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Brimstone, Ilistala, & Halexei: Growing Pains

Still in progress...

Sitting on the wide ledge of the bay window that framed the small living room, Akina let the cool breeze stir the loose hair of her ponytail. Had another year gone by here? Another year of not knowing, of worrying, of raising children, of... everything? The elf was feeling lost, more so than she usually did, and worst of all, she didn't know why.

Sure, Naraka hadn't been around as much, which had put a strain on the household. Diligent work had turned her into a certified nurse, and she spent most of her days helping sick people at the clinic. In the past few months, it seemed like she left earlier and got home later--no doubt due in part to the young Dr. Firsch who started helping out a few months ago. Akina had noted the way her roommate had started to take more care in her appearance for work, and recently, Naraka had even started to come home from work smelling like wine and linens, in the middle of the night no less. Still, that wasn't any of Akina's business. She didn't even know why she cared so much; it bothered her, truth be to told, that she cared.

But the kids missed Naraka, her children. Anarriima was still growing herself, and suddenly, she was stuck taking care of the twins and Yurimi. Calliope helped out when she could, but the other elf was so busy cooking meals and keeping things clean that she had little time for anything else. Granted, Naraka's absence had led to some better relations over the Winter Break. Nadia returned from Hogwarts, and Naraka didn't sneer once; she was even pleasant, buying the young witch a new cauldron and some of that wizarding candy Akina always heard Nadia talking about. And with the new financial source coming into the household, Akina was able to take on less hours cleaning at the Lady's manor.

But what did she do with that free time? Sit in a window, alone.

Behind her, the clatter of footsteps came clodding down the stairs. Akina recognized them immediately as Brimstone's, her newest and maybe most special child. "Good morning, Brim," she said, turning to watch him enter the room. It was another day of "style" for her young son; he had decided to spike his hair today. Unfortunately, the careless pre-teen had missed the entire back of his hair, and it fell limply like bent grass.

Oblivious, he shot a quick smile at Akina, dragging his feet across the rug as he made his way over to the kitchen where Anarriima was eating cereal. Wordlessly, he tapped her shoulder twice, and his sister jumped up. Akina raised an eyebrow. "You shocked me again!" she fumed, stacking a clenched fist on either hip. "You did that on purpose!" Ana jabbed an accusatory finger at the Shattered.

Brimstone threw his hands up in mock defense, but his smirk told another story. "Don't be so paranoid, Ana." A quick hand snatched the half-full cereal bowl from the counter. Grabbing the spoon, he lifted several spoonfuls to his mouth, smiling bigger each time Ana made a sound of annoyance.

"You're such a child," Ana said, exhaling dramatically and rolling her eyes. Akina chuckled at the windowsill to see one child insult another for being, well, a child. "I was finished anyway. Now you have to wash the bowl." With that, she spun on her heel and marched off in the direction of the back bedrooms, probably to work on her sewing. Lately, Akina was not able to keep the house stocked with enough yarn and string to satisfy Ana's greedy hands; it was as if she intended to fill the house with knit scarves, socks, hats, and sweaters just in time for next winter.

Brimstone shrugged again and put the bowl back down on the counter, crossing to join his guardian by the windowsill. Akina scooted over to give her son enough space to lean again the sill beside her. "Have you been sitting here all day? Don't you have something better to do?" The elf laughed again, drawing a free hand through Brimstone's badly spiked hair. He tensed and swerved to avoid her hands. "Hey, hey!" Brim said, throwing a sharp glance her way. "I just did that."

"Well, you missed a spot," Akina joked, tapping the six-inch section of un-gelled hair. The Shattered's hands flew to the spot, but he tried to look nonchalant; it didn't work. Brimstone stood, probably to head upstairs and fix the oversight, but Akina grabbed his wrist before he could move.

The action was gentle, but Brim raised an eyebrow at how quick her reflex was. "What?" he demanded, the way that a child speaks to the one person they know has to love them. "I've got things to do--" Brimstone's voice was cut short by a prepubescent squeak, and even under his dark, black skin, his mother could feel his blushing.

Ignoring it, she continued, "I got you a gift while I was in Aekea the other day." Akina reached down to the satchel at her feet, pulling out a rectangle wrapped in brown paper. Brimstone's neon eyes blazed for a moment, giving away his excitement. Her son loved Aekea so much: the smoke, the machinery, the industrial zone, the pollution. It always disturbed the elf a bit, as she hated to go there, but her years with Brimstone had taught her that a compromise was necessary if her son was to be raised correctly. "It's nothing much," she added, passing the present to his waiting hands. "Think of it as a really late or just really early birthday present."

