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 Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2016 5:49 pm
& KILL THE CARRIER
│CREATED BY LYRCA
│· The Clubbing District.
│· On the streets of a popular club-hopping street.
│· Closed thread.
│· Odin Cypress & Kid.
│· PM if you'd like to join.
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Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2016 8:14 pm
 Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Odin was going to lose his ******** head. Things were supposed to be sunshine and flowers since his release from prison. Things were supposed to be great. He wasn't supposed to be bored ever again. He had the internet now for ********. It had been awful sitting in a jail cell for six months. But it was also awful watching porn all day until it became mind numbing and then pacing around the house angrily screaming at poor Ruven, his new slave, for everything under the goddamn sun. He'd scream at the elf for not cleaning things. He'd scream at the elf for touching his things. He'd scream at the elf for moving things. He'd scream at the elf for not buying food even though Odin wouldn't give him money to get more. He'd scream at the elf for being too quiet. He'd scream at the elf for being too loud. The poor guy was never given a break. Odin wasn't sure if he felt bad for the elf or if he'd beat the s**t out of him at this rate. He just needed out. He needed to get far away. Odin didn't have much money on him though. He wouldn't even have his apartment if it weren't for Ian convincing their father to pay the rent.
Odin did have one way of getting money, though. He had kept blood based drugs hidden in his back room. The room he never allowed anyone in. The werewolf knew he needed to get rid of them quickly. Even Odin didn't have the balls to do them himself since he knew one drug test was all it took and he'd be risking ending back in prison or having to pay a ridiculous fine. He wasn't sure if Ian would even be able to stomach dealing with him if that happened. Odin didn't want to have to interact with his brother, but he did want to in the future. When he fixed himself up.
That was how Odin ended up walking down a shiny street sidewalk, puddles of water reflecting off the city lights from the recent rainfall. There was a cool mist as the smell after rain stained the thick air. You don't belong here. You don't belong here. You don't belong.
Then Odin's nose was lifted. His eyes alert. His whole body shifted as he turned. What was that smell? Why did he care? Odin's eyes scanned along the cracked sidewalk as they quickly landed on his mark. Some kid. Literally. He stood up immediately walking behind a good distance as he tried to figure out why he cared. Odin couldn't tell the race. He didn't know why the smell was important to him. When Odin finally darted ahead and placed a hand on the shoulder turning the small male towards him, something in his tightened so hard. "Tch." Escaped Odin's lips almost immediately. "I remember that face." Even if Kid didn't remember Odin. They never spoke, did they? But he knew. This guy was some huge figure in the drug world. Odin knew. It must've been years ago when Odin's eyes began to water up at the harsh beautiful scent. This kid was some big deal. And now Odin had him alone. The werewolf glanced up at an alleyway feeling a tension in the back of his throat. He could rip the kid back there with him and search him for drugs and see if he had anything that wouldn't last in Odin's system for too long. Hell, at this point he'd practically memorized all the drugs he was allowed to do and not allowed to do.
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Posted: Thu Jul 28, 2016 9:59 pm
Sometimes he liked to pretend he knew what was beyond the windows in the apartment buildings above the clubs of the city.
He would pretend he had friends just behind the glass, probably too busy playing video games or doing homework to come outside and chat with him. He'd pretend to be irritated at their parents for making them stay in while he kicked tiny stones along the sidewalk. Sometimes he would step out in the street without looking to try and kick random objects into the sewers, but he would pretend he was a soccer star kicking a ball into the net. Beyond the highest window on what Kid deemed to be the prettiest club downtown, he liked to imagine his mother was sitting in there, waiting for him to get back. Maybe she'd be furious at him for being late and she'd yell at him, but then they'd cuddle later on and everything would be fine.
Kid was very good at pretend.
He was so good at it that he didn't really notice it when someone else took an interest in him. It was a simple life of simple pleasures: Kid was allowed to go out and roam as long as he returned back by a certain time, and the owner of the slave shop even gave him a cheap watch so he could see what time it was without having to look for a clock or ask a stranger for the time. Honestly, this life was a good one, and Kid couldn't complain. Sure, he wasn't exactly close with anyone like he had been with his previous mistress but... he was alright, right? Right. He'd just have to wait for someone else to want him! But what if nobody wanted him with his face all marked up like this and his hair always a mess and his body not strong like a lot of people wanted for chores and yardwork?
