|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Dangerous Conversationalist
|
 Posted: Tue Feb 16, 2010 11:37 am
Who: Basil, Mickey, Ethan, Vyn, (Genie?)
Where:Ethan's penthouse, Gambino
When: Early Afternoon
The biggest job of the year, without a doubt, and Mickey couldn't be more smug about it. The anticipation of having some extra money to play with was only enhanced further by the knowledge that he had edged out several other competing workmen for the job on the sheer merit of good references.
Today, he was making the trip to Gambino after examining the damage, writing up an estimate, and ordering supplies. All relatively easy tasks, but on the day of actual construction, Genevieve had become burdened with an impromptu appointment in response to shady business practices in the workplace. Big surprise. Apparently the mysterious cash register raidings were piling up and became significant enough for concern, on top of the accusations of falsified product-safety tests for game machines and certain toys given out in the ticket exchange. Because senior management couldn't be arsed to send any of the higher-ups to a worthless and unnecessary ethics seminar, it was easy enough to force a mandatory session onto the unwilling underlings. The seminar was deemed a must on pain of firing, which meant that Genie had to grin and bear it, and foist the task upon him of watching Basil at his job-site until she could retrieve him.
Mickey kept his wits about him the entire drive. After all, Basil was the closest thing to a nephew he ever really had, and the closest thing Genie might ever have to a son. When the bricks were stacked that way, he had to be extra sure that no harm should befall him, nor that he should muck up this job. Mickey glanced from the corner of his eye at his passenger, sitting quietly as could be in the duct-taped corduroy car-seat. His silence was unsettling... He had only recently taken on the job of looking after Basil under Genevieve's strict regulations. She had told him what to expect of him knowledge-wise, and Basil exceeded it. She had given him a list of phrases that Basil knew so far, and what they meant, and he had remained silent as the grave the entire day. She told him some of his daily habits and idiosyncrasies, and Basil had not only done them out of order, but added several new ones to the list. He was completely, and utterly an impossible and unpredictable force of nature, and there was simply no way in Hell to prepare for him. But by all rights, it wasn't as if the boy was going out of his way to be difficult. He was just... a tad different. In... a way that was high-maintenance. He hoped and prayed that the spoons he had given the boy would keep his attentions, and out of the way.
Technically, he was not allowed to permit Basil the spoons on Genie's behest. She felt it would encourage him to yank out the silverware every other day, and potentially hurt himself on the cutlery. But if a few soup-spoons were all that it took to keep Basil content, it was more than worth breaking a rule. For now he was ignoring them, but he could distinctly see the Cobra's thumb caressing the rim of one of the spoon's egg-like grooves as they drove.
Pulling off the exit and into the impossibly uppercrust housing district of Gambino, Mickey clumsily consulted the notepad holding the street address. Once safely out on the sidewalk, Mickey craned his neck to try and get a look at the penthouse he would be working on. In a way, he couldn't help but feel dreadfully out of place in his stiff overalls and flannel shirt... It screamed to the public the absolute severity of his misplacement. Taking a moment to get some fresh air and stretch his legs, a violent honking diverted his attention. Apparently in the few seconds that he had gone unsupervised, Basil had deemed it worthwhile to sneak out of the passenger's side, and press his face against the windows of other cars to scare the bejeezus out of their occupants. Next time, Mickey would HAVE to remember to put on the child-safety locks...
After some difficulty in loading up all the supplies and equipment into the lift (Requiring two trips with a difficult Basil, who had not yet grown accustomed to the bizarre feelings of being inside an elevator), it was something of a relief to finally be able to ring the buzzer of the front door, and request entry.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Feb 17, 2010 7:35 am
The penthouse had been repaired roughly as quickly as possible after the tremendous events that had caused Vyn to tear the main living quarters to shreds. New furniture had been bought almost instantly to replace the thorn punctured pieces, quick fixes has been made to make the surface of the place appear as before... A slap of plaster here, a dab of paint there and the place had almost looked as good as new.. However, a few months down the line and Ethan as beginning to notice the faults. That patch of wall didn’t quite match the original colour. The cracks in the windows repaired by quick setting resin were ugly blemishes that couldn’t be hidden... The slight bulge where a portion of destroyed wall had been re-plastered was an uncomfortable reminder of what had happened... For these reasons and more he had invested time and money into arranging for a handyman of high quality to repair his home till it looked the same as, if not better tan, before.
