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 Posted: Sat Apr 07, 2007 4:49 pm
The sun set later on the House that day, another sign of spring's rapid approach. The orange glow filtered through the tiny droplets that sprayed everywhere, filling the air with a thick mist. While it wasn't quite what one could call rain, it was increasingly uncomfortable with night fast approaching, and the air cooling rapidly.
And the House waited, with its doors open, and a single light in a first floor window.
His smile, not pronounced, not overzealous, still was firmly, if softly, happy. A whistled jukebox tune rippled expertly from pursed lips, a guitar case dangled carelessly from long fingers, and a jaunty step hinted that the tip jar had indicated tonight's performance was a success. The long walk back home hadn't yet taken its toll on him, even in this sketchy weather -- nor had Taka's sour mood once he arrived.
A light on a slight hill caught his attention. Most of the homes slumbered, occupants safely inside for the night, but this one burned one light in a window, and the front doors stood wide.
Surely no one would leave the door open on purpose like that. With slight trepidation (He wouldn't want to be mistaken for a burgler!) the rather angelic figure made his way toward the light, his intention for a good deed plain on his boyish face.
Baxter Green didn't like magic. He hated it, in fact. He would have moved completely off of Gaia if he'd had the money to go. Fox boys and chicks with wings... ha! He preferred good old fashioned humans and normal, everyday animals that couldn't stand up and talk to you. You never knew what you were shooting at around here. Not that you were allowed to shoot much of anything most of the time. Even if he didn't respect the ones who made them, if there was one thing Baxter always did, it was follow the rules.
Sunset found him venturing home from an all-day trek through the horse trails and sparse woodland of the area. Everything had been just fine until this god-awful fog had descended. As much as he might have wanted to, he couldn't keep going in this mess. Baxter squinted as a sudden spot of light came into view. A porch maybe? Somewhere he could sit and wait until this mess cleared. He ran a hand through his wet, thinning auburn hair and plodded toward the House.
"Ugh...this is going to ruin my makeup." Crescentia grumbled, staring at the ground as she walked. She hated not walking with an air of confidence but...she hated being in public with running makeup! Her tarot cards hadn't mentioned rain today, not even misty rain that was more like bits of sugar going through a strainer. Although with mist usually came more rain! The gypsy stopped in her tracks for a minute to give her surroundings a quick look, twirling some blue beads on her necklace around her finger. She couldn't just go 'Well I don't feel like walking home so I'll just POOF and end up in my living room!' that bit of magic didn't work that way. She couldn't enter buildings like that!
She did, of course, hear the whistling. Ooh, a man! Perhaps he could be a gentleman and offer some sort of covering like an umbrella or...or just walk into a strange old house in need of an extreme rennovation. Maybe he lived there? Oh well, she'd just...follow him inside! Yeah! He looked nice, maybe he wouldn't care if she just went waltzing in looking for a bit of shelter. He'd left his doors wide open anyway! And there was another man walking up anyway! This could be fun...
Crescentia nodded confidently to herself, jumping over the fencing that she was standing beside and hurrying after the man with her arms protectively covering her head from the pathetic excuse for rain.
The inside of the house appeared harmless enough. There were no lights in the entryway, but through the gloom it was just possible to make out a few picture frames on the walls, and a table with a lamp just inside the door. But the light still shone in the side room, indicating somebody's presence in another part of the house. Possibly.
He turned at the sound of footsteps behind him. People approaching the house! He grimaced, looking equally abashed, and hallooed. They'd probably only gone to their car for something.
"I'm sorry, do you live here? I saw the door open and I thought it had to be accidental in this weather. I was coming up to close it..." He trailed off. His voice was much deeper than his face would have suggested, with an almost smoky edge.
Lively blue eyes squinted into the gloom as he waited for them to catch up to him, uncomfortably aware that he smelled like nightclub. He'd be glad for a shower in more ways than one; he was actually wet now, and the air had a bitter bite to it tonight.
A man and a woman, he thought, reinforcing his earlier conclusion. He did manage to look a little pathetic as he stood arms folded across his chest, guitar case on the sidewalk. Maybe that would earn him some slack. He was, after all, tresspassing.
Baxter tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "Not my house, no," he muttered. "I was just coming up here to dry off." But I think I'll be going now that you two are here. "Uh, it looks like there's someone inside," he said instead. "Maybe we should tell them to close their own door." He stepped nearer to the House to make room for Crescentia as he brushed at his sleeves.
Crescentia hopped up onto the porch to hurry up and get out of the rain, brushing droplets of water out of her hair. Great, now it was going to be cold and damp! She frowned when she heard the first thing the man she'd been following asked. "Uh...no...I thought you did so I was going to ask if I could come in!" She laughed softly and rubbed at the back of her neck. Might as well pretend to be bashful.
"Well if they left their door open they're just asking for someone to come in!" The gypsy smiled sweetly and slipped between the two men to get closer to the door. Sometimes it's nice to be small. "Can't be rude if someone is that hospitable!" Geeze. She'd make a good burglar.
Although just because she was getting closer to the door didn't mean she was stupid. She'd let the men be brave and go in first.
Of all times to be lost in the rain, it was now. Trinityblue had a very undeveloped sense of direction, especially in new places, like the one she was in now. On top of being lost, she was now wet and getting wetter by the minute. Her hands were shoved deeply into her pockets, while the hood of her sweater tried to protect her from the falling drops of water. The hood also covered the cat-like ears on the side of her head while her tail was curled around her waist, under the sweater.
There was one house along this path with a light still on. Looking at it, there were people standing on the porch, talking about something or other that she couldn’t quiet make out. However, if there were people here, maybe they knew where on Gaia she was! Then she could get home.
With that in mind, she also jumped the fence that was there, and made her way up to the hill.
It would be a quartet, then, and not just a trio. The House was pleased.
Several seconds later, a fanfare trumpeted loudly from inside the house. A light flickered on towards the back of the hallway, projected on one of the side walls, and giving the definite impression of a television, though it was impossible to be sure from the porch.
He laughed at the woman's obvious chagrin at not finding him to be the owner -- and even more dubious ethics. She was pretty, in a vaguely wild way. He liked the older man's suggestion a wee bit better.
"Yeah, definitely does sound like someone's inside," the young man responded pleasantly, after a decided start at the sudden noise. Putting his guitar case against the house so it wouldn't be tripped over, he poked his head inside.
"Halloooooo?" Nothing. Not surprisingly, even with the resonance of his voice. That music was earsplitting. Gritting his teeth against the noise, he ventured a few steps inside, and called again. The light framed him in a warm glow, water sparking prismatically off his almost white-blond curls. It suited him in some irrational way.
Still nothing. He turned back to those gathered on the porch, shrugging a little. "What now? I don't want to wander through this person's house and end up shot at because I just wanted them to know their door was closed." He made a face, offset by his good-humored eyes. He shivered a little. "It is a bit warmer in here though." The musician laughed at himself this time. "Who's going to be brave and go first? The first one through is the one who takes the bullet," he joked. Sort of.
Baxter held his breath and winced at the noise, the first action keeping him from rolling his eyes as well as preventing a sigh. Normally he wouldn't have gone rifling through people's houses, but if it got all of these overly concerned young people off of the porch so he could sit and rest, he would risk getting shot. Obviously the person inside was just playing with them anyway.
"I'll come with," he said. "Hell, I'll even go first. I've lived a good life." He stepped inside and moved past the younger man and further into the hall.
Her eyes widened at the sudden fanfare but she refused to show any other signs of surprise other than that. If she jumped and screamed like a little girl these men would probably think of her as one. "Why it's the royal treatment!" She joked, taking a tiny step back to let the younger of the men peek into the house.
"But elders are wise and respected. It's a shame to let one risk death." The gypsy pouted.
...She didn't even know either of their names. Where were their manners? Crescentia leaned back against the wall next to the door and crossed her arms across her chest, squinting her eyes when she suddenly noticed movement. "...Huh, hey wait...maybe she's the owner?" She pointed at the woman running up to the house.
The other female made it up to the porch, stopping just at the edge and just in time to hear the question. “Um, no, I’m just lost. Could anyone tell me where I am?” she asked, rather embarrassedly.
Then she noticed the noise, and how the older of the two men was starting for the door. It was also noted that they were wet like she was. Were they lost to? Oh that would just be lovely. Everyone lost and standing on the porch of a house who’s door was die open.
What was going on in there, anyway?
Another fanfare. This one was even louder and more persistent, and the flickering on the wall suddenly brightened just enough to illumiate the hallway. Other than the picture frames and the table with the lamp, it looked empty, but there was clearly a door at the other end that was open, waiting.
