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 Posted: Fri Aug 06, 2010 3:26 pm
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Posted: Wed Aug 11, 2010 7:43 pm
 Tinkering: Lennox likes to work with his hands making small accessories. In his younger years he often made jewelry by twisting metal wires together, using beads of different materials, and hobby paint. It is unclear if he would have excelled at this hobby due to his internment into the Asylum. He currently lacks the small tools he would need to resume this hobby and must make do with what poor materials he can scavenge to work with. Lennox's fairy species can be partly put to blame for the growing desire to work with his hands. Collecting: Lennox is compelled to collect small objects of perceived beauty. In short, he likes things that shine, glow, or have decoration value. It is a hard thing for him to resist stealing jewelry, unless it is a piece that he has personally gifted. Cooking: A more recent interest. Lennox has developed a interest in cooking food, primarily to obtain approval from his room mate. In a place like Asylum, Lennox also feels more comfortable eating food he has personally prepared. This is due in part to his distrust of the Asylum kitchen staff, but also has roots in his fairy species. Loyal: Lennox has a strong sense of loyalty. He draws strength from his confidence in his own ability to be a good friend. He recognizes the importance of Loyalty in a place like Asylum and it has a place of great importance to him. Content: Despite all that has happened, Lennox possesses a inner strength that allows him to be content with what he has. To let go of what he has not. As well as accept what can or can not be in his life. Because of this Lennox has not fallen into a state of misery and depression. While some may view him in a perilous state of denial, Lennox has merely come to realize that he is in a place of enough misery, he does not need to create more for himself. Fairy Blood: When Lennox was a child, it was assumed that he merely had some very strange allergies. As the spell that was placed upon him to make him seem human has been broken, these allergies have become far more pronounced. They are as follows :~Iron: This is the most severe of Lennox's weakness. The touch of iron inflicts a cold pain that rapidly numbs his limbs. It's mere presence drains Lennox of his physical strength. Should he be cut or wounded in some way by iron, the wound is very slow to close and mend. Ingestion of iron can lead to a series of serious complications that could include internal bleeding, vomiting, blindness, seizures, coma, and death. Iron can be used to negate Lennox's ability to shape-shift. ~Bells: The sound of a bell or wind-chime is not so much a deadly sound as it is annoying. Imagine the grating sound of metal in a grinder, or the squeal of nails on a chalkboard. As a dog whistle can drive a hound to ground whimpering, so too can the sound of a bell drive Lennox. The louder and more vibrating the sound, the worse it's effect on Lennox. ~Salt: The properties of salt have a clear effect on Lennox. While he can eat it with no problems, when used in specific ways, it has a very powerful effect. A circle of salt forms a invisible barrier in which Lennox can not pass over or through. The same can be side of drawing a line of salt across a doorway, window, or opening. If mixed with ash of broom the powder has a painful burning effect on his skin. If inhaled Lennox will begin to cough and choke. ~Dill: The scent of this particular plant is unsettling to Lennox. While it does him no harm, it does make him feel a bit sick to his stomach. ~Gorse: The presence of this yellow flowering plant makes Lennox uneasy. It is more then just the scent of the plant. He feels a unexplained urge to keep his distance from it. The plant does not inflict a sense of pain or sickness on him. ~Broom: This particular plant is harmful to Lennox. It's touch creates a sense of pain that lingers after it has been taken away. Cuts by broom wood burn and leave welts. Ingestion of broom leaves Lennox feeling sick to his stomach and can lead to mild fevers and hallucinations. **** Daniel and Lennox **** Daniel and Lennox **** Daniel and Lennox **** Daniel and Lennox **** Daniel and Lennox **** Daniel and Lennox **** Daniel and Lennox **** Daniel and Lennox **** Daniel and Lennox **** Daniel, Edith, and Lennox **** Daniel and Lennox **** Daniel and Lennox **** Daniel and Lennox **** Daniel and Lennox **** Daniel and Lennox ----- Reverie and Lennox ----- Tonny and Lennox ----- Mills and Lennox
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Posted: Wed Aug 11, 2010 7:48 pm
(~In Progress~)  The Rhemorahz fairy species is one of the more unpleasant fairy species. A primarily nocturnal fairy, Rhemorahz are known for being thieves and somewhat cruel in nature. They are suspicious and untrusting of others. In order to properly understand the species, one must imagine a pair of tom cats tossed into a room for the first time together. They are aggressive and often violent when dealing with strangers and their own kind alike. Rhemorahz fey are so aggressive that it is rare for a pair to become friends or companions. Though when that extremely rare bond is formed, the Rhemorahz become mates for life. This mate becomes the sole individual that the other feels a lack of aggression towards, though the cruelty they share is often compounded and enjoyed in joint efforts. When one of these mates perish there is a noticeable change int he survivors nature and demeanor. The aggression and cruelty levels drop dramatically, as well the survivor often distances itself from the rest of it's kind to live in a seemingly un-natural peace. Physically the Rhemorahz males and females are similar. The species is known for having dark gray to coal black skin. Their hair and wings are typically multicolored, with