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 Posted: Mon Mar 02, 2009 8:06 pm
Quinn winced when he felt a kick in his side that jolted him back to being awake. Being awake wasn't fun, and it revealed many aches and pains he had hoped to escape. But then he saw who had kicked him, and thoughts of his aches and pains quickly disappeared. He had actually fallen asleep! Vale could have killed him!
But he didn't.
That doesn't mean he won't. Don't let your guard down.
The boy wasn't sure what he felt about this. On the one hand, he assumed Vale must hate him completely and totally at this point. On the other hand, he wasn't dead. And he could have been. Maybe there was still hope for them after all?
Why do I always end up with the wierd guys?
"I'm awake! I'm awake!" Quinn slurred, tottering to his feet. He was a bit more in control of himself than that, though; he wanted to make sure Vale thought he was completely vulnerable.
The godling couldn't actually remember why he had drawn the picture in the first place. He was sure he had some sort of master plan going on that was brilliant and everything, but he couldn't seem to remember it anymore. This was troubling.
Quinn squinted at Vale's face. "You look...angry." He glanced at the rainbow on the other godling's body, and the picture on the wall, and then back at his face.
"Oh. That."
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Posted: Mon Mar 02, 2009 9:51 pm
"Yes, that," he growled. If Quinn had worn a shirt, the outraged godling would be grabbing the other boy by his lapels. As it was, he paced to and fro with short, frustrated steps, like a jaguar trapped in a cage. For Valeriu, this cage was mental more than anything.
Unluckily for Quinn, there were no bars between the spectator and the predator should Vale decide to attack.
"V'hy? V'hy are you messing v'ith my head?" He glared, stalking in close and tail lashing in agitation. "Ee't ee's one thing to honestly tell a man you ee'ntend to kill him. But you! Your mindgames! V'hat ee's the point? Ee's ee't funny for you? To lie and manipulate and trick?"
It was another grand, cosmic joke, he figured. He was the one stuck with the great manipulator, the cunning god - yet Quinn actually suited his place far more.
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2009 11:37 am
Quinn shook his head, and contemplated his possible choices of action. He could tell the truth, but Quetzalcoatl probably wouldn’t be happy about that. He could run, but he was certain Vale would catch up, and wouldn’t be particularly happy with him. Fighting was probably out of the question at this point, too. He didn’t have any more electricity, and if it came down to purely physical combat the godling knew he would lose.
Or he could tell the truth.
Quinn thought of the best way to word it. “I’m not messing with your head. Not on purpose, anyway. I don’t want to kill you. Really. No, it isn’t funny. It isn’t funny at all.” He sighed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you the other day. When I kissed you. I didn’t even know I could do that, at the time. I haven’t slept much at all since then, you know that? I’ve felt terrible. Absolutely terrible.”
Quinn himself felt boxed in. He liked having options. He liked having different ways to get out of any problem he was in. In this situation, though, he didn’t have any options.
And he couldn’t remember what possessed him to draw him and Vale kissing.
“I’m not playing mind games. I just wanted to be friends.” He was telling the truth, and Quetzalcoatl knew. He felt his god darken in anger in the back of his mind, but at least he seemed to think he could take care of himself for once.
“And…the hat that you destroyed was my father’s. I haven’t seen him since I was really little, and it was the only thing I have left of him. That, combined with seeing you in front of my house, freaked me out.” He blinked, and then looked suspiciously at the other godling.
“Why were you at my house, anyway?”
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2009 1:21 pm
He stared critically at the other boy.
Quinn seemed sincere enough. Honest and heartfelt.
But Tezcatlipoca needn't say anything - Valeriu didn't believe it. Couldn't afford to believe it. Other things still didn't add up, too many coincidences that didn't quite fit in with Quinn's explanation. It may all be a lie, or maybe half and half, but at this point it didn't really matter. The distrust was clear on his face.
However, whether Quinn was lying about his motives or not, he did recognize some truth: the beanie. That was something that was obviously important to the other godling. And Valeriu may have been trying to kill him, but he would never target things like that to hurt another.
"I am sorry," he apologized slowly, unused to the words on his tongue. "For your hat. I did not mean to hit ee't."
No, Valeriu had meant to hit Quinn. Fatally. Still did - that hadn't changed.
Still, debating semantics in his own mind was a pretty useless endeavor.
"I v'asn't at your house." He shrugged at that, a ripple of movement that belied his tense stance. "I v'as on my v'ay to get some chores done."
Chores that didn't involve seeing you again, he nearly added. Chores that didn't involve killing you. Or kiss-
Nevermind.
"I v'ould not ever hurt somebody that did not need to be hurt." The distaste was plain in his tone. "Like your mother. She ee's not a Player, and not ee'nvolved."
He didn't enjoy being accused of heartless cruelty. Even if he did intend to kill Quinn, he would never go after people close to the boy. The thought of somebody doing the same to him sent a spike of terror and fury rushing down his spine.
"I shall make this clear: I do not believe you. I still ee'ntend to kill you. That ee's my place ee'n this game. V'e," he frowned, something inside him hurting a bit too much at what he said next, "v'ere not and are not meant to be friends, v'hether v'hat you say may be lies or truth."
And that was all there was to it. Whether he believed Quinn or not, whether Quinn was even telling the truth or not - they could never be anything more than enemies. Because of their gods, because of the path he had chosen, because of what they were. It didn't matter if there had been something undeniably fulfilling and right being friends with him. It didn't matter if life had suddenly clicked into place.
It didn't matter if, chosen by the gods or not, they had been made to complement one another. For the briefest of seconds, he felt a pang of regret that was not entirely his own, and wondered at that.
