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FallenSiren

 
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PostPosted: Sun Feb 06, 2011 6:42 pm


[ META - - - March 1411 ]_____________________' Credence, Part I '

Credence - Message from a Crow
A crow has nestled incessantly nearby you, wherever you may be, and clutched within its beak is a frail roll of parchment wrapped around ever so carefully in black ribbon. The crow is gleaming a seeping black, as if it was tainted by the Death, and around it is the aura of careful whispers. You reach for it, though you might not know why, exactly, and you unravel the contents of the parchment and, in that instance, you hear--

"Grimm,"

In a hushed voice, the parchment, whose inked words also glow with an uneasy black, whispers to you this:

"Seymour Luikhart,
What a humble life you lead in your tiny little cabin in Shyregoed, with a Plague all to yourself! What would you, my little nomad, if we took all of that away from you?

Tick, tock, tick, tock... let's count the seconds before poor Seymour dies in the briskness of the winter, all while we take away his precious heirlooms."

After it whispers to you, the crow's brittle wings flutter as it disappears into the sky, and the parchment unravels in your hands and melts into a mess of delicate black ribbon.


        Seymour held in his breathe as the letter whispered its dark words, his hands now frozen cold not from the cause of environmental temperature but by the very chill the words has sent through his spine. His veins felt ice cold as the words slowly crept in to his mind and heart and for once, the forest felt dangerous. Stumbling backwards, the grimm stared at the ribbon remains of the cursed letter and immediately turned around.

        Run.
        Run back.
        Run back to the cabin.

        Stumbling and falling, Seymour didn’t even register the cold or the pain as the letter had already caused him so much dissonance that he could barely recognize what he himself was doing. His footsteps were getting clumsier and clumsier while his hands were beginning to turn red from pushing himself up away from the snow constantly. He needs to get home, he, no they, need to pack and get out. He’s not going to lose his family again like he had before. Leaving and seeking protection might be a better idea, then having the elements protects them for as much as nature is their friend, it is also their enemy.

        Slamming the house door open, Seymour rushed into the house and barely stopped himself before the dinner table, his hands turning white as his grip got tighter and tighter.

        He needs to breathe.

        “Seymour…? Seymour! What’s wrong?” A tiny voice asked, “Your hands are red! You need to warm yourself!”

        That voice, it was Clance, the others must be asleep in their tiny mitten beds. Did the young excito tuck them in? No, that should not be the question right now, they are facing a dangerous situation, they need to leave, they need to run, run…

        “Seymour, you look pale. Did something happen while you were out? Or is it from the cold?” Clance questioned once more, taking his time scaling up the table and place his much tinier hands onto Seymour’s. They were so small, yet from what he had heard, could hurt so many…those tiny little hands. The grimm took in a deep breath before trying to regain his calm, his hands still trembling as the words still refuse to leave his heavy heart: let’s count the seconds before poor Seymour dies in the briskness of the winter, all while we take away his precious heirlooms.

        His family…his current family made of nothing but tiny little beings who now sleep on the table beside his bed, tiny little things that has caused more than a riot with their illness. They were his, they are his, and he was never going to allow any harm to come to them. Slowly, his hands start to slack, and blood returned to circulate to his fingers. Panicking is not going to help the situation, what they need to do is talk, and leave.

        Their home wasn’t safe anymore.
PostPosted: Sun Feb 06, 2011 6:45 pm


[ META - - - March 1411 ]_____________________' Credence, Part II '

        “Lock up the basement, make sure the windows are locked and nothing would end up falling over and exploding while we’re…”

        Seymour rumbled on as he rushed through his list of needs to be done, checking every possible item in the house and making a list of what he currently has. Clance let out a small sigh, waving away the hands of the children that he must look after as his grimm continued to panic. For a good moment, the tall man had actually calmed down enough to tell Clance the creepy crow letter, but the anxiety of it came back twice folded and forced the grimm into panic mode once more. The excito, at first amused by the human’s panicking, only sat on the table and observed the other running around looking at things and stuffing others into a bag. It was around the tenth item that Seymour picked up when the tiny plague grew bored and wondered why the other was panicking so much. Maybe the pressure finally caught up to the poor man?

        “I’ll bring this, and…”

        The human continued to pace around the house, throwing items to the ground beside his bags only to pick them up moments later and thrown to the other side of the cabin. Clance shifted from one position to another, getting more and more irritated at the pacing. Why was the other so scared? It’s not as if the big bad wolf from those fairy tales were coming, so why bother being scared? Besides, Seymour was so very big, he must be bigger and stronger than those stupid wolves, so why is he so scared? The kiseru sat awkwardly on the table for a little more before the agitation finally caught up to him, and he stood straight up, stomping his little feet on the brown wooden table.

