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 Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 3:15 pm
It was always easy to tell when you'd stumbled into Middling's residential areas. Each area had its own distinct architectural influence, so that one side of the street could look radically different from the other side. Even the little restaurants and cafes squeezed tightly between the apartments were radically different.
Even with the world destroyed, the last peoples left held tenaciously onto the old cultures. Places like Little Italy, Greece, France, Romania sprang up - some neighborhoods spanning blocks, others small and made up of only a few buildings.
His neighborhood was like that. Small, bordered on all sides by other cultures. It made for some interesting times, some interesting arguments, some interesting parties.
Stepping out his front door, Valeriu had decided he'd had enough of interesting times. His own nature wouldn't let him stop worrying over Ciro, and his own problems from the past few days didn't enjoy taking a backseat to that worry. Digging his house key out from his sweatshirt pocket, he carefully locked the door behind him, secure in the knowledge that Sydni was safe in the hands of a hand-picked babysitter. It was a cold morning, but a good day to get some chores out of the way.
He'd been doing chores a lot lately.
Turning back around and shoving his cold hands deep into his front pockets, he hopped down the steps quickly, like a man on a mission, and looked up at the bright, cold sun.
It might be a good day today.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 3:31 pm
Quinn closed his eyes and breathed. Raising one hand in the air, he created a star of light, having it hover in front of his face. He willed electricity into his fingers, and shot a bolt from each hand to meet in the middle at the star. He was off by a bit, and the bolts hit his toaster, making a loud noise. He winced, but not, surprisingly, from the electric shock. It didn’t hurt his fingers like it usually did. From this small success, he pumped his fist in the air, a large bolt of lightning jumping from his fist to the ceiling, making a scorch mark. He wished it was cloudy. He hoped people would believe it was some sort of… sudden magic storm?
“Okay, so maybe I don’t have it under quite as much control as I’d like.” He experimented with his ball of light again, and sent a shock into it. The shock bounced around the ball, staying connected but not dying. He grinned, and added another. And another. Soon, the ball was covered in jumping bolts of lightning. He put the light out, however, and the electricity found the best place to go. The toaster, again. The bang was really loud, and Quinn winced. It was bent totally out of shape.
“One more thing…Let’s see if I can…” Actually getting some sleep was good for him. He was back in control of his mental faculties, and was gaining more control of his lightning. The godling willed another bolt of lightning to jump from one hand to the other, a small one, but he tried changing its color from lightning-colored to pink. It worked, and he grinned. He shot a bolt of orange lightning at the wall, and it made an orange mark on the wall.
“I CAN MAKE COLORS!” He whooped, and jumped into the air, as if this was his single greatest accomplishment of the day. He tried sustaining a constant bolt against the wall, in an arc, making a pink semi-circle, and it worked, with only a few stutters. Under it, he added a blue, then an orange. “It’s a mini-rainbow!” He then realized that he’d have to clean it up, eventually, but he wasn’t worried about that now. He glanced at the clock.
“Oh, crap, my interview!” Quinn threw on his messenger bag and darted out the door, jumping out. He thought for a minute. “Okay, so, My interview’s in thirty minutes. I have time to get some food, right? Hmm. There’s that guy in Little Romania who makes some kick-butt—what did he call it? Oh, yah, Mooshi Pooyana. Or something. I think that’s how you say it? I don’t know, it tasted good.”
Who are you talking to?
No one.
You are very strange, Quinn.
Little Romania it is!
He turned towards Little Romania, patting his stomach in preparation for his delicious meal. Then he lifted his head up and saw someone across the street that he did not need to see.
Oh my god.
Yes?
That wasn’t funny. LOOK! I’m just going to sneak away quietly…
This idea was quickly cut out as a possibility when a shock of red electricity jumped from him to a nearby trash can with a bang. With a lack of anything else to do, he lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers in a wave to the person who could have been his best friend.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 3:56 pm
By the time he'd definitely decided it was totally going to be a good day, his foot had hit the last step with a bang.
A bang?
Feet don't make banging noises, he decided. Dropping his gaze from where he'd been taking in the sky, he found the source of the noise.
For a minute, it didn't register. His face still had that same contemplative, relaxed air, still had the same near-happy shine to dark eyes that spoke of hopes for a sunny and nice day. Next moment, it shone with numb disbelief and confusion - accenting his surprise with a set of ears and tail that frizzed in alarm.
