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 Posted: Wed Dec 14, 2005 8:41 am
The Lead Up lithle Pushing open the door to her apartment, Lithle couldn't help but think she didn't want to enter. Not that she hesitated, the world did not allow for such weakness, but there was a definate defensiveness to her stance. As if something dark awaited her.
Instead, a well lit living room, all in soft golds and warm browns. Not her colours. Her colours. It hurt to look at them, like it hurt to look at the expert sketches of flora that hung framed on the gentle gold walls. Soon, she hoped to find the strength to take them down.
The carrier was heavy after the walk, and she set it in the middle of the living room, leaving it locked while she got down bowls for food and water and placed them on the kitchen tile. She wanted the little ones to feel at home. More importantly, she wanted them to make her feel at home.
"Come on out, Torvald, Ulle." She murmured there names gently, stroaking warm kitten fur as she took them from the carrier, releasing them to scamper, all curiousity and fear, under the sofa. They would come out soon. They would be her company.
"I'll be back." She told the couch, "Must see if I can get a litter pan and toys out of that horrid place. If I knew of another pet store within walking distance, trust me, we'd be shopping there." Already she was talking them. How bad a sign was that? How lonely had the handful of days made her?
The walk was a short one, and she was again at the door of Birdcage. Bristling before she even walked in, and obviously. Slipping back to silence, to the place where she could remember, but also function, she pushed open the door. Do what must be done. The rules were simple, and she could abide. Disinclined It seemed as if Shanuh had hardly moved. He stood behind the counter, waiting, as if he'd known of her return. With the obnoxious jingle of bells, he spared her a reserved glance, before tilting his head. "Welcome back." It wasn't sarcastic, and it was far from being cruel! But there was a sense of neutrality in his voice. He remembered her, from what felt like moments before. He suspected she'd returned to either bring back the cats (perhaps they weren't to her liking?) or perhaps to browse for some cat toys? Whatever the reason, she had returned, and had graced them all with her presence. Shanuh wasn't perterbed at all. Deciding that this human was touchy, he didn't bother asking if she required any service. He'd wait and see if she appeared lost and confused, or perhaps just frustrated! For now, he'd let her roam, and approach only if he deemed it appropriate. This woman was as sharp as a blade, as touchy as nitroglycerin, and as tough as a bullettrain. She wasn't going to stop for anyone, and the slightest ill word or misguided phrase could set her off completely. He'd found that out the hard way. lithle
Allowing Shanuh a brief nod, Lithle scanned the shop briefly, picking out one of the more expensive kitty litters, and a smaller litter box. The larger ones looked rather too big, and she wanted Torvald and Ulle to be able to get in and out. Lingering at the collars, she picked out a deep red and a pale gold, both with bells, and dropped those in the box as well. The Gods knew the kittens wouldn't want to wear them, but she wanted to know where they were.
The birds were still singing. Did they ever stop? The constant music, the clashing cries, merging with the muffled whines of dogs... she felt the hair at the back of her neck lifting. There had been a time when she'd enjoyed the sound of birdsong, hadn't there? Gentle music turned to harsh voices and accusations. No. She was here, she was now. Let the moment be, and the rest drown. The birds would not call back the dark.
Walking up to the counter, she set down her load of items heavily, box, litter, and collars thumping loudly. "Did they have any favorite toys while they were here?" She didn't bother playing at pleasent, returning to their conversation as if she'd never left. "Any that you suggest?" And that, perhaps, was a sort of white flag, an attempt to at least pretend she was civil. Too tired now, even to fight. Too unbalanced to play at anger.
Disinclined Shanuh watched as the woman returned to check out with her load. Collars, litter, and a box. He eyed the items casually, picking up the bag of litter to scan it in the system. "Their favorite game was running in and out of paper bags and boxes, second only to their joy of dragging one of the peacock feathers along the floor." He gestured toward the small bin where various toys could be found. A plethora of real feathers, some dyed bright, unnatural colours, stuck out of a tall tin. "Just take your pick," he offered, ringing up the littler pan and setting the cat-litter in it. He didn't have a bag for the boxes - it would probably do her better to just carry it herself. Ringing up the collars, he reached his hand under the counter and snagged two, neatly folded paper bags. He set them in the box, underneath the litter and collars so they wouldn't blow away. "You can never do with enough bags." A faint smile twisted his lips. Baby animals were alway so curious and - what was the term - fun? Shanuh wouldn't miss them, but that didn't mean he'd forget about them. At least not right away. A kitten was a kitten was a kitten - they were all the same and many played the same games. All cats liked bags. Mostly. lithle
"Thank you" Lithle said the words in that same detached voice, but maybe she meant them. Maybe she meant everything she said. Maybe she was calm, and reserved, and in control. Maybe Shanuh was chocolate flavored, with sprinkles. But probably not, probably she was lying.
Every move a lie, each calm, controlled motion. The way she turned to eye the indicated feathers, the exacting way she selected four of them. Blue, red, black, silver. Beautiful colours. Lithle didn't smile, she wasn't that good a liar, but she didn't scream either, and such acting might merit award, were she on the big screen, instead of browsing for sanity in a pet store.
"These will do, for now. I'm sure I'll find I haven't gotten them everything they needed soon enough." She set the feathers firmly on the counter, attention browsing the room at large in attempt to not hear the noise. The singing.
Tanks, dry skin, forked tongues. Green means poison. Lithle winced, her stance becoming tighter, even more defensive.
"Do cats eat snakes?" The question, while out of the blue, was asked in utter seriousness, "I know they could, but would it be common?"Disinclined Shanuh hardly looked up by the random question, and didn't express any form of shock or surprise. Why should he be starteled about it? Humans weren't an intelligent species, and to make up for their ignorance, had to be curious and ask about everything - regardless of how idiotic it sounded to another. Humans weren't content to sit around and enjoy the knowledge they naturally had - which, sad to say, wasn't a lot. SHanuh could see why they were so damned curious and full of trouble - if they weren't, their species would die off from stupidity! But this question about snakes wasn't all the shocking. Not to Shanuh. In some areas, snakes were a problem. "Well," he started, reaching foward to ring up her feather-toys. "If the cat's trained to live outdoors and is taught at an early age to rely on instinct and hunt, then it's very possible they could kill snakes on a regular basis. Especially if where they stray is heavy with them. But, if they're coddled and kept indoors, there's a chance they might not. If you're looking for a good snake killer, might I suggest a mongoose?" The King Cobra killer, similar to that Riki Tiki Tavii. Such literature, he remembered reading that book years ago. Of course Shanuh found it rediculous, but there wasn't much literature ont he shelves he allowed himself to truly enjoy. He was too cold to care. Looking up at the sharp woman, a sudden thought occured to him, a small smile curving his lips. "If not a mongoose, then perhaps a type of hawk? Even the smalllest of falcons in the accipiter family, can kill snakes. Exactly how big of snakes are we talking about?" Hawks and falcons and eagles - that was something Shanuh could offer readily. To find a mongoose? That would take a few weeks to dig up and illegally import. But, he was a man created to serve. lithle
Oh... a very big snake. But that of course, was architypal, Lithle's problem was with snakes in general. Horrid deadly slithering things, memories of pain. Memories of having to let go all she had worked so hard for. Her silence was telling, once again pointing to the fact that this was not an entirely idle query.
"Whatever size I might run into." She responded, attention once again returning to the reptile area of the store. Not that she had a problem with ALL reptiles, lizards were fine in her book.
"Wouldn't a hawk be rather difficult to obtain?" Lithle appeared to discard her hostility for the sake of information. Not, mind, that she was being especially friendly, just not actively fierce. Like a guard dog with nothing at the moment to bark at. "And a Mongoose, I somehow doubt any local store carries either animal."
Frowning, Lithle ran her finger lightly over one of the feathers, glancing behind her at the remaining cats in the store, "And I have no intention of letting my new kittens go half feral. Sometimes I think I should simply move to Ireland."