        “Seymour!” He shouted, puffing his tiny cheeks up, his arms crossed over in a disapproving manner as he continued to eye the taller human who ignored him.

        “Seymour!” He shouted once more, his foot now tapping in irritation. “Seymo—“

        “What!” The grimm snapped, spinning around to glare at the tiny plague, his breathing ragged. Anger seems to radiate from the tall man and it scared Clance ever so much to see such a sight, he had never seen his grimm so very angry. The tiny form trembled at the angry gaze before lowering his head in silent apology, and sat back down. Did…did he just angered Seymour? He…he… Clance looked up towards Seymour, who had returned to his pacing and packing, before letting out a small whimper and headed off towards his mitten bed.

        He didn’t mean it.

FallenSiren

 
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PostPosted: Sat Mar 26, 2011 4:02 pm


[ META - - - March 1411 ]_____________________' Credence, Part III [The Kick] '

        The sound of the last lock of his cabin doors was haunting, and it bothered not only Seymour but Clance as well. The cabin was their home, but out of fear, Seymour has decided that leaving the small building was for the best. There was no real destination in his mind currently, but staying in one place is not going to do them much good. If they keep moving around, maybe they could survive at least a little longer or maybe get away without any consequences but leg cramps from the walking. The pain doesn’t really bother Seymour much and neither does the biting cold, but the idea of losing his tiny charges…the idea within the content of the letter that has bothered him from beginning to end. The paranoia is still there.

        As the family traveled, Seymour could hear the laughter of the smaller children laughing and giggling as they stuck their tiny heads out of his pocket. They were enjoying this and oblivious to the possible danger they might face, is it bless or ignorance he should be envious of? It doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t matter. The grimm smiled slightly as the plagues waved up at him, but the smile was painful. He was so scared of what is to come. For a while, the silence of the snowy fields of shyregoed was welcoming but as time went by, it become more and more unnatural. It felt as if something was missing, a certain sarcastic remark or even a cheerful one of adventures…

        Why wasn’t Clance talking?

        “Clance? Why so quiet?” Seymour asked reaching his hand up to brush it against the excito hidden in his scarf, the tiny being made no movement to respond. The grimm frowned at the silence. “What is bothering you?”

        “…I’m sorry.” Clance replied quietly, snuggling against the human’s fingers affectionately. The words took Seymour by surprise and he turned to look at the plague sitting on his shoulder.

        “Why are you apologizing?”

        “I bothered you yesterday didn’t I? I didn’t mean to bother you! Honest!”

        Seymour stared for a good while, stopping in his tracks. His brows were knitted together as he tried to remember what the kiseru was walking about…was it? Oh. The grimm sighed before giving the plague a gentle pet on the head.

        “No Clance, it wasn’t your fault.” Seymour flashed the tiny being on his shoulder a faint smile, “I should apologize for shouting.”

        “Why were you so upset?”

        “The letter.”

        “The crow letter? But why?”

        “Clance, I don’t want to lose anyone.”

        “…You know I would never leave you Seymour.” Clance replied before drawing himself closer to the grimm’s neck and hugged it gently, leaving behind tiny black handprints on the man’s neck. Seymour nodded in response and continued his hike as the laughter of the other children once again returned to their ears.

        - - -

        The journey itself was relatively nice as the two made up. However, both grimm and plague felt unease by their surroundings. The silence was normal, but every time they turn, it feels as if a pair of eyes was watching them. Was it paranoia? Was it their mind playing tricks? Neither knows, but the odd silence got Seymour moving faster on his travels, pushing his limits. It wasn’t until 4 days into the trip did Clance point out that there seems to be crows following them, it was terrifying and unnerving, and both grimm and plague gaped at the blank letter within its beak. It was a blank letter, the same kind that were sent from the same people who had threatened Seymour before.

        The crows were following them.

        “Seymour? We need to find a place to hide.”
PostPosted: Tue Mar 29, 2011 3:05 pm


[ META - - - March 1411 ]_____________________' Credence, Part IV [ A Lovely Corpse ] '

        It has been a week since they’ve started traveling and it has been a week since Seymour allowed the plagues within his possession to leave out of his sight. The stunted within his company all thought of it as bizarre but Clance could only give them sad smiles and comforting pats on the heads. Neither the grimm nor plague wanted to talk to the stunteds about the complicated situation, and how the crows has been following them since the day the cursed message arrived. Of course, this doesn’t stop the more observant ones from commenting on the creepy black birds.