As the buzzer announced that the craftsman had arrived he closed the paper he had been flicking through. Putting it down on the glass coffee table he rose from the black leather sofa and moved to the door. Opening it he was surprised to see that there were two figures rather than the one he had expected standing in the doorway. “Good afternoon, Ethan Blake.. A pleasure,” he offered a hand to the older of the two whilst his eyes trailed over the pair.. One was garbed in work clothes, smudged with paint and grime as was to be expected. The other was more out of place considering Ethan was expecting them to work on his home. A hoodie with a snakeskin print worn with hood up, and what appeared to be a body warmer... He blinked, finding that as his examining grey gaze moved downwards he could find nothing more than a familiar swirling ribbon.
“You have.. a raevan?” Ethan’s expression turned from the evaluative studying look to one of genuine surprise and pleasure. It seemed as though, even a year after adopting Vyn, he was still being presented by new faces belonging to Dr.Kyou’s creations at the most unexpected of times. Assuming that the frei wasn’t going to aid his father in the work and was just being brought along as a kind of babysitting routine (back when he had first adopted Vyn she had barely left his side) Ethan considered suggesting that he could meet Vyn. However, before leaping in with the suggestions he thought it best to allow the other man to respond – after all, the frei could play an integral part in the rugged man’s work.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Dangerous Conversationalist
|
Posted: Mon Mar 08, 2010 5:26 pm
If there was one thing that Mickey always found admirable in his regard, it was his extraordinary averageness. His relate-ability, his forgettable face and wholesome, unimposing nature. It had been these traits and more that made for great business, and great escapes. An average, middle-class man doing what he had to to make ends meet.
Basil on the other hand... was far less forgettable. Floating patiently, spoons in hand, and grinning as if it were his last day alive, he seemed to be a little bit out of it this evening, as normally his eyes would be glowing in his excitement to be someplace new, but so far, he was doing nothing that would implicate a sinister intent... nor the possession of an alpha brain wave. But for the former Mickey could be thankful. Tipping an imaginary cap, he proceeded to firmly shake the client's hand, "Micheal Witham, sir. If'n you'll just give me a moment I'll start on bringing in my supplies so we can get this started..." As to be expected, the man was paying considerable attention to the being behind his shoulder and less on the business at hand. He put on his friendliest face to hopefully offset the lack of professionalism evident in bringing the boy along to such a high-paying job, rubbing the back of his neck absently, "Oh? Me? No, no, sir, he's actually my sister's boy... She had some eh, business to take care of and I was the only one t'watch him. I hope it ain't a problem, really, he's a good kid. I give you my word he won't cause a ruckus."
As if to support the sincerity of the statement, Mickey set his toolbox down momentarily to urge the Frei a few paces forward, stooping slightly so as to be able to peer beneath his hood, "Y'wanna say hello t'the nice man, Basil?" The cobra was silentious, unfeeling. Once Mickey shook his shoulder a bit, he seemed to come around, lifting his chin to stare into the core of the stranger's eyes with slivers... Icy, black shards.
"My name is Basil."
Nothing more, nothing less, and with frightening purpose before his attention turned to the silverware in his fitful hands. Mickey swallowed hard, patting his shoulder with a nervous chuckle, "We're uh... still working a bit on his vocabulary. That's as good a greeting as anyone can get out of 'im... So, um, you wanna show me to the damage?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Mar 13, 2010 10:48 am
With a sweep of his hand Ethan banished the man’s promises that the frei wouldn’t make a mess or disturb the work that was going to be done. Ethan was just pleased to see the frei – each of the Doctor’s creations proved to be a pleasant creature in some way or another and he didn’t mind meeting this interesting fellow in the slightest. However, as the grey eyes fell blankly upon him his own displayed a little concern and confusion. The frei’s voice was hollow, almost without understanding of the conversation that was meant to be going on between them. Did he really mean to introduce himself or was it like he was following a pre-set routine, action without thoughts? Banishing the thought the businessman just gave the youth a smile in return; “Ethan Blake, nice to meet you Basil.”
Sidestepping so that the pair could enter Ethan moved into his home, allowing the man to follow and do as he had suggested – assess the damage. As the older man read the craftsman to the first major area needing work he gave a slight nod to the boy trailing in their wake. “Is he young then? Still learning to speak?” He had never met a raevan that young. He remembered when Xiu had been fairly fresh from birth but even then the oriental boy had been adept with using words to express what he wanted to say. For that reason newborn raevans in his head always appeared as semi-intelligent, everything was there but they were just lacking a pinch of common sense. Judging by the boy today it seemed that might not be the case.