Long musician's hands clapped over his ears, the young man spoke louder than was necessary. "C'mon, let's get this over with." He didn't wait for the older man who'd volunteered to lead but, he somewhat sourly noted, had not actually taken any initiative.
"By the way, I'm Angel," he called over his shoulder with an enigmatic smile, almost as though there was something funny about what he'd just said, or some inside joke. Turning back, he reached the doorway, but after the gloom of the hallway, it was too bright to immediately see.
Wincing again and grinding his teeth together painfully at the noise, the man replied, "Baxter," loud enough for the women to hear. He followed behind, more slowly, thinking that maybe the owner of this place needed a lesson on noise pollution. Or a punch. He stopped a few paces behind Angel and waited.
Crescentia shrugged. "No idea, sorry. You're at...a creepy old house in need of a new security system and a complete rennovation?" She fussed with her hair a little to make sure it wasn't frizzing from the weather. "Just came to get out of the rain..."
The woman gasped and jumped away from the wall when another fanfare sounded, staring wide-eyed down the hallway visible through the door. "Either someone's deaf or we're being invited in." She put a hand over her heart to wait for it to calm, grinning. "Pleasure to meet you, Baxter, Angel. I'm Crescentia." Blinking, she watched the men walk away and into the building. Crescentia pouted and stood in front of the door.
"I'm at least going to be nice and wait for...um...what's your name?" Smooth, Crescentia. Real smooth.
"Trinityblue," the late one answered even as she covered her ears from the fanfare, "nice to meet you." Then she looked into the hall, where the lights and sounds were coming from. Curiosity was winning over the fact it was morally wrong to enter a house uninvited. Besides, who ever owned the house left the door wide opened, inviting them in, right?
"I think we should check in on whoever lives here," she said, starting to get a small headache from it all.
Once everyone had stepped inside, yet another fanfare sounded, this one softer and seemingly more distant. In its last bars it gave way completely to tinkling piano music, and the light stopped flickering, remaining steady while the quartet made their way down the hall.
Then, as they neared the door, there was a sound that was startlingly like a gunshot. Less than a second later, the light abruptly went out. If one tried to find the door in the pitch black, they would find that both the door and the walls had mysteriously vanished.
The volume lessened. Had the owner finally heard them, and turned down the tube to investigate? But no. The pomp and blare of the fanfare faded away to soft notes on a piano, hesitant almost, as if the musician played from memory and for his own pleasure only.
The soothing effect lasted only moments; Angel had nearly reached the door.
BLAM! Half a swear word ground out between his teeth as the lights simultaneously went out, and he was left desperately regretting his ill-timed jokes only minutes ago.
Instinct drove him ducking to the left, out of line of fire from the doorway, and leaning against the wall. "Easy," he was shouting at the unseen shooter.
Except...there was nothing where the wall should have been. He fell backward, hard, onto a floor caked with dust that clung to his damp clothes and hair. He lay still, afraid of what he might bump into if he tried to rise. He must have become even more disoriented in the dark than he'd realized.
When the lights went out, Baxter remained still save for an unintentional flinch. The sound of a gunshot indoors was somewhat troubling, but he didn't feel any pain or the sick gush of blood pouring from any new holes, so everything was probably okay for now. He crouched low, trying to get out of the way in case there was a rogue shooter in the room somehow, but he still didn't move and so remained unaware that the walls were suddenly missing.
"Is everyone all right?" he asked. His voice was lower than he expected with no walls to bounce the sound back at him.
Her smile returned. "What a unique name. C'mon, let's hurry before the men ditch us." Crescentia said, grabbing Trinity's hand and hurrying in after Angel and Baxter. "I'm sure that whoever lives here won't mind us coming in. We're just...warning them of the dangers of leaving their doors open!" She said cheerfully as she let go of the other woman's hand once they'd caught up with the men.
Crescentia jumped a little when she heard the first note of the fanfare sound...but it was so soft and pretty this time. That was weird. Someone must've had a marching band! Haha. The gunshot did a little more than startle her though, screaming and throwing her arms around Baxter--since he was in front of her--to hide behind him. They were being shot at! But had anyone been hit? She heard someone hit the ground and gasped, letting go of the older man to look around. Wow...she'd either gone blind or the owner of the house had cut the power. "This is just like one of those horror movies." The gypsy laughed, waving her arms out in front of her to try and find the doorway they were heading for.
...Geeze...had they not been as close to the door as they thought?
"Uh...I am, but I heard someone hit the floor. Angel? Trinity?"
"I’m good," Trinity answered, having thrown herself on the ground at the gun shot and her tail was nor longer hidden, but stuck straight up in air. This was like some haunted house! Would it eat them… or something equally horrible? In her life, she wouldn’t doubt this happening. "Is everyone else alright?"
Then she turned to reach for the air, only to grab air in the darkness. "Uhhh… there’s no door."
"You're late!" a stern voice said from somewhere in the darkness. There was another sharp crack, this one of a whip, and the lights flickered back to life.
The formerly dust-covered floor was now polished to a shine, and the walls had relocated themselves so that the intruders were in the center of a large room. Two walls had round bars attached to them, one at hip level, the other a foot above that. The third wall was a giant mirror, with a set of straight cracks forming a rectangle that might have indicated a door.
There was no fourth wall. Instead, the room gave way to a giant pit of sand. It appeared to go on forever, under a sky that looked decidedly artificial, too low to be real and painted with fat, unmoving clouds.
"Stand up straight!" The voice came from a middle-aged woman standing where the two sets of bars intersected. She wore her wispy black hair in a tight bun, and a tight pink leotard made her figure- or lack thereof- perfectly clear. There was a whip hanging from her bony hand, and she cracked it again, lips pursed. "I don't want to tell you again!"
Angel had risen to a sitting position at the sound of others' voices, deciding if anybody was gonna be shot, it'd be the people talking and not him. He was still scrambling to his feet at "You're late!" when the lights returned. They were expected in the first place?
What he saw then was truly bizarre, something out of Alice in Wonderland. If, you know, Alice in Wonderland had had aged dominatrix ballet teachers.
He said nothing at first, merely stared at the woman after a brief incredulous glance at all his companions. It might have been the light, but though his face was still very clearly his face, he seemed older. His eyes were no longer smiling, either; perhaps that was it. Instead of a cheerful youth, he looked a serious man.
"I hope," he said slowly and distinctly to the woman, "you have no dreams of making me into your next star pupil." The absurdity of him trying to get any part of his body besides maybe an elbow on those bars struck him forcibly, and the youthful glimmer was back in his face as he cracked a smile in spite of the situation. "I think you'll be very very disappointed, ma'am."
Baxter's reaction to Crescentia's panicked grabbing more than made up for any lack of response on his part to the darkness and the gunfire. He was still trying to catch his breath when the lights returned and some bony hag threatened the four of them with a whip. He backed up, unknowingly inching closer to the sand pit he failed to see in the mirror and wasn't facing, and noticed Trinityblue's tail along the way. His eyes squeezed shut as he stopped moving and he graciously decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, as long as she didn't touch him. At all. That went for any of these freaks.
"I. Don't. Dance," he rasped. Still... Anyone that could make walls disappear and rooms with no exits grow to ridiculous sizes in the blink of an eye probably deserved some respect. He planted his feet and his back straightened ever so slightly.
Late? Crescentia stopped where she was and looked around for the source of the voice, although she knew this attempt was futile since the lights were--OH GOD THEY WERE ON AGAIN. The gypsy winced and covered her eyes since they'd adjusted to the pitch black darkness from before. She gave herself a minute before she opened her eyes again and looked around.
...What the hell? It looks like a dance studio with a giant desert invading one side of it. Oh hey! A mirror! The gypsy smiled wide and checked herself out in it, doing a little spin to make sure everything was still in tact. Ugh! There was dust on her pants! She was about to bend down and brush the dust off when an older woman in a tacky leotard suddenly yelled at them to stand up straight. The sudden yell was enough to startle her to a standing position. Why was she holding a whip?! Dance instructors didn't use whips! Oh well...maybe it was just an intimidation factor. Some people were so strange.
"Ooh! Dancing! I love dancing!" The gypsy cheered, clapping her hands and jumping for joy. She frowned when Angel told the woman she would be extremely disappointed if she expected him to dance. Her frown deepend when Baxter just out and out told her he didn't dance. Oh dear...she wasn't the only one who could dance, was she? Maybe TB could dance! She pouted and put her hands on her hips, looking at the bars that Angel felt he'd never reach. "Oh, come on. Anybody can dance if instructed properly!"
“Only if it includes tripping over your own feet and falling flat on your face,” Trin answered, giving the other female a crooked grin. Having seen end bits of Crescentia clinging to Baxter was funny. Till the fact that bright light after pitch blackness hurt the eyes kicked in.