a minimum of three to four colors. It is exceptionally rare to have a Rhemorahz has more then four colors in their hair, though it is no real genetic marker of anything out of the ordinary or special. The Species is noted for having small sharp pointed teeth. These teeth play a part in the aggression of the species, as nips and bites are almost a casual form of interaction. The Rhemoraz male and female always have long feline like tails. These tails aid in keeping balance in flight for the fey and can be shaped like a lion, panther, or even a long hair domestic cats. The Rhemorahz are omnivores with a preference for raw meats and vegetables. Cooking ones food is mostly a novelty for the species, though it's not unheard of to find mated pairs who indulge in cooking meals for the other. It is often seen as a courtship to take the time preparing food to be consumed by another. Trinkets, such as jewelry, small figurines, and pretty or shining objects are of great value to the Rhemorahz. They collect these objects and hide them. For a Rhemorahz fey to pass on one of these objects in the form of a gift is often viewed as a bid for peace or alliance. If the fey accepts this gift, it means that a period of tolerance is accepted for the others presence. A refusal of the gift could mean that the other is offended by it's lack of appeal, or that the other is merely seen too much as a threat. Of the abilities the Rhemorahz possess, they are most well known for their ability to mimic the forms of other creatures. The older a Rhemorahz becomes, the more complete the transformation becomes. Young fey can only mimic a creatures shape. The elders who learn to master their ability can obtain the natural abilities of the creatures they have taken the form of the most. It requires extensive practice and years of committed shifting to obtain the abilities of another creature. In order to transform into another creature, the fey must have touched the flesh of the creature desired while in their natural form, or eaten the blood, bone, and flesh of the creature they wish to gain the form of. The actual transformation itself is without question painful. The greater the difference between the form of the alternate shape and the fey's original, the greater the pain and agony. Young fey only obtain a handful of alternate shapes. Though as they grow older and more skilled they may gradually obtain other shapes through dedicated practice. The types of forms that a fey may obtain is limited purely to mammals. As is true with many fairy species, there are specific plants that draw the Rhemorahz fey. The strength of the drawing varies from fey to fey. Most are merely pleasant scents that draw the fey near. Some are downright irresistible. The following plants are the sorts that attract Rhemorahz: Lavender, Rosemary, Clover, Daisy, Mistletoe, Lilac. In addition to these plants, the Rhemorahz have a deep fondness for milk and honey. The mixture of the two has a effect much like alcohol upon a human. Shape Shifting: Lennox can assume the following forms. A Black cat with rainbow eyes. A black gerbil with rainbow eyes and tail tuft. A female version of himself. Green magic: Lennox species possess the ability to draw out the innate powers of plants. By growing and processing (Picking, drying, and otherwise preserving) the plants they can awaken the magic in each plant species. After which, with the proper knowledge and skill, potions and minor magical effects can be created using these specially prepared plants. Example: Agrimony; A plant with magical properties for sleeping and healing. Lennox could use this particular plant to create a sleeping tea that promotes a healing slumber at a low level (What he is now) But later on (Once he reaches final stage) he could create a potion that would aid in healing wounds when imbibed or applied directly to wounds. Like applying a super effective peroxide to a wound to keep it from getting infected as well as causing it to heal up more quickly. Plants that Lennox grows and processes himself are far more potent then plants that have been prepared by someone else. So, a bay leave he picks himself and dries himself will be more potent then a bay leave he picks out of the kitchen spice rack. Lennox's Current
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Posted: Fri Aug 13, 2010 9:41 pm
 History
David and Allison never knew when the switch happened. It could have occurred any day from the time the boy was brought him. A simple pair of open iron scissors left near the crib, or a coat turned inside out hung in the room would have warded off the thief. But again, this was a modern age with modern views. One night, Jeremy was gone, and in his place another was left. Thus was the way of changeling.
For all his early life, Lennox was known as Jeremy. It was true that at times he seemed more cranky when his mother tried to feed him. He did not wish to drink her milk, or eat the mushed up foods that were offered to him. As he grew older, there were periods when Jeremy seemed to grow very ill and weak for seemingly no reason. His strange allergy to iron made his parents curious, but raised no eyebrows. At least, no eyebrows raised except for Grandmothers.
Almost immediately upon laying eyes upon him, Grandmother wanted nothing to do with him. Jeremy tried to be polite. He tried to be helpful and kind. No matter what he did, from setting the table to bringing his old grandmother a blanket...she looked at him with those beady suspicious eyes. David and Allison explained to Jeremy that Grandmother was just very old and unhappy because she disliked the 'big city'. She was used to living out in the country in a small stone hut. Moving to the modern city with it's wood and plastic buildings, large paved streets, and heavy bustle of people coming and going at all hours was hard for the old woman to adjust to, even for a little while.