Remaining on task despite the conversation he wanted to create he put a hand on a white painted wall. Running it along the smooth surface he fixed his eyes with those of the builders. “This area here...” He ran his hand along a portion about a metre long, stressing the section that he meant. “It was pretty badly damaged and had to be re-plastered. The person who did it did a fine cover-up job but it’s not quite the same level as the original wall, a little lumpy, and the paint doesn’t match exactly. You can correct that, yes?” He probably came across a little strict what with his direct gaze and no nonsense critique of the previous craftsman’s work; however he was stubborn when it came to details and he wanted his home to be perfect – hence the reason he would spend as much as required to get it to that standard.
Whilst he let the worker look over the section he had indicated to the businessman regarded Basil. Perhaps, to keep the child out of his father way, it would be best if Vyn took over the role of caretaker... Just for a little while. “Basil. Would you like to meet my daughter, her name is Vyn.” Again he smiled encouragingly despite the blank aura that the snake-hooded boy excreted... He still seemed to be intent of fiddling with his spoons....
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Dangerous Conversationalist
|
Posted: Sat Mar 13, 2010 3:21 pm
Mickey was both tense and relieved to have Basil be met with such geniality and dismissal. Blameless as a baby, it seemed. It was best most times to regard the boy as one would cattle in a field... One knew that they were alive, and that they were sentient creatures, but in passing say, in a speeding car, they were contemporaneously landscape at best. As Mickey let himself inside, slipping in behind the man to prop open the door so he could begin heaving in his equipment, Basil stood stock still. For now his hands were much more active. If not habitually swiping the edge of his hood, he was clanging the spoons together, rubbing the edges, wiggling them about as if astounded by their peculiar shape and shining surface. In his mind, he liked to pretend they were little aircraft carriers, or some sort of strange, long-necked creature only he could conjure. He bit his lower lip, wholly riveted. Once Mickey had dragged the last of it in, he was sure to urge Basil forward at the shoulder, mindful enough to steer him past the furniture to place him elsewhere in the room as if he too had as helpless a role in his transportation as a toolbox.
He spoke as he moved, "Ain't sure how old he is but I know it can't be more'n a few months... Can't really speak fer 'im on how well he talks. Mind ya' he knows the words fer things, and he tries t'pay good attention, but you could say he's a lil'... slow on the draw sometimes." He was sure to nod somewhat in the obligatory sense in which someone would to indicate a good-natured honesty. Within moments of leaving Basil unattended he was examining the far wall, taking a knee and listening intently while his "foreman" pointed out the various nicks and damages. Some might say that the man was being picky. A classic perfectionist-- the bane of any craftsman. But Mickey was an ace in his trade, an oddity. To him, the imperfections were ten times as obvious, and agreeably, in desperate need of fixing to complete the atmosphere of such a regal home. With a hearty laugh, he popped his knuckles one by one, "Is that all? No worries. I can have this wall looking like new again before you'd know it." When invigorated by his can-do attitude, Mickey preferably tuned himself out...
Basil was still rather engrossed in his own business, proceeding his antics with the silverware in an almost braindead fashion. As the man approached him, slow and amiable, he grunted what could perceivably be a 'yes', though Mickey glanced across his shoulder in terror. By 'daughter', Mickey couldn't help but envision a school girl... A young, blonde baby with pigtails and a teddy bear; a classic archetype. Like Cindy Lou Who pleading to the Grinch for his misdemeanors. After the ordeal with the lizards, Mickey couldn't even begin to imagine what fresh Hell could be unleashed by leaving daft, unpredictable Basil with a small child. Little did he know however that he would be pleasantly surprised.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue May 04, 2010 2:33 pm
The craftsman that Ethan was employing held very little interest to Vyn... After all, it was just someone in the penthouse who was tidying up the damage that she had done whilst infected. She would treat it like any other visitor whom Ethan employed, like the maid. If they encountered each other nothing more than a polite acknowledgement would be needed. In addition to not really needing to talk to the decorator she also didn’t really fancy watching someone fix all the damage that she had actually caused. For that reason she was more than content to sit with Thorn on her bed and pour over her Japanese textbooks, touching up on the vocabulary that she would need for her trip.
However, Thorn was not happy to be sat in the room whilst new people (potential friends) entered his home and thus when he heard the scraping of feet and the exchange of voices in the hallway he moved swiftly from his comfortable position at the rose’s side to pawing at the door – a whimper in his voice. A little irked that her studying had been disrupted, but not wanting her pet to be distressed, she rose and drifted to the door.
