Thoughts on the Insignificant

CoH Part 2

2012-01-07T06:58:00.001-05:00

Well, my girlfriend suggested I put whatever I've done of CoH up daily, so that I don't lose it a fourth time. Daily might be a bit of a stretch, but I suppose if I've done anything substantial (probably 500 words or better) by the end of the day, it's better to do this than to just leave them and hope nothing happens. So uhh here is this thing.

After the party, I went home, drowned my disappointment in some harder liquor, and tried to forget about Avian.

To say my attempt was unsuccessful would be an understatement: even after the night had long passed, I kept finding myself wondering about him. Where was he? Was he okay? Why had he seemed so damn scared? I wasn’t one of the more intimidating men on the planet, after all; I was tall and perhaps broader than average, but for the most part, my lengthy limbs didn’t have much strength behind them. Even if I had wanted to hurt Avian, I wouldn’t have posed much of a threat...

But why would Avian even think I would want to? I wouldn’t dream of it. I’d been dreaming of much different things—of holding Avian, dancing with him again, even just being near him would be enough at this point. I had never really had a crush of this calibre before, nothing so quickly or entirely consuming that I couldn’t learn to ignore it. But this was different, somehow; I felt like I needed to see Avian again.

Still, months passed with no sign of the beautiful, mysterious man. It was starting to seem like he had never even existed. I’d talked to Kael about it briefly, but he wasn’t sympathetic; there was no way anyone could possibly understand why I was so determined if they had never met Avian. There was just something about him that was captivating.

It was well into December. I was walking home from class, my mind to myself, when I spotted a figure leaning against a pole a block ahead. Normally, I would have thought nothing of it, but the sight of bare arms made me do a double-take: it was below freezing temperature outside, with a thick layer of snow over the ground, and I was freezing my ass off in a thick coat and scarf. Upon closer look, the body didn’t appear to be moving, and there was no bus stop nearby that I could recall. My brow furrowed as I approached, suddenly recognising the figure. It was him... I nearly forgot to breathe as excitement welled in my chest.

“Avian,” I called, but there was no response; he didn’t even move a muscle. I quickened my pace to a jog, calling his name again with the same lack of luck. It wasn’t until I was nearly close enough to touch him that I realised why he wasn’t responding: he was completely unconscious, propped up against the pole. Hesitantly, I placed my hands on his shoulders and shook him, but he didn’t stir. “Oh, come on, Av,” I muttered, looking around. I wasn’t sure if I could get in trouble for stealing an unconscious boy off the streets, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. On the other hand, having someone around to help me carry him back to my apartment might have been nice.

I looped his limp arms around my neck before winding my own arms around his waist. He was even slimmer than he looked, I recalled now; he bordered on unhealthily thin. He was more easily lifted than I’d anticipated, and I carted him off the ground and into my arms. His head rested lightly against my shoulder, black strands of hair falling across his face. It took almost everything I had not to kiss him again, but I knew better than to take advantage of this moment with no guard.

Even though he wasn’t heavy, I still wasn’t fit. By the time we’d reached my door, my arms were beginning to ache, and I could do little more than kick at the door and pray that Kael was listening.

Luckily, my prayer was quickly answered as the door swung open. “What the hell?” immediately spilled out of Kael’s mouth.

“Don’t ask; just help me get him on the couch,” I muttered.

Obediently, Kael also latched onto Avian, and we lowered him to the floor before carting him to the couch. We laid him down, and Kael bustled off to grab a blanket. As he returned, drawing the blanket around Avian’s shoulders, I pulled up a chair next to the still-unconscious form. I brushed my fingers across his calm face, dusting over his freckles. I couldn’t help but smile.

Unfortunately, Kael apparently wanted an explanation. “So?” he all but demanded, although his voice was quiet. His fingers tapped against his thigh, and I sighed; there was no getting around this.

“I found him outside,” I explained.

“Like this?” he asked, gesturing to Avian. I nodded, and he frowned. “You could have called for help.”

I struggled to find a legitimate reason I hadn’t—in reality, the thought merely hadn’t occurred to me. How could I have stopped to call for help, when I could help him myself? All I wanted was to take care of him and watch over him; he was too sweet not to care for.

Eventually, I realised I had absolutely nothing to say that would excuse myself, and I merely replied, “I didn’t think of it...”

“What do you mean, you didn’t think of it?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Kael,” I sighed. “It’s... complicated.”

“Complicated?”

I ran my hand back through my hair. “Do you remember me telling you about that guy I met at the party?”

“Wait, wait, this is him? I thought he’d be...”

“Thought he’d be what?” I urged, bristling a little.

“I don’t know. More lively?”

“He’s unconscious,” I pointed out dryly. “How lively can you expect him to be?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed back. “It just feels weird.”

“What does?”

“Having an unconscious person in the apartment doesn’t seem just a bit strange to you?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but my voice fled at the sound of a quiet groan from the couch’s springs as Avian shifted. His hazel eyes were open, dulled slightly by his bout of sleep, and he’d raised himself to sit. He was clutching the blanket around his arms, though it didn’t seem he’d figured out where he was.

“I don’t...” His eyes narrowed at me. “You’re... you’re that guy, from the party. Glenn.”

He remembered me... I cleared my throat to hide how much that affected me. “Yeah,” I said. “You were outside in the cold. I couldn’t leave you there.”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“Why not,” I repeated. “You might have frozen to death.”

Avian only looked away, pulling the blanket tighter, and an awkward silence reigned. I didn’t know what else to say, particularly with Kael still hovering nearby, and Avian was clearly done talking to me. I couldn’t say I blamed him much; he had wanted to stay away from me, regardless of how I felt about the matter. He probably worried that I was going to become some sort of crazed stalker. It was probably not too far-fetched a fear, I supposed, with as strongly as I had come onto him previously, and considering the fact I’d brought him, unconscious, into my home.

Okay...

2011-12-14T00:43:00.000-05:00

So I know I'm not the easiest person to talk to when I'm depressed.
I know that I turn down everything anyone says,
Or I lash out unnecessarily,
Or I simply refuse to respond if I don't feel like it.
But that's all just a defense mechanism,
Because I don't know how to explain what I feel.
I don't know how to tell you that I'm not happy, when there's no reason I shouldn't be.
I don't know how to ask for you to be supportive or make me feel better, because I don't think that's your job.
So I just sulk and pretend I don't want someone to walk me through it,
But that doesn't mean I don't,
I promise.
So just once... even if I act like it doesn't help...
Can't someone at least ask if I'm going to be okay? Or if there's anything they can do? Instead of just saying, "Oh, well, I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow."
I don't want you to talk to me tomorrow...
I want you to talk to me now...

/emo rant over.

The Forgotten Generation: Chapter Seven

2011-11-13T00:42:00.000-05:00

The Forgotten Generation

Chapter Six: A Thug and a Bird

“I get the uncomfortable feeling he hates me. I guess it isn’t something unusual that I should be dwelling on. Who doesn’t hate me?”

--taken from the diary of Shelley Underwood, age 18.

Shelley gave a hesitant, tight-lipped smile to the boy across from her. He looked like he could easily snap her in two and not give it a second thought. If she had to describe him in one word, it would be “intimidating,” and she could tell that he knew that. His arms were crossed over his chest as he slouched in the desk. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to look intense or apathetic, but whatever it was, he was definitely succeeding.

“Well.” Shelley jumped when she heard Mr. Vaughn’s voice, ordering that they, “Talk.” What was there for Rainer and her to talk about?

“Um—hi, I’m Shelley,” she stammered.

The guy rolled his shoulders and replied simply, “Rainer.”

"Um... it's nice to meet you," Shelley said politely, or at least as politely as she could manage; Rainer freaked her out, a lot. She'd never been more nervous to be around someone-- well, except for Mr. Vaughn, that was. That was a whole different sort of nervousness, however: she was shy around Mr. Vaughn because of her knee-weakening, heart-pounding crush on him, but she was terrified of Rainer because she felt that one wrong step might be the last move she would get to make in this lifetime.

Rainer swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing. Shelley was almost surprised that it wasn't as audible as it was visible, with as dramatic as the movement was. She wondered if everything about this huge guy was this intense. Thinking back on her earlier first impression, she corrected it: "intimidating" wasn't the perfect word so much as "intense" was. He was like a typhoon or a forest fire, unstoppable and natural and wild. She wondered, then, how someone as calm and complacent as Quincy had befriended him. They were as opposite as night and day, from her perspective; if Rainer was a natural disaster waiting to happen, then Quincy was the earth waiting to be consumed or destroyed. Their friendship, or relationship if it was more, as she distantly heard Madeline Nelson suggest, didn't seem the sort of unlikely that would be all the stronger for its absurdity; it seemed unlikely because there was no good that could come of it.

Then again, Shelley supposed she had to accept that Quincy knew Rainer better than she did. If he had faith that the scary thug wouldn't bring him any harm, then she would simply have to have faith in Quincy's judgement. Besides, if he weren't the type to give everyone a chance-- even the more intimidating and intense ones, such as Rainer, then Shelley didn't think she would have been granted the same courtesy. It was something she tried not to dwell on, but most of her peers didn't give her a chance to explain or prove herself. She couldn't bring herself to blame Quincy for being able to see past image (both hers and his) and attempt to be her friend even despite her countless faults.

"So, what's your deal?" Rainer asked eventually.

"Umm... I don't think I follow. What do you mean?"

"I mean, why are you here?" Rainer asked, gesturing around them at the classroom. "Vaughn said something about being out of place or whatever. I know Park's-- Quincy's," he corrected, realising that he was the only one to call the blond by his middle name, "Reason, and I know why I'm here, so I'm just wondering what's up with you. How did you piss off everyone?"

Shelley dropped her eyes. "I don't think I 'pissed off' everyone," she protested weakly. "I'm just not very well-liked, I guess... I don't know if you've noticed, but the others aren't exactly fond of anyone who isn't Madeline-perfect."

Rainer raised an eyebrow. "You got a problem with the Queen?"

Shelley, for her part, only shrugged. She didn't have too much of a problem, to be honest. A part of her was simply jealous. It never seemed that Madeline worked to look good, with her hair, her makeup, or her body, and yet everyone worshipped the ground that she walked on. Shouldn't they praise the hard effort someone put into being beautiful, instead of just extolling the virtues of chance and good genes?

Rainer chuckled. "You know, I think just about everyone has a problem with her, so don't feel too out of place."

Shelley's eyes snapped to him. "You think so?"

"Well, I damn well know I don't like her, and I've got a pretty good feeling Parker ain't all that into her, and it's pretty hard to make an enemy out of him without doing anything. I mean, just look at us-- he spends all his time with me. If he can handle my temper, he can handle just about anyone else. Except that Madeline chick."

Shelley turned in her seat to look at Quincy, only to see Madeline getting up. Apparently, she was leaving already. Didn't she understand how lucky she was to have Mr. Vaughn spending his valuable time on her? Surely he had a family to return to-- she hadn't missed the wedding band that adorned his finger, practically mocking the futility of her crush on a daily basis-- but instead, he was staying after school to help his students, the ones whom no one else would help. Shelley found that even more endearing than anything else he had done so far...

"Yes, I suppose I may have made that mistake with all of you… It’s clear you all want to go home, so if you’re ready to leave for the day, I won’t stop you. But we’re going to have another meeting next Wednesday."

Shelley offered as bright a smile as she could muster, as the others filtered out of the room. "Of course, Mr. Vaughn," she replied; it seemed that no one else was willing to give him that courtesy, and she figured that she could be nice. How else was she going to get on his good side? Not that she thought she could win him over enough. She knew that Mr. Vaughn wasn't the type to cheat on his wife, with whom he was probably hopelessly in love. Still, that didn't stop her from wishing or planning, in her delirious, teenage girl brain. Some days, hope was the only thing that kept her going. If she would relinquish that so willingly, then what would she have? Nothing.

"Are you ready to go home?"

Shelley jumped a bit, her muddy green eyes looking to the other senior she hadn't even noticed in the room. She wasn't sure how she had forgotten, seeing as Fayola had gotten the seat that Shelley had been wishing and hoping for. She tried to fool herself into thinking that choosing her would have been favouritism, although she didn't particularly believe that in the least. Still, it helped to ease the slight disappointment just a little bit.

"Um, yeah, sure," Shelley agreed, with one last wistful glance to her English teacher. "Goodbye, Mr. Vaughn," she said, trying not to let the adoration seep into her words. "We'll see you tomorrow!"

As they began walking, Shelley lingered slightly behind Fayola, her green eyes trained on her figure, even though it was hidden beneath the fabric of a traditional, ethnic dress, the name of which Shelley never quite remembered. Fayola had told her numerous times what it was, but Shelley had a habit of only remembering things that were close to her heart. While Fayola was her best friend, and a companion Shelley treasured greatly, the name of whatever garment draped across her was not quite important enough to her.

Fayola's figure wasn't particularly well-defined, but it wasn't indistinguishable, either. She was round without being plump, curvy without necessarily being "fat." She still was on the heavier side compared to girls such as Madeline-- or Shelley, especially-- but it didn't detract from her beauty. In her old village, as she had again told Shelley time and time again, heavier women were considered to be the most beautiful of all of them. After all, for a woman to gain weight, she had to eat; being "overweight" was actually a sign of wealth and health, as well as fertility. Since being in America, food had been easier to come by, and Fayola had gained some weight. It wasn't enough yet to be unhealthy, but it was enough that some of the students had begun to tease her about her weight.

Shelley actually thought she was quite beautiful, even despite her weight, however. She would have made a great poster child for the beautiful, ethnic villages that dotted the landscape of Africa. Not to mention the fact that, although she obviously tried to rein in her pride during school hours to prevent further teasing, Fayola loved her background and where she had come from. While most kids Shelley had met were more interested in "getting out" of wherever they were, Fayola would have much preferred to stay in the land that she had known her whole life. It was admirable, in a sense, the patriotism she could have for a place that was often considered "uncivilised" or "savage."

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Fayola asked after a while.

"Hmm? With Rainer?"

"Yes; he seemed to... be kinder with you."

Shelley pressed her lips together as she thought back. "Yeah... I guess he was a little bit nicer," she agreed. "I wouldn't say it was fun, though. It was pretty awkward... I don't know how Quincy does it all the time." She shook her head; Fayola didn't approve of talking bad about anyone, even when they deserved it. "I guess he wasn't as bad as I thought he was, though."

Fayola's dark brown eyes were soon trained on Shelley. Was this what Mr. Vaughn had meant? He had gathered a motley crew of misunderstood individuals who were poorly treated-- regardless of their status in the school, apparently, since even Madeline was there-- and allowed them to interact. She knew that they had misconceptions of each other already, even while they knew how painful it was to be judged. Perhaps, as they realised each other had merit beyond what the eye could see, they would be able to understand that they were just as guilty of judging as they were of being judged.

It was a far-fetched thing to hope for, but Fayola found herself siding with Mr. Vaughn. It would be difficult for them to set aside their differences and to work anything at all out, especially where it came to each other, but maybe in the end it would be worth it. There was only one way to find out, though, and that was to wait and see how it all played out in the end.

"Oh," Shelley said suddenly, "This is my stop." She didn't wait for a response from Fayola before she darted off down another road. Sighing, Fayola shook her head. One thing was for certain, though: no one had been wrong in calling Shelley Underwood absent-minded.

Shelley cast her gaze back over her shoulder as she approached a small, abandoned-looking house. It was overgrown with weeds, and the wooden porch was beginning to rot. Light grey paint was peeling form the wooden door that still stood guard even after all these years. It wasn't much, and Shelley hated everything about it, but it was home-- and it was cheap. Her family couldn't afford anything more.

She scoffed at the idea of that: family. Ever since her parents had divorced, she had been on her own. Sure, she lived with her father, but he no longer supported them. Instead, Shelley had been forced to grow up much too quickly and support the very man who had raised her.

She wondered about that sometimes, though. The broken shell of a man, the body that so often lay on the couch, unmoving, was not the same man that she remembered once upon a time. The divorce had thoroughly ruined him. It had never been explained to her why exactly it was carried out, but she knew that the feelings that it should end were not mutual; when her father was drunk or high (or both), and she was home, he would sob about how much he loved her mother. Shelley reminded him of her, he would claim, although they couldn't look more different. Shelley's mother had been tall and beautiful, bold, with pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes; Shelley had received her father's muted colouring, instead, with unremarkable brown hair and dull green eyes.

Even though she had no real emotional attachments to the man who remained in her house, the first thing she did upon crossing the threshold was search for him.

"Dad!" she called, passing into the living room. "I'm home! Are you awake?"

As usual, no response came, and she sighed. Of course he wasn't awake; he never was, so early in the day. She toed off her shoes and dropped her bookbag next to them as she continued into the house. However, when her father wasn't passed out in the bed as she had expected, she felt the slightest ounce of worry manifest. She peered at the dusty floor, but it was absent of vague, dad-shaped lumps. Heaving a slightly worried sigh, she looked into the bathroom; a breath of exasperation left her chest. He couldn't even be trusted to be alone for the time she went to school... Really, she was simply happy he was dressed.

Shelley walked over to the place where a thin, middle-aged man was curled up, his body leaning against the wall. His breathing racked his whole body, but she was less worried than relieved at that-- at least he was still breathing. She knelt down to inspect his sunken face. Twin lines of blood marked his lips and chin, which was becoming more and more of a frequent occurrence.

"Let's get you cleaned up, then," she whispered to an audience that wouldn't hear her if she screamed. She grabbed a cloth from the counter, wet it, and started dabbing at his face gently, so as not to disturb his sleep. She didn't have to see the dark bags under his eyes to know how rare it was for him to get a decent night's sleep; he was probably only unconscious now because he'd finally crashed into the ill-fated low after the high.

Once she'd wiped away the blood that stained his face, Shelley draped the cloth over the side of the tub and stood back to stare at him. She was too weak to lift him, even with his rapid weight loss; he would stay in that position until he woke. No doubt he would leave to get another fix the moment he was conscious...

Shelley left the bathroom shortly to grab a blanket, which she then draped over her father's shoulders. Even if he was broken, he was still her father. She was incapable of hating him, no matter how much his bad choices hurt both of them. In fact, she figured she was more upset with him for hurting himself than she was for hurting her. After all, she was used to handling the pain that came with everyday living in high school; her father was not, anymore. He had been at the stage in his life where he thought he had reached his happy ending, only to have the proverbial welcome mat pulled straight out from beneath his feet. He couldn't be blamed too much for toppling to the ground.

Shelley kissed his forehead, drawing the blanket closer to his ears, and moved to her room. She had work in an hour, and walking would take at least half that time. Supporting what little, crumbling remains of family she had left meant working full-time in addition to school. She was more tired than she had ever been, but she had someone there with her.

She'd considered leaving before, but she knew that it wouldn't change as much as she hoped. She would still have to support herself, which meant she would still be working full-time, but she would be alone. More than that, her father would be alone, and that was too much for Shelley to cope with.

Instead, she soldiered on, enduring what came her way. After all, things couldn't get any worse anymore.

The Forgotten Generation: Chapter Six

2011-11-13T00:39:00.000-05:00

The Forgotten Generation

Chapter Six: Little Miss Perfect and the Fairy Queen

“Well, of course we didn’t get along at first. Like, I remember thinking something along the lines of, ‘Of all the people to pair me with, you pick the fruity one?’ I mean, how was I supposed to know? How were any of us supposed to know?”

--from an interview with Madeline Nelson, aged 17.

Quincy settled down nervously, glancing over his shoulder at Rainer. He hoped that his best friend didn’t do or say something stupid… Shelley was an abnormally nice girl, and Quincy thought Rainer might even grow to like her, if only he’d give her the chance to prove herself. From what Quincy had seen, she wouldn’t be the type to anger or irritate Rainer, and she certainly wouldn’t go out of her way to disagree with him. Maybe the three of them could even be friends somehow. He just had to hope that Rainer didn’t ruin any possibility of that friendship by being unnecessarily harsh; Shelley also didn’t seem like she’d take criticism well. He was sure she got enough of that from the rest of the school.

“Look, are you going to keep staring at your boyfriend, or are you going to talk to me?”

An involuntary blush spread across Quincy’s face as he stuttered, “I—he—er, we’re not—he’s—he’s not my boyfriend… We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, right,” Madeline said, rolling her eyes, “Like I haven’t heard that one before. What’s next, you’re just experimenting?” She crinkled her narrow nose as if the very thought of bringing that up bothered her. Quincy didn’t think he’d be winning her over any time soon, but he hadn’t expected to. He’d only heard of her before, but he knew that Madeline Nelson was not an easy person to impress. Quincy simply had nothing to offer her in any way. He wasn’t exactly popular or well-liked, or even liked at all… His parents didn’t have an exorbitant amount of money, and he wasn’t intriguing or exceptionally good-looking. Madeline didn’t have to know anything about him to know that someone hated him, either; a dark bruise stained his otherwise pale skin, blacking out the freckles that dusted his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. As far as she was concerned, Quincy was useless to her.

Averting his eyes, Quincy shrugged. “I’m not experimenting, but… Rainer’s straight as a board. And even if he wasn’t, he’s not my type.” Quincy didn’t really get the chance to “go after” much of anyone in his school, but he was far more attracted to kinder, gentler souls. He didn’t want to walk on eggshells around his significant other; he wanted to be able to open up, heart and soul. There was no point in trying for anyone he’d spend the entire relationship terrified of. It was bound to end in nothing but misery for both of them—and that included anyone who had anger management issues, even besides Rainer.

“Whatever you say, fruit.”

“Quincy,” he interjected.

“I’m sorry?” Madeline replied, her voice rising in pitch with irritation.

“I have a name. It’s Quincy.” He shrugged again, a nervous habit, as whatever courage he’d had for the past few seconds faded. What was he thinking, talking back to Madeline? Wasn’t she dating Keiden, the very guy who tormented him day after day after day? This should be the last girl he wanted to have against him; she could make his life even worse than it already was, and that was an accomplishment. He certainly didn’t want to risk making her an enemy, but what could he do? She already hated him, so it wasn’t as if his talking out of line had set them off on the wrong foot; his mere existence had been enough to do that. It didn’t seem that there would be any way to get her on his side… He ran a shaky hand over his shoulder, as if he could comfort himself with the action; it didn’t work as well as he would have hoped. “It’s just, most people call each other by their names,” he said.

He chanced a glance back to the girl, who wasn’t meeting his eyes; her own clear blue eyes were focused plainly on the white tiles beneath their feet. “You haven’t really called me by mine, either,” she pointed out. Even while she wasn’t looking at him, he could sense that she was still dominating the conversation; it was almost as if she were merely waiting for him to step out of line, waiting for him to make just the “right” wrong move before she would move into checkmate.

“You haven’t really given me the chance… and I haven’t gone out of my way to insult you.”

It was Madeline’s turn to shrug this time; she wasn’t used to anyone talking so openly to her. Granted, he wasn’t talking much, but it was a start. She couldn’t figure out whether it irritated her or pleased her to hear the truth, or at least as close to it as anyone like her was going to get. On one hand, the break from the constant compliments that turned out to be bold-faced lies was nice; on the other, any compliment was nice, even if she didn’t always believe them.

“So, where’d you get the bruise?” she asked, her eyes briefly flitting to the dark mark on his face.

“I’d…” Another nervous shrug. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about that… I mean, you know, sometimes things just happen…” Really, though, he just didn’t want to tell Madeline that her boy-toy had spent the better part of an hour tormenting him the day before. “So… um, Madeline… what now?” Quincy asked, not knowing what else to do as his companion fell silent. When Rainer went quiet, it was generally understood that not talking was in his best interests; when Madeline stopped talking, he felt that he was supposed to say something, but he didn’t have the slightest clue what that something might have been. Socialisation wasn’t his strong suit, after all.

The question, however, seemed to startle Madeline out of some faraway world she was visiting, but she didn’t respond verbally yet. Instead, she reached a manicured hand into her purse, checked the time on her phone, and gingerly climbed out of the desk. “I have other plans, too,” she said, speaking equally to Mr. Vaughn, Quincy, and herself. “Mr. Vaughn never mentioned this was going to take much longer than a few minutes.” That was all she said to excuse herself before she walked out.

Mr. Vaughn cleared his throat and looked to the remaining four occupants of the room. “Yes, I suppose I may have made that mistake with all of you… It’s clear you all want to go home, so if you’re ready to leave for the day, I won’t stop you. But we’re going to have another meeting next Wednesday,” he reminded, as if the first thing that came to anyone’s mind was when they could torture themselves with this again.

Rainer didn’t want for a second chance; almost immediately, he popped up from his seat, slung an almost-empty book bag over his shoulder, and crossed the few yards to Quincy, where he stood in wait impatiently, head cocked to one side.

“C’mon, kid, I haven’t got all day. You want to walk home by yourself, or what?”

“Alright,” was the soft response. Quincy offered a half-smile, which was usually as wide as he ever smiled, even around his best (and, technically, only) friend. Still, Rainer knew that he was at least somewhat happy as he stood and draped his bag over his shoulder. “I guess I’m partner-less, anyway,” he reasoned as he trailed behind Rainer.

Rainer chuckled. “Don’t I always tell ya I’m the only one willing to put up with you?”

That comment made the corners of Quincy’s mouth twitch, although his half-smile didn’t widen. Rainer was used to it, and he even found it enjoyable that Quincy wasn’t prone to overreacting to humour and jokes; incessant laughter grated on his nerves. If Quincy didn’t even fully smile, then he didn’t laugh, and that meant he wasn’t irritating… or at least not in that respect. Luckily, to Rainer, at least, Quincy wasn’t irritating in most respects. He didn’t make much noise, and he knew how and when to hold his tongue.

As they walked, exiting the building, Rainer continued, “Do me a favour—don’t ever ask me to sit in with you again.”

Quincy’s half-smile fell, and his eyes dropped to the ground. “That bad?” he questioned. “I thought you might like Shelley.”

Rainer fell eerily silent, which made Quincy quite uncomfortable. Usually, he knew why Rainer fell silent: he simply didn’t want to talk about something, or he had nothing to say. In this case, Quincy figured it was the first, but he wasn’t sure what his friend’s reasoning was behind the decision… unless his preconception had been spot-on.

“So, you did like her?” he pressed. Rainer had an easier time controlling his anger when it came to Quincy, so he wasn’t too worried about setting him off just yet. “Then how was it so bad?”

“I never said I liked her. I mean, hell, she’s even scrawnier and wimpier than you.”

“But…?”

“But—there’s no but,” Rainer argued. When Quincy shot him a look that obviously said he was unconvinced, he sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I guess… I don’t know. I just… felt weird, y’know? I mean, maybe… Maybe something’s up with Shelley.”