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2009 8:32 pm
Suddenly, it came back to him in a quick rush, and he had to resist the urge to smack himself in the forehead. “That’s why I drew it. Duh,” he looked up at the picture on the wall, and walked over to it, crossing his arms. He took a deep breath, and then looked at Vale. “The picture I drew. The one you scrubbed off. The one over by the construction site,” he paused, and couldn’t meet Vale’s eyes. He stared at the ground. “I was angry. I was scared. I didn’t mean- I don’t want- This is what I would have rather drawn. This is what I would have rather happened.” He ran his fingers along his throat, and then looked down at the bandages covering the large scratches.
“I know the beanie wasn’t your fault. And who knows, maybe it’s just my father giving me a second chance. If you had hit me and not it…I might have been the one torn to shreds.” Quinn rocked back and forth on his heels for a second, and felt something jab at him from his pocket. Reaching into it, he remembered putting the buttons from his beanie in there, after it shredded. He had left them unfastened, and the needle of one had poked through the pocket. He looked at them. A heart, and a star. He put the heart back in his pocket.
That’s probably a good choice. He doesn’t seem like a pink heart kind of person.
Quinn was alarmed for a second.
How did you know what I was-
It’s what I would have done. It’s alright, Quinn. I understand. But I warn you, it won’t change anything.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t try.
With renewed resolve, he took a step towards Vale, slowly so the boy would know he wasn’t making an attack. He raised his hand up with deliberate slowness and lightly took the boy’s ripped up shirt in one hand, pushing the needle through with the other, then back, and then hooking it on. He smiled weakly.
He hoped he wasn’t making the wrong choice—he doubted Vale would destroy it, though. Throw it away, maybe. But not destroy it. He hoped his father didn’t think he was stupid for doing this.
“Yah. The star suits you better than the pink heart would.”
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2009 9:25 pm
Unwittingly, he glanced at the picture on the wall, unable to take the sense of discomfort for more than a few moments before being forced to look away, shifting his stance and trying not to let the embarrassment show.
If Quinn really was telling the truth, that meant that he wanted to, to do that with him. With Valeriu, who had never thought about that in relation to himself. It was a strange sort of knowledge that left his heart racing for no reason and kept him in a state of bewilderment.
It was the same knowledge that made him want to run far, far away in the first place.
When Quinn stepped forward, the wary godling almost took a matching step back; but he held his ground, watching in suspicious confusion as Quinn came close enough to touch. He nearly held his breath, waiting to see if an attack would come, another low-handed trick.
His breath left him instead upon receiving yet another gift from the boy, eyebrows drawing down thoughtfully at the pin attached to his ruined shirt.
"I think so too," he agreed lowly, eyes running back up to Quinn.
It didn't change anything, his expression clearly said. They were still enemies. He'd known this from the beginning. He was a killer, and whatever Quinn was, be it liar or saint...
It just wasn't meant to be this time around. Friends were not an option for him.
And he may have still been so very angry - indeed, that tattoo wasn't going to go away - and he may not be able to believe what the other teen said.
But, before he really had to kill Quinn, be it the next time they met or by his god's orders, he could indulge in one last burst of impulsiveness, one last selfish act on his part.
It was rough, and awkward, and he still couldn't figure out how to do it right, but there was something both perfect and discomfiting about how his hands snaked out to grab the other boy by the shoulders and jerk him into the tightly held hug. He may have been bloody, and burned, and damn if adding more pressure to his wounds didn't hurt more, but it was worth it for the few moments it lasted, despite the instinctual urge to recoil from the danger close at hand.
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Posted: Wed Mar 04, 2009 11:59 am
Quinn's eyes widened as the other boy pulled him into a hug, but then he smiled a bit and wrapped his arms around Valeriu. He realized conciously that this may be the las time he got to hug the godling.
And he's just getting good at it!
He hoped it wasn't, but he wouldn't pretend that wasn't a possibility. He pulled away from Vale after a moment, and put on a nervous grin. "Don't lose it, okay?" He began packing all of his scattered spray paint bottles into his messenger bag, tossing it back over his shoulder. He looked back up at the picture he had drawn, and sighed. Maybe next time.
You should probably get some new pants. Or at least wash those-- you're all covered in blood.
Quinn nodded. He looked into Vale's eyes for a moment, and opened his mouth like he was going to say something. He shook his head, closed it again, and frowned. Then he opened it again.
"If you show Mitchy the button, he'll give you free ice cream, like he does with me. He'll recognize it, I bet. And he'll recognize you. In case you ever get hungry for ice cream." He sighed.
"And if you ever need someone to talk to, and aren't feeling particularly murderous, you know where I live, now."
He raised his hand up in a wave, then turned and strolled off, as if nothing had happened.
Several people gave him wierd looks for his bloody pants, though.
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Posted: Wed Mar 04, 2009 4:01 pm
Watching Quinn walk away, Valeriu had to tamp down the urge to run after him and say something. To pretend that they weren't on opposite sides, that there was no godly war. That he was a normal kid again that could be a normal friend, where half of him didn't constantly contemplate killing others because of the things his god had done to him.
Regretting your choice?
No, he replied decisively, gently brushing a thumb over the star pin and turning away. And I never v'ill. You know that.
It didn't mean he couldn't miss what he'd never have.
For now, he still had chores to do. Had to get back home, get changed, and treat the burns and wounds he'd received.
It felt like a new sense of calm had stolen over him. He was still confused, still angry, but gifted with a new purpose.
Their paths were destined to cross, he knew that now. They were always going to be at odds.
And sooner or later, Valeriu would be the one to kill him. Quinn's life was his to take. No one else could steal that from him.
It was the least that Fortune could grant him.
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