Opening it and exiting into the hallway she heard briefly the mention of her name as the black scruff scampered off to dance around the booted feet of Mickey. Curious she followed the dog’s lead and moved to see her father next to not one, but two figures; one of whom was floating. This came as a surprise to the shadow. Vyn had not been forewarned of a raevan visiting. If she had been she might have made an effort to greet her fellow frei. However, it was too late for thinking about such things, the boy was here now and Ethan had just mentioned her to him.
“Hello.” She announced her presence to the trio, folding her hands neatly before her and casting an observatory gaze over the raevan and his guardian. The boy was interesting to look at. His wings were jagged and looked sharp to the touch yet his eyes were a dull grey and lacking something... There was no spark there. Normally raevans greeted each other with some sort of enthusiasm yet he appeared a little slow on the uptake. The human meanwhile looked pleasant enough. Thorn was still at his ankles, his squat face staring up and his stubby tail wagging. It was odd that the dog had gone straight to the man though.. Usually the pug was like a homing missile on new raevan’s ribbons...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Dangerous Conversationalist
|
Posted: Mon May 10, 2010 2:23 am
Mickey would remain stationed by the wall upon his knee, keeping a vigilant eye at his rear with the cobra aligned therein like the specialized sight of a winchester rifle. His shoulders were steadily growing sterner; broad planks that spanned the width of his body at the intersection of his corded neck. His poise ensured that he could jump to someone's defense should the occasion arise, as taking into account the cobra's speed and strength, seconds would be precious in determining indescribable damage or a fleeting opportunity for escape. Though even these were not the deadliest accoutrements in the boy's arsenal, but his tenuous grasp of virtue. Who could say at any given moment when it came to those vacuous eyes with no insight or reactionary depth. Who could say, indeed.
These thoughts and more kept him bolstered on edge, even as the wall-eyed little creature began milling about his feet. His cumbersome hands stroked the animal's back, attempting to disallow it's overabundant friendliness to distract him from the peculiar being that emerged from the depths of the penthouse.
She was a verdant and appealing specimen, offering unto his charge a terse, pleasant greeting. Despite her crown of thorns and striking eyes, the girl was undeniably charming in such a way that gave Mickey a lambent sense of optimism. Her face was fresh with youth and a glowing pallor, and upon studying the lack of evident hostility in Basil to her presence, his body apprehensively relaxed. It would seem at first glance that Basil had not even registered her entrance, enticed by his instruments of boredom to the point of abject obliviousness; much the same way he had initially regarded her surrogate father. On further inspection would the truth reveal itself.
Surely while he did not acknowledge her by idle command or roving eyes, as she approached, a sensation reverberated within his wings. It began without preamble as a mild ringing sound, like the gentle jangle of a wind-chime under siege of a zephyrous autumn night, steadily growing. Clinking, clanking, a slight tinny voice amidst the fray. As if he were sensing her. Or more appropriately, his body unconsciously urging Basil to awake from his thus-far dormant and insensitive stupor. It appeared to be achieving results, the noise bringing a certain sheen to his eyes-- the first lights of cogitation and intellect. He blinked somewhat, the spoons dropping to the floor with a great, metallic "thunk" as his fingers inexplicably loosened. Mickey couldn't help but wince at the sound.
Basil's now empty hands soon found themselves clenching the borders of his hood, acknowledging the new Frei for the first time and seemingly intrigued by what he was seeing. The corners of his mouth drooped from their beguiling grin to a certain studiousness. With his poor vision, he found it in his best interest to execute a closer investigation, taking several paces towards her with determined eyes. One could impeccably imagine the tapering length of a serpent trailing behind him, it's bulk sliding against the carpeting with a distinctive sound of sleuth and stealth. He maneuvered behind her to examine her from all angles, leaning in against the skin of her bare shoulder for a curious sniff. To him she smelled as pungent as gasoline, and to his bizarre sensibilities, the fragrant aroma did not agree with him. Nose wrinkled, he proceeded to circle her several times before returning to the self-same spot he had originated. With cloudy intentions at best, he smiled widely while the heel of his left hand soothingly brushed against his jawline,
"Welcome, here." He muttered assuringly.
Clearly at some point he had become confused, assuming the girl to be a stranger in her own home. A visitor, same as himself. But on the up-scale, he clearly welcomed her company regardless.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 15, 2010 12:42 pm
On her approach something about the boy had changed and by the time that her lips had spoken her first words there was more of a gleam to those grey-ish pits: Recognition? She was glad as for the awkward moment between her arriving and speaking she had been uneasy with the quiet static frei. Unfortunately as this process of consciousness crept into play further developments managed to unsettle her again. His wings were reverberating and producing a peculiar noise. Vyn could not quite place when it was like but it as it rang in her sloped ears the hairs on her pale arms raised, as did those on her neck; An instinctive reaction reflecting the fact that something was telling her that this boy wasn’t quite right and to watch out.
