more than sweep his ears behind his skull and watch her pass. Right now she bore the veil of what Regime might dare to call diplomatic immunity- he could not touch her with intent to harm. It didn't matter what he thought, didn't matter how he felt. The order had been given and they would each dance to the part they'd been played. He didn't expect anything less; Regime was the piper, the hook, the dealer. B-Sharp was merely the crook, to be exploited by the Nightmare's fancy like anything else he owned. When Avalie got a foot or so up the hill, he fell in behind her, his expression rapidly cooling. If she fell, it would be against his shoulder, not into his jaws.
But there was no going back.
Regime was delighted, as always, to find his orders heeded. The girl was wading her way up to him, slow but sure. He was a patient creature, though he saw no reason not to speak in the meantime.
"Mind your step, kitten, or you're liable to step on something sharp. The name's Regime, by the by. I'm the proprietor of this establishment. I'm guessing you already know my protege, B-Sharp. It's lucky for us all you came a-wanderin' this way, cuz we don't see as much company these days as I like. Trip to the parlor might be a little easier, just over this ridge. Anything we can get ya, darling? Water, food?" He tilted his head toward the valley from whence he had come, showing a place where the floor seemed much more stable. There was a stretch of plywood in one spot, some moldy and ragged couch cushions, what used to be a beanbag chair... It smelled like the heart of an ashtray, yet there was no char marks that the naked eye would see.
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Posted: Sat Jan 02, 2010 11:56 pm
Any residual hope that she might be able to flee disintegrated when Bee dropped into line behind her, the invisible noose around her neck tightening and forcing shallow chest breathing. The thought of feigning a fall and tumbling down the hill had occurred to her, complete with the sketchy idea that she would hit the ground running and take off before the two males realized what she was doing. She'd make it back to Chrys, tell him all about the ordeal in a high voice that was equal parts excitement and relief, deliberately outlining the nastiness of her opponents. He'd take the tale in wide-eyed and alarmed, but with that ever-present core of delight shining through. The green kitsusagi knew better than to believe in the possibility, but it'd been nice to pretend a second option, one that didn't involve walking straight into strange territory with no escape in sight. Meanwhile, the Nightmare - Regime - was endlessly chummy, even as she made her way up to where he stood, sensing the pitfalls that he spoke of through layers of junk. B-sharp? It took more control than she liked not to look incredulously back again, fearing for her balance and the hate-beams he was probably emitting from his eyes. Not Bee, B. One letter, grafted to an incising word. That made more sense than anything she'd come up with, although it could have been just another nickname. Still, music... the same thing that had stranded her here in the first place. "Avalie. And we've met, yes." She said shortly, shaking her head a little without adding more, intent on putting her feet down without skewering them on something unseen.
By the time they arrived at the top, she was too tired from hopping around on three legs to cower, eyeing Regime with grudging resignation and drawing her ruffled tails close. She redirected her attention to the suggested change of venue, inquisitiveness replacing the previous scare. Then again, if she hadn't started out questioning what sort of being might occupy a place like this, could she avoided this whole headache? "Thank you, um-" Eating would have been one worry off her mind, but she didn't want to be weighed down if an opportunity arose. That, and she wasn't sure if the offer was along the same lines as the parlor joke. "I think I'll take a rain check, if that's fine by you."
Ambling down was going to be tricky, unbothered as she considered the smoke scent curling up from the crater. There were soft things down there, at least, so if she really did trip and land on her face, there would be padding to break it. Or she'd hit the plywood first and break something else. "This is all yours?" The question should have been repressed, but it extended a bridge of sorts when phrased aloud. It wasn't ideal or idyllic or anything, but it did look like a lot of work, like it had happened over a long period of time. Impressive in scope, in design; and the can she'd taken had been an intended part of it. Easter-bright irises drifted, finding that grey wash of disaster that existed at the corner. An instrument and building material all in one. That was almost worse than stealing meat from his mouth. It was still easier to just think of him as a jerk, though, and her pounding shoulder let her.