She had her own theory about this sceen. “I think we’re all dead and this is some bazaar limbo that we’re now in.” How else were you going to explain the lady with the whip, in a dance room that ended in a desert.
The teacher didn't seem to be pleased by the reactions she was getting, and she cracked her whip again. "Such impudence! You're not even dressed properly! Off now, and I expect to see you in the correct attire in five minutes."
Marching over to the break in the mirror, she pushed it lightly, and watched as it fell inwards and shattered. This did not faze her in the slightest, and she pointed at the room. From the studio, it was just possible to see a costume rack inside, though it was difficult to make out what exactly was hanging from it.
"Go on, now, before I get cross." The whip cracked again, and the teacher did not seem to be open to negotiation.
The last crack had positioned the whip unsettlingly near his behind. Angel scooted to the costume rack, and began flipping through the hangars, gingerly avoiding the broken glass that had spewed everywhere and tinkled and crunched beneath his feet. They contained, he found, a whole lot of spandex and a whole lot of tulle. What they didn't seem to contain was anything remotely designed for the male body.
"Um, I don't think-" He met the mentally dubbed Balleratrix's cold, cold stare. He understood this weird fantasy well enough (He knew he hit his head when he fell, but honestly...) to know that she wouldn't care.
He pulled out a rack at random: a red leotard with a short skirt tied around it. Not about to strip with everyone watching, with a look of resigned martyrdom he stepped into it while still fully dressed, pulling it up over the pants and white buttonup he wore.
He refused to look in the mirror as he emerged, but he cracked a joke anyway. "I don't think red's my colour," he observed, managing a boyish grin in spite of everything.
Hands fisted at his sides, Baxter cut a wide circle around the others and entered the jagged glass 'doorway.' The costumes presented to him weren't the most masculine affairs either, but at least there were a few that weren't skin tight. He took his time taking off his damp jacket and transferring his house keys and wallet from it to his pants pockets before he reached out and angrily snatched what seemed to be a sleeveless tankini top made for a morbidly obese, colorblind shut-in. The shirt sported a mass of ruffles around its neck that from far away, kind of looked like a neck brace. The MC Hammer balloon pants that followed were almost pleasant-looking by comparison.
Like Angel, Baxter slipped his new outfit on over his clothing before rejoining his fellow captives in the larger room.
Crescentia blinked. They weren't dressed properly? The gypsy looked at herself in the mirror once more...there was a 'proper' dance attire? Weird. She'd thought the entire affair was about expressing one's self through any means necessary...what a silly woman! Haha!
The crashing glass didn't surprise as much as she thought it would, glancing at the two men to see how they would react to be told to change their clothes as she followed them in. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure TB was following safely as well. "Augh! How tacky!" Crescentia whined as she plucked a random tutu off the rack. Who in their right mind would wear such a thing?! She looked up when Angel and Baxter seemed to pick out what they were wearing, not holding back any laughter at how absolutely ridiculous they looked putting the costumes on over their clothes.
Once her laughter subsided she turned back to the clothes left to choose from. Well...there was an ugly sparkly leotard here. She took that. Then she found a sheer green skirt to put over that. "Mmph...this will have to do." Unfortunately Crescentia didn't understand the concept of shame and modesty...just changing out of her clothes and into the leotard and skirt right there before slipping her shoes back on so she could walk over the glass.
"I would like to have a word with the maker of these so called 'outfits' when this is over." She grumbled, glaring at her reflection in the mirror. At least she could enjoy the dancing...and watching the men look like idiots just from what they were wearing. "Nope, red isn't your color. I'm surprised you picked the skirt and not some pants like Baxter."
“Oh dear!” Trin said, stepping in the way of the view between the boys and where Crescentia had stripping to put on one of the gaudy outfits on. She had been following, and found what the boys to have done amusing. Something she would have to do as well, not being as brave as Crescentia.
But she did face another problem. None of these outfits had tail holes, a necessity to her. This meant that not only would she have to show how bad she was at dancing, but her tail would be hindered in helping her balance. Once the other girl was dressed, she grabbed something bright teal and pink.
After taking off the sweater-jacket, she put it on over her clothes. “I’m not near as brave as you, girl. I’ll just do it this way,” she stated. Then she looked at her backside. Her tail was again wrapped around her waist, and now budging. She put the sweater back on over the top of it.
The teacher watched them, seemingly satisfied with their cooperation. When they had all dressed, she walked up and down in front of them, scrutinizing each outfit carefully. When she was done she clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "You have potential, I admit. But you need these before you can learn from me."
Reaching behind the rack, she pulled out four coats, each covered with frills and gold trim and each more fancy than the last. Without separating them, she tossed the whole pile at the nearest person. "Now these are what you need. Put them on, and meet me at the bar in five minutes. Or else."
With a final threatening crack of the whip, the teacher left, closing the door behind her with an audible click.
To say that seeing everyone don outrageously ghastly outfits just because a woman with a whip told them to was surreal, was the understatement of the century. He actually clapped a hand over his mouth when he turned to scope out Baxter's new look.
"Man..." He didn't even know what to say. He knew he couldn't look any better, but that was quite possibly the single most unflattering thing the man could have put on. His laughter was unsuccessfully suppressed.
He simply averted his eyes as he found Crescentia half undressed; from his usual demeanor he might have been expected to blush, but he didn't seem particularly discomfited. "I would have worn the pants if I'd seen them," he retorted defensively before glancing at Baxter again. "...I think." This time he positively guffawed. "I'm sorry man, I don't mean to, to be rude," he managed through tears.
The coats were dropped unceremoniously near his feet. Once again, none the most manly, though it hardly mattered at this point; he had no dignity left. Might as well play this thing out to the fullest, and maybe even have some fun.
He picked a purple and yellow patchwork one with lace sleeves and a collar that looked like it had once been a blue feather boa. "To bring out my eyes and my manly physique," he explained, keeping as straight a face as he could manage as he stood near the bars.
"I wouldn't laugh," Baxter said, keeping his eyes off of Crescentia as she changed from one strange outfit to another. His face screwed up into one of his unpleasant half smiles once again as Angel laughed, only this time it was more of a grin than a grimace. "You look horrible." Well, the whole situation was kind of funny if he pretended it wasn't happening to him. For the second time that evening he crouched instead of bending at the waist, not trusting his surroundings or his back not to turn on him. He chose a coat, not that it was much of a choice at all, and slid his arms into the sleeves. His spot at the bar was quite a ways away from Angel, and he hoped the rest of them were wise enough to keep their distance.
"You all look horrible," Baxter muttered. He scratched at his neck and tried to keep his head down as he waited to see what more could possibly happen. He hoped he was dead, because that was the only way this was making any sense.
"Brave?" Crescentia asked with genuine confusion. How had she been brave? She tapped at her chin to try and think back on anything brave she'd done.
...Nope...nothing came to mind.
The teacher caught her attention again when she said they had potential. What? She didn't need to learn how to dance from some crazy old hag with a whip! Crescentia's disapproval only showed by the dark glare the woman was given when she turned her back to get the coats.
Oh hey, those were some fancy coats.
..Why did they need coats to 'learn' to dance? This chick was weird. It wouldn't take them five minutes to put on a coat and walk over to a bar! Crescentia sighed and looked around, her gaze stopping on TB when she noticed the awkward bulge in her outfit. "You going to be alright with your tail wrapped up like that?" Tails were vital for balance, after all...if you had one.
"At least there aren't any cameras around." Crescentia said in an attempt to comfort the humiliated men, eyeing the coats that were sitting at Angel's feet.
"Purple and feathers are the highest quality of masculine attire...unfortunately that was the only one that matched me." She sighed and crouched down besides the jacket to pick at the two that were left. Eh...the orange one with teal trimming and puffy cloth coming out of the end of the sleeves like a jacket you'd see in a Renaissance movie would have to do. Not like they were being judged by how well they looked.
“I’ll be okay, it’s just uncomfortable, that’s all,” Trin told her, taking the last coat that was left. At least being last in this thing meant no big decisions! That made her happy. “And I have to agree to the camera thing. This would be so embarrassing if other people saw us like this,” she muttered. But it would be worse for the guys, honestly. That thought just made her grin as she looked at them.
Then she went to pick a place at the bar. True, the older man didn’t like her one bit, and that made her want to get closer, just to annoy him. It had to be that cat side of her. The more you didn’t want one to be around, he more they were and vise versa. She was trying to resist that urge, so, she kept around Crescentia instead.
Despite the fact that the "pupils" had taken their places, the teacher was nowhere to be seen. Unfortunately for them, that did not mean that she could not be heard.
"Can't you follow simple instructions?" she said angrily. "I said to come to the bar! Don't make me come and get you!"
