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 Posted: Wed Apr 30, 2008 6:17 pm
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Posted: Wed Apr 30, 2008 6:18 pm
What do you do when you do not know what to do, recorder. When no courses of action is acceptable, desireable, wanted by any stretch of simplistic imagination, what do you do?
I always fought. I always forced myself back into the situation, always made sure that while I did not know what to do, I still knew what to do and I took it. Look where it left me: on this pale attempt at a planet with people like
He is going to leave. He is going to be plucked up by the one who sent him here and taken back to his old planet. Forever. Forever, according to my Sibling, is the infinite expanse of time as any being can comprehend. What then? He will continue guarding his prince and go back to his old life, just as it was, as if he had never left.
Leaving his father and brother and the Unit, up and gone without a care. Where does that leave them? The Unit was built between two for many but now one of those two will be leaving. The mission is to find the lost little criminals, to help bring them into the fold so they are not alone as we were, and that will last a good long while. The Unit will be fine. If empty and quiet. The beds will be replaced.
There is nothing to do when you do not know what can be done. He doesn't want anything to be done about it, he wants to go back to that place. His world with their prince.
In the end, it will be nothing. Here, on Gaia, anyway. When you are away from your life, surrounded by others who know nothing of it, it is easy to forget some of the worse things and to make it either seem unreal or too real to be true. So when he returns, he will be back to what he knew to be his in the fist place, away from this world that many of the criminals think of as strange or horrible, with his old comrades and his prince, his all, his life. This place will be easy to forget.
I was an idiot, recorder, to have thought anything otherwise.
I am going to go swim. My face burns.
Kian
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Posted: Thu May 08, 2008 8:24 pm
Kian dreamed.
Korshan ran.
The woods he was streaming through weren't the ones he grew up in; instead of being colorless and flat, without any real shade, there were colors. They were vibrant and lush, with bright greens and browns and golds of the fall. Grass and leaves crushed underfoot - he was without shoes and instead of wearing the wrap-around he was so used to, he wore a pair of jeans, loose, and a dark shirt. He didn't know the color.
Or these woods.
Still, he ran.
Wind, cold, twisted through his hair, pressed those large ears back against his skull. He didn't know how such thick woods could give such a breeze but, there you were.
Suddenly, it stopped. Woods abruptly turned to a rocky valley, a harsh drop-off from green to brown. Korshan stumbled, trying to turn a run into a dead stop in too quick of a time. His feet slid out from under him, he fell, he hit hard ground with a harsh thud.
The sky was not blue. Not only blue, either way. Black, bright-soft blue, yellow, red, all meshed and tied together in a disturbing, dark and beautiful. Somehow.
Someone was there with him suddenly. They were dark to his light and faceless. Long fingers, tall as he, and suddenly Korshan was dark, too. Black leeched onto the pale. He cried out, twisted around. Someone was there? No one had ever been there. Next to him, anyway. It almost calmed him.
The rock around him disappeared, collapsing to leave a moat of air. He could still see the giant, jutting up from a ground he could not see. The circle he was standing on was about three feet across, jagged edges and they were bright blue as well. The rest was brown, as brown as the forest, and he was alone once again.
Something tore. His body jerked and the black seperated from him in a cloud. It was still in his form but it pieced together to form a doppleganger of Korshan, smiling wickedly, his neon blue eyes narrowed. The almost-Korshan spread his arm wide as the black dust slowly left him, disentigrating into the air.
He mouthed something before he sanded off into the sky, the redblackblueyellow sky, and Korshan screamed after him in rage.
He was screaming because he was falling. That jerk from the tearing, the lack of that.. the thing that had tore, had sent him over the almost-small edge of his grounding.
Korshan fell, screamed.
Kian fell, screamed into his pillow and thrust his arms up in a crude deformation of a push-up. All three eyes stared blankly at the dark wood of his bed and then he collapsed, face once more buried into the bitten, torn fabric. Stuffing leaked around his face. He was able to excuse the liquid as sweat before he slept.
