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 Posted: Mon Jun 25, 2012 4:49 pm
When: An otherwise pleasant afternoon.
Who: Candace Provdan, Alfons and Konstantin Wieczorek.
Where: A butcher's shop.
Rarely came the day that Candace could say and mean that she hated life - but today was one of those days, a day that was created just to test how strong she truly was. The bottle - the bottle glowed softly now, an aura around it, and it moved. As she had noted the first night she was sure it moved, inanimate objects usually did not move, and as such the bottle was quickly becoming a source of terror for her. It sat there, twitching occasionally and apparently hopping towards the counter (perhaps to run away? Candace didn't know and she was too scared of it to pick it up - she had no idea if it could do anything but glow and twitch and had no real want to find out - and so it remained, almost completely motionless during the day) and mocking her with its existence.
She tried, however, to continue living as though it wasn't there. She tried to gloss past it when she glanced around her room and spent more time at work to compensate for the fact that she'd, naively, set the bottle in the center of the room and was thus very difficult to escape noticing. Candace wandered around Amies, looking for things to do and people to see and meet in its stead. And it wasn't as though the city wasn't fascinating - it was, in fact, so much so that she didn't notice when her bag went a little bit lighter when a pickpocket relieved her of her money.
Candace might never have realised if she hadn't consolidated her sight-seeing plan with a trip to get meat for her dinner. When her hand slipped into her bag, she came up empty - no money, no wallet, no nothing. Everything that she'd worked for was gone. If she'd been in her right mind, she would have just been glad she'd only taken a small amount of her money with her so that she could buy her food and then return home, but someone preoccupied by moving things that shouldn't move, someone who was afraid to sleep or even be in her own house in fear of the thing that moved that shouldn't move wasn't someone in their "right mind". And, as such, her immediate reaction was to excuse herself (very politely) from the counter, lean against a wall, and start bawling, crying so hard that she could hardly manage to breathe.
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Posted: Thu Aug 23, 2012 9:46 am
On normal days, a trip to the butcher's was largely uneventful. With normal families, a trip to the butcher was expected. Neither of these two things were the case when it came to a grouchy looking blond man and the dark skinned child beside him, decked in a tattered, hooded shirt and pants that slipped well over his feet in length but managed to stay tight against his waist. Messy black hair fell in his face, concealing the boy's eyes when he lowered his gaze -- as instructed by his guardian. On this day, the very opposite of a normal day with the opposite of a normal family visiting the butcher, of course something even stranger would occur.
It was Alfons' bad luck to invite disaster, after all.
When they opened the door to the shop, there was near silence save for the woman tucked into a corner wailing so hard she barely made a sound. All that came out was a soft wheezing and everyone in the store was doing their best to both ignore the woman and offer her an occasional gaze of sympathy. Alfons preferred the former. His brown eyes narrowed harshly, unperturbed by the situation, and he took a spot in line for the meats that he neither wanted to touch nor eat. A trip here was for one reason and one reason only; the child's diet consisted almost entirely of meat while his own was much more green and faceless.
Beside him, the boy shifted. While it was easy for Alfons to fall into a state of apathy for others, this was something Konstantin had never experienced before. He stood behind his guardian, dark fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. The child swallowed hard, clenched his eyes shut, gazed up woefully at the back of his alpha's head, then turned just enough to look over his shoulder at the poor woman without his hood impeding. He couldn't tell how old she was but certainly she was no older than Alfons. The way her face was red with embarrassment and frustration, the look of sheer horror and loss across her face, how could anyone just stand there and ignore her? That was precisely what he thought as he sidled up near her and crouched down with his arms folded across the tops of his knees. For a moment he stared, waiting for her to gasp or catch her breath, but it seemed impossible. When he finally felt as though there was a moment for him to be heard, he leaned forward slightly and asked softly, "What's wrong?"
Though his attentions were elsewhere, actively trying to drown out the sounds of the woman, Alfons could not help but notice the low voice of the child under his care. With a look of disgust, he turned back to gaze at them, patting the side of his leg roughly (the sound muffled by his trousers) and whispering his name sharply. "Konstantin," he hissed, own cheeks reddening some from anxiety. The line moved up one and his feet followed without a thought, drawing him further away from the child and the sobbing woman. Damn it all, the pup was unruly as ever. If the people ahead of him would hurry up and he could get the boy's meat faster, he could just drag Kon away while leaving the shop and be done with this stupid situation entirely. Fate was never that kind.
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