Music Prompts

[ElliBleu]

I've seen stuff like this around a few places and like the idea, so, of course, here you go, denizens of BotB~

This thread will be like the Practice & Prompts thread, but your music playlist gives you the prompt here. There's a few ways you can do it if you're interested-

- Put your playlist on random, and write a small, quick drabble for whatever song comes up within the time limit of that song. Do as many or as few as you'd like.

- Or let your computer or mp3 player or whatever dish you out a song on random and use that song as your prompt, writing a longer post just like in the other thread.

Please include the song's title and artist eitehr before or after your post, if you know it. Have fun, of course, and I look forward to seeing what you all come up with. <3

[Netreemic]

[It’s a back-story on Absalon. It’s choppy and you don’t get the whole thing (he basically joins up with Zarek’s freedom fight (think little city in random part of Persian Empire) and then hangs around, only to find himself displaced as the peace lasts) …so it’ll probably only make sense to my brain. But I had fun typing crazy fast to fit the song time limit *rubs fingers*]

E Nomine : Das Tier In Mir (Wolfen)
Absalon stood gazing over the field. The shattered spears, rent shields, screaming mortals. A blood smeared grin spread over his face. The beams of sunlight glinting off every swinging sword, it would have been fitting had there been an angelic choir…or heavenly warriors. He laughed, jerking his spear out of the groaning man below him. “If there are demons on the field, you’d think your god would even the odds!!!” His words echoed above the thundering of arms. The despair nearly flooded his senses. “Poor forgotten children, nothing but pain awaits~” He sunk his spear back into the man, snuffing the flame of one more mortal.


Lynden David Hall : All You Need is Love
Absalon paused, hand resting on the door. The mellow, bitter essence that was Zarek was missing, but he could hear the other man’s voice on the other side of the door. Confusion marred his features. Zarek...had changed? And then something certainly NOT Zarek seeped through the door. A lilting laugh. He jerked his hand back from the door. Hope, optimism, underlying pure and simple love. Soraya. Bile rose in his mouth. That woman was destroying everything.


Enya : Only If…
Soraya sat on the reclining cushions, quill in hand. Her face was raised to the heavens, olive skin basking in the golden beams. She glanced over at Zarek, only to frown at his brooding. “Love, stop making that face. There is nothing to worry about. You have striven on this path for so long, do not doubt it now. Good things will continue to occur if you continue to trust yourself” She reached out to touch his hand, leaving a trail of inky smudges. “Oh dear, look at me, getting ink all over you.” He raised her hand to his lips, placing light kisses on her fingertips. A blush spilled across her face, darkening at his intent stare and whisper, “So, you would say I must seize the day, hmm?”


John Denver : Come and Let Me Look in Your Eyes
Zarek placed the piece of charcoal above his son’s head. “Am I taller? Am I taller?!?!” Rubbing the stick against the wall, he leaned back and ruffled the boy’s dark, curly locks. “I do believe you are.” He laughed at the victorious shout as his boy toddled across the room, throwing his small form across the man lounging in the corner. “Uncle ‘Loni~! I’m tall!” The little boy prodded the still figure, trying to draw the man’s blank stare from the window and the clouded sky. A sad smile ghosted on to his father’s face and he quickly pulled back his finger. “’m sorry.” Tiny sandals scrabbled across the tiles as the boy darted out of the room. Zarek watched his son depart, certain the boy would seek the comfort of his mother, then kneeled next to his friend. “Absalon. Come back. Stop hiding in your head.” A shudder wracked the slumped form, empty eyes drifting from the window to meet his hard stare. “We need to talk.”


E Nomine : Der Ring Der Nibelungen
Absalon fisted his hand over his chest, nails biting into graying flesh. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, he was going to burn. Everything burns. He couldn’t take it anymore, the waiting, the agony. It was calling, always calling. He had escaped it in the past, but he was just so tired. He couldn’t burn the city, he loved Zarek too much to destroy all he’d built. His friend meant everything to him, but he knew he was being left behind. The odd one out of the family, he didn’t belong. They were unconsciously subjugating the demon to his worst fear. But, somehow, he couldn’t stop loving them. And if he couldn’t burn them and he couldn’t force himself to forget them, he would have to be the one to burn. He was starving to death anyways, the populace filled with hope and thoughts of the future simmering in their souls, fears of abandonment cast aside in more years of peace than they had ever known. All it would take was a moment of all-devouring Hellfire and he would be done with it. Done with it whispering to the corner of his mind, Come to me, come to me…
Or maybe it was Zarek calling. He tried to wrap his pain filled mind around the words, eyes struggling to focus. He had to obey, it was the only useful thing he could do for his friend anymore.



David Bowie : Underground
Soraya tilted the urn, ashes spilling out into the wind, wafted into the rhythmic surge of the ocean. Tears stained her usually warm face as she turned, empty vessel resting in the crook of her arm. The mingling mourners gave gentle touches of sympathy as she moved her way through them. Reaching the edge of the collected people, she noticed him standing off to the side. Features she knew so well now morphed into disconnected curiosity. “I am h-honored by your presence at my husband’s passing A…good sir.” Dull pain throbbed through her as he smiled gently in sympathy. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Finding myself in a new city, it seemed to be a great commotion. He must have been a well loved man.” She nodded, words caught in her throat. She thought she had been prepared, years of being the only one Zarek had confided his illness to, years to prepare for his absence. But now she had no one to talk about her loss with, no one knew him as well as Absalon. And he had obeyed Zarek’s last wishes. Forget. Forget and start somewhere new. She thought she would envy him, but seeing his empty smile, knowing no happy memories warmed his heart, the loneliness… He bowed his head slightly and started walking down the beach, eyes lingering on the shifting waves before snapping to face forward. She watched as he disappeared beyond the rocks. “I wish you well…stranger.”

[ElliBleu]

[[Just a few quickies before I pop off to a movie. I was gonna do four, but the fourth song I got was Institutionalized by Suicidal Tendencies and I had noooo idea. X3 Oh, and first song's in spanish, so sorry~]]

Song: Dificil
Artist: Juanes

He didn't know what was worse- this faked amiability for his old best-friend-turned-greates-enemy or the soul-wrenching yearning for the lies in those amethyst eyes.

It made him want to scream.

But couldn't be changed. He'd made his choice, just as Lelouch had made his, the second he'd pulled the trigger. They had always been different, down to the very core of things. But now... now they were worlds apart, too distinct and stubborn to bend, to climb from their crosses and bridge the gap. The days were a swirling haze of war and broken promises and tears and betrayals, piled one atop anotehr atop another...

He wanted to scream. Scream because it was so unfair, because the world was on fire and everyone and everything he once cherished was turned to nothing but bitter ashes, eaten by the wind. Because nothing could ever be how it was, no matter how he or Lelouch intended to repair this shattered world.

Slumped against the wall of his dark bedroom, Suzaku sighed shakily. When had life become so unbearably difficult to endure? And why was he now inextricably bound within it's confines?



Song: Fallen Leaves
Artist: Billy Talent

She was running again, dead leaves flying beneath her feet as the terrified she-wolf strove to put as much distance between herself and the city.

It had been terribly empty, nothing but empty roads and vacant buildings with shadows that seemed to try to ensnare and drown the dark-souled wolf. Wandering the desolate streets, crossing in and out of the light the flickering streetlamps offered, Rielle had felt fear closing around her throat like a wire.

There were familiar ghosts at every corner, in every window- the bodies of those nameless, faceless strangers she had killed in a blind craze littered on every street corner. In her horrified frenzy the wolf lost her way, racing wildly through the suffocating streets between the buildings. The cry of some bird passing overhead scared Rielle into stumbling, tearing her knees and palms open on the asphalt.

She couldn't breathe, the shadows were too close, fear bubbling into her lungs like water and drowning her. Help me... the edges of her vision went blurry then black and instinct took over, forcing her mindless body into flight.

Run!

And she did.


Song: Lost
Artist: Katy Perry

He slumped forward onto the table with another wave of nausea, not caring when his temple collided painfully with the unyielding surface. The ache would maybe distract him away from the queasiness. Not that he had anything left retch up anymore. Adrael opened his tired eyes enough to check the digital red numbers above the stove. 4:35 A.M. There was still so much of today left, another damn night...

Slim shoulders twitched erratically, eyes screwing shut again and swearing to the emptiness of the unlit house. He needed daylight to come quicker- it was too easy to get lost in the oppressing dark.

'Adrael,' she had said, 'Addie, come home.'

Another twitch, a restrained sob. What the hell was he supposed to do? There should have been nothing to think about, he was already home.

But why, why, would she--- Obviously he couldn't go back, and right now he felt he couldn't stay here. He viciously dug his fingernails into his arms, teeth sinking into his lip, and cried.

[Ryugexu]

Song: Wait & See ~Risk~
Artist: Utada Hikaru
Link: www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZXH5RlPyGU

"Phoenix, what's troubling you?" The kind woman asked her adopted daughter. "You've been staring off for a long time now, and you don't smile now.."

For a brief interlude, Phoenix's yellow eyes met with her mother's. Phoenix was usually a happy person or at least, not so distant. It seems that the recent tragedy of loosing a loved one had just been too hard on her young heart.

Phoenix had met a boy only a bit older than her recently, but he left as suddenly as he'd come into her life. When he was with her, Phoenix was always smiling, or even if she had started crying for whatever reason, she could depend on him to help her. The struggles the broken family had been going through were starting to wear out the spirit of the half-elf girl.

However, Phoenix knew she had a gift that COULD bring the boy back to them. The main problem with that, though, was that everyone else hated the boy. The boy wasn't just a child as Phoenix wasn't just a half-elf. The boy was a powerful mage who used mindless drones to enslave most of the world- and his child body was a way of either escaping or honestly encouraging someone to stop him.

Someone had stopped him, and now Phoenix was alone without her friend. Though Phoenix was also the powerful Summon Spirit, she hated and feared her powers too much to even consider using them. She preferred to be a lonely child. Rather than use her powers and move on.

The main problem with her fear is that it was the only thing stopping her from realizing she could revive him. You see, the Phoenix is the spirit of Life and Death who stands proudly between the Beginning, Origin, and the return, Ragnarok. If it weren't for her own weakness, she would need to mourn no longer.

=================================================== ö

Song: Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger
Artist: Daft Punk
Link: www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2cYWfq--Nw

[Ryugexu]

Human by The Killers
www.playlist.com/playlist/16539986187 (TRACK 4)

A train ride to the platform was quite something to be worried about. Yugure and Shigure didn't have just any destination. This destination of theirs would be that which could change their existences forever. They were on their way home.