Kian dreamed no more.
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2008 9:06 am
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Posted: Tue Jul 29, 2008 5:11 pm
....a lot of stuff happens here.
Insert Autsu-related things and summer events.
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Posted: Tue Jul 29, 2008 5:34 pm
Kian journal that Iamel finds
'Holy ******** we're in love' RP goes under it. I say so
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Posted: Tue Jul 29, 2008 5:39 pm
Kian lay silent, the bed astir with nothing. Autsu was there, asleep, and Kian knew he truly was asleep because Autsu awake would have made some mistake by then, some out of character movement. Instead, he laid there like the dead with the occasional finger or eyelid twitch.
Kian had slept for an hour, maybe two, before jerking awake in one breathless full-bodied twitch. Autsu, obviously exhausted, had continued to sleep. Kian didn't blame him.
Since then, he ha stared up at the ceiling helplessly, eyes half-opened in the manner of a lazy cat. His body was tense.
It had been some time since words had been spoken on emotions - Kian still wasn't sure what HE had said - and things had since... Shifted. Not on the surface (he knew if they changed how they treated one another too much that things would crumble. Things, of course, meaning himself) but the tone to it all had changed.
To Kian, it made no sense and absolutely sense, all at the same time. The ignition of sparks had eason and a name behind it all.
What was once a jumble of intense and confused emotions had been detangled and laid bare on the preverbial table. They had names (fearangerwantneedresentmentlustadmireationesperation) and easily defined characteristics although they often melted a few together. Love was a combination of several (desperationwantneeddesireadmiration) but it wasn't able to be sorted and laid out.
No, instead it opened him up and laid him naked for the taking. Kian preferred the nudity he had enjoyed previously, in all honesty.
The very word 'love sent him soaring while simultaniously pummeling his stomach into the ground.
He had told Autsu that the emotions were worthless; Kian hadn't lied, then. Autsu would leave and those emotions would remain with no outlet and fall to naught. For now, at least, they had an outlet.
They were also keeping him very awake each night. He would feel tired or exhaust himself with Autsu and would attempt sleep. It would come quickly and envelope him for up to three hours (which was rare) before abruptly releasing him.
The tip of his tail twitched it agitation. Kian wanted to turn, to shake Autsu awake somehow, and demand his second speak with him on other more senseless matters. Autsu would, he knew, although he would be tired and confused. He would humor Kian in that manner.
The thought was disgustingly comforting and Kian wanted to shake him for an entirely new reason. He just closed his eyes instead, still so very tense. Autsu would not always be there.
That was the problem.
Stupid Kiamel. Kniene. ******** Autsu.
Without Autsu, there woul have been no Unit, no renewed sense of self that came with doing something worthwhile. Also without Autsu, perhaps he would not have cared. Being surrounded while feeling alone was something he was used to. He could have handled it on Gaia.
The loving thing, not so much.
Next to him, Autsu stirred. Kian stilled. His lovers breathing eepened once more.
"I would not have you leave." Kian said before he knew he was speaking. His voice was not loud, a mere rumble at best. "I will fight because you will not and I will lose."
Kian paused, twisted so he was on his side facing Autsu and could at least attempt sleep in relative comfort.
"But at least I will have fought. Maybe that will be enough."
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Posted: Wed Aug 06, 2008 10:26 pm
The peaceful protests had gone horribly wrong. What had started as a meeting in a public area with pens and paper* as their weapons, turned into a riot and the first arrest since Jo'nas - and he had been the first in generations.
His Parental, Izzrah, was to be the second it seemed.
It had arranged the meeting and asked several other council members to attend as well, to hear them out with their requests. The day had been as all other days before it, with a moderate temperature and a cool, yet comforting, air to it. They had met in the Communities local open space where Younglings often went after they attended their schoolings, a relaxed place for many Citizens to sit.