Disinclined Shanuh paused in the middle of ringing Lithle up, staring at her in the way a fisherman stares at the delicate bobber. The woman, for all her snarls, had taken the bait. Now, it was time to see just how far the hook would be swallowed. He smiled, though his lips were indeed far from warm-and-fuzzy. "Anything can be obtained, given you have the right resources and contacts," he assured, easily bypassing her worries and concerns over the animals in question. No, he didn't have any mongooses in stock (though he could easily put them on his list of stock items) but hawks, and birds of prey - now those he had in store. "Given, you've just bought two cats, but if you'd like, I can show you my special collection. There are a few you might be interested in, but better yet, they maybe interested in you." This time, a light that had been lacking, brightened his two-toned gaze. Like a child, peeking down the stairs on Christmas morn, there was a tender joy found behind his frigid exterior. He wasn't all sarcasm and arrogance. This one had the ability to feel. Shanuh didn't expect her to go for the idea. But, he figured he should at least ask. She was harsh, like him, if more acidic. None of the others before her held that same sort of callous nature. It would be a treat for them, if they were curious at all. lithle
She'd never been one for safety. Not from the first time she'd learn what it meant to run with a pack. And if the pack had deemed her a weak member since that point, well they still kept her fed. And Lithle could not blame them their caution. She had endangered them all, and if she wasn't for safety, she wasn't for stupidity either.
Shanuh bothered her, that much was clear. Hackles raised, growls through teeth, she wanted to leave him, take her bright feathers, her kittens' things, and walk out of the store. And yet-- his words, with there dark hints and shadowed edges, brought old instincts to attention. 'Special Collection'? Was he selling rare animals? Cilere had always ranted about--
No. Down that road lay madness. Still. There was another, safer path. Her old pack could still take advice, when she felt the need to give it. And feeding Shanuh to the pack was an all too appealing idea. She'd only have to confirm the fact first. Oh, they wouldn't come at him all guns and dogs, but they had their more legal outlets too. They would do something. Kill the strange smile on the icy man's lips. And if it went deeper, if this sunk into drugs or slavery, well then the hunt would be called.
"The kittens are kittens. I do need something with a bite. I'll see what else you have to offer. No promises to my interest."
Disinclined That glacier smile seemed to soften from ice to snow, and the light behind his eyes -gleaming like a heatless sunset - brightened. Another victem. Another possibility. All her edges and snarls, all her reserve - she'd certainly proved to become an interesting one. Flipping back his hair, he stepped out from behind his counter and gave a little nod. "If you'd just follow me, please," he courted, civility attached to his words. He could play a good host, he could play a kind man. It wasn't that he wasn't kind, his kindness merely stretched down a different path. A route not many followed, and those whom did, wouldn't find out the consequences until far too late. ((I hope it's safe to assume she's going to follow - feel free to have her not, or whatever. This is just posed to move things a long. Hope you don't mind!)) Shanuh's heels clicked across the floor, that familiar stroll entering his gait. He knew where he was going, knew where he'd take this barbed wired woman. "I can't guarentee any will come, but I suppose we'll have to wait and see. Sometimes they're up and waiting, other times it takes patience and allure." Inwardly, Shanuh doubted that this woman would care for an explanation. He almost felt as if he were speaking to a cement wall, earless, sightless, and careless. Still, he liked to give warning - some people tended to act shocked and disbelieving at what might (or very well might not) happen. Could he entice a hawk down to see her? Who knew. There was a good chance none would find her worthy, in which case she'd be out of luck. He had a special place in his heart for birds - Birds or otherwise. It was a small sliver of care, but it was presant nonetheless. Leading her up the dreary stairwell, he opened the topmost door to reveal the roof. Empty - he wasn't surprised - save for the slight breeze and a bucket of sealed feed. Stepping out of the way, holding open the door, he allowed her to step through if she so pleased. This red-haired woman seemed a bit edgy - and Shanuh could only wonder what a person expected being lead to the top of an empty roof! lithle
With each step, Lithle grew more and more concerned, more cautious. Paranoid, yes, she had learned to be paranoid. But more often than not, life had supported her fears, had shown the dark places in her mind to be the true places. The world was not sweet smiles and butterflies. What little Lithle had seen of such things was gone, taken swift and sudden. Shadows alone remained.
Though she tried to hide her caution, it showed. She watched Shanuh like a thing of dripping poison, a punishment. The stairs upward, the walk out onto the roof, her fingers brushed hidden spots on her person, finding the soothing outline of weapons. Oh, sure, it was only a pet store, but Lithle went everywhere armed. Here was a promise of safety, a reminder that she was not a delicate, broken creature, but a being of tooth and nail. She had fought before, she knew how to protect herself. Sometimes, others.
Still, the roof? Lithle refused to step out of the doorway, lingering there and studying the wide open space with grey eyes, the fog for once lifted. It was simple enough to read the distrust there. What better place to commit a crime, if one must do so in daylight. An open roof top, no where to run. No witnesses, shoking how rarely people thought to look up. If he expected a transaction of some form to take place, this would be the place to do it, though she saw no hint of his wares. And if he wanted to get rid of her, well who could get to her, should she scream.
Oh yes, here was a threat. But she would play calm enough, and that was easy. She didn't feel fear, only caution. And that could be hidden.
"This is your Special Collection?" She asked, still in the doorway, fingers hovering with seeming casualness near her own secret protections. She didn't look up, didn't look anywhere but Shanuh. Her posture was one of tense waiting, a positon of ready, to move to act, as the moment demanded.
Disinclined Shanuh was mildly entertained. This woman was spooked, if not as jumpy as some animals, she certainly held her caution well. Did she truly think him a killer? As if. Yes, he killed things, but upon a rooftop? PLEASE. He might not care about luxuries and human etiquette, but he did have taste. Any death that took place on the roof wasn't of his hand, but of the Birds. And if the fates deemed them a sacrifice, than so be it. Who was he to question the gods? Still, to each their own. He wasn't going to pressure her out on the open. Too many wandered willingly upon his rooftop, and not every one returned safely. Some didn't return at all, having passed a fate similar to Aura's "roofside adventure". Needless to say, Shanuh felt no guilt or blame about the bloodshed which sometimes stained the top of the Birdcage. There was no reason for him to care at all! "Patience, patience," he reassured gently, his eyes leaving Lithle's smoldering one to study the roof top. "These Birds aren't kept in cages, and will come of their own free well." He gave a small snort, his nose crinkling up in distaste. "We don't cage animals who were bred in the wild." Falling quiet, his arms calmly at his side, he waited. Would she have the patience necessary for this game of hide-and-seek? Would any be lured out by her power and intensity? Part of Shanuh did so hope a few would fly down to at least investigate this new, red-haired sacrifice. What better way to prove his innocence? Obviously she didn't trust him, and Shanuh was getting the distinct feeling that this woman didn't like him one bit. So be it. If worse came to worse, maybe a partridge would peck out her eyes. Could he be blamed for a freak accident? Of course not. Not when his gods were the ones in charge. lithle
Maybe he wasn't into anything dark, maybe he was just crazy. Lithle was starting to wonder, her gaze still fixed unwaveringly on Shanuh. In a single decisive movement, she moved away from the door, letting it slam shut and walking toward the center of the roof, an area where she could keep both the man and the door under constant watch. It wasn't like someone could sneak up behind her here.
"Your place, your rules." She allowed, keeping her hands where they were, with easy access to weapons. Pity she hadn't thought of danger, she would have come fully armed, as it was she had only the most basic protections. The man in leather didn't look like he could hide a weapon if he tried, and that was reassuring, at least he couldn't suprise her with anything larger than a switchblade.
"So, I'm to play Snow White, am I?" She asked, sarcasm introducing an edge to her dull tone. She hadn't planned on playing games, only buying tone. Old instincts had lead her up here, and now they seemed to be coming up with nothing. If something dangerous was going to happen, the pet store man showed no sign, he seemed if anything, less prickly than when she'd first arrived.
And if it was nothing, well the kittens would still be waiting at home. She could pull the black fluff balls into her lap and feel the warmth of life again. If it was what he said, well maybe she'd have a protector, if only symbolically. Symbolic snakes might just require symbolic predators. Tred might take her back, if they could count on it being safe.