“Rain, I knew that from the start… I mean, I’m not going to say that I know what it is, but…”

Rainer shrugged. “It’s none of my business, or yours, for that matter. I should just stay out of this at all, I think. You guys can have your little get-togethers or whatever, but when you’re planning ‘em, lose my number.”

“It really cannot be that bad…” Quincy frowned. “Come on, just give it one more try?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“For Shelley?”

“Hell no.”

One of Quincy’s hands wrapped tightly around the strap of his bag, his knuckles turning white. “For me?” he asked nervously, very nearly pouting.

Rainer paused. There was silence for a while, and Quincy figured he was, for once, trying to think of a tactful way to say “fuck off,” but he was surprised when his friend finally opened his mouth. “Fine, but only because I owe you.”

The half-smile lit up Quincy’s face again. “I knew you’d come through.”

Madeline was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar, dark blue sports car in her driveway when she arrived home. She climbed out of her own car and peered at her reflection in the shiny window, fussing with her hair and wiping at the lip gloss at the corners of her mouth. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she quickly walked to the house and slipped through the door.

In the kitchen, Anne was politely entertaining (probably more like bothering, knowing the aging housekeeper) a well-built, broad guy clad in a letterman jacket. At the sound of Madeline entering, both of their heads turned. Anne’s smile was polite, but the male’s bordered on outright lecherous. Madeline giggled and moved to drape her arms over his shoulders. He kissed her deeply in greeting, obviously not caring if Anne saw or not.

Madeline did, though, and she drew away although her teasing smile remained. “What do you say we head up to my room?” she murmured.

He agreed all too quickly, blond head nodding much like a bobble-head toy, and she pulled him out of the chair. As they disappeared to the second floor, Anne sighed and shook her head, wondering where they had gone wrong with Madeline Nelson. Little Maddi used to be such a good child, but that was before she reached the age where she really needed a strong parental figure. Anne did her best, but she couldn’t replace the poor girl’s real, biological and legal parents. She would forever blame Mr. and Mrs. Nelson for ruining such a sweet, genuine little girl.

Forty-five minutes later, Madeline had climbed off of her bed, pulled her underwear back on, and wandered into the bathroom. She didn’t particularly have a need or a desire to fix her hair or makeup, despite how atrocious it looked—she wasn’t quite as vain as she often pretended to be—but it was better than lying in bed and having to actually socialise with someone like Keiden. He was the sort of guy who wasn’t good for many things, and the things he was good at were very specific: sex, violence, and sports. He wasn’t the kind of guy she’d take to meet her family… not that they’d even bother to show up if she wanted to introduce them, anyway.

She jerked a little when she saw a naked Keiden in the mirror behind her. She whirled around, irritated, and snapped, “Would you put that away? God, have some decency for once, would you?”

Keiden didn’t seem fazed by her rudeness, as he merely held up a little plastic baggy filled with something that looked vaguely illegal.

“Kei! What the hell?” she whispered harshly. “For fuck’s sake, get that out of here! Shit, if my dad finds out—”

Keiden’s brow furrowed. “I thought you said he wasn’t home.”

“Ugh, he’s not, but—just—just get rid of it, would you? Fuck, how stupid are you?” Madeline pushed past him to go back into her room. She picked up his boxers off the floor and chucked them at him. “Get dressed, and get out,” she said, throwing his jeans at him, as well.

“What’s your problem? It’s just a little—”

“Just a little what?” she snapped. “I do a lot of things, but weed isn’t one of them. Now get that shit out of my house.” Even though he was only holding his bundle of clothing, and still very much naked, she started pushing him out of her room. He was easily stronger than her, but he didn’t bother resisting much, even when she slammed the door in his face.

With a laboured huff, Madeline ran a hand through her tangled hair. No doubt Keiden would be pissed at her for a while, but she didn’t care much about that. Sure, she misbehaved, but she wasn’t going to get caught doing something that stupid, especially not in her own house. She really needed to start hanging around smarter guys…

CoH (1)

2011-10-09T00:51:00.000-04:00

SOMEONE wanted this. Blame her. d: Also, this is originally written with no chapters or breaks, etc. So I'm just cutting it off during the timeskip.

The Colour of Hope

Part One

Avian. Gods, isn’t that a beautiful name? Such a perfect match for a beautiful person… Avian. He was… wow. He is wonderful. He has beautiful, expressive hazel eyes that resemble the starry night sky with their sparkling depths; they took and take my breath away. I’ve never been one to be attracted to soft, effeminate men before, but Avian is different. He is beautiful and gentle and charmingly hesitant. I loved everything about him from the start—well, everything I know, that is, which admittedly isn’t much. I know his name, his face, and that he goes to my school but lives off-campus. Other than that, he is a mystery.

Perhaps I should start from the beginning. Last week, my best friend and roommate Kael invited me to a party. Normally I don’t go to parties, and I’d put up quite the argument—I had a portrait due in the coming week that I’d been putting off—but since it was Kael who asked me, I went anyway. I was pouring back beer by the cup when I saw him. On the other side of the room, beyond the bumping and grinding of my classmates, he stood, the only other person who looked reasonably wary over the whole ordeal. His arms were wrapped around himself, and his eyes were on the floor. I quickly set my generic plastic red cup on the table next to me and worked my way over to him, with all the intentions of fulfilling my overwhelming desire to run my hands through his midnight hair.

I was suddenly overtaken by the urge to make him move—to make him want to move—to dance. I wondered if he liked to dance even. I shook my head and told myself to focus on what I was trying to do—approaching him, that is. What could I say without sounding crazy or creepy or simply retarded?

“Hi,” a shy voice spoke softly. I turned my head. The boy I’d come to speak to had taken the initiative, which rather surprised me. “I’m Avian.”

I tried to pull off a charming smile. It’s hard to say whether or not I succeeded. “I’m Glenn. Hi.”

“Hi.”

“So, uh… do you wanna dance?”

“I’m not really much of a dancer…”

I held out my hand, ignoring his protest. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. Promise.”

He hesitantly placed his hand in mine and took a step away from safety. “Alright,” he said quietly. I grinned as I led him toward the pulsing, convulsing mass of college students. His hand gripped mine even more tightly the farther I led him into Gomorrah.

“You okay?” I asked him. Sure, I may have wanted him to dance, but his knuckles were turning white and my hand was being clenched beneath them. Clearly there was some reluctance on his part.

“Yeah.” He said yes, but his body screamed no. Nevertheless, I turned him toward me and pulled him close. As we began to dance to the beat of the song, it didn’t take me long to notice that he moved more stiffly than any of my former dance partners. Not that I’d had many, but the point remains the same.

“Relax, Avian,” I half-shouted to be heard over the music. “You’re thinking too hard.” His body was pushing against mine, not flowing and cooperating. “Just breathe.”

He tilted his head back as if he were frustrated, but I felt him breathe deeply. The sigh that left his body took with it the majority of his tension as well as his adamant refusal not to let go of his inhibitions, apparently. The change in his motion was palpable. He still moved clumsily, but there was a much stronger cooperation on his part.

“So,” I said into his ear so he could hear me, “I haven’t seen you around before. Do you go here?” Avian nodded, eyes closed. I didn’t like his eyes closed; I loved seeing the way the light reflected and refracted in them, the deepest eyes I’d ever seen before. “What’s your major?”

His eyes opened, slowly and carefully as if he’d planned every exact millimetre to perfection. “Biology,” he replied quietly.

I quirked an interested eyebrow. “What is someone like you doing in something like Biology?” I asked. I’d always thought that as an Art major, I wouldn’t be missing out much on beautiful people. Apparently I’d been dreadfully wrong. Who knew the sciences were harbouring a specimen like this?

“What’s yours?” Avian asked, pointedly ignoring my question. I let it be; I could be patient for him if he needed it.

“Art,” I said. “More specifically, 2D. But my favourite is painting.”

“Oh.” He didn’t say anything else, and I decided not to press anymore. Instead, I focused on dancing.

I gripped his hips and held him close to me as we shifted and swayed together. Before long, his hands were on me, too, tracing the seams at the sides of my shirt. He bent his head forward so that I

could feel his hot breath against my collarbone.

I lost control. I grabbed his head, taking only a split second to marvel at how his hair slid through my fingers, and kissed him heatedly. I wanted more of him; I was pressed closer than I thought possible, and I only wanted closer. Avian’s exploring hands quickly began pushing at my chest until I at last pulled away.

“Stop—don’t come any closer,” he said when I tried to take him to me again.

“Avian, I—”

He held up a hand. “Just… just stop…” He pushed past me and for a moment I could do little but stare as he strode away, far away. How could I let him go, though? I had to follow, and so I did.

“Avian, wait—” I groaned and tried to push past people so that I could catch up to him, but he was really good at squeezing through minute gaps in the crowd. “Avian!”

He paused suddenly, and I ran into the back of him. Even if the closeness killed me, I was afraid to step back; he might run away if I gave him that distance.

“Avian, whatever I did, I…” I trailed off. What could I possibly say? I had meant to kiss him—I had meant it—and I had known what I was doing. What I didn’t understand was why it had upset him so badly. If he didn’t want it, I’d gladly back off. Since when was a single kiss the end of the world as one knew it? And had it really been that bad…? How embarrassing… “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I finally said, albeit weakly.

“No,” he agreed, “And that’s the problem. That’s always the problem.” He didn’t sound like he was talking to me, so I didn’t reply. Eventually, he murmured, “I have to go.”

As he stepped away, I grabbed his wrist. “Don’t leave me.”

He spun around, irritation nearly hiding the glimmer of fear in his eyes. “Don’t leave you? You hardly even know me!”

“And if you walk away, I never will.”

“I know. That’s why I’m doing it.” And with that, Avian tore his arm out of my slackened grip and did exactly what he said he would. I let him.

The Forgotten Generation: Chapter Five

2011-08-31T01:22:00.000-04:00

The Forgotten Generation

Chapter Five: Fayola's Too Black

“A month has passed since we first arrived in America. [Grandmother] talks of ‘home’ relentlessly, as if to remind us where we came from; I think she worries that [Nnena] will forget our past. [Father] keeps saying that one day, things will improve. That’s good, but I don’t want [Nnena] to forget. I don’t want to forget.”

--roughly translated, from the diary of Fayola Ihejirika, aged 18.

Fayola was pretty, not that she’d ever say as much of herself. Dark skin, even darker hair and eyes. Her father had rejected many requests for marriage from neighbouring suitors back home, despite how unheard of such rejections may have been, because he’d been praying for a better life, even then. Fayola had become one of the oldest unwed females of the village, still a maiden at eighteen, and many of the villagers had come to look at her as being arrogant.

Here, though, it was very much a different case. There weren’t many other people like her. In fact, the town was ninety percent white, and it hadn’t quite gathered that racial profiling wasn’t the best way to go about things; they went about matters in an us versus them manner, more often than not, and the Ihejirika family was a part of the “them.”

Her eyes on the large bathroom mirror, Fayola readjusted the colourful, traditional kanga she wore. If anything, the dress made her stick out even more, but wearing what the other girls wore sounded uncomfortable and restricting.

“Fay, I have a favour to ask,” Shelley had said, the nervous edge in her voice stronger than usual.

“What is it?”

“Mr. Vaughn asked me to come to this… thing… after school. He didn’t say much about it, but—well, I thought that… it might be easier, if you’re there, too.”

Fayola had agreed almost immediately; Shelley was too nice for her own good, and others took advantage of that. Every chance they had, they ripped her to shreds. If she could prevent that, she gladly would do her best.

Fayola sighed as she thought about that earlier conversation with Shelley. Something about this meeting made her blood tingle, and she didn’t know why. It felt… dangerous. Or perhaps “dangerous” wasn’t the right word, but something in her body felt that it would be life-changing.

Still, a woman’s tongue was not made to lie, and Fayola intended to keep her word. She finished smoothing the folds from her kanga, and then she headed to Mr. Vaughn’s classroom.

Four students were there already, seated, with varying expressions on their faces: Shelley sat, looking pleased at the boy beside her; the blond boy also looked vaguely happy, in stark contrast to the other two bodies. An intimidating male with broad shoulders sat hunched over the desktop, drumming his fingers in what was obviously an act of irritation, while a pretty girl had her slender arms crossed over her chest. When Fayola entered the room, the latter two gave a huff.

“Mr. Vaughn,” the pretty girl said, straightening her spine, “I thought that this meeting was… personal.”

“I apologize for misleading you,” he said pleasantly, and Fayola saw Shelley’s eyes snap to him as she sighed. “Fayola, if you would like to join us…” Slowly, Fayola took the invitation, sitting next to the irritated boy.

“Mr. Vaughn, if you don’t mind my asking… why are we all here?”

“Good question. With the exception of you and Octavian—”

“It’s Rainer,” he objected.

“Right, Rainer—I had noticed that some of my students were feeling a little… out of place.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Octavian—it’s Rainer—said, “This is high school. ‘Out of place’ is going around. And that sure as hell don’t explain what Miss Bitch is in here for,” he added, gesturing toward the pretty girl, who shrugged in response.

“You’d be surprised how much the five of you have in common.”

“Alright,” Rainer admitted, “We all hate each other. That’s about as close as we’re gonna get to being similar.”

“I don’t,” the blond said quietly.

“I don’t, either,” Fayola agreed.

“Yes, well, I do,” the pretty girl said.

“Madeline,” Mr. Vaughn chastised.

“What? I do! They’re all losers and freaks.”

Slamming his hands on the desk, Rainer stood. “Don’t you even start, you slut,” he said angrily, his face quickly reddening. “If anyone here’s a loser or a freak, you’re damn well included.”

“Now now,” Mr. Vaughn interjected, “Rainer, Madeline. There are better ways to socialize than insults.”

“Oh, fuck this,” Madeline breathed. “I’m out.”

“Then so is your grade.”

Madeline paused, and Fayola could tell from her seat that the girl was gritting her teeth. “Fine,” she said after a while. “What do you want me to do.” It should have been a question, but it wasn’t, at least from what Fayola heard.

“Get along. It’s that simple. I’ll split you into pairs. I suppose since there’s an odd number, the odd one out will sit with me…” Fayola cast her eyes to Shelley, knowing that the girl was praying to be that ‘odd one out,’ with that absurd crush she’d developed on him. “Let’s see…” He looked around the room, apparently making the connections in his brain. “We’ll have Madeline and Quincy together, and… Rainer and Shelley. Alright, move together, then,” he said.

Fayola blinked. So then she was the odd one out. Well, she supposed that wasn’t altogether unusual. Shelley caught her eye, a nervous look apparent in the girl’s muddy green eyes, but Fayola wasn’t going to be tempted to question authority, whether they were officially in class or not. Instead, she followed Mr. Vaughn to his desk as the reluctant sound of metal scraping against linoleum filled the room.

Silence soon reigned. The pairs didn’t even seem to look at each other.

“Well. Talk,” Mr. Vaughn said. A moment passed before a light murmur filled the room.

“Mr. Vaughn, I… don’t think I understand,” Fayola admitted.

“You will,” he assured. “One day.”

The Forgotten Generation: Chapter Four

2011-08-27T04:24:00.002-04:00

I'll admit I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter. Octavian's characterization is just a little off, and I didn't get to touch on how he's perceived as much as I'd have liked, but that also is because Quincy addressed it earlier... I don't know. Hopefully I'll fix it in the editing process. XDD

The Forgotten Generation
Chapter Four: Octavian's a Thug

“People make me angry. I’m not going to bottle up my emotions for the sake of someone’s feelings or their pretty faces. They should know that. If they piss me off, they’re going to know it, and they’re going to feel it. But that doesn’t make me some common street thug. I’m not some mugger, or some gangster. I’ve got a cause every time I get into a fight.”

--transcribed from a recording of Octavian Thornton, aged 17, during a psychiatrist visit.

Nearly a week passed after the diner incident, and Octavian—who liked to be referred to by his middle name, Rainer—had returned to school, much to the chagrin of the disciplinary department. Many students with his track record for trouble would have long ago been expelled, but he was what the other students called a “charity case.” That was funny, he thought to himself sometimes, seeing as they didn’t actually know what his so-called problems were.

Well… not most of them, anyway, he rectified this particular day, casting a glance to a silent Quincy who sat next to him. He had never meant for anyone to discover that part of him.

Rainer had arrived home early, having been suspended from school again. He’d slammed his backpack on the floor, a part of him relishing the loud noise it made in his otherwise silent home, and stomped through the house.

“Anyone home?” he’d shouted, although he already knew the answer. After a moment, he’d muttered something about thinking that was the case, and then he’d stormed off to his room, shoving a book to the floor on his way.

He’d spent the majority of his day off napping or practicing his aim with paper wads. Not quite an hour after school, however, he had heard a knock on the door.

Of all people, it had been a student a year younger than he was, a student to whom he’d never spoken before.

“The hell do you want?” Rainer had asked, leaning against his doorframe.

“This is where you live…?”

“Now, let’s get one thing straight; I won’t have you—”

“No, it’s—it’s fine—I only thought… well, Mr. Vaughn asked me to give this to you,” the boy had replied, handing him a stack of papers.

Rainer had only stared at them for a long time. “Why you?”

“W-well, I live a few blocks down the road… I walk home, so I’d be passing by, anyway, and...”

Eventually, Rainer snatched the papers from his hands. “What’s your name, kid?”

“…Quincy…”

“Call me Rainer.”

“Do I have something on my face…?” Quincy asked, wiping self-consciously at his cheek.

“Nah, I was just thinking.”

Quincy hummed in response, taking a bite of his turkey sandwich. He had a habit of covering his mouth with his free hand, and even when he didn’t, the hand never seemed to leave his face. It was a nervous habit he had that Rainer couldn’t say he found altogether irritating, unlike many habits many people had.

“Should I bother asking?” Quincy asked, pushing half of his sandwich to Rainer.

Rainer shrugged and took a large bite of the sandwich. “Prob’ly not,” he replied; his voice was garbled due to the food in it, and he saw Quincy make a face at the display.

They ate in companionable silence. Most of their lunches passed this way. Rainer wasn’t one for conversation, and he knew that Quincy knew what to say about as much as he did.

It felt unfair, sometimes, that Quincy should be his best friend. Of all the people…

“Hey, what are you doing after school?” Quincy asked out of the blue.

“Uhh… can’t say I’ve got plans. Why, what’s up?”

“Well, there’s this… thing… after school that Mr. Vaughn wants me to go to. I think maybe… you should come, too?”

“I don’t do your stupid study groups,” Rainer said firmly.

“It’s not a study group. It’s… more of… a support group.”

“I don’t need a support group, Quin.”

“No, but maybe I do!”

Rainer fell silent, avoiding Quincy’s eyes. With the exception of perhaps his mother, Quincy was the only person Rainer ever had trouble telling no. “Fine,” he grumbled, biting into the sandwich again. “But just this once.”

He didn’t have to look up to feel Quincy’s soft smile. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, well, mention it to anyone, and you’ll end up in the hospital.”

“I’d expect no less.”

Rainer couldn’t say with any amount of honesty that he was looking forward to the impromptu afterschool gathering. Truthfully, if it were anyone other than Quincy, he would have shown them exactly where they could shove their little invitation. Actually, he probably would have slammed his fist into their face or his knee into their gut before they’d even managed to get out the first three words. It wasn’t so much that Rainer was antisocial as it was that he hated everyone. Quincy simply happened to fall into a very rare category of people Rainer didn’t consider “people.”

To Rainer, any nameless face was always in need of a good beating. Anything anyone did could set him off. He’d been told he had anger issues that needed work, and if the suggestion didn’t piss him off so much, he’d be inclined to agree.

“I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you’re thinking,” Quincy tried to tell him as they walked.

“Quin, other irritating, weak and helpless people are going to be there. Why did you even fucking invite me?”

Quincy shrugged. “I don’t know… Do you want to leave? You don’t have to stay…”

“Damn straight I don’t have to,” Rainer muttered. Still, he sighed. When Quincy looked like a disappointed puppy, he really had a hard time saying no. Frankly, it made him angry, but that didn’t mean he was any more likely to turn Quincy down. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Rainer could tell that Quincy was fighting not to beam. In response, he only glared as Quincy wrestled open the classroom door and slipped in.

“Oh, hell no,” Rainer said immediately upon walking in. What the hell sort of support group was this? “I ain’t sittin’ in the same room as Miss Queen Bitch and that cracked-out whore.”

Quincy shot him a dark look, and Rainer couldn’t help but be taken aback as his best friend sat next to the “cracked-out whore,” quietly telling her something or other. Were they seriously friends? When the hell had this happened? Had he walked into some Insecure Losers Anonymous meeting, and they hadn’t told him? And if so, why the hell was the leader of the Bitch Squad here?

Rainer loudly flopped into the desk on the other side of Quincy, slamming his textbook on the top.

“I told you that you don’t have to say,” Quincy pointed out.

“Someone has to walk your pansy ass home.”

Rainer chanced a glance at the smile threatening to form on Quincy’s face, and he gave Quincy a stern look. This wasn’t one of their cute little luncheons. This was a classroom where they were surrounded by other people, and it was a battlefield. Rainer would be killed before he’d take off his game face.

The Forgotten Generation: Chapter Three

2011-08-25T14:27:00.001-04:00

The Forgotten Generation
Chapter Three: Madeline's a Barbie

“Maybe I’m overreacting, but sometimes I feel like no one ever sees me. Everyone thinks my life is perfect, that everything is handed to me, and I win at everything I try. If they want my life, fine. I’d trade with them in a heartbeat. It’s like they forget I’m a person, too.”

--from the diary of Madeline Nelson, aged 17.

Madeline Nelson was the last person anyone would expect to have troubles. She was beautiful, popular, and rich; guys were clambering to be her next fling. But she wasn’t happy. She knew that she had no real friends. In the movies, everything looked so easy in high school. If you just did your best and were yourself, everything would turn out okay. That wasn’t true. High school was politics, and Madeline hadn’t even noticed when she’d become president.

She glanced in the bathroom mirror, fussing with her hair, on her way to a stall. She only had to take some medication, but it couldn’t get out that she was some sort of pill-popper.

As she swallowed the pills, she heard the bathroom door swing open, and two gossiping girls entered.

“God, have you seen Madeline lately?” one of the girls said, her voice irritatingly high-pitched. A part of Madeline wanted to announce her presence, but she decided to wait as the other girl spoke up.

“Ugh, I know,” she agreed. “First-class slut. Like, really. Did she think no one noticed her boob job?”

A look of confusion appeared on Madeline’s face as she glanced down at her chest. It was only a push-up bra… Why would she have a boob job? She was already flawless.

“Right? And, like, what is up with her hair? Has she never heard of a straightener?”

Madeline quirked an eyebrow. The best they could come up with was a cheap insult to her hair? Her hair, which was in perfectly sculpted waves every day? Really, this was just getting pathetic. Madeline straightened her clothes and flung open the door, sending a venomous smile to the two girls at the sinks.

“What a surprise to see you here!” she exclaimed mock-cheerfully. “I’m sorry; it’s just ever since my boob job, it’s so hard to see people around my tits!”

“I—uh—we’re… we’re gonna go now,” one of the girls stammered.

“Yeah, you do that, sweetheart,” Madeline said, one hand on her hip. The pair scampered off, metaphorical tails between their legs, and Madeline rolled her eyes as she turned to the mirror.

She frowned, poking one of her breasts. Did people really think she’d had surgery? She may have come from a wealthy family, but that didn’t mean she’d made a trip to the plastic surgeon. Still, a part of her was flattered. She was so plastic-perfect that people thought she wasn’t even real.

Oh, who was she kidding? She hated it. She hated being the Queen Bitch. It wasn’t like she’d asked to be handed the crown; it had just happened one day. Sighing softly, Madeline swiped on some lip gloss and headed out.

An hour later saw Madeline sitting across from Mr. Vaughn, pleading as well as Madeline Nelson ever pleaded, which wasn’t necessarily saying much.

“Please,” she said, “I can’t fail this class. I’ll do anything,” she hinted.

“Well, there is something that comes to mind,” Mr. Vaughn said, and Madeline looked up. She hadn’t expected him to agree so quickly; she’d thought he was one of the less corrupt teachers at the school. Oh well. It was better for her grade that he wasn’t. “Next Tuesday, come to my classroom after school.”

Madeline shot him a bright smile and stood. “Of course, Mr. Vaughn,” she said cheerfully, slinging her Louis Vuitton bag over her shoulder.

Her heels clicked, the only noise in the empty halls, all the way to the parking lot. She easily slipped into her white convertible, checked her hair in the rear-view mirror, and jammed her key into the ignition. The top lowered, and she sped home.

“I’m home,” Madeline called, peering around the corner. “Daddy?”

“Mr. Nelson got called back to work,” their live-in maid, Anne, said kindly. She was a sweet woman; in her late fifties, the plump woman had been more present in Madeline’s life than anyone.

“We were supposed to have dinner tonight,” Madeline said, frowning.

“Oh, I know, dearie,” Anne told her. “I’m sure he’ll reschedule.”

Madeline threw her purse into the living room chair, barely resisting the urge to stomp like a petulant toddler. “This is the fourth time we’ve rescheduled!”

“Mr. Nelson’s only—”

“Only doing his job, only supporting us,” Madeline muttered, crossing her arms. “But he’s doing a shitty job of being a father.”

“Well,” Anne said, smoothing Madeline’s hair, “How about you and I go to dinner?”

Madeline shoved the woman’s hands away from her. “No thank you,” she said coldly, grabbing her purse and stomping up to her room. If her father wanted nothing to do with her, she’d get back at him. She pulled her phone from her purse and started texting that football player, Kaiden. He always was up for a hook-up.

The Forgotten Generation: Chapter Two

2011-08-25T02:39:00.001-04:00

The Forgotten Generation
Chapter Two: "Quincy's a Faggot"

“They tell me I’m not normal, that I’m a freak. That this was my choice. That’s the hardest part, some days—thinking that I did this to myself and to my family. I would do anything to take the daily tears in my mom’s eyes away, but I can’t change what I am. If I could, I would be anything else. Anyone else. Everyone seems to forget that I’m the victim here.”

--from the journal of Quincy Zoric, aged 16.

Quincy winced, dabbing gingerly at the cut across his cheekbone with a wet paper towel. He hadn’t even so much as glanced in Kaiden’s general direction, and he’d still gotten hit for looking at him the wrong way. As if he’d go for such an oversized football player with mallets for hands… That class ring had gotten him good, though. A deep red bruise was already forming around the cut; there was no way he’d be able to hide this one. Why did they always go for the face? It was so much worse when Octavian—or Rainer, Quincy supposed he liked to be called—wasn’t around.

