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 Posted: Fri Nov 07, 2008 10:30 pm
 U N P A C K I N G // And a phone call To translate, highlight past the German. "Es ist tatsächlich nicht zu schlecht hier." It's actually not too bad here.
The echoes of birds outside sounded off like an alarm; it was still early in the morning, the sun not quite having fully risen past the horizon and the many buildings reaching skyward. Boxes littered the floor, some nearly stacked to the ceiling, others laying half open or kicked to the side, where empty. Only a few stray pieces of furniture dotted the scene, mainly a sofa with most of its cushions missing and a mattress propped up against the wall in the opposite room, among a few others.
"Nein Nr., die Es keinen Weg für dass Gibt, diesmal zu geschehen." No, no. There's no way for that to happen this time
Tier gently dug into one of the boxes with his free hand, the other holding a slim cordless phone to his ear. The German flew quickly off of his tongue with a practiced flair but also a slight sense of urgency. Long distance was expensive and he had barely set himself up in the apartment as it was. Picture frames and such were pulled from the cardboard container, getting set aside onto the coffee table in front of the sofa. One depicted Tier and two other young men, one with dyed red hair and black streaks, the other Asian, gathered together in a dark arcade where the light from the flash had caused them to almost glow.
"Keine Spuren. Sie wird wahrscheinlich versuchen, Sie zu rufen." No traces. She'll probably try to call you.
His voice faltered after this, letting out a quiet sigh as he listened to the response from the other end. His father was rather good at stating things as fact even when they were subjective, something Tier learned to ignore quite fast.
More objects were getting set up on the wooden table; some dishes to be put into the kitchen, a couple of extension cords, CDs. He was beginning to wonder just where he had put the small box containing a few cartons of cigarettes and that brand new lighter he bought a couple of days ago. No matter how often it happened he always seemed to forget just how stressful moving was...
"Vielleicht bald. Ich muss eine andere Aufgabe finden... Gelds dicht." Maybe soon. I need to find another job... Money's tight.
Always jumping the gun, he was. b*****d was in Germany and was expecting a visit now? His sigh was one of amusement rather than annoyance; Tier was used to this sort of thing and, luckily, his father knew when to quit with questions like that, even if the reasoning was complete bull.
"Ach... Wartezeit, Sie haben wieder, auch bewegt? Zu Bremen?" Oh... wait, you've moved again, too? To Bremen?
Smooth, daddy. Real smooth.
At least that explained why he was so sure what he had suggested earlier wouldn't be happening, as well. Perhaps it wasn't just Mr. Ferdinand Welstein being pretentious after all.
"Nicht zu viele Leute mit unserem Nachnamen, obwohl... Seien Sie vorsichtig." Not too many people with our last name, though... Be careful.
Even in Germany it was a rare surname, making moving around still difficult to throw anyone off their trail. Pity, really, that he liked the name so much or he'd change it. Then again, if things kept up like they usually did, he very well might have to.
"Ich werde auch." I will too.
Without a doubt.
This world was too messed up and dangerous for him to not take things one step at a time. Still, it never ceased to be terribly frustrating and stressful just for him to keep a low profile everywhere he went.
It almost seemed like his father was going off on a tangent for twenty minutes before he snuck in a "guten tag" and Tier was barely ready to make the response, stumbling over his words.
"In Ordnung. Gut sprechen mit Ihnen. Guten tag." Alright. Good talking to you. Good day.
Pulling the phone away, he let his thumb glide over the 'off' button and press down, the call ending with a dull beep. Finally. The morning had barely begun and it already seemed as if the day were half gone. Tier made a mental note never to speak to his father so early in the morning again, regardless of the time in Germany. Six hour time differences were way too weird... luckily his choice of locale narrowed it down to that from the eight it had been previously.
At least things would be a little easier, that way.
Another sigh, "Ah, s**t..."; he was getting good at those. The white walls of this new apartment seemed gloomy, some how. He had never been big on painting, even for interior design,--what can you really do to make a place yours when you moved as often as he did?--but all the same it almost felt like it would go to waste if he didn't at least give it some color.
The rest couch that followed him to all of his locations looked as though it were pining for a colorful companion to brighten the room. All the rest of the furniture he owned was dull, even monochromatic. He felt thankful to the previous owner for the carpet they had installed which both felt and looked resplendent.
Idle thoughts wandered to how much it cost but were quickly tossed about and thrown away for more "pressing" thoughts like where the hell the remote to his television set was. The set was still in its box and, for now, would just have a place on the floor until he got a cabinet. Damn him for deciding to collect everything himself, the last one he had broke while pushing it into the moving van.
With a bit of motivation Tier was up on his feet and off the floor, dodging about the fresh apartment with a new sense of purpose. He was certain he had labeled the television's box properly, but what of the control? Of course he could just settle himself in front of the TV until it was located, but that was boring and bad for the eyes, anyway.
Once he was up and about it didn't take very much time for him to find the large box with the set and he dragged it out in front of the couch near the wall. Removing it was a whole 'nother ball game but it ended with little frustration. Apparently he had been smart without remembering it as the remote had actually been right on top of the set inside the box.
Lucky boy.
