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 Posted: Fri Dec 19, 2008 2:04 am
[second chances]
Bernard Julius North set down his broom and dustpan and leaned backwards, stretching his back. He was about halfway through his daily cleaning regimen of dusting, sweeping, polishing, and rearranging the store. He'd been to several other antique shops, and most of them were stuffed to the brim with random merchandise that was dusty, rusty, and painfully disorganized. While he admitted those shops had a certain charm to them, he refused to let his fall into disrepair. Besides, maniacally cleaning gave him something to do. This old soldier wasn't ready for a sedentary lifestyle yet.
Of course, he mused, teaching Ennea was full of adventures. It had taken some doing, but he had finally convinced her to go out on her own that day. Shortly after taking the strange creature in, Bernard decided to try to find her family. Of course, that required knowing what she was. She appeared to be some sort of mythical or holy being, so most of his research went into those fields. One result, an organization called Seven of Seven, looked promising. They appeared to be doing research with angels and other beings; perhaps their scientists would be able to figure out what Ennea was. And they had numbers for a name, which made Bernard like the company already. As quickly as possible, he made an appointment for her to see them.
Bernard chuckled to himself as he recollected sending her off that day. She hadn't wanted to go of course, and had begged him to come with her. But Bernard had a delivery to wait for. They had gone over basic map-reading last week, and he had marked her course in bright pink on a map of the area. He'd even pinned a note to her shirt, in case she got lost and couldn't remember how to ask for directions. And there was another note in her pocket, for the people at the facility. It was almost like sending a child off to market for the first time.
Sighing wistfully, Bernard set his broom aside just as there was a noise from the back of the house. There were only three keys to that door, one being his. Since his sister was in another world, Bernard decided it must be Ennea, but it was too soon for her to be back. Perhaps she lost her nerve and turned around without going inside. Reaching for his cane, Bernard started for the kitchen. "Ennea? Why are you back already?"
Ennea shut the door behind her and shuffled into the center of the kitchen. She purposely kept her back to the doors that led to the shop. Part of Bernard's assumptions were true, she had lost her nerve. But there was, of course, more to it than that. Her voice froze in her throat. Even with a vocabulary less limited than her own, she would not have been able to explain.
"Ennea, answer me!" Bernard pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen, and paused there. That was definitely Ennea, but what was she wearing? At first it appeared as though she had donned an enormous pink and red boa. Then, as he looked again, he decided that it was more of a boa constrictor. "Is that a snake?" he asked, horrified. "What happened?"
"Don't know don't know," Ennea spluttered, knowing she had to say something. One thing she had learned was that Bernard preferred her to say something, anything, to silence. "People give to me. Say I have to take. Make me write name, then leave." She slowly turned around, terrified that this time, he would be really angry with her.
As Ennea turned, Bernard could see that he was maybe half right. The long tail he'd seen was quite reptilian in nature. But instead of a head, there was a torso of a small child, with unruly light blue hair and pointed ears. There was a strange metallic ornament framing his face, and his green slitted eyes stared at Bernard unblinkingly. He was holding Ennea's arms tightly, letting the rest of his body drape over her shoulders and giving the impression of a scarf.
It took Bernard a full sixty seconds to take in the scene before him. The hand holding his cane began to shake violently, and it was only when he noticed this that he began to make himself calm down. "Come, sit down," he ordered, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Tell me what happened as best you can. Start at the beginning. Go slowly."
Trembling herself, Ennea nodded slowly and uncoiled the boy's tail from around her body. He continued to hold onto her arms, but let her work. When she finally was able to sit at the table, she held him in her lap, the long tail wrapping around her legs and resting on the floor. She wasn't sure she liked feeling so bound, but something told her that he was as scared as the rest of them, so she tried not to worry about it.
"I follow directions. Only make one mistake. Fix it. I get to building... Seven of Seven." She pronounced the words carefully, knowing that they are numbers, and that Bernard is especially fond of numbers. "Person meet me. Say I have to take... something. Lots of men there... guards? Man say I have to write name. Give me this person, make me leave. I scared. Come right home." As she spoke, Ennea never looked Bernard in the eye. She did, however, look at the child a couple of times. He stared at her almost constantly, and she quickly looked away.