Or, at least, to the place where a letter from their father came from. They were both so tired and disillusioned by the phony world around them, and now, more experienced, they wanted nothing but to return home and rest... You see, after being away for so long they just wanted someone to confirm that they existed, and that they were loved. So long they floated from place to place like a lost shadow in the twilit roads. Yugure was sleeping on the train, for once next to her brother rather than simply as a spirit whilst he was sitting in the seat. Sure, they had to pay twice as much to travel, but they were both their own people now. Shigure had a small smile on his face, remembering and secretly cherishing their journey. He could think of no better reward than to return home now...

[ElliBleu]

Song: Family Tradition
Artist: Senses Fail



Adrael knew it really wasn't a good idea to handle sharp objects when upset- he hadn't needed the therapist to tell him that-, but there was nothing left to clean, nothing to organize, and his damn phone just wouldn't stop ringing. A few wet, skinned potatoes were piled in a bowl on the counter, a fourth slowly being turned against the knife in his hand.

He'd stared at it on the counter for a few moments when it had first started, the digital melody tinkling with alarming volume through the always silent house. Who the hell would be calling him? His only friend didn't have a phone. The daily calendar stuck haphazardly to the refrigerator declared today the 18th, a Thursday. Maybe he'd forgotten to pull a day off? The phone was still ringing. Had he missed an appointment? It wouldn't be the first time he'd received a phone call from a concerned- panicked- psychiatrist after not showing up. Adrael rarely forgot sessions, though. If he didn't show it was intentional. A pathetic resistance to help he needed but didn't necessarily want.

It stopped, the bright screen on the front lighting up with what he knew would say one missed call. Long ears lowered guiltily against his yet-messy hair. Such a coward, couldn't even answer a phone- had to hide from even the smallest threat of outside interference even if it was help. Content in misery and unwilling to let anyone inside his head. It's where he was supposed to be anyway, right? The little brat, the unwanted pest- always in the way and always a burden. And no matter how hard he'd tried to make up for it all-- all he wound up with was more unsightly marks and less of a reason.

His eyes closed when the ringing started again after a couple seconds, pausing the methodical, steady motion of his hands. Maybe it was his doctor, giving him time to answer the phone...

Five and a half minutes later his ears were plastered unhappily against his hair as the tune kept repeating, Adrael was very, very sure it wasn't his psychiatrist, a doctor, a salesman, or even a wrong number. Another vegetable was winding slowly against the blade, more than he could ever eat- especially after entirely losing his appetite- were already waiting in a glass bowl. But it was something methodical, distracting, familiar.

And it finally stopped. He let out a long breath he hadn't meant to hold, swallowing through an almost painfully tight throat. A few more twirls and the now-last potato could join the others and Addie could figure out what the hell to make.

... Adrael had always been jumpy. After 23 years of flinching and cringing he'd nearly perfected it. His phone had fallen silent for a reassuring minute or two, so the sudden shrill chime indicating a very unwanted voicemail made him startle like he'd been physically hit.

The knife and the vegetable fell to the ground as he hissed, blood already making it's way down his arm and to the tile in heavy drops. He liked to cook, the closest thing he had to a healthy pastime, and the knives were kept perfectly sharp. Long fingers wrapped around his thin wrist, trying to hold his shaking hand steady through the slick of the blood pouring out. It was a clean cut at least, deep and spanning diagonally to the base of his thumb.

Looking at it made him feel sick. His legs didn't want to work and he slid to the floor, aided halfway down by the little pool of slippery crimson that had fallen a little to close to a foot. The bleeding hand was clutched tightly to his chest and he swore brokenly before starting to cry. His stupid, spoiled, damned blood.

God, it hurt and he wanted it to hurt more. It was familiar, distracting.

He was ruining his shirt. Hell, he was ruining his jeans, the countertop, the floor, that food was going to go to waste sitting there peeled and wet. A decidedly unhelpful voice in the back of his head told him it probably wasn't healthy that his rather profusely bleeding hand didn't make the list or worries.

If he was lucky maybe all his bad blood would just drain away, maybe he could just leave and be done. Experience and a life of cowardice and inconvenient luck told him no.

It was getting harder to cry. Whether the dizziness was from blood loss or his hyperventilating, Addie didn't know. All he knew was that he needed help, in many ways and of many kinds. Blearily he lifted his head, staring forlornly at the mobile sitting too far away on the counter. The suffocating melancholy and resignation was being usurped by fear.

It took four tries to get to his feet, and three to get his bloody, uncoordinated fingers to dial the right numbers. He needed help, wanted or no.

He started crying again after he hung up, keening breathlessly to himself in misery and self-hate. Adrael needed help. And he was sorry it was true.

[ElliBleu]

[[I didn't know where I should put this but I liked it enough to share it and was hoping to know what people think of it (and Tegan said she wanted to know more about Rei) so I wanna post it somewhere so here I am and here you are. It's supposed to be happy, but it's kinda melancholy at the beginning, sorry. I meant to go to bed several hours ago so I'm sure there's lots of errors and I'll hate it in the morning but I really like it now.]]

Some sort of playlist?: Friends- Yoko Kanno [Wolf's Rain OST], You Could Be Happy- Snow Patrol, Come Home- OneRepublic, Storm- Lifehouse, Amore Amaro- Yoko Kanno [Wolf's Rain OST]

It was hard to watch Rielle sometimes.

It was hard for Rei to let go of the little sister he'd been torn from so long ago, that had delighted in her own songs, that would fly without worry from the highest branches because her brother would never let her fall. It was hard to bear the silence that dominated their home, especially when the older wolf knew the girl had so much to say, so much that needed to be heard. But she was so precariously balanced, so fragile and frightened, that Rei knew that not even he- the only person in the world she loved- could ask what had bent and hollowed her into such an unfamiliar cocoon.

There were times, usually late at night when the incessant hum of the world stopped pressing into her ears, when Rielle was almost ready to speak, to cry, to scream and rage and sob and let someone help shoulder her burden. Mismatched eyes would be wet beneath dark lashes and Rei would find himself frozen in the middle of whatever he'd been doing, watching with terrified apprehension as his little pup of a sister waged an internal war that he was sure had seen too many casualties.

And then there would be the sinking feeling of helpless worry and failure as he watched Rielle hang her head in apology and shame, retreating behind a curtain of wine-red and silence. Even her hair had been lighter when they were younger-- not so long ago to werewolves but Rielle had changed so much sometimes he scarcely recognized her.

She didn't know how to speak when the torrent of betrayal, abandonment, guilt and desperation were drowning her. Afraid she'd lose herself in the flood and drown, like she always thought she'd drown in that long summer grass as a pup with Rei and Seya, when times were easy and her senses were full of sunshine and happiness... A hundred of her lifetimes and Rielle would still owe her brother for all he'd done, for all that he didn't say and didn't question. How could she expect him to share more of her misery than she had already mutely pressed upon him?

The wounds hadn't healed. Maybe they weren't bleeding anymore, but they still pulled and hurt if the way Rielle winced and flinched unexpectedly was any indication. Maybe they never would heal completely, though the thought worried Rei. Like a broken bone not properly set, Rielle carried around an emotional limp, desperately trying to ignore what remained of who she was.

She hadn't buried the pieces deep enough.

It was well past midnight, and well past the she-wolf's most recent rejection and retreat. Her slippered feet- comically pink, fuzzy parodies of paws Rei couldn't quite bring himself to make fun of- were perched on the coffee table, arms curled behind her legs and chin on her bare knees. With a minute sigh he closed his book, taking unhappy notice of how Rielle's frown deepened as she undoubtedly assumed the noise to be her fault. Rising to stretch, Rei set the book on the table beside Rielle's plush feet before moving around behind the couch.

He gently coaxed her out of the comforting puppy-like curl she had settled into, wrapping strong arms around slim shoulders and pressing a chaste kiss to eternally messy hair. "Goodnight, Rielle." The quiet reply, "'Night, Rei," and the not-quite-forced upturn of her mouth was victory enough for the night.


He woke panicked a few hours later, frantically trying to disentanlge himself from the sheets and process exactly what had shaken him awake. The timid Rielle had taken an immediate step back from the bed at her brother's startling reaction, a shaky hand hovering a few millimeters in front of her mouth and the other curled loosely in the front of her pyjama shirt. After a few seconds of confused staring Rei realized it wasn't his own breath that was so broken and harsh despite his shock.

It was dark but the wolf's keen eyes could make out the tears finally leaving wet trails down Rielle's almost childish face, a sharply saline contrast to her yet puppysweet scent. Uncharacteristically blue eyes widened as Rei struggled to find the words he knew he should have had ready. But they weren't there, and he could think of nothing to offer the younger.

Surprisingly Rielle had a solution, pitching unsteadily forward as her voice cracked in a needy, reflexive whimper. The edge of the mattress sagged under her knees and Rei caught her like he always had, hugging his sister as though the slightest gap might tear her so far out of reach again.

She still didn't talk. Couldn't, maybe, with the way she was crying. Bawling. There was so much to say and nowhere to start. "I'm sorry." was all Rielle could manage, a defeated apology for anything and everything.

"It's all right, Rielle," he muttered, the embrace tightening to a point that would have injured a human. The siblings were both lost in the chaotic distress of the younger, and neither were sure if the words were spoken in human tongue or conveyed through beast language. Eventually Rielle returned the hug, wearily twining her arms around the older wolf as the rampant sobbing leveled off to a more even crying. And she clinged shamelessly, like Rei was the center of some universe and Rielle was spinning crazily around it.

"Everything's all right, Elli. You're all right." The old nickname and the steady rhythm of a trusted hand smoothing down her hair had the words spilling before she could even think some sense into them.

"I- I died, Rei,"-he hardly dared breathe lest his own breath drown out her words- "I died, I died...."

Whether it was a nightmare slept or lived, Rei didn't know. It didn't even make sense but that didn't matter, not now. It was a time to accept, not question. The words seemed to come all at once as she talked, rushed and disorienting like a full glass tipped over and clinging so tightly to Rei because if she didn't she would drown. And Rielle wishes it was that easy, to just let the flood of everythign she'd done and been through wash over her head. But Rei, compassionate, patient Rei, won't let her. He's the one holding her up, after all, has blood invested in this and is in for the long haul.