Unfortunately for the rose her discomfort with the situation was only heightened as the cobra took even more interest in her. With his spoons discarded on the floor he slid forward, rune propelling him through the tense air between them. His fingers were hooked into his hood, firmly shadowing his face and giving his intense expression a menacing air. Suffice to say Vyn did not know how to react to the boy’s approach. She had never before been treated in such a way and although her instant reaction was to bulk away from his slow deliberate movements. But the alienating effect froze her, like a rabbit caught in a snake’s ensnaring stare.
As he floated behind her, her wings flicked slightly. He was invading her space and ever since her birth from the tanks that had been a major issue for her. She was really starting to not just be uncomfortable in the raevan’s company but genuinely quite scared scared. Her half-formed heart felt like it was being constricted in her chest and her hands were curled into clammy knots. Finally when he spoke a shaky expulsion of breath left her.
“Welcome...?” Her wings were raised high, stretched out behind her and nervously quivering, but she maintained a strong decorum. He had yet to be aggressive, just highly peculiar, and he seemed genuinely polite with his odd greeting; she could tolerate him a little longer – if only for her father’s sake. He had been the one to suggest that the two raevan’s mingle anyway.
Ethan had actually watched the whole occurrence with a bemused smile. Something about the boy was certainly off. He had seen human children who were similarly forward and disrespectful of space due to a lack of social understanding, could it be possible for the snake-like raevan to have autism? He couldn’t exactly ask without being rude... So he kept his mouth tightly shut and returned to the business at hand. Vyn looked uncomfortable, but she was old enough and mature enough to cope with the odd actions of the boy.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Dangerous Conversationalist
|
Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 2:26 am
Freshly stirred from his hazy reverie, Basil was quite ready to begin a thorough inspection of his new surroundings as perky as he'd been in days. Hood in hands he gave a momentary glance behind him to the attentive Mickey, his neck jolting somewhat with his exuberance as he then propelled himself forward to poke around the rooms beyond. As he did so, his shoulder rudely collided with that of the rose-woman without so much as a twinge of remorse... At present his petulance could not be helped, the clumsy Basil in need of much patience and tolerance to subsist.
Unnerved by his charge venturing out of sight, Mickey lent a woeful glance to his employer with his jaw slightly ajar as if to inquire or apologize. But thus far the man had seemed quite willing to allow things to run their course with a bracing conviction that nothing would go awry and all was quite under control. Leave the children to their unexpected "play-date" and with them, one's worries at the door. In grievous silence, Mickey then flicked the latch of his toolbox to begin construction, shooing the pup away so as to avoid it intruding in his business.
Basil meanwhile was running amok, overjoyed to be experiencing new sounds and smells and stimulation. His first stop had been the restroom, distracted momentarily from the bright, reflective tile by the soap-dish. Stranger still he had then began peering at it with a stifled urge to taste it's contents out of nothing save a gripping curiosity. (While he lacked a digestive system, Basil was rather toddler-like in that he suffered a propensity to put things in his mouth that he oughtn't... A bus-tire had been the most recent offender.) Giving it an inquisitive nudge only to send the bar slipping to the floor of the tub with a heady thump, Basil's interest in the room quickly dwindled, darting elsewhere as quick as he had come. His next stop would be the girl's room, his nose immediately wrinkling in disgust to find that it smelled very much like it's occupant, although far more diluted. This alone might have have sent him reeling back into the hall to search for his next engagement, had he not spotted the books whose pages had only moment ago kept the woman engrossed.
With his poor vision it was necessary to lean very closely to examine the peculiar text... Genevieve had shown him words. Words on note-cards and billboards. On street-signs and television adverts. But never had she shown him characters such as the one's displayed. They differed so greatly! These strokes were fluid and calligraphic, almost mesmerizing. They did not resemble the starchy curves and deliberate slashes he had become familiar with... As near as he could tell, some poor sod had either written a complete book of gibberish, or this was some elitist manner of reading. As if after one had spent years grueling over the fundamentals of language, it was possible for one to graduate to these delightful symbols and characters... Rendering someone light-years ahead in the hierarchy of sentient beings, whose knowledge of such things rendered them privileged-- yes! privileged. If the latter were the case, his blossomy sister was nothing short of a genius of epic proportion. He frowned both in longing and admiration... Very complex emotions for one as stunted as he, left struggling between his various afflictions and a passionate desire to understand. "I wish..." He murmured, his blunt fingertip worrying itself idly in his right ear.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 8:14 am
Without responding further to her presence the boy began to move off, following his own private agenda. The rose was a little disgruntled as his shoulder connected with her and he continued onwards, head craned forward as he presumably explored her home. This almost solidified the idea that he was a newborn. Any raevan with half an iota of sense would generally ask to look around, it was part of being polite – what was expected if you were guest in someone else’s house – however, he was charging ahead without a glancing word... Frowning slightly she followed but did not interrupt his exploration. Perhaps it would just be easier to keep her distance, make sure he didn’t break anything and allow him to fulfil his curiosity as part of a ‘natural’ learning curve.