Too far. Lithle knew better than to hope for so much. Best to simply wait, to see what tricks Shanuh might pull from his non-existant sleeves, bringing her a bird from a non-existant cage. Or was it a mongoose he'd promised? The red head wasn't even sure what the deal had been.Disinclined Shanuh didn't bother answering her or her snide, sarcastic comments. She just didn't understand. But why should she? It wasn't up to the mortals to know the games the gods loved to play. Waiting, quietly, he let the woman wait. And wait. And wait. Shanuh doubted her patience would last. But, whatever the case, why should he assume just because she had bite, any would care to be with her? The Birds were picky animals, certainly, but there wasn't one for everyone. Hardly. Only so many Guardians fell, and only so many Guardians would find a suitable companion. Why Lithle would be any different. . . well. . . she had been. So full of bitterness, so full of bite and mistrust - many who entered his shop thought little of mistrust or fear. Many weren't rough on the edges, moldable and soft, the lot of them. Lithle was the first to appear with secrets, with barriers, and with something dark nesting around her aura. Something . . . different. But perhaps, for what he'd confused as potential, had been nothing more than stubborness. Anyone could be stubborn, it wasn't a necessary need for any of his feathered friends. Perhaps, in this case, he'd been wrong. Be that as it may! Did he really want to put up with her attitude everyday? No. So why would any Bird? Lost in his thoughts, he waited. Waited. Waited. And that was exactly what this one wanted to do. Suddenly, as if out of no where, small, but very quick, Bird swooped around the roof. It wasn't a large raptor, but it certainly was colourful and very hard to spot. Silent, the creatures circled once before landing pointedly in front of Lithle. Wings half-spread, it's sharp black gaze sized her up. Was she good enough? Was she up to the task at hand? Hmph! Feathers ruffled, the little Kestrel waited to see how she'd react. As mistrusting as Lithel, the little falcon didn't get too close. Shanuh could only smile at the sight. So, he had decided. Their bitterness (and stubborness) would match, for certain. And she had asked for a hawk. Perhaps this little Kestrel would keep away the snakes, literally and otherwise. "See? Patience is a virtue," he murmured, rather smug in the fact that a little one had shown face. "See if he'll suit your fancy, though I don't really believe you have a choice in whether or not he stays or goes." This Bird was independent all the way. But Lithle had something. As gruff as himself? Perhaps. He wasn't all bite - this little Kestrel just liked to keep himself detached. Not many would he let in - and Lithle would surely have to work at it. But they were meant to be, regardless. He wouldn't have shown up if they weren't. lithle
The startling movement of the landing Kestrel had Lithle reaching into her loose, concealing boy's shirt, hand retreating without a weapon when she realized that it was a bird, not a attack. A bird. She hadn't thought there would really be a bird. Certainly not one that stood and watched her with unquestionably intelligent and unforgiving black eyes. This was no normal raptor, that was clear enough.
As far as symbolic protections went, it was a rather small symbol. And it was a very large snake. But Lithle wasn't one to argue, at least not with the hostile gaze of a falcon fixed on her without the slightest hint of wavering. If it was what she would see as a protector, than perhaps she could also protect it. There was something to it, something to them, a bond that wouldn't be easily parted. Shanuh, b*****d that he was, had led her to something valuable. And-- otherworldly. There was no need to ask what this was about, because it was clear, so clear. Two stained souls, two outsiders. Black gaze to gray and they would understand each other.
Kneeling, but not approaching the bird, Lithle held out her fist, close to the ground. "Well?" She asked, usually emotionless growl touched by some hint of feeling. Awe? Confusion? Hard to tell. She waited, knowing full well that there was no use forcing things. The bird would be gone in a breath if it felt threatened, as she would, in its place.
"Come on. We're both armed." An admittance, and a suggestion of connection. Lithle felt no strangeness in speaking to the bird. It wasn't normal. Normal raptors did not see humans, and come to play. "I'm not just going to crouch here forever."
Disinclined The kestrel stared at Lithle's proffered hand, his untrusting eyes focusing solely on her. Did he or didn't he? Why? was the biggest question. He had wings. He could fly. He surely didn't need her to carry him around. Did he tolerate her? Maybe. Feathers still ruffled, the little raptor spread his wings, bobbing his head as his eyes narrowed at the woman. His body language screamed that he DID know how to fly and if she wans't going to stay crouched down forever, than so be it. It wouldn't bother him one way or another. In a suddenly movement, he was off the ground, and not at all to land on her hand. Circling her dangerously close, the hawk came to a forceful landing on her shoulder. His talons dug into her, but one could tell he wasn't trying to hurt her, just kepe enough grip so he didn't fall off. He was large enough that her shoulder was a bit crowded, but she'd just have to move her head over, wouldn't she? See - he could fly. He'd allow himself this moment of closeness for now. But who knew when he'd change his mind? Shanuh's lips had turned upwards into a fond, almost affectionate smile. Evenly matched, they were. THe kittens would hold no competition, not with the Kestrel's strong attitude. "I've shown you what you've asked. Just do me a favor and keep a watchful eye on him. He's gonna need it," the last part was more of an affectionate murmer to himself. His little Birds, pairing off one by one. Soon, there might be none left. Soon, they'd all be on their path to their rightful place of life. lithle "Listen, Bird. You may be able to cut my skin, but I can break your neck between two fingers. Ease UP!" A low kree of anger, but the request was submitted to, after a sufficient pause to make the point that he didn't HAVE to listen. She didn't have to listen either. In fact, it seemed as if the two might just stand there, pointedly exhibiting their individual power, and ignoring Shanuh. It'd be a cold day in hell before either admitted true weakness. But Lithle had cats waiting at home, and blood on her shirt. It wasn't submission that made her move, but need, and that was something she was willing to obey. She looked at Shanuh, head tilted slightly to one side to accomidate the small falcon, murder in her eyes, "I have no idea what the HELL you've gotten me into. But we WILL discuss it." A none too light squeeze on her shoulder, more blood. "Later." She hissed, obeying the unspoken indication that the Kestrel was tired of standing around chatting. "I will have you DECLAWED you damned feathered beast." She snarled, turning forcefully to the door and storming down the stairs.
As she picked up her things and pushed her way through the front door, the Kestrel called out again, a irritated kree, kree, kree, and launched off her shoulder, talon gouging tender flesh. He didn't go far, circling a bit over head, keeping her in sight. He didn't need to be coddled, not this one. He could take care of himself, fly under his own power. Lithle was simply an interesting b***h, and for a time, he would allow their roads to cross.
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Posted: Fri Dec 16, 2005 10:17 am
Letting the door slam heavily behind her, Lithle dropped the litter box full of odds and ends. The kittens could wait. The Kestrel was perched on the balcony railing, she could see it through the sliding glass door. It'd circled her all the way home, refusing to land, and had apparently figured out which balcony was hers. The furious glare she was getting should have melted the glass. Lithle was the first to look away.
Without pausing to open the door, Lithle turned and walked into the bathroom, stripping off her shirt as she did so. The gun next, Lithle unbuckled the strap that kept the small handgun conceiled beneath her shirt, hanging it on the back of the door. Pity hunting raptors was illegal. The shirt was ruined, and the numerous tiny gouges in her skin continued to weep blood. More scars, maybe, if small ones. Well, no one would notice, what with the one that went from breast to hip hogging all the attention.
Bandages, bandages, why could she always find bandages except when she was bleeding? She couldn't really be out, could she? Well, there was the first aid kit, and if that was a bit excessive, well, there wasn't much to be done. Amused by the extravagence, Lithle wrapped her shoulder with gauze, at least the damned beast's perch would be cushioned next time. Snagging a black sweatshirt off the back of the chair, Lithle returned to the living room, where the Kestrel still waited, screaming occasionally to make its point.
"If you're going to cause problems, I'm going to deal with them first, and you second." Lithle stated pointedly as she slid open the door, allowing the Kestrel to fly inside. The small falcon flew to perch on the back of a chair, cutting holes into the faux leather. "God DAMMIT bird. Can you find a perch that you won't destroy?"
Preening contently, the Kestrel didn't even bother to meet her accusing gaze. Picking up the cat things, Lithle snarled in the bird's direction, "I don't know what you are, or what the ******** you're doing with me. But you will learn some respect or I will see whether or not hawks taste good stuffed. What the hell type of bird are you anyway?"
The bird kreed drowsily, it had apparently drifted off somewhere in the middle of her rant. Maybe the cats would eat it. Cats ate birds didn't they? Sure, they were only kittens, but there were two of them, and only one of it. "Torvald, Ulle?" She called, tone taking on the falsely sweet tone usually used on small children, "Who wants to eat a feather duster?""
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Posted: Sat Dec 17, 2005 3:02 pm
The screaming would not stop, that constant, demanding sound, raking down her neck like knives and leaving her utterly on edge. Was this penance? She had done the only thing she could do, and if some would disapprove, surely her God would understand. The screaming would NOT stop.