Finally, it settled on thunderous rage, blood-red eyes turning darker in fury and head lifting.
He'd come here to challenge him. To finish the job. He'd hunted him down to his home, come to kill him.
Sydni was still inside.
Quinn had made a big, big mistake in confronting Vale on his turf, close to the thing he needed to protect most. He wasn't going to let his sister come anywhere near danger.
So he took the fight to Quinn. In the blink of an eye, he dragged the shadows at his feet into the form of a few sharp spikes, hurling them through the air with deadly intent towards to the other godling. It may not have been a rain of daggers (he could only form a few small shadows), but it was aggressive enough and spoke clearly for himself.
Will kill you.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 4:07 pm
Quinn's eyes set into an angry glare. Why had Vale followed him to his house? Was he that bent on killing him? His mother was upstairs. Vale had been stupid to follow him to his house, next to the person he cared about most. The only thing he really felt like he needed to protect.
What had Vale come here to do? Challenge him? Kill him, like he tried to the last time they met? Why had he followed him all the way home? Quinn didn't care. Quinn just knew that he had made a mistake.
His colorless eyes shrunk to the size of pinpoints, and he let out an angry hiss as he ran towards Vale, deciding to bring the fight to him. He shot out both hands, large bolts of multicolored lightning arcing out at the other godling.
It didn't take him long to realize that they were going to meet in the middle of the street. Dark blades coming on him fast, he did a backflip, gymnastic skills paying off in the first real fight he'd had in the game.
Unfortunately, he didn't quite clear the shadows, and his hair suddenly felt much too loose around his head.
"MY BEANIE! MY <********> BEANIE!" Quinn never swore, but this infuriated him more than he thought anything possibly could. He stopped dead in his tracks, and glared at Vale.
That beanie was all he had left of his dad.
That beanie WAS his dad.
He watched the shreds hit the ground, and his buttons clatter on the street. He bent down to pick them up, and pocketed them quickly.
"You have no idea what you just did. I don't know why you came to my house, I don't know why you want to kill me so badly, but you just killed my father, and I'm not letting you touch my mom." By the end of the sentence, his voice had raised to a yell.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 4:44 pm
He didn't get a chance to see if his attack had hit, instead forced to drastically alter his course before he ran face-first into a bolt of lightning. He twisted, throwing himself to the side, but wasn't fast enough: one lucky strike had connected with his chest, and for a moment his conscious thought was filled with pain and white.
He hit the ground, skidding to a stop and feeling the uncomfortable burn of gravel-scraped injuries on his arm and knee. But the sharp sting in his chest hurt far worse, leaving spots in front of his eyes and the burnt remnants of what had been his sweatshirt, now improv-ing as a zipperless zip-up, almost ripped and burnt in half. The black mirror embedded in his chest was all too visible, along with all the little scars and knicks he'd gained from his extended vacation. Shaking his head with a wince and a low hiss, he pushed himself as quickly back to his feet as he could, swaying slightly and mind raw with anger.
"You are ee'nsane!" he yelled right back, ignoring his god cursing low and furiously in the background of his mind. "I have never killed a person! But this ee's my home! And my neighborhood! And I v'ill not leave you to put them ee'n danger, you lying, murderous snake!" His voice cracked at the end from the electric pain still wracking his body.
He hadn't yelled this much in his life. He hadn't been this angry before.
The rage was blinding, but strengthening. If he could just get his hands around that liar's throat again, he wouldn't hesitate this time. Reflexively, he called more shards of shadows into his hands, gripping them like knives.
No, the first chance he got, he was going to stab them straight through that serpent's tongue.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 5:05 pm
Quinn saw his lightning hit the boy, and he grinned with malicious excitement. He saw the boy's torso bared, and he crouched, reaching into his messenger bag and pulling out a can of bright red paint. He shook it, and held it ready in his hand. He pulled a blue one out with his other hand, shaking it as well.
"I am not insane! What are you doing on my street? That beanie was the last thing of my dad's I had, you a*****e!" Quinn tensed when Vale started rushing towards him, and put a lot of pressure into his crouch, ready to spring back up when he needed to. He waited till Vale was as close as he dared, then he leapt up from his spot, twisting to the side of his attacker like a matador from a bull, spraying both of his cans of spray paint at the godling's eyes as he did.
