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 Posted: Tue Feb 09, 2010 10:18 am
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Posted: Tue Feb 09, 2010 8:16 pm
  Damage ControlWords: 1,026
Horrible.
That’s what he looked like. Downright, hit-by-a-train, horrible.
Standing before the mirror in the bathroom, he inspected the damage. There was a running cut that was over his cheek that was now scabbing over, and all the yellows and patchy blues from under his skin were going away. The visual reminders of his battle with Libra and Europa were slowly fading away, and he was glad his nose wasn’t broken from it. What wasn’t patching up as easily was the most recent attacks from Regulus.
Looking down, he looked at the bandaged gauze about his lower legs. It was a good thing he knew a few things about first aid, and what he wasn’t sure of he found online very easily. There were enough videos and tutorials that he could patch himself without asking for help, which would be impossible. He needed to keep things secret. Not only was this a sign of what he was doing at night, but it could greatly ruin his lifestyle. It was hard enough to keep the mark on his cheek from his mother’s well-trained eyes, and if it hadn’t been for Dr. Konstantin and Tate being an alibi with their fabricated softball story, then he would have been in trouble.
The idea of lying to his mother once again was not something that settled right with him. It took him back to when he was bullied on a daily basis and could come home in tears, hating the world at large and for just being born. He blamed his parents, he blamed the teachers, he blamed himself. Every time his sister came to patch him up, make him look presentable, and had to tell teachers that, “No, our parents are not beating on us, this is other kids.” he had wanted to just leave school and stay in his room. It wasn’t worth it then. No friends. No life. No hope for any improvement. When he started to grow up more, he learned to use the beauty tips his sister used on him to hide the fact that it was still continuing, and it worked. Talk of sending him to another school or home-schooling was pushed aside. His parents bickering about what classes he should take (his dad was for offensive classes like karate while his mother was for self-defense) had stopped. The house grew quieter, and he felt more at ease. He could go to his room without being stopped, without his parents going into a new rant about the state of teenagers and looking at him as if he were some unfortunate victim. He could tell they blamed themselves. They felt like they had to protect him as parents should, and yet didn’t know what to do. They wanted him to grow up strong on his own, independent, but they wanted him to actually live that long.
So he lied. Life was hard enough and he felt like the cause of it. His parents held that expression that said, “What is wrong with the world? Why are they doing this to you?” and he wondered all the while “what am I doing wrong?”. There had to be something. There had to be a reason why people hated and picked on him. There had to be a reason why he had no friends. There had to be a reason for all of it, and he came to one. People were dicks and assholes. It took him a while before the inward blame went outward, but he learned to be safer. No one liked him, and it’s why he had to be smart and realize that. No setting himself up for an attack.
And now what was he doing? He was going out to fight and he was back to hiding his wounds.
But he told himself that this was different. He was picking the battles now. He wasn’t waiting for other people to attack him, even though a few did manage to jump out at him when he least expected it, but here he had power. He could fight. He just….needed to get better at it. That was it. Right now, he was a pathetic piece of work. His weapon had been used against him, and he wasn’t that great at offensive fighting. He needed to practice and get better. That was the whole part about learning something worth learning. It was just like when he took track. He had to train over and over again to the point of exhaustion, his body always hurt and every nerve felt worn and sore, and he had to put ice-packs on his legs just to keep the swelling down.
Ladon looked down at his legs to the icepacks he had now to keep the burning sensation down. Stupid senshi fire claws.
It wasn’t much different, and the pain just meant this was worth it. Wolframite would be going places, even with all the bumps in the road he was facing right now. You had to fall and scrape yourself to hell before you ran. The sneaking out at night. The tricks he had to use to hide the bandages and bruising from his family. The lack of sleep and inattention in class. What was it to him when he was fighting for a higher purpose. He wasn’t part of everyone else anymore. He wasn’t worthless or lower as he had been as just plain Ladon. Ladon got his a** beat. Ladon wouldn’t be much of anything in the human world. Wolframite, that person, that being that felt familiar and close to him like a stronger, better, second-skin, that was where he’d advance in the world. Wolframite had power, and while he got kicked down and lost fights, at least he had the potential to rise up and get better. He needed to.
“It will all be worth it.” He told himself, looking at his reflecting before touching under his eye to see if ti was still tender. Healed.