For a brief moment, her head poked through the mirror as if it was as insubstantial as water. Then, with a disapproving stare, she pulled herself back in. The entire mirror turned an opaque black, and the space where the door had been disappeared- though strangely enough, the knob remained, as if floating in a void. It was spinning slowly, making its four multicolored quarters- red, blue, green, and purple- twist together in dizzying combinations.
"Come on," the teacher's now disembodied voice said. "I won't wait forever."
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Posted: Sat Apr 07, 2007 4:50 pm
This was getting weirder by the second. Angel found himself wishing somebody would throw cold water on him and return him to consciousness soon. This had to be induced by a blow to the head.
...didn't it? I mean, were you actually conscious of the fact it was a dream if it, well, was a dream? And the other three were awfully dynamic and vivid, not stilted puppets or vague faces as dream versions of people often are.
Balleratrix's voice was still loud and clear as ever. Instinct dictated he make for the bar with all haste, lingering memories of whip cracks driving him. But maybe...He watched the knob that now hovered in space turn in a hypnotic flash of colours.
"Think maybe we can get out of here?" he asked of nobody in particular. An artificial desert still stretched as far as the eye could see in one direction. Definitely not an appealing choice. It left this self-turning knob as their best hope.
He reached for it, then paused, struggling to pull a sleeve down over his hand. He had no idea why, but something made him not want his bare skin on it.
Still several feet from the closest person, Baxter continued to hang back. "This is a sick joke," he whispered when the woman's head popped out of the mirror, as if, after all the strangeness that had preceded it, that was the thing that finally made this too much to believe. Determined not to help... whatever this was along, he shoved his hands into the lacy pockets of his coat and inched away from the inky blackness that had once been the mirror. Maybe the cat-girl would sacrifice herself for the good of the team.
Crescentia was busy inspecting her new coat...if a coat was really what it could be called, so she was surprised to hear the angry voice of their self-proclaimed teacher. She glared at the spot where the woman's head had once been. "Amerei torcere il suo collo con i pantaloni del Baxter. " She growled, walking over to the bar and leaning against it with her arms crossed.
Angel seemed to cheer her up a bit with his question. A way to get out? Good! She hated being stuck in one place for too long! "Odd...there isn't an outline for a door there. The knob's pretty though." She mused, pushing herself off the bar and following Angel to it. The gypsy blinked and watched the man mess with his sleeve, sighing. "Where's your sense of adventure, Angel." Crescentia smiled and grabbed the doorknob to see if maybe she could push or pull open a magic invisible door. It wasn't like anything was going to happen.
“This is all a twisted dream. A seriously twisted dream, that or I was shot and now dead,” Trin said softly as she made her way to the bar. But that still didn’t explain the ‘teacher.’ Then the attention to the door got her attention and she wondered to where the others were up too.
“Just because there’re no seams on the door doesn’t mean there aren’t any,” she said as she walked to them. Then Crescentia touched the knob all the way to open the door.
Yep, she was brave.
As soon as it was touched, the doorknob twisted and immediately swung inwards into the darkness, pulling the person who had tried it along. The misty black turned out to only be about an inch thick, and once through, those who passed through the doorway would finally find the bar.
It was, in fact, an old Wild West saloon, complete with a tinkling piano in the corner, a counter with several shady men in cowboy hats and boots seated in front of it, a couple of poker games already in progress, and a woman with a gaudy, ornate dress performing a can can for the whistling crowd. When she saw the newcomers, she looked up and paused.
"Well," Balleratrix said, "it's about time you got here. But it's too late, I'm afraid. They're almost here."
He made a grab for Crescentia as the door yanked inward, to salve his conscience; but he was a few seconds too late. Instead of staring at their certain demise, he stared an an old saloon full of disreputable-looking cowboys.
And he was wearing a leotard and the fruitiest coat known to man. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself. He was in so much haste to disrobe from the offending garments (he could just feel their narrow-eyed stares) that he didn't even check on the gypsy.
He did make time for a question. "Who's almost here," he demanded. Balleratrix's voice had sounded ominious.
Baxter offered a hand to Crescentia, narrowed eyes gazing suspiciously at the gathered men and Balleratrix, who was sporting yet another costume change. This was more his speed, but he still didn't appreciate that the scene seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
"Yeah, who?" he grated, backing Angel's words. Maybe if they showed a united front, he would get to go home.
"AUGH!" Crescentia gasped when the door pulled her in with it, letting go when she had the chance and nearly crashing into a table full of poker-playing cowboys that looked quite dangerous. Her surroundings didn't register to her yet though. "Owww..." She groaned, sitting where she'd handed and rubbing at her elbows. "Maybe I should have let you grab the knob, Ange--why hello there." The gypsy stared up at the face of a cowboy, accepting Baxter's help up and brushing herself off like she hadn't just come flying out of nowhere and nearly ruined their poker game.
...They definitely didn't fit in here. Oh well! That made her feel more at ease now! "Uh...yeah. Who's almost here?" Wow it felt weird not to know what was about to happen. She usually had tarot cards to tell her things!
Trinity went after where the other girl went flying only to notice that they weren’t alone. So this is what the crazy old lady meant. A -bar- like a place you buy drinks. Not a bar, like a pole! This was just too embarrassing. But she kept her cool and checked on the gypsy.
“Are you okay? You made one heck of an entrance,” she asked.
"The pirates, of course."
Balleratrix stated this calmly, as though travelling through mirrors and having saloons invaded by pirates was an everyday occurance. Which to her, it may well have been. Still, there was a nervous edge to her movements that had not been there before, and if anyone was looking closely, they might have noticed that the hand holding her whip- which was now a much shorter, more elegant riding crop- shook when she smacked it against things.
"You'll have to leave now," she said fiercely, looking over her pupils shoulders at the door they had emerged from. Instead of a mirror, it was that same pit of sand that had been in the ballet studio, stretching seemingly to infinity under an artificial sky. "Yes. That will do."
Behind the Balleratrix, and behind the cowboys who had abandoned their drinks and poker and were preparing their guns, was a double swinging door, one of the few things that actually fit in with the setting. Outside it, however, one could hear the clang of metal against metal, and the occasional "arrh!"
"Go on now. If you jump, you can make it." Swatting the students with her riding crop, Balleratrix herded them over to the sand pit. "It's best if you get a running start. Hurry." The sand didn't look especially inviting, with the way it funneled into central points, but it was possibly a better alternative to getting caught in a cowboy/pirate brawl.
"If it gets me away from that whip, I'm in," Angel said. And the cowboys. He hadn't even gotten far enough to worry about the pirates yet. But if they scared Balleratrix, they sure as hell scared him.
Besides, he could always...No. Not unless he had to. Gathering himself with an unexpected athleticism, he ran and threw himself forward.
Crescentia grinned and threw her arms around TB in a hug. "Yes, I'm fine! It's nice to know some people appreciate a gypsy's entrance here!" Balleratrix's answer drew her attention back to the situation at hand.
"..Pirates? In the west?" That was weird. Oh well, best not argue with a woman with a whip! Especially if they were given permission to leave this crazy place. Crescentia didn't like it here...it was too peculiar. She followed the woman's gaze to the desert behind them, giving a little gasp. Where had that come from?!
Oh well. The gypsy wasn't one to spend time contemplating, she liked impulse! So she walked over to the Balleratrix then turned and ran towards the desert, jumping forward when she reached the edge of the saloon.
Well, s**t. This was just a madhouse. Baxter recognized the sounds of fighting, and whether or not these people actually believed they were pirates and cowboys was really none of his concern. He wasted no time peeling off his jacket and insanely ugly, itchy swimsuit top and throwing the top at the nearest scruffy, gun-toting freak. He kept the coat, balling it up into a compact pillow of sorts and holding it in front of his chest.
"It's a dream, right?" he muttered. He took a deep breath, jogged forward and jumped through the door after the younger man and woman.
Everyone had suddenly gone nuts. First angel jumped in, then Crescentia, whom Trin tried to stopped from jumping in only to lose her balance at the edge. Without her tail, she wasn’t able to get that balance back, and added to the older man jumping in, her balance was gone forever. She fell into the darkness without a clue what would happen next.
Well, that wasn’t any different from the time this event started.
In this case, the sand was quicker than the eye. As soon as the jumpers landed, they would find themselves being sucked down by the tiny grains. Struggling or trying to swim through it wouldn't help in the least. The smarter ones might have enough time to take an especially deep breath before the sand swallowed them, and everything went black.
When they awoke, they would find themselves in a completely different place yet again- in a library. Glass doors with elegant gold vine handles were open in front of them, and beyond were dozens upon dozens of bookcases, containing hundreds, or thousands, of books. Lamps atop the bookcases provide enough light to see without bumping into things, if not enough to read by. The books, however, are spectacles in themselves.