Dodging like this caused him to lose his footing, and he slid on the ground, but all he got was a few scrapes. He scrambled up to his feet as fast as possible and dropped the cans, pointing his hands at Vale and shooting out four different colors of lightning simultaneously. He aimed for the godling's chest.
"This is from my father. Hope you like rainbows."
You're being stupid. And showboating. You won't be able to muster up a charge like that for days. You'll be powerless when he recovers.
Yah, well, This is worth it.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 5:49 pm
It was a pretty stupid move, now that he thought on it. If he had pulled this back during training, there'd be a pair of claws sinking into his back and a large and crushing jaw breaking his neck.
But a jaguar had never gotten him so angry he didn't think. So he'd rushed, intent on driving those shards of darkness into the other boy, and found himself with an eyeful of spray paint.
He stumbled, blinded and momentum thrown off track, a distinctly animalistic yowl escaping him as he futilely rubbed at his burning eyes with the heels of his hands, attack momentarily forgotten as black tears reflexively pricked his eyes.
It hurt! He wanted to swear at the pain, but clenched his teeth tighter.
Wait.
He still had an enemy there! Frantically, his ears picked up, trying to pinpoint where the other boy had gone even as one hand uselessly rubbed at the paint. Too late, too late - another shock hit him, but rather than rushing through his body in a wave of pain, this one seemed to stay crackling on his skin, burning and jabbing for the briefest of moments. It felt like someone had held a candle to the spot and burnt his skin right off.
Snarling, he peered blearily down at his chest. His blurry sight could only make out a stripe of colors on his skin that were painful to the touch. In the form of a rainbow, planted squarely on his abdomen, over his lower ribcage.
His head jerked back up, and eyes locked onto Quinn in something akin to utter humiliation. As if Quinn had, with that one action, dishonored him for life.
And then he picked the shadows back up, darkness coating his fingers in wicked claws, and struck. He didn't aim to kill.
He aimed for retribution.
His attack was less refined, less polished, less extravagant than Quinn's tattooing. But it was just as satisfying. His claws aimed to cut, to dig deep and bloodily and drag and leave behind the black of darkness, marring and distorting and viciously writing over the chest tattoos that Quinn was so proud of - the black marks of a jaguar's claws ruining them.
"Hope you like black," he hissed right back, bringing up his other fist in a swinging punch to add insult to injury.
Or injury to insult. Or more injury to injury. Whatever worked - he wasn't picky.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 6:18 pm
Quinn didn't have long to enjoy his fresh tattoo work, as he was sliced across his pec by dark blades. It began bleeding, and his eyes widened. He was just thankful it was on the opposite side of his chest from his heart. Gasping, he staggered away from the boy, and watched the blood fall onto the ground.
"It took me weeks to perfect those. You jerk!" He wanted very badly to retaliate with another shock, but didn't have enough energy for even some static cling. Still a bit off balance from the attack, he staggered around for a second, before accidentally slamming into Vale.
Quinn felt like screaming. This day could not possibly get any worse.
He fell. He fell, and Vale fell with him. Under him. They hit the ground with a thud, and Quinn's head snapped back and forward, straight into the other godling's.
Resulting in their second kiss of the week.
DAMN IT. DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT. WHY? WHY?
Quetzalcoatl couldn't keep from laughing, though he had been silent for most of the battle.
Quinn was too startled to move for a few seconds, eyes wide and staring into Vale's. When he came to, however, he pulled off of Vale and flipped backward, half crab walking and half dragging himself away from the other boy.
For once, even Quinn was at a loss for words.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 6:41 pm
For the briefest of moments, he understood the dark glee Tezcatlipoca felt whenever he played the cruelest of jokes on others. This time, the feel of his shadow-clawed hands cutting through another for such a vicious reason was too perfect.
His vengeful laugh was bitten off in mid-breath, however, when he was taken down to the ground, hard. Having already been intimately acquainted earlier with the cement, his sides ached to meet it again, breath leaving him with a whoosh and a ringing in his ears that said head had met cement as well. He groaned, only to find the sound oddly muffled, and the strangest of pressures pressed against his lips.