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Posted: Sun Jan 03, 2010 1:10 am
"You got it," A Nightmare could not purr, but Regime did hum. It was a brassy sound, deep in his broad barrel of chest. Pleased. The cityscape depicted on his body seemed to shift ever so slightly, the lights of what looked like an apartment building flashing white in the darkened panels. A blimp bobbed lazily in the soot-covered night sky, but never seemed to make it past his shoulder. "I know the size may be daunting, but I think you'll find that I'm just another simple soul. Besides, sweety, what else would you be doin' with your time if you hadn't come this way? I guarantee ya, I'm a lot more fun to talk with than that nasty green. Just consider me a friend. I'll see ya well taken care of."
With that, he began to lumber on down the hill, somehow having the sense to know where she was and skirting politely around her. The wasteland was nothing to him, no matter how sharp the path. It all gave way beneath his girth, crumbling with weak shrills of protest. It seemed prudent enough to simply follow behind him.
"That's right, doll-face, everything you see around here is mine. I built it myself, mostly. Can you believe their used to be a field here? Poppies, I think it was. And over that-a-way is the river. Gonna build a bridge soon enough. It'll be up come summertime, assumin' B and me stop playing around." He rumbled conversationally, reaching the bottom of the slope in little to no time. "Some folks like to live life simple, getting on place to place and depending on whatever they hope to find. Not me, though. I like to be comfortable, somewhere I can always go to lay my head down when my feet are sore, dig?"
His feet, or claws as they were, now slid over the plywood surface with a tap-tap-tap. There was a moment where his tongue flitted free of his maw and he reached out for one of the nearby cushions, dragging it near to himself before he, heavily, flopped down upon it. His head faced Avalie's direction, clearly waiting for her to come and join him. Stretched out lazily as he was, he might have looked welcoming, even harmless.
B took in the information in silence. Avalie was the girl's name, apparently, unless she was lying to Regime. Even if she was, he knew they would all play along. She glanced over her shoulder at him and all he had in return for her was an impassive stare. He looked completely stoic now, not cold but empty. Had she not seen him ruffle once before with insecurity in the forrest where she asked him to play her a song, had she not witnessed the passion and rage as he pursued her through the forrest and the raw fury as he came flying down the hill today... Well, she might have thought him not capable of any emotion at all.
If she did not immediately follow Regime, he would hover at her shoulder, and nudge her without malice if that too failed. Whatever had transgressed between them... he was killing it. Slow but sure.
"So Avalie, enough about me. Tell me something about you. Where ya from? What brought you this way?"
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Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2010 9:32 pm
That sounded like a line she'd been fed before, or at least heard second-hand, something about being taken care of and how it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Avalie wouldn't dream of saying such a thing, but the proposal hopped back and forth in her head on hot feet, working down her spine in a prickling ant-file of uncertainty. Still, an offer of friendship five minutes in had to be better than getting chased off on the basis of being too female or too bright. Although, with the Nightmare's apparent disgust toward anything green, she was wary of what he might do if he was informed her coat color. B-with-the-Sharp-eyes wasn't saying anything, but he had very purposefully not been speaking, so that didn't mean much. It could have been that he was holding off until she was in the dead center of their territory. "Thank you. That's very generous." Even if it was also disingenuous.
His fur was dizzying as he ambled past; she tried not to look, skirting her paws to the edges of the heap, her tongue massaging the roof of her mouth in bleak appraisal. Poppies? She stared harder, finding not a trace of them anywhere in the industrial wreckage. "I dig." She repeated dutifully around the clotted unpleasantness in her throat, flinching when she realized that half the reason he'd invited her along was to talk, or so he'd said. She needed to be more glib, both to buy time and to keep him from noticing her reluctance. "But a bridge is quite the undertaking. You guys have plans, or is it a fly by the seat of your tails deal? That's a lot of work for two boys, even big, strapping ones." If he was going to keep throwing doll-faces and sweethearts at her, then she could participate as well. Maybe.
