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 Posted: Tue May 01, 2007 5:59 pm
A particular conflict had seemed to arise the moment the two had met. They were children - they were foolish children. With heads the size of a Mammoth and minds regarded rather than heart, they strode about with fight in their eyes. It was a fiery fate for two individuals who had only just began their conquest along invisible Rail Road tracks that had been laid upon the ground by some entity or sense of spontaneousness. They were trapped with one another - bound together through commitment, honor, and a general feeling of being intertwined. Throughout their fights, they always returned to one another; they always returned to that first day of staring one another in the eyes. That bravery and tacit admiration was their glue.
Even so, such an observation was overshadowed by malice. There were days in which neither of the two could stand one another. Such was the case with the late evening. Marcello had grown tired of the antics and jabber of his wild-eyed companion. The boredom within his mind had been heightened by the participation of a few of the other crew members upon the Bus. A planning session, they had called it - most attending for kicks or to satisfy the apparent ego of the ring-leading party members, Paul and Ansel - and Paul insisted that Marcello find something better to do.
All that had been left free on the Bus had been Mary - who had soon departed for an outing to some obscure site no one had been particularly interested in.
Except Marcello.
Mary, who Marcello understood to be a director of filming Paul's stand-up routines, had mentioned a fountain. She had described it with vigor and enthusiasm. The beauty of such a description had left Marcello in awe. Unlike the factual comedy and experiences of Paul and the 'planning party', the fountain talk had been inclusive. Marcello had been capable of relating to it. There was no mention of 'what happened in the summer of 1987' or whether or not a woman named Amelia Earhart had vanished above a named triangle. It had been modern - it had been recent - it had mattered for all sake! While Marcello had been incapable of relating to the historical jargon, he had been perfectly capable of relating to the elaborate description and fantastical nature of Mary's desired location for the evening. She had mentioned white stone as shining as a pearl - perhaps made of Marble. She had mentioned intricate carvings of people, of sea-creatures, and of birds - and she had mentioned the sparkling water of a blue unknown to the sky or sea - a clear blue, a fresh blue, illuminated by golden light.
'It is divine at night!', Mary had exclaimed before leaving. 'The water is like magic, oh, you'd love it, Marc, but it's far too late for you to go with me'. With such a note, she had gathered her things and had ruffled his head - a symbol of affection Marcello had not particularly liked from the day he had arrived. She had then left with only a good-bye and a scolding of Paul for swearing too loudly in front of the young boy who they had grown to call Marc.
With Mary's departure, and the occupation of the others, Marcello had been left alone. He had stood upon the Bus - observing the cramped space of his mobile home. It was clean; it was stark - and there was hardly anything spread about the many seats. a few blankets had been tossed over the tops of the chairs, a few back-packs, a few boxes - a few paper plates. The Bus was a funny contraption of drawers held high above the head, seats spread for at least twelve rows, and obnoxiously bright lighting. It's colors were nonsensical and dull - though Marcello had noticed that, after his arrival, certain individuals had began to liven the place up with color out of eagerness and fascination. Regardless, the Bus was no playground for a boy of his stature [or mental stature]. It was simply a place to sleep in the evenings and be sheltered from the street - as well as something Paul had referred to as Property Tax. Given that, Marcello was often bored upon the thing. Given that, he was prone to his supposed mischief and wanderings. However, as he insisted, he would not land himself into trouble if someone would simply give him something to do other than stand on the Bus or tidy up the Driver's area.
Driven by his own boredom after Mary's departure, Marcello had fallen into a daydream. He had envisioned the fountain, with its cool and shining waters. He had envisioned the texture of the stone, and the realism of the sculptures carved into it. A beauty it had proven within his mind - and it was such an infatuation with the mythologicalized item that had led him to disembark himself. With the others busy and not paying close attention, Marcello had slipped off of the Bus. He had pried open the doors, and he had casually walked off as if going to find a bathroom within the truck stop they had settled in for the evening.
Such was the story of how he had gotten lost within the night-life of Durem. The world had changed when he had lost sight of the Bus and count of his steps. No longer did the buildings look familiar; no longer did the air appear pleasant. He had stood firmly on the side-walk after finding an inhabited section of the town - crowded with a sea of bodies of adults, young adults, and a few children no older than he himself. There he had observed half-nervously. Soon his thoughts had began to fall away due to his minor misgivings - the likes of which pride would not allow him to admit.