His eyes snapped open. He knew this, he knew what came next. Quinn's devastating lightning would soon be ripping through his body, and this time he wouldn't survive such close contact.
Only no shocks came.
What?
His god had no words, but a strong urge pounded down on him to continue the battle, to kill the other godling.
But Quinn hadn't killed him. He'd had him set up right where he'd had him before, when his initial murder attempt had failed.
Pushing himself to sit up, he leaned back on his arms, shakily trying to regain his breath and torn between confusion and physical pain and shock and anger and a million other emotions that he could not deal with right now.
He ran.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 6:54 pm
Quinn breathed heavily as he watched Vale run away.
I didn't mean to do that.
Did I?
I don't think so.
Me neither.
Shut up!
He looked down at his wounds, and saw some darker, black blood mixed in with his own. Valeriu's? He tried touching his wound, and then winced. It felt...strange. Did their blood mix? He hoped not. That would be creepy. And not romantic at all.
Why did he care if it was romantic?
That was an accident.
Wasn't it?
I'm not so sure.
Me neither.
No one cares what you think!
Quinn grabbed his head, and hoped he wasn't going crazy. What he did know, though, was that he couldn't possibly let Vale get away with ruining his beanie. He found the buttons on the ground, covered with blood. He stuck them in his pocket for safekeeping.
I'm a mess. I should go clean up.
Or chase that Vale kid down and show him what for!
Do I really want to hurt him?
Of course I do!
...Do I?
"Quit talking to yourself, Quinn!" He yelled, then smacked himself in the forehead. He turned around and trudged back inside his house. He got in the bathtub, and began to shower, washing all the blood off. He heard some footsteps coming towards the bathroom, and immediately got into a defensive position. The door swung open, however, and it was his mother. She quietly pulled some bandages out of the medicine cabinet and turned off the water, disinfecting his wounds and wrapping him up.
Quinn was too shocked to say anything, and when his mother was finished, she left, and went back to watching television. He dried off, then walked into the living room and kissed her on the cheek. She smiled. He turned to leave.
"Je T'aime." Quinn froze. It was the most he had heard her speak in weeks. He turned back around and gave her a huge hug, and she weakly patted his back, and resumed watching the television.
Quinn shook his head, and then stepped out the door.
He had to find Vale. Vale knew where he lived now. He wouldn't let his mom be hurt.
He began running down the street towards where he had seen Vale run.
You're probably too far behind, now, Quinn.
That doesn't mean I can't try.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 7:10 pm
He ran like he had on that first day, when the ghosts had flooded the streets.
Only this time, he was running away. Heedlessly, he skidded through alleyways, twisting and winding until he was ridiculously lost. But more importantly, alone. Nobody to accidentally stumble across these darkest of areas, not even the homeless or druggies hid this deeply in the alleys.
He dropped, back to the wall and legs sliding out in front of him, breathing harshly from more than the exercise. It reminded him of earlier, sitting next to Ciro.
But it was just him here. Calming, he carefully and methodically rubbed at the paint on his face, trying not to get anymore in his eyes. He couldn't do much for the burns and scrapes on the rest of himself - no medical kit on hand. Even the softest of touches left him hissing in pain, and he darkly decided that electricity wasn't his favorite power at the moment.
Drawing his legs up, he rested his forehead on his arms, trying to calm his rage, calm his emotions. It didn't seem so long ago, the days when he was always in control, always reserved. A week. He groused to himself. Within a week of being back, he'd lost that sense of security.
Was this part of being a teenager, an adult? To act stupid, do stupid things, make stupid mistakes, get upset over, over...
He pushed the thought out of his mind.
Still not ready.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 7:38 pm
Quinn ran. He took a random turn every time he hit one, just hoping he might accidentally stumble upon the other boy.
Or that he wouldn't. He wasn't even sure.
He knew he had options. He knew he could call animals to help him find the boy. But he didn't. What would he do if he found them? He wasn't sure about that either.
After a while of running, he started getting tired. Then he came up with a plan. A manipulative plan, but a plan. He sat down on against an alley wall, and hissed for a cat to come to him. He pet it for a little bit, then started saying things to it. Eventually, the cat nodded and started running away.