Much of her story didn't make sense yet, but Rei knew the pieces would come together. He had so much to say to the strong little she-wolf, yet none of it really mattered now. It would come later, because right then all that mattered is finally knowing what needs mending and that Rielle will be able to smile with her soul again. You didn't get do-overs in life, but Rei refused to think Rielle was a broken enough wolf to not shake the dust off, lick the wounds and try again.

He'd feared that the chasm between Rielle and him- Rielle and the rest of the world- couldn't be bridged, couldn't be mended.

But this time Rei really thinks it's possible.




[[Pardon the tense shift at the bottom there. But 'thought it was possible' sounded so negative and doom-y and it's supposed to be a happier ending.]]

[Ryugexu]

Character: betterofthebad.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=oc&action=display&thread=185 Reville

Songs: They by Jem, Everyday is Exactly the Same by Nine Inch Nails, Counting Bodies Like Sheep by A Perfect Circle, Map of the Problematique by Muse
All songs are part of a play list here: www.playlist.com/playlist/16539986187

The blind teenager knew, he was sitting in what once was a nice chair at an inn that used to exist. He was alone, the only accompaniment he had was the sound of the rain coming through the remains of the building. He was soaking wet too. Sometimes, a stench would rise if he stepped on 'something' that smelled like rotten blood. He knew that he was surrounded by death. His closest friend, the berserker who probably committed this horrible act, was often a sweet and quiet boy. He told Reville about colors in the ways a blind person could understand. Coldness, sadness, and rain is 'blue', pain, fire, and passion is 'red', and the warmth of the sun and the scent of bread is 'yellow'. The one color that was never explained out of all their conversations was the color black.
Reville knew that right now, all around him, was the color black. Black must be death and painful memories.

The bodies around him, though he was too frightened to touch their faces to identify them, were probably the bodies of the companions who were traveling with him. He imagined in his mind, the 'red' blood of his party members splattered all round, even on himself, and there he was sitting in the 'blackness' and the 'blueness' of rain. Calling out would be no use, as Reville heard no one breathing. They were all dead.

Reville could only assume the rest of the town was covered in death as well, as no matter how long he waited there, he heard no chance stirring from anywhere. He felt uncontrollably, his eyes began leaking. Crying was something Reville could never remember doing. Crying was too weak for an already crippled Lord's son.

Then, suddenly, the feelings of everything around him changed. Suddenly, it was white- a blank slate. There was no stench of blood, there was no rain. It was gone. It was frightening and Reville found himself shouting as though expecting a reply, "Who's there!? Hello!?" He could hear someone humming, and suddenly he was lying down and a warm cloth was wrapped around him. The inn was no longer there, but he wasn't alone either. It was a woman's humming, and it reminded him of his mother.

"Calm down, Reville," a foreign woman's voice assured him, "everything will be alright, for you have been spared."

"Spared!?" Reville's strained voice shouted. He realised suddenly how weak he felt, as though perhaps he'd gotten sick.

"There was a horrible misfortune, but the Light has saved you." She explained.

"It doesn't matter. How will I get home? I can't even finish the journey to visit that stupid sage alone!" His panicked voice explained.

"So you would rather have joined all of your comrades in death?"

"I can't do anything without them. I may as well be dead if I'm alone. B-besides... I cared about them!" Reville explained, as though saying it was reason enough for the members of his troupe to return magically to life.

The woman let out a soft laugh, "Reville, are you admitting you care about someone other than yourself? Perhaps your lesson has been learned."

"What the HELL is that supposed to mean?!" Reville yelled at her, but then her presence was gone as well.

A door opened somewhere in the room, and he heard the familiar voice of the berserker. "Um, Reville? Are you awake yet? Zee said it's time to get going. If we stay in this town too long we'll get off-track."

It was then, Reville realised, the last several hours of his existence had all been a part of a horrible dream. He had returned to the real world, and his companions were all alive.

[ElliBleu]

[Blah, Ryuichi post is random and not so great.]

Song: Phenomenon (Open Your Soul)
Artist: Thousand Foot Krutch


She left her gloves on the vanity. Kios couldn't help notice the seemingly innocent gesture, casting a discreet glance at Ryuichi to judge her expression and rather unsurprised to find there wasn't one to read. Maybe she had simply forgotten them, as uncharacteristic as it seemed for the methodical woman. But no, it hadn't been an accident. Her dress made that apparent.

The Tensho's uniform was the same as usual; shirt, jacket, emblazoned overcoat and skirt in black, blue and white. What made the startling, almost unnerving difference were the lack of gloves and glasses and the presence of the stiff-brimmed officers cap over her freshly braided hair. The more usual chic, stiletto-heeled boots had been replaced with something thicker, sturdier. On anyone else in NOA the unassuming leather boots would have looked right at place. On the Tensho they were a perturbing change from harmless fashion to brutal function.

Her lieutenant didn't salute, per Ryuichi's annoyed request soon after Kios had been appointed. The metal door automatically closed behind her as Ryuichi Tsuyumi exited her private room to stand before the waiting Kios, meeting his gaze briefly before moving past and down the hallway at a brisk walk.

"Let's go."

He held his silence and followed shortly behind, but Kios was certain she'd been smiling.

---

Across the NOA grounds, Ryuichi stood atop the hood of a jeep and watched her soldiers gear up in the hangar. One hundred of the Academy's best, with at least one Kamui-bound or tohsu-wielder for every two yet lacking the bond or i'touren. All the soldiers carried a high-power rifle, complete with piercing, incendiary, or exploding shells. In addition, all the kamui-bound carried a non-firearm weapon. Her own weighty, impressive lance was propped in the backseat of her jeep alongside Kios' broadsword. The grin appeared again, tallying the odds in humanity's favor in this encounter. Twenty-five artillery-equipped vehicles excluding her own, and at least thirty kamui and the tohsu coupled with them. Adding Kios' kamui, Kichebo, and her own Shihihoukousen to NOA's end of the equation... They could hardly lose.

The cool, rough brush of scales across the back of her neck confirmed that Houko shared her optimism, rippling into life with considerably more teeth and spines than last he had been seen. "All right, soldiers," she barked out, voice smooth and feminine but familiar with ordering and being obeyed. Houko's scales bristled with his lady's voice, only increasing his already impressive size. "An Atanan den is our target, twenty clicks beyond EDEN. We cannot allow these monsters to crawl so close beside us; they seek to destroy all humanity, all the kamui who have moved to defend our right to life. You know your orders- search and destroy! We do not fall back until the enemy has been eliminated."

Engines roared to life above raucous cheers,the massive hyena-like Kichebo appearing in a shower of white-hot sparks and crackling electricity to add her unnatural bear-like roar. Shihihoukousen hissed like steam and roared like a waterfall, coiling his serpentine body and leading the way out the hangar doors, Kichebo exploding into action alongside the Tensho and her Lieutenants jeep.

---

Indistinct chatter buzzed through Ryuichi's earpiece, coordinates and codes and a thousand other details that she'd commit to memory years ago. The brim of her officer's hat was pulled low against the sun's glare, one hand on her thigh and the other resting atop the door of the jeep tearing through the desolation outside EDEN's walls. The stream of military had a cloud of dust rising from the wasteland to the faultless sky. A perverse smile quirked her lips, the expression again immediately catching her lieutenant's attention and making Kios shift his grip on the steering wheel. Though the beast effortlessly keeping pace with the speeding jeep made no noise, Kios heard Kich laughing.

Ma'am. Final order confirmation with base has been requested before engagement."

She flicked the brim of her hat back and turned her communicator on, catching the unusually green eye of Shihihoukousen 'swimming' overhead. He showed his long rows of teeth in a grim parody of a smile. "You know your mission, soldiers," she said as her grin widened and the NOA soldiers several cars away could feel the excited surge of her tohsu wave. With a dull thud Ryu settled the heel of a boot on the dashboard and crossed the other leg over it, lifting a hand to the back of her head.

It was exhilarating, rushing into battle like this with her best commanders and soldiers behind her. She could hear their kamui roaring and shouting along with their human partners. The sheer amount of tohsu- flaring and rippling with the varying pre-battle emotions- would have every Atanan in the area spreading their wings and soaring to the scene. And Ryuichi would destroy every one of the gods that lifted a hand against what remained of humanity.

She laughed wildly, moving the communicator again to her mouth. "Leave none of the Atanan standing. For EDEN and NOA, for all that you hold dear. Search and destroy, soldiers. Show these would-be vengeful gods that they are not the only phenomena to walk this earth." A rampant cheer broke from the convoy, various showers of sparks, claps of thunder and other sudden elemental surges a testament for the unseen kamui. Shihihoukousen made his support clear in the geysers that burst from the ground, blanketing the fleet in a white fog.

The looming shapes of Atanan soon appeared through the haze. Kios kept the car speeding towards the beasts as Ryuichi rose to stand on the seat, fingers wrapped firmly, familiarly, around the shaft of her lance. The grin was back, as fearsome as the dragon's-- even without the needle-sharp teeth and gaping jaws.

[ElliBleu]

[‘Cause Hawkers told me to do a Keith song. <3]

Songs: The Hard Way, Better Life
Artist: Keith Urban

The long strands of grass in Niku’s fingers had been braided and unbraided until they were soft and limp, watching Vivi play with Pella, a Ponyta the same age as the little Vulpix. He loved his niece, he really, really did, more than he loved himself, which was quite a lot, but lately he hadn’t much felt like…. playing. He hadn’t thought he’d been acting any differently, but today Vivian hadn’t even asked him to play, hadn’t latched onto a tail or two and begged to be chased or carried or pushed on the swings. And it had hurt his very heart to have apparently let Vivian pick up on his upset. She was too little and sweet to deserve anything but the very best attention and adoration of her only uncle. Even though she was six and really shouldn’t have been as observant as she was. Niku knew he shouldn’t have let it affect Vivi, but the optimistic Ninetales was never quite sure how to be anything other than perfectly happy.

It just wasn’t figured into his wiring.

Niku loved his Phe, he really did, he was sure of it, but Niku was starting to think he just wasn’t smart enough to fix everything, to make it all good enough to keep the feline hanging around. It was like playing Jenga, picking out one little piece at a time and carefully settling it somewhere else to try and make the whole thing stay standing. But Niku wasn’t so delicate and calm and he’d really never been any good at Jenga at all, even though he’d always tried. Words weren’t his strongest allies, either- he tripped and stumbled through them until they made no sense or just avoided his own words altogether. And sometimes being so entirely agreeable didn’t help matters much, he supposed.