Jeremy thought he understood Grandmother. Sometimes he found himself unhappy with the city himself. So he tried to be as good as possible, just to try and make her more comfortable in their modern home. Still, she said nothing to him. She wouldn't even acknowledge him! When Jeremy was little, he was too young to recall the fights his parents had with Grandmother. Though as he grew older, he could remember the fights. Every visit started with a small verbal altercation. By the time came for Grandmother to go home, there had been at least two loud fights. Jeremy recalled the words devil, and evil, and other things that he was not too sure about. It was very hurtful to have someone in your family hate you when you could not ever imagine having done anything wrong towards them.
It was Grandmother who had discovered his allergy to iron in the first place. It seemed like a hurtful and spiteful thing she had done. Jeremy had been sitting in the backyard in the flower garden. It was one of the few places he felt entirely happy in. He recalled he had been playing with some acorns when a shadow fell across him. He looked up to see those suspicious black eyes narrowed at him. Jeremy remembered being frozen with fear from the look from those eyes. Quick, like a ravens beak, her hands reached out and grabbed his arm. Jeremy had felt a small p***k, quite like a bee's sting. Then a horrible burning sensation followed. Grandmother looked so vindicated! She dragged him into the house, howling for her son to come and see. To come and see the proof! Jeremy's arm burned and bled from that tiny p***k, and Jeremy howled like the child he was in pain, bringing his parents running.
His mother tore him away from Grandmother, and father launched into the most angry worded yelling that Jeremy had ever heard. His mother took him to the hospital, where the nice nurses and doctors gave him something sweet to suck on while they tested him. After they assured his mother he merely had a sever allergy, and to be certain he was not scratched by anything made of iron, he was taken home. Grandmother was not there when he came back...and for many years after that she did not return to visit. Jeremy felt bad about being happy for this. He was tired of Grandmother scaring him by drawing salt lines across the doorway of her room. Or being made sick by the scent of certain strange flowers or plants she tried to fill the house with. Or feeling very uncomfortable when she made certain motions and signs with her fingers. He was happy to have his family life peaceful and calm for once.
Regardless of his problems with Grandmother, school was only a little less unpleasant for Jeremy. When he tried to read, the words seemed hard for him to make sense of. Studying did little in way of helping him. His teachers believed he had a wide range of mental disabilities.From Dyslexia to ADD. The only thing he was never accused of was having Hyperactivity, and that was due primarily to his ability to sit still for hours on end.
It was no surprise to his family that as Jeremy grew older, he found himself with no real friends. The other children did not want to play with him, but he was not teased or made fun of. That was one good thing he supposed about his childhood. He only seemed to have one enemy, and that person was his grandmother.
Jeremy grew older, as was the way of children. He grew taller. He grew more handsome. He gained the attention of the girls who at one point and time did not seem to even notice him. Jeremy found the attention a little insulting to be truthful. These silly headed giggly things who had ignored him for so many years seemed interested now in finding out all sorts of weird things about him. What did he like to eat? Did he sit next to anyone on the bus? Who did he talk to? Did he like sports or music? It all seemed a lot of effort for someone to learn all these things. Mostly though, it rubbed Jeremy the wrong way when he thought about these girls gossiping and whispering his secrets. Judging him based on such simple things as his favorite color or how he wore his hair.
Besides. They weren't really all that attractive to start with. None of the females had a sense about them that even made him want to bother learning their names. They were all too young. Flat chested and immature. Not a single one of them had any interesting traits about them! Not that Jeremy was looking at this age. No...no his interest was drawn more towards plants and crafts. He did not want to waste time on dating uninteresting girls. He wanted to plant curious plants and make jewelry using beads and semi-precious stones. His parents thought he was just shy. It was more then that though. Girls wanted to do things like hold hands and kiss and..well.. other things. But there was just this sense of worthlessness to their attention! Jeremy did not understand what it was that made him dissatisfied.
Though this was just one more strange thing about Jeremy, his parents did not worry about him. He was just slow to mature in that way. Or maybe he had matured too quickly in a different way? His parents did not worry about needing to give Jeremy 'The Talk' since he showed not interest in girls. In fact, if his parents were to give a moment of thought to it, they never really had to 'Talk' to Jeremy since he was a baby.
He did not watch television much. Nothing beyond a random nature show here and there that his parents were already watching. There was no computer in their house, and he never really made use of the school access. The only thing Jeremy attempted to do was read in his spare time. Despite his struggle comprehending the words on the pages, he would spend hours on just a single chapter. He had never disobeyed his parents. Never thrown a tantrum... for all sakes and purposes, Jeremy was a perfect son. So...when David and Allison announced a few months after his sixteenth birthday that he would soon be a older brother, it perplexed them and Jeremy alike when he shied away from his mother.
Jeremy could not quiet explain it, but his mother carrying another child made him uneasy. He began to sleep poorly, troubled by dreams of dark figures sneaking into his room. A sense of abandonment overwhelmed Jeremy that he could not understand. When his mother began to grow larger in the belly, he would not look at her. He would not touch her. It was hard even to speak to her. Where was this feeling coming from? It frustrated him, and that in turn made him angry. What was worse were the changes going on in him.