First stop was the bathroom. Vyn thought this to be a curious place for the boy to investigate. Surely most households had fairly similar setups; bath, shower, toilet, basin? However, as the youth sniffed cautiously at the soap dish she assumed that it must be the trimmings that interested him. Standing at the door her dark eyes were cautious yet a slightly bemused smile did creep across her face when his inquisitive fingers fumbled with the slipper bar of soap residing in the metallic dish. When he turned to make his escape (presumably spooked by the evasive bar) she side-‘stepped’ out of his path before floating to the bath, carefully picking up the soap and returning it to its rightful place. With that done she turned and swiftly exited – eyes searching for her now runaway companion.
Obviously it was not all that difficult to work out where Basil had gone, given the fact that Vyn’s door had been closed when she had left it and was now well ajar. This irked her slightly... Although the strange young raevan quite obviously didn’t have an understanding of personal space, his invasive closeness towards her earlier had quickly established that, her room was private and shouldn’t just be walked into without a second thought!
Crossing her arms she floated in after him. Her face, which had up until now remained passive, openly showed her displeasure with the situation. However, the sight that greeted her silenced any complaint rising in her throat and made her pause for thought. The boy was examining her Japanese textbook with deep interest. His eyes, only a few minutes ago detached and without recognisable intellect, were staining over the foreign characters with intense emotions contorting his expression. When he spoke her vexed state dissipated and her folded arms softened. He wanted to understand?
“It’s... difficult to explain.” She murmured in response, trying to construct an easy way to tell the newborn about different languages. Getting a grasp of English would be his current struggle, and although Vyn knew most raevans had accelerated learning introducing the boy to a different language right now would be near impossible. “It’s the same as writing in English, but they do it like this in different parts of the world.” Even that explanation could be too complex for the frei – she had no idea just how young he was. Judging by his disjointed sentences and thoroughly odd actions gave the impression that he was fresh out of his tank. Did he even understand what the world was?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Dangerous Conversationalist
|
Posted: Sun May 23, 2010 3:17 pm
Basil was trying very hard to forge connections in his head as he loomed above the pages, laboring in vain to draw similarities between certain symbols and English letters he previously knew in order to attempt reading them as if one were the other. However his efforts only further made it glaringly obvious how far he was behind. He could make out 'H's and 'R's from the shapes illustrated, but could not prevent growing incrementally more frustrated when he was unable to make out so much as a complete sentence. His brows knitted tightly over his plaintive eyes, until the rose accompanied him to help put things in perspective. He immediately took notice of the fact that while she was otherwise very short on words upon their meeting, she could clearly speak quite well when prompted, and yet in terms of development she looked very much like himself. He had yet to realize that maturity wasn't always measured in one's face, but by one's experience. This only cemented his belief that she was quite the perceptive prodigy.
As she spoke, the cobra watched her lips with judicious attention as a means to get the complete jist of what she was trying to communicate. However, she was correct in her assumption that she was only boggling his mind further... He scratched his head; an obvious indicator. Although confused, his features did however begin to soften at her explanation and willingness to help him. She had not successfuly imparted any wisdom upon him, but he still managed to find some reassurance in the way that she spoke that he needn't feel so intimidated. That somehow, things were not as complicated as he was making them. He smiled warmly, his dark-rimmed eyes wide and grateful. It would have been a heavenly moment of clarity and kindness, if not for what followed next...