And so he sat alone on a hill in a park, restlessly twisting grass into knots and keeping an eye on his beloved niece. Pale ears swiveled forward when the Vuplix called for him, waving her arms excitedly and giggling. It made the blonde male smile and wave back automatically, tilting his head to attempt to deduce what she was trying to say between laughter. Even Pella was laughing, pointing with a shaky hand towards the Ninetales.

“Mommy!” Vivi finally managed to gasp out, hugging onto her friend as they laughed themselves breathless.

Niku’s ears flattened to his head, scarlet eyes widening. That couldn’t be good. He made it halfway to standing before a solid something collided very intentionally with his back, sending him and his assailant tumbling downhill in a flurry of far too many fluffy tails. An arm locked around his neck and, as he had a hundred times before, Niku reflexively elbowed his sister in the stomach and rolled away. Nalia growled and pounced again only to be thrown off and leapt on in return. They struggled in the grass for several more minutes, Niku only managing to pin his sister because he’d wound up being several inches taller as they’d grown up.

The younger pouted in an offended way down at his older sister, kneeling across her stomach to be well out of kicking range. She could be wearing heels or pointy-toed shoes, it didn’t stop her, Niku knew that from experience. Nali grinned happily through short, disheveled hair just as pale as her brother’s, giving her daughter a thumbs up before turning back to Niku. “Hey there, Nikki, couldn’t stand watching you sit there and mope any more.” It was hard not to smile back, but Niku managed to keep frowning. “So you pushed me down a hill.”

“It’s more like I helped you fall down the hill,” she corrected cheerfully, reaching up to pull on the end of his ponytail. “Now let me up, I have a husband and I’m not afraid to use him. Even on my own little brother.” Niku did grin at that, moving off to settle again in the grass and letting her sprawl beside him. Her husband, a Nidoking, had very little trouble handling a wife like Nalia.

They sat in comfortab;le silence for a few long minutes, watching Vivi and Pella play a game of very one-sided tag. The Vuplix simply had no chance of catching the Ponyta, especially with five curly tails eager to throw her off balance. With an overdramatic yawn Nalia stretched, ‘accidentally’ punching Niku’s thigh to reclaim his attention. “Soooo…” she drawled, eyeing him expectantly and clearly waiting for him to elaborate.

“So what?”

“Nikki, I will punch you for real. I’m your sister, it’s my right and duty. And I take them both very seriously. Now whyyy…” Nalia sat up as she held the vowel, leaning forward until she was nose-to-nose with the male. “Are you so worked up? Or worked down, as it would seem. I haven’t seen you so… not-bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed since that Bellossom girl dumped you in middle school. Or since you thought you’d try to revisit your brunette days. That was hilarious, by the way. For me. But I ached for you under the laughter, I really did.”

Niku grinned again, keeping his eyes on the kids to try and avoid letting Nalia see she’d made him smile. They both had rather impressive egos. “I’m fine, Nali. Just tired.”

“Mmhmm, and I’m a frumpy, unattractive Wobbufet who isn’t wearing three-hundred dollar shoes.” was the immediate reply. He couldn’t help looking down, humming appreciatively as Nalia pointed her toes to best show off the footwear. The moment of almost-bonding was cut short when she reached over to firmly pinch one of Niku’s ears. With a yelp he swatted her hand away, pouting once more at his sibling. She pouted right back, feminine features settling perfectly into the expression.

“Nikki, what’s the point of having as gay brother if we can’t talk about boooooys?” she whined, latching onto an arm. He whined right back, shifting his voice up a few notes to match hers, “To have someone you can borrow cloooothes from and watch romantic comedies wiiiiith.”

Adopting an expression of perfect revelation, Nali gasped softly and again fell back into the grass. They both laughed, and let another silence reign for a bit. A tail- not one of his, though it was easy to get confused with eighteen of them within the same cubic yard- brushed against one of his own, making him look over to Nalia. “You love him, right?”

The question caught him off-guard, but Niku nodded. He wasn’t much for lying, especially to Nali. Or about something so obvious. “Yeah. It’s just… I’m not very good at it.” He moved enough to hug his knees, taking a slow breath. “It’s not easy, Nali.”

Another punch to the leg was his response, blinking in surprise as the woman levered herself onto her three hundred dollar shoes with the help of his shoulder. “So do it the hard way, you big pansy. Don’t mope about it eternally like some cheesy love song. Though I know how much we both love those.” She stooped down to kiss each of his cheeks, affectionately pinching the ear again before turning to call for Vivian.

It was with a much lighter mood that Niku scooped up the little Vulpix as she ran over, settling her securely on his shoulders before racing off. She laughed, the brightly infectious noise pulling a small chuckle from the formerly melancholy Ninetales.

He pulled his cell from his pocket with a steady grin, sending off a few ‘less-than-three’s to his favorite kittycat.

Being gloomy was way too much work, anyways. And could result in wrinkles.

-----------------------------

[MGS2 makes less sense than other nonsensical Metal Gears so some details might be wrong. Like whether “Iriquois Pliskin” (best fake name EVER, Snake) said he was a Marine and what ranking. I couldn’t remember so I made it up. And if Raiden was actually in FOXHOUND at the beginning of the Big Shell incident. And that Snake somehow reacquired his cigarettes after giving them to Raiden. Is there actually a drug designed to ease shakiness when sniping? THEY CALL HIM VAMP BECAUSE HE’S A BISEXUAL, NOT CUZ HE DRINKS BLOOD! :DDDD]


Song: Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums
Artist: A Perfect Circle

The world was going crazy. Raiden could hear, feel, the codec call trying to patch into his naomachines, an irritating buzz somewhere behind his ear. The Colonel wasn’t making sense, apparently didn’t even exist according to this Otacon. The Otacon. The signals were all being broadcast from within Arsenal, and nothing had yet yielded any information that the Colonel ever actually existed. Raiden had admitted to never having met him, only through Codec calls and telecom--

-beep, beep—

--Rose had been kidnapped, if she’d ever really actually existed in the first place. Raiden couldn’t remember if he’d noted the blank walls of his bare apartment before or after Rose had said she’d papered it--

Could an unreal person be kidnapped? Could a nonexistent person kidnap another one? Did Arsenal even exist? The damn radar was useless- it had shown nothing but a turtle for the past hour. A damn turtle. He chalked up another point for the nonexistent tally. Chaff, or some sort of jamming interference, would have reduced his radar to static, not turtles.

Hell, maybe he didn’t exist either. That certainly would have explained a lot-

--beep, beep, beep---

-Like the dead man crouching next to him in a skullsuit, knee brushing his own in the cramped space and an AK clutched too-familiarly to his chest as he peered around the corner, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. He’d said he was a Marine, Lieutenant First Grade Iriquois Pliskin, debriefed and flown in with Team Bravo. A Marine who seemed to know much more than Raiden or the Colonel had. Solid Snake’s body had been positively ID’d after the sinking of the oil tanker two years ago- DNA had confirmed it- that had made the Big Shell environmental cleanup facility and oil net a necessity-

--the Codec, the goddamn Codec wouldn’t stop, but he couldn’t answer it. It was grating into his skull like a drill, he was sure he’d never stop hearing it, the beeping escalating into a clamorous mechanical whine that made him think it was a physical pain. He was sure whoever had been broadcasting the false information and mission objectives via the AI Colonel to him this entire time was listening, watching, even without his accepting the link---

Raiden screwed his eyes shut, fingers tightening on his suppressor-fitted Socom. Nothing made sense! He’d been sent to defuse a terrorist threat, to rescue the President- dead now; not defuse perfumed bombs and bisexual Romanian vampires and women who couldn’t be hit with bullets. A government-created nuclear threat against it’s own people. In all his hours of VR simulations, combat training, none of it had been anything like this; all that seemed infinitely more real than this supposed reality and he kept expecting the simulation to be over, the screen to fade out and bring him back to the monochromatic FOXHOUND training facility.

--beep, beep, beep, beep—

The base of an AK to his ribs snapped Raiden’s eyes open, trying to keep his breathing steady and deep through the pressure his skullsuit exerted on his torso and abdomen. He shifted his finger off the trigger of the gun in his hands as he tensed, turning his head to face Pliskin—Snake. The older man still had his eyes on the corner of the metal crate they crouched behind, head tilted as he tried to count how many footsteps were in the immediate vicinity. Raiden was vaguely convinced he wasn’t even breathing he was so still, since his own breath was making small puffs of mist in Arsenal’s frigid depths. If he thought about it too much he’d be too afraid to breathe, someone might see it hovering in the air.

A fresh magazine was mutely offered, and Raiden blinked stupidly at it before slipping it into one of the appropriate slots on his sneaking-suit. Even had they been somewhere well away from enemy soldiers and at least twenty-five Metal Gear RAYS carrying full nuclear payloads, Jack wasn’t sure he’d question the legend as to where exactly he’d procured the Socom ammunition. His voice was low when he spoke, grating and barely audible above the equally low mechanical rumblings of Arsenal and the Big Shell overhead. “If you run out of ammo you can have some of mine.” Snake shifted the cigarette to the other corner of his mouth, correcting his grip on the automatic rifle. “Relax, kid. You exist just as much as I do. Ready?”

Raiden swallowed, forcing everything out of his mind except his gun and Snake and the immediate threats, curling his free hand around the base of the Socom to steady his aiming. He should have saved some of the Pentazemin, but he’d downed it all with that PSG sniper rifle braced against his shoulder providing support fire with Plisk-- Snake as Emma had tried to cross the oil fence.

The blonde shook his head, trying to physically dislodge the distracting thoughts. Later, not now. “Yeah.” Venomously green eyes broke their vigil long enough to give Raiden a grave look, tilting his chin away from their hiding place in an abrupt gesture for the blonde to proceed.

With one fluid motion Raiden was on his feet and running down the looming hangar, silenced, precise gunshots taking out the two nearest guards before he was noticed. And before the first radio was flipped to call for an alert and backup Snake had torn into action with a volley of fully automatic fire, cigarette now impossibly trailing smoke.

Nothing made sense. Raiden could scarcely tell what gunfire came from the enemy, what from his ally- the only difference being that some didn’t seem to be particularly aimed at him. Spent casings littered the floor from Snake’s incessant firing, Raiden hearing his own clatter to the floor with a disturbing clarity.

It was chaos, it didn’t have to make sense.

Act and react, trust instinct and body.