        “Clance? The birds are watching us again.” Prince piped up, sticking his head out and eyeing the bird standing on the branches of a pine tree.

        “I know Prince. Just pretend they’re not there.” Clance commented before letting out a small shiver, slowly looking towards the scenery behind them. He could have sworn he could hear footsteps echoing just behind them moments ago…was it just part of his imagination? The plague shivered again before latching himself to Seymour’s scarf, seeking security from the warm object before feeling his grimm’s hand. Clance let out a soft sigh before relaxing against the hand and the softy material within his grasp. He was safe as long as Seymour was near, no one would be able to take him away from the man as long as the grimm was alive and kicking.

        - - -


        Walking, walking, and walking, that was all there was to the trip. Seymour was fine with it and he even enjoys it, but the looming presences of the crows were more than enough to destroy that enjoyment. Every movement he makes causes anxiety in the pit of his stomach and every time the sound of wings flapping causes paranoia in his mind, they were haunting and they were causing more destruction in his everyday live then they should.

        “You really shouldn’t daydream.”

        “Huh?”

        “Seymour!” Clance yelled as a man snatched him, Seymour sucked in a breath in surprised before sprinting after the man. He would have caught up if the crows hadn’t rushed into him.

        “Get away!” Seymour snapped, swatting away at the birds as more and more appeared. Where had the entire flock hidden itself in the first place? He could careless; he needs to catch up to that man!

        - - -


        “Let me go! Let me go!” Clance shouted, flailing within the grasp of the stranger’s hand. How was he supposed to get out? How? He needs to go back to Seymour. The plague continued to flail, though once in a while their eyes would meet and the stare of the stranger would scare him even more than before. This guy was nuts!

        - - -


        Kaw! Kaw!


        “Get out of the WAY!” Seymour yelled once more before snatching a bird from the air, he glared at the haunting eyes of the animal before throwing it to the ground. He could hardly care if the birds were dead, they were blocking his way from Clance, and he needs to get to the plague before the thief does something to him. Seymour continued running after the footsteps left behind, swinging his hand hard against the birds before him, he barely winced as his boots made contact with the bodies on the ground, crushing the flying black curses he had been so paranoid of before.

        Running, just keep following those tracks, just keep running.

        Seymour picked up his speed as he caught sight of the thief in the distance. The grimm let out a low growl before sprinting forward and wrestled the other man to the ground, his hand clutched tight around the wrist the thief was holding Clance in.

        “Give me back what is mine.” He hissed. His eyes full of anger and fury as his grip tightened around the man’s wrist. He could barely register the other man’s blabbering of words until the plague was dropped into the snowy ground.

        “Seymour!” Clance called out happily before latching himself to the man’s legs. The grimm turned his attention to the tiny black being in the snow, before glaring at the thief once more.

        “Don’t ever touch Clance. Ever,” Seymour growled, “Or I will snap more than just your wrist.”

        “W-what?”

        Snap.

FallenSiren

 
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FallenSiren

 
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 05, 2011 10:29 pm


[ META - - - March 1411 ]_____________________' Credence, Part V '

        “Seymour? Are you ok?” Clance asked as he snuggled against the grimm’s neck. He gave the man a worried glance only to receive a kind smile…it felt so much more natural to see the tall man smile then the anger he held for the kidnapper.

        “Are you sure?” Clance asked again to only receive a gentle nudge from the man’s hand. Seymour was never violent or harmful to anything, only maybe when he is hunting but even then it was because of necessity, but still, to see such a display of violence from the grimm was rare and a little horrifying. The plague let out a small sigh before curling what he could of the scarf around his tiny body, covering him from head to toe. The anger Seymour had shown, it was for the kiseru’s sake right? Shouldn’t Clance be glad the man was worried for him? Why does the knowledge that Seymour can get angry scare the poor plague so very much?

        “Clance, stay hidden”

        Seymour’s voice snapped the plague out of his thoughts as he slowly halted in his tracks. Clance hugged the side of his grimm’s neck before burying under the scarf around the man’s neck even more, he needs to be as invisible as possible.
        The grimm check for every one of the stunted plagues within his pockets, making sure they were as well hidden as possible before entering the town of Lorne.
PostPosted: Tue Apr 05, 2011 10:30 pm


[ META - - - April 1411 ]_____________________' Credence, Part VI [ Hesitate and Fleeting ] '

        Seymour stepping back and staring horrifyingly at him is something he didn’t expect first thing in the morning. Well, becoming larger and becoming human was something Clance didn’t expect first thing in the morning when he woke up. He had been feeling unwell and almost sickly for the past few days, but was it because his body was changing? The child let out a small sniffle as he glance up at Seymour, horrified at his own condition.