Bernard stroked his beard in thought. "Clearly I did not research this organization enough, if they force children to go with strangers," he said angrily. "I would call it kidnapping, but it's really the reverse." He would have to call on them shortly, to see what could be done. "What did they make you sign?"
Ennea was already on it, pulling out a folded bit of paper. She passed it to Bernard silently, now trying to avoid looking at the paper as well. With so few places that were safe to cast her eyes on, she decided to close them for the time being.
The top sheet of paper was the note Bernard himself had written, he noted with disgust. They probably didn't even read it. The sheets underneath appeared to be some kind of legal contract. Of course, Ennea wouldn't have read it. Bernard wondered if that was part of their plan.
If so, it appeared to be a pretty strange contract. All that was expected of her was to take care of the child. It appeared like she would even receive some compensation for it. Not a bad deal, if she had asked for it. But she wouldn't even be able to understand what was going on, or to take care of anyone. She could barely speak, and they hadn't even started on reading or writing yet. She still needed help buttoning clothes and tying shoes. How could she take care of a child?
As for him... no, Bernard thought firmly. I am in no shape to be raising children! Ennea is not a child, for all her lack of knowledge. But this one is, and neither of us is capable of taking care of him. I am too old, and her mind is far too young.
And yet, in his mind, he could see a pair of children waving through a fogged window. He'd hand a chance before, and wasted it. Maybe this was fate, or some sort of karmic payback. Or maybe it was for Ennea. Learning was often easier when you could display your progress by teaching another. Maybe they would teach each other.
He looked at the child, who had finally stopped staring at Ennea and started playing with the drawstring on her shirt. Then, out of nowhere, he stopped and looked at Bernard. His gaze was defiant; if Bernard didn't know any better, he'd say that the boy (it had to be a boy) was daring him to kick him out.
"You must understand, Ennea," Bernard began, "you have undertaken a responsibility." Her face was blank; the words he was using were too difficult. "This child- a small person is a child. This child is yours. The way I take care of you, you have to take care of him, teach him. Do you understand me?"
Ennea nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again. It was her way of signaling partial comprehension. She understood that she had to help him. But responsibility wasn't a concept she fully grasped yet.
This wasn't the ideal situation, but Bernard accepted it. After all, how hard could raising one child be? Ennea was usually a pleasure, if a bit frustrating at times. "Does he have a name?"
A name? Ennea knew what that was, it was something you called a person. She was Ennea. Bernard was Bernard, or sometimes Icosa. The small person- child, she reminded herself, fixing the word in her memory- did not tell her a name, and if the people at the building did, she couldn't remember. So no. She shook her head.
That was almost exciting to hear. It had been fun to name Ennea; Bernard had settled on it when he saw the calendar; she had appeared on the ninth of September. But what could he use for this one? This was the eleventh day of the twelfth month, but neither hendeka nor duodeka felt right. Maybe they were not the right numbers, then, and maybe Greek not the language.
As if he knew that Bernard was thinking about him, the child finally squirmed his way out of Ennea's lap. He slid to the floor, perching on the end of his tail. It seemed he had no trouble with slithering, and was trying to climb Bernard's chair within a matter of seconds. The end of his tail fell behind him, stretching out easily more than twice as long as the rest of him.
How many children did she bring home? Bernard thought in a bout of humor and desperation. One or two? And then, he had it. It was so simple. He was easily twice the size of most children. Well, maybe one and a half, but sesqui didn't sound good. Nor did duo, he had to admit. Or twa, or deux, or tik, or kaks, or- of course! "Zwei," Bernard proclaimed, pronouncing the German word with a flawless accent. "Zwei. Dual. It fits," he declared. And so it did, in more ways than he was aware of.
"Zwei," Ennea parroted, mangling the pronunciation. But she smiled shyly at Bernard, and was rewarded with his own awkward grin. "Zwei!" she repeated, getting up and picking him up again, then putting him back on her lap as she sat back down. "Ennea," she said, placing her hand on her chest. Then, she put that same hand on his arm. "Zwei."
Feeling a little left out, Bernard gestured to himself with his own hand. "Icosa," he said. If they were both numbers, he certainly wasn't going to be left out.
The boy, Zwei, yanked on the drawstring on Ennea's shirt. He spoke so softly that Bernard didn't hear. But Ennea did. "'Nnea."