"Fft-- HCK!" A sort of hiccuping that near resembled a painful bark. He promptly clutched his throat in the width of his palm and cupped his adam's apple, as that was a very new sound. What's more, it had disrupted the flow of the noise before it, and his crucial need to repeat it in a very specific way. Oh the trials of OCDs... This visibly distressed him as he attempted to start again-- a rather clumsy endeavor as it was not common for him to acknowledge ever even making the noise to begin with. In tune with his voice, his hand began to smack the right side of his head as if to help the process along, "Fft! Fft! Fft!"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 10, 2010 11:01 am
Just as the other started to act in a more predictable manner – his confusion and what seemed to be appreciation for her soft words was rolling off him in his body language – Vyn was surprised to find him slamming his hand against his skull, a vicious mantra of guttural clicks in time to the beat of his smacks. The rose had almost changed her opinion on the peculiar newborn,, but now the same horrified feeling was back and she did not know how to deal with him. For a start she didn’t even know why he was inflicting pain on himself! Sometimes she’d seen humans knock themselves on the head to indicate they had made an error, but never this hard or this repetitively. To Vyn it just seemed as though the breath had caught momentarily in the other raevans throat and then... this...
Hands moving to her mouth, suppressing her fright the shadow tried her best to manage the frei. “Stop it!” She exclaimed, wings flaring and her rune glowing with fright. Its pulse was sporadic, matching her racing heart as the newborn continued to thump undeterred. “I don’t know your name, but you have to listen to me...” She urged, hesitantly extending a hand – unsure whether she should touch him and interrupt his madness. “Stop please.” Her hand brushed his shoulder and then, feeling brave she took the opportunity to snatch at his wrist, inhibiting his ability to smash himself.
Her body was shaking, stressed out and unsure how to proceed... But she tried her hardest to remain calm, affixing the black haired raevan with her eyes. Perhaps if she implored him, eye to eye, to stop hurting himself – punishing himself – for whatever crime or error he seemed to think he had committed. That was assuming that was the reason for his highly unusual behaviour. If this failed Vyn really had no idea what was running through the, now assaulted, brain of the other tank-born being. If any further madness occurred she would have to escape. Find Ethan and the boy’s carer and avoid spurring him into hurting either himself more... or her...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Dangerous Conversationalist
|
Posted: Sat Jun 12, 2010 2:47 am
Basil being deceptively strong for a creature of his physique, it would be difficult for the girl to hinder the assault of his arm-- ram-rod straight and driven by the inescapable fury that were his compulsions. As the rose cried out, attempting to grab at him, it was as if he were actively seeking to drown her out as his indecipherable noise-making only grew louder in time. Louder, and repetitive like machine-gun fire. "Fft! Fft! Fft!" It was perhaps the longest string of tics he had managed thus far in his meager lifetime, but once sated the cobra felt a glowing sense of relief overpower him. His once steely arm relaxed to rub the now aching site of his pounding temple. While he had performed what his obsession had commanded of him, he seethed somewhat in what sounded distinctly like a threatening hiss to temper the pain, unaware as to what had occurred only seconds ago. It was Basil's misfortune to become absent in the event of certain idiosyncrasies. Common for him to lose gaps in time; small white blips in his memory passing through like shooting stars. Leaving him to sail onward through his own life. Aware, but not aware enough to give it direction. At an average, given the days, the minutes, the hours he would lose and those he would lose in the future, Basil truly only felt as strong and as mature as half his physical age... It was frustrating at times, disappointing even, but thankfully he was still young enough to be gifted with an unmatched obliviousness and steadfastness. He could find happiness in the most curious of places, despite his urges to feel sadness. It was the most control he had ever known.
He glanced to her, his pupils changing momentarily into slits as if to focus her image. He had a reasonable difficulty in reading faces and deciphering emotions, but at present his companion for the day seemed truly and utterly aghast. Uncertain as to why (still rubbing the side of his head and giving little question to the origin of the pain that lingered there), he began to glance about the room for anything particularly frightening. As near as he could figure, given that she was staring in his general direction, he could only presume the wall behind him was the culprit. It had not given him any reason to be distrustful of it's intent, but he refused to question the judgement of perhaps the most intelligent Sister he had come across yet.
Brows furrowed and shoulders squaring into a traditional token of masculine posturing, he began to back away from said wall, an arm cast at his side as if to protect the frei behind him. A grumbling hiss issued from him in warning, nudging her somewhat towards the door with the bend of his elbow to make their casual escape. She was good to warn him of the dangers of this house. He would have to keep his wits about him...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 30, 2010 7:41 am
After a rising crescendo of his violent spitting of noise the strange boy seemed to sink into a relaxed state. His thumping arm no longer smashed into the side of his head and even as she floated there, mouth open and expression shocked, consciousness – or perhaps some shade of ‘normality’ – seemed to fade back into his eyes and Vyn felt her fluttering half formed heart slow down. Was he safe again? Or was he about to launch into another odd outburst? She didn’t know and didn’t want to assume anything because so far the black haired frei had proven himself to be completely and utterly unpredictable.