But of course, Rainer had been suspended again for the last time he’d socked someone trying to mess with Quincy. It wasn’t fair. Didn’t the school have a zero tolerance policy toward fighting? Apparently they were willing to look the other way when it was their star player bullying a worthless little sophomore. The big game was coming up, after all…

Quincy sighed, tossing the paper towel into the waste bin. He knew that it didn’t matter who Kaiden was; the big point was that he was gay, and the school board had never gone out of its way to protect someone like him. It was his fault. It was always his fault.

Quincy was supposed to be eating lunch, but he never could bring himself to go to the cafeteria when Rainer wasn’t around. He’d prefer eating nothing to being thrown in the garbage again, really. Besides, Rainer always went with him to the diner after school when he was suspended, so it wasn’t as if he’d starve. And fourth period really was early for lunch…

He sighed when his stomach growled despite all his reasoning.

“Well, it’s not my fault,” he muttered to it, moving to one of the stalls.

One good thing about this abandoned bathroom was that no one ever came to it except kids smoking pot, and they left it surprisingly clean. It hadn’t been touched by someone genuinely needing to use the bathroom in years, and Quincy had no qualms with plopping onto the toilet and settling down for a nap.

Right as he was getting comfortable, the phone in his pocket vibrated. He fished it out of his tight jeans, glancing at the display to see that Rainer had sent him a text message.

“how r u doin?” it read, and Quincy smiled slightly. “im bored as fuk. U wanna bust out?”

“After Vaughn’s class,” Quincy typed in reply. Mr. Vaughn always seemed to notice when he’d gone missing. It had saved his ass a few times, but usually, they’d just found him skipping in one of the bathrooms.

A moment later, he received the reply: a simple “K c u then :)”

Quincy didn’t know how Rainer did it, but he always brightened his day. It was funny; most people thought of Rainer as a thug. Sometimes even Quincy was afraid and wanted to duck behind something, truthfully. But after he’d caught a glimpse at Rainer’s home life… well, things had changed, for the better. It was only when they were alone together, but sometimes Rainer was sweet.

After a while, the bell rang, and Quincy wound his way to class as quickly as he could. Mr. Vaughn’s class was one of the few classes he wasn’t scared to death. Most of the other teachers looked the other way, but Mr. Vaughn didn’t, and that immediately made him Quincy’s favourite. As he entered the room, though, Mr. Vaughn stopped him. That wasn’t a common occurrence…

“Quincy,” the man said, “I wanted to speak to you before class.” Quincy nodded his acquiescence, and they moved to Mr. Vaughn’s desk. “I know that the other teachers… turn a blind eye, sometimes. I’ve spoken with the principal numerous times, and he claims that you are not at any real risk, or that these altercations are accidents. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to change his mind. I wanted to invite you, though, to an afterschool group I’ll be sponsoring starting next week. For kids like you.”

“Kids like me?” Quincy asked, his voice a little doubting. “Mr. Vaughn, I’m the only gay kid within a ten-mile radius.”

Mr. Vaughn chuckled. “It’s for kids who feel… overlooked. Forgotten. Listen, just think about it. Consider giving it a try. If you don’t like it once, you don’t have to come again.”

“Yeah. Okay. Sure, I’ll think about it,” Quincy lied. He wouldn’t have minded going, but he didn’t think Rainer would want to go. It would be tough convincing him, too, Quincy thought to himself as he flopped into his desk. Oh well. It wasn’t like he was looking toward going to some afterschool program, anyway. From the sounds of it, he’d be labelled as even more of a loser, and he didn’t think he could take much more abuse than he already did.

The moment Quincy could escape Phillips High, he did. He headed straight to the diner to find that Rainer was already waiting for him there, dressed in typical baggy shirt and jeans, a silver chain hanging from his neck.

“Hey, Rain,” Quincy said. What else could he say? The very moment Rainer looked at him, his piercing brown eyes had spotted the new mark on his face.

“Who did that to you?” Rainer asked, his voice sounding angry. Quincy chanced a glance at him to see that his face was already contorted with rage. It was heart-warming, but Rainer was pushing prison time at this point, and Quincy didn’t think he’d be kept alive if Rainer got put behind bars.

“It’s fine,” Quincy lied.

“Quin—”

“Really. Please. Just leave it.”

Rainer growled, and that was when Quincy knew he was fucked. Rainer was angry more often than not, but when he growled, the shit was about to hit the fan. He proved that a second later when he grabbed Quincy’s arm and started dragging him to the bathroom, despite Quincy’s struggle to get away.

Quincy squeaked when he was thrown bodily against the wall, and Rainer’s hand gripped his chin firmly.

“Who. Hit you?” he asked, his voice deadly quiet. When Quincy closed his eyes and refused to respond, he continued, “Was it Kaiden? It was, wasn’t it?”

“Rain…”

“I knew it! That bastard…” Rainer released Quincy and stalked off toward the sinks, muttering to himself. Quincy rubbed at his sore chin, frowning. Rainer didn’t even seem to notice that he was here now… Even Rainer forgot about him sometimes.

Quincy sighed and headed back home, letting the bathroom door slam shut behind him. Maybe Mr. Vaughn’s suggestion wasn’t such a bad idea… Maybe Rainer would remember him more often if he wasn’t around so much.

The Forgotten Generation: Chapter One

2011-08-25T00:49:00.002-04:00

The Forgotten Generation
Chapter One: Shelley's a Mess

“We deal in the darkness, scavenging for any shred of hope to cling to, like vultures starving for a future. We are the lost causes and the hopeless cases. We are a group of teenagers needing a place to fit in. We are the Forgotten Generation.”

--found in the journal of Shelley Underwood, aged 18.

It was a normal day for Shelley Underwood. Her hair was messy, brown tangles framing her pale face; her bangs fell into her eyes, which were rimmed in thick, smudged eyeliner. Her bony shoulders were buried beneath a ratty blue sweatshirt, which was frayed at the cuffs that she so frequently pulled at. As she walked through the halls of Phillips High School, headed to the next prison cell of the day, she bit her bottom lip. The action made some people look thoughtful, or cute, or alluring; it made Shelley look neurotic. As she slipped into a desk, her bag dropping to the ground with a muted thud, she coughed weakly and suppressed a shiver.

“Oh, imagine that,” one of the girls remarked, smoothing her thick blonde hair with her manicured fingers. “Shelley’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that…” The group of girls she spoke to giggled, covering their candy-pink lips with equally fake nails. Maybe some girls would have defended themselves, but Shelley just sunk into her seat and dropped her eyes to the ground.

“Don’ le’ them bother you,” a dark-skinned girl to her right said kindly, her accent thick.

Shelley cast her friend Fayola a semi-grateful look, but she still pulled self-consciously at her old sweatshirt. “They’re right,” she murmured quietly, her eyes back on the linoleum tiles.

“God will determine that.”

Shelley sighed and chewed at one of her nails, which were yellowish beneath a thick coat of chipped burgundy polish. The brittle nail broke, and tried to spit it out as discreetly as she could. Despite her attempt, one of the girls nearby gave her a look of disgust and opened her mouth. Luckily, the teacher walked in before she could say anything.

Mr. Vaughn, her fourth period English teacher, was a god, at least in Shelley’s mind. The youngest teacher on campus, he had a way with words that would make even girls like Madeline Nelson stop texting long enough to listen to a lecture (or at least pretend to). Sighing pleasantly, Shelley leaned onto her desk and caught his stern gaze over his thin, rectangular spectacles. He didn’t look at her long, of course, but Shelley still tried to delude herself as she watched the way his mouth formed words. Her brain wandered, imagining how those words would feel formed against her skin… She sighed again, staring contentedly as she daydreamed, one hand propping up her face.

“Shelley,” he was saying, and it sounded so sweet. “Shelley… Shelley…” She smiled softly, wanting to be able to say his name in reply. “Shelley!”

Shelley started, her wide eyes blinking quickly. “U-um, yes?” she stuttered. Suddenly, Mr. Vaughn seemed very close, and Shelley pulled at her sleeves to hide her arms.

“Shelley, you’ve been having these instances all week. Is there something you need to talk about?”

“I—no—everything’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’ve just… not been feeling well.”

His eyes softened, and Shelley melted. The expression of concern on his face was so cute… “I’ll give you a nurse’s pass,” he said.

Shelley’s eyes widened again. “N-no, I’m fine,” she insisted.

“Nonsense,” he said, already scribbling on a slip of paper. He thrust the paper into her hands, and she couldn’t exactly say no. Frowning, Shelley stood, pulling at the hem of her sweatshirt, and started off. “Shelley,” Mr. Vaughn said, making her halt and turn. “Take your things.” She obeyed, gathering her worn backpack and the notebook she hadn’t even opened yet.

Shelley stepped into the courtyard a few moments later, squinting against the sun. She couldn’t go to the nurse, but she didn’t want Mr. Vaughn to know that, so she headed to a stairwell on the other side of campus. It was always deserted, since the building hadn’t been used for years, and she usually spent her lunch or free period there reading.

Today, though, it wasn’t deserted. A thin boy was leaned against the wall, his face stained with blood. Shelley stopped, but her shoes scuffling against the ground had already caught his attention.

“…hey,” he said after a while.

Shelley swallowed, her hands itching to tug at her sweatshirt. “Hi…”

“You should probably go.”

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked. She recognized that look of resignation; that was the look an outcast wore.

He pointed to himself. “Fag,” he said simply.

Shelley nodded, moving to sit next to him. “Want my nurse’s pass?” She extended it to him, and he took it, brushing blonde bangs from his face to read the note.

“I don’t think the nurse’ll believe that my name’s Shelley, no matter how queer I am,” he said, his voice dull. Shelley liked it, though; it was different. Unique.

“What is it, then? Your name.”

“…I’m Quincy.”

Shelley smiled. It was small, but it wasn’t fake, and that was surprising even to her. “It’s nice to meet you, Quincy,” she said genuinely.

Quincy smiled. It wasn’t much of a smile; he barely turned up the corner of his lips. Still, though, it was welcome. “You too,” he said quietly.

An awkward moment passed then. Shelley didn’t know what she should say, or what she could say. Whether he was gay or not, Quincy was still a boy, and Shelley knew what to say around boys even less than she knew what to say around girls.

Eventually, Quincy said, “I should clean up…”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good,” Shelley agreed, watching as he stood and dusted off his jeans. “I’ll see you around?”

Quincy cast a wry smile over his shoulder. “I doubt it.”

With that, he left Shelley to herself. Alone, she pulled out her library copy of Jane Eyre. She’d read it nearly seven times now, but it never seemed to get old. Sometimes she wished she could be more like Jane, who was so often chastised for her outspokenness, but she never could get a quick, witty remark to leave her throat. Instead, she’d just stare at the ground. But when she read… when she read, she could at least pretend for a while.

The school day dragged on. Shelley did her best to avoid being anywhere near Mr. Vaughn’s classroom, going so far as to take the long way to her last class of the day, Anatomy. Luckily, she didn’t have any other classes with Fayola, so she didn’t need to face that barrage of questions until tomorrow. Unfortunately, she did have her eighth period with Madeline Nelson, the undisputed Queen of Phillips High. She may have only been a junior, but she had the whole school wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger.

“Move it, Stick,” Madeline said coldly, brushing past Shelley. One of the girls she was with laughed and told her what a “good one” that was while Shelley flopped into her seat.

She couldn’t wait to get out of this hell…

The Forgotten Generation: Prologue

2011-08-25T00:41:00.003-04:00

So yeah. Of *course* this is a new story. XD
The chapters (and especially the prologue) are rather short, but I like them this way. I think it will give more of a chance to see each character individually.

The Forgotten Generation
Prologue

Madeline Brynn Nelson was Phillips High School’s own beauty queen. She had flawless skin, clear blue eyes and cascading black hair. Her figure was perfect, and her outfits were always flawless. Immaculate. Any outsider would say she had a perfect life.

Shelley Paige Underwood, on the other end of the spectrum, was occasionally called, by the nicer inhabitants of Parksville, “pretty…ish.” More likely, one would hear her referred to as bookish, or loner, or scrawny. On her worst days, people whispered about how grungy she looked; this look she sported was always chalked up to her being some sort of freak. Any outsider would say she just didn’t try hard enough to fit in.

Fayola Tanisha Iherjirika, Shelley’s close friend—possibly her only friend—was in a similar situation. Every day, she wore some new colourful and tribal dress, wearing her lineage with pride. In this rural town, her dark skin and strong accent marked her as the odd one out. It was said that she didn’t know her place. Any outsider would say that she might as well go back to Africa, for all the lack of American patriotism she showed.

Octavian Rainer Thornton, better known as Rainer, was yet another “freak.” Labelled as a jock his first year of high school, he wasn’t known for any shows of kindness. Instead, he settled his disputes with his fists—or, if you really got on his bad side, a switchblade. He spent more time suspended than he did in the classroom. Any outsider would say that he was a meathead wasting his life.

Quincy Parker Zoric, his best friend, was entirely different. He was soft-spoken and shy. Whenever his “bodyguard” wasn’t around, Quincy spent most of his time being shoved into garbage bins, lockers, or dark closets for being a queer. That was the sort of thing that happened to gays in a town of Bible-thumpers. Any outsider would say that he had it coming

These five students came from five different backgrounds, five different lives, five different homes, social statuses, classes, religions. They were five different people who never had the chance to see the bright light of day. These are their stories.

Don't You Hate it When...

2011-08-13T21:37:00.001-04:00

Something upsets you, but you can't say anything, because you'll feel like you're kicking a puppy? And in the end, you still end up feeling like the villain.

Yeah.

We All Have Our Demons (Ch. 4)

2011-07-03T18:16:00.002-04:00

We All Have Our Demons
Chapter Four: King Morgan, Denizen of the Vents

Dinner time rolled around. Morgan had had little progress with his new Make Some Friends Project. Everyone he talked to either seemed to hold a deep-seated personal hatred for him or were only interested in talking to themselves. And throughout all of it, he couldn’t help but keep thinking about the strange guy. He was so… mysterious. Morgan wasn’t used to being so intrigued by anyone, and especially not by anyone so incredibly bizarre.

Speak of the devil. Or think, in this case, as it were.

Morgan squeezed in between the mysterious blonde boy and some artificial redhead girl he hadn’t really noticed before.

“Hi,” Morgan said to the odd guy, “I think we’ve been getting off on all the wrong foot. All the wrong feet? Doesn’t matter. Let’s start over. I’m Morgan,” he introduced himself, extending his hand.

The guy stared at him for a moment, his face blank. Morgan wasn’t sure whether he was being analyzed meticulously or looked over as if he were invisible. Eventually, though, the dim blue eyes dropped to Morgan’s outstretched hand.

“Sven,” he said dully. He didn’t take Morgan’s hand. “And I’m leaving now.” And then he did. Leave, that is. Morgan stared after him, a bewildered expression on his face.

Well… at least he’d gotten some sort of response out of the boy—Sven—right? Morgan sighed. Why did it even matter so much? He wasn’t the sort of person to put forth this effort in getting to know someone. Perhaps he should just let it go…

It was just the memory of that scream that kept him at it. Since then, Morgan hadn’t seen even a glimpse of emotion from Sven. Not once. But last night, he’d been vulnerable. He’d been terrified. And he’d wanted the help. He wouldn’t admit it now, but he’d wanted someone to come find him. Now Morgan just had to find out why.

“Is he always like this?” Morgan grumbled to the girl beside him.

“The fuck should I know?”

“Chill out, homegirl; no need to get catty,” Morgan said defensively.

She rolled her eyes. “Fuck off.”

Morgan made a face. “The hell’s your problem?”

“I’m crazy, remember. Wasn’t aware I needed one.”

“Crazy’s seeing ballerina hippos and talking to the lights,” Morgan said, poking a fork at what Sven had left on his plate. “I don’t think you’re batshit crazy. At least not enough to excuse poor manners.”

“Thanks, cupcake. Your opinion on how crazy I am totally means the world to me.”

“Of course it does. I’m your fucking god.”

“Allow me to bow down before you then, my sire. King of the Crazies. What a fucking liberty,” she remarked, but she sounded amused.

“Pleasure to meet you, milady,” Morgan said, mocking an overdramatic bow. “Allow me to introduce myself. Morgan Leicester, King of the Kingdom of the Habersham Institute, spanning from… about that wall to this one.”

“Cerri Evans, at your service.”

“Ooh, I like her,” Xaphan interjected, his voice holding a touch of excitement.

“Not the time, Xaphan,” Morgan mumbled.

“You’re undermining my crazy,” Cerri said. “And it doesn’t mean much coming from you that I’m ‘normal’ if you’re going to talk to yourself half a minute later.”

“Never claimed you were normal,” Morgan said, leaning back in his chair. He cast his eyes around the room. Guards were stationed at every door. That was weird… If they were guarding all the exits, where had Sven gone?

Continuing to scan the walls, Morgan crossed his arms over his chest. So they were being held here with nowhere else to go; that was reassuring.

No, Morgan discovered, there actually were two doors that were left unguarded. But they didn’t seem to lead much of anywhere; they were doors to the restrooms. Well, if Sven thought that was a good escape plan, he was wrong, and Morgan planned to set him right.

“Alright,” Morgan said, standing, “I’ve got to make a trip to the little boys’ room.”

“Have a blast.”

“Oh, I plan on it.”

Morgan weaved his way through the tables. A couple of the guards gave him odd looks, but he ignored them in favor of slipping into the men’s bathroom.

It was tiny and cramped, but Morgan supposed it did its job; there were three stalls crammed in the small room, along with two sinks.

A gagging sound was coming from one of the stalls, coincidentally the only stall that was occupied. Was Sven choking?

“Sven,” Morgan said, knocking on the door, “Are you okay?”

“Go away.” The voice was hoarse, but it still didn’t seem to have much life behind it.

“Let me in.”

“No,” Sven said immediately.

“Alright,” Morgan sighed. He didn’t want to have to fit two teenage boys in one little stall, but that was how it was going to be, wasn’t it? He stepped into the next stall over and looked from the toilet to the walls. This was going to be interesting.

One hand bracing him against the wall, Morgan climbed onto the porcelain throne. He peered over the top of the stall to see Sven hunched over the bowl, apparently unaware of Morgan’s plans. Well, wasn’t he a bit naïve to think someone like Morgan would just leave it at that? Yeah, not going to happen, Morgan thought wryly.

He curled his fingers around the top of the wall and hoisted himself up, swinging a leg over with an “oof!”

“Wh-what are you doing?” Sven asked.

“You do have emotions!” Morgan exclaimed, swinging over his other leg and dropping onto the top of the toilet.

“Get the hell out!”

“No,” Morgan said simply. He glanced down at the bowl in front of him. That was… disgusting, to say the least. He glanced back up to Sven. Wait… “Sven, are you…?”

“Am I what?” he asked, standing shakily.

“Bulimic?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” That said, he unlatched the door and headed to the sinks.

“But that looked a hell of a lot like bulimia to me,” Morgan argued, following him.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sven said, turning on the tap. Morgan watched as he splashed some water onto his face then reached for a paper towel. “You should mind your own business.” Throwing away the damp paper towel, he brushed past Morgan on his way to the exit.

Morgan watched for a moment, debating whether or not to follow. There really wasn’t a whole lot else to do…

And then Morgan’s eyes lighted on a large vent above the sinks. Well, he’d seen people do it in movies…

“Really?” Xaphan asked, clearly amused. “That’s your justification?”

“Shut up. Do you have a better idea?”

Morgan heaved himself up onto the sink that Sven hadn’t been using, resting for a second in the basin as he stared up at the vent. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do this…

He stood in the basin of the sink and reached up to the vent. The cover was held in place by four rusted bolts screwed into the wall. He dug his fingernails under the edge of the metal and tried to pry it off, but of course, that was to no avail. It wasn’t steady, though; it moved a little. Switching tactics, Morgan stuck his fingers through the slats and wiggled it. There was definitely a lot of give to that. Wiggling it, he started to pull. Apparently whatever drywall this consisted of wasn’t in good shape; although it took a minute, the cover came off without much effort.

Morgan tossed the cover to the floor, where it clattered noisily against the tiles. He was sure this was a bad idea on his part, but he’d been full of them lately.

He hoisted himself up, the upper half of his body in the vent while his lower half dangled out helplessly. His feet scrambled at the wall to push the rest of himself in as he heaved himself forward with one huge grunt.

And then he was in. Wasn’t much to turning back now, as he barely fit in the vent as it were. It was like being in boot camp, crawling through the vent on his stomach. He wiggled along, feeling more and more like a snake, for what seemed like hours but was probably little more than a few minutes.

At last, there was another outlet. Morgan wriggled over to it, peering out between the metal slats. It looked like he was in the reception area. It was past visiting hours, though, and so it was completely deserted. Morgan grinned to himself; this was going to be good.

He used much the same trick he had earlier, jiggling the vent cover until it fell to the ground. He waited for a moment, but no one seemed to be around, so it looked like he was in the clear. In a move that could only be described as bumbling and idiotic, he plopped onto the ground.

“Fuck,” he hissed, curling in on himself. That had been unexpected. He’d thought he’d land gracefully. And less on his stomach.

“You’re not in one of those espionage movies,” Xaphan laughed.

“I hate you…” Groaning, Morgan pushed himself to his feet and examined his surroundings. These were the desks behind the scenes… No one would be here until morning. He headed out of that room and to the front desk.

The front desk kept a master key for each wing of the institution to allow visitors in to see patients during the morning hours.

“Let’s see,” Morgan said to himself. “Wing A… that will be this floor then. Wing B’s probably for those cutter kids.” Then he paused. Sven was in Wing B.

Morgan wondered if he screamed like that every night. Well, he’d find out come nightfall. He took the Wing B key as well as the one to his wing, Wing D, and hid them both in the waistband of his pants. He was going to wreak some havoc tonight.

He headed back to the vent he’d come from. It occurred to him now that perhaps he should hide all the evidence he’d left lying about, namely the deposited vent covers. He picked up this one and wheeled a desk chair over to the wall. How was he going to do this…?

Well, there was no way he was going to be able to put the cover back and still head back up the vent. That was out of the question. He could hardly squirm forward up there, let alone turn around to secure the vent cover.

Instead, he shimmied the cover behind one of the filing cabinets. Unless they decided to rearrange all the furniture, they wouldn’t find it.

Satisfied, Morgan nodded to himself and climbed onto the chair. This climbing business was starting to get old. Nonetheless, he heaved himself halfway into the vent, kicked the chair away from the wall, and scrambled inside.

Now, there was nothing to do but wait for curfew.

We All Have Our Demons (Ch. 3)

2011-07-02T05:41:00.002-04:00

We All Have Our Demons
Chapter Three: Of Making Friends... Or at Least Making the Attempt

Being tackled by the Incredible Hulk hurt like hell the next day. When Morgan woke, he felt achy and exhausted, and little else aside from the excruciating pain of existing.

“I told you it was a bad idea,” Xaphan snickered.

“Fuck off,” Morgan grumbled in lame response as he pulled himself to his feet.

He didn’t want to do anything today. He didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to think, he didn’t want to breathe—he didn’t particularly want to exist much, either. Unfortunately, he had a date with the psychiatrist, expedited by his so-called “need for rebellion.” Whatever the hell that meant.

“Shall I summarize the recent events?” Xaphan asked smugly as Morgan began trudging down the hall. “You chalked up the hostage situation as a mere teenage rebellion, and now you’re deliberately breaking curfew.”

“Once,” Morgan replied, dodging a nurse as he headed down the stairs. “I broke curfew once, because there was screaming.”

“I predict they think they’re dealing with an acute case of juvenile delinquency.”

“I predict you don’t know shit about psychology, anyway,” Morgan said, pausing at the landing. He cast a look toward the hall where he’d been caught last night. Whoever the guy was, his door was open now, and Morgan couldn’t see inside of it well enough to tell if anyone was home. He was probably just some nut job, anyway. These folks screamed bloody murder all the time, and for no apparent reason, at that.

Morgan sighed to himself and continued down the hall, headed toward the psychiatrist’s office. Still... as he walked, he couldn’t help but shoot another glance over his shoulder. There was something different about—

Morgan tumbled to the ground for the second time in twelve hours. Luckily, this time, he had something to break his fall: namely, another patient.

Another patient who happened to be extraordinarily familiar.

“Hey,” Morgan said, climbing off of the other male, “You’re the kid from last night.”

“Who…?”

“You—you were screaming, remember? I was outside your window. Come on, how often does that sort of thing happen? You don’t remember?”

“I—I should go…” Without another glance his way, the kid brushed past Morgan and slouched down the hall.

“Well, that was weird…” Morgan stared after him for a while. He wanted to follow and see just what was up with him, but if he didn’t show up to the appointment they’d scheduled for him, he’d appear even more “rebellious.” Man, did that ever irk him. Rebellious? As if this were simply a phase he was going through that made him act out in dramatic ways. It had nothing to do with rebellion and all to do with having Xaphan’s irritating fucking voice in his head.

“I don’t like him,” Xaphan commented eventually.

“Really? I think that means he’s my new best friend.”

“Hilarious.”

Morgan shrugged to himself. Xaphan didn’t like most people; his disapproval was rather ordinary. Even in Habersham, nothing had changed.

Give it time. That’s what his dad had always told his mom every time he did something awful. Whenever Morgan had another incident—whenever Xaphan had coerced him into doing something that wasn’t necessarily good—his dad had pleaded. Just give it time. Right, like Xaphan was going to just disappear one day. What were the odds of that, right?

“Not likely,” Xaphan sung as Morgan turned into the psychiatrist’s office. He had to bite back a response; even if the sham doctor already knew about the pleasure he apparently took in speaking to himself, Morgan didn’t plan on indulging the man just yet.

“Morgan Leicester,” the doctor, a balding man in his forties, greeted none too enthusiastically. Morgan was probably only seeing things, but he swore he saw a spark of insanity behind this man’s eyes. Who was supposed to be the crazy one in this room, anyway? “Please,” the crazy dude continued, “Take a seat.”

Morgan scowled at the chair he motioned to. “I’ll pass on that one, Doc. What’d you want to see me for?”

“I’ve heard… stories about you, Mr. Leicester. They aren’t flattering.”

Morgan tried on a half-hearted grin. “Haters gonna hate, sir. Is that all you wanted to see me over? A few rumors? Seems a waste of time.”

“Normally, it would be. However, with the… rumors… that are spreading of you, I thought perhaps it was due time we had our weekly chat.”