The greenish-gray blur in his peripheral was Snake, half lost amidst the gloomy greyness of Arsenal, near enough Raiden to provide cover but distant enough that the enemies needed aim for two distinct targets. What the roaring AK missed, Raiden’s more precise Socom could pick off.

The radios still buzzed frantically, alarms blaring to life, declaring another wave of soldiers to be on their way.

Snake lit another cigarette, paused a moment, and started running.

Raiden followed the older man- briefly seeing nothing but the smoldering orange-red tip of the cigarette as his vision tunneled- snapping a new magazine into place and discarding the now-useless suppressor.

It didn’t have to make sense yet.


At the very least—

he was alive.

[]

[Netreemic]

“Wait My Turn” Moses Mayfield -Events of the start of Ilari's life before moving to Russia~
There's avarice in aggression
The fire it aches with perfection
I don't wanna show you anyway
You're choking on all your regrets
Your violence aches in the cement
I don't wanna show you anyway

She frowned up at the looming figure and the small sketchbook held in his hand. “I supposed to believe that I told you to give me this. That you, with your crazy-ass hair, ‘I run on ecstasy’ look, are someone I should be listening to.” She leveled a glare at him and took another sip from her glass, clearly less than amused with his crooked, assured grin. But, by all things shiny, she wanted that blasted book. One second, she’s enjoying some overpriced wake-up juju, the next tall, dark, and crazy is pulling Mr. Mysterio. Right up her alley of interest. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against the glass, brown eyes darting to the little recycled paper notebook. “Who are you anyways?”

“Chaos.” A shiver ran through the woman at his simple utterance. Holy crap. This guy wasn’t just nutters…he was the KING of the nutters. Once second ruining the world… “And the next, putting it back on its feet. Just for kicks.” His eyes glittered, impossibly endless…she quickly averted her gaze. “You want it or not, cupcake?” She snatched the sketchbook out of his fingers, staring intently at the dented surface of the table as he made his way out of the coffee shop, spilled drinks and other accidents occurring in his wake. “Have fun. Always did like you.” Some of the shop occupants looked up at his loud words, but most were busily bemoaning their dampened clothing. She chewed her lip, one finger resting under the cover of the book. Maybe…just maybe…this book would answer some of her burning questions…the ache she never could relieve. She fisted her other hand and flipped the cover open.

I am the 45th Curiosity. And I will not be forgotten…

And I'm not gonna show you how
Waiting for a sound
I don't wanna believe in you tonight
Tonight

The thin book was shoved violently underneath the pillow. The bloody thing was right. She’d found him. Found him burning his way through a forest…and a forest of people. She threw her arm across her eyes as she flopped across the bed, thinking back over the last months. Digging through dregs of sources to find the signs that signaled his location on the planet, this other demon mentioned in her strange little journal. Along the way, rubbing shoulders with a colorful cast of demonic mongrels, she’d found out she wasn’t looking for the right guy…not anymore. The easily annoyed, though well contained, man in her notes had been swapped with a confused maniac. She sighed, dejected. Sometimes, if she closed her eyes and emptied her mind, she could almost…remember…what he used to be like. It was weird, like the words she had written previously could awaken anything. Pfft…fat chance. She sighed again, rolling herself deeper into the blankets. It…hurt to see him the way he was.

“You know…” the woman stilled, eyes widening at the voice. “You really shouldn’t feel too sorry for him.” Brown eyes peeked out from the fluffy cave, locking on the man lounging on the bedside chair. “There’s a reason he doesn’t know what he is. It’s his punishment, see.” He stretched his long body, that all knowing smug smile worming its way back on to his features. “And you want to know why…why he is being punished. Such a good little girl,” She started back from his hand patting her ankle through the blankets. “Curiosity always fulfilling her function. Can’t say the same for your brother, always getting distracted. Always getting in the way of our good little girl. You have to be careful with that one, cupcake. Got something to tell you about ‘im…”
---
She buried her face in the pillow, tears dampening the fabric. No. She’d been kind of fond of the guy…but now…now? She…well, the previous her…had been on the verge of helping him out…and he’d blasted her to atomic pieces? Clearly she’d been on the verge of figuring out this crap deal they’d been given…the short life spans of almost every one of their kind. The book was proof. And just what had he known at the end? Would…would he still know?

Old mistakes that I have made
I don't want you to know
I guess I'll learn
I'll wait my turn
I'll wait my turn
Tonight

She stared across the picturesque table setting. Lordie, he looked so out of place. Bruised, tired eyes, hair pulled into a hasty tail, disheveled clothing. Maybe a meal from a street vendor would have been a better choice. No, she needed him uncomfortable. He might let something slip if he was in a disconcerting position…or perhaps he’d go postal. But instead he was hesitantly smiling at her over his menu. It was adorable. She growled at herself. Vaporized.

“So…uh….I’ve never eaten in one of these restaurant places.” He chuckled embarrassedly and gestured at the menu. Never? He’s been around for at least twenty years… “Is there anything you’d suggest?”

“The steak with shrimp ‘n parmesan is always nice,” she replied politely, mind trying to link the suave, aristocratic man he used to be to…this.

“Oh…guess I’ll try that.” He slapped his menu down, draining the last of his off-brand cola. “Where’d that friggin’ guy go?” The last dregs were slurped noisily, ice cubes jangling in an attempt to lure the waiter back. A smile tugged her lips, before she could wipe it back off. If she fell for his quirks again, the crap would happen all over again. Couldn’t like the way he nibbled his straw, waggled it around while staring at the tip, how those big green eyes (well, one and a half eyes) darted to glance at her, crinkling his discolored face almost bashfully before darting away again. She…was not going to get anywhere tonight.

The open ends of addiction
Desire replaced with affliction
I don't wanna blame you anymore
With focus strong on the feeling
No room for thoughts you're concealing
I don't wanna blame you anymore

She plunged his head under the water, fingers wound through his long black locks. Bubbles seeped out of his nose, eyes staring back up through the swirling water. She could just keep him there, see how long he’d last, if he’d fight back. She lifted his head back out of the sink, fingers massaging soap down to his scalp.

“You really are turning yourself into a grease ball, eh?” She scrubbed harder, swallowing thickly. “Seriously, you weren’t this grungy last week.”

“Mmmm…the river is kinda dangerous right now.” She paused in her rubbing to look down at him.

“It’s got piranhas. That’s more than ‘kinda’, dipwad.” He smiled at her growled words, thin face sparkling clean, though still strained. She shivered under his direct stare. He used to do that. I…she…just couldn’t…can’t figure out why.

“Whatcha thinking about?” She blinked at the seriousness cooling his voice, eyes refocusing.

“Nothing important.” A soft smile settled on her face before stretching wider as she ground her fists into either side of his head. “Unlike the whirring gears always clicking in yours.” Warm laughter filled the air until she realized she was the only one laughing. Her chuckles died quickly, concern replacing merriment. “Is there something wrong? Something you want to talk about?” His green eyes dulled, shutters closing tightly.

“No.” She nodded and grabbed the pitcher, pouring tepid water over his head, rinsing away the suds. She bit her lip, eyes stinging with restrained tears. She so badly wanted to move past her fears based in that stupid notebook and have something with this man but she couldn’t get away from her nature. What is he not saying? Does he…remember? Silence filled the small kitchen as she set to work with the scissors, black hairs falling in twisted piles.

And I 'm not gonna show you how
Waiting for a sound
I don't wanna believe in you tonight
Tonight

She kept giving him that look. Like he was someone else…like she wanted him to be someone else. He let out a strangled cry, bloodied fingers digging into the blackened bark. He was already trying so hard to do that. How could he do more? This other person seemed so far beyond his ability to duplicate. He was fighting his very nature, striving to be a “decent fellow.”

And she wouldn’t tell him anything. What ever they had, if it had ever counted as anything, was unraveling at the seams. When she wasn’t off for days at a time, she was inquiring after his thoughts. Was that the problem? Did this someone always have some amazing idea formulating, sharing and developing little brainchildren with her? He did things. He didn’t sit around thinking. Except when he was boiling his brains out over this. Battered fists struck the tree over and over, confusion and anguish coloring his final scream, the tree replying with its own screeching groan as it exploded under the force, charcoaled pieces scattering across the clearing.

He crumpled against the blasted stump, clinging like it was his last lifeline. He couldn’t take this waiting. But she wasn’t talking. Part of him tried the old argument, whispering that it was all just in his head. He was terrified about actually enjoying someone’s company, knowing, in the end, his violent and asshole-ic tendencies destroyed everything. But the rest of him rebelled childishly, feelings of betrayal and hopelessness leaving him dizzy. He jerked as an appreciative whistle cut through the deathly silence, head whipping around, an ugly snarl stretching his face as he sprang across the burnt ground, arm poised to knock the intruder’s head off.

“Whoa, boy.” His fist was caught in a broader hand and snapped down, pulling him ungracefully to his knees, shins grinding to a painful stop in the exposed roots. An animalistic yowl burst forth as pressure continued to be exerted on his wrist, bending it the wrong way. His body contorted, trying to relieve the mind blanketing pain. Green eyes flickered frantically, attempting to focus on the stranger through the agony. All he could see were teeth.

“Wow, you grew up all kinds of crazy.” The pressure remained, but he could tell the person had knelt down. “We have things to discuss, so withhold your hostilities.”

Old mistakes that I have made
I don't want you to know
I guess I'll learn
I'll wait my turn
I'll wait my turn
Tonight

He slipped through her window, brushing aside the mosquito netting. He had done it dozens of times, especially when she was gone. Mostly for the air conditioning. Not many places had it. Her machine diligently plunking along in the corner, he glanced around the room, convulsing as he resisted the need to start stripping the room and speed his search. He shouldn’t be doing this. This was wrong. He shook himself, determination building once more.

“Little book, where are you?” He stepped over a pile of clothing, treading lightly on bare feet. The pile of papers revealed nothing, same with the drawers in the desk. He paused, fingers drilling the lip of the desk. Then he zeroed in on the bed. All the times he’d snuck in, he never went near it. Seemed a little too stalkerish. He moved to stand next to the fluffy mound, eyes boring holes into the pillows. He slapped them aside, face darkening when he found a battered book. He flipped it to the last page, her handwriting scribbled sideways across the page, the story almost complete. He’d been hoping to let this all slide under the bridge. Ready to accept that there were crazier people in the world than him. But no, it didn’t look like his lucky day. It was never his lucky day. No matter how long…it never would be.

Tonight
Open your eyes
Brace yourself its
Always coming
Always coming back

“He loved her. Problem of the millennia solved. I hope you enjoy your newfound life.”

The police stared, uncomprehending, as the woman laughed delightedly. Her eyes darted across the blood-flecked page again, soaking the words. The police would have stopped her from skipping away, she was after all the owner of the apartment, but they just couldn’t work up the will to care. A general pall seemed to have seeped through all present, speeding their motions and decreasing their thoroughness. “Now I know what he knew~!” A few onlookers shivered before quickly walking away. They weren’t feeling very curious about this incident. It was pretty obvious what happened. Life had gotten too hard for the creepy lay-about that had been lurking on the borders of their town. Not a big loss.

Old mistakes that I have made
I don't want you to know
I guess I'll learn
I'll wait my turn
I'll wait my turn oh
I guess I'll learn
I'll wait for you

“She’s in Dominion Hospital. It’s in Falls Church, Virginia.” Ilari stared at the brochure slid across the small table. A family cuddled on the front page, giving all signs of hope and happiness.

“Looks lovely.” He pushed it back across the table. Shaded eyes turned back to watching the people walking past the café as he calmly lit a cigarette. “Nice of you to set her up."

“Oh, dear boy, I hope you don’t mean it like that.” Chaos grinned, tucking the brochure in the pocket of his coat. “I gave you an opportunity to act very much unlike him and you cured my little lady of her interest, not really a set up if the pawns have free will. She stays in a safe environment and the doctors are suddenly more inspired to find out all the answers to life. Nothing but good intentions. Especially after that incident last year.” He pursed his lips. “Bad business.” Ilari grunted.

“How long do you think a bunch of doctors with access to a variety of deadly tools and medicines are going to last, when all it took was one guy with a paring knife and a morbid curiosity about anatomy to take out an entire town?” He breathed out, growing exasperated. “Is there any other reason you came to visit?”

“No, not really.” The wiry man shrugged and rose with a groan. “Though,” he paused, eyebrows raised in mock innocence, “you shot yourself.”

“Yup.”

“The police declared you dead and had you buried.”

“They weren’t very thorough.”

“ You know he used to smoke too, don’t you?”

“And so does half the world population.” He gazed back into the other’s twirling stare, cigarette smoldering. “Enjoy the rest of you day in Novosibirsk, sir.”

[ElliBleu]

[[Just one cuz I hate sharing Addie things cuz things like this are just for me.]]

Song:The Ground Folds (Acoustic)
Artist: Senses Fail

Just throw it back for one more night.

That was all, it was just one night. One more night; after so many, it was nothing. It was nothing. Should have been nothing. One more of the hundreds. Besides, that was what the liquor was for. And the meds. Alternatives to feeling like himself, which was definitely a very good thing after the past days. He hadn’t thrown it all up yet tonight, so by all means he should have feeling pretty damn good.

He wasn’t.

The piano bench was missing two legs and the instrument itself bearing a few scars testifying the act, chairs upside down and the couch pushed askew. A bookshelf on it’s side, the contents strewn across the floor and broken. Phones had been ripped from the walls, the cellular left somewhere in two pieces, and the few framed pictures in the house scattered and smashed.

There was glass littered everywhere, he should have been wearing shoes and would need to until the floors and carpets had been meticulously cleaned and all the shards and splinters picked up. Burning in yet another crash, the small halfbreed had broken all the mirrors and taken satisfaction in breaking himself in the reflection. His own repulsive face with his frail mom’s chin and delicate neck and Addie, oh, Addie, don’t you know you’ve got your daddy’s eyes?

His stomach lurched and the room spun, slumping against the wall for support when what spine he’d managed to find finally turned back into ash under the sudden weight. Again he’d messed it all up, let himself wander down paths he'd sworn against time and again but never really convinced himself were forbidden. Once more among the hundreds. It had been easier alone, there was less to carry. Less to think and feel and worry. Would have been so much easier to let it all go all alone.

He was going to be sick; whether from nerves or the unfriendly mix of chemicals he’d ingested Addie wasn’t sure.

Slick bare feet slipped on the dark gray marble tile when he stumbled into the bathroom, automatically reaching out to grab hold of something to stop his fall. The shower curtain held his slight weight for a second before the plastic rings holding it up snapped with a series of rapid snaps, sending Addie tumbling gracelessly forward. The edge of the bathtub rammed painfully into his ribs and left him half laying across the porcelain, one hand curled on the rim and another splayed open

God fucking dammit.

It hurt, and it hurt way beyond the bruise building across his ribs and the little cuts on his feet and hands. Ached head to tailtip, in and down down down to press so hard in his chest that he was surprised his heart could still beat under all the pressure, sure that he would feel so much better if it would just break already.

It was easier to drown alone without someone to grab your hand and drag you back up, and make you do it all over again.

With a small, reedy noise Adrael dragged himself into the bathtub and leaned back until his head collided back to rest on the edge. The white plaster ceiling started to swim as he stared, tears welling up on his lashed. He kicked his feet out with another wordless noise of mounting distress, catching the water handle and sending a spray of water down through the showerhead. The cold made him flinch, clothes sticking wetly to his skin and raising goosebumps and racking the tiny frame with shivers within a few moments.

But Addie let it go, made no effort to move from the tub or switch the water off even when his ears were plastered miserably to his dripping hair and the bathroom floor was flooded and leaking into the carpet of the hallway. It made him pleasantly numb, if he ignored the nips of discomfort starting in his extremities. Couldn’t feel himself crying, either, and that made it just a bit easier to ignore the feeling-- to ignore all the feelings which caused this problem in the first place-- that he had no more will left to kill.

And he gladly passed out.

[ElliBleu]

[[Gosh, I just love this game too much. I don’t even know how these things happen. At least it’s not Metal Gear~? >w>;]]

----------

Song: Memories
Artist: Koh Ohtani (Shadow of the Colossus OST)

----------

The sun hasn’t set.

It hasn’t even moved, just spinning in place. Not since he’s come to this land of light and sacrilege and moving mountains. But surely time has passed- he’s traveled so far and seen those mountains crumble under his own hands- he is too weary to be standing still, but she hasn’t moved either.

Not that the dead should move.

He hears her, though. Every time he wakes up again on the rough stone of this forbidden temple with new wounds already looking days old he hears her. She speaks without actual words, nothing but noise and timbre but it’s her, it’s Mono, it has to be her because nothing else would make his broken heart throb so painfully. Because nothing else matters.

A colossus has fallen, and with it’s crumbling left yet more terrible darkness as the wanderer’s victory. The first few times he had run from the tendrils, the writhing shadow that sought him when one of the beasts fell. Not anymore. And each time they seek him and bind him until he is sure he can feel the anguish and agony of the dead giants burrowing into his very bones as the freed essence of Dormin corrupts him with an audible crack; he’s drowning in the darkness that he has released from the stony sentinels as it pours from his mouth in a thick, shadowy fog and he falls into utter black.

But now again it is light, always light, even through clouds there is light here. It hurts his pale eyes when he opens them, feeling sand and grit scraping roughly against his cheek. It feels like waking into a nightmare.

She still isn’t moving, but he hears her, asking him to stop, to leave her and stop catapulting himself further into death as she herself nears life. Every time she has more color even as his own fades, and she almost looks as though she’s only sleeping now, only dreaming of death. Maybe he’s a part of that dream.

Another light- this one from behind, away from the massive arched doorways and deeper into the temple- makes the shadows that cling desperately to the crags and crevices dance in confusion. A great stone idol falls to pieces in pathetic mimicry of the behemoth it signified. He closes his eyes again, listening to the voices of Dormin echoing in his head as the light pours down from the open atrium overhead.

Thy next foe is...
A guardian set loose, a closed-off city beyond the channel...
It lusts for destruction....

And then they are gone; the light abating to it’s more usual but still unnatural brightness in the eternal day. It’s always light, but it feels dull- like sunlight through dust or fog though the sky is always clear- and lacks any warmth to it's touch. He makes an attempt to rise, but his legs may as well be lead or dead stone like the colossi he’s toppled. Even the air feels heavy, sliding over his skin like an uncomfortable oily film.

He’s grown to resent his mortal limitations, cursing himself as his vision swims with exhaustion. Time seems a foreign concept here, but surely it hasn’t been so long since his last necessary sleep stolen in the shadows of one of the little shrines. He cannot rest now, cannot waste any time.

The girl, the gods, the mountains await.

“Agro,” he chokes out, remembering to forget or forgetting to remember how his own breath rattles uncomfortably, unfamiliarly, in his chest and how his voice doesn’t seem his own anymore. He swallows through a sore, dry throat and tries again, shaking and faltering his way to hands and knees. “Agro.”

Hooves click across the stone, the shadow of the eternally loyal horse mercifully blocking the harsh light from unfocused eyes. Reins slide across his shoulders as Agro snuffles almost anxiously into his hair, the end of the leather trailing through the dust. He grabs weakly at them, again forgetting the strange new markings faintly tracing the skin of his hands. And he pulls himself up with Agro’s head pushing lightly at his chest in affection or concern. Or maybe he’s just desperately alone and hoping the animal has such sentiments for him.

Fingers twist in the horse’s course mane, arms around the thick neck as he leans onto his steed for support while the temple spins and his legs shake under his own weight, the weight of the statues and his promise, his price. Again he grabs the reins, unnecessary but comforting and familiar, pointing Agro towards the rear of the temple and leaning against his horse’s ribs as they walk away from Mono’s altar. He’s fallen through shadows to here thirteen times, and thirteen statues are crumbled to dust on either side of the aisle. And to fall three more times and break three more statues seems an impossible number.

The water of the shallow pool is always fresh and he buries his hands in it, watching dirt and dried blood fall away to settle on the bottom. After long minutes his hands are slow and numb and he dunks his head beneath the water. It’s freezing, fills his mouth and nose and he pulls back gasping for air with hair plastered to his cheeks. His hands are useless so he shakes his head to clear his eyes, turning to leave again before he can catch his reflection because he knows it will not be his own.

And he walks the aisle again, stumbling towards the light of these forbidden lands, forgetting to remember there are still three mountains to move.

It is only Agro’s loyalty and patience that keeps him from toppling down the steep rocky steps of the temple, blinking in the unforgiving direct sunlight. Despite his wounds and weariness he pulls himself into the saddle as easily as someone coming home.

Everything is silent until he raises his sword to the light to point way and nudges Agro forward, hooves thudding against the dirt. The sun lays motionless in the sky at constant zenith, and he briefly wonders which way west, and the sunset that never comes, should be. He takes a breath, feeling it shudder in his lungs, and slides his sword into its sheath when he’s confident they’re holding the right direction. As Agro eats the miles at an easy trot, he wonders when this day will end, and where- what- he will be at the end of it.

[Netreemic]

Had to work it out of my system...apologies. Back story on Loni's limp. *whisper* He's the one with the A name...

[Note: Warning (?) physical damage ahead...]

Master Passion Greed - Nightwish *Roughly~

The twilight world was filled with fire and screams. The flames hungrily lapping up the ancient trees did little to light the landscape, creating more agonized shadows than illumination. Each groaning tree was echoed in the tumult of painful and gleeful shrieks of the writhing bodies dancing through the darkness. On the rim of the fire, two figures scrabbled through the twisted roots and smoking dirt. One man glanced back, firelight eliciting a cat’s eye glow from his terror filled gaze.

A whoop rose up, slavering mouths dropping open as the prey was sighted once more. As the hairy bodies threw themselves over bush and boulder, some glowing where their furred legs had become sizzling coals, the other man twisted around with his hand flung out. The skin was ruptured from blacked fingertip to his elbow, blood snapping and sizzling as another bolt of Hellfire ripped its way out of his body. Rage filled howls quickly filled the vacuum created by the blast and only grew as more of the creatures leapt over the ashes of their companions to find the prey vanished once more.

The din barely reached the men over their labored breathing. Alternating to grab the other when he collapsed, tripped, or slowed, the pair sucked down the ever-cooling air. Blinking against the blood plastering his hair across his gashed forehead and trailing into his eyes in sweat soaked clumps, Euandros bit his cheek against the shout as his shoulder clipped an unseen tree. Fire blackened nails dug into his arm to wrench him forward once more and stayed imbedded even as the hand jerked away to pull its owner over the broken earth.

Fearful to look back and give their position away again, Euandros let out a strangled grunt as he noticed just how easy it was to scramble in Aban’s wake over the moss-covered boulders. The breath streamed out of the other man in a glowing cloud and flung an orange light over the forest floor. As weak as it was in comparison to the raging wild fire they had left behind, it blazed in the deep blackness.

The grunt escalated into a ragged yelp as a hand tightened around his ankle and jerked Euandros face first into the musty cushion of decomposing leaves. Glancing back even as he kicked out his other foot, his heart leapt at the deranged smile gleaming in the orange glow. His sandaled foot connected solidly, sending the horned head snapping back, but not soon enough to destroy the image of the bloody, goat-slit eyes burning with madness and lust. Gods damned satyrs.

Then Aban was pulling him again, feverously hot grasp smarting against his skin. Erratic gasps mixed with rasped whispers Together-Get out together-Not going to-Not leave behind grated against his ears. The last piece of his hope sparked at the sound, lunging steps pushing harder and digging deeper. From the corner of his eye he saw a darting shape, monstrously larger than the shrieking horde spreading out behind. It was ghostly white, the bare slip of moonlight bringing the elegant twist of horns, long bearded muzzle, and broad chest to sharp relief before it faded back with a wicked wink.

The rock hit his skull a second later, blood blossoming in his mouth as his chin connected with his chest, teeth sinking deep into his tongue. The dirt rushed up slower and faster than he could imagine, white sparks exploding across his vision to attack the blurry grayness. His face slammed into the dirt, arms reacting disjointedly from his mind’s commands. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t hurt. The only thing that did was the throbbing pain boring from the base of his skull to his right eye like a heated poker had been rammed through. He wanted to reach out, to form the words don’t leave me here, but he couldn’t even breath past the blood.

The seconds passed as an eternity of discombobulated floating, the shaft of pain acting as the center of the dazedly spinning world. But the empty world kept jolting and soon crumbled to reveal an upside down back. The world shook again and as gravity pulled his gut into a bony shoulder, even his brain could assimilate that he had been slung over someone’s shoulder. His eyes drunkenly tracked the glistening skin, watching the way the muscles rippled to expose stark ribs with each breath, and cataloging scars that only his pain blown pupils could read in the darkness. The brief glimpse of bare and bloodied feet pounding against the earth – not hooves, not furred – assuaged his last fearful thought before he dropped back beneath the waves of consciousness.

In the comforting darkness, Euandros did not see the break in the trees. He did not feel the flutter of exhilarating relief that sped Aban almost to flight as he hurtled through the thinning brush. He did not see the cliff and hundreds of empty feet of air looming. Nor the bellow of a beastly god not used to loosing the hunt or being denied his desires. If he had opened his eyes, he would have seen the massive furred arm snapping from the shadows to claw the air inches from his nose. His ears were not filled with the feral cry of fear, desperation, and triumph that thundered through the body beneath him as a bloodied toes curled around the broken edge of rock. His mind floating in the haze of unconsciousness did not get to experience the true sensation of disembodiment - the gut wrenching moment of free fall where space and gravity were blasted from reality as their bodies floated suspended in emptiness.

A reality that sunk in its fangs once more, ripping flight from those without wings. The rocky edge of the unnatural meadow created by the butchering of the old forest rushed up, wind screaming bloody murder. Aban’s arms tightened around his friend, tears rushing from his eyes to dance away mockingly over his head. Euandros may not have seen, but Aban saw every boulder, rock and pebble with wide, burning eyes. Felt the top most rock, the one below and all the way to the earth’s core. Heard the dull snap followed by an angry hornets’ nest of sharp popping blasts as his left leg slowly compacted, dark skin rippling for the barest of seconds. Then his scream caught up, ripping from his chest as bone clawed its way forth, twisting, biting and stabbing his flesh to pulp.

Soundless sobs choked his frame, Euandros spilling to rest among the rocks, sickening echoes beating against Aban’s mind. Oily laughter wove through the stillness and he answered with a defiant scream, blackened hands burning once more and latching around the mutilated limb. Bones shrieked back into place and joints groaned as they were forcibly straightened. Aban shut his eyes, mind’s eye opening to shoot along his body, seeking and repairing the cracks splintering his skeleton from head to toe. Inner Hellfire worked quick and dirty, fusing bone broken like a pane of glass. His lower leg was a mess, caught between the upward surge of his foot and downward plunge of his body, and a garbled plea escaped his mouth as he forced it together and melded it into a rough imitation. Toes twitching spastically in response to the tugs on the damaged muscles, rusty red eyes rolled back and a wash of whiteness rushed through his awareness.

Aban bit his lip, nearly severing it with the ferocity as he fought himself. Snapping back to awareness, he leveled his body back to his feet and lifted Euandros once again before his mind could catch up and argue truth to his irrational will. His intellect had no place in the brightening dawn as he ran awkwardly through the pungent grasses. It could whisper that the added weight was causing more damage, but all he acknowledged was the distance falling away between his beaten body and the city, home safe get there together. Limping steps, every other lanced with blazing pain, fell from his attention as low walls grew up around on all sides, pale stones glowing warmly in the first flashes of light. The few people already out faded to his periphery as he focused on the house at end of the street and crossed its entrance with his next jittering step. Home.

Aban crashed through the wall, shoulder popping loose as he slammed to a halt against a second, and much thicker, one. Barely registering the action, he could only blink dumbly as he was levered up against the dented plaster. Only stare in confusion at the pale arm connected to the earth caked hand tightened around his throat. A daze that lasted just long enough for his eyes to widen in horror and mouth drop open in soundless anguish. Slit eyes pinned him to the wall with greater force than the arm, the god grinning maliciously from within his friend.

“Nothing gets away from me.”

[Netreemic]

[Sorry I've been in a writing funk and instead of getting back to useful posts I do this~ Hawk asked about certain things pertaining to these folk and this kind of exploded out of half formed 'well, there's this one time Loni ends up in Russia..." thoughts. And Ilari speaks rather colorfully - can modify if he offends.]

Started as a fill for Sweet Surrender and expanded to John Denver Song Title Spree!!!
~I don’t know where I’m goin’, I’m not sure where I’ve been~



It’s About Time someone did something about him…

Absalon dipped his foot into the tepid pool, the night song of frogs echoing off the motel. The fountain was no longer spraying water, so his movements were the only disruption marring the surface. Normally, the twilight hours of solitude would not have appealed to him, but the over abundance of humanity during the day was simply too much. Too much air in the balloon, battery in need of discharge…take your pick of metaphors. He breathed deep, the cloying taste of heat and rotting plants still present but dimmed. It felt nice to simply exist for a moment.

“Boss!” He sighed. So much for that.

“Boss, you’ve gotta get out of here!” He blinked at the young man sprinting around the pool. “You’re too old, too powerful and they’re pissed!” Loni raised his hands in a placating gesture to still Rasmussen’s agitated rant as he stumbled to a stop.

“Wha-”

“You were neutral before.” Ras’ expression, once he caught his breath, snapped from strained distress to wild-eyed rage. “But you helped an Ancient Evil get out of the country and hid it! Played fucking HOUSE with it! People died!” All confused bemusement drained from Absalon, leaving only a frigid glare.

“He saved my life, only fair too return the favor. And the Great Powers can shove it up their collective rear if they think they can dictate my li-”

“But YOU shoved it up-” His frantic words flowed into a high-pitched scream as something filled the once empty air. The tiles beneath Absalon cracked into a spider web of splinters, fragments lifting into the stillness. Dark blood welled from wide eyes that stared at the suddenly blinding heavens.

Blinking spots from his vision, Rasmussen rose from his crouch. Frog song once more reverberated through the pool area, intensifying its emptiness.

“Boss?”

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Sticky Summer Weather and unnatural weather patterns therein…

Golden stalks drooped in the heat, the drone of bugs working up to a dull roar. But they gave Ilari wide berth where he crouched on the ground, broken remains of wheat flattened beneath his feet. Hail the size of pebbles gleamed in the glaring sunlight and created a nearly perfect circle. A many-faceted diamond pressed into the earth.

He tipped his sunglasses back on his head and let out a frost-whitened breath. Leaning back onto his heels, he remained crouched next to the frozen body. His frown eased back into its well-worn lines.

“This is going to be a bother.”

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Back Home Again in someone else’s house…

Waking up had been a very bad idea. Having a hot iron rammed through your nose and swirled in your brain, basically, was not a good morning. Tears streamed from his eyes, he tried to hold back his moans, worried about any vibrations causing more pain. He blinked rapidly, hand rising shakily to lightly rub at them. He hissed as the pressure redoubled his splitting headache. His other hand reached out to feel the surface he was laying on. It seemed to be a countertop, his head having been pillowed on…a loaf of bread.

Sitting up brought on another wave of dizzying pain. Digging his nails into his arm seemed to deflect the pain a little bit, allowing his vision to clear - bringing the man staring at him from across the room into bleary focus.

“кто - Вы?” He tried to decipher the sounds, fingers grazing his ears to check for physical damage. Ears were for hearing, brain (no matter how dazed) for comprehension, yet neither seemed to be fulfilling their task.

“Cou-” he cringe slowly, head ducking, “Could youwahh…repeat that?”

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

What’s on Your Mind because I’ve got no friggin’ clue what you’re saying…

Ilari tilted his head, surprised at the babble. He only knew two languages. And his Portuguese had gotten a little rusty. Fat chance this is going to go easily. He growled quietly, annoyance growing already. Bad enough the dead guy he’d dumped on his seldom-touched kitchen counter was alive, but a foreigner as well.

“I’m going to call you Ed.” He rolled his eyes and settled his weight more comfortably against the floating island. “And I guess conversation is pointless. Damn,” he chucked a rag hard into the washbasin. The other man flinched. He grimaced, ducking his head and raising his hands. “Look Ed, not gonna hurt you. I can guess what you are. Takes one to know one after all. Just…which one, is another question.” Green eyes squinted, studying the other’s dazed features.

Sighing again, Ilari walked over and made shooing motions. “Might as well move your not-dead ass to the couch.” The man looked like a raccoon caught in headlights, fingers clamped on the edge of the pitted wood. Scraping his hand through his hair in frustration, Ilari tapped the man’s chest. “Ed.” Tap tap. “Ed. Move over there.” He tapped again before swinging his finger toward the door leading to the living room. “Ilari.” He tapped his own chest. He repeated the ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’ mantra twice more, much to the man’s continued befuddlement.

“Ah, c’mon. Scootch." He grabbed Ed’s arm and suddenly…felt horrible. He barely registered the darker man crashing his skull into the cabinets, giving off a strangled gurgle. Instead he slid to his knees, mind suddenly filled with images of her. Leaving for days, weeks, giving him that look. No one in the forest except him and the fire. The empty expanse. Things never last. Everyone leaves. He yanked his hand away, stumbling back and eventually crashing out the back door.

-----
All of My Memories are buried for a reason…

Two hours later saw him standing awkwardly in the middle of his kitchen, peering beneath his table. And the man tucked deep beneath it. Annoyingly, it was inset into the wall like any good breakfast nook and made it all that much harder to pry him out. “Look, man, how ‘bout you come out from under there.”

“No.” Ilari dropped down to a crouch, surprise etched on his scarred face.

“Uh, so now you’re speaking my language?”

“No. No. No.” He watched the dark man rock back and forth. Jeez, I thought I was the traumatized one, what with the past being dredged up there. He edged forward a few more steps. Must be another fledgling, one the higher ups wanted to fuck with. He clearly doesn’t understand how it works…or how to hold back. He grimaced at that and levered himself up. It seemed to be the day to remember the worst days of his early life.

“Well, whatever. I’m going to bed….HOLY HELL!” He would have blasted across the kitchen if the dark fingers weren’t clutching his jeans so tight. The hand let go just as fast, snapping back under the table. Heart still thundering, he crouched down again, face tight with anger. “Little man, I do not have the patience to deal with this shit. I am going to leave this room, whether you like it or not. Now, you can follow me or stay under the damn table. Or I can just kick you out, save me the trouble of dealing with your sorry ass.” Seriously tempting that. He really didn’t know why he was bothering.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Grandma’s Feather Bed doesn’t hold a candle to COUCH…

Despite the buzzing state of his mind, slowly, this was making a little more sense. He just let the noise wash over him, all of it barely contained annoyance. Clearly, his current status under the table was not appreciated. Nor had the grabbing been. But…being alone, it had suddenly been unbelievably terrifying. He felt full to the brim with it, worried that this stranger wouldn’t come back. He untangled his limbs and crawled out. The man stood up without another word, eyebrow quirking above his sunglasses and left the kitchen. He limped behind, hoping that he was not doing something annoying again, gaze darting to take in the surroundings.

“Sons dis.” He looked away from the faintly clicking cuckoo clock to find the man gesturing at a worn plaid couch. Looking between the man and the couch, he nodded quickly before seating himself on the edge of the battered cushion. The tan man nodded in turn, shifting back a few steps towards what he could only assume was a bedroom.

“Ilari.” He smiled as the man turned again, reacting to the word. Looked like it had been the man’s name. So…that other sound. He pointed at himself, eyebrows raised. “Ed?” He felt a little confused at the man’s shrug, but it was more than he had so he nodded back with firm assurance. “Ed.” Ilari smiled crookedly at that…and still left the room. The clock gave a mellow tone, a couple small figures ducking out and speeding about. He watched their little dances, wooden arms reaching for each other before twirling away. Defeated and dead tired, he flopped sideways.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

This Old Guitar seems to have a mind of its own…

Ilari frowned, wishing he had the will power to ignore the need to go check on his ward. He snorted at the thought, still surprised things had happened how they had. Smoke rose around his head, a quasi-halo of cigarette smoke. Clock parts lay scattered across the table, being quickly assimilated into the half-repaired device. He had been set on just throwing the broken thing out, but every time he did it mysteriously reappeared on the wall. Annoyed, though arguably amused, he had given in and set to fixing the blasted thing. Seemed like a couple months hanging out with it had made Ed overly fond. Ilari shook his head at that. Ed seemed fond of just about everything, most of it garbage. He’d lit some of it on fire, just to finally be rid of it. It…had not been a good week after that. It was like the anchor had been lost and his strange squatter had floated listlessly. Freaky that.

He chewed on the end of his smoke, eyes worriedly glancing up into the forest. The idiot was really bad with time. Three hours late already. It had become a bit of a norm, but he could never be sure if it was one of the bad days. The darker man would descend into some techno babble, scribbling down spattered numbers and equations, or just stare at the wall with sunken eyes. Watch, today was the day he’d forget the way home. Against all odds, it hadn’t happened yet, but…

With a groan, he tossed his tools down and got up from the creaky bench. Taking the goat path (not that he had goats anymore…he had found one thing Ed did not like when the man went ballistic on them) he vaguely remembered Ed heading down, Ilari stomped into the forest. Wildlife scattered from his path, flurry of wing beats filling the air. It was amazing that birds stayed so close, what with him igniting them randomly and the cats feeding on them daily. But, underneath the rustle of plumage and paws, he heard the gentle cascade of…a guitar? Confused frown stretching his long face, he ducked through some low hanging branches.

Sitting on a rock next to a thin stream, Ed sat plucking at the guitar, face turned into the sunbeams. Ilari stood back for a moment, hands settling on his hips. For a guy with no memory, Ed pulls a lot outta his ass. It was a rather nice tune, one he hadn’t heard before. Lilting, yet…a bit sad, like nostalgia with a hint of bitterness. Played far too well for a guy who Ilari had never seen so much as look at a guitar. He watched the other frown as he hummed, mouth half forming words but finding nothing definite. Maybe he was remembering things. Maybe he’d be out of Ilari’s hair soon, back to his stupid life that landed him here in the first place. Green eyes narrowed.

“Hey, food was done an hour ago. I ate already, but your half is pretty damn cold. You might wanna eat it before it goes bad.” Eyes rolling up, he let out a growl of annoyance as the other continued plucking. “What the hell are you playing anyways? You steal that?” Ed shook his head slowly, eyes closed as he leaned closer to the guitar.

“Marian lent it to me. She said ‘music is good therapy.’” Ilari shifted uncomfortably as those rusty eyes opened, looking tired for a moment before they squinted in a smile. Scarred fingers rolled into another tune, half-assed smile stretching cattily. Voice raising above the streaming water, he sang out, “Sunshine~ on my shoooooooulders….makes me happyyyyyyyyyyy~”

“None of that goofy American music,” Ilari growled, chucking a twig at the laughing man. He stomped forward to rope an arm around the other’s waist and yanked him off the rock, ignoring the cries to be careful. “Now you are going to come eat, so I can get something done today. And you are going to start helping in the shop, what with your Russian improving. Getting back to normal life, that’s the best therapy.”

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Friends With You despite all your faults…which are many. <3

The yard circling the cabin was filled with crab grass and dry dirt, but lying there in the sunlight with a new tabby curled up in the small of his back Ed couldn’t be any happier. Last week he had bribed the stream’s nymph to return false information to Ilari’s inquiry regarding his past. Not that he knew what equated to false. But seriously, he had a limp and bunches of scars. Basking in the sunlight beat whatever he had had, hands down.

He sneezed as boots scuffed to a stop, puffing up a cloud of dust. His head rose from where it was pillowed on his arms, the cat shifting and kneading along his spine.

“A hairdresser from Denver huh?” He laughed sharply, causing the tabby to jump off with a disgruntled mrrrrrow. “It isn’t funny. I do not appreciate obstructions. We could already know everything if you weren’t buying Karga off with music.”

“She could have been a little more subtle, I must admit.” His smiled dimmed beneath the intense glare, voice lowering. “If you’d like me to leave, you could just say so. Faster solution.”

“I fixed your clock.” Ed rolled to his side as Ilari continued to glower down. At times like these, he wished his friend was not so hard to read…or that his emotions would move outside the regions of Angry.

“Am I supposed to take that as ‘Yes, get lost, our time together is at an end’ or ‘No Ed, I want you to stay forever’ type of hint?” He tried to keep his tone light, but the thrum had started deep within his bones. It was the fear that had washed through him the first day he had woken here, mind empty and alone but for a stranger. Alone…cast out…unwanted.

Ilari’s frown deepened. “Neither. I finished the clock and I’d like you to stop fucking around.” His shoulders rolled in a shrug, sawdust rising in a cloud from his rumpled t-shirt.

“I’m not.” Ed grunted as he sat up and brushed grass from his arms with agitated swipes, rusty eyes narrowing. Ilari’s interest in hunting down his forgotten past never let his anxiety fade. “Can’t you just drop it? I don’t want to-”

“Fine.” He looked up in surprise, reflexively taking the proffered hand.

“Just like that?” Standing, he still had to tip his head back to search for sincerity in Ilari’s long face.

“Not like I really gave a crap.” A slight curl lifted the corner of Ilari’s mouth before clamping down on a new cigarette.

Ed smiled, eyes crinkling as they walked back towards the house. “Hate you too.”