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 Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2007 8:48 pm
Writ was bored. He was just walking around the blocks of Middling on a lazy Sunday afternoon. It felt hazy in his mind, it was just the day, no one did anything, kids went to church or whatnot, shops were usually closed or slow moving. Nothing seemed to happen.
He kept walking, and figured that he could try to talk his God again. Whoever this "Coyote" was, he was either a very quiet God, or a very rude one for not answering him. He didn't get what he was doing wrong. Writ frowned, and his ears fidgeted.
"Come on... Give me a sign, anything." He said out loud, getting a stare or two, "You're a God, you can do something like that, right?"
Coyote was listening, but now wasn't the time, besides, the haze in the kid's mind was getting to him like the desert sun at it's peak, so he slept.
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Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2007 9:05 pm
Ciro had made no effort to contact his god; there was no need. All he had to do was fight. He could win it without that annoying p***k getting off on tangents about justice.
What the godling did wonder, however, was if perhaps, just maybe, this whole ‘possessed by a God’ business was the cause of his Dissociative Identity Disorder. Would a god go about taking over a child’s body to ‘punish’ those he felt unjust? Didn’t he have something better to do? Teeth gritted as he tried to think of the solution; maybe he wasn’t actually insane. Maybe it was just his god.
‘You’re a god; you can do something like that, right?’
His attention snapped. Quickly, as if waiting for an attack, Ciro’s entire focus went to the one who had made those comments. His hood had narrowed his field of vision… But it was a kid’s voice. A kid had said that… another player!
It didn’t take long for the prodigy to figure out who the source of the comments were, but why would he be so… open about it? Wasn’t that the kind of thing that they locked people in the loony bin for saying? (Well, duh, the very thing had happened to him.)
Safe decisions, safe decisions. It wouldn’t be wise to go and blatantly say “I must kill you now.” to someone he didn’t know. What if it was just some misguided religious zealot? Being hasty would be a folly.
A smart decision, the boy decided, would be to observe a bit more. He could actually be another player. It was decided: he’d follow the boy for a while, and come to a conclusion of just what it—heyyyy wait. He had funky ears. Of course he was a player.
But that didn’t mean that he was safe, Ciro reprimanded himself. It would be wise to stick to the original plan and investigate a bit more.
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Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2007 9:17 pm
Kids say the darndest things, don't they?
Anyway.
Writ didn't notice the other Godling, nor did Coyote do anything to point the follower out. It was really just business as usual. The kid stretched and yawned. When did the church let out? What exactly did those kids do in those places anyway? They prayed and sang and stuff, that he knew, but he's seen people do that everywhere. Keeping it to one place didn't make sense.
Writ's ears twitched again as he walked down to his parent's cafe, and went through the door. He'd probably just chill for a while until his friends came over.
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Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2007 9:34 pm
Coffee.
Did normal kids even drink coffee? Seriously. Every other person his age Ciro knew was already a ball of hype and annoying. Did he really need coffee on top of that?
Would it even be smart to go into a closed building without any sort of protection? Well…. He had Shamash; as if he was any help. But what if it was an ambush? A surprise attack? This new kid was younger, so Ciro was pretty sure he could take him. What if he was armed?
Ah, damnit! This whole game business was damn annoying! He’d just go in, get a coffee, get a closer look at the kid, and then leave if it looked boring.
If it looked good; well, then, he’d plan. Somehow this game’d have to get started, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be taken off guard.
The door gave off an annoying clink as he opened it, and yet another as he closed it after him. Stupid doors, they always made annoying noises that the boy couldn’t stand.
With an awkward glance around the room, Ciro made his way towards the counter, keeping his face more than sufficiently covered by his hoodie.
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Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2007 9:54 pm
"Hey Writ, is that you?" His dad's voice came from the kitchen.
"Yeah!" He called back, "What is it?"
"Could ya watch shop for a little bit? Your mother and I need to get milk."
The kid looked around, the cafe was empty for the most part, except for the hooded person who made their way to the counter. One customer. Nothing he couldn't handle.
"Uhh, sure." Writ said loudly, going behind the counter.
"Thanks." His dad said, his ears caught the sound of the closing back door.
And so Writ went behind the counter and over to the boy. It seemed a bit hot for a hood, but he's seen weirder fashion statements around here.
"What can I get cha?"
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Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2007 10:26 pm
So he worked there. That was the big secret behind the coffee. Well, good, kids didn’t need any more pep.