...Nope...Crescentia was too busy yelling as many profanities about her luck in both French and Italian. Sheee definitely didn't have time to take a deep breath before being pulled into the sand.
She had no idea how long they were out but she did remember waking up to coughing up bits of sand she'd gotten in her mouth from when she was yelling. "This," She wiped at her mouth the ugly coat's sleeve. "Is not my night." Crescentia sighed, looking up finally to see where she was. Oh wow...this place was actually pretty nice. "Pretty."
He landed with a grunt; but instead of hurting his knees, as he'd expected, he never quite got his feet, as the sand slid from beneath him, funneling down. He scrambled, but dropped
Screw that. "I am NOT going down there," he hollered as he disappeared from beyond view. Those following might have viewed a sudden mini sandstorm appearing over the hole, but it seemed Angel was mistaken; he fell through all the same, smothering.
He came to just as clean as last time. Books of every shape, size and hue swam dizzily into view. The perspective he gained from his position on his back gave the shelving monstrous proportions. And made his wings hurt.
With a muffled cry, they blinked out of view. He really, really hoped he was alone. Or at least, the first one awake. It was dim in here at least, he comforted himself, and he couldn't immediately see anyone. Maybe they'd been taken elsewhere; or been smart enough not to follow, he added ruefully to himself.
He did think he caught notes of Crescentia's voice somewhere in this place; and he called out himself, genuinely hoping someone would answer. Struggling to his feet, he made for where he thought she might be.
Baxter hit the sand hard, and as he felt himself sinking, he began to kick and swing his arms in a ridiculous attempt to remain afloat. It didn't help that the sand was sucking him straight down while he was executing some form of breaststroke. He had once been a strong swimmer, he would like to think he had been strong at everything, but at the moment he was tired and panicky and wearing a pair of the greatest sand-collecting pants known to mankind. He didn't have time to take a breath before he was under...
...and then he was awake again. He sat up quickly and began coughing, bits of sand sprinkling off of him in a sparkling shower. His entire body hurt as a result of his futile swim, and it took all of his concentration to stop wheezing. At the gypsy's declaration he looked up and the tickling in his throat ceased for the moment. Yeah, it was kind of pretty.
Trin landed on her backside, having been falling backwards the whole time. Swimming in sand was much harder than water, and harder still backwards. Then she hit something, and all was quiet.
When she woke up, the others were moving already and she gave a cough, trying to shake the sand off of her. It seemed to get everywhere! “Is everyone okay…?” she asked, then noticed the library. “And… I’m more lost now.”
The library was inviting, especially when compared to the Balleratrix's classroom, or the saloon that may or may not have been invaded by pirates. Its atmosphere was cozy, if a bit dark, and there was a light feeling of expectance in the air. The House knew that it had them now, and it was just a matter of waiting as the books called out to them.
"Mmm hmm," Baxter answered absently, rising slowly to his feet. He didn't really care anymore if it was the cat-girl who had asked. That was the way out. It had to be. He walked forward into the library, trying not to limp, and trailed a finger over the spines of the nearest books.
"Except for some sand up our noses we seem to be fine." The gypsy pushed herself up to her feet and looked around. Wow! It was the nicest thing in this house! And there weren't any crazy cowboys or kinky dance teachers! What a haven! "I've never seen so many books!" She said with a grin, glancing around to make sure the place was safe before running to the closest bookshelf with a giddy little giggle.
She plucked a random book off a shelf and skimmed through it, shrugging when the only page she actually read (Around the middle) held no interest to her because she didn't understand what was going on. She put that one back. "At least we got lost somewhere peaceful this time, eh?" Crescentia asked as she took a small pink book off a shelf with some French title. "This place must have every book ever published or something. There's so many!"
Past two bookshelves and around a rather comfortable red leather reading chair, Angel found them all. "Looks like we all made it," he commented; and then, "This really isn't so bad. There are some gorgeous volumes here."
He ignored the feeling that they were all still waiting for the other shoe to drop, and moved to peruse the shelves. The ornate bumped elbows with the practically decomposed. The musty smell of old paper was everywhere.
Still, it took him almost a full turn around the room before Angel moved to pull one off the shelves and actually open it -- sheer curiosity provoked the action. This book looked as though it had been fished out of a fire.
The cover, plain faded red cloth splashed with darker brown stains, was warped with heat, and one corner on all the pages was a little charred.
He moved to open the cover to assess the damage inside, but Crescentia's giddy turnings about the room distracted him, and he left it unread.
“I have to agree, at least it’s peaceful,” Trin said, getting to her feet and wincing in pain. That fall had hurt! But at least everyone was moving around. And now that Balleratrix wasn’t around, she started to shed the weird clothes she was given. It was starting to hurt her tail. At least to the point it could be freed.
Then she started to explore the library with the rest, looking at books at random. Yes, this was much better than where they had been. All she needed now was a nice cup of tea and this was a good place to wait to get out of her.
That was, if they could read these books. Then one she was holding wouldn't open, so she put it back and reached for another to see if that one did.
The book in Baxter's hands was both small and fat, and almost looked like a block. Covered in multicolored cloth that could have come from a patchwork quilt, it had a pair of gold buttons sewn into its spine. Its pages were a soft, golden tan color, and extremely thick, possibly adding to the book's weight.
The next book Crescentia picked up was quite thin, with a flexible, pale blue cover. It appeared to have been embossed with a title some time ago, but the ink had rubbed of, leaving only slights indentation as evidence. Keeping with its light theme, the pages were a stark white, and quite stiff. It was a sharp contrast to the tiny, jet black print that was centered on each page.
Before Angel could open the cover, another caught his eye a short distance away. This book was somewhat thicker and heavier, covered with a lightweight red leather. There was a design painted on the spine of the book in gold. When he opened it, he would note that the pages were a deep grey, and softer than they appeared. Whatever color the text had once been, it had faded into an indistingushable gray, almost the same as the pages themselves.
As for Trin's, she had come across a book with a cover that shifted colors in the light, looking first blue, then green, then purple. Its cover was glossy and slightly warm, with no apparent markings on it. Inside, the pages were warmer still, and crinkled as they were touched.
Hm..she'd read that one later. She picked up the blue book next and stared at the cover. Weird...no title. Not anymore at least. Crescentia looked around for a moment to find something, smiling when she found a comfy chair. Just what she was looking for! She hated to read standing up! Walking over, the gypsy draped herself across the chair with her back against one arm and her legs hanging over the other. There! Now she was comfortable.
"Huh...what a strange book." She murmured as her eyes scanned over the words on the page. It was impossible not to read the words when the pages were the whitest pages she'd ever seen!
Angel wandered on, and picked up a book from a reading table this time. Red again. Why did that colour keep popping up tonight? He wasn't even particularly fond of it. An intricate design in gold snaked its way up the spine.
The pages of it seemed even more beautiful though, the dark, rich gray a sharp contrast to the warm tones of the cover. They were a pleasure to touch, he found, as he struggled to make out the letters that were only a slightly different colour than the paper.
Turning the book so the glare from the bright buttons was somewhere other than his eyes, he ran his fingers over the patchy cover before tilting the book and letting the heavy pages fall open where they would. A soft grin touched his lips, and for a change it wasn't angry or cynical. When he noticed he was smiling, Baxter quickly wiped the sentiment from his features looked around at the others, to make sure no one had seen.
A small, almost giddy, giggle escaped the tailed girl as she held the book. There was something about the way the colors changed urged her to open it. Now this had been one of the most interesting books she had ever picked up! It was strange that there were no words on the cover, and no writing on it what so ever.
Upon opening the book, her hand moved over the warm pages even as the voices of the others came. What they were saying was beyond her, for she was too focused in on the book, and what it read. As she read, her hand kept caressing the pages. The warmth reminded her of sitting in the sunlight, or next to a fire on a cold day.
The relative silence of the Library was broken by a sudden whistling. Seconds later, a teenage boy strolled past one of the bookcases, holding a young girl in his arms. Despite the boy being a bit pale, the pair looked more or less normal.
Then a miniature whale flew past them, encased in a bubble of water, and normal went out the window.
"He's gotta be here," Eriol said to the girl, looking around. "He was here that time b'fore, so he's gotta live here, or somethin'. Waitin' for innocent kids ta fall inta his trap-"
It was then that he noticed the others, looking at the books, and his red-green eyes widened in shock. Before taking in the whole scene- and the open books- he adressed them sharply. "What're y'all doing here? Careful, or you'll get caught too."
Crescentia was content reading her new book at the moment. It wasn't until she heard a voice and saw a flying whale that she looked up. Oh, it was just children with a flying whale.