"Yes." Ennea squeezed Zwei's shoulders. "Ennea teach Zwei."
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Posted: Sun Dec 28, 2008 1:41 am
[in fashion]
When Bernard had found her, he had given Ennea one of three bedrooms in the upstairs of his house. When she had come home with Zwei, he had given the boy the room next to Ennea's, presumably so she could check in on him. Ennea constantly did so, usually bringing whatever she was learning that day with her. Her books were generally a few years too old for Zwei, but she noticed with pleasure that the difficulty didn't stop him from being interested. That made her work all that much harder, so she could keep having things to teach him.
That day, she brought over not only her books, but various articles of clothing that Bernard had given her. There was a worn white shirt with faintly puffed sleeves, a pair of patched pants, a pleated skirt, a terrycloth bathrobe, an enormous brown leather jacket, and an assortment of scarves, gloves, hats, and a pair of fuzzy blue earmuffs.
Without so much as knocking, Ennea pushed the door open with her tail. "Zwei," she chirped cheerily, "learn time!"
There was a small bed for Zwei in the room, and a closet, and a desk for when he was older, and a beanbag chair. The chair was easily his favorite part, and he was usually coiled in it with a picture book. That day was a new one Icosa had checked out of the library for him, called The Cat in the Hat. Ennea had showed him pictures of cats before, but never one in a hat. And this cat got into all sorts of trouble, or so Icosa said when he read it. Zwei wasn't sure he liked that cat.
For a moment, he frowned as Ennea dumped her armload on the floor in front of him. Then the frown vanished, replaced by his usual blank expression. Even though he had only been there a few days, he had quickly fallen into her routine. There was little else for him to do. Icosa would read to him, Ennea would try to teach him things, and he'd spend time alone. That was that.
Blissfully unaware of Zwei's grumpy thoughts, Ennea set the book next to the clothes. It was a book all about clothing, identifying the names of garments and where they were to be worn. Ennea knew how to dress herself, more or less, but she had noticed that while she and Bernard had to wear clothes, so far Zwei didn't. That was because he didn't know how, she decided. So that was the lesson she had planned.
Flipping open the cover, Ennea announced "cl-clothing. Today is clothing." Then, she turned the page, and revealed a picture of a shirt. "S-sh-shirt," she sounded out carefully, turning the book so it faced Zwei. Then she pointed to the pile of clothing "Find shirt."
Zwei stared unblinkingly for a moment, then started to study the picture. It was of a garment that was sort of square-shaped (they had gone over shapes a few days before) with a squiggly line on each side. He then looked up at Ennea. She was wearing a white, button-down shirt with a starched collar. The shirt in the pile was white as well, which made it quite easy for Zwei to pick it out.
"Good!" Ennea clapped her hands, taking the shirt and setting it aside. She then turned the page, and carefully spoke the next word. "S-skirt. Find skirt."
For a moment Zwei was confused; hadn't she just said that? His ears twitched, and he tapped Ennea's arm twice in the way that, in their language, meant to repeat what she had said. Once she did, he heard the subtle difference. What did it matter, anyway? The only difference was that a skirt didn't have the floppy things on the sides, and it was skinnier at the top. The one in the pile had a bunch of frills in it, but it was the only thing that didn't have the floppy things on it, so he pulled it out and presented it to Ennea.
Thrilled with his success, Ennea clapped even louder. "Good!" she cheered, and turned the next page. That had a dress, which she didn't have in the pile, so she flipped to the next one. That was better. "Pants. Find pants."
That was easy too, since it was only floppy things. And again, the ones in the pile were similar to the ones that Ennea herself wore, largely because all of her clothing was handed down from Icosa. It took him all of five seconds to extract the pants from the rest of the clothing, and give them to Ennea.
He was really something. "Very good!" she exclaimed, and tossed the rest of the clothes aside. That was enough words for the moment. Now, she decided to move onto the rest of the lesson. She picked up the first garment, the shirt, and quickly put her head through the collar to demonstrate. Then she handed it to Zwei. "Do," she said simply.
Why? He could understand the importance of learning words, since they were obviously helpful. But he didn't want to play around with clothing. Still, a lesson was a lesson, so he relented and put his head through the hole, and even let Ennea guide his arms into the sleeves.