“Iced coffee, black, please.”
Even despite trying to appear somewhat aloof and rather rushed, Ciro’s eyes were plastered on this kid. Golden eyes, markings, strange ears; he was definitely part of the game. But how would he go about trying to solve what to do next?
What did one generally do when they meet another child of a god? Was there some type of etiquette for addressing such a situation, or was Ciro on his own?
At the very least, he knew the boy worked here (Or at least his parents did, judging from the conversation).
Just keep gathering information, he reminded himself, there is no need to become hasty.
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Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2007 10:45 pm
Iced black coffee... Writ didn't think anyone around here took poison such as that. Black coffee was nasty, least when he tried it, nothing but bitterness. But hey, you meet someone new everyday.
"Alrighty." He sighed, some people just like their coffee that way. The kid turned temporary barista poured a cup of old brew in the blender along with a cup of ice shoveled underneath the counter. He turned the blender on, and held the cap until the coffee and ice were properly mixed. After a noisy minute or two, it was done. Writ poured the concoction into a plastic cup and gave it to Mr. Hoodie.
He was about to ask for two-fifty, but before the formality, he tilted his head and asked curiously,
"Why do you have your hood on?"
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Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2007 11:09 pm
Iced... He asked for iced. Not blended. But… Well, never being one to complain, Ciro simply scowled at the drink. Blended drinks were for pansy girls who could barely pronounce the coffee drinks they were ordering. Blended was for people who decided to call a small drink a ‘tall drink’. Blended wa—Tangents. Tangents were not good. Tangents were not safe.
“Why do you care?”
The retort was fairly bitter. Probably a good deal more bitter than the blended black coffee that Ciro had taken possession of.
Why should he have to answer to a little snot working at a coffee shop, anyway?
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Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2007 11:31 pm
Writ's ears drooped a little, and he wasn't smiling.
Coyote growled.
"Chill out, why not do a sudoku or something?" Writ looked under the counter and found his Sudoku book of boredom. It was completely new. Puzzles weren't really his thing.
He slid the book across the counter, the tightly packed pages of the book pushed against the cup, and all of the "Iced" coffee spilled onto the jerk's precious shirt.
"Whoops! Sorry!" He said, doing his best clumsy server impression, "Let me get some napkins!" He got away from behind the counter and plucked up some napkins from a table that was there to hold condiments. Writ came over to the guy and gave them to him.
The Godling was trying to hold back a laugh, and Coyote was hysterical.
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Posted: Fri Apr 06, 2007 12:01 am
Coffee boy: god of retards. It was noted. He would decide to take him out first, if in at all possible.
Well… At the very least, the store was deserted. Even more so, outside seemed vacant of anyone to walk around. Now was more or less his chance. Swatting away the offered napkins, his smirk turned icy and malicious, yet a strangely warm feeling took control of his body.
The wet hoodie came off easily enough. Disgarding it on the floor in a crumped heap, (Having removed the curtain and the stage set), his horns were now in their full glory, illuminated by the florescent bulbs of the café. He stood, looking the very image of the devil himself, with a cruel and loathing expression smeared across his face.
“You see, child.” His voice, though not amassed nor influenced by his god, sounded strangely deeper and more experienced.
“Like you, I’m a God.”
“However…. Unlike you, I have things called pride, self-restraint, intelligence, and control.”
His patronizing tone was slowly but surely pulling Shamash into the scene, for the god wondered what sort of offense his pupil was punishing.
“Maybe you are just careless or ignorant…. But I’d advise you to be more aware of your surroundings. You may get seriously…” At this, a chuckle formed down in his throat, “Hurt…” He paused, letting the words slide off of his tongue and reach their full effect, “if you don’t.”
“This game is not truly a game…. You can, and will most likely, be killed.”
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Posted: Fri Apr 06, 2007 12:29 am
Coyote growled again, this kid was pissing him off, and if he was any representation of his God, he'd probably hate him or her too.
Writ however, was moving back to the safety of behind the counter, intimidated, his eye still on the horn kid. He didn't quite know what self-restraint and intelligence meant exactly, rather big words for an 11 year old. But his ears weren't quite listening to all of it anyway, he had fragments, like him being part of the game, even though those weird horns screamed that fact.
That's it. As much as he hated to put a leash on Writ, Coyote had to do this.
The arrowhead grew red-hot, and for a second, Writ lost control. The kid turned his back, looking like he was making a drink as the marks darkened.