Marcello's vision of the fountain had faded within the seeming hour of his confusion and lack of direction. He forgot it all entirely by the time he heard the clock chiming in the distance to signal the passing hour. Thus he had become something he had never dreamed of becoming - for, during his time of being particularly awake, he had never been alone. For the first time since the Train had stopped at the station and Paul had taken him away, Marcello was alone - a solitary figure, small, young, and without guidance.
Except for Mary's destination description.
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Posted: Thu May 24, 2007 7:05 pm
Adian jolted once as he realized that he had actually fallen sleep standing up. For the past week he had been working double shifts, due to a resent firing. The pay was great because he was getting major overtime but the hours were really starting to kill him. He really hoped they got a new guy soon. Besides the baby sitting pay was cutting into pay check too, and his time with Reiha. He was making serious progress with the girl before this, but now she was starting to get all distent from him again, and Adian didn't know what else to do.
He hopped that this little ploy would give them some time to spend together but instead she just ran off with that damned bird and he stood there falling asleep. He wasn't sure he could handle much more than this.
"Thank god for sleep in days." he muttered, yawning, then glanced at his watch, surpised at the time, "Oh s**t, Reiha should be in bed by now." And so should I. he thought to himself as he went to seek the surly girl out.
Reiha was surrounded by books. When Adian started to work more she really wasn't sure how to feel. For a while there she almost feared he went out to drink every night but the third night she stayed up and watched him come home. He didn't look or act or sound drunk at all. He sounded tired, and fell asleep while trying to make dinner, so Reiha felt safe. Tired people weren't people to be scared of, tired people were weak. Besides Reiha wasn't sure Adian was a person, he might just be an Adian. Like the way Berial wasn't a person, he was Berial. You had to fear people, you didn't have to fear names.
Reiha wasn't thinking about fear right now, she was thinking about moth mygration and how city lights distrupt their flight paths. She had hundreds of other books, on other random subjects, she wanted to know it all. The book store was supose to be a short trip, while she found some new stuff to read, and there was a small reasonable pile off to the side, going untouched as she read though the many books she wouldn't ask for, she had to read those first, they weren't going to come home with her.
"Do crows migrate, Korbin?" Reiha asked, eyes not raising from the book she was reading.
Korbin was really rather bored, but Reiha appeared happy and the weak human was gone at least. Though he was pretty sure that would end soon. There was not much sound from the bookshop around them and he just heard a new one. Since the door hadn't opened he was pretty sure it was Adian. Oh well, tonight really hadn't been all that bad.
"I don't know." Korbin admited, fluffing up his feathers, then fluttered down. "I think he's comming though"
"I figured it was getting kinda late." Reiha rose, starting to put all her books away. By the time Adian actually found her she had a stack of four reasonably priced books in her hands and persented them to him silently. Adian paid it easily, and though he promised dinner he told them that they would just be heading home, and apologized. Reiha just shrugged, holding her books close to her chest as Adian held the door open for her.
Adian was exgusted. he had wanted to take Reiha out to dinner but he just couldn't stay awake any longer. He rubbed the back of his head as he held her hand. He didn't have a car so he was stuck with walking. He didn't have a phone to call a cab and Korbin didn't act well on the bus. It really wasn't that long of a walk, and soon he'd be home and in bed. God he wished he already was.
"Adian" Reiha's voice snapped Adian out of his half awake walk. "There's a boy up ahead." She slipped her hand from his and pointed the boy who walked twords them. He looked very alone, Reiha noticed and he only appeared to be around her age. And Reiha knew kids around her age shouldn't be alone, besides her of course.