Cable was a no-go for now so until then he had to deal with basic, around 50 channels and not a bad deal at all. Hell, he might even keep it if he could find more then five stations he'd watch regularly. At the moment, though, he was in the mood for channel flipping so he settled himself longways on the sofa, used his arm for a pillow and nudged at the channel up button with his thumb.
Until he nodded off...
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2008 9:50 pm
. . . W H A T? // An interesting discovery It all started out simple.
He and some guys, the ones from the picture, they had gone to a bar. Legal constraints weren't exactly important, though he was surprised the red head went anyway, that was unusual. He was always following the constraints of a certain figure in his life, the unwritten laws passed by the ruler of it, the one called "father" to his friend.
Tier, Jono and Ronnie.
They ruled that old apartment; flashes of their meeting passed by and he recalled Jono asking him to dye his hair since he was obviously good at it, given his own blue coloring. Ronnie wasn't so eager to join in on that but they all chucked watermelons off the roof to the parking lot below.
That was fun...
Things started becoming strange, however.
Noises in awkward places even during conversations, all they were doing was hanging out at a bar and chatting about old times. There was one story Ronnie was telling he was certain was false but he couldn't bring himself to shoot the Asian-boy down for it. The lights in the bar were dying but none of them seemed to notice, too absorbed into their conversation and even the others within the building continued on unawares.
Something exploded and the next thing Tier knew he was on his lush, carpeted floor with a sharp pain thumping through the side of his skull. A dream.
Casting a glance towards the television, he realized just why the dream had gotten so strange. The volume was up fairly loud, apparently he had layed on the remote or something, and the first Predator film was showing.
"Ahhnooold," he slurred to himself, hands shuffling about to locate the remote and turn the volume down. Hopefully the walls weren't thin, that wouldn't be a good first impression to make. He'd be pegged the "noisy" neighbor, there was one in every complex.
Tier let out a short grunt; the pain had dulled but was still persistent. Whenever he went to the store again he would have to remember to grab some Tylenol or whatever equivalent that crappy store had. Well... the store wasn't so crappy; he had met that strange looking girl there who... right now he was having difficulty recalling her name, but whatever the case he wouldn't be forgetting her face any time soon. It was rare for there to be something interesting like that to happen so early on in a move but she had to have been the strangest looking person he had ever met.
Shaking away thoughts of earlier that week he shoved himself off the floor and set himself to work again, picking apart boxes and sorting out things, mostly kitchen utencils and plates but he managed to find some of his clothes which he just set on his bed in the mean time until he moved his dresser into his bedroom.
Empty boxes were beginning to clog up the front room. It was probably three or four hours after he had woken up and what was on the television had since changed. No attention had been paid to it until then, the noise had just been there to keep him company like earlier... except without the sleeping.
Stupid.
Once he finished emptying the contents of the current box, which had the remaining cushions for the couch, Tier took the box and folded it flat, setting it atop the rest of the collection. With his foot as leverage he pressed the rest of them together and tucked them beneath his arm and he grabbed the key off the kitchen counter. He didn't bother with a jacket despite the temperature he figured it was, the t-shirt would be enough for the short trip he was planning.
Down the hall and into the stairwell, not finding the short trip down one floor worth the use of the elevator, he acknowledged a few of the people in the parking lot as he pushed the door open and dodged around the side of the building. The green dumpster was shoved up against the corner of the alley, what he had sought after. The smell of trash from long ago lingered and he was glad he would only be here for a few moments, still he couldn't help but pulling the neck of his shirt up over his nose to hold off the stench as best he could.
Lifting up the black cover, making sure it was against the wall enough to not fall back, Tier tugged the folded boxes out from under his arm and began shoving them inside amongst the black bags that seemed so near bursting. That would be a travesty; local apartment dumpster explodes, young man caught in garbage wave and was never found. Awesome.
Protect...
Tier froze. For a moment he stood in silence, shirt neck still covering his nose and arms submerged far into the dumpster. Had that been a voice, just then? Carefully he glanced towards the parking lot at his left but there didn't appear to be anyone there, all of the cars were empty and there were no loiterers from what he could see. Perhaps from up above, some one might have had their window open and their TV a tad too loud before turning it down. Yes, that seemed reasonable. Once that conclusion was reached he resumed his smushing of boxes against bags, trying to get them into the garbage container as flat as he could manage without causing any of them to rupture.
Guard him.
Was that a woman's voice? It was the same thing again and, once again, he stopped all movement. That couldn't have been the same TV program at the same volume he had heard it before when there hadn't been another sound for nearly a minute before, could it? It didn't make any sense.
With a slight spring to his step, Tier pulled himself away from the dumpster and smacked the lid of it back down in one quick motion, using the back of one hand to keep his shirt up. The smell of the area was dulled but it was still lingering, perhaps having gotten caught up inside of his clothes before he had decided on protecting his sense of smell. Ick, that meant those disgusting smelling germs and all were on him... shower time... Later.
"Hello?" a long shot but maybe some one was messing with him.
It is your duty.
Or not.
Not a soul was in sight and upon closer inspection of his building and the one next to it, not a one of the windows were open. What had he been thinking with that rationalization, anyway, it was far too cold to have them open! He was starting to really feel the effects of it now, shivering both out of apprehension and chill.
Ever the questioning soul, he opened his mouth again but was promptly interrupted before any words came out by a squeak which preceeded an incredibly shrill squeal.