The Godling picked up a boiling glass container of water that was left on the counter, a Decanter, Writ called it. He slowly took a hold of it's plastic handle. Coyote felt the glass with his free hand. Hot enough. He turned his head around, showing his marks and his narrowed eyes.
With a final surge of all of his power, Coyote forced his Godling to throw the boiling water at the kid. With that, the God stopped. Taking control took all of his power, and he collapsed inside of Writ's mind. He really REALLY needed to talk to that kid soon.
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Posted: Fri Apr 06, 2007 12:55 am
Ciro was well aware that when one used fighting words, one had to fight. He had entered the café well aware that something would happen. The water was, first of all, easy enough to deal with. His discarded, (Iced coffee soaked) hoody was well in the air by the time the water was within range. The hoody itself blocked most the water, while the remaining sprinkles rained upon the godling’s face.
Really…. Wasn’t boiling water supposed to hurt more? Or… Hurt at all? Ciro was confused, but it didn’t matter. Not now. Now was supposed to be a time when he beat the s**t out of the kid who just flung freakin’ BOILING WATER at his face. His left hand groped desperately at his back pocket, trying to find the Swiss army knife he had been carefully toting around at the request of the voice in his head. s**t. It wasn’t there?! He must have left it under his bed when his parents got too curious the night before.
“It’s going to be mighty hard to kill me with just that, you know. What’s next, whipped cream?”
Regardless... The knife was no big loss. There was no reason why he couldn’t just pummel the kid half to death as a warning.
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Posted: Fri Apr 06, 2007 1:07 am
Coyote wasn't disappointed that the water missed, it was only a warning, after all.
Writ had no idea what happened, he was behind the counter, now he was still behind the counter with a empty Decanter in his hand, and he remembered feeling angry at the kid, and hatred, and every desire to kill him. Unfortunately for Ciro, Writ was still feeling that.
"Get out of my cafe!" Writ yelled, he took a bread knife by the panini press, it's point and serrated edge made a intimidating weapon indeed.
"NOW!"
Okay, Coyote was definately going to talk to him, today. This was getting ridiculous.
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Posted: Fri Apr 06, 2007 1:24 am
What next came from the younger Hammurabi could only be described as a snort. A Snort that erupted into a mass of laughter; velvety, feminine laughter that was all at once acting yet in complete seriousness.
It took him a moment to compose himself before wiping his eyes and letting loose the last chortle.
“You mean to tell me it took you that long to threaten me… And yet still you insist on nonviolence? Even after what I just said?”
Nearly bursting into a new fit of giggles, he coughed out a final scoff before smirking once more.
“My god is Shamash, and I am your savior. You’ll be much, much happier dead than under my reign, I can tell you that.”
Not even taking the time to retrieve his hoody, (Feeling quite confident with no one around,) Ciro was grinning almost madly as he opened the door, yet still facing the younger boy.
“Now, youngin’: I’m not wasting my time on you… I think real life, (Let alone the game!), will take care of disposing of you without me soiling my hands.”
With every air of confidence, his exeunt of the shop seemed flawless. In no time he was out of the vision of the little ********.” Being out of both eyesight and earshot, he was finally able to relax. “I can’t be taken off guard again. Damnit, why didn’t I bring that thing with me? UGH.”
He felt no shame in pummeling his fist against the nearby brick wall, but rather, quite a sense of pain.
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Posted: Fri Apr 06, 2007 8:56 am
Writ did not like this guy's laugh, nor this guy. His ears folded back. A growl emminated from the back of his throat. He watched as he left, letting him have his laugh.
Mr. Hoodie said his god was Shamash, well, when it came to collecting information, Writ came up on top. He knew the boy's god's name, he knew what he looked like, and he knew what he could ask the Green lady about now that he has a name. Writ knew all of this the boy didn't know anything about him, except for the cafe, but he'll let that slide. People thought he was stupid, but it was all part of the plan.
He still didn't know how the Decanter got into his hands, or why he took a knife out, that wasn't like him at all.
Coyote was still breathing heavily from exhaustion. Shamesh? Overbearing a** of a god if he remembered him right. A lot older than him though. He can't let Writ be without a clue forever, especially with a lot more powerful gods in play.
Kid... Writ jumped as a tired-sounding voice invaded his mind, It's me.
"Coyote?"
...Yeah. Look, there's some tea you need to brew tonight, it's from your mother's stash.
"But-"
It's on the top shelf, get it, we need to talk.
(Fin)
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