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Posted: Thu May 24, 2007 9:40 pm
Three particular thoughts had been worked into Marcello's world. Over and over, he would repeat them within his mind - and he would stare towards the ground, all around, or up at the sky as if trying to seek a manifestation of his many tangents. There was first the idea of loss, most provident and bewildering. Though he was not the most fond of the Bus, he had grown to recognize its familiarity. The very notion of possibly not finding it was ... Ludicrous. Quite frankly, his assumption led to the remainder of thoughts. Paul was a Comedian - and Comedians certainly held some form of reputation. If he could find a way to utilize that, there was a high probability of everything turning out alright. The problem was: how did he utilize such a factor? Swimming in time with the lot of tunes, Marcello's brain chippered over the idea of holding the fort. He did not approach a soul in request for aide, his mind screeching that he could handle it by himself. After all, he did not need anyone - they needed him. Such a philosophy, be it attributed to hubris, was his.
All at once, Marcello's mind had seemed to click. He had touched the green scarf about his neck. He had pulled it down a little to just barely touch the skin beneath, which seemed to beam with a few beads of sweat. Fingers hypnotized by the perspiration, the boy had began to think much more clearly. The panic had subsided. He had several choices of which to hold himself accountable for. He knew the description of Mary's Fountain. He knew Paul's full alias and occupation - and he knew that both of the items could be exploited. However, exploiting them seemed to involve gathering help, gathering assistance. Unless he pardoned the idea of casual conversation. As if suffering an epiphany, Marcello's lips had curled to a devious smirk - filled with self-satisfaction and fulfillment. In a segment of minutes, however many had passed, he had solved his complication. All that remained was picking the perfect candidate to engage in. He wanted someone simple. Someone who would not be too talkative - someone who was likely unenthusiastic about a sudden jabber with a strange young child.
At a cantering pace, Marcello had traveled. His eyes had surveyed the crowds with great interest once again. The idea of his plans falling together gave him a thrill. He could do anything he wanted. He just had to remember that language - and reason - were his devote guiding force. For a moment he had failed to acknowledge such a factor, and the entropy that had ensued had been traumatic. He had panicked. He had forgotten precisely what brilliance he held. He was a very intelligent boy. He would use his resources.
Along the walk, Marcello had seen many faces. He had seen the faces of grouchy old men - covered in soot. He had seen the faces of dazzling women and men, laughing, talking, all engaged. What had remained was the fact that he had not caught a perfect specimen. Until his eyes had locked with that of an awkward posse - composed of a tired looking man, a girl, and a bird. As if having heard the notation of himself, he had focused on them - as if he had been invited into a sort of conversation - and with that, he had sought the opening lines to an unwritten script. Fixing his over-sized scarf by tossing it over his shoulder, he had slipped away only for a moment to grab a newspaper from off of the side-walk. Then he had returned, as if determined to participate in a dashing masquerade. His feet had plummeted against the ground as he approached the three, holding the paper with a distinct business-motivation. Now there was the matter of remembering the words. "G'evenin', sir!" Macello had chimed in direction to Adian. His voice had been small, bounding, and joyous on the contrary of his prior figure. As if a switch had been flipped, he suddenly was full of perks. Regardless, that did not excuse the quirkiness of his accented voice, nor his distinct articulation of his words. He obviously knew what words he spoke - although one could twiddle their thumbs about how he knew such words in the first place. Little boys could not possibly hold such fine vocabularies.
"I apologize for stoppin' you on your way, but would you care to buy a paper? It's the last one in the stack - best record I've ever had this far, and selling all my papers in a day would be unbeatable!" Marcello had given a bright smile. His shoulders had seemed to lower as his neck straightened. With such a motion, he seemed to grow taller, more confident.
However, as he would not think, only a fool would believe he were a paper-boy. The newspaper of which he held was falling apart and covered in dusted dirt, footprints marked all over it. What paper-boy attempted to sell such a thing?
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Posted: Sun May 27, 2007 6:48 pm
"Well good for the boy." Adian grumbled in reply to Reiha's statement and continued forward. He was so out of it that he barely understood what the dark little girl was saying. So when the boy approched the pair he was a little surpised to hear another voice. He jolted a little and took a few steps back as a few eyes peaked open to stare at the dirty paper.
"There is no such thing as paper boys squirt." Adian reminded him, "That be child labor which is aparently wrong." He yawned once, rubbing one eye before bleering down at the paper again, "And that's yesterday's paper."
Reiha glared at the paper boy, holding Korbin in her arms as she took a small step forward. Adian was a harmless fool, she was pretty sure he was anyway, and he wouldn't know how to protect himself from a scam but Reiha was smart and she could tell he was trying to trick them out of something. Now if it was just money he's a real idiot as that paper really sucked, so Reiha asumed it was something else.
