May 26th, 2014
So much had happened and even more had changed, and all in the course of a single night. How could things change so quickly and so dramatically? He still didn’t know how everything had turned out as it had, how had the original plan turned out to be a mask for the real plan? How had Bischofite let a youma convince him that a portal could be opened? All of it left him with questions. He had more questions than he had answered and he wasn’t sure he even wanted them; not now at least. It was just too much for him to handle, maybe in time he could handle finding out everything.
Another gust of breath escaped the blond as he moved through the empty house; Cadha was curled up in his room sleeping. It was too empty, too silent, and just too empty feeling. Swallowing past a lump in his throat he bit down on his bottom lip, fighting off a new round of tears, it seemed to be something he was doing far too often. It felt like Bazzite all over again but worse, deeper. If this war ever ended he was leaving this city he needed to get away in a permanent way, he couldn’t stay in a place with so many memories for him – so much loss for him. Fingers suddenly combed through his hair roughly and tugged at the locks of ashen hair. He needed to pull himself from this, he had to! He had duties and things to do and he had no one to help him out of this, he had to learn to handle his emotions on his own. He couldn’t expect for someone to be there when he wound up like this; there wouldn’t always be someone there for him.
As he moved up the stairs to the second floor, one arm wrapped loosely about his mid section, he passed what had once been Alois’ room. The other had moved out but at least his presence had still been in the house and Alois had still visited, that he could accept, but now…now it was all different. Stopping in the middle of the hall he took the necessary three steps back and came into the others room and noted that while mostly empty it wasn’t completely without items which the other had called his own. It had taken him a long time to pack up Johnathan’s things, which were still in the attic, but the need to do something – anything was so strong that he suddenly and swiftly turned on his heel and went to find a box. He had things to pack up and tomorrow he would pain the rooms walls white and dress the bed in simple white cotton. Wasn’t white a color of mourning in Asia? It was fitting then that he redo the room in white, though it was really because he couldn’t think of anything else to do with it at the moment. He wasn’t functioning enough to think beyond wanting to remove the traces of Alois from the house in a desperate act of separating from it – all of it.
A box from downstairs procured, earlier in the day an order from two weeks back had arrived, and the blond began scouring Alois’ former room as photographs were gently placed into the box, on top of clothing that he folded. The folded clothing sat on top of folded blankets and on top of the clothing, next to the photographs, was a pack of those cigarettes the other smoked and had driven him nuts with for weeks. All the butts that had been in his plant pots, Alois had certainly got on his nerves, as he was sure he’d gotten on the other’s nerves, but that had all passed at some point. The photographs weren’t looked at, they felt too private for him to look at, and were thus placed into the box facing down. This packing, little as it was, was done slowly with a certain amount of reverence even as he sought to remove the others presence as quickly as he could. The box was taken out into the hallway where a string hung from the ceiling and connected to a metal ring in the ceiling. Pulling on it, hard, a section of the ceiling came down as stairs came down and touched down on the floor gently. Up the stairs he climbed and the box was placed on the wooden attic floor next to several others, each of which bore Johnathan’s name. A look at those boxes brought an odd smile to his features before he turned and headed back down the stairs. “Bazzite and Bischofite, Johnathan and Alois…Never to meet as humans and yet human things left to rest together.” The words were whispered right before his feet touched the carpeted floor of the hallway. Turning to the stairs he had to push them back up, with a good amount of force, and shove the door back up as well so just the string hung down again. A youma and a half youma together to live in the Rift. Was Alois happy? He had gotten what he’d once wanted, hadn’t he? Shoving those thoughts away, for now, he headed back down the hall and this time turned into his own room. Cadha lifting his head as the blond came in, the little Scottish terrier seemed to know something had been bothering his master. The little dog had been trying his best to distract his master and brighten his mood, if the dogs demands to play fetch in the house were any indication of this. Right now though the little dog laid his had back down onto his pillow bed and went back to sleep, as he should.
Laying on his desk was parchment paper he’d found at a stationary store some months back, back when he’d been just starting his plotting for a tea shop that would front for energy gathering. Could he even go on and properly run this operation? Should he talk to the General Queen and back out? Could he even? Not likely. Could he pass it off to someone else? No, no that wouldn’t be right. He had to go through with it, he had obligations.” Drawing a deep breath he let it out slowly as fingers drifted down pale skin as finger tips gently brushed the ink which marred otherwise perfectly fair skin. Noblesse oblige That’s right he had an obligation and he couldn’t forget it, not when it decorated his skin. A constant reminder that as a General he had obligations, as someone who held themselves as highly as he held himself, he had things he had to do no matter what. This was simply one of them and he had to do his best.
Approaching his desk slowly the papers, thick and of high quality, were looked over as slate eyes skimmed the words inked across the parchments surface. He’d already even written everything down, he’d done that the night he’d gotten the paper. Once everything for that day had been done he’d sat down and had written the message on so many sheets of parchment he’d worn his hand out. He hadn’t done anything with them though, not yet, ad things had come up. From inspectors to permit people he’d been delayed so much and all the while the parchment sheets had sat unposted on his desk. He needed to post them, tonight, so he could get things going. He couldn’t dally any longer, he wouldn’t allow himself to, he needed to do this for the Negaverse. He had to prove himself and put himself to good use.
Fingers traced over the script writing, slightly slanted in nature, as he read over the words in his head. Repeating them to himself as he worked himself up into doing this, into posting them, into opening the shop, into doing all of these things which would come with it.
Collecting the sheets of parchment he arranged them neatly and turned them toward his door and looked out into the hall for a single, solitary, moment of silence. “I can do this.” He had to gather himself, every ounce of strength he had, and make this work. A firm nod from his head as he held the papers to his chest gently, so as not to ruin them. “I will succeed; I will not allow myself to fail.” He stated this to no one but himself but it needed to be said aloud.
Now to go and post them for others to hopefully see and take interest in, but would they? Would anyone take interest in this plot after the botched one? Would people trust him after this? He had blindly followed Bischofite, protected him would anyone hold it against him? No, no they would join him and work toward gathering more energy for the Negaverse. They would, he had to be sure and confident of this. He couldn’t allow himself to doubt anything. Even if it was hard, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t.
Down the hall and downstairs Alexxandre went about pulling on his sneakers and grabbing his house keys, glad he hadn’t pulled on bed clothing already. He was still in jeans and polo shirt, what he’d changed into after work, something he normally would have changed out of given how late into the evening it was. Grabbing his house keys from the little table next to the door he headed out and locked the door behind himself. Taking the three steps down onto the sidewalk he headed down the road, parchment papers still held to his chest, as he headed to the alleyway he normally used to power up in.
Once safe and secure, and making sure no one else was in his alleyway, he powered up and teleported away. He had advertising to do and workers to find. He had to do this, he could do this.
Word count: 1,667