This chain of erratic actions continued as he frowned in confusion at her. He did not seem to comprehend the scared emotions that were plain to see on her face and, glancing over his shoulder, he seemed to come to some misinformed conclusion that the wall, and not him, was the culprit. The shadowy frei was immobile for a while as he drifted round and assumed a protective position infront of her. However, as her shock faded away and she gained greater control of what she could do she went once more to try and imbue some sort of sense into the cobra.
Placing a tentatively reassuring hand on his arm she tried to tell him that there was nothing to be acting in such a way towards. “I am fine...” She wanted to move forward to demonstrate how there was nothing unsafe about the room but the way he had positioned himself before her made it difficult to float around him and the nudge of his elbow made it clear that he wanted her to ‘escape’.
Frustrated above anything else at that moment Vyn did as Basil wanted her to. Drifting backwards she allowed him to shepherd her out of her room and back into the roomy corridor. When she was there she glanced in the direction of the place where the boy’s guardian would be working... Could she manage to get the boy back there? So far she hadn’t been able to sway the peculiar youth into stopping what he wanted to do... But, with a flick of her wings, she moved in that direction – hoping that he would follow and eventually she could hand him back over to his parent. He was strange enough to be scary and looking after him for the duration of the day was not an appealing prospect to the poor rose.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Dangerous Conversationalist
|
Posted: Sat Jul 03, 2010 1:55 am
Basil was now determined to shield the Rose from impending danger, and was adamant in his task. As such, he was certain to stick close to her, even as she steadily began to ferry him down the hall from whence they'd come. For the briefest of moments, the shiftless creature seemed nearly as valiant as a Roman solider, with his flinty gaze shifting from his charge to the purported offender and his jaw taking on the appearance of being chiseled and strong with the clenching of his teeth. For that flash of a moment, he could nearly pass as noble... Her plan to "strategically" maneuver him back towards the capable hands of his caretaker was quite effective, being simple in design for a simple being. When the "danger" seemed to be a comfortable distance away, Basil was visibly relaxing and took easier to following the girl as curious and aimless as a lost house-pet, chewing on the edge of his pointer finger as he did so. For the time being, he was content to obey her; but for how long?
Currently, Mickey had decided to repair the window before anything else. Considering that he would have to take out nearly every pane in the window sash, leaving a lofty drop to the street below if one was not cautious around the unguarded opening in the wall. It was best to just get it out of the way now. Having already set up a foldout-table with which to replace the panes one by one, he was held by the tedious task of rolling out glazing compound putty to line the edges of each frame with, unknowing that Basil had caught his first whiff of fresh air breezing into the house... The sounds of traffic and birds. With his back to the open square, Basil could slip by as noiselessly as a phantom without so much as a rustle of carpet, leaving his female companion behind as one more chapter in his strobe-like attention span. If not for the immediate shadow cast across the room to catch his attention, Mickey might not have noticed him practically dangling out over the street until it was much too late. Hands holstered to the interior wall and smiling in the face of danger with the sun and wind in his hair.
"WHOAH!" Turning on his heel, he swiftly grabbed the boy first by the back of his hood, and then by his wrist when it was within his grasp. Swinging him back into the house, he was an inch away from beating the frei within an inch of his life for scaring him that way, "Basil! What the--" He stopped abruptly in mid-sentence with the almost cataclysmic reminder that Basil was the sort that required a very light touch. No matter how badly he might want to yell at him. Despite his usual stupor and resistant attempts to defy conformity, he could be quite sensitive. This was evident by the widening in his eyes as Mickey had grabbed him. Slowly releasing his arm, he then patted the spot as if to soothe it, dramatically lowering the tone in his voice and leaning forward so as to look the cobra in the eyes, "Basil... Just... stay over there with her. Okay? Please? Stay there, and don't touch nothin'. Y'hear me? Go." Patting his back, he propelled him in the general direction of the rose once more, a hand motioning over his heart to feel it's rapid pounding. Perhaps he should forget the putty for now to put some newspaper over that hole...
Brooding in his way, Basil looked ruefully over his shoulder for a moment before sliding down the closest wall by his back. "Sitting" against the wall upon the floor somewhat, his fingers fumbled against each other, perhaps feeling something akin to boredom or the lament that came with committing a scold-able offense. The serpent then glanced to the rose from his seat with bright, expectant eyes as if expecting her to join him. Perhaps he was genuinely ready to settle down a bit. For now.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