“Alright,” Morgan sighed, rolling his eyes, “Shoot. Whatcha got for me, Doc?”

“Why did you hold your chemistry class hostage?”

“I didn’t really hold them hostage. It wasn’t like I had a gun or a bomb or anything.”

“I was told you guarded the door with a knife and the fire extinguisher.”

“…well, yeah, but ‘hostage’ is really a bit of an exaggeration, isn’t it? I mean, I wasn’t, like, holding them for ransom, and I’m not a terrorist…”

“Then why don’t you tell me what your plan was.”

“What makes you think I had one?”

Ignoring Morgan’s response, the man continued to ask questions, almost as if interrogating his patient. “Who gave you the idea?”

“Saw it on TV once,” Morgan lied easily. “Are we done?”

“Do you have plans?” the man asked, a small smile on his face.

“Look, Doc, I mean, you’re great and all, but I don’t plan on spending the rest of my day here.” Morgan turned and started out the door.

“Who’s Xaphan?”

Morgan paused. To lie, or not to lie? Well, he’d surely be back eventually if the doctor wanted the truth enough. “I don’t have the slightest idea.” And with that, he made his leave.

Morgan guessed he could have said something more profound for his dramatic exit stage left, but it hadn’t occurred to him to prepare a monologue. He’d assumed the psychiatrist would do most of the talking; they always had in the past, at least. And when he had been allowed to talk, he’d spilled the beans about Xaphan.

At least it would be different this time. Things were changing. Even if he was stuck in this place, he’d prove to them sooner or later that he wasn’t really crazy. Hopefully sooner. He didn’t want to be here too long; this place was bizarre. And also full of crazy people who looked at him funny.

“Have you seen yourself lately?” Xaphan asked.

Morgan made a face. “What was up with you in the doc’s office? You could’ve thrown me a lifeline or something.”

“I live to serve you,” he drawled.

Shrugging, Morgan made his way to the recreation room. Normal, sane people socialized, and so that was what Morgan was going to do. He wasn’t sure with whom, or how, but he would. He had to prove to everyone that his being here was a huge mistake, that he really was sane, and that Xaphan wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

Upon reaching his destination, Morgan paused, his eyes scanning the room. Soon enough, they landed on a patient who was becoming more and more familiar. This time, though, Morgan had a second to give him a look-over, now that the guy wasn’t screaming or being knocked over.

He was blonde, and a little thinner than most. The white clothes nearly swallowed him whole. Bruises marred the amount of shoulders and upper arms that showed, and white, puffy scars seemed to lace the skin of his forearms together. He was quite obviously here for his self-inflicted injuries.

Besides the whole angsting teenager thing he had going, he seemed relatively sane, and that was better than anyone else in the room was doing. Other people were mumbling to themselves (as Morgan had to admit that he was wont to do most of the time) or staring off blankly into space, likely having received their medication not too long ago.

“Hi,” Morgan greeted. The other guy hardly even glanced his way. Well, that was a bummer. He didn’t seem to be making much progress with this guy. “I’m Morgan,” he attempted again. No response. Not even the slightest hint of acknowledgment. “So… do you always just stand here awkwardly and ignore people, or is it just me?” Still nothing. It was starting to look personal. “Look, I know you’ve got this whole antisocial thing really going for you, but I have to look as sane as possible…”

“You’re not good at it,” he finally mumbled.

Morgan wanted to rejoice in his success, but once he processed the words, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know when to leave well enough alone.” And then the blonde pushed past him, the touch weak and yet somehow enough to make Morgan give, and left.

Morgan blinked after him. What was up with that kid?

“You honestly don’t know, do you?” Xaphan asked, sounding highly amused and smug.

“Know what?”

“You don’t!” he cackled. “Oh, this is brilliant. I don’t see how you don’t see it!”

“What…?”

“You should pay more attention during story-time, Morgan,” Xaphan tutted. “You might have learned something.”

“I don’t get it.”

“And I’ll ensure you never will,” Xaphan murmured before receding a little, enough for it to return to Morgan’s memory that he was standing in the middle of the rec room.

He sighed and plopped next to one of the younger crazy mumblers. He supposed he couldn’t judge if he were going to talk to himself, too. Besides, maybe they weren’t crazy, either. It was a possibility, right?

“Hey, I’m Morgan,” he greeted.

This was going to be a long day.

We All Have Our Demons (Ch. 2)

2011-06-30T04:17:00.003-04:00

This hasn't been proofed or anything. I literally just finished it, but hey. XD It's 4am and I'm full of brilliance, yeah? Anyway, here's chapter two~

We All Have Our Demons
Chapter Two: Breaking Curfew Is The Prerequisite for Delinquency

Morgan woke with a start. He was drenched with sweat to the point that his mock hospital gown was damp, but he was so cold… He shivered and curled into himself on the hard bed. He didn’t remember anything beyond taking his medicine, but he knew it must have been bad. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have felt so terrible.

“Xaphan,” Morgan said, wiping at his sweaty forehead, “What did you do?”

“I did nothing,” Xaphan said, none too convincing. “I only relived a few of my finer moments. I could give you a recap—”

“Don’t you dare.”

“What are you going to do?” Xaphan laughed. Luckily, though, he let Morgan have this moment, his laughter fading into the background as Morgan pulled himself to a sitting position and cast a cursory glance across the room.

One good thing about being considered a threat to others was that Morgan didn’t share a room. He still stood firmly by the fact that he hadn’t actually harmed any of his hostages—only scared them a little—but he wasn’t going to complain that he was left to his own devices come night.

And it was especially handy because the guards, having believed him to be out of order for the night, hadn’t even bothered to lock his door. If someone else had shared the room with him, Morgan doubted that would have been the case.

“Where are you going?” Xaphan asked, reminding Morgan that there was nowhere to go. Even if he left his room, he was still encased by these brick walls. There was no escape until they chose to release you.

“Well, I can’t just sit here,” Morgan said decisively.

“You’re going to get caught,” Xaphan practically sang.

“So? I’m crazy, right? This seems like the sort of thing crazy people do.”

“Who are you trying to convince?”

Morgan flopped back onto the bed. “Okay, so it’s a shit idea. But what else am I supposed to do? They left the door unlocked.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“I’m not tired.” After a moment, Morgan stood up. “I’m doing it.”

“They’re going to confine you,” Xaphan murmured sweetly. “Then it will be just you and me.”

“It’s already just us,” Morgan returned, batting his sweat-soaked hair away from his face. He had very little desire to sit in a sparse room with only Xaphan to keep him company. At least if he were sleeping, he could dream about better times.

Morgan only opened the door enough to slip through the crack, and then he closed it quietly behind him. The hall was dark, lit only by dim light bulbs placed sparingly across the walls. It really seemed like he’d stepped directly into one of those creepy apocalypse films. Or even a ghost story set in an abandoned asylum.

Someone somewhere far off screamed. Loudly. Morgan jumped and looked around. It hadn’t seemed to come from this wing, at least; this was where they kept everyone who had been deemed “a threat to others.” Opposite this wing was solitary, and below it were those deemed “a threat to themselves.” Opposite that wing was the correction facility, which every patient visited at least weekly if not more so; there resided the psychologists, as well as (if rumors were to be believed) an operating room. The ground floor housed other patients, many self-submitted, as well as the nurse’s centre and the receptionist and the like.

Well, Morgan supposed that the most exciting thing to do would be to head to the correction facility. And on the plus side, that was the place likely to have the fewest guards, and there would be no fellow patients to sell him out.

Morgan tiptoed down the hall, passing by dozens of heavy doors with sturdy glass windows, until he reached the centre of the building, where the flight of stairs was.

“Why would you go toward the surgical rooms?”

“What, afraid I’ll get them to cut you out?” Morgan said, stepping lightly down the stairs. He reached the landing and paused. He heard… someone else was walking on this floor. Morgan peered out from the archway to see a stocky man in white lazily patrolling the hall. Shit. He hadn’t considered the possibility of meeting a guard on his way there.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” Xaphan said with a laugh at Morgan’s misfortune.

“Shut up,” Morgan hissed.

Without a glance his way, the security guard continued walking, heading into the correction facility wing. Morgan exhaled slowly. That could have ended badly. Morgan peered down the hall again to see the guard disappear into a room.

Just then, another scream erupted, and this time, Morgan could tell where it was coming from; it was just down the hall, where the guard had come from. Morgan had to see what was up. Sure, loud, sudden noises weren’t abnormal in a mental institution, but this didn’t sound like your run-of-the-mill crazy guy shouting in the middle of the night. It was pure, raw terror and pain, and Morgan wanted to see what had caused it.

“Now you’re running toward the blood-curdling screams,” Xaphan whispered. “I thought you were sane.”

“Yeah, well, no one else does,” Morgan replied quietly, searching for the source of the scream. It was definitely male, and it had definitely come from this wing. Morgan mentally reviewed the layout; this was where the self-harmers were kept.

“Perhaps he’s succeeding. It really is none of your business.”

“Shut up.” As he continued down the hall, he could hear sobs from some of the other rooms. He’d expected this wing to be much quieter, in all honesty; he figured the ones suffering from depression wouldn’t make much noise. Apparently he’d been wrong about something somewhere along the line. “Now, where is he?”

“Who?”

“Stop playing dumb. You heard him,” Morgan said as he began peeking into rooms.

“What does it matter?”

Morgan paused. “Are you… afraid? Of him?”

Morgan didn’t listen for a response, because another scream resounded, shaking him to the core, and he bolted down the hallway. It was farther down, but not much… He stopped suddenly and started looking through more windows. It had to be around here somewhere.

And then he found the room he was looking for. A boy about his age was backing himself into a corner, staring at something invisible with terrified eyes.

“That’s him,” Morgan said, jiggling the handle. It was locked, of course; he didn’t know why he’d bothered. But he couldn’t just leave him… He let out another scream, and Morgan looked around, worried. He hoped everyone else was used to his noise; he didn’t particularly want to get caught because this guy attracted too much attention.

But how was he going to help? He didn’t exactly have a key. But as he let out another pained scream, Morgan couldn’t help himself. He jiggled the handle again, but of course, doors don’t magically unlock.

The jiggle, though, caught his attention. He looked to the window with wide green eyes, his body trembling.

Morgan raised a hand to the glass, trying to show that he wasn’t there to harm him, although he didn’t think he communicated the message very well; the guy only continued to stare at him. Morgan started to drop his hand—obviously whatever he’d assumed would happen wasn’t going to—but then the guy took a step forward, acknowledgment dawning in his eyes.

Help, he mouthed. Morgan’s face twisted into a guilty one; he couldn’t. Not only did he not know how, but he couldn’t get in to see the guy. Unless…

“Xaphan, I don’t suppose you know where I could find a bobby pin.”

The doors were held shut by two locks: a deadbolt and your normal, everyday locks. All the deadbolt required was turning a knob; simple and easy enough to take care of. In fact, it was the stupid “normal” lock that was causing the issue here. However, it wasn’t especially complicated, and if Morgan just had the right tool…

Xaphan, of course, wasn’t being helpful. Morgan hadn’t really expected more assistance, but he’d at least expected a response. Instead, he was playing the silent game. Didn’t bother Morgan as much as it could have; after all, at least he’d shut up for a moment.

“Hey!” Morgan nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden shout. He turned to see a man—the security guard he’d seen earlier—running at him. Not jogging, full-on running. What did he think this was, a track meet?

Out of instinct, and maybe possibly a hint of self-preservation, Morgan turned tail and began to run himself.

However, the security guard had a lot more time to pick up speed, and he was truthfully much more in shape than Morgan. In five seconds, he’d already caught up.

His broad shoulder slammed into Morgan’s back, and the momentum forced Morgan forward and to the ground. He grunted on impact, feeling his knee crash against the hard linoleum floor before the side of his face met it. His ear throbbed strongly and painfully, but he didn’t have much time to focus on that.

The man had him fully pinned, and he wasn’t even using both hands. Despite all of Morgan’s struggling, he wasn’t going anywhere.

A sudden, sharp prick to his thigh caused him to jerk. More medicine…

He lifted his head to see the face of the screaming male. He looked so sad…

“I’m sorry,” Morgan managed weakly before the medicine rendered him unconscious.

We All Have Our Demons (Ch. 1)

2011-06-29T14:07:00.003-04:00

Alrighty, so this is a new project I'm super-psyched about. I don't know where it's headed or how much of it will be finished, so it's not going up on FP yet, but I'm hoping that at least someone is a little excited to read it, so here's the first chapter~

We All Have Our Demons
Chapter One: Introducing Morgan, Classroom Terrorist Extraordinaire

Hearing voices wasn’t crazy… at least, not if they were there, right? That was what Morgan told himself. Of course, it wasn’t easy to believe that when there were people at every turn attempting to “fix” him.

One tiny little meltdown and they think you’ve gone absolutely bonkers. So what if he’d held his chemistry class hostage in the lab? They were really blowing the whole ordeal out of proportion a tad. Didn’t every teenager go through a rebellious phase? Sure, maybe Morgan’s was a bit more… extreme… than most others’ tended to be, but it had really sounded like a good idea at the time.

And it wasn’t like it had been his idea, either. That blame fell entirely on Xaphan.

Morgan had only wanted to be noticed, after all, and so he supposed that in that regard, the plan had succeeded. It was the rest of it that had dulled the joy of victory. Apparently holding a whole class hostage because someone they consider your “imaginary friend” suggested it gets you an immediate first-class flight to the loony bin, which was precisely how Morgan Kale Leicester found himself in the freaking Habersham Institute, despite not being insane at all.

“You held a class hostage,” Xaphan remarked with a cackle.

“Well, it was your brilliant fucking idea!” Morgan argued aloud.

“What idea, dearie?” an elderly lady across from him asked.

“Not you,” Morgan all but snarled. The woman just settled back down in her chair, her eyes focusing on something only she could see. Meanwhile, Morgan stood. He had to get out of here. Why didn’t they believe him? “I’ll just go tell them I’m not crazy, then,” he said, making to march over to one of the guards.

“Perhaps you should stop speaking to no one, then,” Xaphan suggested with a snicker.

“Perhaps you should fuck off,” Morgan retorted, more loudly. In retrospect, that wasn’t his best idea; the nearest worker immediately set his eyes on Morgan, who knew then that his plan had already failed. He wasn’t going anywhere if they kept catching him doing things that were... well, crazy, for lack of a better word.

It was bad enough that they refused to believe the voice was anything other than a creation of his own imagination. Add talking to himself aloud and holding classes hostage to his rap sheet, and he supposed that to an outsider, he must have looked pretty damn crazy.

But that didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t. Xaphan was real. His father said so, and his grandfather had said so, and Morgan was certain that if he’d ever had the chance, his great-grandfather would have agreed, as well. Morgan couldn’t say with any certainty what it was or why it was, but he knew that there was something about the Leicester family, something that must have attracted Xaphan.

Of course, he still wasn’t sure what Xaphan was or why he was, and Xaphan himself was far from helpful. The last time Morgan had asked him what he was, Xaphan had decided it was storytelling time. And Xaphan’s stories were far from pleasant. Now, Morgan knew all about genocide but still very little about what or who Xaphan was.

Sighing, Morgan leaned against one of the white walls. He knew that soon it would be time for everyone’s medicine. He never looked forward to medication.

When he wasn’t himself, Xaphan was stronger, and apparently Xaphan had made it his new goal to break Morgan. Whenever Morgan wasn’t completely in control, Xaphan could—and would—show him anything.

Morgan hadn’t said as much aloud, as if only thinking it would keep the information private, but he was petrified that one day, Xaphan would be able to do more than simply make him see something. He worried every time he took his medicine that this would be the day Xaphan took control over him. And maybe Morgan’s body wasn’t particularly huge or strong, but he didn’t doubt Xaphan’s ability to win in a fight. Xaphan wouldn’t use brute force; he used every weakness you had to his advantage, and he didn’t shy away from playing dirty. He broke your mind and soul, and then he broke your body. He made you think there was no hope so that you wouldn’t fight back or call for help. Xaphan was the most dangerous sort of nemesis.

As if cued, one of the nurses appeared with a tray of medicine cups filled with pills.

“Morgan Leicester, your medication,” she said, extending one of the cups to him.

“I don’t want any,” Morgan attempted. “I’m fine.” Sane, he added mentally.

The nurse, a broad older woman Morgan’s dad would have referred to as “an ol’ battleaxe of a woman,” stared at him, seemingly unimpressed. “Your medication,” she repeated, almost as if she were preprogrammed to say only that.

Morgan took the cup from her reluctantly. Hopefully she’d leave it at that, and later he could flush the pills. Apparently, though, the nurse didn’t approve of this plan; she’d probably seen it a thousand times before.

“Take your pills,” she demanded.

Morgan raised them to his mouth, and then he paused. He didn’t have many options. If he outright refused to take the pills, they’d probably use brute force, and they’d also think of him as more of a difficulty. Perhaps, in these circumstances, his best bet was to lay low and pretend to get better. Let them believe they’d “cured” him of whatever illness they’d decided he had.

Still, he didn’t want to give Xaphan the chance to try anything.

Morgan popped the pills into his mouth and stared at her, raising an eyebrow. He hoped she was satisfied now.

“Swallow,” she ordered.

Jesus, what the hell was this woman? The Spanish Inquisition?

With no small amount of hesitance and reluctance, Morgan obeyed her command. The pills scratched his throat uncomfortably, as he hadn’t been given any water to help them on their way down. In fact, he didn’t think he’d had anything to drink all day.

“Happy?” Morgan deadpanned.

“Exuberant,” she responded with absolutely no amount of joy whatsoever. Morgan was beginning to believe one of the prerequisites for these jobs was being soulless.

Morgan slid down against the wall to land on the ground with a soft thud; he didn’t want to be standing when the medicine began to work its magic. He really didn’t think it was even medicine; he suspected they were just being given weird-ass hallucinogens at this point.

It didn’t take long for the world to begin to melt. Colors gave way to white blurs. Grotesque shapes that were only vaguely human bustled past Morgan, all of them eyeless and wearing toothy grins. Skeletal wings blossomed from their shoulder blades, knobby and gnarled. They began to crowd around him, their maniacal grins widening.

“My turn, Morgan,” Xaphan whispered. Morgan could almost feel his cold breath at his ear, feel his presence darkening the room.

“No,” Morgan said weakly, clenching his eyes shut. “Don’t… you can’t…” He tried to stand, but the ground seemed to have disappeared. He had nothing to stand on.

“Watch me.”

Morgan’s eyes snapped open. The strange creatures continued to lumber toward him, their grins transforming as they began to laugh. Morgan tried to get away, but there was a barrier behind him, and he still couldn’t find the ground. He lurched to the side, but he missed and fell.

“Stop,” he pleaded. “Please stop.”

The room darkened, and then became black as Morgan lost the fight for control. And then it was just Xaphan’s voice amidst a chorus of screams.

Nik

2011-05-25T00:31:00.002-04:00

I wasn't going to post anything about this, but I can't sleep, and it's really hard to think about anything else. So here goes.

Nik was and is and probably always will be the best friend I've ever had. He was just that one person I could trust unconditionally with my life. I shared just about everything with him, and as far as I know, he shared his life with me.

Years ago, I was the first person he came to after he was raped. And I mean the very first. We were both young, and he was terrified, and I was terrified, and it was awful. I don't think I'll ever forget crying with him on my front porch, or sneaking him into my house so he could scrub himself clean for three hours.

Not quite a year later, he told me he was HIV-positive. He hadn't been with anyone at all. I knew what hatred was then, because for the only time in my life, I hated someone. I hated what he had done to Nik.

It's hard to describe how much I hated this man. It's even hard to fully say why. My relationship with Nik was complicated. We were more than friends, but we weren't together in any romantic sense. We were what we were; there are no words for it. In a very real sense, he was my first love. Regardless of what anyone says, that was-- is-- what he meant to me. I was in love with him without being in love with him. He wasn't my world, but he was the sunshine in it.

After the test had come back HIV-positive, Nik moved with his family to New Zealand. I think he had relatives there, although I'm still not sure. When we did talk, which was rare, we tried not to talk about anything serious. We were still closer-than-friends, and we'd determined that we always would be, but the separation made that impossible. Meanwhile, I moved about 2000 miles and was dealing with a life of my own. We sort of began to fall out.

A few years passed during which we had sporadic, meaningless conversations, and then he phoned me to tell me possibly the first serious thing since the move: he'd met someone. I had mixed emotions. I was thrilled to hear him sound so excited and happy and hopeful, and I was a little concerned because I couldn't be there to interrogate the man for him, but mostly, I was disappointed in myself because I hadn't been able to get that reaction out of him ever since the incident. Nonetheless, after I spoke with Chris, I loved him, too. Things were looking up.

Then he began getting sick. I kept in close contact with Chris and Nik's parents. He went in and out of the hospital numerous times, and every time, he got better. He was just that sort of person. We sometimes joked when he was healthy that he wouldn't ever let anything get him down, incurable illness be damned.

He died.

I met with Chris, who had told me the news. He said he came on his way up to Indiana, where Nik and I had met, because he knew how much Nik and I meant to each other. He thanked me for everything, and I thanked him, and we spent the night mourning together. Although I haven't seen him since and I probably never will, I'll always be grateful to him for making Nik's last few years here happier.

Even so, I can't help but feel angry, but I don't know whom I'm angry with. Everyone, I suppose. I'm angry with everyone. I'm angry with the man who raped Nik. I'm angry with Nik's parents for not keeping him inside that night. I'm angry with Chris for being too late.

But more than that, more than anyone else, I'm angry with myself. I feel like I let him down somehow, like I wasn't there for him like I should have been. I feel like maybe I should have probed deeper, should have forced the serious conversations, because maybe if I could figure out how to make him just that much happier, maybe he wouldn't die. I'm angry because he's gone, and I didn't tell him I love him, because I was so damn sure he'd get better. I'm angry because it kills me to write about him in the past tense, because I know he's still here. He has to be.

If he's gone, the sunshine's gone. I don't want to live in eternal darkness.

The Worst Decision of my Life

2011-01-12T17:49:00.003-05:00

I wish I could tell her that I love her, but I can't. Not after what I did. How could I say that I love her more than anything in the world? How could I tell her that when I tried to fucking cheat on her? I don't deserve to think even for a second that she should be mine.

Why do I always have to cause trouble? I've never so much as considered cheating on anyone before, but then when I think I've finally found something worthwhile, I turn into a no-good dirty whore. I'd found my special someone, and now here I go trying to drive her away.

And that's why I don't deserve her. And I feel guilty and horrible and awful, and she's being so damn understanding that it only makes it even more apparent how little I've done to deserve anything she's given me.

So what if I made her happy? That was temporary. She's trying to play it off, but I hurt her. I. Hurt. Her. That's almost enough to make me want to die as it is. Add in the fact that I'd done this by means of doing something I'd already told her I wouldn't do, and I don't see how she could ever forgive me. I sure as hell wouldn't forgive me. I don't.

So maybe some people would say I'm overreacting. But I'm not. I don't take things like this lightly. I don't see how she is. Isn't the person being cheated on supposed to feel worse? I don't see how she could. I don't know how I'll ever feel whole again. I feel disgusting, and technically speaking, I didn't really do anything. But I did enough damage.

So, Jess, when you read this. If you can bring yourself to read this. I love you. I love you so fucking much. But I can't tell you that directly-- not anymore. It only sounds like a lie. It isn't. I mean it. And if I could turn back time, I'd deal with the anxiety and the nerves and the starvation because I feel less alive now than I did then. I repulse myself; I wouldn't be surprised if I repulsed you, too. You have every right to end things now. But if you're going to do it, please fucking do it, right now, this very moment. I can't bear the thought of you allowing this to fester if it's eating you as much as it's eating me. You tell me it's okay and that you forgive me, but if it turns out that it's not... I'll die. And I'd hope that you don't hate me quite that much. So I don't know how to end this post, but I think I've said everything. Hopefully your thoughts make more sense than mine do.

Empyrian Post 20

2010-11-28T16:26:00.003-05:00

As stated in the last post, this will take place after Posts 3 and 6.

Chapter 19: Rescue Time

“Kavo! Hawk!”

With a tired groan, Kavo woke sluggishly. Beside him, he felt Hawk slowly stir to life.

“Hawk!” The voice continued to shout. “Kavo!”

Kavo groaned again and resisted the urge to bury his head and shy away from the loud noises. Hawk, using the only useful limb he had left, managed to sit up and then push his hair out of his face.

“Did you hear that as well?” he asked in a long-suffering tone.

“Yeah,” Kavo replied, “I think so.”

They both winced as the voice called for them again. Now that Kavo was awake, he was reasonably sure that he recognized that voice as a certain amiable youth. Had Aizel found them already?

“We are alive,” Hawk shouted back, making Kavo’s ears ring.

“Fuck, Chayton, warn me next time before you try to scream off my ears.”

“I apologize,” he said with a look that clearly said he didn’t.

Foliage outside rustled. Kavo heard Aizel mumbling something to himself, probably in search for wherever his friends were hiding. Kavo was working on standing when Aizel finally ducked into the cave.

“I can’t believe you two are alive!” he breathed excitedly. Relief flooded Kavo; now that they’d been found, he could relax a little. “We were all so worried. Even Zeric and Belle were scared something had happened to you.”

“Well,” Kavo said, “Hawk’s not exactly in the best of states. He’ll need someone to take good care of him.”

Hawk gave him another look, one that said that if it weren’t Kavo, he didn’t want anyone near him. Kavo could understand; he could tell how much Hawk hated being viewed as weak, and such injuries were definitely weaknesses. He also knew that Hawk didn’t particularly like anyone looking at his scars. The fact that he’d let Kavo trace over them was surprise enough.

Aizel just smiled at them brightly. Kavo realized that he must have known what was going on then. How long had he known? The whole time? Or did he only just figure it out?

“Are you guys ready to head back to the ship?”

“I think so.” Kavo finally stood and held out a hand for Hawk, who took it gratefully. It took him a moment to stand with only that useful hand. “I don’t suppose you have any replacement hands for him onboard, do you?” he half-joked.

“Not any good ones. We have the first one he used to use, but anything like the one he had takes hours to attach or detach, so we didn’t think it would ever need replaced…”

“I didn’t know he ever used a different one,” Kavo remarked.

“Oh, it was a long time ago. Two years or so.”

Kavo sighed. If he hadn’t let Hawk run away on his own, he would still have that high-quality hand that he deserved.

“Is there any way to get another one?” Kavo asked.

“Maybe if we head back to Sol,” Aizel said. “Anyway, Mum’s going to be getting impatient soon. The ship’s just outside; I’ll go tell her you’re both okay.”