Brimstone was halfway through the paper before his mother could finish. A few more pulls, and he was holding what appeared to be a metal book. He turned it over in his hands a few times, tracing the intricate etchings on the front with his fingertips. It was a book of sorts, that much was clear, but as Brim examined it, there appeared to be no way of opening it. "It's tricky how to open it," Akina began to explain. "The man at the store had to show me how to do it seven times, I think. You just..." Her voice trailed off as Brimstone executed a series of taps and pushing on the cover. A sharp click sounded, and he flipped open the cover.

"Not too hard to figure out," he mused, completely oblivious to his mother's surprise. "It's a simple lock system, actually. You just have to feel for the soft indents on the cover so you know where to push in to release the hinge."

Akina blinked a few times. Her son always had a way of surprising her when she least expected it. "It's a journal," she said, recovering. "You can write whatever you want in there. Take notes even, if you don't feel like writing about your day or feelings."

"Like you do," Brimstone interrupted.

The elf smiled. Her son had walked in on her writing in her journal many times, but it still entertained her to see how he puzzled over why she would take so much time writing her feelings down when she could "just think about them and get the same thing done." "The casing is sealed against all weather conditions and acidic environments so..." Akina softened her voice, not wanting to insult her son. Brimstone was nowhere near mastering his abilities, and when he got careless or emotional, he had a tendency to leak a little acid. His bed was destroyed four times before Akina had to invest in a metal "weatherproof" version, and every so often, he just had a knack for destroying things; his mom didn't want this journal to be one of those casualities.

Brimstone nodded a few times in silent understanding. "Thanks, Mom," he said, turning to give her the quickest hug he could manage. Her son wasn't really the loving type, and to be honest, if anyone else had been around, she might have been lucky to even get the 'thank you.' So, Akina held him longer than he wanted, eventually letting him wriggle free and mutter something about her smothering him. "I think Ana and I are going to run to the arcade in the Market Square." He didn't formally ask permission, but Akina knew that this was his way of doing it.

"Alright," she said. "Just be careful. And I want you both home in time for lunch. Naraka is supposed to be stopping by to join us." Brimstone opened his mouth to reply, but one look from his mom silenced him. Instead, he nodded and took off down the hallway, probably to get Anarriima.

The elf turned back to the window, resting her head against its side. She knew that a day would come when Brimstone would not want to hug her anymore, when he would get himself into worse trouble than melting a few beds, when he would find other people to love, when he would leave her. And then only Akina would be left, alone to remember the days when he teased her and hugged her and, most of all, loved her. And it would be enough, she hoped, enough to keep her smiling somewhere inside herself. Somewhere deep, sure, but somewhere.

Brimstone had been running. A lot.

And he wasn't sure why.

Normally, the nuclear Shattered would be happy to spend his day in front of the television, maybe with a bottle of capers and some mozzarella cheese. But that was back before the night with Ilistala under the pier. Brim had tried many times to remember what had happened, how he woke up with stiff muscles and an aching head, but it was of no use. His mind was a blank page, a white screen. He attributed it to the whole new-older-body thing--surely that must have been confusing for his cells and nerves--but something didn't feel right.

And then the running began.

In the middle of the night, the pre-teen would wake up, sweating. He tried to go back to sleep, but nightmares plagued him. Blood and screams and a sulfur smell permeating his nostrils like low notes striking again and again in his mind. It wasn't like the kind of rock he got in his stomach when he thought about Ilistala; no, it was darker than that, so heavy it sunk his eyes back into their sockets. Sometimes, the sensation was so disturbing that Brim would throw up, but regardless of the intensity, getting back to sleep was out of the question. So, one night, he took a note from his loner guardian and went for a run through the forest surrounding his family's small house. He would clear his head and return to his home exhausted, collapsing into a deep sleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

So it had become a sort of habit.

Tonight was a little different. It had been a long night for Brim, starting with an hour spent watching scrambled porn on the tiny television in his bedroom. Usually, the adolescent boy would get in some personal time before falling asleep, generally around 1:00am, but his mind refused to quiet. He hoped to kill his energy by logging a few poems in his new journal. So he tried to channel his feelings--in secret, of course--and he eventually came up with one that began:

Black, black, black, black, black--
I can't see in the dark
Tunnel-vision in the heart
When will the world cut me some slack?

It was no good, but Brimstone was too young to know that. Besides, it made him feel better to write things out; maybe hiding his emotions all day was taking a toll on him. Still, all the poem-writing in the world wasn't going to calm his nerves. So he left, climbed out of his window down to the ground via a leaning oak up to the side of the house.

And he ran. The tree line was a few feet away, but his steps took him rapidly toward them. Breaking into the forest, the Shattered hopped barefoot over a thin stream, stubbing his toe on a rock. He cursed under his breath, but didn't stop; side-stepping a fallen log. All around him, owls hooted and mice scurried and deer fled from the steady pounding of his feet on the hard earth. Brimstone didn't realize he had been crying until he stopped to wash his face in the small pool of water that formed at the base of a rock at the mouth of the stream.