Picking up the nearest thing at hand, a pad of paper, Lithle threw it at the bird, missing by inches and hitting the window instead. The screaming became a giggling Klee, Klee sound, the Kestrel bobbing his head in ******** you! If I wanted to hit you, I would have gotten my gun. Now shut up."
The screaming began again, almost immediatly. Slamming her hands down on the desk, Lithle swivled in the chair, trying to breathe, trying to remember power, beauty, symbolism. Anything. Something to keep her from disconnecting the Beast's head from his neck.
She knew now that the bird was a male Kestrel, that he was about average size for his species at what she estimated to nine inches. She also knew that Kestrel's did not dive out of the sky and adopt people, let alone follow them home. Not even birds that had been trained by falconers did such a thing.
"Listen you damned Bird. You want the window open. I get that. But I need the window closed. It's cold outside. When I leave, I open the window, so you're not locked up here. And if you actually wanted out, I'd open it now." Another deep breath, calm, see, she was calm, "But you don't go out. You just sit in the window and try and bite my ******** fingers off when I go to close it again."
The Kestrel fell silent, regarding her with utter stillness. Not a feather moved. Then, as if reaching a decision, he launched himself into the air, voice raised in another scream. Talons extended he flew at Lithle's head. Suprised, she ducked, just barely avoiding a line of scratches down her scalp.
"What the ********?" That was it. Where had she put her gun?
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Posted: Mon Dec 19, 2005 3:47 pm
She was still crying, it had been hours. From his perch, he watched her, huddled in her bed, clinging to that bit of fabric and sobbing. It wasn't pretty, or gentle. He had seen people cry before, but not like this. With each shuddering gasp for air, she looked like she would break apart. He was beginning to wonder if he might lose her.
It was the music that had done it. He knew that much. Usually she listened to predator music. She would put something on, and it would scream through the house, like hunger and fury. Sometimes, she would scream as well, joining with the sound. He liked it. She seemed fierce. It was why the they fit.
This was different. She had become steadily more quiet, drifting ghostlike through the apartment. He had followed her, watching, learning. Entering her room as the sunset, she had put on music. Different music. Prey music, all twitters and soft sounds. Unlike the other music, it was broken up by giggles, hesitations, words. She had held that bit of fabric and begun to cry.
In a way, he was proud of her. She had not flung her pain out into the world. She hadn't called for help, or looked for companionship. She had turned off the lights, curled up in her bed, and broken without witnesses. He thought that might be strength, in a way. He thought it right that she should shatter without anyone ever knowing.
But, he knew. He saw her now, all bits and pieces, while the music played and played and played. It wasn't right, that his should be broken. And she didn't seem to be, most of the time. She screamed, threw things, shot holes in the wall. Mostly, he thought she was fine. But not now, while she shook, making strange gasping sounds. Strong still-- yes. Pain fierce enough to match her strength.
A brief fluttering hop brought him down to her bed, perched beside her on the pillow. There was no sign that she noticed, she stayed curled around herself. This was his, he had to deal with it. Bring back her anger, so he might understand again.
Stepping awkwardly across the sheets, he reached her head, taking bits of her short hair gently in his beak, not pulling, but preening. There were more sounds than his usual loud Klee he could make, and now he did, churring softly, trying to chase the music away with his own song. That got her attention, and she blinked at him through the tears, not really reacting, simply looking confused.
"Damn it Loki. Why? Just-- just bring her back. It'll be better this time. Damn it! I want her back!"
The words were little more than babble, and they kept coming. Threats and demands. He kept close to her, as her voice faded back into rough tears, and then to uneasy sleep. Kept preening her hair and making gentle sounds, as her breathing deepened.
Flying across the room, he landed lightly next to the music thing, tapping it with his beak, the same way she did when she wanted it to stop. The prey singing quit. Flying back to her, he perched on the headboard, looking down. Tonight, he'd watch her, watch his. In the morning, she'd be up, ready to fight again. In the morning, it would be ok.
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Posted: Sat Dec 24, 2005 12:39 am
((Letter sent early one morning.))
Michael,
What the ********? That about sums up my life right now. I still miss her. I wake up every day, and wonder why. It seems like the hurt should have killed me by now. I doubt. When have I ever had doubt, Michael? There was no choice. I couldn't have handled it. She left me no ******** choice.
I need to meet with you. There are other matters as well. I have this damned bird following me around. It's not normal. Smarter than Fen, but Fen had my influence. My influence doesn't extend to birds.
When is the next batch of pups expected?
b***h.
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Posted: Thu Jan 05, 2006 2:12 pm
Lets Get Together Disinclined The black bird ruffled his feathers, shaking them out. It was still cold outside, though a warm front had passed through, keeping temperatures mild and melting some of the ice and snow. It wouldn't last, the slush would freeze over, and winter would strike again - but for now, the little raven was going to enjoy it.
As much as he enjoyed anything.
Still, it was rather difficult to enjoy the afternoon when one was going through a molt. His poor feathers looked more pathetic than usual. They were ruffled and tangled, mostly useless, but weren't quite ready to be plucked and brushed out.
Lucien and he had gotten into a bit of a fight, but Xaxis knew his Boy didn't understand. It HURT to pull out feathers! It was like taking out a chunk of hair with the roots still intact! Some looked loose, sure, but they still weren't ready to be plucked.
So, the boy had trudged outside, away from Shadyside apartment complex. The city was still semi-decorated, their white lights turned on despite the peek of sunshine through the clouds. Making his way down the sidewalk, he splashed through the puddles and kicked up some slush.
His destination was unknown, but Xaxis cared little for particulars. He was out of the house, away from Lucien (sort of - the man was slowly meandering after) and he was free!
He could do whatever he wanted here.
And yet, Xaxis couldn't really think of anything he wanted to do. He wasn't exactly the most playful of children, or the most friendly, or the most open! He existed and observed, much preferring to watch the fools around him, than be labeled one himself.
So for now, he'd keep wandering, occassionally hopping over some of the cracks in the sidewalks.
Lucien was about as "relaxed" as his little bird-friend. Yes, they'd bickered and exchanged a few heated words, but the black haired, ex-prostitute had calmed down easy enough. Sure, he felt a little guilty over the affair, but there was no use crying over spilled milk.
He'd left Xaxis alone, and hadn't offered to help him with his wings. The bird-boy probably knew best anyway. But just because he thought the little raven knew more about feathers than him, it didn't mean he'd let him wander the streets alone.
If he could help it, he liked to at least pretend he was a paternal figure to the boy. Xaxis, for all his aloofness, wasn't invinceable, and had proved to be vulnerable (and a little cautious and shy!) times before.
The boy had worked the city before getting a steady job at the Birdcge, he knew the sort of people that lurked in the allyways. He didn't want Xaxis to have to face them, or get himself in a spot of trouble.
So, Lucien was going to follow. He'd give the raven his space, sure, but he wasn't going to let him wander alone.
Hands shoved deep in his pockets, like a shadow, Lucien followed. He wouldn't interfere or intervene unless instinct told him otherwise.
lithle
The woman was on her computer again, and frankly, the Kestrel wanted out. He was adjusting, or trying to adjust, to being closed in, but everything within him screamed against it. He should be free, or at least have the choice of freedom. Sometimes, he'd scream for hours, but she ignored him, so it just made him tired.
He was learning to pick his battles.
Launching off his perch, he flew over to the window, calling once for her attention. She jumped, twisting around in one liquid movement. There was a moment where they simply stared at each other, and he could sense the rise and quick ebb of her anger. She didn't so much mind opening the window, it was leaving it open that she refused.
She no longer tried to finish what she was doing first, a tribute to her side of the comprimise. Instead, she pushed herself up, and slid the window open. Much better.
"I may go out later. The window will be open."Her words were a distant whisper, he was already in the air, enjoying the brush of cold on his feathers. So much better to be loose, to be moving. But what to do? He wasn't hungry, he'd hunted earlier. Maybe he'd just find a nice perch. Somewhere he could watch the flow of life below him.
Gliding along, following the currents, he found himself drawn to a feeling of familiarity. There, below him. One of his own kind, if not in his form. How long had it been since he'd spoken to a kindred? That might be nice. Spiraling downward, he screamed to announce his arrival.
There was a little store, with a banner hung from just above it's doorway. He landed there, folding his wings neatly, and looking down at the boy.