        “S-Seymour!” He sobbed slightly as he held up his hand, seeking comfort in the only person he has ever really interacted with. Clance clung to Seymour as the grimm picked up the young child and attempted to calm the poor kid down. The kiseru let out a couple of quiet sobs before his crying stopped, looking up at Seymour, he was about to comment on the current situation but that was interrupted when the grimm started coughing. Clance frowned and wiped the rest of his tears away before giving his grimm a good look.

        “You don’t look too well Seymour.”

        “It’s the smell.”

        “You sure?”

        Seymour nodded before staring out at the area outside of the place he was presently staying. Even though he had made sure there was no space that could allow the air outside slip in, the smell of the rotting carcasses outside of his room was horrifying. To think the birds that had been so threatening before are now dead on the ground and smelling like they have been dead for months. He had tried to lift one of those up a few days back, in hopes of getting rid of the horrid smell, but the attempt was fatal. The tiny bodies were heavy as a rock and it was impossible to move them. Seymour also became aware of the sudden decline of his health, or so he kept telling himself. The signs of the illness he has now were almost like…No, it couldn’t be the plague. The blacken tips of his fingers were probably just from the birds.

        “Seymour? Is something wrong?”

        The grimm looked at the child in his arms. No, the illness can’t be the plague, he has Clance to look after and it was said that having a plague means immunity to the black plague…doesn’t it? Maybe the effects only work when the plagues are…plagues? Seymour bit the inside of his lip subconsciously.

        No he probably doesn’t have the plague, even if the signs are all there. The illness appeared way too suddenly, or maybe that’s only with specific people? Seymour’s frown deepened but he snapped out of his thoughts when Clance decided it was a good time to give his grimm a smack from both his hands to both the grimm’s cheeks.

        “Seymour!” Clance exclaimed, “You’re not feeling too good right? Maybe you haven’t slept enough! Why don’t we both take a nap and see how you feel after?”

        The suggestion threw Seymour back, for neither of them were the type to take naps, but the sudden suggestion sounded...wonderful.

        Maybe it was just what they needed.


FallenSiren

 
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PostPosted: Wed Apr 06, 2011 7:31 pm


[ META - - - April 1411 ]_____________________' Credence, Part VII [ Your Thin Frame ] '

        For the past few days, Seymour did nothing but stay inside the room with Clance and the stunted. The younger ones wanted to go home, the ones who understood the situation tried to keep the younger ones company and calm; Clance wanted the birds to disappear and Seymour, well, he was just glad the kiseru had reverted back to his normal self and the signs of the black plague was leaving him. However, the horrible sight of dead crows littering the grounds continues to bother him as every time he looks out the window, there they lay. The horrid smell hardly bothers the grimm any more even though the smell of decay was strong as ever. Seymour sighed as he, once again, looked at the massive amount of corpses. The image was so very terrifying yet it was almost normal to see the dead birds now…It really was starting to get to him.

        Flap, flap.


        The sound of wings flapping startled Seymour and as he looked down, a white dove looked right back at him. The grimm was confused by the bird but he was even more confused by its suddenly movements…was it choking? Opening the window and hissing at the strengthen stench of decay, he was about to reach out for the bird when the sounds of whispers haunt him once more.

        "You have a choice."

        Seymour breathed in sharply and was about to slam the window shut when the whisper continued, "To make a Plague human or to taunt the Grimms further of the Black Death, grind these feathers to dust and feed it to the object of your attention."

        Was this a horrid prank? Neither of the choices sound reasonable at all. Seymour eyed the feathers the dove had delivered and then towards the dead crows outside. Was it from those? His thoughts were interrupted as the dove flew away from its place, leaving behind the parchment and the bundle of feathers. The whispers continued, "Now you know how wretched it feels, to be human and feel human sickness. Pray, will you play God with me?"

        God? To play…god? There was heat, and a desire burning in his chest. He wanted so very badly to hurt whomever sent this yet…this has never happened before. Was this anger? It felt so much more painful and hateful then the last time. The grimm let out a hiss before slamming the window shut, startling the plagues sitting on the bed, and closed the blinds, encasing the room in a dull glow. The feathers and the parchment could rot for all he cares, he will never play god for that choice was never anyone’s.

        “Seymour? Is something wrong?” Clance asked, wondering what was wrong with his poor grimm. He could feel the anger radiating from the quiet man.