He was seventeen by this point, and his voice had deepened some. Though he had not been plagued with the typical pimples and ruddy complexions of most teens his age, Jeremy began to feel unhappy with his looks. He spent hours in front of a mirror inspecting himself and brushing back his hair. He had allowed it to grow, mostly because it just felt better down around his ears. His mother fussed that it did not look proper, but his father convinced her that it was just a phase.
Just a phase. Was it just a phase that his eyes played tricks on him sometimes? Was it a phase that made that strange dark circle in the corner of the yard look like there was some shimmering of light inside of it? Was it a phase that sometimes, when he looked into that mirror, he thought for the briefest of moments that there was a reflection of something under the pale pink skin looking at him? It was frightening, and Jeremy could only attribute it to stress over his sibling's pending arrival.
Of course, there was more then the little one on the way, and for the first time since he could ever recall, Jeremy grew angry at his parents. It was bad enough that the babies things were being kept in his room. A prelude to when a crib would eventually be placed within there too. But to come home from school and unexpectedly walk into that...that trap!
The scent of dill was strong in the house. The moment he opened the door his stomach turned and he nearly dropped to his knees. Jeremy forced himself to stay on his feet, and he staggered into the living room. Carpet bags were piled on the couch. And a hateful glare met him around the corner. Jeremy's stomach dropped to his feet as Grandmother stood barring his way further into the house. He took a step back from her, and she took one forwards. In one of her hands she brandished what looked like a strange old fashioned broom of yellow twigs. The sight of it made his spine tingle in a unpleasant manner.
His parents appeared then, and whatever it was Grandmother had been intending had been thankfully put to a halt. It was then that the horrible news was shared. Upon hearing that Allison was pregnant with another child, Grandmother had insisted that she come for the birth. Worse yet... she had sold her old stone house... she was not going away. She was staying. She was going to live there. She said it was to help his mother with the baby. Jeremy could not help but feel there was something more behind it. That unexplained hatred of her's for example. What was worse, was that his parents had known about this. They had helped her sell the house. They had helped her move in silently and sneakily! They had not even warned him!!
He was so hurt! So upset! Jeremy refused to share meals with his parents for the next two days. Not that he wanted to eat anyways. Grandmother filled the house with those foul smelling plants, and she seasoned all the food she cooked with things that just made him want to vomit. Jeremy ended up eating sparsely for that last month of his mothers pregnancy. He was hungry all the time, and worse yet, his nightmares were far more violent and vivid. He saw himself beaten and whipped. Crying and miserable as cruel looking creatures made demands of him. There were times when Jeremy awoke in frustrated tears.
Sense was made... all in one nights time. His mother went into labor late at night. Jeremy awoke from his nightmare to see his father rushing her waddling form out the door. It was late...school was tomorrow... so Jeremy was left with Grandmother as his mother was taken to the emergency room for delivery. Jeremy was torn. As uncomfortable as he felt around his mother, he felt even more fear at being left with Grandmother.
And oh...oh for such a good reason.
After his parents left the apartment, Grandmother went back to her room. She seemed like she couldn't hurry away quickly enough, and Jeremy was relieved that she did not hover around him. Had he known what the old woman was hurrying off for, he would have left the house with much haste. Instead Jeremy returned to his bedroom, restless and anxious for the nights disturbing events.
The smell hit him like a physical punch.
Jeremy's head swam and he felt himself fall off his own bed. Grandmother had opened the door to his room, holding what looked like a large shell in one hand. Something within was smoking. Billowing gray plumes filled his room, and it was this some that was having it's awful effect. Jeremy couldn't focus his thoughts, his sight blurred and at times went dark. He remembered trying to get up, but the smoke made it hard for him to determine which was was even up. Jeremy stumbled and lurched in his efforts to escape the smoke. He knocked over something, he knew this because he heard the sound of the object cluttering to the floor. Blindly he sought out the window...but something just...he did not know. He could not see!
As Jeremy was rendered confused and vulnerable by the smoke, Grandmother used a large canister of salt to ring around the boy. By doing so, she trapped him within. Jeremy felt the sense of a invisible wall surrounding him. Whenever he attempted to press against it, he found himself touching what he would have sworn was glass. He was trapped...trapped and dazed... and Grandmother was only getting started.
When the smoke burned out a hour later, Jeremy was unable to recall exactly what the events of that hour were. He remembered only that he felt sick. It was like a violent sickness without any sort of vomiting. Pain laced through his head from the lingering smoke. His skin hurt where it was exposed from his T-shirt and shorts. Red welts laced over him, and Grandmother waved her broom of yellow twigs. From time to time she struck out at him, and where the twigs touched, more welts rose. What hurt even more were the small iron nails Grandmother hurled at him. Just being struck by them left small bruises. Where they cut, he felt blood trickling from wounds that were not scabbing over properly. Worse yet. Some of them fell within the salt circle and he was unable to pick them up to even toss them out. Grandmother spoke strange words as she threw a mixture of ash and salt over him. The cloud burned painfully when he inhaled it, and Jeremy had a violent fit of coughing that left his black hands flecked with blood.