The cat began going down alleys, communing with other cats, and going down more alleys until it spotted the boy on the pavement. It mewed, and strolled up to him, rubbing against his leg and looking up at him cutely. "Mrowr?" It snuggled up against him and purred.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 8:01 pm
He was surprised to see a cat so far down these streets, but nonetheless inexplicably cheered up.
Gently, so as to not jostle his still throbbing injuries, he picked the cat up, scratching it between the ears with a quickly growing grin.
Okay. So he liked cats. He realized the irony of the situation. He liked cats - he'd never wanted to become one.
"Hey there." Petting the cat was immediately soothing - despite having his own set of ears and tail, it wasn't quite the same. For the moment, he could push aside his embarrassment of having a tattoo branded upon him, of messing up the first time he should've killed someone. Of getting injured, and electrocuted, the moment he'd stepped out the door of his home.
Of getting kissed.
His thoughts stuttered at that, and he quickly shook his head uneasily, just as gently setting the cat back down on its feet and standing up more steadily than when he'd first sat down. He had to stop hiding, stop running away.
It was cowardly, a thought echoed by his disdainful god. Something that didn't fit the normally straightforward and steadfast teen.
Next time, he wasn't going to run away, no matter how overwhelming his thoughts became. He could handle it: handle the duality of human and animal instincts, the emotions, the uncertainties.
Yeah. He had this.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 8:10 pm
Quinn, after resting for a moment, pulled out his spray cans and started to work.
Why am I doing this?
I don't know. Am I trying to lure him into a false sense of security?
I guess so.
Am I trying to give him a hint as to what I really want?
What do I really want?
I don't know.
I guess so.
I'm not any help to myself. I should just shut up.
I agree.
He sprayed on the wall, quickly. This one was not meant to be perfectly detailed, it merely showed what it was supposed to show. He would periodically switch out his colors, spraying out his picture. When he was finished, he sat back down on the ground and closed his eyes. All he needed to do was pretend to sleep for a few minutes.
In a few moments, he had truly fallen asleep. He was tired. Fighting hadn't helped much, either. He wouldn't be able to defend himself as well as he might like to.
A few inches above him, a frozen picture of Quinn and Vale kissing, much more romantically than either of the times they actually had, hovered. Quinn didn't dream much, at all.
The cat mewed at Vale again, and then walked a few yards away, stopping and waiting for the boy. It walked a few more yards, and looked at him again, mewing, as if it was asking the boy to follow it. Which it was, per Quinn's instructions.
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Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 8:31 pm
He was curious.
A cat had never done that, before. Except when it wanted food. And Vale, most obviously, did not have food. All he had was blood and burns.
So Vale was curious. And a cat. And more than willing to sacrifice one of nine lives in order to foolishly follow a kitty to where it wanted him to go. His god didn't say anything in dissent - in fact, Tezcatlipoca had stopped talking altogether after he'd run.
Why not make more stupid mistakes? So he followed the cat through the twisting alleys, own tail flicking behind him and the burn of his injuries starting to fade to a dull, constant ache that was easier to put aside. It wasn't any better, but at least it wasn't as sharp. With a frown, he rubbed ineffectively at the rainbow tattoo, knowing it wasn't going to come off. He wanted it off. Rainbow did not match the color theme he had going on.
He was feeling pretty confident in himself until he stumbled across what the cat had meant to lead him to.
He didn't have a handle on this.
Not in the slightest. He stopped short, frozen in stride and face slack in surprise.
There was Quinn. He could kill Quinn, now. The boy was sleeping.
There was a picture. With kissing. Far-too-intimate kissing. Kissing that reminded him all too strongly of that same intense sense of tooclose that made him want to reel back.
Did he know? Did he know how uncomfortable it was for him to see? And up on the wall, too - the thought of others seeing it sent a ripple of acute embarrassment through him. Why did he paint that? To embarrass him to death? To throw him off guard?
That! That! That!
He wanted to turn on his heel and run back the way he came. He wanted to finish what he started and strangle the life out of Quinn before this ever happened again. He was angry, and humiliated, and so far out of his comfort zone with no clue how to get back.
But he wasn't going to run. Not again. No matter how sick and uneasy and discomfited and terrifying facing this down made him.
Stalking up to the sleeping boy with heavy-footed stomps (to reassure himself), he drew a leg back and delivered a swift kick to the other godling's side.
"V'ake up!"
That made him feel better.
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