"What do you want?" she demanded, glaring at the boy as she stood in front of her gaurdian.
Adian roused himself a little at Reiha's harsh question and looked around. The kid was sure small, looked to be Reiha's age, maybe younger, and he appeared to be alone. At least as Adian looked around he saw no one looking at the kid. In fact all he saw were people who didn't look like they were anywhere close to being parents. Not to mention the kid's clothes were a little nice, nicer than this neighborhood had to offer.
"Are you lost kid?"
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Posted: Sun May 27, 2007 7:21 pm
Marcello had cocked a brow at the insinuation that there was no such thing as a paper boy. It had never occurred to him that the concept was outdated, though he supposed the man was correct. Paul had never mentioned paper boys outside of a historical reference - and always in a negative light. He would shout about them and how they use to exploit something called Yellow Journalism. He would criticize their having existed. Then again, what did Paul not criticize other than his own stage-acts? Marcello had never understood the whole ordeal, but he had learned that valued lesson of kids selling papers. He had thought it would come in handy, but, as it appeared, his plan was greatly flawed.
Putting on a face of utter confusion and attempted innocence, Marcello had given a broad smile. His eyes had seemed to project his craftiness - as if he were on ground to refuse any such compromise of his original story. "You sure?" He had asked. The fire in his heart had seemed to grow larger - to burn harder; then, all at once, it had been extinguished when he realized that there was such a thing as Child Labor. He could remember Paul having praised it once - thanking the world for doing something right and disposing of that horror. One thing they both could likely agree on: working children was not a brilliant idea. Marcello had no desire to work. He rather enjoyed sitting around the Bus all day - being pampered and well groomed by the social-net that had seemed to weave about him. He had a wonderful life - and that life did not include work. A loud snort had flown from his nose as he had dropped the paper in defeat. Cautiously, he had wiped the dirt that had gathered on his hands onto his pants.
It was then that Reiha's out-right demand had boxed his ears. Marcello's eyes had snapped towards her as if she had just paid him some grave insult. He wanted nothing - just an inclusion to conversation to avoid asking for directions. Almost instantaneously, Marcello had gawked at Aidan. The idea of his being lost had been a stab to the heart. Though it was true, he simply did not want to admit it. He could find his way anywhere he wanted. He just needed to ... Think. That was all.
With his mouth agape, Marcello had stammered out his defenses - a bit of rage riling in his tone of voice. "I'm not lost!" He had wailed. Clearly, though, he was. His utter defiance of the idea was sheer proof. What reason had there been for his to explode the very retort? The young boy had tugged at his scarf habitually. He had stood as tall as he possibly could, looking at the two humanoid individuals and the bird. With a heavy sigh, he had looked at the ground. He had mumbled something before speaking louder. "A Fountain. Do you know where one is?" He had asked. He had not dared describe it - as if he thought it were some sacred monument that would be clearly recognized.
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Posted: Mon May 28, 2007 1:19 pm
"I am not in the mood for this." Adian grumbbled, rubbing his face as he looked around for a coffee place somewhere, anywhere. It wasn't his lucky day though. If it was this would have happened any time but now. His mind just could not work right now. Still the man has a lost kid to make unlost and a little girl to get home and put in bed and both kids seemed like they didn't want to admit they were kids.
"Look, there are no fountains near here. Where are your parents kid? Or your gaurdian, or something?" he asked, glaring down at the kid. He wasn't in the mood for bullshit. Normally Adian could handle alot, go with the flow and everything but not tonight. Tonight he couldn't handle anything.
Reiha glared at the kid, then looked down at Korbin. The kid was acting werid, he was trying to hide something and Reiha didn't like it when people tried to hide things from her. Of course the conversation was more between him and her gaurdian though. Adian was acting werid too. He was being curt and almost rude.
Finally handling a situation well she thought to herself with a smile as she stroked her bird.