Tier doubled back, nearly tripping over his long jean ends; a rat had dodged out from behind a few cans in the far corner. It looked as though it were growling at something, if rats could do such things, and then pounced back behind them as if it were ready to kill. The squeaks continued but it didn't sound like two rats fighting, only the one was screaming. Rats... that was a great way to start things in this place, finding out it has rats near it, if not in it.
A few seconds of quiet and the rat's tail became visible, then its rear, its body, it appeared to be dragging something and for a moment Tier got a mental flash of a carcass of some kind. The rat squealed again and practically bounced backwards as a flapping sound came from behind the cans. Was there a bird back there that it had been fighting with? Why wasn't there any squawking or chirps?
Keep him safe and bound to you.
That damn voice again, he was having enough of that. Tier tugged his shirt neck down and turned, trying to find it's origin to no avail, "That's enough! If you don't want me to hunt you down, just come out!" Idle threats were often met with violence from the opposing side and this was no exception. Just when Tier thought there was enough silence between him, the rat, the possible bird and the disembodied voice there was a hollow thud against his cheek that sent him sailing down towards the pavement. The immediate reaction was to hold his face tightly, a few curses slipping from his lips, but he quickly noticed some amount of weight atop his chest and feared it was the rat.
No, it was something... almost unearthly.
A large, grey egg sat atop him, rolled slightly onto its side; a dark purple substance seemed to be haloing around its bottom and tapering off into nothingness like a fine mist. At either side were small wings, unattached but flapping gently.
"What the... hell?" A pang of fear jolted through him and he cast a glance to the side of the alley--no sign of the rat. "...Was... was that voice talking about you?" How could he be sure? A disembodied voice talking to him about protecting something and then there was a rat... what the hell was going on? He'd never been into the paranormal or supernatural, not really, but did this qualify? What, was he just beamed down an alien egg or something?
Oh god...
It took him a few seconds to realize he had stopped breathing.
The egg, or whatever it was, seemed content sitting on him. Well, if that voice was to be believed, he doubted he was just instructed to protect that damn rat. Tier let out a light huff and cradled the egg with one arm, pushing himself to a stand with the other. "Okay... I guess... I can at least keep you out of danger," he mused aloud, pulling the bottom of his shirt up and over the egg. It definitely wasn't normal from its appearance alone, but the thing also carried a strange presence to it, almost strong enough to push past the rank stench of garbage.
It smelled like blood.
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Posted: Wed Dec 03, 2008 9:56 pm
[ G.r.o.w.t.h. xxxQ.u.e.s.t. ]
The smell of blood from Salem's egg has been getting stronger lately, strong enough to be smelt outside of the apartment anyway, and the neighbors are getting a little nervous about what's going on. With the fear of polive coming over and the house getting decimated, what should be done to get the smell out? Can the egg...be hatched?
((Prompt courtesy of Rown))
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2009 10:41 am
S T E N C H // It's just a gas leak Nearly a whole month had passed since the arrival of the strange egg. It was currently acting as a decoration on the coffee table in front of the couch; a stinky decoration, and rather gaudy, but it was better than nothing. He had no pictures to hang nor posters to tape up, so having at least one thing that added a bit of flavor was welcomed.
Still, it was like he was ashamed of it. Many times he had gone out on dates after he had situated himself comfortably in the apartments, but he refused to go back to his own and instead opted for a hotel or to go back to the woman's place. Maybe it was his own fault that the ends ended so pleasantly but he never heard word from them again. Oh well, it wasn't his biggest concern at the moment. No, that was currently staring him in the face.
Job applications.
It had taken him a bit longer than usual to grab them from various places; he was normally good about getting a job almost immediately as his necessary boxes were empty, but this apartment seemed to be bringing a lot of distractions with it. Like the egg, for instance. It stank. Reeked, really. Every morning he had to spray Febreeze around it and he felt compelled to wipe it down with Lysol very often. Only recently did he begin to notice a slight dulling in color, not that it was particularly vibrant to begin with. It just seemed... paler.
Today, he had finished those applications--he was going to hand them in. In total, there were fifteen; he had made a point to get several at the nearest mall, among other places. This was why he preferred the urban atmosphere, there were a lot more choices and opportunities. As usual, Tier spritzed around the egg, gave it a good wipe and spritzed the rest of the living room for good measure.
Everything was going smoothly.
"Oh, Tier," a woman from across the hall with short black hair addressed him with a hand wave as he stepped off the elevator, his mission for the day complete, "I thought you should know, your apartment, it's, um... well, it stinks."
"...What?" the way he responded was so blank, he just stood there in a slouch. His apartment stank? She hadn't even been inside, this Jennifer from three doors down, so how was she to know if his interior decorating fall flat? Too bad it did and she was right.
"There's a smell! It's really bad... people have been complaining all morning."
The hairs on the back of his neck stood abruptly, a shuddering chill running through his body as he felt his heart speed up. A smell? The one he had been trying to cover up? Blood.
A million scenarios flashed through his head, most of them containing a police investigation. How would he explain it? He found an egg out by the dumpster and, as many times as he had thought of throwing it out, he couldn't? No matter how much it stank, he just couldn't get rid of it? No, they would probably think he was hiding a body or something and rip the room apart. If only he were more legally inclined with his hobbies...
"I-I'll... I'll take care of it," he stuttered, which he was certain left Jen with a dumbfounded expression. Tier hurriedly pushed past her and practically leaped at his door, key at the ready. As soon as he was near his nose was assaulted by the sickening stench of drained life fluid and he felt his stomach flip, but there was no time for that. The fear of a police investigation was far too great. How loud he slammed the door behind him probably alerted many of his other neighbors, but he was determined.
That egg... If he couldn't convince himself to get rid of it, something else had to be done. Could he break it? No, that would be the same and what if there was something living inside of it, anyway? The wings moved!
He was frantic. There had to be something, anything. He needed time to think.
The nearest spray can of air freshener he had was whipped out and emptied all along the entryway. What he first needed to do was apologize to the neighbors and reassure them that the stink wasn't anything to be concerned about and it would be gone soon, but how? What excuse could do that?
Tier's gaze fell to his stove top. It was an older model gas stove, not a fancy electric one. The pilot light! Without a moment to spare he bolted out again, being sure to close the door quickly so none of the smell seeped out, and rushed down his hall explaining to every single person that was home that he had a faulty pilot light that gone out this morning, that was what the smell was, and he was taking care of it the best he could. Apologizing, he assured them that if all else failed, he would replace the stove.
Crisis temporarily averted.
For those that he was unable to contact, he wrote a note and stuck it to his door. Written in bold, black sharpie -- PILOT LIGHT OUT, I'M VERY SORRY FOR THE SMELL.
Now was the real trouble. It was fine and dandy for the people outside of his apartment, but the inside was filled with an eye watering stink of fresh blood and a limited supply of cleaning products. First thing was first: the egg had to be cleaned.
Donning two wash cloth gloves, Tier brought the egg over to the kitchen sink and plugged up the drain, setting it inside the basin. Letting the water run and pouring as much hand and dish soap in as he could, he was beginning to see that this egg was making him look like a germaphobe. This only caused him to scrub the egg more furiously.
Germaphobes weren't cute.
The matter of washing it took nearly a half hour out of his time. Only when he could just barely smell the blood by practically pressing his nose against the shell did he dry it off and set it back in its place. The next order of business was the residual stink; he had another can of Lysol and maybe half a bottle of Febreeze. Tier was either very fortunate or cursed due to the size of his apartment.
Spraying commenced immediately and he left no corner unturned, even going so far as getting out the sponge and cleaning the toilet, the sink, the fridge, everything he was able to clean at that moment was and beneath the tired exterior he was beginning to feel relieved. That nauseas feeling of worry was starting to taper off and as the blood smell was replaced with a lemony pine scent he almost felt he could relax.
But the egg.
That damn egg.
It was... peeling? He was correct on his previous observation, the color was indeed leaving the shell and it was becoming, quite literally, white as bone. Small flakes of the finest nature had begun to shed around it and there were a few more tiny cracks dotted about here and there.
"The chemicals..?" he muttered, lifting up and staring at the ingredients section of the bottle. There didn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary listed, but he wasn't particularly knowledgeable on the effects of the various chemicals contained therein on egg shells. As he set the container down and looked to the egg again, more cracks had appeared. They were beginning to spider every which way, starting from the sides.
A short curse left his lips and Tier was off, cradling the egg in his arms and carrying it to his bed. It would be a lot easier to clean off of the bed once it all broke away and it was also a lot more comfortable, he figured, for whatever was inside than a wooden table. With each bit splintering away there was a definite cracking sound, one similar to glass giving way to weight. Another thought occurred to him and he was out of the room in a second.
Towels.
In the frenzy of all that had happened up until this point, he had managed to forget where he put them only when he needed them the most. Whatever was in that egg was a baby and it was likely going to have some sort of fluid, wasn't it? He didn't know much about regular egg births to begin with, much less what was going on here. All the same, he figured the thought was nice and it was better to be safe than sorry.
Successfully procured, Tier and the towels rushed back to his room in the corner, the dim lighting of his curtained windows only serving to make this an even stranger sight. He had stopped dead. For a moment, he felt dizzy and leaned against the door frame to catch himself.
What sat at the bottom of the egg shell, pieces strewn about the covers and floor, wings and swirling, cloudy substance absent, was a child. A grey skinned, purple haired child, to be exact. He sat there, head tipped downward as he stared curiously at his hands. His hands. They had no skin, no muscle, they were just bones, but there he was, able to move his fingers all the same.
The towels had long since dropped from his hands. All he could do was stare, even as the child raised its head to look at him with vacant eyes. There didn't even seem to be any real life to them, they were black, completely. No.. pupils... white pupils dotted them, just barely. It was almost as if they were glowing.
For a long while, the child just stared. It looked to Tier, then its hands, and then Tier's hands, back again. This happened several times, very slowly, until it made a quiet whimper. Suddenly, it looked distraught and those red markings trailing from its eyes had clear, shining trails down them. Tears. It was crying?
That was what brought Tier back into reality. Leaving no time for himself to think, Tier snatched up the towels from the floor and walked over, not as fast as he had been for fear of scaring the poor thing even more then it already was. This grey, pointy-eared, skeleton-handed child that was born from a blood smelling egg... he was supposed to take care of it now. Be it's guardian.
It's parent.
Gently draping one of the towels around its shoulders, Tier quietly chooed and shushed him. The other towels was folded around him along the bed to make a small, warm enclosure. "It's okay," its crying didn't stop for the warmth of the towels, so he hoped it would for the warmth of something else. Slowly, experimentally, Tier brought his arms out and put them around the small body, holding it close, "You're okay."
The child hiccuped against him, sniffling and whining into his shoulder, its bone-hands clinging to the fabric of his shirt. He couldn't help but feel simultaneous pity and awe; this life that had just been released to the world, under his care. With a careful hand, Tier stroked the young child's purple hair. So vibrant, like his own.
"Don't cry..."
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Posted: Fri Jan 30, 2009 4:36 pm
 Y O U // Birth through the other's eyes Dark.
Why did it have to be so dark?
For such a long time, it was as dark as this.
Silent, too.
Nothing happening but a stream of conscious “why’s” that would never be answered.
Minutes, hours, days, weeks, there was no judging it; one second could have been a year and there would be no way to be sure.
The confined space was slowly shrinking more and more, a tighter trap than it had already been.
Suddenly, movement.
Voices.
Squealing.
More time elapsed of various lengths.
Why was nothing happening? Why had there been an event but no way to witness it? Why was it so dark and quiet again? Why were the walls thinning, burning?
Words flew by outside, none recognizable, while a fast scrubbing motion worked against the outside. Pressure, too much pressure. Whatever was going on past the thin, cracking walls, was surely going to break everything.
Wet, then dry. Hard, then soft.
Silence returned as light poured blindingly through cracks.
Small, bony fingers clutched at the surrounding cloth. Purple hair shook away pieces of shell. Tests were performed; moving arms, blinking eyes, touching, pinching. The fingers had no skin or muscle but could still feel, though considerably numbed in comparison to the rest of his form. The grayish skin ended just at the wrists, sewn shut around the bone.
A presence entered. The one who had been destroying the prison? His eyes dove to the bones and the young one matched. Back and forth, his hands to the man’s, his eyes trailed over and over again. They were so different. Which was right? It couldn’t be so that they were both natural, both normal. There had to be an answer but no matter how long or hard he looked, it continuously leaned toward this other person being the right one. While he had been trapped in the dark prison, the person standing dumbfounded in the door way had existed long before, it was so obvious.
So obvious…
His vision was blurring but he couldn’t do anything about it. The blue of the man’s hair eventually melded with the white of the outside room until his eyes couldn’t hold the leak any longer and the cold water dripped out. A few more droplets fell before the distance the man had between him was closed and he was kneeling before him. Something white was wrapped around him but it wasn’t confining like the prison and neither were the man’s arms. Tears continued to spill forth but it felt safer letting them get soaked up by the blue hair for some reason.
”You’re okay. Don’t cry…”
Crying. That’s what he was doing? And apparently it wasn’t good, if the man wanted him to stop. Well, it certainly didn’t feel good, but he wasn’t as frustrated as before. His fingers gripped the fabric of the man’s shirt and there was little motion between the two for another long while.
Eventually, the man pulled away and began examining, wiping at his own face from time to time, while the boy permitted. Fleshy fingers running over the bones, combing through violet strands of hair, brushing against the wet cheeks. Every new touch, he seemed more and more puzzled but he didn’t let it deter him. A sniffling sigh left him as he pulled back, keeping eye contact steady, and something broke the awkward calm of the situation; the corners of his mouth turned up, ”You’re probably cold…” His arms reached back and the boy was cradled, bone-fingers clinging tightly to the white towel wrapped around him.
The white of the outside room was shattered by a single red object that looked like it would be strangely comfortable. They passed it, taking a right and coming into a porcelain room with a yellow tinted light. After some physical negotiation, the man was able to bring a hand towards a strange object and turn it, bringing forth more of what leaked from his eyes just moments before, en mass. It was loud and splashed up at him, causing his head to bury against the man’s shoulder and a choked whimper to just barely break through the sound of crashing water. Moments later, it was off again and there was a shallow pool in the center of the white structure. Towel removed, he was placed in it and the man set himself on an equally white seat with a lid.
”Um.. So… You were in that egg?”
Confusion glossed the boy’s face.
”You came out of it… I… I don’t really know what you are but you’re my responsibility now, seems like. I’ll keep you safe…” leaning over, the blue haired man reached into the water and poured some over the boy’s hair, getting rid of any remaining egg shell or possible gunk, ”So I guess that means I’m… kind of like your dad.”
The boy watched as the man paled slightly but didn’t hesitate in continuing to wash him off. He averted his gaze when there was a moment of silence, turning to face the wall instead.
”If… I’m your dad then… you’re my son,” he continued mumbling aloud to himself but the boy wasn’t sure if the man was even aware any longer. His hands continued collecting and depositing water, nothing improper or uncomfortable, but it seemed to get clumsier the more he sat there talking to himself until his hands pulled back and rested against the edge of the container. ”That means you need a name.” Their eyes met again, his own half lidded with apprehension while the man’s were wide with uncertainty. ”You… You’re Salem. How does that sound?”
Salem.
”You… Salem…”
It sounded so good that his recitation of it caused the blue haired man to slip right off of the lidded seat.
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Posted: Fri Jan 30, 2009 5:25 pm
M U S I C // The strange sounds Silence.
He had said he was going to be right outside, maybe watch the picture box with the people in it, the “tee vee”. No such sounds were present. No rustling of cushions, no pitter pattering on the carpet and no sounds of cooking. Not a voice, not a murmur, not a sound.
Seconds ticked by like minutes in this world of silence. He had only been awake for a short while, his weary eyes aching and still drying from his fresh tears. The door had been left open, some light peaking through, though it was dim.
Very slowly, his eyes began to widen. Had Tier left somehow without him noticing? Was he gone and now all alone? That must have been why there was no noise, not even the sound of their neighbors living. Of course, it was late, too. Frantically, Salem raised his head and stared at the digital clock on the nearest bedside table, its glaring red numbers reading so foreign. How could Tier always tell exactly what time it was with this thing?
Whatever time it was, night had arrived and it was quite dark out. Perhaps Tier had just fallen asleep.
Ting!
A sudden sound, like something metal snapping,. Skeletal hands gripped the blanket so tightly his knuckles would have turned white if they were covered in skin. Instead, they creaked slightly, his hands shaking as he waited out the following silence for something else, something more.
Ting ting ting!
There it was again, more rapid this time. The sound was dulled somehow, maybe from one of the other rooms surrounding theirs? At least, Tier had said there were rooms around theirs, he couldn’t say for sure.
More frequently the sounds occurred, beginning to make odd patterns and sometimes strange pitches. Trembling violently, Salem pulled the covers over his purple haired head, clenching his eyes tightly shut. Whatever it was, it couldn’t get him. No, he was safe here and if not, he would be safer under the bed, right? It was so big, only someone his size could fit beneath it.
Oh, but what of Tier? What if that was the sound of some strange creature noshing on him! No, he was already gone and lost! Soft whines and whimpers forced their way out of his throat as he sobbed as quietly as he could, face scrunched up against the bed, sheets quickly getting stained by more tears.
As abruptly as it started, it stopped mid-sound, a dull clunk following and Tier’s voice, ”Dammit.” Salem stopped as well, freezing in place, eyes open and face frozen in confusion. Tier didn’t sound scared, nor in pain; he didn’t sound angry or sad, it was an off handed comment, whatever the word was, and his tone just seemed to carry a monotone annoyance to it, about something minor. A quiet squeak passed Salem’s lips and he slowly lifted his head, the sheet falling to his shoulders as he looked towards the door. He flinched as the sounds returned, but Tier’s voice accompanied it this time. ”No…” ting ting ting ”There we go,” and a relieved sigh before more of the sounds came, this time more fluid, fast and almost frantic with the occasional louder, more intense sound.
What was this? Some sort of monster Tier was taming? If Tier could control it, then maybe it was safe… Tier was safe, it should be too..
Waiting a few seconds longer, Salem shuffled close to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over the side, slowly lowering himself until his toes touched carpet before letting go of the mattress. Carefully, he trundled out the door, holding onto the frame and peeking from side to side. Nothing stirring in the kitchen nor at the front door, all of the doors but the bedroom one were closed tight and the sound didn’t appear to be coming from the bathroom, but towards the right.
Thin slices of light seeped out from behind the curtains hanging at the television’s back, still as death. Occasionally a shadow would cut across them, but then resituate to the shadows. Salem’s eyes were locked to this space, and if memory served, behind the curtains was a widow that opened like a door to a place that Tier had asked Salem never go to unless he was accompanying him.
A soft moan, sort of a hum, cut through the metallic tings as the shadow moved again. Salem’s entire body was shaking, he couldn’t help it. Everything was so terrifying without Tier right there to explain it to him.
Just as he gathered the courage to venture forward, the shadow took a huge shape, nearly taking up an entire section of the curtain, and Salem ducked back into the room, back slammed against the wall as his heart rate and breathing went through the roof. As he did so, a low volume pop sounded and then some faint, crackling static took to the air. The metallic clicking returned, amplified and with a far different sound than before, and through it he could hear laughter.
Cautiously, Salem peered out once more and the shadow was standing still, with three arms, one holding the other while the third resting on its belly. The outline of the head looked like Tier’s hair, and the humming coming from it sounded very much like the blue haired man, but Tier did not have three arms and he did not make staticy metallic tings! All logic dictated Salem to stay put and wait it out, whatever it was, but his heart was so tense; if Tier was in trouble with this three armed thing, then he had to at least try… What could he do without Tier?
Very carefully, Salem descended on all fours, feeling the dull brush of carpeting against his bone fingers. Eyes locked on the mighty shadow behind the curtain, he crept along the floor, keeping his stomach pressed down as far as he could, dragging himself along like a soldier. His belly was beginning to get warm and sting the further he went, but he was getting so close. As he rounded in front of the television, he curled up and waited, nearly hyperventilating. It was all so loud now, the thrums of the metal, and he was absolutely certain it was Tier’s voice mingling with it in a strange, frightening call.
Scrunching up his face and fighting back any tears, the young Ashe resumed his journey and pulled himself closer, just in front of the curtain. Fingers shaking as though he were in below zero weather, the boy took hold of a corner and pulled it over his head. What he saw caused his jaw to slack and his eyes to go wide in wonder: there was Tier, perfectly fine, standing with one leg propped up on an upturned chair with some strange contraption over his back and chest, his hands moving and one foot tapping. A long black cord snaked out from the bottom of the white thing, coiling up in front of a black box facing towards the rest of the city that also had a cord that lead to the wall.
All of these noises, these strange sounds, were coming from Tier himself. He wasn’t in danger, nor did he have anyone or anything else with him, but this strange object. As he got a look at it now, it clearly wasn’t alive-it appeared to be made of wood-but there it was, making sound with Tier’s help. One of Salem’s hands found its way towards the glass separating them, acting as a buffer for the sound, and the tips of his fingers tapped against the glass with a dull thunk just as a thrum ended.
Tier seemed to nearly jump out of his skin, causing Salem to jump and quickly retract his hand, eyes as wide as saucers as the two finally caught a glimpse of one another. For the brief moment that their eyes were locked, they both appeared to be in shock, but Tier was the first to calm down and offer the boy a smile. He hefted the noisy item off of himself and righted the chair, propping it against the wooden deck’s wall and setting the item in its seat before kneeling down to be near eye level with Salem and pulling the window-door open.
”I thought you were sleeping,” the man appeared calm as ever, keeping that smile on. It helped Salem calm enough to offer a response, however shaky it was.
”W-woke up…”
This caused Tier to frown, turning his eyebrows up in concern, ”Was it the noise?” Salem seemed at a loss and that was enough for the man to sigh, exasperated, turning to look at the black box with two cords, ”I didn’t think I had it that loud, I’m sorry.”
A squeak escaped Salem in reply, and the boy squirmed to a stand, shuffling over to Tier and gripping the front of his shirt, ”Th-thought was… s-scary thing.” The word ‘monster’ eluded him at that moment, but it spoke enough to Tier whose hand came to rest gently on the boy’s head, thumb giving it a gentle stroke.
”Nah, nothing scary or bad. I hadn’t gotten a chance to play around yet, and my bass was out of tune…” his eyes traveled to the instrument standing up straight in the white plastic chair.
Now that its front was visible, Salem could make out four strings, tied near the middle of the white bottom section and slowly creeping up its neck to wrap around four black prongs which lead to flat bits that seemed to turn. Beside the strings on the middle section, as well, was black line work, complex and tribal, but he couldn’t make out the shape.
”…Bass?” Salem parroted, looking from it back to Tier.
The man seemed unable to help himself, smiling down at the boy and giving a quiet chuckle before picking him up, cradling him with one arm as Salem wrapped his own around Tier’s neck and was carried towards the object. Once more, the he kneeled to allow Salem a better look at it all, even leaning forward so the boy could reach out and touch it if he liked.
”My good old Schechter Stiletto. Hasn’t steered me wrong yet,” he spoke fondly, raising his free hand and running it along the black marking, unmarred by strings.
Salem listened intently, though he understood nothing. His eyes were locked on Tier’s pale hand running across the polished and painted wood of the instrument before he slowly reached over and began strumming at a string, the thickest one, and the low sound came from both the bass and the black box stationed in the far corner, causing Salem’s fingers to grip into Tier’s shirt.
As soon as he felt the bone fingers dig into the fabric, Tier stopped and let the string calm itself, vibrating into silence. ”It’s okay, Salem. It’s music. Music’s a good thing. I actually spend a lot of my time making—or, well, playing music. I haven’t made any of my own yet outside of messing around.”
Music.
The word itself sounded unthreatening, almost carrying a calm feeling with it. With Tier saying it was a good thing, Salem relaxed and eyed the box, now with curiosity rather than fear, ”That?” he pointed over to it, waiting for Tier to look before his hands returned to his neck.
”That helps me. It makes the music louder,” Tier said matter-of-factly, turning back to the bass and removing the cord from its plug. He let it fall haphazardly into the seat beside the instrument and returned his free hand to the strings, plucking at them lightly. There was no low thrum, just the light tings he had first heard. Hearing them now, they were so quiet, it was a wonder how the sound had managed to travel through the glass and all the way to the opposite end of the apartment to his small, pointed ears.
As Tier plucked away, something of a smile came across Salem’s features. He tilted his head, eyes locked on Tier’s fingers as they moved with practiced ease, even if he wasn’t holding the bass properly at that moment. ”Music,” he repeated, confirming his appreciation of the word’s sound and gave an accepting nod.
Music was not a scary beast.
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Posted: Thu Apr 16, 2009 11:45 pm
Tier takes Salem out on the town to let him buy some clothes for himself when they run into Faustus in the snow.
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Posted: Thu Apr 16, 2009 11:48 pm
On their way home, Tier and Salem run into a couple of thugs and another Ashe, this time with a guardian.
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Posted: Sun Apr 19, 2009 10:37 pm
A days worth of interviews await the blue haired man while his young charge is sent to stay with surprising acquaintances.
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Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2009 5:59 pm
W A R M W E A T H E R // How do we hide now? ”Aw, shi-…crap…”
A man’s voice spoke in the background, detailing various numbers, percentages and other things; the weather conditions of today and the coming week. What had been said just before Tier’s outburst, Salem caught, was “Today, eighty-five degrees, sunny with ninety percent humidity.” It was a monotone voice, almost robotic, and as Salem opened his eyes he saw there was no one on the picture box, just a blue background with various panels of numbers and an image of a sun, unblocked by clouds three panels in a row.
Salem raised his head from the soft red sofa, tired eyes barely open as he began to inquire what it all meant, only to realize he was uncomfortably warm. Letting out a grumble of distaste, the child slowly squirmed out from under a blanket, shoving it off of his feet and sprawling out on his back, closing his eyes again and letting out a huff of air.
Tier let out a grumble, himself, tugging at his blue hair with one hand, ”Now what…” Gnawing on his lip, he turned back to look at Salem who also didn’t seem to appreciate the heat. A low churn within the walls told him that the heat was being turned off through the building, but whether or not the air conditioning would come on was another story.
A heaving sigh left the blue haired man as he stood shirtless in the middle of the room, hands resting on his hips in agitation. ”I don’t know how we’re gonna get around now,” he said bluntly, causing Salem’s eyes to open.
The young boy saw the problem was well as Tier did; the Winter weather made bundling up easy, layers upon layers could hide his wretched form from the world, but now with the weather like this, he didn’t even feel up to wearing his current clothing and was tugging up his shirt to cool off his midriff. ”They’ll scream…” His “child”s bluntness rivaled his own.
”They’ll be confused,” Tier corrected him, staring at the boy with concern.
They had had this discussion once before; if Tier mentioned that he didn’t scream when he first saw Salem, the boy would simply retort with ”You’re different.” The same would go for Tsuji and Huan Yi, though the response was ”They didn’t see all of me.” Still, there was no convincing the child and Tier felt disheartened every time Salem made a comment against himself, as though he was failing the boy.
Another sigh and Tier planted himself on the opposite end of the couch to Salem. Normally he would cuddle with the boy, but it was just too uncomfortable for that right now, so he hoped his mere presence would be suitable enough. ”There’s got to be some way…”
Salem closed his eyes again, giving a near silent whimper, ”I didn’t want to go out today anyway…” This made Tier frown, eyebrows knitting together at his nose as he had a staring contest with the floor. Head propped up with one hand resting on his knee, he was leaned to the side, crooked, and announcing his displeasure at the situation with more scoffs and sighs than Salem could count.
After several minutes of this, Tier leaned forward, his head practically between his knees as he ruffled and tugged at his hair in frustration. ”Screw this weather,” he stood, quickly making his way to the door leading to the deck and opened it, leaving the screen. Immediately, the curtains rustled and a blast of cool air wafted through. As soon as it hit his skin, Tier uttered a groan of relief and Salem offered a smile to the ceiling as he relaxed into the wind.
”Ahh… Hah, I think I just thought of something,” Tier muttered, the gust of cool air making everything better, ”Can you stay here by yourself for a little while? I won’t be long at all, I promise. I need to pick up a few things from the store for you. Small things, but they’ll help.”
Opening one eye, Salem peeked over at his “father” as he looked quite proud of whatever scheme he had concocted. His eyebrows rose in concern, uncertainty swimming all around him, but Tier seemed so sure, so positive. ”Yes,” he could do it if Tier thought he could.
In a flurry of motion, Tier rushed to the bedroom and rifled through his drawers, picking out a thin white undershirt and a pair of socks, as well as grabbing his shoes from the corner of the floor. Settling back on the couch, he pulled the shirt over his head and began on his feet, pulling on the socks and the accompanying sneakers, tying them up in a hurry. ”I’ll run both ways, so I’ll be back really fast,” he assured the boy, which granted him a weak smile of acceptance.
If Tier said he would be fast, he wouldn’t have long to wait, and so Salem relaxed back as he heard the man get up and close the door, the soft click of the lock making him feel all the more safe.
With the help of the breeze and the sound of rustling leaves on the trees outside, it was easy for Salem to fall back to sleep. After what seemed like only a few minutes, Tier was back as he had said, one hand gently holding Salem’s shoulder and rustling him awake. The boy cooed in response, rolling and stretching before sitting himself up and looking at the man.
Laid out on the coffee table in front of them were all sorts of small containers; creams, powders, he wasn’t sure what to make of it all. Another pair of sunglasses, as well, different this time with reflective lenses so you couldn’t see through them while looking at the fronts at all as well as a small grey hoody. The last one, Salem questioned, and he quirked an eyebrow at Tier.
”The material’s really light and thin, you won’t overheat in it and we still need to hide your hair and ears,” he said, picking up a hand to tousle the boy’s bangs, ”But the rest of it… I think I can hide your skin. Maybe.” He didn’t sound completely sure, but Salem was eager about it, shuffling over to sit beside Tier and stare closely at all of the items.
A brush here, a puff there; time was ticking away today and everything Tier did was tickling Salem’s face some how, but he allowed him to continue. After what seemed like ages, Tier finally stopped and said ”Okay,” before leading Salem to the bathroom. Gently, he was hoisted up and leveled with the mirror, but there wasn’t a reflection of him on the other side, it was someone else, a pasty, pale young boy with some slight pink to his cheeks and around his eyes.
Silence lingered between the two as Salem’s white pupils dodged around, examining the odd, altered features. ”Me?” he pondered aloud, squinting at the reflection before him.
”You,” Tier confirmed, giving the boy a smile and a peck on the head.
”We can go outside.”
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Posted: Mon Aug 24, 2009 2:55 pm
Tier and Salem's first trip to the grocery store together is turned into an adventure when an Ashe Egg announces its presence.
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