        “Nothing is wrong,” Seymour lied, “It was just the birds that were bothering me.”
PostPosted: Wed Apr 06, 2011 7:32 pm


[ META - - - April 1411 ]_____________________' Credence, Part VIII [ Leaves of the Clover ] '

        The smell, it burns.

        Seymour hissed as the smell of death plugged his senses once more. Ever since the demonic pigeon (Seymour refuses to call it as a dove) had left its message and mark, a strange smell has started occupying the room aside from the horrid smell of dead crows. The smell was sickening, but there was nothing he could do to block it out. When he went to ask the plagues if they smelt something new, they just shook their heads. Only he, the grimm, could smell it lingering around him and it was hard trying to pretend the smell didn’t exist. Hoping for the smell to leave, he had decided to take a walk beforehand, but it was all in vain, the smell refused to leave.

        “Seymour, what’s wrong?” Clance asked as the door of the room closed, “Are the bird corpses still bothering you?”

        “No,” Seymour replied as he got everyone settled on the bed once more, “Just been thinking.”

        “You mean about the sudden deaths of the neighbors?” The plague asked once more, fiddling with the folds of the blanket. A couple had entered a few days back, only to have died not even 3 days within their stay. It was the first time Clance had ever seen a dead person, and it didn’t seem as horrifying as Seymour had told him. It was as if they were sleeping while being really ill, and never waking up as their bodies are lowered to become food for the maggots. Wasn’t it the natural to die?

        “Yes, that.”

        “Why? You didn’t cause it.”

        “Just… I have this feeling that it is.” Seymour replied, ending the questioning abruptly bu redirecting his attention elsewhere. Their deaths felt like his fault, maybe he shouldn’t have left home, maybe he should had tried facing the threat at home. Maybe it was the fact he was keeping Clance here that those people got sick…he did bump into them a while back.

        He needed to stop thinking.

        Taking a sit near the window, the grimm looked out and made a face of discomfort as the sight of dead birds returned to him again. He had almost forgotten about them for a moment there, oh, and the feathers. It would seem they were just like the crows, heavy, black, and probably originated from one of those demons. The small bundle is still sitting there on the window sill outside, refusing to be blown away from the freezing wind. They just sit there, taunting him to take them.

        Well, the taunt was working.

        Seymour stared at the feathers for a while, thinking about his choice, and decided against his earlier judgment, he will keep the feathers. Rather the power of the feathers will linger isn’t his problem, but these should be better research materials then the actual dead bird itself…Besides, if he wanted to check rather these originated from one of the birds, he could easily just pick some off a corpse on the street.

        “What’s that in your hand?” Clance piped up, staring at the feathers curiously. Seymour didn’t reply as he closed the window, the feathers disappearing into his pack only moments later.

        “Seymour?”

        “Nothing. Just something a bird left behind.”

        “Oh, okay. It’s not going to turn me human again right?”

        Seymour let out a small snort to cover up his laughter before reaching over to stroke the plague. The grimm shook his head at Clance in reply.

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PostPosted: Wed Apr 13, 2011 10:47 pm


[ META - - - April 1411 ]_____________________' Credence, Part IX [ Grimms and Plagues ] '

        For the past six days, everything has been quiet.

        No abnormalities occurred, and it seems as if the events from the past couple of weeks were nothing but a dream. However, Seymour knows better than to believe that, the haunting image of the dead crows still pollute the poor man’s scenery of the town after all. He was certain the town would be much more pleasant if the dead bodies would just up and di—

        The grimm rubbed his eyes as Clance closed the blinds on him and everyone that was within the room. The tiny plague looks up at Seymour, a silent plead to the men to ignore the sight outside. Seymour only smiled and placed the kiseru back on the bed. The two just sat there enjoying the company of each and everyone in the small room, barricading their small, peaceful world from the events that has happened for the past five to six weeks. Of course, it wasn’t that simple, but Seymour would be more then glad to let Clance believe such an easy thing such as turning a blind eye could cure such horrifying images.

        The plague was no more than a child after all.


        A faint sound of wings alerted the two from their momentary peace, and both of them held in their breath. Were the birds back? It couldn’t be, they were inside! The sound of wings echoed once more before the grimm slammed the door open. However, what was behind the door surprised him. The being before him was not human and looked more like a ghost. Seymour jumped back slightly when the spector smiled at him.

        "It was a pleasure to get to know you these past six weeks, but I'm afraid it's my time to go. The Plague Doctor has a new competitor-- I am him, and it looks like you and your Plague might have to get used to more visits with your new ally." Said the ghostly figure.