Once he was fully in the shirt, Zwei decided that he hated it. It was much too big, and his arms flapped uselessly inside the sleeves. Even rearing as high as he could, the entire thing dragged on the floor. It caught in his coils, and when he tried to slither off the beanbag chair, he fell on his face.
Shrieking loudly, Ennea hurried to pick Zwei up. Her clothes were much to big as well, but at least she was roughly the size of an adult. She wasn't much shorter than Bernard, just thinner. But a grown man's clothes didn't fit a toddler at all.
Then again, she thought, maybe the pants would fit. Except he didn't have two legs, just one. Bernard had explained that Zwei was what was called a Naga. Ennea supposed that they just wore one pants, and not a pair. She could cut it in two later, and then Zwei would have two pants.
Pleased with her idea, Ennea began to pull the pants over Zwei's tail. "Pants on," she sang as she worked. They were nearly the right size!
The pants were less enormous on him, since his whole body was being stuffed into one leg. But that didn't make it comfortable, or enjoyable. The pants restricted his movement even more, and them scraping against his scales itched. He clawed at Ennea, but didn't want to hurt her. In the end he turned his anger towards the true offenders, the pants, and slashed them with his claws.
Somewhat disheartened, Ennea watched as Zwei shredded the fabric. When he had finished, she touched his shoulder. "Why?" she asked mournfully. He had never reacted this badly to his lessons before.
Zwei shrugged. "Bad," he declared. The clothes were bad for him, and he wanted no part of them. And when they didn't leave him alone, he'd made sure they would never bother him again.
Still, he didn't mean to upset Ennea. "Not Ennea bad," he clarified. "Pants bad. C-clothing bad. No more."
"No more," Ennea agreed, wondering if she should shed her clothing as well. Maybe not now. She could ask Bernard about it later.
"Read book?" she asked, pulling out the book that Zwei had abandoned. She remembered this one! Maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could sound out all of the words without help.
Nodding, Zwei squeezed Ennea's hand and wound his tail around her leg. "Cat Hat," he declared. "Read Cat Hat."
Despite the way the pants had ended, Ennea decided she was pleased with how this learning time was going. She didn't even mind the feel of Zwei's scales against her skin anymore. Opening the new book, she started at the beginning, saying each word slowly and carefully. "The sun did not s-shine. It was tow- too wet to p-play..."
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Posted: Sun Jan 11, 2009 7:58 pm
[reserved - christmas present]
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Posted: Sun Jan 11, 2009 8:00 pm
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Posted: Sun Jan 11, 2009 8:05 pm
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Posted: Sun Jan 11, 2009 8:08 pm
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Posted: Thu Feb 19, 2009 1:19 am
[easy as pie]
A couple of weeks after Teyr's arrival, Bernard had invested in a simple easel. One side was a whiteboard, the other a blackboard. That day it was set up in the kitchen, next to the table. The whiteboard side was covered with a neat alphabet and numerals, carefully printed by Bernard, now slightly erased in some places. Ennea was in the process of writing the first five letters of the alphabet along the top of the blackboard. She then turned to her audience, and pointed to the first letter. "A," she stated.
"A," Zwei repeated. Even though he took this seriously- so much of what Ennea taught him was from books- he was bored. They had gone over this so many times already. "B, C, D, E." When would they get to the new stuff?
Impressed, Ennea clapped her hands three times. "Good! Write?" She offered Zwei the chalk, and watched him shakily print the letters in question on the board. He was still wobbly, but much improved. Satisfied, she held out another piece of chalk. "Teyr write?"
At first Teyr was watching attentively. Like Zwei, he considered reading a necessary skill he wanted to learn properly. But perhaps the choice of the classroom was not the best, as his attention kept flickering to the counter. Dinner was already set up there- Bernard had bought a pan full of lasagna, a loaf of bread, and a cherry pie from the local market. All of it looked delicious, but Teyr was giving special attention to the pie. It looked so red and shiny and he just wanted one bite-
It didn't take long for Ennea to see that something was off. "Teyr?" she repeated, more sharply. "Write? Teyr!"
Teyr tore his eyes off the pie and looked at Ennea quickly. "Sorrysorrysorry!" he twittered. "What?"