When the bump came, it wasn't ungentle, but she jerked away from the contact, startled and waiting for molten emotions to buck the pane of remoteness. His face remained blank as ever, carved from slate and probably hollow. A reminder to do as she was told, that was all. Her fur smoothed out again, and she inspected the mask, looking for seams or cracks before starting down wordlessly. She followed Regime's example with substantially less grace, keeping a low center of gravity as she scuttled lizard-like across the treacherous terrain. Her front paw was starting to agree with taking weight again, but it was still tender, and she had to steel it for every ounce she laid on. The journey took a few fleeting minutes, and she all but sank into an open cushion when she reached the bottom, grateful for the reprieve.
"Ah," She caught her breath, dismissing the way the surrounding mustiness tickled her nose. The female had never missed deep shade and familiar vegetation as poignantly as she did then, everything that met her gaze rotten or dying, rusted shut with unwelcoming. Only her host was flesh and blood, with B-sharp still under suspicion of being some kind of automaton. "There's not much to tell: playing my hand at being a runaway, embracing the whole black sheep outlook, that kind of thing. Asking favors from strangers and wandering into unknown territory is all part of the package, or so I've been told." It sounded candid, and there was enough truth left in it to ring clear in her voice. Just because Chrys had forgiven her didn't mean everyone did, no matter what her little brother insisted. So long as she didn't pursue the telling, it came off as tidy and a tad cryptic, surely enough to lead into some tangent for the talkative Nightmare.
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Posted: Tue Jan 19, 2010 6:39 pm
Everything that had once been was now dead and quite literally burried, making way for the glimmering towers of industrial waste. Regime was quite proud of this fact, that the only earth he could taste would be sour and barren. "I don't know what you call a plan, but we know where to lay the works and have the material to do it." There was a hardy chuckle for the latter comment. Sincere or not, he was pleased with her. Such a charming young lady- he could easily see now why B-Sharp was threatened by her. "I figure we can do it ourselves, but I've got friends who're more than happy to come slave with us. It's a dead pigeon that don't like progression, see, and my cats are with the times."
His ears may have twitched faintly as she mentioned being a runaway, but it was subtle. Otherwise the big Nightmare seemed totally at ease. He seemed to muse as she spoke, listening carefully. When he hummed a thoughtful note, smoke dribbled between the cracks in his skinless beak, swirling slowly toward the stark skyscape above. Well, now it was little wonder where the smell was coming from.
B-Sharp listened to the exchange even as he sat stiff nearby, staring straight ahead with nary a blink for a long stretch of time. He had not so much as quivered when she flinched away from him earlier, though it had been a mildly satisfying response. Let her be afraid of him; it was what he was there for. If she despised him, all the better. So long as she didn't think him weak, B was content.
Black sheep, she said, but that had many meanings. Had it been her attitude that had excluded her from this 'family' of hers or something else? Had it been their decision to hold her at arm's length or hers? Aside from his brother and his father, B-Sharp didn't have much of a grasp on the concept of family, though he was aware that he came from a rather extensive one. There was a vision on his mother, so far in his past that he did not know her name, nor her face. She was dark, though, that much he knew. He looked like her, even supposedly acted a bit like her, but she was a stranger to him and he did not love her.
It was quite easy for him to guess what his mentor would say next. She had played the magic words, whether Avalie was aware of it or not.
"And just what sort of favors would you ask a stranger, Avalie?" Regime inquired casually, and his graveling voice was suddenly velvet. "Everything here's been offered to you. You haven't asked anything of me. True? "
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Posted: Sun Feb 14, 2010 12:27 am
A nod was given as she listened to his explanations, rich with odd metaphors about birds and felines that she couldn't help but grin at faintly in spite of herself. It wasn't just the language - Regime spoke differently from anyone she'd ever met, self-assured and easy, imperious in a way that should have rankled more than it did. He likely could have said something completely inane or silly and it would come out butter smooth with purpose. Still, she wasn't the type to follow the crowd, as evidenced by her failure to grow into a proper butterfly adult like the rest of her kin. That measure of apprehension insulated her, one ear trained on the unmoving B like a homing missile, keeping her grounded in the proceedings. Attack buttons and suave talkers, the fun never ended in this heap. At least no one had brought her greater harm than a bang on the shoulder. The relief was shaken somewhat when she caught sight of grey-green tendrils creeping along his muzzle, a hushed belch of brimstone that infiltrated her senses, made her hold her breath until the wind stole it upward.