Kid pushed those thoughts from his mind just in time to feel a hand on his shoulder, turning him around. The fingers felt longer than his own, the whole hand bigger in general. The face of the man looked angry, a little twisted, a look he'd seen before. He could recognize the look of someone who was wanting drugs after so many years of being a forced drug mule. His blue eyes went wide at the man's face, before his brow furrowed in confusion at his statement. "I don't know you," he countered, every muscle in his body tensing up. Stranger danger. Stranger danger. He could end up dead in a ditch.
Before he could even think better of it, Kid was pretending to reach for a gun or a knife that supposedly could be tucked away behind his back in the waist of his pants. He'd seen lots of thugs and gangsters keep their weapons there, and maybe it would be enough to scare this guy off. Except it'd be pretty obvious after a few seconds that he didn't really have anything. "I have a gun!" he told the man anyway. Why he said it, he didn't know. It just seemed like the right thing to do in the moment.
It's like they say, hindsight is 20/20.
WHERE · On the streets. ___ WITH · Some weirdo druggie. ___ FEELING · Petrified.
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Posted: Sun Jul 31, 2016 3:20 am
”I don’t know you,” The young male quickly shot the words out as his body went tense, causing Odin to flinch when Kid’s whole body contracted and tensed. Then a hand found it’s way into his pocket with a single threat, "I have a gun!" And Odin went off. The second he heard the word gun he jolted forwards to defend himself. He was not getting shot today. Everyone knew if you had someone with a gun it was useless at close range as long as you kept their arm pointed away.
Unfortunately for Kid, Odin had just spent the past six months surrounded by violent criminals and testosterone filled prison blocks where threats were taken seriously. Nobody in prison bluffed. If someone said they were going to hurt you, then you needed to act immediately or you could end up hospitalized. It was even more complicated if you went to get medical attention since they made you file an official report. It wasn’t uncommon to see people walking around with black eyes and bloody faces who didn’t want to be labeled the prison snitch.
That’s why Odin’s foot shot out stabbing into Kid’s kneecap. In the flash of an eye Odin was knocking the boy off balance and smashing him against the pavement. He grabbed Kid’s hand that had been reaching for the gun and slammed it against the hard surface. CRACK. The sound echoed through Odin’s ears sending a spike of pleasure as he dominated over his prey. Injuring the poor human without even meaning to cause that type of damage. The werewolf slammed one of his hands against Kid’s throat, pinning him to the ground as he quickly got atop the boy, straddling his waist to weight him down. It was to prevent the human from being able to escape.
CRACK. THUMP. POW.
Odin’s free hand wrapped into a fist as he slammed it against Kid’s face. His shoulder. His stomach. His chest. It wasn’t fair. The werewolf was ten years older. He was powerful. Kid was so tiny. So weak. Probably hadn’t even finished puberty yet. Odin roughly began to grope the teenager. His hands feeling every nook and cranky as he searched for the gun. His hands slipping in and out of Kid’s clothing as he tried to find just where the weapon was.
”I’ll ********’ strip you naked if I have to. Where is it?” Odin asked angrily as he gave a rough tug at Kid’s pants to let the boy know he wasn’t bluffing. He’d done worse s**t than this to people at prison.
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Posted: Thu Aug 04, 2016 12:23 am
Kid never regretted anything so quickly in his entire life. The second he saw the flash in this guy's eyes, he knew it wasn't going to be good. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time to say he had a gun! He thought the guy would just leave him alone! Why would he shoot him if he hadn't done anything? And yet, the man--who was clearly much bigger and stronger than Kid--charged him instead. He felt immediate pain in his knee, causing him to collapse to the pavement unexpectedly. A gasp parted his lips. Everything was a blur.
Suddenly, he felt his arm that had been reaching behind him wrenched up and slammed onto the ground with a sickening crack. He instantly felt pain radiate through his arm, though the adrenaline that coursed through his body began to help, too. As a hand closed around his throat and the man climbed on top of him, Kid tried to look around for someone to help him. Unfortunately he couldn't really turn his head, and he was soon distracted by another fist slamming into him over and over and over again. He was seeing spots, trying to keep his eyes open. Kid felt blood trickle down from his nose, felt bruises forming. His arm hurt immensely whenever he tried to move it from where it'd been slammed down on the pavement, and he couldn't even bend his wrist.
He was almost too disoriented to even notice as the man began groping at him, but when unfamiliar fingers slipped under his shirt, he was jolted, in a sense. "St-stop! Please!" Kid protested, but the rough handling and groping didn't even slow down a little bit, even after he gave a pathetic whimper. What was he doing? Why was this happening? He yelped when the man lifted him off the ground only to slam his head back into the pavement. There was a warm sensation he was almost sure was blood leaking through his hair, and his vision blacked out for a few seconds.
When he could see again, all he saw was the angry man above him. Kid heard him speaking as he began to tug his pants down, but it took him a few seconds to register what he meant. Was he talking about the imaginary gun? 'Of course he is, you idiot. Let him know you don't have it so he'll go away.' Kid tried to clear his throat but it came out more as a sob as hot tears stung at his eyes. "I-I-I... I don't have it. With me. I must've... I must've forgot it." He hoped the lie was convincing enough. If not he'd have to try something else, because right now he was completely at the mercy of this stranger who'd stopped him for no apparent reason and just started whaling on him.
WHERE · On the streets. ___ WITH · A dangerous man. ___ FEELING · Petrified.
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Posted: Sun Aug 07, 2016 2:47 am
Odin was battering the male. Breaking probation. His monster looming over his shoulder. We want to kill him. Do it. Nobody will catch you. His animalistic tendencies didn’t need an excuse, but the humane section of his brain sure as hell did. It’s in self defense. He just threatened you with a gun. Guns were a big deal. It was life or death for Odin. He picked life. That left death for Kid. All he’d need to do was snap the boy’s neck or… Anything. Odin didn’t know what he’d need to do. He had never snapped someone’s neck before.
”St-stop! Please!”
Ignored. As though Odin couldn’t even hear it in the first place as he continued on with his search angrily feeling through Kid’s body. ”... I don’t have it. With me. I must’ve… I must’ve forgot it.” Said the scared boy. Odin tightly ran his hand along Kid’s waistline. He tried to feel for anything sharp or metal. Anything that could be used as weaponry. He had nothing. The kid had nothing but a ******** up face with marks and blood. He had nothing but a scrawny body and now because of Odin, fresh new wounds.
The werewolf slowly leaned back before swinging a leg over Kid and sitting next to the boy. A moment of silence. It hit Odin hard when he felt round the boy’s waist. The waist was a delicate location in prison. It was always the start of everything between Julian and Odin. Reaching for the space between his pants and shirt. Here the werewolf was feeling horny and violent and livid with the human who’d done nothing wrong. Odin was a ******** mess. A deep breath escaped his lungs. Something that Odin always took note of since one of the last physical conflicts he’d been involved in. He gently reached up carefully touching his neck.
His eyes averted back to Kid, slowly, Odin moved forwards and stuck two fingers inside of Kid’s mouth. He slowly spread his fingers forcing the boy’s mouth open. Odin glanced inside staring at the boy’s face, which probably made him look like some sort of lunatic. But it made Odin feel better. He got to his feet and reached out grabbing hold of Kid. He began to pull on the boy’s sweatshirt.
”Get up.” Odin demanded.
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Posted: Sun Aug 07, 2016 6:03 pm
Just as he'd expected, his plea for the man to stop battering him went unanswered in any way, shape, or form. He only continued to pound on him, demanding to know where the gun was. What if he hadn't said he had a gun? Would he have gotten to walk away from this whole ordeal without a scratch? Why did his mouth seem to always work faster than his brain? The man aggressively continued to search him, but as Kid felt a hand along the rim of his pants, he couldn't help but automatically feel a little hot and bothered and a little violated. As far as he was concerned, that was a personal area, but this man touched it with no regard for that. Kid told himself the man was just looking for weapons, for the gun, or maybe for drugs like he'd thought earlier, and that's what the action felt like. But his skin was just so sensitive there, and it made his cheeks flush a little, even if they were already a bit red from being flustered.
Finally, it looked like he said something right, and the larger man sat back slowly before finally getting off from on top of him. His chest and stomach heaved up and down with breaths as Kid lay still, not moving quite yet. Part of him wasn't sure if this was over yet. After all, the man was just... sitting there. Looking at him. What did he want? Kid panted with his mouth slightly open. Another part of his brain told him to run, but when he tried to move his right arm and pain shot through his entire body, he gave up on that idea. He was sure he must be bruised all over, and embarrassing tear streaks ran down his cheeks. Striking blue eyes remained fixed on the werewolf hovering over him, even as he felt blood still trickling from his nose and the back of his head. He was definitely going to be sore tomorrow.
When the man's hand moved to touch his neck, Kid flinched. When he realized the hand wasn't coming for him, it at least made him feel a little better. But not much, especially because soon after, a hand did come for him. Two fingers slid into his mouth, and Kid looked up at his assailant wide-eyed, unsure of what was happening now? The guy was crazy; he had to be. After a few seconds of examining Kid's mouth, he moved to stand, and Kid thought the man was finally going to leave him alone. He could limp back to the slave shop on his own and get treatment for his wounds. But no such luck. The man tugged on his sweatshirt and basically pulled him off the ground one-handedly with little effort. Kid wiped a hand and forearm (the one he could actually move without a great degree of pain) across his nose, leaving his sleeve smeared with blood. "What do you want from me?" he asked the man, a mixture of fear and irritation in his tone.
WHERE · On the streets. ___ WITH · A dangerous man. ___ FEELING · Wary.
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Posted: Sun Aug 07, 2016 7:33 pm
Odin didn’t have plans on ever going back to prison again. He’d made so many enemies in there that he was sure he would never make it out alive. That’s why he just pictured those helpless teal eyes standing in front of a police officer. That’s the man who did this to me. He’d say as he stretched a finger out towards Odin putting the blame on the werewolf. Nobody would doubt him. They’d look into Odin’s records to see he was a terrible person who already served months of his life in prison. That’s why he couldn’t let this boy just walk off after he’d completely battered him to a pulp. It was Odin’s ******** up form of responsibility for being a degenerate brute who couldn’t even ******** keep his composure for two ******** seconds. ******** male glared at Kid and saw the boy’s flustered face. It was flushed red and that was without the extra blood painted along his injuries. As Odin forced the boy up, he was getting blood all over his sleeve. ******** great. Now Odin would have to give the idiot a change of clothes too. Couldn’t send him off all bloodied like that. ”What do you want from me?” The boy asked after Odin told him to get up. The werewolf had half a mind to give a cheeky response back. To get up. He could have said. Clearly the boy had to have figured out Odin would be telling him exactly what he wanted, didn’t he? Odin turned his head as a finger was brought to his lips. Gently, he bit down on his nail a couple times as he tried to plan out how to transport the bloodied mess with him. What would look the least like kidnapping? What would make people look away from the two?
The werewolf glanced down at his T-shirt. It was a warm summer night. He hadn’t brought any sweatshirt with him since Odin knew he sweated like a ******** faucet when he was out and about and it wasn’t chilly. The boy, though, he did wear one. At least he’d be able to hide the wounds. The human was lucky it hadn’t been reversed. The awkwardly quiet werewolf would’ve given off pretty rape-ish vibes had he been the one unzipping a sweatshirt. Instead, he placed his hands out zipping the two sides of Kid’s sweatshirt together and nodded towards his own shoulder. ”Piggyback ride.” said the strawberry blond as he gave Kid the only explanation he needed. That was what Odin wanted. For the boy to dig his face into Odin’s shoulder and act like he was sleeping so he could freely travel around the city without drawing attention to himself.
The werewolf knew he couldn’t trust the victim. He’d have to cut through alleyways when he could. He’d have to get on quiet compartments of the subway. He’d have to stay away from cops. It would only take one yelp for the boy to alert people that something was wrong. Odin spun around displaying his back to the younger male. ”Get on.” He ordered. This was all embarrassing for him. Beating the s**t out of some Kid who didn't have anything on him. Odin seriously ******** up. He needed to act like it wasn't that big a deal or he might spook the boy.
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Posted: Mon Aug 08, 2016 11:10 am
Kid knew if he went back to the shop like this, he was going to get poked and prodded and questioned about what happened. They would have to legally file a report; the shop owner couldn't choose not to. He wasn't just a person who got beat up who could choose to press charges or not, he was a damaged piece of property, broken merchandise that someone had to pay for. He wondered idly if the man would try to get out of paying compensation in the form of his medical bills. It certainly seemed like he was already trying to cover things up with how he was acting. Wait, the guy didn't even know he was a slave, did he? How could he know? He apparently thought he was something, or he wouldn't have attacked him, right?
Well, if Kid ended up having to lie and make up some story about what happened to him, at least it wouldn't be difficult. He was rather good at lying, and this wouldn't be the first time he'd done it. Sometimes when the drug dealers got a hold of him they didn't exactly send him back to his mistress as ship-shape as the way they found him. Especially that really impatient guy that one time...
Kid watched the man think, his head swimming from being banged against the pavement. He could still feel a small bit of blood in his hair on the back of his head. He reached out with his good arm to steady himself on the brick wall of the building beside them to keep himself from collapsing again, brow furrowing when the man silently reached out to zip up his hoodie. Some of the blood and forming bruises were covered up that way, at least, though he still had a smear of blood across his face from his nosebleed. Kid managed to reach up and pull his hood over his face to hide the rest of his injuries as best he could. He understood why the man wouldn't want to be stopped while transporting him somewhere.
Honestly, he probably should have said no when the man offered him a piggyback ride. He should have tried to leave, but somehow he just didn't think he was going to be allowed to do that, and it's not like he could outrun the man in this state. He could call for help, but nobody seemed to be right in the vicinity. So warily, Kid moved to follow his instructions and get on his back, reaching up around his neck with both arms.
Suddenly, as he put pressure on his right forearm, he whimpered and let it drop to his side, hanging on only with his left arm. "My arm..." he muttered. It felt like it was on fire, and Kid pressed his slightly teary, snotty face into the man's shoulder to try and ease some of the pain as the adrenaline wore off. His bad arm hung limply at his side. Even moving it--especially trying to bend his wrist--hurt terribly. "Are you taking me home?"
WHERE · On the streets. ___ WITH · A dangerous man. ___ FEELING · Wary.
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Posted: Tue Aug 09, 2016 8:13 am
Idiot. Odin thought to himself as he realized he’d smashed the kid’s head. Small bits of blood found their way from the boy’s hair and painted his pale skin. Did he have a concussion? Would he be alright? You were supposed to make sure people with head injuries didn’t fall asleep weren’t you? The boy certainly seemed out of it. He hardly spoke and wasn’t screaming for help from people down the street. Odin supposed he was lucky that it was the case. It was a ******** up thing to be grateful for. This whole night was so ******** up.
When Odin spun around and told the boy to get on his back, he complied without struggling. Odin tucked his hands underneath the boy’s knees and pulled the younger male’s body against him. Odin used to drag Ian, his younger brother, to parties with him. One night in particular he kept picking fun at the other male for not being able to keep up. So Ian kept chugging more and more alcohol to try and look cool in front of Odin’s friends. It was later in the night that Ian was locked in a bathroom puking his brains out. After he passed out Odin needed to carry his little brother all the way home. Ian wouldn’t be able to remember it since he was blacked out, but Odin did. That was a piggyback ride Odin was gonna remember for the rest of his life. It was protective. Carrying people on his back made him feel like he wanted to protect the person more than anything.
”My arm…” He said so quietly. Odin felt a deep regret hit his stomach when Kid pressed his face against Odin’s shoulder. Odin caused this. Odin was pleased when he had caused it. The werewolf was a ******** lunatic and it felt awful. You don’t treat people that way. ”Are you taking me home?” Odin was silent as he took his first few steps, quietly moving the first block. He had some cash in his pocket from the drugs he was forced to give up. Originally Odin was planning to use the money to buy drugs in smaller increments in the future when he needed them. Instant karma. He was going to be livid if it went straight to the boy’s injuries instead.
”I am.” Odin responded way too late. He turned another corner and glanced around to make sure nobody was staring at him. By home, Odin meant his. He was no doctor but he still knew there were things he could do to help. Odin cut through an alleyway as he realized that would probably help keep him out of sight and out of mind. A large breath poured out of Odin’s lungs as he hopped up, pulling Kid up a little on him. ”What’s your name?” Odin asked as he glanced out from an alleyway before moving again. He still wasn’t sure why he’d done this all to the boy. He had no idea why that scent was so mesmerizing. Filled with positive memories.
”I’m…” Sorry. Except Odin didn’t say sorry easily. ”I dunno why that happened.” He said as he casually moved down the street trying to make sure Kid’s hood hid his face. ”You’ll be alright. It's okay." Odin said as though that made everything better. Those three magic words fixing all the boy’s injuries and pain. He was still worried that the boy seemed out of it. Quiet. Maybe he was scared. Maybe he was shy. Odin didn’t know.
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Posted: Thu Aug 11, 2016 7:38 pm
Kid had learned a lot during his life as a slave. He'd learned how to keep his mouth shut when he needed to, and how to make his mistress look good, and how to make someone trust him, but one of the more unfortunate things he'd learned was that some people didn't care about slaves. His mistress had always treated him well; she always gave him throat numbing medicine before she had him swallow balloons and balloons of cocaine, and she was always quick to cuddle him and snuggle him and make him hot chocolate when he came home from an excursion. The people on the other end of these drugs deals, however, were not so kind. This man was like one of them: rash, moody, and dangerous. Kid was afraid of him, and he was hurt, and he was far away from anyone he knew for sure would help him. Usually in situations like this it was just better to go along with whatever the person said to avoid getting more hurt. So the boy was quiet, out of fear. His life had no value to this man, or at least that's what he thought.
He buried his face in the shoulder of the man who was now carrying him, one arm hung limply at his side, and pretended he was elsewhere. Someone else was carrying him. Maybe it was his mother, carrying him upstairs to his bedroom after he'd fallen asleep watching television. Parents did that, right? Free parents? Normal parents? Kid liked to think so. Even after he heard the answer to his question, the boy remained quiet and still, sniffling every once in awhile to keep snot from running onto the man's t-shirt. He probably wouldn't like that very much. He would probably hurt him again. He would just cuddle against the warmth of the man's back and pretend he was anywhere else. He was riding a dragon and it was taking him over a range of mountains. Soon they'd find a treasure, and he'd buy himself, and then he'd be free.
His daydream was interrupted when Odin pulled him up and adjusted him on his back, causing a slight gasp from Kid due to his injuries. "My name is Kid," he told the man plainly. There was never any reason to lie about that. It wasn't even his legally registered name; it was just what everyone called him. That was close enough to a name right? He turned his head slightly more toward the man's neck, seeking the comfort of a more dry spot for his face, after involuntary tears and snot had soaked the shoulder of his shirt.
The man told him everything was going to be okay, that he was going to be okay. Kid didn't understand how the man couldn't know what happened. He was the one who caused it; he was the one who grabbed Kid and turned him around and scared him and started beating him. The boy adjusted his grip with his good arm around the man's collarbone, careful not to choke his neck. He wasn't sure he believed what the man told him. What if he was just trying to make him relax so he could hurt him even more? What did he even want with him? He hadn't answered that question the first time he'd asked. "What's your name?" Kid asked him finally, quietly. "You're warm like sand on a beach. Or... at least how I'd imagine it to be." Maybe for the rest of the trip he would pretend that the man was a beach instead of someone who pounded the snot out of him.
WHERE · On the streets. ___ WITH · A dangerous man. ___ FEELING · Wary.
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Posted: Fri Aug 19, 2016 9:23 am
”My name is Kid,”
”Kid?” Odin immediately asked a puzzled look crossing his face. ”You think this is funny or some s**t?” He asked the boy. Kid wasn’t a name. Odin supposed he couldn’t blame the human for making up some random ’name’, which must’ve just been the first word to pop into the boy’s head. The werewolf thought about forcing the boy to tell him his actual name, but Odin had done enough. He didn’t wanna get too detailed about himself either. The bigger strangers they remained the better.
Odin made his way to the subway station and stepped onto a quiet looking compartment. ”What’s your name?” Odin’s head turned slightly as he glanced towards the boy leaning on his shoulder.
”My name?” Odin asked taking a moment to pause as Kid told Odin that his body heat reminded him of the beach. ”Plage.” Odin spoke the word pretty gracefully, breaking out of his usual city accent that he hid behind. Back when he was younger he had a private tutor teaching him French. Odin had been well educated, only suddenly replacing ‘have’s with ‘got’s after he began to hang out with degenerates. Being educated was seen as a bad thing in the slums. Odin didn’t want to be known as that spoiled rich kid from the upper district. ”Means beach.” He sighed as he leaned against one of the poles. ”I dunno why I remeber that one.” It’s not like Odin was anything close to fluent after forgetting about the language for nearly 13 years.
”Plage makes a better name than Kid.” He scoffed. ”Tch. Plague would even make a better name than your fake one.” With that said, it was Odin’s turn to respond. Would he regret it if he told the boy his real name? It didn’t really seem like Kid was capable of anything that would harm Odin in the long run. ”Odin.” He responded without putting much thought into it. He couldn’t see anything bad coming from his name being told. The boy was about to know where he lived anyways. His house was only two blocks from the crappy subway station covered with graffiti and trash everywhere you turned.
The door opened as Odin’s grasp tightened against Plage Kid while he used one arm to open up his front door. He had to kick against it since the damn thing jammed often in the heat when the shitty cheap wood expanded. Once it opened up Odin moved across the main room and turned around, carefully putting Kid down on the bed that was pushed off against the corner. He almost glanced over at his shoulder to see if he had any blood, drool, or snot on his shoulder but realized he didn’t want to know. Instead Odin stripped his shirt of and tossed it to the floor. Ruven would deal with the laundry later. Odin glanced around his small cramped apartment. It wasn’t as filthy as it normally was since he’d gotten Ruven, but the small place was nothing special. Odin wandered into his bathroom and grabbed a hand towel running it under some warm water. ”C’mon,” Odin said moving back towards the boy. ”Face up.” He said rubbing the cloth against the boy’s cheek. ”Where do you live?” Odin still needed to ask the boy some questions to make sure he didn’t have a concussion or anything bad.
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Posted: Sat Aug 27, 2016 10:35 am
This man wasn't the first person to ridicule his name, but Kid didn't mind all that much. It was what everyone called him anyway, so why couldn't it be his name? Besides, he didn't have a real name. His mother apparently didn't care enough to think of one couldn't decide on which one she liked best. Kid was good, though. Almost nobody messed it up. It was definitely better than plage or plague, but Kid wasn't going to say that to the man. His bad arm still hung limply at his side, but he gripped the man more tightly as they stepped onto a subway car. Where were they going? He didn't need to take the subway to get home! Wait, he never told the man where he lived? Where were they going? Kid tried to stay calm. Maybe they were going to this man's house. Maybe there would be other people there who could help him. Or maybe he would see other people along the way.
Unfortunately, he spent the rest of the journey trying not to be lulled to sleep by Odin's warmth and rhythmic pounding of feet on the pavement. He didn't really think Odin was that great of a name either, honestly. It sounded like odor, and who would want that as a name? 'Well, I suppose some odors are good odors, but most of the time people say odor when it's a bad smell.' The boy mused to himself, keeping his drooping eyelids open until he was jarred by Odin kicking on the door to what must have been his apartment. He forced himself to lift his head from Odin's shoulder and look around, but there wasn't much to look at. The place was small, with the bed even in the corner of the main room. Did he not have a bedroom? Maybe it was too small. He was too used to the slave shop with its large expanse and many rooms.
Kid took a closer look around the place when Odin set him down and went off to another room. He heard water running as he glanced about. It wasn't exactly clean, but it wasn't really dirty either. Madame made them keep the slave shop spotless; plus it gave them something to do to fill the days. Kid had tried helping in the kitchen once but that ended up being a disaster. How was he supposed to know glitter wasn't edible? He just thought it'd make the food look better! When Odin came back, Kid followed his instructions and allowed him to wipe his face, but his muscles were a little tense.
"Odin is a weird name," he told the man, as if he was answering his question. Really he just wanted to get that off his chest. He couldn't make fun of his name or say it was fake when his own name was just as strange! That was against the rules or something! "I live at the top of a very very tall skyscraper. I can see the whole city from there; it's very nice. And I live with other people. And we have glitter that we sprinkle and it makes us fly and we can fly right around the building and zip back in the windows." Of course he was lying about it all, but that was what he felt like his life should be, so why not? Odin didn't need to know anything unpleasant, like that he was a slave and lived in a slave shop. Maybe he'd tell him later. "Um, why did you take your shirt off? Are you going to punch me more? I don't have any drugs." Man, his arm was really, really, starting to hurt. Tears stung at his eyes, but he mostly ignored them.
WHERE · Odin's apartment. ___ WITH · Odin. ___ FEELING · Wary.
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