Don't you miss the wind?Disinclined Xaxis recognized the scream of a raptor, and paused in his splashing in puddles to look up. His wings shifted a bit underneath his jacket, cramped and sore and still itching something terribly. But that was how clothing worked, allegedly. And Lucien didn't have time to cut holes for his large ebony wings, and Xaxis had tried once to make clothing comfortable. After that incident, with his good shirt thrown away and Lucien grumbling about ruining clothes, the little raven had given up.
Looking up, he noticed the little kestrel perched on top of a sign. He offered a flicker of a smile, but mostly just stared. Was this one going to be like Calytae or that Rascir person?
He hoped not.
He didn't mind nice people, but sometimes too much singing got obnoxious, and too much activity was just too much.
With any luck, this one wouldn't be too intolerable.
"I do," he agreed, glancing down to stare at one of the cold, slushy puddles. "Sometimes I regret ever having to change. It was nice living alone, with no one telling you what to do, or how to do it." He glanced over at his shoulder, noticing that his Boy had stopped to stare in various store windows.
"You'd best enjoy your freedom while you can."
His monotonous voice was quiet, a smidge wistful. Life certainly wasn't what he'd thought it was going to be.
Sure, it was fun to watch the going-ons of people, but he could've done that and kept his smaller size, and games with the wind.
Like all ravens, and not lost to Xaxis' difference in breeding, he really had enjoyed the wind. Diving, swooping, gliding - now that he was land-locked, it was something he wished he could do again.
lithle Studying Xaxis, he tilted his head to the side slightly, resettling his wings. The words the boy gave were not of the comforting kind. Could he give up the brush of air under his wings, the fierce joy of swooping down on an unsuspecting sparrow? Was he willing to lose it for the dying ember of a girl he'd attached himself to?
He could still see the light she'd once let burn. It was a powerful call. But, so was the wind. Duty could be forgotten under the influence of a great thermal. Death could be relinquished for freedom. But-- power was a sort of freedom to. And he had none of that, riding the winds. To be little more than an equal to the other birds of simular form, to be prey to the bigger hawks, that wasn't his fate either. He was greater. Expecting more.
I will keep my freedom. A language of krees and mild movements, to be read as words, understood as speech. Not as simple as mind to mind, though there was something of that as well. It could only be shared between two of their kind. It is in me. Not the wind. Sharpness could be read in the tense line of feathers, in the angle of his head. Not anger, just insistance. He was not the girl's. He was only following her for a time. Warming himself by the fire she'd once been. Disinclined Xaxis sniffled a bit, reaching up to rub his nose with his arm. He studied the kestrel, the little raptor that he was, and all his sharp movements and his vindictive nature.
The little raven said nothing, the wheels of his mind working. He wasn't going to argue with the Kestrel, as the bird did indeed have a point. But the kestrel wouldn't understand that many old freedom would indeed be lost. He couldn't understand the restrictions that suddenly became law - from bird to man, from animal to beast.
There were changes, small losses, that happened after changing. Differences so subtle that Xaxis couldn't be bothered trying to explain them. He didn't doubt the Kestrel would indeed keep his freedom, but he did know that the Kestrel wouldn't see what he'd lost until it happened.
Xaxis didn't regret growing. He'd said only he almost regretted the change. There was a large different between almost and truth, and the little raven gained so much more by transforming. As it was with everything, sacrifices had to be made to gain. It was just the way of things - there was, as some put it, no such thing as a free lunch.
But as it were, the little boy stared up at the kestrel. "I miss fresh meat," he suddenly admitted, ruffling his wings slightly beneath his wool jacket. They itched - but he could ignore them. "How goes the hunting for you?"
Certainly, the Raven had never hunted in his life. Occassional insects and fruits, but mostly he had learned to feed off those already dead. Fresh meat to Xaxis was road-kill, to animals he'd eaten and picked at for years.
Now, the only meat he'd been served had been slabs of ground beef. Sure, he feasted bettern ow than as a bird, and his food wasn't stale, moldy or cold, but every now and then he wanted nothing more than to circle and find something dead.
To fly high in the sky and search the familiar scent of death, of blood, of meat.
Surely the kestrel could understand that much, couldn't he? They were both carnivores - though the kestrel had been blessed with the ability TO hunt his own prey.
lithle
It was the first time he'd spoken with another since choosing his partner, and the Kestrel was finding it irritatingly difficult. The bird thoughts, and the higher thoughts meshed together awkwardly, and language nearly failed to capture all he wanted to say. Still, it was nice to speak with kindred, so he continued to try.
We are-- His mind stuttered there, roughly fighting to get mixed concepts into singular words, more than death on wings that comes for meat. We are bright death, true death. We are predator of predators. He paused, collecting himself, wings fluffing out a bit. I am as an egg, and you a fledgling. You will fly again soon. Better flight, full flight. We must sacrifice these winds, for the winds we once knew.
There. And that was about all he could say on the matter, words forced into meaning, meanings forced into words. Not talking was better. Better was the sky and the kill. With that thought, he launched himself into the air, circling higher, getting a better view of things.
Everything, spread beneath him. And there, the movement he wanted. A tiny ungraceful flutter. Mind focused, body focused, he dove.
The sparrow didn't have a chance. Caught and killed, sacrifice to the hunger of something larger, more skilled. He could feel the heat of blood, dizzying almost. But he made no move to eat. He wasn't hungry.
Instead, he dropped his prey at the raven's feet. A small bundle of feathers and blood, offered up to the child.
Fresh meat.
Disinclined The raven again, said nothing to the reply. He understood what the bird had to say, again, with the sacrificing of one good for a greater good. Perhaps the kestrel had summed it up best - the winds they once knew.
Xaxis knew who he was, and who he was going to be.
He knew of the death he could cause, knew of the diseases that ran to him like the Pied Piper. Of course, he was very limited in his abilities. They were there, this power that he possessed, but it was very small and slight. As if lost in a fog that had yet to lift. But it would, someday.
Thus far, his abilities consisted of manipulating the power in himself. The colds he caught, the chills, the fevers, the overal miserableness was just part of the plan. One facet of his power, a facet he had little control over.
Disease.
Illness.
Plague.
Pestilence.
It was in him, really. That was his fate, that was what he guarded. The little viruses which sang to him, which ran through his blood and lighted up his soul. Someday he'd grow into that power, into what he knew he should be. Someday, things would be different, even though the child had very little understanding of how it would be.
This was life, was it not?
This was the path he was to follow.
As the Kestrel rose from his perch, Xaxis' magenta gaze looked up to follow his path. Was he leaving? Perpahs, the boy wouldn't be surprised. It wasn't as if he was much of a conversationalist. Still, he'd been pleased to have met the little falcon - he surely was better company than some he'd had the mis?fortune of meeting.
His little eyes watched as the Kestrel circled, nothing more than a small outline in the sky. He wasn't leaving, not really, but he was -
The creature quite suddenly dove. Like a strike of lightening, it killed, and Xaxis instinctively smelled the scent of blood. Death was at hand. When the raptor and its prey returned, the little corpse of the sparrow, still twitching in death throes, laid at his feet, Xaxis could only stare.
For him?
Really?
NO WAY! His eyes widened a bit, before a smile suddenly broke free from his features. He was obviously delighted by the prospect, and he dropped down to his knees to better have at the sparrow.
"Thank you," he muttered, remembering only then he was in a different form, a different state of being. He no longer had to worry about picking at the wounds, or waiting for a larger animal to open up the kill to the succulent, steaming flesh. He could do it himself now.
"Would you like any?" He offered, pushing one of his fingers through the wound of the bird, opening it up like some candy-coated morsel. The good stuff was inside - and it was warm! How long had it been since he'd had a chance to eat warm meat?
Often times the corpses he nibbled were long since dead, soggy, molding and wet. A fine flavor, of course, but the real pot-of-gold was when their bodies were still warm from life.
A succulent treat, and the smile that lighted his face was true.
Lucien was still waiting for his boy. He'd noticed him staring up at some sort of colourful bird. Probably a friend of his or whatever, though Lucien didn't recognize it from one at the shop. Oh well. He'd give the two their space.
But now, seeing the Kestrel return and his boy pick up some dead animal - no way! No no NO. Stomping over a bit, he cleared his throat. "If you're hungry we can pick you up something. There is food at home you know," he almost pleaded.