"Sounds like you've worked it out well enough, if you ask me. I wish you luck with it." At least it seemed less destructive than what he'd done to this so-called field. The thought of decimated forest still tugged at an aspect she hadn't acknowledged in a long while, a peace found in living, breathing quarters and what its absence entailed. Comfort, he'd said, because all these sharp, unyielding edges were home to him. She couldn't imagine living in a place like this, her head swiveling to better take in her position. The improbable aroma of honeysuckle hit her in the face, and it took a full second to realize the smell was coming from her, the fragrance still clinging to fur and dislodged when she moved. Her lungs expanded in it, somehow pleased to find that not everything had abandoned her to this place, at least not yet. It centered her again, made some of the tension flow out of her shoulders.
Which was why she grew still instead of jumping when the question came, surprise making her recall old camouflaging impulse once more, about to flatten out on her faded cushion even though he couldn't see her in the first place. That wasn't the tangent she'd expected him to take, especially not when it had been a mostly rhetorical statement, offered like a joke that no one got. What could she ask of a stranger who slaughtered flowers and had a killer at his beck and call? There was no restraining the quick, contemplative glance she shot at B-Sharp, remembering the way he'd stopped when the Nightmare had called him back, how he'd been shut down in an instant. It would be nice, a wheedling little voice whispered, if she didn't have to watch her back all the time, if he would stay immobilized instead of pursuing her the second she was out of Regime's presence.
A hot streak of shame unraveled itself across her throat, suddenly irritated with her own cowardice, the conniving edge to her mind. Wanting to extract a promise of security when she was more than capable of dealing with it? Even if she had to resort to fleeing, that was better than whining to get her way. And if she was honest, she didn't want him to stop because someone he deferred to told him so. Not that she was unappreciative of being in one piece, but the whole thing was unnerving, reaching deep into his expression and twisting until nothing but an unpainted puppet face remained. Even if it was out of the question, some kind of mutual apology would have been better received. Psychopathic tendencies aside, she'd seen something in that glade that made her think there was more to it. Things powered by hate didn't create anything, let alone music. The fact that he'd paused to assassinate a flower on the way went temporarily overlooked.
She stared at her paws, turning the possibilities over with them, wanting to laugh it off but nervous to refuse Regime once more. "Well, mm..." She began slowly, in utter contrast to the frantic procession in her head. "I don't suppose you have a pair of wings lying around somewhere?" Maybe that wasn't much better than laughter might have been, but it slipped out anyway, self-deprecating and a little amused. He had bits and bobs all over the place, a collection of thrown out things. It wasn't impossible that someone, somewhere had tired of flight.
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Posted: Sun Feb 14, 2010 8:58 pm
Wings? B-Sharp couldn't stop a snort, his shoulders jumping with it momentarily. She was gaudy enough without a pair of growths cluttering her back, he thought, though he doubted her intentions were ornamental. He did not, however, put two and two together right away- family and wings. No, he was more inclined to think it was just another form of running away, perhaps of making herself unreachable? His dim, gray eyes traced her gold-studded back, lines of tension that grew or faded with how she had conversed with Regime. Wherever she belonged, it wasn't here, and she knew it. Still, she was putting on a brave face- what else could she do? In a way, this might have been more satisfying than watching her bleed out.
"Pair of wings, mm?" Regime hummed another deep, musing note of brass. If she had thought she might silence him with an impossible request, Avalie would find she was mistaken, because the Nightmare was hemming and hurming to himself like she'd asked him for a slice of wheat toast and jam.