As Aizel jogged off, Kavo stared at the ground. He should have been there for Hawk to prevent this sort of injury.

“Kavo, do not blame yourself. I was the one who disappeared before the sunrise.”

“I know, but… I shouldn’t have agreed to let you leave.”

“I would have regardless of whether you wanted me to go or not.”

Kavo rested his head on Hawk’s shoulder lightly. “Don’t do this again, Chayton. It hurts.”

“I will be okay; I promise. We will steal another prosthetic for me, and I will teach you how to attach it. There is no need for such theatrics.”

“I know…”

“Let us make our way to the airship, my tackila. I do believe Aizel said that his mother was growing impatient in wait.”

Kavo smiled, unsure. “Right.” He wrapped his arm back around Hawk’s waist and started leading him back out of the mouth of the cave. He tried to comfort himself with the thoughts that at least they were both alive and well, but it didn’t work. He still felt guilty that Hawk was injured and that the mechanical hand he wore had been ruined. Now, all that remained was the metal ring on his arm that they likely used to attach it.

“You are still blaming yourself.”

“No I’m not,” Kavo argued.

“You are. I can tell. Kavo, you know that I would have done this regardless of whether you even existed. Why do you blame yourself? If anything you have saved my life. I would have died without you.”

“I just feel like you rushed to do this because of me. You had been perfectly content to live on the airship until two nights ago.”

“And why do you think that was?”

“I don’t know,” Kavo groaned, frustrated.

“Kavo, you gave me a reason to live. I had thought that when I attempted this, I would be killed; I had known that my life would not continue for long. Yet when I kissed you, that changed. That first time we kissed, Kavo, my world was perfect. I was so afraid I would lose you and so afraid that I did not deserve you that I let those fears keep me from happiness. When we made love, I was determined that I would not be restrained by my fears any longer. I knew that I could fight.”

“So it is my fault,” Kavo murmured.

“If you want to see it that way, yes, it is your fault that I feel happier than I have been for years. Even injured, I am happy. Before you, I was never happy. Would you prefer me uninjured and apathetic or injured and pleased?”

“I like you happy,” Kavo said, “But I don’t want you hurt, ever. I wanted to protect you from the world.”

“Kavo, I do not need your protection. I need your love and your commitment, and I need your support, but I do not need your protection.”

“I know you don’t need it. Tell me this, though: do you want to protect me?”

“Of course I do.”

“I don’t need it, either.”

Hawk gave a wry smile. “I suppose you may have this victory. I can see your point.”

Finally at least slightly pleased, Kavo led the way outside into the glaring sun. Luckily, their destination was not too far away; Kavo was starting to get fatigued from carting around a man who was practically twice his weight.

“Hawk! Kavo!” Surprisingly, it was Torian’s voice which broke the silence. “Do you need help?”

Hawk opened his mouth to protest someone else’s hands on him, but Kavo replied with a grateful, “Please.”

Soon, Torian’s arm was wound around Hawk’s midsection as well. Hawk looked much less than happy with the situation, but they made it onboard in record time and quickly escorted Hawk to his cabin to lie down. Torian bustled off to do something else, leaving Kavo to look over him.

He remembered the same sort of circumstances but with quite a different role.

“We’ve been this way before,” he noted. “This is my first time watching over you, though.”

“I have to admit that I have not been cared for since my arrival on this ship.”

“Why not?”

“I was never injured.”

Kavo’s eyes widened. “Never?” He’d been a great captain and soldier, but even he had sustained many injuries in battle. Hawk was an enormous target and he stood in plain sight on top of the lookout post, yet he’d never been injured. How was that?

“Never,” he confirmed.

“How? I mean, you’re not exactly an easy person to miss.”

“I always injured them first.”

Kavo laughed. “You are unbelievable.”

“Am I?”

“You are.” He leaned forward and kissed Hawk’s cheek. “If you need anything, you can call, but I think I’m going to go fill in your job. Aizel should be nearby in case of emergencies.” He headed for the door, his mood lifted slightly by Hawk’s good mood. At least if he could chat, his health wasn’t in too poor a condition.

“Kavo.”

“Hm?”

“…thank you.”

Kavo smiled over his shoulder. “Anything for you, Chay.”

“Do not call me that.”

Kavo laughed. “Hey, you have a nickname for me.”

“That is different. It is a pet name. Chayton is my real name; call me that if you must.”

Kavo rolled his eyes, still smiling. “Fine then, Chayton, if you insist.”

“I do.”

Kavo’s smile didn’t fade on his way out. Hawk was hilarious sometimes.

Empyrian Post 19

2010-11-28T15:04:00.002-05:00

Note: Takes place directly before Empyrian Posts 3 and 6. (So the next Post will be after them.)

Chapter 16: Bullets Kill

It took a while for Kavo to find his way back to the deck after he’d gotten lost again. By the time he finally emerged, the crew was already working into a battle-ready position; Hawk must have seen it, as well. Kavo made sure he still had the knife Aizel had given him, and then he began loading cannons with the rest of them.

“Kavo.”

Kavo turned. Esryn was behind him, looking extremely worried.

“What is it?”

“Kavo, that’s Laed’s ship.”

Kavo’s eyes widened. “What do you mean that’s Laed’s ship?” He looked to it. “That’s the commander’s ship! Since when—”

“Laed’s on it. They said that he was the best shot they’ve seen, but now I’m thinking maybe they just wanted someone who couldn’t talk.”

Kavo cursed. “We’ve got to do something. Let’s… let’s talk to Gwendolyn, and maybe…”

“You know that won’t work. The commander won’t back off just because the two of us are on this ship. After all, we were both failures.”

Kavo sighed. “Okay, how about… fuck, I don’t know…” He had to do something, though. He knew that if anything at all happened to Laed, Esryn would never recover. Together or not, Kavo had never seen two people more smitten with each other. He’d make sure this worked out somehow.

Slowly, a plan began to form in his mind. He could make it work, and make it look like they’d lost. All he’d need was Laed’s cooperation, and with Esryn onboard, that wouldn’t be difficult. This would work.

“Esryn, I have an idea.”

Five minutes later and Esryn declared that his idea was doomed to failure.

“It’s just… it’s ludicrous, Kavo! There’s no way. We’d have to get Laed to know, and you know it’s hard to explain things to people who can’t ask questions.”

“Es, you know he trusts you more than anyone. We’ll just get you over onboard, and it’ll be fine.”

Esryn bit his lip. “Yeah, but then you’d be alone here.”

“Hey, I’ve survived this long. I’ll live.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“Positive. Just one thing: don’t let him shoot me too badly.”

Esryn laughed. “No promises, but I’ll try. Should we… tell them?”

Kavo shook his head. “No. They won’t like the idea of surrender; they don’t believe in accepting defeat. Besides, they still don’t like you. They’ll think you’re just trying to get back with the government.”

“I guess you have a point there… but I just want to save Laed. Who knows what they’ve made him do over there?”

There it was. That glimmer of love that told Kavo that there was something else to life than just existing shone brightly, like it always had when Esryn had talked of Laed. He’d forgotten how compelling that look was; he couldn’t tell Esryn no when he wanted to help Laed.

“I know. But we’ll be fine. Laed needs you more than we do; I’m sure of it.”

A soft smile spread across Esryn’s face. “Thanks, Kavo. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“Just make sure Laed’s safe. He was my friend, too.”

“Of course.”

The ship began to come into view, and Kavo pushed Esryn toward the edge. “Get ready. I don’t want them too close for long.”

Esryn grinned over his shoulder. “Yes, sir, Captain Dula.”

Cannons began to fire as the ship grew closer. The familiar smell of gunpowder filled the air as cannonballs soared, but both Esryn and Kavo ignored the chaos that erupted; they had a plan to execute, and it needed to be executed nigh perfectly.

The moment they were close, Esryn leapt like a gymnast. He soared through the air and landed with a perfect somersault on the other ship’s deck. Kavo let out a shaky breath; at least part of their plan had already worked.

Kavo could see a smaller blonde stop in his tracks at the sight of Esryn, and he smiled. They already had Laed’s attention, luckily enough. Now all Esryn had to do was convince him to shoot Kavo and not make it a fatally wounding blow.

Kavo nearly groaned when Esryn grabbed Laed. They really didn’t have time for that sort of greeting. He really did groan when Esryn decided to kiss Laed. Had Esryn entirely forgotten about their plan? If he didn’t remember it soon, one of them was going down at the very least.

Finally, Esryn pulled away and whispered something to Laed. Laed’s eyes widened in shock, but he nodded. His crystal eyes searched the ship until they landed on Kavo. With what was probably as close to an apology as Laed could manage, Laed raised his revolver, aimed, and fired.

The bullet pierced Kavo’s chest, far too close to his heart for comfort. Still, Laed had the skill that it wouldn’t kill him as long as he received treatment. That was what Kavo had been counting on.

Unfortunately, Kavo couldn’t quite communicate that it was a job well done. A mixture of shock and blood loss was already doing him in. He choked on air as his knees began to buckle. Slowly, he crumpled to the ground.

Around him, he heard the chaos come to a head. Maybe his plan hadn’t worked as well as he had thought.

Then, he felt their ship begin to land; it was fast enough that he was all but free-falling. Maybe it had worked; maybe his life was important enough to them to forestall the battle for now.

“Kavo!” a deep voice shouted. That voice should have been much farther away if they were still fighting. It had worked.

Kavo smiled dreamily. He’d done it. Esryn and Laed could have their happy ending.

“Kavo, this is no time for napping. Open your eyes.” When Kavo didn’t obey Hawk’s orders, he felt his shirt being ripped open. “How dare they…”

Kavo gripped Hawk’s arm. “Don’t. I asked them to. It was… the only way… I’m sorry…” His voice trailed off into a coughing fit.

“Do not apologize. Stay awake.”

A shaky smile came over Kavo’s face. “You’re panicking,” he whispered.

“It does not matter if I am panicking,” Hawk hissed. “Please, do not leave me…”

“I’m sorry,” Kavo managed.

Those were the last words Kavo could even think before the demon that was unconsciousness took him into its claws. He didn’t feel Hawk gripping onto him desperately. He didn’t hear Aizel’s yells. He didn’t feel it when he was lifted and carried away from sight.

He only felt peace.

Empyrian Post 18

2010-11-28T13:15:00.000-05:00

Chapter 15: Incredibly Short Filler

Nearly a whole month passed during which Esryn did everything asked of him and Kavo and Hawk did their best to avoid each other despite sharing a room. It sometimes went so far that Hawk wouldn’t even return to the cabin at night. No one was entirely sure where he went elsewhere; all they knew was that he didn’t sleep on those nights, because the next day clouds of exhaustion would show deep in his eyes.

And Kavo took it upon himself to stare desperately at those clouds every chance he got. He missed the glint of Hawk’s eyes; he missed their golden glimmer, their amber sheen. He longed for the smouldering look that they had sent him once. Once and only once, he thought to himself wryly.

Atop Kavo’s shoulder, Rafael fiddled with the beads around his so-called owner’s neck while Kavo wound through the maze below deck. He’d been told to give some sort of weird blueprints to Torian, but it was mind-numbingly hard to find him behind all the equipment. Still, it was the only duty Kavo had been given outside of, “Watch Esryn and make sure he doesn’t try to murder everyone,” as if the man had a back-up crew hiding in the floorboards. Really, he wished that they could have trusted his judgment. Esryn was a good, just man.

Kavo finally gave up on finding Torian through sheer dumb luck, and he shouted, “Torian, are you down here?”

Torian’s dark head peeked out from behind what Kavo guessed to be some sort of water heater.

“Did you bring those papers?” he asked. As always, Torian didn’t seem one to make idle chit-chat, but his tone had finally grown less hateful and much friendlier. Still, the only person Kavo had ever seen him simply talk to was Aizel; it made sense, seeing as they’d apparently known each other forever. After all, the person Kavo wanted to talk to the most was Esryn, who he’d known since their boyhood days in school.

“Yeah,” Kavo said eventually, handing over the papers in question.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

They stood in awkward silence for a moment longer, not sure how to properly end the conversation. Luckily enough for them, they didn’t have to, because Rafael decided that it hadn’t been recently enough that he’d acted out of line.

The beads around Kavo’s neck suddenly came off, clasped tightly in Rafael’s tiny hands. With a mischievous laugh, Rafael skittered off.

“Raf! You get back here, you stupid— you ass!” Groaning, Kavo sprinted after him, completely forgetting that he’d even been speaking to anyone. Those beads were important to him; they were the ones Helaku had given him.

Kavo raced after the monkey, winding through the maze without thought as he tried to keep up. Metal whizzed past him. A small voice in the back of his mind told him that perhaps he should pay attention to where he was running, but he didn’t care; he was only thinking of the gift from Helaku, that memoir that had made him remember why life was worth living.

At long last, Rafael paused at the top of a set of stairs. Kavo stopped, too, at the bottom to catch his breath. Mindlessly running after him might only end in losing the beads for good once they were back on the weather deck; Rafael could be tricky and sneaky when he wanted to be, and Kavo was sensing that he quite wanted to be that day.

Eventually, Kavo was sure he had gathered the necessary strength. He took a deep, steadying breath for preparation. Then he vaulted himself forward, over the stairs, and latched onto Rafael.

The two of them tumbled over the landing and fell off a low ledge, Rafael screeching and shrieking the whole way until they landed on a cold cement floor. Kavo clutched Rafael tightly to his chest.

“You little twat, give me those.”

Whining pathetically, Rafael released the beads. Kavo snatched them up and then let Rafael go; the monkey scampered away back the way they had come.

Kavo, on the other hand, looked up.

“Whoa,” he breathed. He’d read of these places, but he hadn’t even thought that this airship was old enough to have one; his own hadn’t been, and he knew Esryn’s hadn’t either. He hadn’t imagined that something as simple as an aged observatory would look so beautiful. He could stay out there all day.

The sun had never seemed so bright.

And then, from afar, Kavo saw another airship. It seemed it was time to fight again.

I've come to the conclusion that I'm broken.

2010-11-27T20:09:00.002-05:00

No, really. I think I'm broken.

Today I discovered a few things about myself.

1.) When faced with adversity, I abandon all logic. Now, I pride myself on my skills in solving riddles and puzzles and all sorts of logical type things; hell, I passed the AP Physics exam. But in real-life scenarios, I never resort to common sense.

For example. I have had a migraine for five hours straight. I tried watching a movie. I tried eating ice cream. I consumed copious amounts of caffeine and chocolate. All this accomplished was transforming me from a mildly irritated migraine victim to a migraine victim who was so awake she could feel the earth vibrating.

So what did I do? I walked in circles. I fucking PACED. I paced like I was a professional pacer in the Pacing Olympics. Needless to say, migraines trump pacing.

When pacing failed, I flopped on my floor. I lay there in agonizing misery. No more attempts to quell my headache from hell were made.

Then, of all things, my brother set off the house alarm. Instead of doing anything, I cradled my head and sobbed uncontrollably. I win at life.

2.) I have a crippling, all-consuming fear of finishing anything. Now, I had never really noticed this before today. But after 45,000 words out of 50,000 for the NaNo novel, I physically COULD NOT do anything more. I stared at it. I pounded helplessly at the keys. Nothing worked. That was when I realized it.

I've never finished anything in my life. Not really. Things that should be over, that normal people would consider over, they're just not. And I can't help it. I've tried to, but it doesn't work, and I don't really know where I'm going with this, but I feel like if I just complain enough, if I address the problem, maybe it will go away.

It isn't.

3.) I'm incapable of expressing the right emotions.

When I'm sad, I smile and laugh. When I should be unbelievably ecstatic, I'm overcome with depression. Even right now, when everything in my life is turning out, I just want to get out. I don't even know what I want to get out of, but I feel trapped. And why the hell should I? I'm trapped in a perfect fucking world, and I can't escape.

Normal people would be happy with this life. At least, I imagine they would. I don't have cancer and my house isn't haunted and I don't think I have any untreatable genetic disorders and I'm not starving or freezing to death, so why aren't I happy?

I think I'm broken.

Empyrian Post 17

2010-11-27T00:00:00.002-05:00

Chapter 14: Trial and Error

“You know, when you said you had a monkey, I thought you were making a racist joke,” Esryn said, his voice muffled and his face hidden behind Rafael.

“I’d wondered why you laughed…”

Esryn slowly peeled the monkey off his face, but he couldn’t seem to detach Rafael’s hands from the rings that were strung through his brow. “Kavo,” Esryn whined, “Get him off.”

“Alright,” Kavo groaned. He leaned over to pry Rafael’s tiny fingers off, but he seemed quite determined to hold on; his screeching alone was enough to attest to that. “Ugh, c’mon, just… Raf, please…”

Finally, with one last screech, Rafael released Esryn’s face, slipped through both men’s hands, and scampered off. The damage was done, though: Esryn and Kavo sat staring into each other’s eyes, faces mere inches apart.

“Kavo,” Esryn whispered. “We really… shouldn’t…” The words were cut off as Kavo kissed him so adamantly that Esryn fell back against the bed. Kavo felt the familiar warm metal rings against his lips; he’d once stared at the sterling silver piercings with trepidation and distaste, but that had long faded. Even so, he’d never imagined that he’d have them pressed against any part of his body the way they were now. More importantly, he’d never imagined that he would initiate such contact.

The door slammed.

Kavo jolted and sprang off of Esryn, touching his fingers to his lips. Had he really just done that? And who had seen them?

“I’m sorry, Esryn,” Kavo muttered. “I still can’t be with you. I don’t know what I was thinking; it’s just… sexual frustration.”

“I figured,” Esryn breathed. A moment passed before he said, “Damn, you do know how to kiss, though.”

Kavo wanted to thank him for the compliment, but he was too lost in thought. Someone had seen them. Would they worry that Kavo was a traitor? No one knew what Esryn was really like, and no one knew the strong bond between them. They wouldn’t understand how Kavo’s say-so could alter anyone’s perception, let alone the perception of the captain of a government airship. They wouldn’t see that Esryn was different than the others.

“Kavo,” Esryn breathed.

“Yeah?”

“You know that if you want a fling…”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” he said. “I don’t. It’s not that I’m afraid of things changing, Es, but it’s just… you’re you, y’know? I’ve known you since we were twelve. Sleeping with you would be weird.”

Esryn grinned, still lying on the bed. His dark blue hair was strewn across the bed, shining under the lamplight. Kavo knew it to be softer than it looked. He knew that if he wanted to get back into things, Esryn wouldn’t stop him; he knew that Esryn would likely encourage it.

But the thing was, Kavo didn’t want to get back into things. Esryn was nice, exotic, sweet, and had the best abs that Kavo had ever seen, but Kavo wanted someone else. He wanted Hawk. He wouldn’t settle for anything less.

“I’m sorry. I should go explain things to whoever saw us…”

“It’s okay. I understand, Kavo; you’ve got another man. Doesn’t hurt my feelings any.”

Kavo snorted. “Your feelings don’t make me feel any less guilty.” He leaned over and brushed his lips against Esryn’s again. Esryn sighed and kissed him back, but it remained light and chaste; it was hardly romantic at all. “Sorry.”

“No problem.”

Kavo kissed his hand. “Thanks for always sticking with me.”

“Really, Kavo,” Esryn said, “This isn’t necessary. Now go and sweep your man off his feet, would you?”

“I knew you were my favourite for a reason.” Kavo kissed his cheek. “Tell you what, when we finally go home, I’ll make damn sure Laed finally gives you a chance.”

“Thanks. It means a lot, Kavo.”

“Hey, it’s the least I could do.” Kavo squeezed Esryn’s shoulder as he stood. “Wish me luck. Hopefully I’ll return with all my major organs intact.”

Kavo headed out. He hoped that Esryn was okay with everything because he really liked having a true, long-term friend onboard, but he knew how hard rejection could be. Even if Esryn had no romantic feelings for him— which he was sure was the case, seeing as Esryn and Laed had loved each other for as long as he could remember—he had led Esryn on without even realizing it.

He wondered if Esryn felt anything like he had felt when Hawk had done much the same thing.

Hawk. Was it Hawk who had walked in on them? That was the only person who made sense; anyone else would have knocked before walking into a room that didn’t belong to them.

Well, fuck.

Kavo spotted Hawk sitting against a wall. He had another stone out, and he was muttering something to himself. The pathetic sight did very little to make Kavo feel better about his actions.

“Hey, Hawk.”

Hawk stopped his mumbling, but he didn’t look up. “I had thought that you were a different sort of person, Kavo.”

“I am.”

“No, you are not. You do not care who you love, do you? People like you… it is sickening.”

“Hawk, you don’t get it. Esryn and I have known each other forever. That kiss, it was just a kiss. It didn’t mean anything.”

“That is your problem. Kissing should be much more personal than that.”

“And it usually is!”

“You kissed me,” Hawk reminded.

“Yeah, and I loved every fucking second of it.”

“…whatever. I do not care for your excuses.” Hawk stood and brushed past Kavo, bumping against his shoulder. Kavo closed his eyes and tried not to shudder at the electricity that coursed through him at what should have been considered a rather inane and unexciting touch.

Kavo knew then. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was in deep. He was in love with Hawk.

What to do about it was the bigger question.

Sighing, Kavo guessed he’d go back to Esryn. Maybe a night’s sleep would clear up whatever sickness he’d contracted. He had to cure it somehow, because it was glaringly obvious that Hawk was far from considering him as a partner in anything, let alone love.

Becoming Esryn’s next fling was beginning to sound more and more like a good idea. There would be no strings attached. There would be no feelings involved.
It would be a huge, fake lie.

Kavo couldn’t do that. He knew that Esryn was used to it, and that oftentimes Esryn preferred it, but he couldn’t do that to him; Esryn had been his best friend at one point in time, and Kavo loved him like a brother.

Even so, it was hard to deny that he was lonely. His hand had been forced to suffice for far too long. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something that Hawk had done to him had made it hard for that to be enough. He’d never cared so much for physical affection at all, except for maybe when he was young in the Academy, when he’d gone through puberty. But other than those couple of years, Kavo had never been so desperate.

Hawk had far too much power over him. If only Kavo could make him see for a moment what he wanted and how much he meant it. Then things would be okay. If only Hawk would take a moment to understand, then everything else would fall into place; he was sure of it.

For the first time in his life, Kavo found himself overcome with envy toward Esryn. Esryn could touch and kiss and fuck anyone he wanted, and still Laed loved him without a doubt. Kavo, on the other hand, couldn’t get Hawk’s attention for anything.

He heaved a heavy sigh and turned back. Might as well tell Esryn that he was a horrible, miserable failure.

The second he entered the cabin, Esryn bolted up in the bed and asked excitedly, “How did it go?”

Kavo shook his head. “It didn’t. I think he fucking hates me.”

Esryn tilted his head sympathetically. “That can’t be true, Kavo.”

“He said that people like me sicken him.”

“…okay, so maybe he does hate you, but it ain’t the end of the world! C’mon, there are other fish in the sea.” Esryn grabbed his hands and pulled him onto the bed. “One of you will come around.”

Kavo cuddled into his friend. He hated this sort of thing; he hated how Esryn made him vulnerable and cuddly and like a child’s toy, but he never had been able to stop it. Something about Esryn tore down all his walls.

“Es, what about you and Laed? Neither of you have come around yet. You’re both still in love with each other, but you act like you’ll never get together. Hell, last I knew, he was pretending to hate your guts.”

“That’s not true,” Esryn murmured. “Sometimes he says hello to me now.”

“That’s my point. What if we end up like the two of you? Es, I don’t want to be another bad example.”

“Thanks. Really. You know how to warm a man’s heart.”

“I’m just saying! Maybe I’m not cut out for romance. It’s not like I was ever really good at it back in the day.”

“Yeah, you were pretty hopeless… that’s not the point, though. Kavo, you have to chill. Don’t worry about everything so goddamn much.”

“I can’t help it, Esryn! Fuck. He’s gotten to me. I mean, he’s gotten to me bad.”

“What are you saying?” Esryn asked slowly.

“I’m saying I think I’m in love now.”

“Wow. Kavo Dula, in love. I never thought I’d see the day. Since when are you even capable of emotions?”

Kavo hit him, managing a shaky laugh. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Esryn hugged him tightly. “It’s okay. You and I, lonely losers forever, right?”

“Right,” Kavo murmured. He tucked his face in the crook of Esryn’s neck and closed his eyes tightly. A nice long sleep was what he needed now. Esryn seemed to understand, and he only let Kavo snuggle with him as needed.

Empyrian Post 16

2010-11-26T19:40:00.002-05:00

Chapter 13: Introducing the Awesome Esryn

While Gwendolyn ran to get everyone into position and Torian stumbled to the deck to join Aizel in readying the cannons and Hawk already began to string his arrows, Kavo stood motionless. The world around him bustled about, but only one thought was on his mind: he was going to lose everything again.

More importantly, he was going to lose Hawk.

That thought was enough to spur him into action. He had to help, but he didn’t have any weapons on him anymore; after all, most organizations didn’t tend to arm their prisoners. But Kavo was going to do what had to be done, even if he had to fight with a kitchen knife.

“Aizel,” Kavo said, “I need one of your knives.”

“You know I can’t give you one,” Aizel said sympathetically. “My mum would kill me.”

“If you don’t let me help you guys, you’re going to die.”

Aizel’s eyes widened. Suddenly, a strong voice called, “Give him whatever he may need.” Aizel and Kavo looked up to the lookout post, where Hawk stood tall, gazing down upon them. “I trust him to fight for us. If I am wrong, Gwendolyn may punish me instead.”

Aizel still looked hesitant, and probably with good reason, but he unsheathed the knife against his hip and held the hilt out to Kavo. “I really shouldn’t do this, but if Hawk says it’s okay…”

“I know I’m not easy to trust,” Kavo conceded, “But you have to believe me. The government’s soldiers are very well-trained. We have to be careful.”

Aizel pressed his lips together and nodded in compliance. While he busied himself bodily shoving heavy lead balls into cannons with Torian’s help, Kavo sprinted to the stern. He could barely see a flag through the white fog, trumpeting the government’s arrival.

Kavo couldn’t wait to show them that they couldn’t quash this rebellion quite so easily.

The airship began to turn, approaching Kavo’s left. Above and behind him, Hawk called, “They are approaching starboard!”

Gwendolyn’s first reaction was to get away. Kavo wasn’t about to let up without a fight, and he was not going to let Gwendolyn do the same.

“No,” he shouted, “Pull up to them. If you don’t, they’re still going to follow.”

She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind, and perhaps he had, but he was determined to win this battle. For the vengeance of Helaku’s and Yoki’s deaths, he would ensure that they emerged victorious. Otherwise he would be a failure.