...Wait...
A flying whale?! What?!
"Caught? In what? More sand?" The gypsy giggled and turned back to her book. She didn't mean to be rude to the boy but...honestly...they'd had a very odd night. If anything were to faze Crescentia after this it would have to be pretty spectacular.
Angel was, for one, getting tired of the endless parade of characters and their quirks. A whale did not belong in a library. At least nobody had weapons, so far as he could see.
"We're caught in here, yes," he broke in over Crescentia. "How do we get out?" Strange; for the moment, they'd all seemed to have forgotten escape as they'd picked up their respective tomes. It hadn't seemed that important just a moment ago.
Caught? As far as Baxter was concerned, they already were. If he had been able to find an exit, he would have left long ago.
"Who are you?" he asked, unconsciously cradling his book in the crook of his elbow. "Is that you, you crazy hag?"
“Caught by what?” Trin echoed, torn away from her book to look at the voice. Her eyes went large at the sight of the flying whale with the children.
Okay, that was just strange. So strange, it fit fight in with tonight.
"No, not sand," Eriol said dismissively. "Caught with a... book." Wait, she already had a book. That was bad. But when he looked around, he saw that far more disturbingly, they ALL had books. That was about as bad as it got. Those poor souls, he thought, looking at the ceiling quickly. And since he couldn't find that limeade guy, they were going to think it was his fault!
"Listen," Eriol said, adressing Angel, but also the others. "I feel for ya. I really, really do. But it's not my fault. Sounds like y'were stuck, eh? Well, so was I, last year. And it sucks. But that's kinda sorta not all of it."
Then Baxter spoke, and Eriol was outright offended. "Listen. I'm an innocent bystander in alla this, jus like you. Name's Eriol." Shifting the girl in his arms, he extended a gloved hand. "This here's Viviana, and the whale's Outcry. And... y'all might wanna come with me for a sec, so I can 'splain. Oh, an leave the books here."
While Eriol made introductions, Viviana looked out at the crowd shyly. Some people sounded angry, and it made her bury her head in Eriol's shirt. She didn't like how angry people sounded.
Uh oh. He was already making excuses about something. That couldn't be good. Once again Angel comforted himself by the lack of whips and yelling, and lay down the book -- albeit with slight reluctance -- and followed the teen. He was pretty sure by this point the only way to escape the fantasy was to see it to its conclusion, and apparently the conclusion wasn't one they could control.
"A book? Well we've had weirder done to us tonight." She said without looking up from her book, tuning out the others in the room. She sighed after a moment and put the book down. She couldn't concentrate now! She pushed herself off the chair and stood, crossing her arms over her chest and following Angel to the boy.
This was a curious turn of events. Someone was actually going to explain what was going on! “But how can a book be a bad thing…?” Trin asked. That was bothersome, even if everything was about to be explained.
Reluctantly she set her book down and started to follow him.
"Oh... well, good to meet you," Baxter said, stepping forward and holding out a hand to shake before he really realized what he was doing. This was ridiculous. He put his book down slowly and made to follow Eriol. If this young man had answers, he was actually worth following for a change.
"Alright... this is gonna sound nutso. I know it will, 'cause it sounded nutso to me when I heard it. But it's true." That probably wasn't the best way to launch into an explanation, but Eriol had to have that disclaimer in place. That way, hopefully, these people wouldn't KILL HIM.
"So. These books? Turn into kids. Seriously, they do! She was a book once." Giggling Viviana in his arms, Eriol took a deep breath and continued. "I'm not really sure how it works, 'cause, y'know, it's weird. But I got sucked inta this madhouse, and wound up with her. Oh, an him too!" This time he pointed at the whale. "See, these kids come with little animal things called daemons. An it's really important to make sure they stay near the kids, or else they both get really sick. An the daemons get named from words in the excerpts. Which are... excerpts of the book, I think. I don't really remember well. But they're important."
Considering the circumstances, he hadn't done a bad job explaining things. He wasn't the lime idiot, after all. But there was one more thing to add. "An you hafta take 'em, even if you don' wanna, 'cause I am NOT takin' care of all these kids, y'hear?"
Then, before they could think he was a candidate for the looney bin, he herded them all back to the table with the books. They could see for themselves.
"Weird...books that turn into kids? That's kinda cool, but even I have to admit it's kinda creepy too." The gypsy glanced back at the books, listening quietly to the whole explanation the boy was giving.
When they were given the chance Crescentia walked over and picked up her book again, opening it to the page she'd left off on and reading through it again.
Baxter remained silent. That was not what he wanted to hear, not at all. He had no room for or inclination to keep some magical spawn with a mutant whale sidekick. If he didn't say anything, he didn't agree to anything. Right?
He had heard of stranger things -- Taka, after all, had been born from at least equally unusual circumstances.
...he didn't want another Taka.
Angel also didn't much know what to say, but at last he managed something. "Okay, so...we should go check for them?" He was a) taking this better than he'd expected and b) feeling really ridiculous. "I feel like a kid running downstairs to see if Santa has come yet," he muttered as he took a few hesitant steps back the way they'd come.
The stuff about daemons, excerpts, and what needed to stay where had completely washed over him unabsorbed. At this point, he felt proud he even knew there were supposed to be kids.
The books they were reading became children? With little creatures called daemon’s with them? She had heard that term somewhere before, yet before she could think of where, they were herded back into the room they had just left.
Everything was happening so fast now, she wasn’t sure what to do so she stayed silent and watched.
"Don't believe me? Well too bad." Frowning, Eriol pushed them out, in front of the rickety wooden table, to see exactly what was there where the books had been.
Sitting closest to the edge of the table was Baxter's, a girl with unruly dreadlocks and a long ornate coat- not unlike the ones they had been forced to wear by the Balleratrix. This one, however, along with the hat, gave the definite impression of a certain kind of seafarer. She watched the adults, giggling, and almost dislodged her excerpt from the corner of her hat.
"She sped ahead and leapt without even hesitating. Her leather coat flared out behind her like wings, and I thought, I'd like a coat like that. She touched down on the next building, arms wide for balance. My strides lengthened and I took flight, my body thrilling as it soared over the lane far below. I hit the gravel running and caught up with the girl. It was not a graceful landing. There was the sound of broken glass, and I was sprawled on the floor in the most undignified manner. Blinking away the rain, I turned to look back at the Ritz. A couple of pirates stood at the roof's edge, silhouetted briefly by their airship's spotlight as it soared over them, heading for us."
At first, the girl didn't appear to have a daemon. But then, the sock monkey she was holding- did it move? Before it was possible to tell for sure, the girl took her daemon in her arms.
Next was Crescentia's, a delicate and cheerful girl lying on her stomach. She too laughed at the adults, as well as at her companions. Clad in a blue leotard and skirt, she kicked her legs back and forth, jingling the anklet she was wearing. A snippet of paper could be found under her elbow.
Elle avait la grace d'un cygne, et la passion d'un professionnel, se deplacant comme l'eau par elle fait equipe des bras; la facon ses hanches oscillees et ses pieds deplaces, elle transmet et arme le demenagement avec la musique enchantait et seduire. La musique etait etrangere, probablement latin de quelque genre, mais cela n'a pas eu d'importance. C'etait comme si je regardais une sirene dansant au lieu de chanter; je l'ai voulue, j'ai voulu la tenir, la toucher, sentir sa peau douce contre le mien. Et alors elle m'a regarde...
Her daemon, a white crane with black and red markings, hovered over her protectively, flapping his wings every few moments.
Angel's was more surly than the two girls had been, and was also clad in a fancy coat. He seemed preoccupied with something else, and when he finally did notice the adults he glared at them, kicking his spurred boots against the table. A corner of an excerpt was visible from inside his sleeve.
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.
His daemon was also unusual, a sort of shadowy bird that seemed to take pleasure in nipping her child's clothes. The boy tried to ignore this, but the daemon persisted.
Finally, Trin's child was another cheerful one, her blonde hair falling in her face. She was clad in what may have been the most fancy coat of them all, complete with feathers at the sleeves. Her blue eyes took in everything, but other than a smile, she showed no other reaction. Just visible underneath her hand was a scrap of paper, with her excerpt.
She read very well, not only melodiously, but in a way which made the second verse fit the rhythm of the first, which in her opinion it did not do at all:
"If thou beest born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights
Till age snow white hairs on thee.
Thou, when thou returnest, wilt tell me
All strange wonders that befell thee,
And swear
No where
Lives a woman true, and fair."
Her daemon was another sight to behold, a ball of flame that floated around her head. Its only features were two glowing eyes, and a devious looking grin.
"There," Eriol said. "Toldja so."