"Write? Please?" Ennea was rarely impatient, but her tone came across as such. Rather, she was concerned. Was she teaching properly? Neither of the boys seemed all that interested. Bernard had done such a good job keeping her interested... but no, she couldn't ask for help. He'd made it clear that these two were her responsibility, and she would do right by them.
Sensing Ennea's unease, Zwei glared at Teyr. Why was he making her upset? "Write," he repeated. Maybe then they would learn something new.
It seemed that Teyr's head had become a blur, it nodded so fast. Quickly he ran up to the board and slowly, painstakingly, began to copy the letters. It took him longer, but his were also somewhat neater than Zwei's.
The lesson continued on that way for a while, with Zwei quickly assimilating everything, and Teyr constantly being distracted by the food. When they were finally at the last six letters, Ennea was relieved. They seemed to be understanding, for all the trouble it was.
Teyr stared at the board. This time he was asked to go first, so he didn't even have Zwei to watch. Maybe it was punishment, but Teyr just tried to push through. U wasn't that hard, just a curve. And V was a pointy U. W was a bit harder though, and again Teyr's eyes drifted towards the pie...
"Still busy?" Bernard set a pile of books down on the kitchen counter and peered at the blackboard. "Good work," he said gruffly. "We'll hold off on dinner until you're done with the lesson."
Even though Bernard spoke quickly, Teyr caught the meaning, and gasped. Dinner would be even LATER? He couldn't let that happen! His focus took grip, and he raced through the last four letters. They weren't as neat as his standard, but he didn't even look at them before pulling himself into his chair at the kitchen table.
Ennea was stunned. "Good, good!" she exclaimed. "Zwei write?"
But now it was Zwei's turn to be distracted. How had Teyr done that so fast? Was he just pretending to write slowly? It didn't make sense. But either way, Zwei could not let Teyr beat him. Just as quickly, he chalked the last letters on the board and was slithering into his seat before Bernard could even get the plates out.
Ecstatic, Ennea applauded. "Good, good, good!" She was so proud of them for getting it! But what made the difference? Smiling, but confused, she looked at Bernard.
Bernard winked as he cut the lasagna. "Sometimes, my dear, you have to find the right incentive."
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Posted: Mon Feb 23, 2009 1:26 am
[of motors and motives]
Bernard North was not a man one could call "up on technology." To him, advanced meant charging an enemy, and technology consisted of radio towers and assembly lines. Upon moving to Gaia, however, one of his housewarming gifts was a small television. Bernard kept it in the kitchen, which had become the equivalent of a family room. Today, however, it was off while he penned a letter.
Bernard's Letter
Dear Annika,
Although this letter is quite late in coming, I assure you the contents have been felt for some time. However, my situation here has become complicated, and
As Bernard was writing, Zwei slipped into the kitchen. Ennea had engaged them in a game of Hide and Seek, and it was his turn to seek. His little experience had taught him to first check for Teyr in the kitchen, probably in the refrigerator.
As he ran his hands over the counters looking for flesh, he knocked a small device to the ground. Immediately, the box on the table lit up with images- a man and a woman talking about a new brand of tomato juice. Or, what Zwei saw, a tiny man and a woman stuck in a box.
Although Bernard was aware of Zwei's presence from the start, he only set his pen down when the television came on. "I'm afraid Teyr hasn't come in here, Zwei." Although, in truth, he was rather relieved. Teyr appeared to have an unnatural fixation with food. He tried to resume his letter, but paused when he noticed Zwei staring at the TV, and laughed. "That's just a television. A TV. Here, watch." He pushed a button on the remote, and the picture changed to a scenic beach, with a monotonous voice droning on in the background.
Zwei's eyes widened, and he didn't move an inch. The game was completely forgotten in favor of this new toy. How did it work? How did the people get in there? "How?" Zwei asked, his tongue almost tripping over the word.
"Like this." Quickly demonstrating the way to switch channels, Bernard dropped the remote into Zwei's outstretched hands. "Try it yourself, so long as you don't break anything." With that, he returned to his letter.
As soon as he had the remote in his hands, Zwei pushed the buttons rapidly, switching from channel to channel in an eyeblink. Soon he tired of that, and began actually studying what was on each channel before changing it.
Bernard's Letter
Dear Annika,
Although this letter is quite late in coming, I assure you the contents have been felt for some time. However, my situation here has become complicated, and I am having some difficulty adjusting. At this point, to be quite frank, I feel I am a bit out of my league.