The Academy had taught him never to accept defeat or failure. If only they knew that that very philosophy was going to lead to their beloved country’s downfall. Kavo couldn’t let the corruption continue; anarchy would be better.

“Kavo.” Kavo turned at the sound of his name. He hadn’t expected to see Torian’s dark eyes gazing at his face. “Are you sure you want to do this? There is no turning back once you have taken this step.”

Kavo nodded. “I know. But this is my choice. They should have thought twice before killing innocent children.”

Laden with a cannonball, Torian brushed past him. “Glad to have you onboard, Kavo.”

Kavo only allowed for the smallest grin before he turned and readied himself. This would not be an easy feat, defeating a fully armed and fully equipped government airship. But the pirates had done it before, and without his help. Still, they had had a larger crew and an experienced captain. It would take all the focus and concentration they had to accomplish this.

As the airships sidled up to each other, the first cannonball went flying, deployed by the government. This allowed for no ambivalence when it came to what they wanted, easing some of Kavo’s nerves. At least he wouldn’t be killing anyone too innocent today.

The moment they were close enough, Kavo climbed over the bulwark and leapt onto the other ship, pulling himself over the ledge.

“Kavo. What a… nice surprise.”

Kavo growled, his eyes narrowed at a familiar face. “Esryn.”

“I must say, when I heard that the esteemed Captain Dula had been captured, I hadn’t imagined that he would still be alive.”

“Yes, well, I suppose every day is a new surprise.”

Esryn’s almond eyes tightened in his face. “It would seem so.”

Without warning, the clank of metal signalled the start of their match. Cold steel clashed between them as each fought to gain bearing. Neither was willing to risk an opening in his defence, and neither could find an opening. Until someone took that risk, they found themselves at a stalemate.

“You’re rusty,” Esryn remarked between the clattering of metal. “I remember a time when the great Kavo Dula never lost a single match.”

“The Academy was quite a different time,” Kavo managed. “You’ve gotten better, too.”
Esryn smirked. “Thanks.”

Smirking as well, Kavo swept Esryn’s leg out from under him. Esryn had time to pull him along, but Kavo was still in the dominant position, and it was obvious that Esryn wasn’t going to be making a comeback.

“Not good enough, though,” Kavo breathed.

Esryn chuckled. “I missed your spark.”

“I missed you too.” Kavo nuzzled Esryn’s long, dark blue hair. “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“It better be a really good story if you’re on their side now.”

“Trust me; it is. Can you call off your goons before they kill my friends now?”

Esryn smiled and said, “Long enough for story time, of course. Get off me.”

Kavo climbed off his long-lost friend as an arrow whizzed overhead. Wincing, he said, “Let me tell them to calm down, too.”

Once all was said and done, Esryn sat across from Kavo on a crate. The piercings on his pointed ears glinted in the dim light. Beneath his wispy blue bangs, more rings twinkled along his brow. Dark veins of a tattoo trailed up his long, muscular arms, disappearing beneath his open vest, which revealed his tanned skin, toned physique, and more piercings and tattoos.

“You got another piercing, I see,” Kavo remarked.

“Oh, you mean this?” Esryn flicked the barbell through his belly button. “This is Laed’s doing.”

Kavo grinned. “Has Laed got you settled down yet?”

“Not quite,” Esryn laughed. “I have to admit that I like fooling around a little too much.”

“I remember.”

“It’s a shame you never let me in your pants.”

“Esryn…”

“Right, sorry. Anyway, what’s up with all this? Why are you with the pirates? Of all people, you were the last I had ever expected…”

“If you’d seen it, Esryn…” Kavo took a deep breath. “We were visiting Lucia Island, and… gods, there were children there, but… one of the government ships bombed it.”
Esryn’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, bombed it?”

Kavo exhaled. “I’m glad you were in the dark about this, too. They’d been bombing villages on the Islands. One of the men I’ve been staying with had his village destroyed, too.”

“Well, we have to stop them. It’s only a matter of time before they move to Laetant. For all I know, maybe they think I need exterminated.”

“I know. That’s why I haven’t been trying to escape.” Kavo shook his head. “This is ridiculous. I never thought that I’d say this, but I think the pirates are right.”

“Are you positive?”

“One hundred percent. I saw it.”

Esryn bit his lip. “Then I have a favour to ask. Capture me.”

“What?”

“Take me with you. I joined the Academy to protect my family and my land; I came to Gaea because of the Alliance, and if that Alliance is being ignored, I have to do something. Teaka and Saylee still live in Laetant. A war could kill them.”

“Your kid. Right. I’d forgotten about her.” Kavo sighed. Esryn’s affairs had gotten Teaka pregnant almost three years ago; his daughter Saylee had been born six months later. “Are you sure you want to do that, though? That’s a big risk.”

“I know. But really, what all am I leaving? Teaka doesn’t even want me near Saylee, and Laed and I are far from exclusive. I don’t have a home; my parents died years ago. Kavo, this is my chance to make a difference. You can’t tell me no.”

Kavo’s eyes softened. “You know I could never tell you no.”

Esryn grinned widely. “So am I in?”

“You’ll have to convince the captain, of course, but I’m not going to stop you.”

“Thanks.” Esryn wrapped his arms around Kavo tightly, burying his face in Kavo’s neck. “You always were the only person to care.”

Kavo closed his eyes. He’d missed Esryn more than he’d even known. Embraces like this used to be the only thing getting him through the Academy, when they were young. Esryn had had a knack for getting him to open up in ways that no one else ever could.

When they’d been assigned to different sectors, Kavo had thought that the friendship between them would perish. Seeing Esryn had proved that to be a lie at best.

“I’m glad to have you back,” Esryn whispered.

“Yeah.”

Esryn nipped his ear lightly, pulling back. “Now, how about you introduce me to your friends.”

“Right.” Kavo headed back up to the weather deck; Esryn followed closely. “You’ll adore Aizel.”

“Hm, really?”

“He’s seventeen,” Kavo said over his shoulder, “And he looks even younger.”

“And here I was hoping for some companionship on the scary pirate ship.”

Kavo scoffed. “Your best bet would be Gwendolyn, and she’s thirty-five.”

Esryn made a face. “I’ve sworn off girls by now. I don’t want any more children.”

“Well, in that case, you’re out of luck.” Kavo smiled. “And yes, I’m still off-limits.”

“Sorry to hear it.” Kavo could feel Esryn’s eyes on him, quite specifically his ass. “I think your butt’s different.”

“What?” Kavo laughed.

“You lost weight or something.”

“You remember what my ass used to look like?”

Esryn raised a metal-laden eyebrow. “You had a nice ass. Can you blame me?”

“What do you mean, had?”

“I don’t think you’ve been eating enough, Kavo.”

“Well, I’ve spent half my time aboard the ship unconscious or incapacitated. You can’t blame me for not eating all the time.”

“Such a shame…”

Kavo rolled his eyes. “Do you want to meet the others or not?”

“I’m sorry. You know I love fucking with you,” Esryn said. Glimmers of humour danced in his violet eyes. Kavo had forgotten the way Esryn always had him wrapped around a finger.

The moment the sun glared at them, someone was at their side. “Kavo, what are you doing, bringing him onto our ship?” Gwendolyn hissed.

“It’s not like that. Esryn is different, I promise. He had no idea what was going on. We went to the Academy together. Hell, he’s from Laetant; he’s not exactly high on the government’s list of favourite people.”

“How the hell am I supposed to believe that? My son is on this ship.”

“Ma’am,” Esryn interrupted, “I know I’m not exactly the trustworthy type, but I know. I have a daughter. That’s why I’m here; if I don’t help you, the violence might get worse. I won’t let my daughter die.”

“And you expect me just to trust you like that?”

“No, not really. But whatever trial you want to put me through, go ahead.”
Gwendolyn crossed her arms. “Fine. You’re staying with Hawk and Kavo, then.” She looked over to Kavo. “I’m moving Aizel back to his old cabin with Torian.”

“That’s fine. Whatever you see fit.”

She stared at him for a long time. Eventually, she said, “Kavo, you had better not be wrong.”

“I’m not.”

“For your sake, I hope so.” That said, she turned and stalked off, the heels of her boots clicking against the wood.

“I take it that was Gwendolyn.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s definitely not my type,” Esryn laughed, clapping a hand on Kavo’s shoulder. “How ‘bout you? Anyone attract your interest yet?”

“Well…” Kavo paused. “There is one person. But uh, it’s not going to work out.”

“What? Why not? I mean, for a Gaean, it’s not like you’re unattractive or anything.”

“He’s holding on to his old life. He was an Islander chief, and I’m not his old wife, blah blah blah.”

“Wait, he?”

Kavo blushed. “Special circumstances.”

Esryn shook his head. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Empyrian Post 15

2010-11-26T13:17:00.003-05:00

The Horribly Written Chapter 12

“Put down the knife, Kavo,” Gwendolyn said. The doors swung behind her. “You’re being replaced in here.”

“I’m… being replaced? What the he—”

“We have two more people joining us, remember? We don’t need you cooking anymore.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“What do I care? Keep Hawk company or something.”

Jaleber and a couple who must have been the newly recruited pirates chose that moment to interrupt with their entrance. Upon seeing Gwendolyn and Hawk, they paused.

“I thought you would have him out by now.”

“He’s surprisingly dedicated to his job,” she explained.

“Well, we don’t need two cooks. Kavo, you’re going to have to find something else. Belle ain’t got any other skills,” Jaleber said. Kavo looked to the girl. She didn’t look old enough to have any other skills, either, or else he probably would have argued. She probably wasn’t much older than Aizel actually; Kavo guessed she’d be about nineteen.

The man next to her, the one who must have been her boyfriend, was possibly a little older, but not by much. If he was even Kavo’s age, it would have been a surprise.

Rafael swooped down from the ceiling, crying his primate war cry. Kavo hoped he’d maybe land on Jaleber’s face, but he simply dropped to Kavo’s shoulder and began playing with his hair, as he was wont to do. Clearly he wasn’t going to be of much help, either.

“What about him?” Kavo asked, nodding to the man.

“That’s Zeric. He’ll be working with Aizel.”

Kavo snorted. “So you’re telling me he has even less skills than his girlfriend, and I’m being replaced for them. Wonderful.” Kavo crossed his arms and headed for the door. He hoped they all slipped and fell on the floors that Zeric would be washing.

He wondered just what they expected him to do. Gwendolyn had suggest he keep Hawk companies, but she knew that he and Hawk had been enemies since the day he had woken back up; she knew that they’d been avoiding each other like dead rats. Was this another of her plans to get them back on companionable terms? It wasn’t working so far. Kavo didn’t in the least want to join Hawk anywhere, much less a hundred feet above the deck in cramped conditions.

He would rather settle for accompanying Jaleber everywhere, and the man detested him. Even Torian, who would only ever speak to Kavo while Aizel was near, would have been better company than Hawk. It sounded ridiculous, but it was true. Kavo didn’t know how he was going to look at Hawk without either hitting him or kissing him. Things were growing out of hand.

He didn’t want to kiss Hawk. He didn’t want to be with him romantically in the least. His wants and needs didn’t seem to matter to his hormones, which had determined for him that Hawk was the perfect person for lighting his fire. It didn’t even seem to matter that Kavo had never had an interest in any men at all; his body said that Hawk was the exception, the intriguingly beautiful exception, and he should just relax and let things take their course.

On the other hand, he didn’t particularly want to hit Hawk, either. But every time Hawk tried to hurt him, tried to push him away even farther, Kavo defaulted to a violent rage, and he had to hit something; that something simply always happened to be Hawk. And really, who could blame him? It wasn’t easy to be insulted and rejected at every turn. Kavo simply didn’t take it the way others may have in the past.

Despite not truly wanting either of the outcomes that had been probable as of late, Kavo still did nothing to change the results. He firmly believed that he wasn’t in the wrong in defending himself. If Hawk wanted to be an ass because of a misunderstanding that he had caused, he deserved a punch to the face and more. Kavo wasn’t about to apologize, let alone make a difference. That was stupid and weak.

And whatever anyone wanted to say, let it never be said that Kavo was weak. He fought for what he wanted and he fought against what he didn’t want. He knew that people would have problems with that, as any two people with opinions of any sort were likely to disagree at some point in time, but he still did it. Hawk’s displeasure was far from Kavo’s breaking point.

Kavo walked across the deck, Rafael still perched on his shoulder. Kavo could feel the monkey’s furry tail resting lightly on the nape of his neck, curled harmlessly. He hoped the Raf didn’t decide to actually wrap it around his neck for no good reason, seeing as he’d already tried to pull out half his hair.

“Oh, Kavo! Favour to ask,” Aizel said. “Do you think you can run this up to Hawk?” Kavo hardly glanced at the rock extended to him before Aizel tacked on a pleading, “Please.”

“Why can’t you do it? Or Torian, even?”

“Well… I’m… I’m sort of afraid of heights,” Aizel admitted, “And Torian’s busy with some repairs downstairs, so I really shouldn’t stall him. It would only take a minute. Besides, you’ve already been up there and everything.”

“Aizel, you really don’t want Hawk and I in the same room, let alone the same cramped basket.”

“Yeah, I know you two haven’t been getting along, but he dropped this and—”

“If he dropped it, it’s his own fault. I don’t care.”

“Well, technically, it’s my fault because he dropped it when I bumped into him and I feel really bad and you should take it to him.”

Kavo glared. “If I didn’t know better, I would say that this is a plan of your mother’s to get Hawk and I back on speaking terms.” Aizel smiled at him unsurely. It was hard to turn down a seventeen-year-old boy who looked like he was twelve, so Kavo took the gem. “This isn’t going to work, but I’ll do it.”

And he did. He had nothing else to do, anyway. A fight was at least entertainment, and if he was lucky, no one would be thrown off ledges today.

With those thoughts of comfort, as depressing as they may have been, Kavo started climbing. Rafael soon decided he didn’t trust Kavo’s climbing ability when his own was so incredibly superior, and he skittered off. All for the better, in Kavo’s opinion; he didn’t want any further annoyances or distractions.

Hawk looked irritated at best to see him. Kavo shared the sentiment.

“Trust me; I didn’t come up here of my own free will. Aizel said you had dropped this.” Kavo held out the stone he’d been handed. It was green and orange, the same colours of the one Hawk had been holding preceding their fight in the mess hall. Kavo wondered if it was the same one altogether.

“He would be correct.” Hawk took the stone, squeezing it lightly between his thumb and forefinger. “I suppose I should thank you for climbing up here in his place.”

“Why’s that?”

“He hates the lookout post. He says that when he is this far away from the ground, he would prefer not to be any farther.”

“I see,” Kavo said awkwardly, although he didn’t. Sure, at first there was some trepidation. However, they were already hurtling through the air at dangerously rapid speeds at a dangerously high altitude; another hundred feet wasn’t going to increase the risk of death much more.

Kavo didn’t see how a stupid stone was important enough for him to be required to climb all that way. It was just a stone. Hawk held onto it like it had magical properties of some sort, but Kavo didn’t see how. He had held it, and he didn’t feel any differently than he had earlier.

“Why’s that stone so important to you?”

“It is not a stone.” The way Hawk bristled was quite amusing to Kavo, who was taking great delight in his displeasure. “It is a gem. I understand the people of Gaea do not believe in the earth and its powers, but my people do. Unakite is meant to release pain and strengthen courage. I use it for meditation.”

Kavo snorted. “You would be the meditation type.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“In my experience, the best hypocrites are religious.”

“Now you are claiming that I am hypocritical.”

“You can’t say you aren’t. You blame me for causing fights when you’re the one constantly insulting me. It upsets you that I profile Islanders, but you’ve been profiling us Gaeans all along. You’re just as bad as the rest of us, but you just won’t admit it.”

“I never claimed to be better than you are, Kavo.”

“You didn’t have to. I can see it.” Superiority glimmered in Hawk’s eyes. Kavo turned, wanting to get away before he lost all self-control. “Anyway, I did what I was asked. Hope you didn’t miss your stupid stone too long.”

As Kavo swung his leg over the edge, Hawk said, “Do you remember when Ryk said that I was always cold?”

Kavo paused. “Yes,” he answered slowly.

“I take it you also heard his remark that I had not been quite so cold the previous night.” Kavo nodded. “I had not slept. I stayed awake to repent for the deaths of your crew. I had not wished to kill any innocent people.”

Kavo closed his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what you want to do. You still killed them.”

“I know. I am sorry, regardless, although apologies do nothing to ease the guilt.”

“Apologies won’t return them to their families, either.” Kavo slipped down the rope without looking back.

Aizel was at the bottom, smiling hopefully. When Kavo stared at him and looked far from happy, his smile slowly fell. “Did it work?” Every word was laced with hope for the better. Aizel’s concern, although touching, was in vain.

Kavo shook his head. “He was right. Things between us aren’t normal anymore.” Even Kavo was beginning to think that it was better if they stayed as far away from each other as possible.

“I’m sorry…”

“There’s nothing you can do about it. It’s fine. I’m a grown man; I can cope.”

“Yeah. I just wish tha— ahh!”

Kavo and Aizel were suddenly flung to the floor roughly as the airship jolted to a stop. Kavo shakily rose from his hands and knees, which he could feel bruising already, while Aizel sat up and rubbed at his head.

“What do you think that was about?” Aizel asked.

Before Kavo could hazard a guess, Gwendolyn was running toward them and looking quite panicked.

“Mum, what is it?” Aizel question as he stood, straightening his clothing.

“We’re being followed.”

Aizel’s clear eyes widened. “What?”

“There’s a government airship right behind that cloud,” she said, gesturing to the cloud at the back of the airship.

Kavo felt his world crumble. There was no way they could win against a government airship unless the soldiers were fresh out of the Academy. The pirates’ victory had been partly a fluke and partly due to Ryk’s skills. Kavo didn’t think they could win now.

They were all going to die.

Empyrian Post 14

2010-11-24T17:21:00.003-05:00

Notes: I think I was high. Really. I'm sorry. Blame the YWP Dare Machine. Also, I'm blaming all cheese grater remarks on the Dare Machine, as well.

The Preposterously Short Preposterous Chapter 11

It didn’t hurt that much, all considered. Normally having a monkey fall on one’s face was a bad thing, and while it wasn’t specifically good in this case, Kavo was just glad he still had a face.

While Kavo sat, alarmed, in his bed, the small monkey scampered over to a corner of the bedroom guiltily, whimpering pathetically. Confused, Kavo only stared at it. He’d just had a small primate fall on his face while he was sleeping; he felt he was rather obligated to feel confused and quite alarmed, and he did.

“What the hell are you…” he muttered to himself. He seemed to suddenly realize that he wasn’t alone in the room, even aside from the monkey, and his eyes darted about to make sure no one had overheard his seemingly insane babble. Hawk, the uncaring and unhelpful bastard that he was, didn’t stir at all; Aizel continued to slumber peacefully beside him. Clearly they needed to brush up on their awareness skills.

Slowly, the monkey lowered its tiny hands from its face. Kavo blinked at it. Should he wake someone? Should he run? Should he hit it with a large stick? Where would he find a large stick? Kavo wasn’t sure. He had never encountered much wildlife before, and there wasn’t a list of how to deal with monkeys in the Academy’s handbook of bad scenarios.

Hesitantly, the monkey shuffled toward Kavo. Upon deciding or realizing that he wasn’t much of a force to be reckoned with, the monkey all but screeched and leapt onto the bed. It hopped onto Kavo’s shoulder and tugged quite forcefully on a fistful of his hair.

This clamour caused Aizel to stir; he shifted and mumbled something about quieting the overzealous squirrels in the attic. Kavo raised an eyebrow at him. Overzealous squirrels, here? And in what attic? The monkey didn’t give him much time to dwell on those admittedly trivial questions; it yanked impatiently on his hair again.

“Okay, you little bugger,” Kavo growled. He reached up and clasped his hands around the thing’s torso. “You’re going to regret stowing away on this ship.” He tried to remove the monkey from his shoulder and head, but it only clenched its thin fingers around his hair and screeched loudly.

A book from who knows where soared through the air. It missed Kavo and collided with the wall, but the point was made clear: stop making so much noise.

As if knowing he had won the battle, the monkey grinned widely at him and tugged on his hair again, albeit lighter this time. Kavo glared darkly, as if to say, “You may have won this battle, but the war is far from over.”

Still grinning widely, the monkey let go and squirmed out of Kavo’s hands to plop on the mattress in front of him. It blinked innocently. Kavo’s glare didn’t falter. Its grin widened, contrary to what Kavo may have believed about physical impossibilities.

“You’re a cheeky little bastard, aren’t you?” Kavo asked it. It made a noise quite like the delighted squeal of a child. It inched closer, stepping along his calf, and grabbed onto his shirt. Much to Kavo’s chagrin, it seemed to have taken a liking to him.

“Kavo, would you shut up?” Hawk’s sleep-thick voice finally demanded, scaring Kavo half to death. Hawk was so quiet sometimes that Kavo not only forgot he was there, but he could sometimes hardly tell that he was.

Seeing as how Hawk had decided that he couldn’t care less about Kavo, however, Kavo was in a less than gracious mood, so he ignored Hawk’s demand. Besides, he had more pressing matters to deal with than Hawk’s ability to sleep at night; a monkey had just landed on his face. Hawk hadn’t even cared about all the shrieking and screeching that the creature had been doing, so Kavo decided that he didn’t need to care whether he inconvenienced Hawk. If Aizel was disturbed, that was only collateral damage.

“Looks like you’re sticking around, huh?” Kavo grumbled. He doubted that the monkey understood him in the least, but it seemed to agree quite enthusiastically nonetheless. “Well then, I guess you’ll need a name. ‘Stupid twat’ won’t work for long. I’ll call you Rafael.”
~*~*~*~
“You can’t keep a monkey on this ship!” Jaleber, old sourpuss he was, exclaimed. “That’s just preposterous!”

“What’s preposterous about it?” Kavo asked. Rafael seemed to share the sentiment; he huffed and blew a raspberry at Jaleber from his perch on Kavo’s shoulder.

“Well, it’s— it’s a monkey!”

Kavo shot a glare toward Hawk, who stood a few yards off. “Seems to me you already keep a gorilla onboard.”

“So this is about Hawk,” Jaleber said, chuckling. His sense of humour (or lack thereof) grated on Kavo’s nerves like a rusty, ancient cheese grater: annoying, painful, and at best likely to give one tetanus.

“I never said this was about Hawk,” Kavo protested. “It’s about the monkey. Stop changing the subject.”

“You’ve lost your mind.”

“It’s possible.”

Jaleber rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about that stupid monkey; just keep him confined, will ya?”

“Trust me; I want him about as much as you do,” Kavo mumbled. It just seemed that Kavo was stuck with Rafael; trying to get rid of him had only resulted in a missing clump of hair and a very sore bald patch on Kavo’s scalp.

Rafael squeaked and circled up Kavo’s neck to climb on top of his head, already beginning to sift through his hair.

“There aren’t any bugs in there,” Kavo muttered. He was already beginning to give up on scolding the monkey; Raf seemed quite content to ignore everything he did or said regardless.

“I didn’t peg you for the cuddly type,” Aizel remarked as he swooped by, his arms full with a bucket.

“I’m not. He’s not giving me a choice.”

Trailing behind Aizel, Torian laughed in passing. “I know the feeling.”

Kavo stared after the two of them for a moment before deciding he didn’t care what they’d been smoking all day. Resigning, he headed to the kitchens. It was almost lunch time, after all, and he was sure everyone was growing hungry.

Empyrian Post 13

2010-11-23T18:53:00.002-05:00

Notes: I'm aware it's getting a little rushed now. I'll fix it for the rewrite. Too write'd out to care...

Chapter 10: Denial Isn't Just a River in Egypt

Kavo faked a smile as he sat down with Aizel and Torian for dinner. Hawk was a few seats down, removed from everyone, staring blankly at his plate with tight lips. In his left hand, he held a mossy green and sienna stone, which he would occasionally clench his fingers around.

Aizel saw where Kavo’s eyes were trained, and asked, “Are you worried about him?”

“Of course I am. Doesn’t he worry you sometimes?”

Aizel bit his lip. “Not usually. We’ve only seen him like this once, when we first met him. Lately, he’s been better, but… I don’t know. I guess the attack on Lucia got to him. Makes sense, though; it’s a lot like what happened to him.”

“Does he, er… always resort to holding onto stones like lifelines?”

Aizel smiled lightly. “Yeah. The Islanders place a lot of power on gems. I swear, he has a different one for every occasion.” He tilted his head. “Tor, you’ve been awfully quiet. Something up?”

“No, I was just thinking about something.”

“Hm? What is it?”

“Well, you were saying that Hawk’s acting this way because of the fire, but… I don’t think so. He was fine until today.”

Aizel quirked his lips. “Yeah, I guess you have a point, but what else could it be?”

Torian shrugged. “I wasn’t saying I knew what it was. I was just pointing something out.”

“I don’t suppose you know, either, do you Kavo?”

Yes, Kavo did.

“No,” he lied. What if Hawk didn’t want that sort of secret exposed? For that matter, Kavo didn’t want it exposed much. He didn’t want to let tale of his rejection get out; he wanted to pretend that it had never happened and that he was happy.

“You aren’t looking so hot, darling,” a silky, feminine voice observed. Kavo glanced up to see Gwendolyn in all her womanly glory. Maybe she could take his mind off things for a while.

“I think I’m just recovering from everything still,” he tried. She didn’t look convinced. “Really, I’m fine.”

Gwendolyn shrugged it off. “Well, never mind, then. In other news, Jaleber has told me that we may be adding two more people to our crew. Some kid and his girlfriend had their house destroyed a while ago.”

“Really?” Aizel asked. “Where?”

“Actually, they’re from Gaea.” She cast her eyes over to Kavo. “I think they might be from the same area as you.”

“Would I know them?”

“It’s possible. The man went to the same academy as you did, I believe.”

“How do you know wh—”

“You kept the certification in your jacket. It wasn’t exactly hard information to come across.”

“Well, when will we be picking them up?” Torian asked.

“Probably tomorrow. It depends. Jaleber’s been communicating with them, so we’ll know more by morning.”

“So, Jaleber’s, like… the recruit officer?” Kavo asked.

“Something like that. Aside from Aizel and Hawk, he recruited all of us that you met.”

“How does he…?”

“Basically he just finds people the government screwed over, and he offers them a place to stay with us.”

“In exchange for assistance,” Kavo clarified.

“Of course. But normally, they’re already plenty willing to aid our cause by the time Jaleber’s found them.”