"Well, I'll tell ya, we don't got any of those layin' around the house. Even if we did, I'd rather you have a pair of fresh ones. Scraps are for dogs, not ladies, ain't that right, B?"
"Yes sir."
"A pair of wings," He said again, nodding slowly. "If that's what you want, baby, I'll get 'em for you." A grin slithered over that bone-bare black maw. "You come back here after the Heat's hit the center-sky for the seventh time past today and I'll have 'em for ya. You collar that jive, kitten? Glims."
At the final word, a nickname of his, B-sharp slid effortlessly to his feet, approaching Avalie slowly to stand at her side and just slightly behind her.
"Time to go," He told her simply, "Say good-bye."
"It's been a pleasure, Avalie. B's gonna lead you back to the nasty green, but you'll come back and see me, right? Pick up them wings of yours."
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Posted: Wed Feb 17, 2010 11:44 pm
By her own estimation, she'd been doing a fair job of keeping any obvious sentiment off her face. The rude sound that met her words went ignored, mainly because she'd anticipated that kind of reception, a childish desire to belong ridiculed for being spoken aloud. And it was a strange, stupid diversion to hear him make a noise on his own, not as reliant on the larger male's whims as she'd suspected, like he had to remind his heart to pump if it wasn't given strict orders. Maybe not a robot in boy's clothes after all, something flesh and blood enough to be outclassed, and at the very least outrun. When Regime did not disagree as well, she couldn't stop the way her pulse fluttered, prepared to dart back to the best of her ability if he was displeased and the same smoke that tore greasy holes in the air was aimed her way. He'd been remarkably civil so far, but she could chew clear through nerves without noticing her jaws were working, and there was no telling what mood the other was entertaining without eyes to work off of.
Avalie's teeth clenched in a fidgety smile to keep from slipping in any rash commentary, knowing it was a waste and unable to help herself. The conversation that went on over her head sounded vaguely rehearsed, though she knew what an impossibility it was. Had they done this type of thing before? The prospect was jarring, and her toes curled against it, fighting the impulse to be defensive or the least bit optimistic. B was in perfect line of sight to see the long muscles in her back bunch together as she waited for the cushion to fall apart and a trap door to appear beneath that, figuratively or otherwise. Mockery would have been preferable at this point, the ebbing threat of violence pulled forward again by the moon lodged in her throat. It took a while for the rest of it to sink in, that he'd just agreed to a task she'd originally offered in jest. At the same time, it was the one element missing from her jigsaw life, the piece that drew it all together and made it whole. How could he say yes to what nature had denied her so indifferently? If anyone wielded that kind of power, the Nightmare did. Everything around them was in defiance of the natural order: barren, startling, an eye-catching, soul-crushing edifice. One more opportunity to spit at the universe was probably as appealing as never fording a river again.
Pure dismissal came, and she stood quicker than B's arrival at her side might have dictated, only too willing to be kicked out with the low-grade throb in her shoulder returning. The female's gaze flicked over the massive creature one last time, weighing and guarded. It was a trick, a method of putting her in her place, and yet the answer that surged up from her was hardly unexpected. "Yes..." She murmured finally, and it felt appropriate to shift a little on her good ankle, giving a curious sort of curtsy to the blind beast before turning to follow her host's chauffeur out of the inner circle. "Thank you, and goodbye, Regime." For now.
On the way back up, she became aware of the fact that she wasn't breathing, instead keeping the stagnant air trapped snug in her chest. When she'd been younger, the female had made private bets in her head, that if she could achieve a certain task she would be rewarded in some fashion. If she made it all the way to the top without stopping to refill her lungs, then it wasn't a lie and she could have her birthright. If only it were that simple. All she could envision was him tearing the wings off an unfortunate moth and offering the two, paper-thin slips to her on a platter edged in rust. Or maybe he'd go bigger, have B-sharp catch a bird, give her the desperate thing all tied and flapping. Regime was secretly a genie, and requests needed to be worded specifically or dire consequences would follow. Pity she hadn't been aware that the dented lamp at hand was the kind that actually worked.
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