It was when he was looking at his hands after coughing, the dim light of sunrise filtering his bedroom with a eerie blue light, that he found himself staring at the color of his palms. Grandmother placed large clumps of some herb around him, and then took a jar filled with broken mirror shards. She shook it twice, then set it down between himself and the door. When he attempted to look towards her and the door, his perception of the world seemed like it was being reflected to infinity. Sort of like a kaleidoscope, only a thousand times worse.
He laid upon the floor of his bedroom, feeling periods of extreme heat and cold. His head and chest hurt. He wanted to crawl away somewhere and hide but could not push past the line of sale. That...that silly stupid white circle. He tried blowing on it, but his breath seemed to have no effect on it, and the effort of blowing after inhaling the ash left his chest burning more painfully.
Hour's later he heard a door open and close. Heavy steps announced the presence of his father. Jeremy lifted his head as he heard voices outside his door. At first his fathers voice sounded furious. He heard a complaint about some horseshoe , then his grandmothers harsh voice spoke up. Trilling it almost seemed. She declared she'd done it. She'd broken the fairy spell, and now..now...
The door was thrown open, and his father stood outside the door frame. Jeremy looked at his father desperately and he croaked a small plea to him.
David stood motionless and mute.
Jeremy waited expectantly for his father to do something. Anything. He waited for him to push through into the room to open a window and air the room out of the smells. He could not focus well on his father due to the jar, but he knew he was there. Knew he could see him.
Please. He begged with a small tremble to his voice. He hurt. He was scared. He begged his father to help him.
Grandmother told his father to ignore his lies.
What lies!? Jeremy clawed at his head as he shook violently within the circle. What lies!? What lies!? He wasn't lieing! He cried...oh...how he cried. Particularly when his father began to...yell.
He demanded to know where his son was. What had he done with his child? Where was his boy?
What was he talking about!? Jeremy told him he was there. HE was his son! He had not done anything to deserve this! He'd been a good son hadn't he!? He'd been a good boy! Jeremy began to plead with his father. He spoke of past holidays. Past events. Moments shared in time. His father...he turned away. Denounced him as his son. He waked past the jar and Jeremy lost his focus on him. Once more the door closed and Jeremy was left in his room alone.
It was not dark yet when two strangers next opened the door of his room. Jeremy was so weak at this point he couldn't even protest as they picked him up. They started to carry him from the room, but Grandmother made them halt for a moment. Much to his shame, the old spinster pinched and pulled his clothing from him. Once he had been completely stripped, she waved him off. Jeremy was so relieved to be out of that room...he felt immensely better once they stepped out the door of the house and he was able to inhale the cleaner air. Though as his mind cleared, what it focused on left him longing for the confusion of before.
Jeremy found himself placed in a cramped cold van. Through a small window, he was able to peer out, and he saw his father standing beside Grandmother. They were speaking to a large man wearing a strange uniform. From where he was kneeling, he could see she was speaking rapidly. Her hands gesturing like two wild birds on strings as the stranger jotted things down.
What were they doing? Why was he in the van? Why was he naked? He called out, his voice cracking as he tried to reach his fathers ears. He saw him give a start at the sound of his voice, and for a moment his fathers eyes turned towards the van. He looked like....like...someone had died. He called...and called...and continued to call even as the van drove away.
Thus...Jeremy entered Asylum. When he looked upon the place he felt as if something in his very soul just curled up to die right then. He'd never heard of the place before, but he imagined it as a strange sort of oubliette. It certainly had the feel of it. As he was pushed and pulled along. His shame only growing as more people saw him in his naked state. When one of his escorts was asked what he was, the answer given was Perizada. The word sounded..strange, but incredibly familiar. The moment passed though, and Jeremy felt ill as he realized, as he was described to another...they did not call him by any name. Just...Perizada.
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Posted: Fri Aug 13, 2010 9:51 pm
I only today found this notepad and pen. So I will try to record the things I have seen, thought, and done since my arrival here.
I have only been here a week. It probably seems to many people that a week here is like a month. I would have to disagree.
It is more like a year. I feel as if the weight of an entier year has been lived already. Most of my expereinces here have been terrible. Not in a personal or physical sense, but in other ways.
When I first arrived, I came with nothing. Not even cloths. I do not understand why my family has abandoned me like this. Despite all that has been said and done. These past seventeen years of my life I have lived and loved as their son. It seems as if in the events of a single night, everything has been erased. How easy was it for them to forget me? I don't even know what my brothers name is. I never had a chance to ask my father.
Does my mother miss me? Even though I had been uncomfortable around her these last nine months, I never stopped loving her. Or wanting her love for that matter.