        Seymour wasn’t sure what to think of that, and was about to ask when the man saluted and dispersed into thin air. The grimm hissed when the body of a dead crow took his place, and took a hold of the hollowed body when it suddenly sprung back to life. He sucked in a breath of surprise, before chucking the bird out the window (opened by Clance and the children).Slamming the window shut and making sure to close the door, the grimm and plague pair huddled together on their bed. Their eyes were wide and terrified.

        Their overactive senses didn't calm down until twelve days after this event.
PostPosted: Fri Apr 15, 2011 12:28 pm


[ META - - - May 1411 ]_____________________' Credence, Part FINALE '

        Der Pestdoktor
        SEYMOUR LUIKART
        simple nomad

        A crow is waiting for you, a piece of parchment clutched in its beak, crinkled and wrapped in black ribbon.

        The crow isn't the same kind of dead husk as the one that seemingly started this mess, it eyes beady and watery and its feathers ruffled with the thin details of lighting and shade, with no staunch and pestilent aura about it. When you try to reach for it, the crow merely hops away and drops the parchment without a second's thought, dumbly cooing about until you either catch it or until it decides to fly away into a distance, its wingers lazily fluttering about it. The parchment doesn't unwrap itself, but the ribbon's grip slips easily and the parchment is crispy to the touch if you try to open it.

        Once you do open it, however, the piece of paper is wordless, but it gives off a tired but satisfied laugh, the same old and starkest voice out of the pond of whispers that spoke to you around the ides of March. "What a successful trial this was," the voice coos while the parchment withers and falls between your fingers as specks of dust, "I must say, all you Grimms are a troubled lot."

        The ribbon seeps and liquefies, sunk in a black aura, and without a moment's warning it slinks over to you like a tired beast. Instead of disappearing, it juts and freezes in form, moment by moment twitching in mass, exhausting back into the liquefied form, then becoming bigger and bigger as the moments pass.

        "You see, I've learned something from all of you, what two-thousand and growing lot there are, and what few hundred have seemingly passed my trials alive. This aura, this Furvus Elixir, it's truly what you make of it... and I've been deceived all along, and so have you. Welcome to my world of smoke and mirrors."

        The black form with limbs rolls over, shivering and crumpled in on itself, now fully in form. Neck arched upward, it looks at you, a featureless face with a pair of glimmering white and pearl-round eyes. Aged and wrinkled, the husk of an old man, its back is hunched over while it rests on the floor as your grandfather once did, a kiseru tucked between its teeth. Wafts of smoke encompass the area and it looks at you, a Plague's dotted mouth frowning at you. Aged hands reach to the floor and it lifts itself up, placing a viny hand on its back, trying to straighten itself while it walks closer to look at you, its eyes squinted.

        "Ah," it frowns, leaning away from you, "Seymour, how tall you are!" It walks around you in a circle, dragging its feet, its kiseru abound with smoke yet. "Big, too. But where is this place?"

        It pauses to look around, then glances back at you, frown deeper yet. "This isn't the cabin... this isn't my home. This isn't our home, Seymour. Where did you go?"

        Shaking its head, it walks away from you, hands wrapped around its back. Chuckling, it murmurs, "Oh, I understand, now... you want me gone, don't you? You're too grown for me, now," chuckling, he turns and faces you. "You've forgotten all about me."

        Waving, it bows its head to you, then melts and collapses into a puddle of black liquid.

        The past seven weeks has felt like nothing but a horrible dream. They were first threatened by an ominous letter, got attacked and bothered by demonic birds, someone almost stole Clance, and of course, getting visited by a specter in board daylight. Seymour knew his life was going to become relatively complicated the moment Clance appeared, but this adventure was not what he had in mind. More than once, the incidents they had bumped into tested the grimm’s trust in his companion, and every time, Seymour’s subconscious desperation refuses to acknowledge the possibility of harm the plague could cause. For the grimm everything is fine now, and as long as Clance is with him, it will stay that way. However, for the plague, as long as Seymour is happy, the world is as it should be.

        Clance frowned as he felt his grimm flinch at the sound of wings.

        “Seymour, they aren’t coming after us anymore.”

        “Reflex.”

        “Okay.”

        They continued on, but the sound of flapping wings returned and there before them, a lone crow stood, watching them as they got closer and closer, a piece of parchment within its beak. Clance let out a whimper as he buried himself deeper into the folds of Seymour’s scarf as the man got closer to the bird. The grimm reached out to retrieve the piece of paper, but the crow hopped back in caution, dropping the parchment into the snowy grounds. The bird cooed at the grimm once before hopping away and took to the air.

        Seymour’s eyes never left the bird even as it took flight, and Clance’s eyes never left the parchment upon the ground. As the white parchment unwrapped itself from the ribbon, the wordless paper once again whispered hauntingly to the grimm and plague duo.