Sucking the guts out of a little bird. As much as he wanted to be okay with it, Lucien really wasn't.
Xaxis, on the other hand, possessively coveted the dead bird. He turned, the smile draining form his face, a little glower pinning his brows together. "This is ours - I don't want the food at home. I want this." His voice was soft, but there was a endge of a bite to his words.
Lucien wasn't getting this sparrow, and he wasn't going to listen. He'd eat the bird, no matter what. This wasn't just fresh meat, this was the first thing anyone had ever given him!
It was a gift from the Kestrel, end of story. He was going to eat it - and that was that. There was no room for arguing, as much as Lucien might want to try.
lithle Landing carefully on the raven's forearm, the kestrel tore off a piece of the sparrows flesh, gulping it down quickly. He wasn't hungry, but it seemed right that he and the raven should share this thing. That they should be joined by the flesh he had brought down.
I like to hunt. His only response to the thank you. Such graces were beyond him. It was enough that they both savored the meat, together, and allowed that to mean-- something. He wasn't sure quite what. Perhaps only that he could go beyond the instict of a raptor and share his prey.
The human startled him, though he supposed he should have expected it. Even he had his Fire One, though, as he still rode the winds, she couldn't follow him. That Xaxis too should have a companion, was something he should have thought of.
And it wasn't a problem, as long as the human didn't want a portion of the prey. It was only a sparrow, after all. Not much meat to go around.
Instead, the person seemed to want to take the prey away from Xaxis. That wasn't right. Clicking his beak in irritation, he refrained from comment. This was for the Raven to deal with, not him. Disinclined Xaxis was pleased that the kestrel would share. Another plank added to their slowly growing bridge of friendship. This was his first friend, really, other then the sing-songy one. But that bridge was small, and not quite fully developed. Still, it was a start - one of the two attempts had to work, hadn't they?
And yet, before he could even bother with gutting the sparrow, of fishing out some of its tender innerds and slurping them up, Lucien still insisted.
Insisted on taking it away, on not allowing him to eat.
That was wrong in Xaxis' head. He chose Lucien to grow with, not to be inhibited by queasiness. Whyever Lucien was throwing a fit now, Xaxis couldn't understand. Did he not want him to have friends? Did he not want him to share the bloody bird?
He used to eat carrion before - so why was this such a big deal?
Feeling a bit bolder, especially with the Kestrel's agitation known, Xaxis was ready to fight. Aloof and placid as he could be, the raven wasn't necessarily gentle or harmless.
There was bite behind him, though it be carefully hidden. It wasn't often his feathers were ruffled enough to make him bite, but there was good reason why he shouldn't be poked and prodded.
Lucien, on the other hand, didn't want to see his child eating a dead animal. This wasn't a movie, this wasn't a story of make believe, this was real.
He could see the blood stainig Xaxis' pale hands, and he felt his stomach churn. Lucien wasn't a queasy man, but he surely didn't like the thought of Xaxis eating raw meat. Birds weren't eaten like this. Years of morality, of animal rights, of humanity ran through him. He was trained not to like watching defenseless animals die, and even more so he was trained not to watch a child (sans wings or not!) EAT a newly killed bird.
Who knew how sick he could get? What if the sparrow had fleas or ticks or worms or lice? What if it was sickly and diseased? Then what!? "Xaxis, please, I really - I really don't think you should."
He wasn't used to fighting with his child, so it certainly was something new.
Xaxis was a good kid, so he'd learned. A bit different, sometimes, a bit quiet - but overall they got along. So why all the fuss now?
The raven didn't budge. Pulling his fingers out of the little body, he reached a hand up to lick at the warm blood. It was still hot, but it would quickly cool. The sparrow was small and didn't generate much heat for long after death, and it being winter didn't help the process.
He wanted to eat it now, before it got cold.
But Xaxis wasn't going to fight. Not with talons bared and wings spread. Oh no - he'd fight his war with a different tool. A tool called stubborness, a tool called apathy, a tool called 'I don't ******** care'.
Turning a deaf ear upon Lucien, with the Kestrel still perched upon his forearm, he very carefully headed back down the street. "I never learned how to hunt, not really," he explained to the raptor, wistfulness entering his voice.
"I could only feast on the remains others left behind. But sometimes I'd pretend!" He confided, memories of his previous life distant but there. It seemed so long ago, being a raven, circling over a carcass on the side of the road or allyway.
They couldn't hunt for themselves, but they surely were good at cleaning up after others. Death was always around, somewhere. Death was what kept the raven fed.
Lucien stared. He hadn't just been completely ignored, had he? Ugh. Part of the man felt sick - his boy had just LICKED sparrow blood! SPARROW BLOOD!
And now - now what? Did he berate the child? Did he take away with sparrow by force? Did he let him know who was in control and that he wasn't to be disobeyed?
Lucien gaped, not sure what to do. Who was the one in control?
Part of him really wasn't sure. lithle
If all were predators, there would be no prey. The reply was almost distracted, half the Kestrel's attention was on Lucien. He was getting annoyed. Hopefully the woman wouldn't be nearly so foolish. But she had struck him as practical, and meat was meat.
What sort of fool would try to take him from his prey?
Half streaching his wings, he snatched another bit of the sparrow, more to make a point to the man then out of hunger. See, it was good to eat. No reason for all the noise and panic.
I could chase him off for you, if you like. His talons, which held so carefully to the Raven's forearm, could do plenty of damage in a dive. Sure, he was small, but he could do his part. He could be dangerous.
Disinclined Xaxis kept his back turned to Lucien, wings puffed out a bit as if challenging the boy, HIS Boy, to actually do something. Stupid mortal. The sparrow was fresh meat, and more than that, it had been a gift. An offering from the kestrel, who needed not to hunt. This was their prize, and prizes (in his mind) shouldn't be taken away or revoked.
This was their's to share, truly, so Lucien just needed to back away.
Xaxis, who'd figured he'd be let alone, glanced down at the sparrow, reaching up to take a taste of the open wounds. The blood was still warm, sweet on his tongue. The familiar feeling, the sensation, changed only by his new stage of life.
It was heavenly, really. Nipping carefully, coming away with a mouthful of feathers and some stringy meat, the sight could easily be described as disturbing. Sparrows weren't meant to be devoured by human-looking boys - even those with wings.
When the kestrel offered to cut his Boy, Xaxis, licking his lips (blood still smearing his face), shook his head in denial. "That won't be necessary," he explained amicably, already forgetting about Lucien's big-to-do over the meat. "He just doesn't know what he's - "
That was it. Lucien, having gotten over his initial shock to Xaxis display of childhood stubborness and dominance, squared out his shoulders and glared.
No.
If this kid, this raven, was his responsibility, than this kid was going to LEARN exactly who was making money for them to survive. He didn't HAVE to feed the boy, he didn't HAVE to keep him in the apartment (regardless of what he feared Shanuh might do), and he certainly didn't HAVE to take any lip from this child!
Winged death child that he claimed to be, Lucien still paid the rent, and therefor, Lucien made the rules.
Part of the boy felt strange thinking that way (hadn't his foster-family abused that line?) but it was true. Stalking up to Xaxis, he thought nothing of the Kestrel and reached out to grab the boys shoulder, jerking him to a stop.
"Eat the god damned bird if you want, like hell if I care if you get sick and die, but we're going home." His eyes pinned. "NOW." He put on his most intimidating display (which really wasn't all that intimidating) and hoped upon hope that Xaxis would go without a fight.
He didn't release his shoulder, and from his vice-like-grip, he surely had no intention. "Tell your friend goodnight, and lets go."
God - he was turning into a parent, wasn't he? s**t.
Xaxis was horrified. What? Go home? Lucien couldn't make him go home - he was still playing! He wasn't done eating the sparrow, and the kestrel and him were only just getting to know each other!
Flapping his wings a bit, startled by being restrained, the little raven tried to jerk out of Lucien's grasp. Even though he was a tall boy, he surely was very thin and very weak. Fighting wasn't in his nature - though he could taunt, tease, and occassionally even give the appearance of being intimidating. Otherwise, he was a beanpole of a child, and Lucien (despite being just as thin) was still taller AND bigger.
"I don't want to go!" He snapped, all but dropping the sparrow in his moment of panic and fury.
This was unbelievable! Who did Lucien think he was!?