I think I'm still in a state of shock to tell the truth. My life has been turned upside down and inside out. Everything that seemed off or wrong now feels like it's had sense made of it. At the same time, everything that was right and good in my life has turned wrong and dark. When I was younger I used to get headaches trying to read all those old world folktales. I found them very interesting, and despite the troubles I had with the words I struggled with determination to make sense of them. Now, all those tales have come back to me.
I sort of wonder why I didn't even pick up on the signs. Maybe it was the magic? I will say this, since he magic was broken, I've had very little trouble reading. It's clear to me now even as I write this. My spelling used to be so bad. I would use the wrong words in sentences. Sometimes I would even end up writing things backwards. I don't do that anymore and I'm very certain it was the magic. It was believed that when a fairy changed, there was always something off about them. Something that made them clearly not right or whole. Sometimes it was a eye or hair color that was not the right shade. Or missing a ear, or a forked tongue. Just..something. Whoever wove the spell that I lived in for the past seventeen years had been very good with the physical. The magic just..messed up in another way.
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Posted: Sun Aug 15, 2010 3:25 pm
When I last wrote, I had mentioned I had been here a week and arrived naked. I sort of drifted off onto a tangent. I think my mind is just working through all these changes, and writing it out is helping.
So, when I arrived, I wasn't allowed to bring anything with me. I would have liked to have brought some sort of cloths with me. Perhaps some of my crafting tools. My hands feel restless without my pliars and wirer cutters. I used to make nifty little necklaces and bracelets useing wire and beads. I had thought for a while to maybe start selling things to the local botiques or to go to a craft fair. I guess that is never going to happen now.
The first day I was here. I spent it curled up in a room with no window or door. I didn't have the heart to try and find myself any cloths, much less move. I was hoping desperatly my father would change his mind and call the Asylum to bring me back. If that happened I wanted to be right where I had been left. For the first few hours I had myself convinced that he would walk into my room and just...remember all of our years together. He'd remember he was my father and I am his son.
When no salvation came within the first day, I switched my hope to my mother. When she came home with the baby, I was certain she'd demand I be brought home. She was the one who rocked me to sleep and changed my diapers. She was the one who read me stories and made me soup when I became mysteriously sick. I was so certain she would not care what I looked like now, she would look at our family picture together and drive over here to save me herself. Even if she had only just given birth a day ago.
When the second day passed, and I had not moved much from where I laid. It became obvious to me that there was no one coming for me. Something had been broken and I did not know if it could ever be fixed. At least not with me here. So...after two days of not eating, and laying naked. I finally roused myself to move. I stumbled from the room and attempted to find a place where I could eat.
As I stumbled about aimlessly, I guess I made a poor choice somewhere. I can't say I took a wrong turn, since I knew nothing of the lay out here. Honestly though, it seems like all the turns here are wrong at times. As it was, I stumbled upon what..well... it was blood. Plain and simple. Someone was dead, it was fresh, and the one who was responsible was still present. They were in a room just a little ahead of me, and I guess I made a frightened sound.I mean...
It was blood. It was frightening. The person..thing..whatever it was came to the door and I took off running. I think this was my first lesson of Asylum. Besides the one that it seemed no one cared about the people trapped in here. The rule was...if you paniced and showed fear, it only got worse. The creature chased me down the hall. I stumbled into a room and tried to get the door closed, but this one chaseing me slammed it open before I had a chance. All I remember is that I was terrified. I wanted to run away. To get away and escape before I ended up dead.
I remember feeling pain. I thought the one who I was struggling with was hurting me, and I yowled. The sound should have made me pause, though I am glad it did not. I may not have gotten away if I had. Somehow I wriggled free and moved with more speed and agility then I had done before. When I finally stopped running, I flopped on the floor and panted. As I calmed down, I finally realized something was very very different. I had been running on four legs rather then two. I noticed too that the hallway seemed much larger then it should have been.
I had changed. Shape shifted is the word. I'm still really confused over how I could do it. I had become a cat in my frantic need to escape. Since that time I have only managed to take on the form of two other things. A gerbil and..uhm... a girl. Mind you, becoming a girl is a lot less painful then the other two. I think the amount of pain I am in during my change is impacted by exactly how much of a difference there is between my real form and the one I am assumeing.
As a cat, I was able to sneak more easily through the halls. I am extremely ashamed to admit it, but I caught and ate a mouse too. I was so so hungry. I really needed food! I found a room where someone was sleeping, and in a corner is where I found the vest, pants, and belt I now wear. I suppose I could have gotten better cloths. A actual shirt, and socks and shoes...but since my real means of defense seems to be my ability to change forms, I need to wear as little as possible. My clothing do not change when I do. Meaning they could possibly bind me up or trap me when I need to make a quick escape. I don't even bother with undergarments! God...mom would be so upset at me. Wandering around with no undies or shoes. She'd scold me for sure if she could see....