Kavo looked over to Hawk. “What about him?”

“He was a special case. We were about ten miles from his village when it went up in flames. Ryk made us stop to check it out. When we landed, it was almost too smoky to see. Still, Ryk insisted that we go see. Hawk was laying on the ground, covered in burns and blisters; half his clothing was burnt off. We carefully carried him back to the ship, did the best we could with him, and now here we all are.”

“So, his village really did burn?”

“To the ground.”

Kavo sighed. “I was afraid you would say that. I owe him another apology, I guess.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it much if I were you. Hawk holds few grudges. The only one he really holds is against the government for destroying his village. Understandably, of course.”

“Right. Still, I think… I have to say it.” Kavo slipped out of his seat as Gwendolyn, Aizel, and Torian exchanged similar questioning looks. He ignored their glances and made his way over to stand across from Hawk.

“Hey,” Kavo said awkwardly. His palms were already sweating from his nerves. Hawk had a knack for getting him out of his element.

Hawk slowly raised his eyes to look at Kavo. They were darker than Kavo remembered them being, shadowed by something dark and heavy that Kavo wasn’t sure he was privy to. When his eyes landed on Kavo’s face, Hawk gripped the stone in his hand tighter. Kavo was starting to worry that he would hurt something if he wasn’t careful with his grip.

“Erm, can I sit?”

Hawk gave a slow nod, not taking his eyes off Kavo’s face. His stare was unnerving enough to make Kavo shake. As he pulled out his chair, his hand trembled; the chair gave a loud, skittering scrape of protest. It seemed that all eyes were on him as he took his seat, and that didn’t help his nervousness at all. Even so, he felt like he owed this to Hawk.

“I wanted… I thought that maybe I should tell you I’m sorry. For everything,” he clarified. “I hadn’t meant to push you into anything. Earlier, in the bathroom, I just… I don’t know; I lost it. But whatever’s bothering you, please, don’t take it out on yourself. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Kavo, you do not have the slightest clue what I am taking out on myself. You do not understand that I do deserve it very much.”

“Then tell me. Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll help fix it. You don’t have to do this to yourself.”

“If I told you what was wrong, that would solve nothing. It would only bring you pain, as well.”

“Hawk…”

“Kavo, I wish I could let you help. If I do, things would only get worse.”

“What do you mean, I’d make things worse?”

“That is not what I said.” Hawk’s interruption went unnoticed.

“I’m such a screw-up that I can’t help anything now? I thought that I could help you, at least. I’m sorry that I’m so fucking useless.”

“Kavo, would you stop twisting my words?” Hawk demanded. “I did not once call you useless. I meant that sharing my problems will not diminish them; it would only abet their growth. I do not want you to be involved in that mess. My problems are my own, and there is no need to hurt you with them.”

“Right… I’m sorry, it’s just… I guess I’m paranoid. After… well, you know… after what happened in the bathroom, I just don’t think I can go back to normal.”

“Kavo, I do not think we can ever be normal again. It is probably better if you stay away from me.”

“I don’t want to stay away from you, Hawk. You can’t choose what’s better for me.”

“No, I cannot, but you cannot decide for me what you think is better for me. Our separation is my choice, and I am doing it for both of us. Please let me eat.”

Kavo’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like being told what to do, and he hated when anyone was condescending, and Hawk did condescending far too well. “So you’re saying that you know better?”

“In this circumstance, yes.”

Kavo’s fist met Hawk’s face. That was when Hawk showed the first violence he’d ever shown toward Kavo: he clenched his fingers in Kavo’s shirt and yanked him across the table, throwing him to the ground. Kavo growled and latched onto Hawk’s ankle above his boot and tugged his leg out from under him, forcing the other man to the ground as well. They closed on each other in tight death grips, rolling on the floor like animals. Neither of them could gain a hold over the other, but that didn’t stop them from trying, wrestling around on the ground.

“Stop!” a voice screamed. “Both of you, just stop!” Gwendolyn stood above the two of them, stomping a heel dangerously close to Kavo’s hand. His eyes trailed up her long leg, following the boot up to her thigh, skimming over her full skirt, the revolvers slung around her hips, her flat stomach, past her angrily heaving bust, and to her narrowed gaze. She looked far from pleased.

“I am sick,” she growled, “Of the two of you fighting. You’re acting like spoiled brats! Get up.” When they didn’t move, she screeched, “Get up!” Kavo scrambled off of Hawk, who tried to stand and dust himself off with as much dignity as possible. He wasn’t very successful, but the attempt was made nonetheless. “I want both of you in your room until you work this out.”

“Gwendo—”

“Now!”

Kavo winced and looked toward Hawk. He didn’t look likely to be of any help. He tried to cast a pitiful look over Gwendolyn’s shoulder toward her son and his companion, but they were both avoiding his gaze like meeting it would kill their firstborn.

He resigned himself to this dreadful fate and marched dutifully behind Hawk to their shared room. They would not leave the room without a few more bruises gracing each of their bodies.

Gwendolyn followed behind them, and the moment they were inside, she shut the door. Kavo could hear her bolting it from outside, thus locking them in together until someone wanted to let them out.

“Great going, asshole,” Kavo muttered. “You know, even I have better things to do than be stuck in here with you.”

“Well, you are the one who wanted to spend time together. You have been granted your wish.”

“You’re right. I did want to spend time together— before I realized how much I really wanted to bash your skull in.”

“Do it, then,” Hawk dared. “You have my permission.”

“You really don’t want to tempt me today.”

“Why not?”

Because I want to kiss you senseless, Kavo thought to himself. He was still trying to figure out these new feelings, but he knew that Hawk was a really good kisser and that it felt really good to kiss him; that was apparently all his body and his subconscious needed to know before they started driving him mad with yearning.

And, really, he couldn’t figure out why Hawk was so against it. After all, in the bathroom, Hawk had definitely been the one to make the first move. If he didn’t have feelings for Kavo, he shouldn’t have embraced him and kissed him so thoroughly. If he didn’t want to be with Kavo, he shouldn’t have taken such initiative.

Now that Kavo had experienced the things that Hawk did to him, things were different. And that was Hawk’s fault, no matter how anyone looked at it. Hawk had kissed him; Hawk had held onto him; Hawk had touched him like he meant something. He shouldn’t have, but he had. Kavo couldn’t be blamed for someone else’s actions.

“Hawk, if you don’t even want to be near me, why the hell did you kiss me?” Kavo asked eventually.

Hawk sighed and ran a hand through his long hair. Kavo remembered what that hair felt like; he wanted to stroke his fingers through it again, tangle his hands in it.

“I do not know what I was thinking. That was my fault; I can take the blame for that. However, you are taking it far too seriously. It was only one kiss.”

“Only one kiss? Hawk, you practically fucking mouth-raped me!”

“Yes, and I apologize. I was not myself.”

“So you’re saying it was just a mistake,” Kavo clarified.

“I am.”

“You are the dumbest, most ignorant, most idiotic person I’ve ever met! That kiss was no fucking mistake. You wanted to kiss me.”

“Did I?”

“Of course you did. No one just kisses like that for no reason!”

“Watch me.” Hawk took deliberate strides over to him, grabbed the back of Kavo’s neck, and kissed him firmly. Kavo felt his insides promptly melt and flood his heart with joy and bliss; Hawk kissing him was fantastic. In fact, it was so fantastic that Kavo forgot what he was supposed to be doing or why he was being kissed or what they were arguing over— he even forgot that they were arguing in the first place. Then, suddenly, much too soon for Kavo’s tastes, Hawk pulled away and smirked victoriously. “I told you I could do it.”

Kavo’s chest was about to burst or collapse; he couldn’t seem to even out his breathing no matter how he tried. “You can’t tell me that didn’t mean anything.”

“I believe I can, and I am. It was nothing to me.”

“You… you’re an ass,” Kavo breathed. “It’s no wonder that the government abandoned you. In fact, I don’t have the slightest idea how even pirates could ever accept someone like you.”

“Do you really feel that way?”

“Yes. I do,” Kavo said sternly.

“Then you can stay away from me happily.” Hawk brushed past Kavo to get to the door, probably to demand that someone let them out. According to Hawk, it seemed that everything had worked out. Hawk believed quite differently; nothing was fixed. Their relationship was still in ruins because of one bad decision involving a steamy kiss in the bathroom.

Kavo looked away, unsure of where to go or what to do now. He didn’t want to be anywhere near Hawk ever again. First he’d been rejected, and then he’d been humiliated. Hawk hadn’t turned out to be the man Kavo thought he was. It seemed Kavo was never right anymore when it came to who people were inside.

Sighing heavily, Kavo stalked off to the bathroom for some much-needed solitude. He had to figure out a way to get as far away from Hawk as he could. Perhaps he and Torian could switch rooms. Kavo doubted they’d allow it, though. After all, he was still technically a captive.

He didn’t feel like a captive. He felt like he’d made connections already; he felt like he was forging a family on the airship. Especially Aizel had already grown on him, despite all of Kavo’s loathing previously.

Still, he was a captive, and he didn’t expect that a little bonding would earn him a room unsupervised. Torian didn’t seem in a hurry to trust him while Aizel wasn’t around, so staying with Torian was out of the question. If Kavo spilled the beans to Aizel, the whole ship would know, and Hawk would know exactly how much his apathy had affected Kavo, which was far from desirable. That didn’t leave many options; Jaleber still hated him, and Gwendolyn and Hawk were close companions. It seemed that Kavo would simply have to put up with the circumstances, regardless of how much he hated the thought of it.

Empyrian Post 12

2010-11-22T19:17:00.002-05:00

Chapter You-Don't-Care-About-This-Number: Let's face It; You Expected This from Me

“Mum, I have something to tell you,” Aizel said. He swallowed around the enormous lump in his throat; he could hardly breathe around it. He cast an unsure glance to Torian, who only smiled reassuringly. After a small moment, Aizel returned the smile with what Kavo could only declare undeniable love. He didn’t know how someone so young had found a love so pure and simply, but he was happy that Aizel had, and he was happy that Torian was a part of it. They were a sweet couple, from the little that Kavo had seen, while that admittedly wasn’t much.

“What is it?”

“I, um… Torian and I… well, I… erm, I’ve chosen my life partner?”

“Your… life partner?”

“Yes,” Aizel said. “I’m with Torian. I want to marry him.”

Gwendolyn pressed a hand to her chest and gasped. “Oh my… I hadn’t even noticed…” She nearly collapsed, but she somehow stayed upright. “Are you sure?”

“Undoubtedly. I would love to spend the rest of my life with him.”

“And you, Torian?” she asked, almost as if she was trying to find some sort of objection. None came; Hawk and Kavo thought they suited each other, and they obviously weren’t going to condemn their own relationship after the work and effort and emotions which they had put into it. “Well, I suppose I haven’t much choice…”

“Mum, I wasn’t trying to give you a choice,” Aizel explained. “I thought that, as my mother, you deserved to know. When I am in love, you should know. I tell you well enough when I hate someone, too.”

“Still, Aizel… Torian… he’s eight years your elder.”

“Seven and a half,” Torian said.

“That’s not helpful,” Aizel replied.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“In any case,” Gwendolyn interrupted, before they could start the kissing she could feel nearing, “Even if I do not find it agreeable, I am in no position to deny you.”

“So you approve?”

“I wouldn’t say I approve, but of course, Aizel, you can do as you please. I would not stop you. Just tell me this: Torian, do you love my child? Will you promise to take care of him?”

“Of course,” Torian said. “I plan to spoil him every chance I get.”

“That is all I can ask.” She smiled almost sadly and moved past them to go to her room. It must have been hard for her, Kavo realized, being the only single person on the ship. Now that the other four of them had paired off—and there was even a pair of pairs, really—she must have felt lonely and left out. But there was no way Kavo was going to share, and he was quite aware of Hawk’s capacity for jealousy. If she was out looking for love again, she wouldn’t find it on the ship any time soon.

Aizel hugged Torian tightly, pressing almost every inch of his still-small frame against Torian. “I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you, too.” He brushed Aizel’s light hair away from his face gently, his fingers lingering to graze the skin reverently. “I’m glad your mom didn’t try to kill me.”

Aizel laughed. “Me too. I’m not much for necrophilia.”

“Hm, not much? Does that mean you are somewhat?”

Laughing again, Aizel hit him lightly. “You know what I meant!”

“I know,” Torian said, “But you’re adorable when I tease you.” He leaned in for a warm, sweet kiss, and Kavo turned away; he didn’t want to intrude anymore, and he already had before. He had seen quite enough of the two of them kissing. Thinking about anything else would have been fine.

As he thought that, a flock of birds swooped past them. They were nothing close to falcons or hawks, but of course, Kavo still turned to Hawk. Even if it weren’t something so obvious, though, Kavo couldn’t have guaranteed it wouldn’t have made him think of his lover; it seemed that everything nowadays reminded him of Hawk. Even things like floor wax and spatulas would eventually lead back to the one person who was subsequently always on his mind; times he didn’t think of Hawk were rare, but not prized. Kavo loved thinking of Hawk almost as much as he loved being with him; it was certainly the next best things, and sometimes it was all he had to look forward to.

“Kavo, now that that is sorted out, would you like to return to our room?”

“Actually… I had something I wanted to show you. C’mere.”

Hawk tilted his head. “What is it?”

“You’ll see. Follow me.” He took Hawk’s large, warm hand, smiling; he felt like a little child holding on to his father’s hand, except he was much more intimate with Hawk than he would ever consider being with any of his family members, of course.

“Kavo, you know I do not appreciate your surprises. It is not anything horrible, is it?” Despite his complaints, Hawk did not once look ready to stop following him. It was rather funny, actually.

“It’s nothing bad. I think you’ll like it. It’s quite nice.”

Kavo turned a corner and went through a small tunnel to come out in a maze. After navigating through it quickly, Hawk’s hand still clasped in his, Kavo reached his destination.

They were encased in a hemispherical, transparent cover. Light reflected and refracted off of it, shining glimmering rainbows of light everywhere. The clamour— the clangs and clicks and clunks and chinks— of the ship went unnoticed in that room; they were all but inaudible. Instead, the music of the wind filled the air. Kavo loved that; it was his second-favourite song, second only to when Hawk called his name.

“Kavo, this is…”

“It’s the observation deck. They used to use it for astronomers, before they had programmed all the GPS systems. My ship hadn’t had one, so it took me a while to find this one.”

“It is beautiful up here.”

“You should see it when the stars are out.”

Hawk looked at him, and Kavo melted under the serenity, the childlike excitement buried in his amber eyes. “Can we?”

“Tonight?” Kavo grinned. “We really shouldn’t. Not with what we do at night… but I could never tell you no.”

“Then it is settled. Meet me out here tonight.”

Hawk kissed him and quickly jogged off to do whatever it was that Hawk did while he was gone. Kavo stared after him, infatuated, for a moment before he noticed.

“Hey, that was my line!” he called.

Hawk gave a cheeky smile. “I know,” he said before disappearing through the tunnel. Kavo smiled and sat down, draping an arm across his knee as he stared at the expanse of sky and glimmering rainbows.

Kavo didn’t move until Hawk returned, looking as gorgeous as ever and more. The sun was setting now, and the colours of the rainbows turned warm. Gold like liquid seemed to drench every inch of the observatory, and most particularly Hawk; it ignited something even more stunning in his amber eyes and set his skin ablaze. Kavo was finding it hard to catch his breath at the sight.

“Hey,” Kavo said nervously. He’d been trying to calm himself, to no avail; the moment he saw the beauty that was Hawk, the butterflies residing in his stomach began to stir.

Hawk smiled softly at him. That only made the awful creatures more enthusiastic.

“I am glad you found this place. It is very beautiful up here.”

“Yeah. Me too,” was all Kavo could manage. His heart had swollen and risen into his throat, feeling quite like an uncomfortable hot air balloon, preventing anything except an excruciatingly shaky voice from exiting.

Hawk clearly noticed that Kavo was acting a bit abnormally, but he didn’t seem inclined to comment just yet. Kavo knew, though, that if he acted a touch too strange for a smidge too long, Hawk would question him ceaselessly; hopefully it would not come to that, because Kavo rather wanted to propose properly and not be pressured into it, especially if he could keep Hawk none the wiser.

“So,” Kavo asked, “What did you want to stay out here for?”

“For one, it is very nice here. Other than that, however, there is actually something I have to ask of you. Honestly, I have been wanting to ask you, but I could never find the right time or place. However, I may not ever get the chance after tonight, so I am afraid that it is impossible to delay any longer. Before I begin, I have to ask that you please do not interrupt me before I have finished.

“Alright,” Kavo agreed, “What is it?” His eyes shone with concern. Hawk was worried about something, and Kavo wanted to wipe all his fears away as he always did.

“I know that we have not been together romantically long enough for either of us to have truly forged an opinion on what a life together might be like, but I think I have made up my mind nonetheless. I do not know if you feel the same way as I do, but I must still ask.”

Kavo’s heart thumped alarmingly in his chest. He could hardly think of what Hawk was going to say; surely they were about to break up. “Wait,” he said, “Hear me—”

“I told you not to interrupt. Let me finish. Kavo, I… I want to spend our lives together. I want to get married.”

Kavo blinked. Then he blinked some more. Then, suddenly, he burst into laughter. “Really?”

Hawk, understandably, looked rather insulted. “I apologize. I had not meant it as a joke.”

“No— I know that— it’s just… I had planned to ask you the same thing.” Kavo extracted the ring from his pocket. “I was going to propose to you tonight and ask you to spend whatever may be left of our lives together. Do you think you can grant my wish?”

A smile slowly spread across Hawk’s face as he took Kavo into his arms. “Only if you will grant mine, my tackila.”

Kavo smiled. “I’m yours.”

Hawk pressed their lips together firmly, leaving no room for doubt in Kavo’s mind that he was wanted and perhaps even needed. Kavo kissed back just as fervently, his hands moving to unlace Hawk’s shirt. He would consummate this new stage in their relationship before tomorrow night, just in case. It never hurt to be too cautious.

And it certainly never hurt to spend more time lavishing attention on Hawk.

“Kavo,” Hawk gasped, as if the name itself had brought him back from the very depths of hell. “It is very hard to believe that you… tell me, why would you do this for me? You could have returned to your life even still, yet you have now sworn yourself to me.”

Kavo pressed his forehead against Hawk’s, smiling broadly. “I couldn’t have. I’ve fought against the government now, betrayed them. There is no life left for me. And even if there was… I can’t leave you, you idiot. I need you. Life without you wouldn’t make any sense anymore.”

Hawk closed his shining eyes and smiled the first genuine smile Kavo had ever seen from him as tears spilled onto his elegant cheekbones. Kavo’s breath caught at the beauty of the experience; Hawk had never looked more angelic or more perfectly calm than in that one emotional moment.

“Thank you,” Hawk whispered. Each word to Kavo sounded like a glimmering hope of a sunbeam after a cold, dark and starless night; each syllable was a breath of fresh air after emerging from a six-foot-deep coffin. “I never had thought that I would… that we would… To think that I would find peace…”

Kavo’s eyes drifted closed, and he reverently brushed his lips against Hawk’s to show his understanding and agreement; he himself had never in a thousand years pictured that he could be truly happy with someone whom he could call a soul mate— and a man, no less. It had been entirely unpredictable from the beginning, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Hawk was the only person in the world who could make him swoon with a glance.

“I do want you to know that… I love you, Kavo.” Hawk’s attentive gaze touched his entire face and bore into his soul. “I only wanted revenge. Too distraught with my past, I never looked at what was really important. I owe my future to you.”

Kavo tangled a hand in Hawk’s long black hair, shaking it loose from the confines of the leather tie holding it in place. “I feel the same, you know,” Kavo replied honestly. “If it weren’t for you, I’d still be the same asshole running around, thinking he was infallible. But now I know that it’s okay not to be, and I just… you probably know the type of pressure that takes off of me. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of having you beside me.”

“My tackila…” Hawk rubbed his thumb along Kavo’s jaw while his eyes wandered over Kavo’s genuine face. “Can you accept who I am?” He seemed truly worried that Kavo would choose now to turn back, but Kavo erased his fears with a hasty kiss.

“I could never reject you. You are my one and only.” Smiling, Kavo said, “Are we through with the chick flick moments?”

Hawk chuckled, a low, deep rumble that made Kavo’s hair stand on end with energy and electricity. “I suppose we can be. What would you instead propose?”

“A few select things come to mind.” Kavo traced his fingers over Hawk’s sternum, a mischievous smile playing across his face. “After all,” he reasoned, “We technically haven’t spent our first night together.”

“You do have a point.”

“I vote,” Kavo murmured against Hawk’s unresisting lips, “That you put this monstrous body of yours to good use.”

Hawk’s firm hands ran up Kavo’s legs to rest lightly on his hips. “I imagined you might. What would you have me do?” A glint in Hawk’s eyes told that he knew exactly what Kavo wanted, every little bit of it, but he was being a tease.

“Don’t you play coy.” Kavo licked the corner of Hawk’s mouth, taking enormous delight in the shudder that racked the man’s large frame. “I mean, I could go on for hours about how much I want you buried deep inside me, but I figure that you’ve heard it enough.”

“As if I could grow tired of hearing you tell me.” Hawk held Kavo against him as he leaned in for a deep, intimate kiss. Their tongues danced, the tastes of each other’s mouths mingling. To Kavo, it was the second-best taste in the world, bested only by the unique and exotic taste of Hawk’s skin. It was as if his genes flavoured his skin, every inch drenched in the warmth and spice of the Islands. Simply thinking about it made him crave it, made him yearn for even the smallest taste. No one else had ever been so desirous to Kavo; no one except Hawk could make every sense alight.

“You are,” Kavo breathed between increasingly ardent caresses, “The most beautiful fucking man on the planet.”

“Not true,” Hawk returned, “Although I must say you cannot be too far off, because I currently have him in my arms.”

Their lips met again as clothing began to be removed, being shucked by their desperate, wanton hands. Kavo kept trying to work Hawk’s pants off him even as he shimmied out of his own; their shirts were already long forsaken in the corner. Soon their pants and undergarments joined them, tossed to be forgotten as well.

Immediately, Hawk’s hands were working on Kavo. One stroked across his flushed chest and a pert nipple while the other traced sinful patterns along even more sinful regions of his body. Kavo knew better than to return the favour; that would only end in a battle for dominance which would, in turn, end in his complete and utter surrender of all power; he knew this. He also knew that he would get his turn to explore Hawk’s body so long as he behaved while Hawk explored his, charted the unknown. But it was so hard to behave with a strong hand hovering just over his erection and being a very frustrating tease.

Kavo hadn’t pegged Hawk to be the teasing type; he had imagined that if they did finally have sex, it would be powerful and meaningful, but straight and to the point. It was quite the opposite— of to the point, because it was powerful, and it was meaningful, but Hawk loved to tease and torture and spend every possible second driving Kavo absolutely mad. He was certainly damn good at it, too.

“Gods, do you know how to do this quickly?” Kavo asked breathlessly; Hawk’s actions already had him ready to break.

“Of course not,” was Hawk’s reply. “Love is not quick. Why should I be when I make it? Love is maddening and all-consuming; I endeavour to make it the same way.”

“You’re damn good at it,” Kavo muttered. He didn’t have a chance to say anything else, though, because Hawk’s hand gripped his erection firmly and all thoughts were lost to his wanton cries. His body was already begging for release, convulsing and all but thrashing beneath Hawk. The worst part was that Hawk had hardly laid a hand on him and he was ready to give up on holding back.

“I am glad you think so.” Hawk chuckled again, sending the same electricity through Kavo as he had earlier, only it was magnified by his steadily growing arousal.

“Would you shut up and take me, you bastard?” Kavo gasped, arching into the devilish hand wrapped around him.

Hawk’s smile didn’t fade as he moved to settle between Kavo’s legs. There were no more words uttered, but their stares spoke volumes of feelings that couldn’t yet be put into words; language had no place there in that moment. Only their hearts belonged, and only to each other. Nothing else was a necessity so long as they had each other, and neither of them cared for that to change.

“Are you ready, my tackila?”

Kavo rolled his eyes but smiled. “If you’re not entering me in the next five seconds, know that I will leave you for my hand.”

Kavo could feel Hawk’s smirk as he captured his lips. “Understood,” was mumbled into his mouth, and then Kavo felt him obey.

His entire being began to tear and reform as Hawk pushed inside of him. Hawk grabbed Kavo’s hips, adjusting them and angling them up to the point that Kavo had absolutely no leverage to do anything except take it. He didn’t mind.

“My beautiful tackila,” Hawk murmured, “You will know nothing but pleasure tonight.”

“You’ve never shown me anything else, Chayton.”

“I would hope I had not.” He pulled Kavo’s hips closer to him, burying the last inch inside. “Are you settled?”

“Really, Chayton…”

“I know. I am sorry.” He kissed Kavo’s forehead. “Just do not let me harm you.” With those last words, he moved.

Kavo’s heart nearly exploded because of the overtime it went into. He wanted to either rut against Hawk or shy away from the pain, but he couldn’t; he no longer had control of his hips, as they were being held and supported by Hawk’s hands, and he didn’t have the sense to verbalize either of his desires. Instead, he lay there, panting and writhing, as Hawk slowly drew in and out of him.

Kavo threw his head back as beads of sweat coalesced on his skin. A fire was erupting and spreading inside him, devouring his core. Only he and Hawk were left, only the two of them alone in the world, and everything was perfect. Everything in life was complete.

Hawk nibbled lightly on Kavo’s Adam’s apple, sending a violent shiver through him. Kavo didn’t have to look to know that Hawk was smirking down at him as his tongue darted out to lap at Kavo’s glistening collarbone.

“You are beautiful. Do you know that? You are so perfectly beautiful.”

“Chayton,” Kavo whispered, “I love you. I love you so much.”

Kavo’s arms felt like heavy, wet noodles as he raised them to encircle Hawk’s neck. He bent to pull his body up and kiss Hawk deeply, his tongue seeking out the uniquely addicting taste of Hawk’s delicious mouth. Hawk showed his appreciation of this action with a low groan, his lips and chest vibrating against Kavo with the deep noise; it made Kavo tremble and struggle to press closer, but Hawk held firm.

“Do not tempt me to tease you more,” Hawk warned. “If you are not careful, you may never find your release tonight.”

Kavo nipped Hawk’s lip lightly. “I had better. I could always just return the favour.”

“Who says I would not want that?”

Kavo pushed on Hawk’s shoulders. “You’re the one who took the initiative.”

Hawk nuzzled Kavo’s neck. “Should I move?”

“Do you want to?”