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Posted: Thu Sep 27, 2007 12:45 pm
April 6, 2007
It was all Baxter could do not to drop the child on the hardwood floor as he entered the foyer. The main thing that held him back was... that house. He was proud to say that not many things scared him; he had seen too much to be frightened of most of what Gaia had to offer, choosing instead to insulate himself behind walls of hate and contempt. But that house. It wasn't right.
He placed the book-child gently on one of his mismatched rugs and with a squeal she shoved the arm of her toy in her mouth and gnawed. She didn't have any teeth, so it was more like a soggy gumming, but the monkey remained still. Baxter knew it could move - he had seen it - but ever since the three of them had been alone, it hadn't so much as twitched. That was probably a good thing at this point.
Baxter sat nearby and stared for a long time. He wouldn't name her. He wouldn't do more than feed and bathe her and make sure she had a place to sleep. Maybe she would just go away on her own.
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Posted: Thu Sep 27, 2007 12:46 pm
August 5, 2007
Brownie hadn't seen Baxter since she had come home. Under normal circumstances, he would have been the first person she paid a visit to after an Adventure, but between her father and August, the girl had been preoccupied.
In a not-so-subtle act of assery, Chucky had, out of the blue, suggested that they all go to The Hose that morning, knowing full well that August was too young to enjoy it and Brownie's wings were bound to rust just thinking about that much water. It was the first time her father had offered to venture outside since they'd returned and Smerdle couldn't just blow it off but, to her credit, she did seem apologetic about the whole thing. She had even gone so far as to suggest Brownie go and visit her old friend, despite her misgivings about a young, impressionable girl spending time with a middle-aged, gun-toting racist. Brownie could have told her aunt she needn't worry, but she kept it to herself.
Since their destination was only across the street, Brownie was encouraging August to practice his walking. She had caught him at it a few days ago, but he seemed reluctant to try his legs in front of anyone. A rare appearance by Brownie the b***h had forced August to comply or be left behind. When they reached the sidewalk on the other side of the road, she scooped her brother into her arms, sighing at the weight.
"See, it wasn't so bad."
"No. Not bad," August quietly admitted, scrubbing a fist across his eye.
Baxter's house looked scary and run-down from the outside, but its intentional unpleasantness hadn't deterred Brownie the first time she saw it and she was fairly certain it would have no effect on August either. During her first encounter with Baxter he had threatened to shoot her, and they had been good friends (almost) ever since. Baxter hated anything or anyone that was 'less' than human or possessed magic, Brownie being the only exception she knew of. She hoped her brother would be the second.
As the pair approached the house, August heard a faint wail coming from its general direction. He tapped Brownie on the shoulder, and when she looked at him, he mouthed the word, "Listen." Sure enough, when Brownie took another few steps forward and craned her neck toward the front door, she could hear it too. Weird.
She hurried forward - as fast as she could with an armful of toddler - and rapped on the door, hard. Baxter had once told her why he had disconnected his doorbell, but Brownie couldn't remember the reason. Something about cultists. At her knock, the crying got louder.
"Go away," a man's voice rasped from the other side of the door.
"Baxter? It's me."
Several loud stomps briefly accompanied the hysterical sobbing for a moment before the door swung open and both kids were greeted by a distinctly flustered Baxter Green. He squinted his eyes at August, and when August squinted back, Baxter sighed.
"Get your a** in here," he said, stepping aside to allow Brownie to enter the house. As she crossed the threshold there was a thunk, followed by the hitching, wet crying of a very small person. Baxter slammed the door behind Brownie, almost bashing her in the back in the process, and rushed past her to return to the kitchen. What the hell was going on?
Brownie hobbled after him, expecting aliens or man-eating plants, or maybe a zombie. What she saw when she rounded the corner was a little sobbing red-faced girl, a bit younger than August, being lifted off of the floor by Baxter. It had appeared that she had been trying to crawl toward his closed bedroom door. From behind the door, there was a strange scratching sound, but no other noise that Brownie could hear. She put August down on the floor and hurried to Baxter's side, her sudden appearance and bright, spiky hair enough to distract the child into silence for the moment. The baby lifted one of her own brightly decorated dreadlocks and shoved it into her mouth as she continued to stare.
"Where'd you get that?" Brownie asked.
"You don't want to know."
"What?" August had crawled over to the bedroom door and was pointing at a stuffed sausagey thing as it frantically darted in and out of the crack under the door.
"Nothing," Baxter began, but it was too late. Brownie was crossing the room and opening the door and was watching, wide-eyed, as a living sock monkey got to its feet and stumbled over to sit near Baxter's. The dreadlocked baby cooed, "Po, Po, Po," and yawned hugely, nuzzling into her father's shirt.
"I think you'd better start explaining yourself."
"After you," Baxter muttered, glaring at August.
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Posted: Thu Mar 20, 2008 5:53 pm
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Posted: Thu Mar 20, 2008 5:58 pm
October 22, 2007
RP - Baxter runs into Crescentia when he goes out to buy a toy for Dora. He's a giant, crabby racist, as usual.
After six months of cloth diapers and deliberately minimal entertainment, Brownie had insisted that Baxter go out and acquaint himself with modern methods of infant rearing.
"This kid is going to be completely ********> she had said, bouncing Dora on her knee. "You've got to at least get her one normal baby toy. One that isn't alive on its own." A pale eyebrow inched closer to her hairline. "I know you've got money. Just go buy her something. I'll watch her."
And that was that. That was the reason why Baxter was wandering around Barton by himself, the grimace on his face deterring nearly everyone from speaking to him. His head was down in an attempt to avoid eye contact, but sadly this tactic also made it impossible for him to actually find any baby-related stores. A compromise had to be reached.
He stopped abruptly and looked around. A sparkly young man, who had been following a bit too closely, bumped Baxter's shoulder with his own as he veered out of the way. "Sorry, man." The youth's frail insect wings fluttered slightly as he continued walking, looking back apologetically.
Baxter's eyes narrowed further and he fought a strange urge to growl or lunge toward the man, just to see fear in the other's eyes. This was why he didn't go out anymore.
While Baxter was being a terrible parent, Crescentia was being a bit more responsible. Sure she didn't have the children with her but she knew where they were.
They were wherever her mother was.
She was being responsible, damnit! The gypsy was doing what she did best to get money! She was in the streets of Barton dancing by the large fountain in the center of the town, her cousins playing music for her to dance to. They had a hat sitting by their feet for people to put money into; they were making a nice amount too! Every so often she'd stop to tell someone their fortune, smiling when she watched a person walk away thinking she was full of it; Crescentia's fortunes always come true.
A shiny young man with wings caught her attention as Crescentia danced, gasping when she noticed who he'd bumped into. She knew that face! Not necessarily the name but the face! He was there when that terrible house had trapped them! Ugh, at least Sera (A very positive reward) brightened her night. "Hang on." She murmured to her cousins, hurrying after Baxter as quietly as she could. This was impossible with all jer jingly jewelry, so she gave up and just disappeared and reappeared in a puff of sparkly magenta smoke right in front of Baxter. She waved and flashed him a bright smile.
"Hello! Remember me?"
Baxter gasped as a sudden woman-filled cloud materialized not three feet in front of him. He raised his hand to his mouth and coughed to cover the noise, but his heart raced as if it was trying to ga-gung its way out of his chest.
"Damn it," he hissed. This... was the other reason he didn't go out anymore. Baxter hadn't met many people recently, but his luck was unfortunate at best, so of course he would wander into the same area as someone he knew. He forced his frown into a grimace of neutrality. It was the least he could do for someone who had shared time with him in that horrible house. The very least.
"Hello," he tried, his voice low and gruff. "How are things?" He didn't remember her name, just that she was more adventurous than he was and, thanks to her little entrance just now, could apparently appear out of thin air. Great.
"Is something the matter?" Crescentia asked when Baxter hissed. Men didn't often hiss when she came up to them...how odd. Was this man homosexual? Here she was dressed to dance and catch attention with lovely revealing clothes and this man was hissing at her? How rude! He wasn't a cat!
The gypsy held the hem of part of her skirt and sort of twirled back and forth from the waist up, giving a little shrug when asked how she was doing. "Fine, fine. my little Sera and Guinevere are being angels at home with my mother while I make money to take care of them with." She smiled hopefully. "Is your little angel around?" Crescentia asked as she looked around Baxter for a sign of a little girl dressed as a pirate. But...there was no sign of her. Was she mistakened? "...Where is she?" She blinked. How odd.
"You just... I'm startled. Nothing personal." Only it was. Nevermind. Baxter took a deep breath and sighed it back out. "This is where you work?" He seemed to notice her outfit for the first time, but mentally shrugged it off. Pleasant. Calm.