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Posted: Sun Aug 15, 2010 3:29 pm
I have gradually been writing about my unsteady start here in Asylum. I know I hinted at my past with my first tangent. I am not certain I can write about that yet. There is still too much pain associated to the thoughts of my family. In a place like this I can't risk having some sort of break down as I did when I first arrived.
Gods. I was so lucky. There are some good things to be grateful for here. One just needs to look for them.
Like Daniel. When we first met, I was so angry inside still. And scared. Daniel looks fierce. He looks like someone that no one would ever stand up to or mess with. He terrified me. After my first fearful encounter I had already learned that showing fear only drew aggressive attention. So I tried to stand strong and unafraid.
I think on some level that Daniel went easy on me. In fact I am pretty positive. I wonder if he knew how I was feeling? I do think he let me win that fight. He could have hurt me so badly, but he did not. He mocked me, still does in fact. He calls me gay or fruit tart. At first it made me embarrassed. You know I was never teased before? My parents never did, even in play. I had no friends, the children at school never seemed to even see me. Daniel is the first person to poke at me.
I'm still not sure how we ended up where we are now. I know that, on my part, I was desperate not to continue wandering alone. Even though Daniel and I had not had a good start, I felt compelled to follow him. I felt much safer when he was present. No matter how fear inspiring the other patients here may be, I do not think any of them are as strong as Daniel. Being around him, I have learned a thousand times more about socializing then I have in all my years outside of Asylum. I still have a few odd moments when I misinterpret what is being said to me. Daniel say's I take things too literal. I wonder, do you think that is a trait of my species or just because of my upbringing?
Regardless of my concerns, I think Daniel will let me stay with him. He seems fond of the food I have made him lately. Being part shark I guess it makes sense that food would be a great motivator for him. He jested that should I try to leave he would drag me back just to cook for him. He has such a sense of humor, and I believe I am really getting to understand it more. I think I'll write about him more later. It is getting late now and I do not want him to catch me writing in a journal. I'd be worried he may try to read it and I would be incredibly ashamed for him to see what I have written.
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Posted: Mon Aug 16, 2010 1:58 pm
I have a moment to myself now, so I will write about Tonny.
She is a pretty girl with red hair, and seems incredibly nice. She doesn't seem like she was put here by anyone, but rather trapped. I am not quiet sure about her motives though. She say's she wants to help us escape. It is nice of her. I do not have the heart to tell her that I have no reason to escape.
At first my thoughts were on that very thing. I wanted to be free of this place. When Daniel took me to the courtyard though, I realized that there was no purpose in it. The courtyard offers a illusion of freedom in this horrible place. Were I to step outside of the Asylum, I had this weird realization that the illusion would be the same. I can't go home. I am not wanted there. I know nothing of my species. I don't have a clue where I would go or even how I would fit in anymore.
So... I have no heart to tell her how I feel. Instead I have the slight hope that perhaps she can help Daniel get away. I am sure he would be happier if he were not here. I would miss him terribly though.
Tonny is special too. Did I mention that? She can sing these songs that have strange effects. If I am a fairy who shape shifts... I wonder if Tonny may be related to some singing mystical creature? Perhaps she is like a siren? It would be so very very odd then. The first two people who I can look upon as friends in my life and they would both be water aligned individuals.
As I mentioned before. There are some good things to be found here in Asylum. I spent seventeen years alone out there. In such a short period of time in Asylum I have found two people that I have become fond of. Is that a waste of a life? Or a good start to the rest of it?
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Posted: Fri Aug 20, 2010 1:54 pm
Daniel has a strong like of seafood. Which is to be clearly expected as he is part shark. I did not realize just how much shark he was until recently.
I have taken to sneaking into the kitchen in order to prepare actual food to eat. The stuff they serve to the rest of us is hardly real food. It is worse then anything you can find in a school cafeteria or jailhouse. Perhaps I am just a little too used to eating my mothers cooking, but really. It is bad. Daniel seemed to like it just fine while I, who had not eaten since that mouse, could barely tolerate it. So I took it upon myself to find a way to get into the kitchen.
I returned to the cafeteria a few times, but each time there was a cook present who would not let me in. Just as Daniel had warned, I even had a cleaver thrown at me. So I waited until there was no one working in the kitchen to try and find a way in.
Those doors are very strong. I could not force or jimmy them open. I could not pick the locks. I was frustrated to tell the truth. I needed and wanted to get in badly. So I sat and examined the door for I believe near an hour. As I did, I realized that there was a slight crack under the door. I could not have been more then a inch in height. Hardly useful to anyone who wanted entry. But then it occurred to me. I had taken the form of a cat once...so what about something small? Something well known for it's ability to squeeze into tiny spaces and cracks?
It hurt terribly when I started that change. In fact it is the most painful one I undergo on nearly a daily basis. I feel as if my bones are shattering and breaking. I hear them snap in my head. My organs feel like they are being compressed until they splatter inside. It just...hurts...so very very much. In the end though, I had to wiggle out of my cloths and found that, instead of a mouse, I looked more like a black gerbil with a rainbow tipped tail.