I'm sure you recall my letter some months ago, regarding the strange person found in my backyard. Although I am disappointed that you were unable to visit for Thanksgiving holidays, your gift to Ennea was most appreciated. While she is still shy and does not handle stress well, she is now able to go among other people with less worry about her appearance.
However, the matter of stress is still vital, as I have been shown. During an attempt to find out more about the sort of person she is, I sent her to a research facility of some type. I know now that I should have gone with her, but then I did not. Not only did these people not provide helpful information, the research they are doing involves small children, and placing them in homes with unsuspecting adults. As you may guess, they sent Ennea home with one of these children. With little choice in the matter, legal documents being what they are, we have accepted him into our home.
However, the news does not end there. Two weeks after that day we went to find out more about this facility. However, Zwei (the child) wandered off, and by the time I located him, they somehow managed to saddle Ennea with another child. Perhaps wisely, we have not returned to that building since.
Free to do what he liked, Zwei lazily flipped through the different channels. Most- like the ones with people talking, or just scenery- were boring. Some had brighter lights and more action, but Zwei couldn't really understand what they were saying, and it wasn't long before he kept going. Then, suddenly, he hit something he could almost understand.
'We have to do it, Jack! We have to work together!'
Zwei watched in amazement as the people on screen pulled devices out of their pockets. In a flash of blinding light, they changed from being normal people to being dressed in tight-fitting outfits in different, bold colors, all wearing capes. "Super Sparkle Rangers!" they shouted, racing off to fight some sort of monster.
Now this... this was interesting.
Somewhat boredly, Teyr wandered into the room. He'd been hiding in his closet for the past half hour, and was tired and confused and hungry. Mostly hungry. When he saw Zwei he recoiled, but then he saw the television. Entranced, he sat down next to Zwei. "What?"
"Shhhh," Zwei hissed, not taking his eyes off the screen. He needed to see what happened next!
Bernard's Letter
The children are both boys. I have impressed it on both them and Ennea that she is their mother, and that while she is not able to do everything that a mother should be able to, she is to try her best. I have furthermore impressed it on them that I am not their father. Not only would that look disgraceful, I am not sure I have the strength of will to go through that again.
The younger of the two boys, who we have taken to calling Teyr, seems to be relatively normal for a child his age. He is curious and struggles to keep up with his elder brother. He eats a lot- more than one would think is necessary, which makes me wonder how normal he is. But I must remind myself that he is a growing boy. My one concern is that he seems to constantly apologize, but I assume that he picked this habit up from Ennea, and that he will grow out of it in time. Aside from these points- and his unusual eyes, and the wings that sprout from his hips- he appears to we a reasonably well-adjusted child.
The elder of the two, who I have named Zwei, is a very odd child. I do not mean this only in appearance, though that is odd enough. His body resembles that of a Naga, yet there are pieces of metal seeminly mounted to it. But it is more than that. His demeanor is altogether too serious for one so young. He fixates on the rules, and attempts to punish anyone- himself included- for breaking them. I have never met such a perfectionist child.
"Go go Sparkle!" Zwei yelled, waking Bernard from his thoughts. He was up on the tip of his tail and brandishing a butter knife at the television. "Go go hero!"
"Go go," Teyr parroted, holding a soup spoon in each hand. There was a jar of jelly next to him, sans lid, and one of the spoons was covered in purple goo. The other was pointed at the television.
Bernard had to lunge forward on his bad knee to prevent Zwei from impaling the television with his knife. "No," he said sternly. "Understand, Zwei, that what you're watching is just a picture. Like in your books. You cannot influence the action from this end." He sighed. "At the very least, you cannot try to break anything. That was a rule. Do you understand?
"Yes," Zwei said quietly, letting the knife fall to the floor. He hadn't meant to break a rule. He wasn't even sure what rule he was breaking, but he knew that he had to be more careful. Icosa wouldn't like it if the Sparkle Rangers were distracted.
"Yes," Teyr echoed, and quickly added a follow up question. "What's hero?"
Smiling in spite of his annoyance, Bernard lurched to his feet, wincing as his bad leg shook with his weight. "A hero is someone who helps people. I believe what you are watching is about superheroes, however. A superhero is a kind of hero that fights bad people in order to save a large number of innocent people."