Hawk gave a mischievous grin. Carefully, he held onto Kavo and turned until Kavo was straddling him, his back resting against the mattress.

“Have your turn, then,” Hawk said.

Kavo braced himself against Hawk’s very warm, muscular chest, panting for a moment. Every single part of his body was throbbing with arousal and desire, and he wanted to make love to Hawk in a thousand ways. He situated, stared deep into Hawk’s intense eyes, and moved.

They didn’t break eye contact once as Kavo moved, up and down on Hawk’s hips. Kavo had never been more turned on in his life by any one human being, but with Hawk’s glowing gaze trained on him, he felt devilishly flushed, and a blush spread throughout his whole body. Hawk was doing a good enough job of pleasuring him just by lying there and simply being erect. But then, his eyes flicked down— Kavo felt a special part of his anatomy twitch— and then back up… then he reached out and wrapped his hand around Kavo’s erection.

Kavo nearly exploded on the spot. Hawk was unrelenting, though, with his large hand pumping in time to Kavo’s increasingly uncoordinated motions.

Kavo was the one to finally break eye contact when he threw his head back in complete, unbridled pleasure. His whole body was alight with fire and sparks of electricity and arousal that he’d never known before Hawk. There were quite a few things, it seemed, that he’d never known before Hawk entered his life, and each of them was more amazing than the last. It amazed him to be shown true, unconditional love, to have those same feelings, to find someone who wanted to give him the world, and to not even want the world… Hawk was the world when Kavo held him in his arms.

Kavo felt Hawk lean in, and his warm tongue caressed Kavo’s chest as if it were the most delicious delicacy in the world. Given how much Kavo loved the taste of Hawk’s bare skin, it wasn’t entirely inconceivable that Hawk might think the same of his.

“Chayton, I’m about to…”

“I know. Me too.” Hawk’s husky voice sent yet more electricity coursing through Kavo. He was pretty sure he was going to be electrocuted soon.

One more squeeze of Hawk’s hand was all it took for Kavo’s world to shatter in a flash of white. His whole body went numb as neurons exploded in sparks and fire. Distantly, he could feel Hawk reacting in the same way, but he hardly took notice beyond feeling it somehow beneath his numbness.

The world began to reform slowly. Panting, Kavo lifted off of Hawk and collapsed on his back next to him.

“Wow. That was…” he started breathlessly, chest heaving. He couldn’t find a worthy adjective to describe it, though, and ended up only repeating, “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Hawk agreed, sounding like he was in the same state as Kavo. It was one of the very limited times Kavo had heard his diction imperfect, and it was beautiful.

It was another long while before either of them moved, their weary and oversensitive bodies not motivated enough to even consider shifting. Hawk was the first to find the energy, and he gingerly rolled onto his side and draped an arm across Kavo’s firm abdomen. Kavo lifted his own heavy arm and encircled Hawk’s neck, pulling him down until his head rested on Kavo’s shoulder. Hawk nuzzled Kavo’s neck in response and gently kissed his collarbone.

“Thank you for not giving up on me.”

Kavo smiled and raked his hand through Hawk’s tangled mass of black hair. “You’re welcome.” His hand trailed down, travelling along the dip where Hawk’s spine was. Hawk closed his eyes as a peaceful, sleepy silence settled over them.

Kavo could sense it the instant Hawk fell asleep; even though there was no tension to be drained from his being, there was something different, something innocent and easy about the way he held onto his lover. It made Kavo smile gently and nuzzle into the crook of his neck, truly comfortable for one of the few times in his life.

Tomorrow, they would fight. Tonight, they simply let the world fade away, content to steal the last vestiges of calm before the storm.

Empyrian Post 11

2010-11-22T17:00:00.002-05:00

This is a slightly shorter chapter, buuuut I wanted to end it there. So. Whatever. Lulz. Four chapters in three days, I'm allowed to do a short-ish one. XD

Chapter 9: That First Stolen Moment

Something cool and wet caressed Kavo’s face. The cloth was rough but the hand behind it was gentle. Hadn’t they been in this position before?

“Hawk,” Kavo croaked, “What happened?”

“I think you had a mental breakdown. You have hardly woken for a week.”

“Really?” Kavo asked, hesitant. “I don’t understand…”

“It is fine. Do not worry. Are you feeling better now?”

“I… I don’t know. I think so. I can’t really remember how I felt.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“Not really. I remember… we had landed on Lucia. And then after that, it’s all a blur.”

Hawk looked disappointed, but Kavo wasn’t sure why. “I see. In any case, now that you are awake, I assume you would like a shower.”

“That would be nice,” Kavo agreed. Hawk moved to help him out of bed, but Kavo waved him off and insisted that he could do it on his own.

He stumbled a little when he stood, his knees buckling beneath him. Hawk’s arm was already back around his waist to support him, whether he liked it or not. He had to admit, though, that he didn’t mind it much. Hawk was warm and firm and reassuring at his side, so who was he to push that away? Besides, he really was quite unsteady. If he really hadn’t been up for a week, it was no wonder that he was having trouble walking.

Kavo hadn’t really noticed the door in the back of their room before. He hadn’t expected a bathroom to be attached to such a small room, either; normally the older airships had communal showers, didn’t they? He shrugged it off. He wasn’t going to turn down some privacy.

The shower was small, crammed into the corner of the equally small bathroom. Still, it was a shower; it would suffice. Kavo managed to find a way to move his legs properly beneath him, and he stood awkwardly while Hawk fetched him a towel.

“I will bring you a change of clothes in a while. You can go ahead and shower.”

“Okay. Uh, thanks.”

“Do not worry about it. You deserve it.” Hawk slipped out the door, which he shut behind him.

Kavo stared after him for a moment before shrugging. He wasn’t sure what Hawk was talking about, but he didn’t see how it affected him aversely in any way. If Hawk was feeling gracious, that was a welcome blessing, and he saw no reason to complain.

He stripped slowly, stretching every muscle as he doffed his clothes. The joints in his shoulders and the vertebrae along his back cracked, a small comfort after such a long time of little movement. He shucked his pants, leaving them in a pile with his shirts.

Kavo stepped into the tiny shower and switched on the water, turning it nearly entirely to hot. Icy water poured over him and he shivered involuntarily with a hiss. Goosebumps quickly popped up on his arms, but he suffered through it until the water eventually warmed to tepid. He hadn’t expected it to get much warmer, anyhow, so he tried to ignore that it was twenty degrees too cold.

Kavo massaged his shoulder. It was hard to work out the knots that had formed while he was out. He wondered why he’d been out so long in the first place. There had to have been a reason for his apparent “mental breakdown,” as Hawk had termed it.

Vestiges of a memory lingered just beyond his mental grasp. He’d forgotten something, something important… what the hell was it? Kavo frowned to himself. He’d never been more frustrated than when he couldn’t remember something that was just barely out of reach.

Kavo tried to forget about it. Nothing good was coming from dwelling on it, so he tried to concentrate on his shower. Still, it kept gnawing at him. Hawk had looked disappointed for a reason, hadn’t he? Hawk wasn’t the type to feel emotions without cause; even Kavo could tell that. So what was the issue? What was it that Kavo couldn’t quite recall?

Again, Kavo told himself that he could figure it out later. Instead, he soaped up and washed down quickly to get out of the shower as soon as he could; the lukewarm water wasn’t exactly the closest thing to comfort. Once satisfied that he was clean, Kavo turned the stream of water off and stepped out of the shower.

He towelled off slowly. His muscles were stiff, so he tried to move carefully, but he wasn’t enjoying being naked with the chance of Hawk walking in on him at any given time.

Kavo fixed the towel about his hips and moved to the small mirror that hung over the sink to inspect himself. His damp brown hair, that was familiar; his brown eyes were familiar to him. His lightly tanned skin, the curves of his shoulders and waist, everything was all familiar.

And yet it was all new. His muscles were different. Had he lost definition? He was sure his skin was paler now, as well. What had happened to him? When he’d been captain, he had never looked so pathetic. He’d looked strong. Now he looked like a gust of wind could knock him over.

He lowered his eyes in shame. The pirates had gotten to him. He’d been broken. He couldn’t remember how or why it had happened, but he’d been broken.

A knock resounded suddenly enough to make Kavo nearly jump out of his skin.

“Wh-what is it?”

“I have brought you some clothing. I figured you may want it.”

“Oh. Right,” Kavo breathed. “The door’s unlocked.”

Hawk swung the door open. For his part, he only looked mildly surprised that Kavo was standing in the open, nude but for a towel.

“Thanks,” Kavo said, taking the small stack of clothes from Hawk.

“You are welcome.” He paused, looking at Kavo, before asking, “I did not know you still had those beads.”

Kavo turned to look in the mirror. “What be—” Realization crashed down on him as he remembered. His eyes forced themselves closed while his senses were flooded with remnants from his memories: the heat of the fire, the smell of burning trees and the glaring light. He’d screamed for help— he’d screamed to help someone else. Helaku and Yoki… those were the names he’d cried out. But he hadn’t been able to help; he’d been one hundred percent useless.

When Kavo opened his eyes, a single glistening tear was rolling down his cheek. He hardly recognized the piteous expression on his face. “That… did all that really happen?” he asked quietly, not looking toward Hawk.

“Yes. The fire was real.”

“And… Helaku and Yoki…?”

“I am sorry. I know you would have tried to save them, but I had to stop you.”

“Hawk,” Kavo sobbed as his turbulent emotions overwhelmed him. He turned a watery gaze matched with a blotchy face to Hawk. “Why?”

It was obvious that the sight made Hawk’s soul quiver. He wiped his hands on his pants and took shaky, hesitant breaths. “I did not want you to die. I did not want to lose you…”

“Hawk, they were just kids,” Kavo cried. “We could have helped them. They… they meant something, and I don’t. I deserved to die, and I should have, but they were… they were children, Hawk…”

“Kavo, that is not true. You do mean something.”

“To who?” Kavo demanded. “Who in this world cares whether I live or die?”

“I do.”

Hawk’s eyes bored into Kavo’s soul like they always did, exposing every inch of every secret he’d ever had. But unlike previous times, this time Kavo felt other feelings stirring in him, feelings like the ones he’d felt seeing Hawk on Lucia Island. Safety and reassurance lay in those golden eyes. All he’d ever missed was there in Hawk’s eyes.

Kavo slowly moved toward him; without taking his eyes off Kavo’s for a second, Hawk moved to meet him. Hawk’s large, warm hands rested on Kavo’s bare waist; a fire spread through Kavo at the simple contact.

“Hawk, I—” Hawk cut him off with a firm kiss. Kavo didn’t resist for a moment. Their lips worked against each other desperately, fighting to move closer and to steal more of each other. Kavo pressed close until his chest was flush against the rough shirt Hawk wore; he could feel the laces of it against his chest, could feel Hawk’s strands of beads digging into his skin. Not even that discomfort could make him consider pulling away.

“Hawk!” a young voice called. “Are you in here? Gwendolyn’s looking for you!”
That, however, could. Kavo tore his mouth away to gape at Hawk. The two stared blankly for a moment before Hawk spilled into apologies.

“I am sorry. We should not be doing this.”

“Why not? If we both want it—”

“Kavo, I do not. I loved my wife; I could never love you. I am sorry.” He spun and fled without pause. Kavo barely had time to reach out helplessly before the door slammed.

He stood there for a moment, thoughtless and motionless. As he heard Aizel outside chattering amiably, his stability began to crack. Slowly, he collapsed to the floor.

Wallowing in self-pity, he lost all track of time. Time meant nothing while the intense ache of yet another failure spread through him. He had believed in that one moment that Hawk was capable of caring for him; he had believed that he was capable of deserving someone’s feelings.

That had crashed quickly. Sitting in nothing but a towel, collapsed on the bathroom’s cold tile floor, Kavo had never felt so all alone.

Empyrian Post 10

2010-11-22T13:26:00.002-05:00

Notes: Yes, I used the actual meaning of flame agate stones for the meaning here. Also, the language I'm using for the Islanders is the Native American Lakhota language. First, Native American languages usually don't have specific written languages; spelling may be off if you're used to seeing it. Also, I don't speak Lakhota, so I could be entirely wrong. Either way, it's my work of fiction, so I don't care. XD

Chapter 8: The Blaze

“Kavo. Get up.”

Kavo grunted, swiping idly at the hand that nudged his face. He wasn’t ready to get up yet. Sleep had come swiftly and heavily like an unwanted house guest, and not dissimilarly, it didn’t want to leave. However, Kavo didn’t want it to leave, either; he was content to sleep away all his troubles for a while, and the basket continued to rock soothingly to lull him into the arms of an enchanting slumber.

“Kavo, do not make me throw you over the edge.”

Kavo managed to convince himself to wake at that urging; he had no wish to relive what could have been a horrible fall. He lifted his heavy eyelids and lifted his heavy hands to push himself off the floor. He swayed slightly, set off-balance by the sudden change in position and by the ever-present movement of the ship. He’d never known that lookout posts moved so much relative to the enormous airship, but now he had greater respect for the lookouts he’d met.

Even Hawk had his uses, it seemed.

“Alright,” Kavo said uneasily, “How do we get down?”

Hawk cast him a look that said he was an idiot for even thinking to ask. “We will be using the rope,” he said, motioning to a rope that hung over the side. It didn’t look nearly secured enough, but Hawk had been using it, and he definitely weighed more than Kavo with his extra three inches’ worth of height and his quite superior muscle mass. Kavo had exercised himself to the bone in times before, but he’d never been able to gain much muscle; he had only gained definition. Some people, like Hawk, were simply built to be enormous walls of brick.

And if an enormous brick wall could glide down the rope effortlessly, as he was doing then, Kavo could.

He grabbed the coarsely wound fibres and took a deep, steadying breath. No fear and no regrets. He swung one leg over the edge and then the other, standing on the lip. He closed his eyes, prayed to the heavens, and all but leapt.

Fire erupted in his hands, the rope quickly burning against his calloused skin. He hissed and held tighter, but that only seemed to encourage it to make him pay for whatever he’d done. Air whooshed through his hair and whizzed past his ears, billowed his loose shirt about his torso and fluttered his pants almost violently about his ankles.

His feet hit the ground suddenly. The impact made his knees buckle, and he began to fall to the ground until Hawk grabbed him. Kavo knew the hold wasn’t mean to be rough, but it jerked him after nearly free-falling for so long. Luckily, it didn’t seem to dislocate something, although for a moment he worried that it had.

“That was not entirely horrible, was it?”

Kavo struggled to stand upright, but he could only grasp weakly at Hawk’s large arm. “I… hate you,” he wheezed. He hadn’t even noticed how much his heart rate and breathing had accelerated.

“You are not much for heights, are you?”

“I’m fine with heights,” Kavo managed. “It’s falling that bothers me.”

“That is normal. Evolution would dictate that humans afraid of heights were the ones who would survive natural selection, does it not?”

Kavo looked at Hawk. He hadn’t expected anything scientific coming from a man who looked so… wildly exotic. Then again, it was obvious that Hawk wasn’t stupid; every word he spoke was eloquent and had perfect diction, so he couldn’t have been a complete imbecile. Even so, Kavo hadn’t expected him to be educated. He hadn’t known that the Islands had education at all, let alone a good one.

“Regardless of that, we have landed on Lucia. We would very much appreciate your help in carting supplies, although I understand you may not wish to assist us.”
Kavo followed Hawk as he began walking, not knowing what else to do. “What are the supplies for?”

“The villages of Lucia are having a drought. None of their crops are growing. We have been using the overabundant supplies from Sol to help support them.”

Kavo raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking, right? You’re… pirates.” Pirates weren’t supposed to perform random acts of kindness. They were supposed to rape and pillage and incinerate.

“I never admitted that I was a pirate, did I?”

Kavo shook his head. This was weird. Were the pirates trying to trick him again? They had to have been. It wouldn’t work, though; he had seen through this plan. In the meantime, though, he could play along. After all, if they were going to be helping a village, their plan wasn’t entirely horrible.

Hawk lifted a large crate effortlessly and brushed past Kavo on his way out. Kavo didn’t think he could lift one of those crates on his own even on a good day. Luckily, he wasn’t expected to help out, so he didn’t; he simply continued trailing after Hawk.

Aizel and Torian were slightly ahead of them, carrying one box between the two of them. The old man Jal was talking to Gwendolyn amiably. It seemed everyone was in a good mood after their success that day. Even Hawk had a companionable air about him. If only they hadn’t taken satisfaction from something bad, Kavo might have enjoyed the changes in their demeanours.

Hawk moved down the ramp out of the airship with brisk, practiced steps. How many times had they taken supplies from the skyports? More importantly, if they had taken them back off the airship, where else had they carried them? Kavo highly doubted that they were always gracious.

Off the ship, Kavo looked around. He’d never visited any of the Islands of Zion, although he’d read about them and he knew of them. He knew that most of them looked like Hawk looked, although he’d heard that there were some variations between tribes. But nothing he’d supposedly known had prepared him for the wildness of the island.

It was breath-taking. Sunbeams winked from beyond the leafy green canopy overhead. A gentle breeze sighed through the land, stirring the branches and whistling through the trees. Everywhere Kavo looked, there were vivid greens and earthy browns, crystal blues and cotton whites. He had never seen such natural beauty anywhere before in his life; he had never imagined that it could exist.

Kavo looked at Hawk. He seemed at home now in the woods; a peace had settled over him. The enchanting atmosphere had seeped into his person, making him glow with a hidden light. His skin seemed to twinkle under the sunlight that peeked from between the crisp leaves, and his eyes never once lost their golden radiance.

Kavo could only think that the sight was one any person could fall in love with.
Then he caught himself. What sorts of things was he thinking? Him, falling in love? And with Hawk, a man who held him captive… that was ludicrous. He wasn’t even gay. He shook his head free of his mutinous thoughts and continued following Hawk. His lack of care for basic needs lately must have been getting to him; that was the only possible explanation.

They entered a clearing. Small huts the colour of red clay dotted the grassy landscape, and villagers bustled around the community. They did look like Hawk: they were copper-skinned and had straight, flowing black hair; they wore what was most probably animal skins and adorned their necks, wrists, and ankles with brightly coloured beads. Some of the women had patterns traced across their skin in a dark earth shade. When they saw Hawk and his bearing, their faces lit up brightly.

Almost immediately, the children swarmed Hawk. One of the women, a pretty woman who was most likely the chief’s wife, followed them complacently. Hundreds of beads hung from her slender neck, coloured indigo and coral and turquoise and tomato; more hung from the fringe on her skirt, and they clicked against each other as she walked.

“Hawk,” she greeted. Hawk nodded at her but continued to squeeze through the crowd that was quickly gathering around him. At last he set the crate in front of a crackling fire next to an older man. The man stood and raised his hands; one closed into a fist and the other hand gently covered it as he bowed. Hawk copied the motion before offering a hand to him, but he was waved off.

Again, Kavo was surprised by how little he knew. He hadn’t known that the Islanders lived very long. Still, the old man’s white hair and wrinkled skin were signs of a life lived.

Hawk and the man exchanged a few words in a language Kavo didn’t understand. They seemed content to chat and ignore Kavo, so he sat down in front of the kindling flames.

One of the young boys sat down next to him. He was petite and slender, and his short black hair had the slightest wave to it. If Kavo were the family type, he would have wanted to adopt such a son. As it was, however, he settled for finding the child a welcome companion.

The kid motioned toward his chest. “Helaku,” he said slowly.

Kavo blinked. What the hell did ‘Helaku’ mean? The kid repeated patiently, still motioning to himself. Was his name Helaku?

Kavo pointed at the kid. “Helaku,” he tried. The kid beamed and nodded excitedly. His hands motioned toward Kavo as he questioned, “Niye?”

Assuming that he was being asked for his own name, Kavo put a hand against his chest and introduced himself as, “Kavo.”

“Kavo,” Helaku repeated. Kavo nodded, a slight smile crossing his face. Helaku returned the smile while another child ran up to them.

She seemed even younger than Helaku. Strings of beads were clasped tightly in her tiny hands, and she held them out to Helaku.

With a glance toward Kavo, Helaku motioned at her. “Yoki,” he introduced the young girl. Still smiling, Kavo introduced himself to her. She stared at him with wide, innocent amber eyes, her small pink lips parted.

A middle-aged woman draped in a shawl called for her, and she raced back off to her mother’s arms, dropping the beads in Helaku’s lap. He sifted through them for a moment before picking up a string of reddish beads with white crackles throughout the stones. They reminded Kavo of the warm hearth back home.

Helaku held the string out and looked at Kavo expectantly. Hesitantly, Kavo took them. The beads were comfortingly warm against his palm, only further reminding him of his fireplace. He wished he could have been there and not simply remembered it from a thousand miles away.

“Kaha wanapi,” Helaku said. Of course, the words were less than unhelpful to Kavo. He motioned around his neck and then pointed to the beads, repeating, “Kaha wanapi.”

“Oh… you want me to… tie it around my neck?” Kavo picked them up and held them there, and Helaku nodded excitedly, grinning again. Shrugging, Kavo obeyed. He wasn’t going to turn down a gift for fear of being rude. What was the worst that could happen, anyway? They were just beads.

Hawk’s large hand rested lightly on Kavo’s shoulder. “It is time for us to leave now.”

“So soon?” Kavo asked. He found he actually rather enjoyed the children on the island. They were nice and seemed patient enough to put up with the language barrier.

“Yes. Gwendolyn wished to make it back to Gaea before nightfall.”

“Oh… Um, Hawk, can you explain to Helaku that we’re leaving, then? I don’t… I don’t speak the language, obviously, and it looked like you do, so…”

Hawk nodded and turned to Helaku, already spouting off in the Islanders’ language. Helaku looked disappointed but he nodded. Standing, he mimicked the motion that Hawk and the older man had done earlier, bowing his head. Hawk returned it, and Hawk quickly stood to do the same, albeit awkwardly.

“Lila pilamayaye,” the kid said. Hawk nodded again before leading Kavo off.

“Are we really leaving in such a hurry?”

“Yes, I am afraid so. It seems that we were followed from Sol. I do not know how I did not spot them, but we have to leave quickly,” he said quietly.

“Wh-what do you mean? We were followed? How could that happen?”

“It seems that the government was expecting us. As they were leaving the ship, Gwendolyn and Jaleber saw the airship approaching. Torian, Aizel and I were told to board the ship again as soon as possible.”

“But what about the village?”

“The government is after us. We are putting them in danger by remaining. Now, please, hurry.”

Kavo wasn’t sure why, but he obeyed. Even if Hawk was wrong, he didn’t want to put the children at risk by dilly-dallying. Yoki and Helaku were too young to be exposed to the type of violence that would ensue if the pirates and the government clashed on their soil.

Not thirty seconds after Kavo and Hawk had set foot on deck, the ramp was drawn in. Hawk was already making his way over to the lookout post, so Kavo decided to follow.
The climb was even more torturous this time, but Kavo was expecting it. This time, he didn’t allow any time for his hands to slip off the lip of the basket; he swung over the wall to join Hawk.

Hawk looked at him strangely. “When did you get that?”

“Get what?”

“Those beads… did you get them today?”

“Yeah. Helaku gave them to me. Why?”

“I was just wondering. Do you know what they mean?”

Kavo shook his head. He hadn’t known they even had a meaning at all.

“Those are flame agate beads. Agate is a protection stone, but that specific kind is meant to provide clarity during a transition period. I find it interesting that Helaku knew who you were so well. They befit you.”

Kavo fingered the beads. It was actually quite eerie how uncannily fitting they were to his situation. Did Helaku have the same gift of reading people that Hawk did? Was it something that ran through the blood of all Islanders? Kavo wasn’t sure; there was no way for anyone to know with any certainty outside of the Islanders.

A clap of thunder echoed. Kavo and Hawk exchanged a panicked look; it wasn’t storming. A wave of heat blasted against Kavo’s face, forcing his eyes shut with the intensity. He couldn’t recall ever feeling anything like it.

“No,” Hawk gasped beside him.

Kavo forced his eyes back open, squinting against the glare of hot red and orange. That was weird; the sun was on their backs.

Then it hit. Fire. That was fire blazing through the lush greenery. That was fire that had painted the village crimson.

“Helaku,” Kavo breathed. Without a second thought, he leapt off the post and tore down the rope. He didn’t feel the burn ignited in his palms, didn’t feel how the rope scoured his hands raw. The only thing on his mind was the two little children he had only just met.

His hands slapped against the wall of the airship. “Helaku!” he screamed. “Yoki!” He swung a leg over the wall. He had to save them.

A large, strong arm wrapped around his waist, halting him. “Kavo, it is done. There is no one left to save.”

“No! Let me go! Helaku and Yoki, they need help!”

“Calm yourself. You are only going to die if you leave this ship.” Even as Hawk spoke, the ship rocked as it lifted off the ground. Kavo didn’t dare stop trying to wrestle free, though, to no avail; Hawk’s arm was firmly around his middle and it wasn’t relenting. “Please, Kavo. Stop.”

Panting, Kavo went limp. As the ship zoomed into the air, Hawk tugged him off the ledge. Kavo fell against his chest, still breathing heavily; he didn’t move a muscle otherwise.

“Are you sure…?”

“Yes. I apologize, but I speak from experience. There is nothing that can be done.”

“Is this… is this what had happened to you?”

“Somewhat. My village was not brought any supplies, however. We were simply existing, and they did not want us to.”

Kavo shook his head. “This can’t be happening. None of this… it isn’t real…”

“Would you like to return to our room?”

Kavo nodded. “Yeah. I think that’s a good idea,” he whispered. Hawk nodded and supported his weight, leading him away from the fire that blazed on.

Kavo didn’t have the slightest idea what to think about this new development.

Empyrian Post 9

2010-11-21T23:27:00.002-05:00

Chapter 7: Changing Impressions

“Would you wake up, you stupid— ugh!”

“Oof! Ow, hey, what the hell are you doing!?” Kavo shouted at the very rude awakening he received, in the form of a small boy collapsed on his chest.

“I was just trying to get you up, ‘cause Hawk told me to, but you’re, like, a really heavy sleeper, so I was trying to shake you, but then I fell, and…”

“Are you going to get off any time soon?” Kavo ground out.

“Oh— I guess I should, huh? You’re actually not as uncomfortable as you look, though— has anyone told you that?”

“Aizel… Get. Of—”

“Hey, Aizel, ‘s he up ye— …” Torian paused in the doorway, staring. Kavo and Aizel blinked back at him for a while before it seemed that it hit Aizel why he was staring so blankly at the two of them.

“Oh— oh god, Tor, it’s definitely not whatever you’re thinking it might be. I just fell— he and I, we’re not…”

“No, definitely not!” