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 Posted: Mon Nov 10, 2008 7:50 pm
[1] page 2 navigation
[2] leaving the reservation [SRP 1]
[3] on the plane [SRP 2]
[4] survive the day: canaan vs norman vs scyeth [IRP/Entry 1]
[5] falling for a native: canaan vs micajah [PRP 1/Entry 2]
[6] behind closed doors: canaan vs bronte [PRP 2/Entry 3]
[7] memo delivery: canaan vs kenth vs alex [QRP 1/Entry 4]
[8] study of the human body: canaan vs micajah [CRP 1/Entry 5]
[9] of status and sticks: canaan vs scyeth [PRP 3/Entry 6]
[10] solstice party [ORP 1/Entry 7]
[11] cunning and craving : canaan vs wynn [PRP 4/Entry 8]
[12] history of planet earth: canaan vs bronte [CRP 2/Entry 9]
[13] introduction to science and technology: canaan vs micajah [CRP 3/Entry 10]
[14] i fall to pieces: canaan vs micajah [PRP 5/Entry 11]
[15] under my skin: canaan vs micajah [PRP 6/Entry 12]
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Posted: Mon Nov 10, 2008 7:52 pm
Leaving the Reservation
Canaan was behind the small, beat-up house, laid out under the body of his uncle's old truck, when the white men came. They came the front way, instead of sneaking up like they'd often done in years past, and Grandmother Cherokee had seen them coming down the long dirt road ten minutes prior. She had brought out an cool pitcher of tea and three glasses, setting the tray on a the small table. Now she sat in her rocking chair on the rickity front porch, appearing completely relaxed as she crocheted.
She wasn't. Her home was one of the most remote in the entire reservation, but she often went with Canaan to the small 'center' of things, where they got goods and he made arrangements to repair things for mostly barter rather than cash. Grandmother Cherokee had heard of the recent raids, of children once again being separated from parents. It wasn't as bad as when she was a little girl, when they would simply give the native child to white parents. No, it was still illegal to do that, thank the spirits.
Instead, they temporarily took them away, if you wouldn't sign a contract to put them in school. She scowled. Canaan didn't need such infantile things. The children in those schools were soft, useless.
Her frown disappeared as three men exited a black and shiny state vehicle, the two younger men in police uniform sweating profusely. The older man they flanked was in a loose, white button-up and seemed relatively cool, a cap on his head. She knew him. Thomas McGreggor. A good, honest man. One of the few white men and government officials that had a good reputation with the tribe.
Pouring tea slowly into the glasses, she ignored the two uncomfortable young men, concentrating on McGreggor himself. "Thom," She gestured to the wicker chair beside her. "Sit, have a drink." The tall man accepted the beverage but didn't sit. The furrow between her brows deepened slightly.
"I'm sorry t'say I'm here on business, Miss Cherokee." He shook his head, his dark brown hair only just beginning to grey. "Y'know why I've brought th'boys." He gestured to the stiffs behind him, who were staring longingly at the tea Cherokee and Thom both drank. "We don' want any trouble, ma'am."
Her chuckle was throaty and she waved one bony hand at him. "Trouble? From little ol' Miss Cherokee?"
Thom's look was measured, but slightly amused. "I know yer handy with a gun, ma'am," The laughter disappeared as his brown eyes shifted suddenly. "But I wasn' rightly talkin' about you."
She didn't need to look to know that Canaan had heard the voices. The strong teen had come in the back door of the house and exited the front, a heavy wrench in his left hand and a dark look on his face.
One of the uniforms behind McGreggor stepped forward quickly, but the older man stopped him with a hand. "Now, now, let's settle this'un like civilized sorts, ya'll." His eyes met Cane's. "Boy, you've known fer years we were gonna have t'come fer ya. You got a few more'n most, due to th'war. You 'n yer grandmama know I don' wanna do this."
Canaan's hand tightened around the wrench, his muscles tight, ready. He didn't want to leave the old woman. They were all each other had and he was as loyal as a dog. "Grandmother?" If she said the word...
Cherokee's blue eyes met McGreggor's open, brown gaze. "Miss Cherokee, nothing bad'll happen to your boy. I wrote personally to a special school. Remember that'un in the news? They'll take 'im. He's got talent, we all know it. Don' let it waste here, ma'am."
The silence was long and tense, and when Grandmother Cherokee spoke, her face was guarded. "Let th' boy finish his tea."
---
McGreggor came back to take Canaan early the next morning, sending him to the first school he would ever enroll in.
Shinkami School of Saviors.
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Posted: Mon Nov 10, 2008 7:54 pm
On the Plane
Canaan didn't like flying. The loud noises of the plane and chatter of the mostly Caucasian passengers felt unnatural and had made him ill at ease. The boy had sat bolt upright in his jeans and leather jacket, tense, a severe frown on his face, for several hours before he and Thomas McGreggor, the sheriff who'd taken him from the Reservation, had finally transferred to a smaller, private plane heading directly to the school. There were a few other kids and their accompanying adults on the plane, but they were all spaced out, and he didn't join in any of their conversations, instead looking darkly at the seat in front of him.
McGreggor, who had stopped attempting to chat to him after their first hour of flight when all Canaan had done was ignore him or grunt in response, finally spoke again, seeking to soothe the boy as they neared their destination. "'Ey, brigh'en up, eh? You'll see yer granmama 'gain soon, boy." Cane's blazing blue eyes locked onto the older male's face, rage briefly sparking into existence in their depths. The man's jaw went slack in surprise.
"Y'dunno tha', y'damn liar." His voice was quiet, heated, and he immediately turned away, hand sliding up to pull an object from under his white tank-top as he stared out the window. It felt familiar to his fingertips, comforting. Like home. The leather dream catcher hung around his neck at all times, constantly reminding him of who he was, his heritage, his family. Cane's grandmother had given it to him the day he had come to live with her.
"C'mere 'n lemme get a good look at you, boy." The serious three-year-old was nudged forward by his mother, his blue-eyes staring up at the old woman scowling down at him. Cherokee Kreery examined him, quickly, making him open his mouth to get a look at what teeth he'd already grown in, feeling his small arms and legs, looking deep into his eyes. She then looked up at his mother, Lynette, and nodded to her. "He's gonna be a strong 'un, 'n not obnoxious like Thorin's other'uns. I'll take him."
Lynette had never meant to get pregnant, and she breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that her son would be with good, capable family when she left for the city and her ambition in the morning. Canaan didn't want to be afraid, but he couldn't help it. His small, strong hand reached out to grab not his mother, but Cherokee's skirt, and the grandmother softened visibly, before her scowl slid back into place. But Cane saw it, and knew he was safe.
Squatting, Grandmother Cherokee brushed his black bangs from his eyes, reaching into her pocket and showing him the object now in her palm. It was a tiny dream catcher, obviously handmade. Cane was serious, but still a little boy, and a gasp of pleasure came from his small body. Cherokee chuckled and tied it around his neck, tapping his chest. He would have to resize the leather tie as he grew, she knew.
"You carry this with ya, boy. It'll hold yer dreams, yer hopes, yer past and future. It'll hold our bond, th' bond of our people and of you 'n I. As lon' as you wear this, you'll 'ave th' protection of our nation." Canaan was too young to understand, but she knew he would remember. "Now, fergit yer mama, 'n come an' watch this here television with me. I'll teach ya a thing 'r two 'bout history. I bet yer education is sorely lacking."
The old woman led her grandson to the livingroom, where she began to teach him about oppression and his place in the world. Norman Prinwaltz's voice rang throughout the house as his image flickered on the TV's screen and Cane grew to trust Cherokee and love her like no other. She had raised at least fourteen children before him, but Cane was her last and her favorite. They had a bond, the two of them, and as she grew older, more frail, he took care of her. She had been firm yet loving, honest and moral and still laconic, traditional but open, and Cherokee shaped her grandson in her image.
His guardian. His rolemodel. The only person the young teen loved and now they were separated.
McGreggor sighed. "This school'll be a good thin' fer ya, boy." Grunting, Canaan reached over to shut the window shade next to his seat with an irritable flick of his fingertips and closed his eyes. They would be landing soon.
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Posted: Mon Nov 10, 2008 11:48 pm
Survive the Day: Canaan vs Norman vs Scyeth
Canaan's blade was quick and skilled as it sliced of small slivers of wood from the chunk he'd started out with. Redwood, from his home. He had a bag full of it, and he breathed deep, enjoying the familiar scent. The trees here were very different. In fact, there was no where like home. It was his first day here, and he had a lot to think about. Cane would take his time.
The first people he had officially met... Headmaster Norman Prinwaltz, and Science Student and Soldier-in-Training, Scyeth Akazar. The first had been friendly, polite, and had left all-too-quickly. Canaan would have to meet him again.
The latter? Very much a teenage boy. Cocky, arrogant, and territorial. But interesting. He seemed like a nice guy, under it, although extremely protective of his position in the school. Cane would have fun with him.
The short native smiled slightly, glancing over at his roommate, who was already asleep, headphones in his ears. He'd get to him later.
Cane set the half-finished carving down on his bedside table, and got up to get a drink of water.
It was very strange here, and he lacked the same skill set that others had. However, he had his own advantages. Strength. Mechanical Know-how, a connection with the spirits and nature, and strong observational skills. Canaan hadn't wanted to leave his people, but he did want to learn. So that was what he would do.
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Posted: Mon Nov 10, 2008 11:49 pm
Falling for a Native: Canaan vs Micajah
Canaan lay on his bed, back to mattress, his arms folded behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling lost in thought. He'd had an eventful day. He'd met the headmaster, Scyeth, Micajah, and Bronte, all in one long day.
Micajah. The interesting white boy. Fragile looking, in his wheelchair. Of course, he couldn't have been too fragile, considering that he was alive. Still. Pale skin, pale hair, pale eyes... Interesting. Still, he was not like other white men that Cane had met. Most of them weren't. Was it because they were so young? Perhaps.
Cane always listened to his intuition. It was telling him that he would see that pale boy soon, and that it was a good thing, too. Smiling slightly, the tan boy wondered what his grandmother would've had to say about all this.
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Posted: Thu Nov 20, 2008 12:30 pm
Behind Closed Doors: Canaan vs Bronte
In the shower, Cane soaped his body, a slight frown on his face as he considered the encounter just moments prior. Bronte, his roommate, was a perky, odd fellow. Very friendly, nice, but he seemed slightly anti-social [one couldn't say Cane was 'friendly' or 'social', but that was beside the point], and his interactions with others would be something to note in the future. Still, they had both agreed to keep the peace, and seemed to have a few things in common.
Not musical taste, but... that wasn't surprising.
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Posted: Sat Nov 22, 2008 1:50 pm
The Memo: Canaan vs Kenth vs Alex
The stocky native american stared at the note in his large hands, back firmly against the wall where he sat on his bunk. Only twenty minutes prior, he'd been summoned to Doctor Kenth's office. This was curious for two reasons. One, he'd never met the man before, and two, he'd been personally selected. Why? He hadn't been told, however, he could deduce that Kenth knew he had been helping Micajah in the hospital.
He'd been instructed to deliver a memo, with strict directions, and told that it would affect his overal grades if he failed. The memo was to an Alexis Falcone, in the science department.
Cane didn't exactly mind. He'd been doing errands since he could walk, and he needed to meet more science personnel.
Unfortunately, he'd gone directly to her office, and the woman hadn't been in. The boy would have to try again later in the week.
Odd, though, that Doctor Kenth was having such a note delivered, rather than simply speaking with the woman. Perhaps the reason would become clear, later.
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Posted: Tue Nov 25, 2008 10:09 pm
Study of the Human Body: Canaan vs Micajah
A pool. To Canaan, it wasn't as nice as a lake, or river, or something out in the hot sun, but it was still water. He could still slice through it with his arms and strength, settling into a familiar rhythmn as he pondered his life. Classes here were hard, but interesting.
Micajah.
The blonde who was helping him study, that Cane had met is very first day. A smile was on the native's face as he continued his laps. He was very cute, and so unsure. Was there something there? Time would tell.
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Posted: Fri Dec 12, 2008 4:11 pm
Of Status and Sticks: Canaan vs Scyeth
Canaan and Scyeth seemed to be working out an understanding. Or, rather, that's how it appeared to the native as he ran through exercises in the empty gym. As he went through push-up repitions, the teen went over a mental check-list in his mind for their coming-of-age ritual. It would be awhile yet before they were ready, but still, soon enough.
Scyeth was fierce, but he lacked the steady confidence that Cane had. Together, they would be unstoppable.
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Posted: Thu Dec 18, 2008 2:32 pm
Solstice Party
Canaan liked people, yes, but he didn't particularly like gatherings of people he didn't know or trust. The boy had spent hours getting Scyeth's party ready, however he left the party early.
Sighing, the boy stretched out on his bed, frowning at the ceiling. He'd wanted Micajah to be here tonight. The blonde had been acting weird. Avoiding him. Sending him to 'get to know' other people. Were Cane's advances unwanted?
He'd just have to wait and see. The boy had gone home to visit his... family.
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Posted: Fri Jan 02, 2009 8:08 pm
Cunning and Craving: Canaan vs Wynn
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Posted: Fri Jan 02, 2009 8:08 pm
History of Planet Earth: Canaan vs Bronte
The short, stocky native sat in his room, reading over his notes on the lesson he'd just returned from, with Bronte. The other boy probably wouldn't be back until late afternoon, so Cane had some time alone. They'd had a very interesting class that day. History. They'd traded opinions, hopes, ideas for the future.
Cane was liking his roommate more and more.
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Posted: Sun Jan 11, 2009 8:53 pm
Introduction to Science and Technology: Canaan vs Micajah
Cane scowled darkly at the notebook in front of him, a leatherbound one he'd reluctantly brought from home. A journal. Hesitantly, his ballpoint pen touched the paper, made a line. A letter. A word. A sentence.
I like Mica.
Good, good. Cane was both frustrated and proud of himself. The writing was still scribbly, elegant almost, absent-minded, all captial letters, but it was legible and spelled correctly.
Hearing the door knob turn, Canaan quickly shut the notebook, pulling his tablet over it to go back to his lesson. It wasn't the confession that he was embarassed about, it was his trouble writing it.
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Posted: Sun Jan 11, 2009 8:54 pm
I Fall to Pieces: Canaan vs Micajah
The hot water felt good against his skin and Canaan tilted his head back to let it hit his face, a strong palm pressed against the wall tile of the shower to support his weight. He'd just gotten back from practice with Scyeth, and needed to clean off. The teen was familiar with the feeling of his own wet skin and even enjoyed the sensation as he let his thoughts wander.
Micajah and his timid mouth. They'd kissed, and the blonde had definitely responding. This was good, very good. Cane had a think for Mica, and he could tell it was different than his general lusty feelings. Of course, those feelings were still present.
A grunt was pulled from the tan male's throat and he instantly relaxed, letting the water rush over him as he panted and considered what to do with the rest of his night.
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Posted: Sun Jan 11, 2009 8:55 pm
Under My Skin: Canaan vs Micajah
Cane carefully rubbed the healing ointment he'd recieved from the tattoo parlor onto his chest, grinning as he thought about the day, looking at himself in his bathroom mirror. He and Micajah seemed to always have a good time together now that they were... What was the word Mica used...? Dating, yes.
He was proud to have his totem tattoos now, and he would be getting more after his man journey. First, though, they needed to heal so he could send a picture home, along with notification of his promotion. Grandmother Cherokee would be pleased.
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