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Posted: Mon May 28, 2007 2:06 pm
A look of sheer bewilderment had seemed to befall the young child. His figure had remained tall, stern - though it was apparent an unusual light had been cast upon him. His tawny eyes had grown wider; his mouth had seemed to hang open as if he were utterly disturbed. It was with such expression and shock that he had looked away from the man and back to Reiha - as if he expected her to tame the wild adult he felt had crunched down on him. He had been greeted with nothing more than a glare.
What betrayal he felt - and he did not know any member of the lot. He knew them not by name, not by personality. He knew them as nothing more than strangers on the road in another town. Wrinkling his nose at the girl, Marcello had seemed to decide that he was not particularly fond of her rudeness and silence. "What about you and your bird?" He had retorted Adian's statement. He would not believe that no fountain existed within the town. Mary had mentioned it - and he was certain she had seen it before. How else would she have described it with such vigor and enthusiasm? All at once he had seemed to brush Adian off, choosing to ignore the idea of a parent, guardian, or anything of the sort. It was as if he had none - or as if he had no desire to return immediately. "Have either of you seen a fountain?" His voice had seemed to hold a desperate note. Though he would never admit its existence, it was clear that he wanted whatever fountain he had began seeking. "I-It's big. It's white - and it ..." He had began to simplify and recite Mary's description. Big. White ... "And it has water like nothing the sky's ever seen." He had completed his description, assuming that he had given more than enough information for the girl to understand the importance of the Fountain. It was a marvel. He wanted to see it much more than he wanted to return to the Bus. The only problem was knowing where it was. Just like the Bus, Marcello had no earthly clue which direction to begin in.
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Posted: Sun Jun 03, 2007 3:12 pm
Reiha raised an eyebrow as the kid easily cut Adian out of the conversation. Normally she wouldn't have a problem with that expect she wasn't sure if she really wanted her allience to be with this idiot of a stranger rather than the idiot of guardian she knew Adian was. Reiha gave a little sigh at how she was surrounded by morrons.
"I don't like water." she replied shortly, "Besides, isn't it a little late for a kid like you," Like him, not like her. Reiha wasn't a child. "to be out? You should get your Mu to take you." Reiha was still not entirely sure what a Mu was, she just knew that everyone had one expect her. She had Adian instead of a Mu, but she was okay with that. Mu's told you wnat to do. Reiha hated that. Adian almost never told her what to do anymore.
Adian might be tired but he wasn't stupid, he knew what was going on. The kids cut him out of the conversation. He let out a little sigh and reached up to smack his face, a little hard, enough to keep the sting lingering in his cheek and his hand for a little while, enough to keep to him awake for a moment.
"Kid. Look, I'm tired, and I want to go home. So where the hell are your parents? Or guardians, or what ever?"
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Posted: Sun Jun 03, 2007 3:53 pm
The wind has seemed to shift on Marcello. He could feel his heart pitter-pattering with disdain as his ideas were squashed by a lack of enthusiasm or knowledge. There were many roads of which he could travel. He could find another person to question, or he could return to the Bus and find something to do there. The primary conflict, as it seemed to be, was whether or not he would be admitting defeat - and whether or not he would gain another opportunity within the evening to venture somewhere and be entertained. As his mind reported: Paul provided scarcely a thought of entertainment for a child - and whether or not anyone else would was elusive. He had found compatibility with Ginny and Mary, but the both of them were preoccupied for the evening as it would seem.
As if lost within his own thoughts, Marcello had placed his hands over his eyes and had began to rub at them. His shoulders had shaken somewhat - a few quiet noises slithering from his parted lips. All at once, he had lifted his head again to observe the group of individuals he had stopped. They would be no use to him if he were to find the Fountain. Likely so, they would be no use in finding the truck-stop and the Bus either. They did not appear overly happy to make his acquaintance - how would their enthusiasm in aiding him fare? Staring with a cold, harsh, and distant look, Marcello had seemed to fall within his own contemplation. Then, as if suffering an epiphany, he understood what it was he would need to do in order to get what he wanted. It wasn't as if he had not began down the path in the first place - with lies and distinct inquiries. Keeping a stern face, he had began shaking his head about - a loud snort flittering from his nose. "What's a Mu?" He had murmured before falling back into his focus. Once more the world had turned to the elder-figure, Adian. Marcello's optics had been glued to him. His station had been tuned in instinctively - and - at once - as if it were the overall guarantee that he would receive what he so desired - Marcello spoke a simple idea : "Fountain."
His face was etched with determination and valor. He did not need an escort to the bus at that moment - or to some location where someone could return him like a lost puppy to Paul. All at once, he had seemed to insist that there was no other location of which he could be carefully deposited and forgotten by the strangers. The smirk on his face depicted a feel of utter cockiness - as if he expected his story to be unquestionable. However, for good measure, he chose to mention precisely what he had been fading away from: "And a bus." He had spoken softly, coyly. "At a Truck Stop." His tiny vocals had seemed to quiver with disdain towards the idea of a Truck Stop.
With an irritable shake of his head, Marcello had tossed the News paper he had used away. He had watched it float through the air in scatters and fly into the ground - nothing more than a littering mess that someone else would be forced to attend to. "Fountain and Bus" He had reiterated for Adian - as if expecting him to comprehend it fully.
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Posted: Sun Jun 03, 2007 4:19 pm
"Oh that's ******** it!" Adian snapped in a rare show of temper. He couldn't, and wouldn't, handle this werid a** kid anymore. So he did the simples thing he could think of. He reached down and simply grabed Marc. No more questions, no more conversations, no more fountians. For a man whose living is carring boxes from one place to another Marc was an easy package. He lifted the kid up and just threw him over his shoulder before he started down the street again. He was just sick of this whole damn mess.
"I want to go to bed you little brat." he grumbled, knowing Reiha would follow if only to gloat in this kids face, "And you're not going to deley me any longer. We're going to find a police station and you can stay there till who ever is looking for you finds you. Or you can tell me where the hell your home is and I'll take you there, but we're not going to a damn fountian."
Reiha couldn't stop the grin as the kid was just plucked off the ground like he was nothing. She started to follow Adian, a few steps behind so she could watch the kid's face. She seen Adian like this only once and that was in the car the one time. It was odd how when Adian got mad Reiha felt the safest around him. Maybe because even though Adian was pissed, and he really didn't like this kid right now all he did was pick him up and walk down the street with him.
Korbin snickered too, watching the boy be carried off as he stayed snuggled in Reiha's arms. he could fly, if he felt like it, in fact when they got back he planed on going hunting but he loved being carried by Reiha when they traveled, made him feel loved and safe.
"The boy got what he deserved." Korbin snickered, and fluffed up his feathers when Reiha agreed.
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Posted: Sun Jun 03, 2007 4:50 pm
Marcello had seemed utterly shocked by the display of force and action. At once his eyes had widened. The smug expression that had been plastered to his face had been stripped clean as he realized things were not going to work out as he had initially planned. His world had seemed to spiral downward with the happening. He had thought about shouting for help. However, what good would yelling do him? It would simply land him in a similar scenario. Regardless of it all, impulse had remained increasingly strong. Marcello had seemed to worm about like a skeptical animal heading for the slaughter. A whinny or two had seemed to escape his mouth - loud, shrillful, obnoxious whines of a fearful child. "Lemme go!" He had wailed, his feet kicking - his hands instinctively flailing. "I told you! A Bus! A Truck Stop!" Marcello's voice had seemed to fill with a desperation to be let down - as if the idea of being handled roughly and crudely were horrifying and wrong. He was a boy filled with his own sense of accomplishment and independence. To be handled like live-stock - like cargo - was demeaning and hurtful.
Not quite sure how to explain himself, Marcello had needed to think. His brain had refused to function in an appropriate manner. He knew not how to be put down - which had become the primary goal. The desire for the Fountain had seemed to fade away instantaneously as he became concerned only with his dignity and well-being. Cowardly, craven - he certainly did not hold up to his own ethical code of bravery and determination - of persistence. As it would seem, the tides changed when the dual-of-wit-and-word ceased. Confused and disheveled by the lifting, Marcello had only been left with that fleeting upper-hand and cockiness. Then, as if by a miracle thought, he had shouted out Paul's name - as if believing it were a god-send and that it would do him some justice. After all, Paul was a famous Comedian ... "Paul Revere!" He had coughed out the name - and then he had repeated it - as if it would explain the fact that he had been mentioning a Bus and a Truck Stop.
The flailings had reached a climax before coming to a complete halt. Marcello had grown quiet and still - realizing he had betrayed his original goal in favor of the new one - which likely would do him no good either. His hands had seemed to grab his scarf - then pull at it. Soon his quaking fingers had abandoned the fabric in favor of something more secure - more treasured. He had reached back - as if trying to get to his pockets. It was at that moment that he revealed the old, yellow hanky. It was clutched within his hands like a security blanket - like secret documents he would never release. Nervously, with that sense of shock and distrust, he had gazed at Reiha as she had gazed at him. Oh the unfamiliar. It brought him absolutely no comfort. Biting his lip, his face had turned demanding and enraged. A tacit statement had been made. Simple. Plain. ' Get-a-hold-of-him'.
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Posted: Mon Jun 04, 2007 12:51 pm
Adian had no idea what the kid was talking about. Adian didn't watch stand up, he was more of a sport and wrestling fan, also anything with hot girls in skimpy out fits, that be good too. Not that he got to watch much TV with Reiha to take care of, even if he did he wouldn't know of Paul Revere. So he continued on, not really getting why he was calling out random names and places.
"Kid, i'm going to give you a little advce, try speaking in full sentences or else we're just going to the police station. I'm tired of dealing with you." he told him honestly. "So ether shut up or give me directions to your home in full sentences. I'm not letting you down ether so don't ask for that." He was being up front about it at least.
Korbin snickered, though nether he nor Reiha enjoyed Adian much but they did enjoy this show of Adian freaking out at another kid. Plus there was a certain smugness that Adian could never do that with Reiha. Korbin would be attacking his eyes by now. Korbin fluffed up his feathers a little and just watched the show. He found the whole thing very entertaining.
Reiha watched with a sneer as well. "Whose Paul Revere?" she asked though, taking a few steps forward to make it easier for them to talk. Reiha liked to learn new things and she knew that the kid wouldn't call out that name unless it was special, maybe it was this kid's Mu or something.
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Posted: Tue Jun 05, 2007 6:44 pm
As it seemed, Marcello was in a predicament that he had not imagined himself in prior to exiting the Bus. He had imagined the trip functioning smoothly. He would follow the description he had hear, and he would have a good time with one of the few individuals he felt entertained by. He would return to the Bus, possibly eat, and possibly sleep - as any child would have done. However, his plan had been effectively overrun by error and surprise. Marcello had not calculated such factors. In fact, he had not acknowledged their existence to a great extent. From the start, he had not been particularly surprised with life. He had been defiant - rubbing his ego in the face of fate with the attitude of 'I can't be touched'. Elitist. Proud. Overbearing. Alone and over the shoulder of a strange man, he was forced to accept such ideals and how they defined him. Though, in his benefit, it was safe to say he may have learned a lesson or two regarding swindling information and analyzing who to bother for answers.
Hesitantly, quietly, he had puckered his lips and made a popping noise. A staggering breath had been taken as he had placed his antique-esque hanky against his mouth. All the while his eyes had watched Reiha with that desperation and anger - that commanding air. He had listened cautiously to the lot of them - and he had tried in vain, to remember the precise location of the Bus. He only remembered that there were many trucks - a Gas Station - and a few buildings surrounding the area. If he remembered, one of the stores had been a book store? At least it had contained books. Marcello had not gone inside, and thus he knew nothing of the place. He hardly could remember the name of anything about the area - except that the Truck Stop had contained the name of the town 'Durem'.
Brushing off Adian's question in favor of Reiha's - at least for the moment - Marcello had lowered the hanky from his mouth. Who was Paul Revere? Paul would have said something ridiculous- or he would have told the truth. Paul would have made a joke about the entire ordeal on top of the identity - and he, possibly, would have delivered free tickets were he determined to scout viewers. No. Perhaps not. Regardless, Marcello could only dwell on what Paul might have done were he there to defend his name and explain who he was. Heaving an irritable sigh, Marcello's lips had parted to allot time to speak: "He's Paul."
The information had been vague, almost useless. The unfortunate fact of it was that Marcello was unaware of what to call the man. He had only ever thought to call him by that chosen identity. As if sensing the lacking nature of the information, Marcello had spoken again - seemingly adding on or correcting himself. "I live with him - and Mary, and Ginny ... " He had gone down the list of individuals he lived with, before casting an angry, snarling glare at Adian. "On a Bus."
At that precise moment the focus had changed - and the mood swings had not ceased. Marcello had chosen to distract himself with the emotion. If he spoke - if he argued - then he would not think about those ridiculous mistakes he had made. "Truck. Stop. Bus." He had sneered sarcastically before setting his hanky, once again, near his mouth - as if breathing into it gave him some sort of strength. "It was ... Uhm. By a few stores. A fence was up - and a big sign." He had explained while trying to draw up details. There was only one location he could validate. Unfortunate as it was for him to accept, he had to think of describing the area - the Bus. "I think there was a book store. A Gas ... Station." He had began rambling, as if the information were somewhat valuable.
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Posted: Wed Jun 06, 2007 2:45 pm
Reiha watched the boy, how he sneered every second word, even while being carred in such an embaressing way and how his sneers got him nothing. Still he did it. Reiha had to admire that, a little, the way he didn't back down even after he was beaten. Didn't mean she had to like the kid, or didn't gloat over his lost, but she admired how he handled it, with his chin out and ready to take another punch. He was just lucky that Adian was a good guy.
"He really doesn't understand the idea of full sentences, does he?" Reiha murrmed to Korbin.
"No." the bird sneered, "He really doesn't seem to get it." Korbin snickered and his cold little heart felt nothing for the boy, besides the fact that he was geting what he deserved. When a bird flys the nest too soon they die. The boy was lucky that humans were much kinder to stray young than nature was.
"Good for Paul." Adian grumbled under his breath, "I don't know where that is so we're going to the police station. Let someone whose paid to deal with this s**t deal with it." Normally Adian watched his mouth around kids. Normally Adian wasn't so freaking tired he couldn't keep both of his eyes open at the same time and was almost falling asleep while walking. "And someone with coffee." he added, almost drooling at the thought of caffine. He just needed something to get him the rest of the way home.
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Posted: Wed Jun 06, 2007 3:13 pm
Marcello had seemingly fallen silent for good. He had shut his eyes, set the hanky entirely over his face, and had breathed almost laboriously. He had never been inside of a Police Station - but he had heard more than enough about the Police in passing ear-shot. With those memories in tact, he felt not strong desire to be settled down within such a proximity. In fact, the idea made him nearly regret leaving. He should have left sooner and tailed behind Mary - or he should have simply sat down and tried to figure something else to do while the adults talked of events long since passed. The fact of the matter was that he had landed himself in a grave situation. Not only was he lost, but he was powerless as to how the situation would be handled!
Having resigned to defeat, the boy had appeared undoubtedly annoyed. His sense of self-entitlement had seemed to shine through - his odd irritation, his snorting cockiness. Though defeated, he still raged on - as if it were the only thing he had to do given the scenario.
That had changed soon into his breathing and mumbling ritual. A clumsy motion had ended in the discarding of the hanky. Marcello's tawny eyes had grown enormous as he had followed it on the brief gust of wind - his jaw opening and his heart shattering. "My Hanky!" He had yelped - his voice containing that similar panic to having been picked up. Yet, he seemed distinctly more desperate and hysteric as the item began to disappear from his sight. He had began squirming - as if trying to reach it - and it was at that point that he saw a rather unlikely figure emerge from the crowd. Salvation had found him - and it had saved his comfort-possession! Or had it?
Brisk steps had been made. Every tap had seemed to take on a rhythmic pattern as he drew nearer and nearer. The hanky had been captured - clutched in a fist like a scrap of useless paper intended for settling anger in a nonviolent way. Regardless, the rage in the eyes of the figure was evident. It shimmered like something unknown - and it characterized his face to that of a passionate individual. Certainly the emotion was strong - and, perhaps that was a good thing - for it was what delivered the attention accordingly.
It was Paul - and, for once, Marcello had sensed a pang of valiance and dedication in his features. The man had tucked the hanky into his own pocket and had seemed to rattle his fingers while approaching the group from behind; then, without warning or care, he had spoken in a grizzly tone - inferring something to humane conditions and civil rights - whatever that was intended to propose. "Kids are not hunted game, sir - and I'll ask you kindly to put mine down."
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