“You’ll see.” He flicked the light off and walked out of the bathroom towards his bed, wincing with each step. Tomorrow was a new day, and every one moved him forward, away from his old life. His old, less-impressive self.
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Posted: Wed Feb 10, 2010 2:43 pm
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Posted: Thu Feb 11, 2010 8:54 am
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Posted: Sat Feb 13, 2010 10:50 am
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Posted: Sat Feb 13, 2010 10:52 am
Right, Wrong, and RemorseWords: 705
It wasn’t possible that he had done what he had done. He couldn’t believe that he had went that far, past the boundaries of right and wrong that everyone valued. Everyone would say that without a doubt, killing was the worst thing and the people who participated had no excuse. Ladon had valued these laws. A sense of justice was what he had always hoped for, and when he heard some serial killer who was sentenced to death, he said that they deserved it, just as everyone else felt the same thing. The worst people in the world deserved to die for their crimes. It’s why Destiny City was in ruins. Lunatics getting away with whatever they wanted all deserved to get their comeuppance. It was why he loved the Negaverse. The Kingdom that set out to improve the world and the nobility he served under that, for whatever reason, decided he could take part in shaping the future.
The royalty…the Kingdom…the Negaverse….
Ladon sat in bed, curled tight as his heavy quilt laid against his head and back. It was 5am in the morning and he hadn’t slept. Since returning home, he sat on the bed, the hot sweat from his running turning cold against him before leaving him feel like dirt. Filthy. Disgusting. Not fit to live.
He rocked back and forth, breathing deep and muttering to himself, not wanting to speak loudly incase his mother heard him. His fingers twisted Elliot’s ears as he rocked, clutching the tiny stuffed dog to his breast as he moved. It’s poor body was winkled now as he pulled on arms, squeezed it’s leg, and worked the flappy fabric of it’s ear through his rapidly-moving fingers. Even with his childhood friend against him, his mind wasn’t occupied enough to not think.
His eyes glanced up to the starseed at the end of his bed, the light changing colors in the dark shadows of his bedroom. Watching him. If it wasn’t for the crystal, he could have said it was all a dream. He could have lied to himself.
She could have lived a long life if he hadn’t shown up.
She was a prostitute. A hooker. If you hadn’t killed her, she would have died some other way. By her pimp, a customer, or drugs.
What if she had kids?
Probably as messed up as she was, and they’ll be better put in foster care than having some hooker for a mom. They’ll be sent to nice, stable families.
I didn’t even know her name.
Why? It wouldn’t have made a difference. She’s not your problem.
A car drove by and Ladon held his breath, looking at the window as a stream of white light passed into his room over him, the crystal, and then out again. No red or blue lights. No police.
The Queen took care of it. She’s taking care of you. No one is going to show up. Relax. Go to sleep.
How can I? Something has to happen. Something has to happen for what I did.
Why does it?
Something has to…..it’s justice.
Justice? How many times have you been beaten into the ground and no one came to help? How many times have you been tormented by someone and not only did they get away scot-free, but they were popular? Their lives got better because they hurt you?
He stopped rocking, looking at Elliot.
Your Queen knows what she’s doing. The girl was just a hooker that was willing to do anything for a few bucks. If anything, you were merciful in ending her life. What use could she do to help the world when she was alive? Dead, she can help bring about a better tomorrow. It’s like Nealite said. You’re sparring lives by having taken her life. It’s the only way for this to work or else the Negaverse would have thought of something else. It’s this way, or the world become a worse place, the Moon Kingdom wins, and everyone suffers.
“But is it right?” His voice was soft, cracked from sobbing, and he looked with swollen eyes to the little, blue stuffed animal for the answer.
Only the soft sound of the snow falling outside replied.
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Posted: Sat Feb 13, 2010 1:30 pm
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Posted: Thu Feb 18, 2010 8:51 am
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Posted: Thu Feb 18, 2010 1:10 pm
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Posted: Sat Feb 20, 2010 5:16 pm
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Posted: Sun Feb 21, 2010 12:08 am
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Posted: Tue Feb 23, 2010 8:32 pm
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Posted: Sun Feb 28, 2010 10:17 am
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Posted: Sun Feb 28, 2010 10:29 am
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Posted: Sun Feb 28, 2010 6:20 pm
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