        "What a successful trial this was," the voice cooed, "I must say, all you Grimms are a troubled lot.”

        The plague let out another pitiful whimper as he watched the parchment slowly desintigrate into specks of dust, the ribbon liquefying into an unknown beast, creeping ever so slowly towards them. The whimpering slowly grew quieter as Clance felt the comfort of Seymour’s hand near him. The plague could feel his grimm’s nervous twitch as the beast before them liquefied into a black goo again, though its size seems to grow by the second.

        The voice continued.


        "You see, I've learned something from all of you, what two-thousand and growing lot there are, and what few hundred have seemingly passed my trials alive. This aura, this Furvus Elixir, it's truly what you make of it... and I've been deceived all along, and so have you. Welcome to my world of smoke and mirrors."

        Stepping back, Seymour gasped as the goo morphed. He took another step back as it took a shape all too familiar to the grimm, a shape he wish were not a form of hallucination for he was sure it now lies six feet under.

        “S-seymour! I’m scared.” The plague cried as he clung to the grimm’s scarf, but the grimm did not reply. He was too shocked, stunned at the figure before him to even move. The disapproving frown upon the figure’s dark face made the man flinch. Seymour’s eyes never left the figure as it circled around him.

        "Ah," it frowns, leaning away from you, "Seymour, how tall you are!" It continues to circle the two, dragging its feet on the white grounds. "Big, too. But where is this place?"

        Seymour’s voice fails to respond, and his mind fails to acknowledge the event that is happening now. He could only feel the sparks of fear in his chest; he could only believe the figure before him is no more than a specter for the man before him has to be dead.

        It can’t be his Grandfather.
        That man is dead.


        "This isn't the cabin... this isn't my home. This isn't our home, Seymour. Where did you go?"

        They left home to be safe, they’re still in Shyregoed, they’re traveling, they’re seeing the world he failed to indulge himself in before… The jumbled sentences within the man’s head settled upon the shadow’s chuckling.

        "Oh, I understand, now... you want me gone, don't you? You're too grown for me, now," chuckling, he turns and faces Seymour. "You've forgotten all about me."

        The words hurt, they ache, they pull at the guilt within the grimm’s heart. The pain was like acid, slowly eating away at the man’s mind; it grew worse as the figure collapsed into a puddle again.

        “—mour.”

        He never forgot, he couldn’t forget.

        “Se—mour.”

        He never wanted him gone. The grimm wanted nothing more than for the man to stay, he wanted him home and not dead. The grandfather he knew was dead, and that thing couldn’t have been him. Could it? It sounded like him, the form looked like him but it also looked like –

        “Seymour!”

        The grimm snapped out of his daze.

        “Seymour! Please don’t cry!”

        Crying? Was he? He reached up and felt his face, the glove was wet.

        “Why are you crying? Was it because of that thing? Did it make you cry? I…I’ll go, um, yell at it to leave you alone! Please don’t cry.”

        Seymour wiped at what was left of the tears before taking his glove off. He held his hand near the plague and allowed himself a small, pathetic smile as the kiseru hugged it.

        “I’m fine.” He replied weakly, “I’m fine.”

        “I don’t know why you’re upset, but if you want to go home, we can go home! A-and if what the shadow said is still bothering you then I’ll just help you remember! …um, what did you forgot about him?”

        The grimm chuckled at the plague’s simple thinking, it always did lighten up horrible situations. Though. did he really forget about his grandfather? Seymour thought once more before continuing his way once more on the snowy roads. He gave the puddle once last look before stepping over it and leaving the event behind him. When he finally returns to the cabin, he will leave some flowers on the old man’s grave. He will apologize and bring Clance to the grave with him. Seymour stopped in his tracks and looked at the plague wrapped in his scarf.

        Clance was the beloved kiseru his grandmother gave to his grandfather. He had kept the plague with him always even before the plague became an excito. Maybe this was his way of remembrance to the old man. Seymour chuckled pathetically at himself before taking another step.

        He didn't forget, he can't even if he wanted to.

FallenSiren

 
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FallenSiren

 
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PostPosted: Wed Apr 20, 2011 5:01 pm


[ ENTRY - - - May 1411 ]_____________________' Home '

        A tiny snore could be heard from the warm folds of Seymour’s scarf as the man tread through the snowy grounds of Shyregoed, heading in a beeline to his home. A couple of the occupants of the cabin had decided they were going to go on an adventure, leaving only the man and his excito behind. It was sad and a little bitter, but the grimm had no reason to refuse their requests.