Lucien gave a snort, reaching his free hand over to grab Xaxis by the ear. "Come on," he pressured, "I said we're going!" Just let him try to squirm. He wasn't going to get far with his ear pinched.
Abusive? Hardly.
But the dark-haired boy wasn't going to stand for his bird to throw a tantrum. lithle Nature and instinct told the Kestrel to attack, to extend claws and hurt the man who was taking away his friend. He launched himself into the air, circling the fight below him, looking for a good angle for getting at the man's scalp.
But the Raven had told him not to. Had requested that he let things work themselves out. This hadn't been exactly what he'd been expecting.
But there would be other sparrows, on other days. He'd let this be. Fly back to Lithle. Later, later, they would hunt together again. He didn't want to intrude on the battle of another.
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Posted: Thu Jan 05, 2006 2:13 pm
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Posted: Thu Jan 05, 2006 2:14 pm
Complications:Michael's Problem Lithle sat, arms crossed, staring at Michael in disbelief. The Kestrel was perched in the rafters of 'Lost Here' watching them from his superior height. The uncanny intelligence he always showed made her feel like he was listening. That didn't make the situation any better.
Michael. Feral eyes of deep blue, grace like dancing when he moved. She could make out the bulge of at least one gun under his leather jacket and knew there were probably more. Even Lithle wore more, and she wasn't active anymore.
He was the man she would have fallen in love with, if she liked men. Pity about that.
She'd come to talk to him about the bird that'd adopted her. He'd said he had problems of his own.
His problem had blue hair with streaks of green, and untrusting grey eyes. She looked about eight years old.
"You've got to admit, it'd be crazy for me to keep her. With Tred and all... what if I got hurt? What if someone found me?" He'd always had charisma to go with his brute force, he was trying to use it now. Nearly pouting.
"Should have thought of that before you brought the kid home. Dammit, Michael, do I look like a mother to you?" Lithle only had force, anger and a need for justice. Her voice was a growl, rough as a dogs snarl. She didn't smile.
"The puppies seem to like you well enough."
"That's different. I can't be b***h to some toddler. I've got enough problems with the bird. How would I even afford a kid?"
The Kestrel seemed to take that as an invite, flying down to land in the center of the table, nearly knocking over Lithle's coffee. Lucky she knew Kevin, the manager. They were getting plenty of looks. Enough to make the hair at the back of her neck stand on end.
"C'mon. It's not like Tred doesn't still take care of you. And-- I'll see that her expenses are added into that. It'll be good for you. Since Cilere--"
"Don't even mention her. Just, don't."
"I worry about you Lithle. And what if you-- well, you know. Who'll get help?"
"Well, I worry about your sanity. And I've taken care of myself so far. What's the kids name?"
"I've been calling her Jer'ain."
"You would." A glance at the kid, who still clung to Michael's arm, her eyes now fixed on the Kestrel in mute facination. "You've got her in fishnets? What, you want people to think you've got a baby prostitute with you?"
"She came this way."
"Well, I guess the first thing I'll need is to buy her new clothes."
"So, you'll do it?"
"I hate you Michael."
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Posted: Fri Jan 06, 2006 12:32 pm
The elevator ride up to the Suite that Lithle occupied was as silent as the walk home had been. The kid seemed disinclined to talk, and Lithle really wasn't all that interested in asking questions. The Kestrel, for mysterious reason's all his own, had decided to ride the girl's shoulder home.
Maybe he liked her better. Maybe he was just curious.
A soft ding, and they were home. Torvald and Ulle rushed forward to swarm around their ankles, all fluff and curiousity. Scooping up one of the kittens, she pressed it firmly into Jer'ain's hands.
"That's Ulle. The other is Torvald." That covered it right? But no, there was still the Kestrel, who had launched himself off the girl's shoulder so that he could dive down at the remaining kitten, all threatening kree's and extended talons. Torvald hissed and hid under the sofa.
Lithle barely blinked. It happened a lot. Jer'ain, on the other hand, gasped and clung tighter to the kitten, looking at the Kestrel with none of the mute friendliness she'd shown before.
"Don't worry. It happens a lot."
"But!" there, a voice. Birdsong hesitant and that made her wince. Maybe she'd grow out of it. Either that, or Lithle'd go mad.
"Relax. C'mon, your room'll be down the hall." Thank the gods that her choices had been too small or huge. She at least had a place to put the child. Pushing open the door, she revealed... an absolutely empty square. Right. She had never bothered with a guest bedroom. "As soon as we buy you a bed. You can sleep on the couch tonight."
"Umm..." The girl had fallen still in the hallway, petting the kitten with absent fingers and biting her bottom lip.
"Yeah?" She did her best to look interested. But as she told Michael, she was no mother.
"I-- I picked him. Why didn't he want me?" Tears now, or the threat of them, in eyes as grey as Lithle's own.
Oh gods. It was like the script of a bad TV movie. Lithle wanted to gag, or scream. From the other room, she could hear Torvald yowling. Maybe the Kestrel had actually gotten a taste.
"Michael's stupid. He takes on projects he can't handle. He'll still be around, I promise." Reaching down, she ruffled the girl's hair lightly, "Men don't much think. Michael's better than most, but he's still male. You just have to learn to expect it."
The girl didn't look soothed, but at least she wasn't crying. Taking her hand, Lithle led her back into the living room. The Kestrel had found a perch on the lamp, and he was watching one particular cuboard. So that's where the kitten was.
"I'll get you something to sleep in, Kid. Tomorrow, we'll get you a bed. And some ******** clothes."
((Cut straight from Jer'ain's journal because I'm too lazy to rewrite it from the Kestrel's perspective. General point: Look, a girl lives in the house. And Lithle's a terrible parent.))
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Posted: Fri Jan 06, 2006 12:52 pm
There was a change in the air, something different. For a moment, Lithle couldn't place the change. What was it that was off?
Oh. The damned beast had finally had enough sense to shut up. Silence, blessed silence. That was a rarity nowadays, but with any luck the god-be-damned feathered beast had given up.
The kestrel, on the other hand, hadn't stopped screaming out of choice. It had happened because sometimes, when death decides your time is up, your time is up. There's was no room for the Kestrel, not anymore. The feathers weren't needed, the talons and hooked-beak. There was no more use for screaming, no more need to flutter and flap and beat his wings.
Instead, there was a need for growth, for change.
Taking a moment to figure out his new body, Savius flapped his little wings and tested out the movement of his body. He was surely taller, much bigger, and had more range in movement. More digits - fingers and toes - a different feel.
This would be perfect. Scooping up his dead corpse, the boy decided now he could scream with more vigor and this time, with words.
Turning to the woman, a little mischievious smile crossed his features. Taking a deep breath, he resumed his screaming. "HEY~! Check me out! I GREW!" For being a thin little boy, he surely had quite the set of lungs.
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Posted: Mon Jan 09, 2006 8:28 pm
Lithle was, to say the least, unprepared for unexpected voices in her apartment. Sure, she could deal with the Kestrel's screams and was learning to accept the childish voice of Jer'ain. But there were no boys voices, not outside the music.
"HEY~! Check me out! I GREW!"
She turned so fast that she nearly fell out of her chair, slipping and jumping to her feet. The boy was wild looking, with vivid amber eyes and his hair held back with a red bandana. There was a sense of danger about him, and familiarity as well. The body of the Kestrel was still in his hands.
"What the ********?!?" She shouted, taking a step backward. There was no reaching for a gun, not here, not with a child. She wasn't going to hurt him. But she definately wanted to know how the hell he'd gotten into her house.
"I said I grew!" He continued to shout, though they were only feet from each other. A quick toss, and the body of the Kestrel fell at his feet. "Left the winds behind. I want my own bedroom."
Wait, what? Glancing down at the body, she saw it. The wings. The boy had the Kestrel's wings. And she could feel the same tug, the same-- something. His eyes were so very gold.
"You're him, aren't you?"
"The name is Savius. Sa-vi-us! Got it?" He turned, putting his back to her, "I'm going to go find my room now."
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2006 9:12 am
The children were nestled all snug in their beds... and thank god. What the hell had happened in her life that she had just tucked two children in? Jer'ain, sweet, quiet and clingy. Savius, loud, and short tempered. She hadn't so much tucked him in as watched him stride into his room and slam the door.
Well, whatever.
"Hey Mom! I'm going out!" He called to her, as he pulled her long coat on.