I squeezed under the door and found myself inside the vacant kitchen. Since then I have used this means to get inside and unlock the door, so I can get my cloths. I dislike the thought of cooking naked. I can lock the door behind me, so I need only worry about some staff member coming across me.
There is some good food in there. I do mean good food too. I suspect this is the stuff they feed to the staff. It makes sense they would keep it separated from the undesirable filler they give tot he rest of us. I made Daniel a tuna noodle casserole the first time I was there. He really seemed to like it, which only made me very pleased. This was when I discovered just how shark like he was in fact.
I was merely being playful, and I took the casserole, as if I meant to take it away from him. Daniel responded by lurching at me. It was really more of a leap now that I think about it. I have discovered Daniel is far faster then what you would expect of a being his size.
He is also very weighty. He is quiet solid and heavy. I dare say I am fortunate he did not break my ribs when he took me down. Daniel had me pinned, and for a brief time I really thought he was joking. It was not until I actually looked at him that I realized he did not have the same sort of expression on his face. He looked like he was giving serious thought to killing me.
I wanted to panic and struggle to get free. I know without a doubt I never would have shaken free of him. Worse yet, I am afraid my struggles would have only urged him on to harm me. I remembered how I had blindly panicked in the past. It has only ever served to make my situation worse. I am relieved to say that appealing to Daniels love of food is what saved me from possibly becoming just that. Since then I have decided not to touch anything of his that he has or means to eat. I do not wish to be engaged in that sort of situation ever again.
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Posted: Fri Aug 20, 2010 2:04 pm
I had my first kiss. And a second since then. I do not think I am very good at it to tell the truth. I feel awkward and uncertain. I have seen kisses in movies and, between you and I, they look disgusting. I do not see how the presence of a tongue in one's mouth can be sensual. All I think of is all that saliva and urgh. My mouth feels unclean just thinking about it.
My first kiss was nothing like that though. Daniel was soft at first, then very firm. I found the intimacy of the gesture to be far more appealing. Well, that and perhaps the way he just..held himself.
Yes. My first kiss was with Daniel. I wonder if maybe I am just as gay as he has been accusing me of. I mean...I caught him acting rather silly and threatened to tell others.
There really are no others I could have told. Not that they would believe me. In addition, I never would want to shame Daniel in such a matter. It is true I was teasing him with the threat, but had he grown upset or glare I would have recanted immediately. Daniels opinion of me means far too much to risk over a tease.
Much to my surprise, he agreed. I can't say I was disappointed or scared. I suppose I felt a moment of shy surprise. He went about it in such a strange way you know? I had not even realized he had cornered me until my shoulders brushed the wall behind me. I felt...boxed in..but oh...what a kiss.
I didn't want him to stop. I felt light headed and honestly, it has been the best moment of my life since my arrival. I did not want to ruin it once the kiss was broken. I did not want to show how strangely I had been effected. I did not want to disgust or annoy Daniel with my mood. So, we laid down and slept. I think it was the first time I did not change into a feline to snuggle up against him.
Since then the kiss occupied a good deal of my thoughts. So much so that I found myself wondering if there was some way to convince Daniel to do it again. I suppose my clumsy efforts to flirt with Daniel were obvious. He asked me pointedly what it was that I was about and...I just...well I admitted it. I'm terrible at lying and subterfuge. Is that not ironic? My entire life was a long game of pretend and concealment. I can't even hide my own feelings.
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Posted: Sat Aug 21, 2010 2:46 pm
We have plans. I think for the first few days I felt as if they were mere musings. Daydreaming fantasies of plans that most likely would never be carried out. Daniel is not the sort to daydream though I think. I came home from scavenging to find the room utterly coated in drywall dust.
Daniel and I had spoken of knocking down a wall between his room and the room to the next. This would extend his current room and give us more space. This would serve two purposes. The first would be to give me a place to store what few possessions I will manage to obtain here. The second, and main purpose of the extension is that Daniel and I wish to create our own kitchen. We are hoping to find some discarded kitchen equipment in the lower levels. If we can manage to find a oven, stove, and refrigerator we will be set. I will only have to raid the kitchen for fresh ingredients for our kitchen perhaps once a week. It would feel far less painful and dangerous this way I am sure. So long as I do not create a pattern to be predictable with.
Daniel speaks at times of trading with others. I think I will allow him to oversee such interactions. I do not know the value of things here yet, and I would not wish to be cheated or to miss out on a good bargain. I will just be content to have a safe place to cook.
Daniel says we need nails for the second rooms door. I know where there are some, but they are of iron. So I can not bring them here. I should warn Daniel of this metal, but I find myself balking. I do not want him to think me weak. Perhaps if I just...get used to having it around? Is that possible? All the folk lore I've ever read concerning iron say's that it is fatal to my people. I find that danger is providing a good counter to my embarrassment. So I am hovering between the two in hopes it will never come up I suppose.
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