Leaning closer, the nuclear Shattered dragged his fingers across his face, watching the dark grey lines that chased his fingertips. Radioactive green eyes reflected back at him, and for a moment, Brimstone saw how different he looked--how disturbing. No one on TV looked like him, and he had never met people with skin as dark as his. And now, with this latest change, his skin literally had barbs, wire circling him. It was as if his body was trying to push everyone away, to make them all have a hard time getting close to him. Brimstone leaned closer, narrowing his eyes at his own reflection.

But it didn't narrow its eyes back. Instead, the reflection blinked, turned its head, and smiled malovently.

The Shattered froze, stunned. He might have run back home, but the shock and exhaustion caught up with him. With wide eyes, Brimstone stumbled backwards, falling into the rotting leaves and the new shoots of grass that sprang up all around him.

In the morning, he would wake to find his reflection back to normal and obedient. After checking and double-checking himself in the tiny pool many times, his feet again thudded against the hard ground, this time faster--he had to get back to bed before Akina realized that he was gone. Still, his stomach fluttered and chest seized at the image of his own reflection moving independently, fluttering on the water's surface.

The kitchen was quiet for the normally bustling Tokuwa household. Naraka was at work, of course, and Calliope had taken the twins to the park with Yurimi. Anarriima had disappeared early that morning, probably off with a friend, and Nadia was still at school. So, that left only Akina, who had the day off, and Brimstone, who didn't seem to do much of anything outside of their short school lessons. Left alone, the two floated around the house, eventually meeting up in the kitchen.

"How is the new journal?" Akina asked, watching her son move spoonful after spoonful of Cheerios from the chipped blue bowl to his dark mouth. It was mid-afternoon, but Brimstone had only been awake for a few hours. The maternal elf had noticed his late night departures on the nights she too found difficulty sleeping, and sure enough, he was waking later and later in the day.

Without slowing his meal down, Brimstone replied, "Good." He grabbed his half-full glass of orange juice and washed down the latest mouthful, watching his mother out of the corner of his eye. "Why aren't you eating?" He gestured to the empty space in front of her.

The elf smiled, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I ate my breakfast this morning." She paused and then added, "Like most people who aren't out until 4:38 in the morning."

Brimstone's hand froze for a second, letting a thin stream of milk trickle down his chin. The color was a stark contrast against his black skin. After a moment, he dropped his eyes and continued eating.

"And it was 3:32 the night before. Then 3:56 the night before that--"

A thud shook the table, but the elf did not jump. When she raised her eyes to her son's face, his eyebrows pinched together and his mouth drew into a hard line. "Am I on trial or something?" He dropped his spoon on the table. "Don't you have better things to do than stalk your son? What were you doing up anyway--following me, yeah? Don't I get any privacy?"

Akina raised an eyebrow, feeling her empathic senses flaring up in the face of Brimstone's rapidly increasing anger. "You're my son. I have a right to make sure you are okay." She braced herself, feeling another peak of rage.

"It is my life, godamnit!" Standing, Brimstone laid one hand on the corner of the table and shoved it--hard. Akina was on her feet in a second, diving over the moving table. Her son was a black mass before her, and she collided into him, forcing him to the ground. For all his talents, Brimstone's reflexes were nothing compared to his mother's.

He thrashed against her arms, letting his instincts take over. Acid seeped from his skin, and razorwire and glass slid out. Akina didn't make a sound as her arms absorbed the burns and cuts, but only wrapped her arms tighter, trusting on her elven-manufactured clothing to resist his body's attack better than her own weak skin. Her mind was elsewhere, sending soothing, calming thoughts to her son, using her own empathic powers to calm him down. This was her gift to him; she could anchor his demons.

After a few minutes, Brimstone stopped moving, and when Akina released him, the razorwire and glass had gone back inside of him. They stared at each other for a moment, and Akina got to her feet, offering a hand to her son. He didn't take it.

"Get off me," he demanded, albeit belatedly.

Shrugging his shoulders, the nuclear Shattered started to backpeddle toward the stairs that would take him to the privacy of his room.

"Brimstone." Akina's voice was hard as ice, and her son slowed, letting his radioactive gaze rise to her face. "I don't want to hear that language out of your mouth again."

Wordlessly, Brimstone turned and ran up the stairs, leaving his mother alone to wonder if this was the start of it, if this was the time that they were going to grow apart. It was normal; she knew that. But she also knew that something was troubling her son, and without her there to calm him down, the elf was scared, scared of what he might be capable of if his behavior went unchecked.