"Superhero," Zwei repeated, his eyes wide. That meant they were even better than a normal hero, didn't it?
"Yes. Now, you can watch, but do not break anything. Understand?" Satisfied as the boys nodded, he left them to their television and went back to finish his letter.
Bernard's Letter
Then again, Annika, I suppose that boys will be boys no matter what they are like. Isn't that right?
In any event, I sincerely thank you for your gifts this holiday. Whenever you have time, I would enjoy it if you could come visit and meet the people I find myself sharing my life with these days. It seems that fate has provided support for my time of need, before I even knew I needed it. However, I suggest fate take a good look and make sure it did not goof.
Please give my best to your wonderful husband and children, and next time, I promise it is I who will do the visiting. As always, my love to you, to Mother, and the rest.
Your faithful brother,
Bernard
As Bernard folded the letter, he glanced up at the television. The show had ended, but Zwei and Teyr were busy enacting their favorite parts. Bernard considered this, and then set the letter aside. The post could wait. Now, he needed to see this small act, and what it showed the future holding for all of them.
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Posted: Mon Feb 23, 2009 8:46 am
It would be on a Saturday that you open your mail box (if you have one) and notice there is a rather thick envelope stuffed in there. There is no postage stamp and a very vague return address. But you recognize the font and the company's name. 'Seven of Seven Inc' scrawled in majestic font across the upper left hand corner. As you open it, you may strangely find yourself drawn to the letter, there is a mass of notes inside. They read as follows:Letter Congratulations! You have managed to succeed in raising your child. (IE: Not killing him or her or getting killed yourself. Haha we kid of course.) We would like an update from you on the following: Guardians Name: Child's Name: Sin: Virtue: Gender: Current Attitude: Likes: Dislikes: Any abnormal growths: (if any, example: Feathers molting, horns growing larger, scars ) Current hair style: Current clothing preferences: Dominant celestial trait: (The sin or virtue) Please summarize in your own words how difficult or easy it was taking care of your child. Did you manage to care for them in a kindly fashion? Or were you forced to discipline them? As well do not be alarmed if you suddenly find your child achieving a massive growth spurt in the next little while. We are finding that the children from our facility have strange growing patterns and are rather unpredictable. Although please let us know if anything unexpected occurs. Sincerely the technicians from Seven of Seven Inc. Ps. Please just leave your letter back in your mail box one you have completed it our courier will pick it up. Thank you.
(Just take the from Guardians name to Dominant Celestial trait and pm it to the mule, the summarization doesn't have to be long just have fun with it.)
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Posted: Mon Feb 23, 2009 3:43 pm
It would be on a Saturday that you open your mail box (if you have one) and notice there is a rather thick envelope stuffed in there. There is no postage stamp and a very vague return address. But you recognize the font and the company's name. 'Seven of Seven Inc' scrawled in majestic font across the upper left hand corner. As you open it, you may strangely find yourself drawn to the letter, there is a mass of notes inside. They read as follows:
Congratulations! You have managed to succeed in raising your child. (IE: Not killing him or her or getting killed yourself. Haha we kid of course.) We would like an update from you on the following:
Guardians Name:
Child's Name:
Sin:
Virtue:
Gender:
Current Attitude:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Any abnormal growths: (if any, example: Feathers molting, horns growing larger, scars )
Current hair style:
Current clothing preferences:
Dominant celestial trait: (The sin or virtue)
Please summarize in your own words how difficult or easy it was taking care of your child. Did you manage to care for them in a kindly fashion? Or were you forced to discipline them?
As well do not be alarmed if you suddenly find your child achieving a massive growth spurt in the next little while. We are finding that the children from our facility have strange growing patterns and are rather unpredictable. Although please let us know if anything unexpected occurs.
Sincerely the technicians from Seven of Seven Inc.
Ps. Please just leave your letter back in your mail box one you have completed it our courier will pick it up.
Thank you.
You would notice the letter seems overly friendly...strange since the scientist were so ...cold before.
(Just take the from Guardians name to Dominant Celestial trait and pm it to the mule, the summarization doesn't have to be long just have fun with it.)