Wait, what? Hadn't he gone to bed? It was almost midnight.
Mom?!?
"Hell no, Kid. Stop, there!" Lithle strode across the room and placed herself between Savius and the door, "You're not going out this late. And I'm not your mother."
"C'mon. Mother, Mom, Madre, Mere, Mutter, Mommy--" He grinned at her, all charm, but the light behind his eyes was a challenge. "I've got things to do."
"Listen, Savius. I don't give a ******** whether you get a good night sleep. But you look about ten years old. That's easy prey. You go out there, you're gonna get yourself killed. And I am not your mother."
"Fine. Daddy, Papa, Father, Padre, Vater. You do have the guy look going." Reaching to his belt, he held up the wooden sword he'd made himself, "Check it out, I can defend myself."
"Kid, that's a wooden sword."
"Well Daddy, if you'd let me take one of your guns..."
"You're not going out, you're not taking my gun, and I am not your parent!"
"Should I call you aunty then?" He tried reaching around her for the doorknob, and got his hand slapped for the attempt.
"You should shut up and go to bed!"
"I'M GOING OUT!" His voice rapidly raising to a scream, all kidding gone.
He reached for the door again, kicking her hard in the shin as he did so. The sword was held out like it might really be a weapon. Lithle, felt the pain like a shock, but it was still familiar. She didn't let the wince show.
Furious, she grabbed his wrist, pulling the sword roughly away from him. "You're going to bed, Kid."
Scooping him up, she pinned his wrists and threw him over her shoulders, so she could hold both his hands and feet. Those teeth were a threat in their own right, but she didn't let him pull her hand close enough. Feathers were everywhere from the frantic flapping of wings.
Only one room in the house locked from the outside, locked from either side, and it was empty as mourning. The walls were white, and the only furniture was a kingsize mattress on the floor. Funny how one issue might help another. Tossing him none to gently on the mattress, she exited the room before he had a chance to stand up. She turned the key quickly, just in time for him to try the knob.
"You want me to get you a blanket and pillow, kid?"
It was going to be a long night.
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Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2006 1:49 pm
"Hey Michael." Lithle let herself drop roughly into a chair, running her fingers through her hair to keep it away from her eyes. She felt like she'd been hit by a truck. Savius had calmed, somewhat, and Jer'ain hardly made a noise, but it was still- too much. They rubbed against her nerves like sand paper, and lately-- she felt like she was falling again.
And there was no where to breathe. Before, when it'd gotten to be too much, she had just let it break, had let herself shatter for a night, just so she could hold herself together again in the morning.
It didn't help that the morning had been taken up by pain and well-- pain. Fire and acid and she could still feel it burning through her. Lovely. Just ******** lovely. And Savius had been all questions and curiousity about what the screaming was about. So now what? She couldn't help the fits, and she couldn't help the shattering. But she couldn't do either and she felt like she was winding down inside. Breaking down.
"You look half dead, b***h. Hard day?" He'd already ordered them drinks, and Lost Here was all abandoned in the early afternoon. So they could sit, talk, and relax. Except for Savius and Jer'ain. The latter colouring quietly in a colouring book, the former hanging around the counter, talking to Kyle. Michael kept looking at them, "So he's really the Kestrel?"
"As far as I can tell, yeah. And so the guy who gave him to me tells me."
"I can't see you as a Mommy."
"You should never have given me Jer'ain then."
"That was different." He smiled at the girl, reaching over to mess up her hair gently, earning himself a wide smile.
"Yeah, well Savius is a whole 'nother ball game of different. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about." He'd finished up talking to Kyle, and was heading over to the pinball machine. Lovely. He'd talked or threatened the poor man out of a handful of quarters. Either that or he was stealing money from her, but it didn't seem his style.
"What can I do for you?" He asked, flashing another of his 'winning' smiles. Lithle just rolled her eyes.
"I need Fen."
"Fen? You told me you didn't have the room for Fen. Besides-- he's not like he used to be. He snaps at anyone who gets to close to him." Fen brought on thoughts of the old days, running the streets, all of them. When the two of them had still been free. Michael still was. Lithle tried not to show it.
"You don't treat him right." She said, roughly. And he didn't. He treated Fen like-- like a dog. Which, regardless of the facts, just didn't work. "He's not like the others. And I have room now."
"Well, you're the b***h. What's that got to do with bird boy?" He nodded toward Savius, the child in question completely engrossed in his pinball game.
"He's a wanderer. I'm getting him a guard."
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Posted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 5:19 pm
Part TwoBabysitting: Part Three "Savius, Jer'ain, get your asses out here!" Lithle snapped impatient. Kyle sat on the sofa, sipping at a glass of coke, his daughter and Michael's talking to each other in low voices. When had they all become parents? This was insane. They'd been warriors, wild and sharp and dangerous. And now? Kyle was injured. She was... discharged. Michael still lead, but he spent his mornings playing 'daddy' to a pale skinned albino bat girl.
Was this what their lives had come to? ******** thought of Cilere, involuntary. She would have loved it, would have embraced the children in a way Lithle would never be capible of doing. But Cilere was dead. And Lithle had no choice these days but to keep living, keep feeling. Even if it sometimes felt like all she had left was anger."Dad, this is stupid." Savius growled, stomping into the living room, eyes flashing with fire and life. Anger for anger, and Lithle could almost smile to see him so furious. Almost. "You let me go all over the city by myself. I do not need a babysitter.""Shut up, Birdy." She snapped back, glancing behind him to make sure Jer'ain had come out as well. The young girl wore a torn pair of jeans and a simple T-shirt, Torvald was cuddled in her arms. "I let you go out with Fen. I'm taking him with me. And there's Jer'ain too."
"Sissy? She'll be fine with me." Reaching out, Savius tugged the softspoken girl close to him, ruffling her short colourful hair and grinning dangerously."I-- I can take care of things. I don't want to be a problem." Jer'ain added, in her birdsong voice, shaking her head to straighten her hair and pushing Savius lightly away. Lithle had no doubt that the girl could handle anything thrown at her. Except Savius. Which was where Kyle came in.
"That's enough. Brats, this is Kyle. Kyle, these are my brats." She gestured briefly to the kids, reaching for Savius's arm and tugging the Kestrel roughly into the room. Where he went, 'rain would follow. She could count on that much. "As you can see, they are in one complete piece. I'd prefer if they returned in a simular condition."
"I'll see what I can do, b***h." Kyle replied, grinning insolently at her. It was enough. He was pack. He'd take care of them. And he seemed to be doing well enough with his own kid.
"Nice to meet you." Jer'ain peeked out from behind Savius as she spoke, examining the other girls curiously. "I'm Jer'ain.""I'm Earako. And this is Isabel!" The bat girl responded, pointing enthusiastically toward the blue skinned 'fae' that Kyle was raising. "We're playing 'magination. You can too." Well, Lithle'd had just about enough of the sweetness and light. Trusting Kyle to lock up, she whistled for Fen. "Later.""Yeah, later."Part Four
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Posted: Tue Mar 28, 2006 9:46 am
Part Six
Babysitting: Part Seven
This One Goes Out to the One I Love
"Well, kid? They can have a second artist work on you while your sisters getting done. You gonna go through with it?" Kyle looked down at him, grinning.Savius grinned right back. He felt a bit feral, and wasn't sure why. This was a normal thing, a mortal thing, but he felt wild. It was a familiar feeling. An old feeling. "Hell yeah." He replied, trying to sound hard. "I'm ready.""Whatcha getting?" Earako asked, a breathy little question by his ear. Scanning the wall a second time, Savius pointed to his choice. A shield with a pair of swords crossed behind it. His own swords hung comfortably at his side, and he knew the symbols were right. He only needed to make one adjustment. "I'm gonna have them write 'Dad' on it."
"Lithle'll kill you. You realize that?" Kyle asked him, and Savius puffed up with pride.
"Yeah. There'll be fire when she sees it." There would be, too. His companion would be furious. She fought so hard against the ties of family that Savius insisted on. Fought and fought, and all the fighting just kept her alive. Sometimes the fight was all that kept her alive. He saw it, and made war for it. Sometimes, he knew, war was necissary for survival."You love to piss her off, don't you?""'s good for her." Savius shrugged, laid back, easy. He was being gestured at, it was his turn. And he knew, of course, that it was about more than just anger. It was a symbol. Of was and would be. For him. Maybe for both of them...
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