It had been pleasant, very much so until Izzrah had started speaking. The crowd of a hundred or so Citizens, not including the council members, had fallen absolutely silent as the soft-spoken Citizen had begun to talk. It was talk of change and gentle alterations, the call of lack-of-them. Maybe, Izzrah said, being different was not altogether bad. Maybe they did not have to be changed to be equal.
The Council members had not taken it well. Their faces had been blank with shock and they whispered amongst one another for many moments. That's when the arrests started.
Izzrah never wondered where the 'extra' younglings went. Each Turn fifty younglings were handed to new Parentals while fifty-five were always born. Stillbirths and complications happened, of course, and many who knew of the birth rate were content to brush it off as a genetic malfunction.
It saw now that being content - a thing its precious Jo'nas never was - was not enough. Content made them vulnerable to manipulation and, as it saw the white bodies coming at them in odd clothing with larger builds that no normal Citizen had, right for suppression.
Jo'nas was right.
The thought was terrifying and it rose from the mouths of several of those around it. Jo'nas had been right. He had seen all the things that were wrong, needed to be change and that sometimes violence was needed.
A citizen screamed as a Not-Citizen descended upon them. Something metallic flashed -
Blood.
This time, it was Izzrah screaming. Hands raised - and broke - when a large Not Citizen grabbed with crushing strength.
Jo’nas had it good when they had knocked him out. Pain, Izzrah was learning, hurt. These Non-Citizens... hurt.
She wanted her child.
Only after the blunt edge of a weapon hit her cheek - another crunch - did Izzrah give into the black.
* Or their peoples equivilent of.
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Posted: Sun Jan 24, 2010 3:33 pm
Into The BasementKian discovers his mothers corpse. Autsu finds him and takes him away.
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Posted: Sun Jan 24, 2010 3:34 pm
Natural HabitatKian and Autsu in the wild so Kian can mourn and recover from Izzrah's death.
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Posted: Tue Jun 15, 2010 8:59 pm
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Posted: Tue Jun 15, 2010 9:18 pm
[This particular recording into his voice-diary is in Kian's native language]
Recorder,
I am angry again.
I - no. Let me rephrase - I have always been angry. Even in my old life, I had a temper and Izzrah always said it would get the best of me. She was right, I ended up killing many of my own kind because I am sometimes a selfish person and always a very angry person. When I first landed here, I screamed and yelled and hated everything.
For a while, the anger died. It locked itself very down deep while I gained a life here on Gaia. Strange how a friend and a smile and some tea with sugar and a sling stolen from a brothers room can change so much. He was angry too. Is? I don't see anger there anymore, not unless we fight. We haven't fought for a while, now.
But I - My mother is dead. The one from my first world. I did not call her my mother there, she was just like everyone else, had allowed them to alter her but she fought for me after they sent me here. They sent her too but whole and dead. I put her in the freezer until someone fetched him.
The anger didn't even come back then, with her quiet and bruised face staring up at me. Not when she burned or when we fished and swam and pretended all was fine and nothing changed. When he told me his precious leader was coming for him, I had been angry, yes, but not the same rage - not what it was I felt when I lived under the name Korshan.
Maybe it is because I am so close to the age I was when they sent me here. Not old enough to have been given my own child, had I let them change me, but too old to have lived with my Parentals. The impending sense of finality, that the difference is crossing? I just know I am angry. Not at him or at my parent here, at anyone in particular, I am just angry.
I don't think I could go back living like I had as Korshan. That was all, just, violence. Death and destruction, small children... I did not like it then, I would not like it now. So unlike my (younger?) previous self, I will control this twitching anger.
I do not like having to control it. I would rather it not be there anymore. It was very enjoyable when I was able to let go of it and simply, I don't know - live. Maybe it will control me again another day as it almost does each time I think of my mother, fully, entirely, but I will fight it.
Instead of being angry and thinking of being angry, Recorder, I will go and beat the living death into something soft and inanimate. There are other things to do than be angry.
Goodnight.
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