        If they wanted to leave, they can leave.


        He gave a heavy sigh, leaving behind only footprints and a dissipating fog of air as he continued through the white tundra. It was times like these that Seymour misses the tiny chatter of plagues in his pockets. Possibly an odd notion, but he had gotten used to seeing tiny beings just popping out left and right, questioning whether they were at their destination yet. Another sigh escaped the man’s lips. The family only consists of Seymour and Clance now, and it will take some time to get use to the silence once more. The plague will probably complain about this, but – the grimm had a fond smile on his face – at least Clance wouldn’t leave him.

        One step.
        Two step.
        A trail of foot prints leading back home.

        “Seymour, are we there yet?” A tiny voice questioned, followed by the faint sound of shuffling coming from the scarf. Clance stuck his head out with a groggy expression on his face, his hands stretching out into the cold air. Seymour chuckled, “Almost.”
        8:.
PostPosted: Tue May 10, 2011 1:40 pm


[ ENTRY - - - May 1411 ]_____________________' Rest '

        Well deserved rest.
        Just a small filler on how they spent the next couple of days sleeping.

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FallenSiren

 
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PostPosted: Sun Dec 04, 2011 2:48 pm


[ ENTRY - - - November 1411 ]_____________________' Be Still '

[ Be Still ]
OoC: Seymour does not remember this event.
Never said Clance forgot, but he prefers not talking about it at all :3c
PostPosted: Sun Dec 25, 2011 12:29 pm


[ ENTRY - - - February 1412 ]_____________________' Gadu '

        They were in Rosstead and not a minute after clearing his head did the man request to be sent to Gadu.

        Seymour looked out the window of the carriage and then back to his hands resting on his knees. They had just been teleported to the town of Rosstead immediately after the meeting. What was the meeting about again? He can’t really remember, the event was foggy and felt like waking up from a really bad dream. Something happened but not one single detail of the event was clear to him. Thankfully, he didn’t have to walk and the fee for the carriage didn’t come from his pocket, it was paid by the council and he was heading to Gadu for some answers. He needs to know what happened. Clance hasn’t fully awoken yet, still sleeping within the grimm’s scarf occupying one of the free spaces. It doesn’t seem like the plague will be awake for some time, not that it was a bad thing, it kept him from being bored after all.

        A soft sigh escape Seymour’s lips as he lost himself to his thoughts, only moving ever so slightly to keep his legs from falling asleep. Maybe he should have headed back to the cabin first before heading to Gadu, they could have packed a couple more clothing or brought a long some extra necessities before heading there. Sadly, he can’t go back now, they were already half way to their destination.

        He really should have thought ahead.

        A moan alerted the grimm of his plague’s awakening, the tiny being popping his head out of the layers of fabric. The man smiled before picking Clance up and held him close, resulting in the excito looking up at him in confusion.

        “Seymour? Where are we?”

        “We are in a carriage, heading to Gadu.”

        “Why are we going to Gadu?”

        “Questions Clance. I need answers to something I can’t remember.”

        “Oh…wait, where did the stage go?”

        “We’re not in the meeting place anymore, we got teleported out.”

        “Oh.” The plague trailed off before crawling out of Seymour’s hand and onto his shoulder. He shifted a little before dimming the area comfortable, his eyes slowly glancing towards the window.

        - - -

        He was bored.

        Clance let out a loud yarn as he stared at the finite amount of trees they had past for who knows how long, it was getting ridiculous and not to mention dull. It had been tree after tree after tree with the occasional bird or squirrel but even then it is but natural occurrences. Nothing interesting has happened once since he woke up. And unlike before, his grimm has taken to taking a nap…which was very unusual for the tall man. He usually hated them.

        Giving it a slight shrug, the plague went back to look at the repetitive scenery. If he had hair, he would be trying to rip them out by now.
        He was never going to ride a carriage without bring company again, company aside from Seymour. Then again, that is only if they had any. Everyone seems to like to leave them after staying for a short amount of time. It wasn’t very nice, and sometimes Clance would wonder what they’re doing. Probably something much more interesting than sitting in this box with wheels, and not to mention actually doing something. Oh well, what can he do?

        The plague sighed before resuming his, rather boring, sightseeing. At least he was doing something.

FallenSiren

 
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FallenSiren

 
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PostPosted: Sun Feb 19, 2012 3:53 pm


[ ENTRY - - - February 1412 ]_____________________' In the Counselor's care '

[ In the Counselor's care ]
It seems what I forgot was something I really should have remembered.
Amory also gave me the privilege of studying under him in psychology...I have no idea what that is.

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