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Posted: Wed Mar 04, 2009 1:56 am
[short notice]
Bernard dropped a thick stack of mail on the kitchen table, then eased himself into a chair. It was one of those wet days that made his bones ache even more, but someone had to go out and get dinner. Still, he was exhausted.
"Ennea, clean the boys up for dinner!" he called. There was a loud noise from upstairs, as if someone had dropped something heavy, followed by silence. After a few seconds he could hear movement again. There was no way to tell if they were listening, but Bernard was too tired to go and enforce the rules.
Instead, he sorted through the mail. Most of it was catalogs from companies that refused to leave him alone, despite the fact that he had no interest in pet grooming supplies, women's shoes, CD clubs, cookbooks, or pajamas. And he had no idea why he was even getting most of these catalogs. Sighing, he put a catalog advertising magazine subscriptions (as if he needed more mail) aside, revealing a large envelope. Oddly, there was no postage mark oh it, and the only address was "Durem." Bernard almost discarded it, until he saw the name of the sender- Seven of Seven Inc.
"The nerve," Bernard muttered, ripping the envelope open. Inside was a form letter, as well as a blank form of some kind, a return envelope with no postage, and a couple of other notes. "'Congratulations,'" Bernard read, "'You have managed to succeed in raising your child. IE-'" He paused, and reread the last line. "What is that supposed to mean?" Quickly he scanned the rest of the form. Most of it looked fairly standard, if they wanted an update on the condition of the kids. But there were some things that confused him. Sin and Virtue, for example, as well as 'Dominant Celestial Trait,' whatever that was.
As Bernard was puzzling over these enigmatic terms, Ennea rushed downstairs breathlessly. "Washing up," she stated. "Dinner now?"
"In a moment. Ennea, please go to my room and get me the folder in the top drawer of my desk." Bernard gave the instructions slowly and enunciated each word to make sure she would understand. "They're the papers we got from that company the boys came from. Bring them to me quickly."
At the mere mention of that place, Ennea paled noticeably, turning her complexion from cream to chalk. That place was horrible, even if the boys weren't. But she was bound to do what Bernard asked, so she ran back upstairs quickly, retrieving the folder as quickly as possible. "Here," she said, depositing it on the table. "Go now?"
Even though he knew it would upset her, Bernard shook his head. "I'd like you to stay while I read through this. Remember, you are their parent, not me. I will help you with the writing, but they are your responsibility."
Gulping, Ennea nodded miserably. She didn't mind being a mother; in truth, she was still learning what it meant. But when Bernard started talking about responsibility, it usually meant he was angry with her, and she hated that.
Bernard was in fact angry, but not with her. The cryptic company was to blame, and while he was too furious to properly read the papers accompanying the boys when they arrived, he would now.
A few minutes later, he put them down, removed his glasses, and rubbed the sides of his nose. 'Angels and demons," Bernard mumbled. It sounded crazy to him, and he considered himself an open-minded individual. But it was right there, in writing. A company based on creating demonic-angelic hybrids. How did they even manage to exist?
And yet, it explained more than it didn't. Zwei, for example. While he didn't seem particularly despairing, he had an unusual obsession with rules. That had to be Justice, didn't it? And from the little information they had on Zwei's biological parents, who were apparently very special within their races, he seemed to be quite like them.
When Bernard's thoughts moved on to Teyr, though, he was convinced. It all fit perfectly. Teyr's desire for food, almost constantly, regardless of when he had last eaten. His repeated apologies, even when he had done nothing wrong. He was both of his parents, down to a T. There was more information provided for the angel of Humility and demon of Gluttony- but Bernard had read enough. He closed the folder with a sigh.
"Ennea, set the table, please. We'll discuss this after dinner."
Eager to change the subject, Ennea jumped up. "Yes!" Then, as an afterthought, she looked anxiously at Bernard. "Icosa's okay, yes?"
"Yes," Bernard replied automatically. When he realized what he had done, he looked up at her, and smiled slightly. "Thank you for asking. Yes, I'm fine. We're all fine. Things are just... different than I had expected. But now that I know what to expect, I think we'll be alright."
Bernard didn't know it yet, but those would one day be added to his collection of famous last words.
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Posted: Fri May 01, 2009 12:28 am
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Posted: Fri May 01, 2009 12:33 am
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Posted: Fri May 01, 2009 12:34 am
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Posted: Fri May 01, 2009 12:39 am
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