"Isadora is at home with a... friend." He supposed his annoying adolescent neighbor was his friend, of a sort. It irritated him to think of her that way, but he hadn't spoken more than twenty words to anyone else in years. "Spotlight is with her." There was really no use in trying to mask the existence of the possessed toy since this woman already knew he was alive.
Crescentia frowned apologetically and gave a tiny little bow. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you, I was just excited to see someone else I know!" The gypsy smiled again, giving another shrug when the location of 'work' was assumed. Perhaps he'd get a kick out of this. "I work anywhere and everywhere. The world is my office!" She raised her arms and did a little spin to give a cute visual as to what she meant. "The street, my cubicle!" Crescentia grinned. "What about you..." As she spoke she was trying to remember his name. It matched him...it began with a B and had an odd letter in it. A letter not often used in a name...z? No! X! "Baxter?"
It was weird that Baxter had to pause and think about where his daughter was. How come he hesitated in saying the word friend? Was this person not a friend but a...'friend?' Or was their relationship with one another questionable? How peculiar. "I see! So what brings you to town then?"
"No need to apologize." Baxter still wasn't smiling, but his tone was perceptibly warmer. "I'm in sanitation." Let's see what she made of that. She worked the streets, after all. Or maybe not. She seemed too happy to be a street-hardened prostitute. He watched her spin, finally putting two and two together. Spinning. Jingle-jangle jewelry. Oh. She wasn't a prostitute at all. She was some sort of dancer, like in the movies. Interesting. "It must be nice to kind of be your own boss." There, an attempt to be nice.
He raised his head again and looked off beyond Crescentia for a moment. "I'm looking for a toy store. And, I'm sorry, I don't remember your name." My, weren't we blunt today.
The gypsy blinked. "Sanitation? Like...the sewers?" Crescentia lowered her voice a little at that, as if asking what he meant by sanitation was scandalous. She blinked when she heard one of her cousins clear his through quite loudly, watching him glare darkly at Baxter behind his back. What was wrong? Why was he glaring at Baxter? "Hm? Oh, yes. I do enjoy the freedom, but I supposed one may have advantages to having a 'boss.' However I dislike being told what to do, being confined in any sort of way!" Which was obvious by her attire.
"A toystore?" She gasped excitedly. "Allow me to escort you to one!" The gypsy grabbed Baxter's hand and led him to where her cousins were still sitting with their instuments. The one was still scowling a tad bit at the very thought of Baxter even considering his dearest cousin to be a common whore. The gypsies conversed in Italian for a few minutes before Crescentia suddenly scooped up the hat, money and all, and placed it on her head. She then linked arms with Baxter with a broad grin. "Hello, I am Crescentia and I shall be your escort for this lovely day."
"Just the garbage. It pays well," he said, diligently following her and his hand back to where her cousins waited. While they spoke, Baxter returned the rude gypsy's glare. It was a good thing he didn't seem to be offering to accompany them on this impromptu search for toys. Baxter wasn't even sure he wanted to go himself.
It was only when Crescentia linked her arm in his and grinned that he decided maybe this trip hadn't been a complete waste. No one could be this nice. "Lead the way," he said. "And thank you."
Crescentia blinked. "Oh, I see." She smiled a little as she lead the way to where they were headed. She knew the perfect place to go! She got all of Sera and Guin's toys at this one! And the owner was just such a sweetheart!
Instead of taking the normal street the gypsy led Baxter through an alley, a nice shortcut to the other side of the buildings where the door of the toystore was. There was a sign hanging out in front of the shop so people walking down the street could read it without turning their heads. It read: Madame Pussyfoot's toys for children! Crescentia's smile brightened. "Here we are!" She said, letting go of Baxter's arm to hold his hand so she could open the door with her free hand. A bell rung as she door opened and a woman standing behind a counter looked up.
"Hello again!" The woman smiled. If the name of the store alone didn't give it away, the sight would explain everything. This woman was a tabby cat! Her green eyes glittered with happiness at the sight of her most frequent customer.
"Hello, Crescentia! And who is this?"
"This is Baxter. We're here to buy his little angel a toy! Right, Baxter?" Crescentia then dragged the man further into the store to where the toys were before he had the chance to protest or try leaving. She still held his hand.
Baxter would have normally tried to avoid alleys, so it was more than a bit distracting to be led through one. He held his negative comments in and kept his head down, completely missing the shop's sign before he was dragged through the door.
His first glimpse of the cat-woman left him scowling and speechless. Thankfully, Crescentia was talking to it so he didn't have to.
Once they were near the toys, he faced the gypsy and asked, "What do you recommend?" through gritted teeth. Pick a toy. Buy it. Get home. Burn it.
Never leave the house again.
Crescentia dragged Baxter through the little aisles, looking up and down the shelves. Hm...what should they get? Baxter obviously didn't know what little girls liked! "How about a stuffed animal?" The gypsy picked up an adorable smiling koala bear, letting go of Baxter to wave the little bear's paws around. "Isn't he cute?" She giggled. They didn't have to get a koala, it was just the first thing Crescentia saw.
"Let's get something to eat after this..." She carefully flipped the hat off her head without losing any of the money. Don't ask how none of it fell out already just wearing it. The gypsy was silent as she quickly counted the money. "Mmmmmy treat!"
Baxter took a deep breath, trying to think of the promise he had made. His own kid and Brownie were magic freaks, and Crescentia wasn't half bad. Surely he didn't have to lash out so strongly, at least not immediately. "Yeah, cute," he offered, less angrily than before. "Maybe something brighter would be better. Spot would be jealous over another grayish-brown thing." The comment wasn't made out of any sort of care for the monkey's well-being, it was just a mess dealing with the daemon's mood swings.
He grunted noncommittally at the mention of food. "If you insist."
Crescentia smiled, completely oblivious to what he thought about her and other magic users. She put the koala down and looked around. What else...there were so many to choose from! Geeze! She jingled a bit as she tapped at her chin thoughtfully, looking up and down the shelves.
Brighter was better...brighter was better...oh! How adorable! A large pink tentacle hanging from a higher shelf caught her attention. "Oh my! You must get this!" Crescentia giggled, standing on her tiptoes to grab a gigantic octopus off the shelf. "It's so cuuuuute!"
Madame Pussyfoot gave a soft laugh upon hearing her favorite customer. Yes, she's still there and she can hear every word!
Baxter reached out and took the huge pink blob from Crescentia, squeezing it between his hands. It was nearly larger than Dora was tall, and certainly looked nothing like Spot. The smallest of smirks rested on his face for the briefest of moments. "Yeah, cute." Maybe he wouldn't even have to burn it. "I'll take it."
Crescentia smiled brightly when Baxter finally agreed to something, albeit not as enthusiastically as he should but whatever. To each his own. The gypsy grabbed the older man's free hand and dragged him through the store back to where Madame Pussyfoot was waiting behind her checkout counter.
"Did you find everything alright?" She purred, holding a paw out to accept the octopus toy from Baxter so she could ring it up. Crescentia grinned and nodded.
"Yes, we did!" She looked up at Baxter. "Right, Baxter?" Hurry up so they could go eat~! Crescentia was hungry!
The man nodded and handed the toy over. "Interesting place you've got here," Baxter drawled, looking around more thoroughly than he had when they had arrived. He took some money out of his pocket in preparation to pay. This Madame Pussyfoot didn't seem to be the type to brainwash children and tear them away from their families, but it wouldn't hurt...
"I'm sure my daughter would love it here. I'll have to bring her by sometime." Well, his attitude had certainly changed. It might have seemed a pleasant gesture on his part, but Baxter was truly hoping he might somehow get rid of his magical children if the cat-girl took a liking to them.
And they lived happily ever after or something...
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Posted: Mon Sep 29, 2008 10:00 pm
July 3, 2008
The old house had tried to warn Baxter, but in the end it couldn't save him. It was dark and he was tired, but when the floorboards squeaked and shuddered at times and in places they weren't supposed to, he knew something was wrong. He hoped it was the monkey. He thought he could stand raising Dora if the monkey wasn't involved. She was a sweet girl all by herself, but her moving toy was a constant reminder of all the moments that had passed over the course of his life that Baxter wished he could have changed.
He picked up the bat he kept behind his bedroom door, just in case.
"Isadora?" Baxter held the weapon out in front of himself as he began to exit his room, never thinking that his intruder had been watching him sleep.
The blade slid between Baxter's ribs from behind, and a startled gasp was all he could manage before he pitched forward and fell to the floor. Something was wrong. He couldn't fight back. It took him several minutes to die, just long enough to miss the knife as it sank into his skin again and again, until the pile of pulpy flesh left behind no longer resembled a human being at all.
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