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 Posted: Mon May 12, 2014 7:31 pm
Quiver
"Oh," Lurks said, pleased and startled by it, a warmth tingling in his empty chest cavity, like when a begrudging Vaisel gave in and offered its affections through his sheer enthusiasm, and it was enough to make his wings flutter in glee.
"Qarah is not nice," he offered, toying with his scarf (or one of them, perhaps two) -- "It is not very nice and is hateful, and the Mother likes me so much much much more. But, the other is my brother, and he is not as many hatefuls."
Talk of his brother, though, was with a fonder tone, rather than the dark and acidic spitting way he talked of Qarah, tinged with frustration and the true signs of fury.
"You are my favourite, too, so I am glad."
Maybe he could take the Original outside, sometime. Perhaps if he could find a leash, and a way to make sure that the pretty weapon that was small did not remove them.
Maybe, maybe. The mother had not forbade it.
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Posted: Mon May 12, 2014 10:47 pm
Smoke"I have always felt lost," Taym agreed, and he'd meant it to just be a groveling show of acquiescence before he realized with a pang that it wasn't untrue. He'd always felt totally self-confident until eight, nine years ago, when the world abruptly turned itself inside out on him. "Maybe that's why she put you in charge of me. She gave the other two the stupid ones to teach, but she gave you the less stupid one. I am learning," he repeated, his stomach turning. He indicated the shapes on the walls, the carved signs and drawings*, pointing with the tip of his knife. "I bet you could tell me what those mean, if you wanted." Watching him smoke made his head buzz, and he hated himself for having a habit that gave him another thing to crave when he should have been too busy craving food and water and autonomy. astrazilla *as i randomly decide that's the room he's in, sure
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Posted: Wed May 14, 2014 1:34 am
HeldLurks had fallen asleep clinging to him as though he were a security blanket or a toy and at first all he could think was: so they do sleep. It was a thought unaccompanied by triumph or discovery--by any feeling at all. It was after the messages but before the orders, and he lay corpse-still in the darkness and had the fleeting hysterical curiosity to wonder if America had felt in his arms like he did in Lurks', all sharp pointed edges, before the thought was chased away by the realization that things inside of Lurks and in the drapery of what passed for his clothes were moving. The shadowy shape of a moth crawled out of the hole in Lurks' face and onto Taym's shoulder, its ephemeral wings flicking, and then it fluttered to light on his temple. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to startle, not to cry out, not to move, because he was afraid of what Lurks would do, because the constant cossetting of his wakefulness was even worse than this. But he could not stop himself from shaking, or from succumbing to a bone-deep need to cry. He felt something scuttling across his wrist, and did not dare to look. He wept silently, as obedient a toy as he could make himself, trying to pace the wracking sobs of his inhales.
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Posted: Wed May 14, 2014 1:43 am
Held
Sleep was a fond indulgence rather than a bodily need, but it was one that Lurks partook in more frequently than most. But as he slept, his companions-- his extension of self -- did not.
The shaking did not rouse him at first, nor did the crying, but eventually, the Original shifted minutely enough to bring him out of rest. The scavenger yawned, high and brief, and reached up to pat his face with as much gentility as a skeleton hand could carry.
"It is okay," he explained, slow and patient and still-sleepy, in a different time with a different gaunt creature, back before the islands were destroyed and before the Mother took him on his first adventure, when he had been a colt that had never seen the human's blue sky, in a room of dry earth dimly lit by bioluminescent plants, a shared quarters where many Famine rested.
"The storm is aaaalmost gone." Another yawn, and then Lurks wrapped both arms around one of the Original's, clingy. "Go back to sleep, brother."
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Posted: Wed May 14, 2014 1:54 am
HeldHe thought of Mal when Mal was still tiny, when Mal was still an annoyance, following him down the hall and crying in fear of the thunder until Taym shushed him and led him by the hand. Ros scared because their father had heard a noise in the backyard and gone to investigate. Caleb coughing coughing coughing in his arms while his mother called the pediatrician again, because by the time Caleb came around Taym was used to looking after his siblings and could do so on his own. Because he liked it. Because he never felt more at home and more important than when he held and comforted. He bit down on the inside of his lip and tried, unsuccessfully, to still the tears, and he told himself that if he found the fountain again he would scrub himself in it until he bled, and to hell with aftermath.
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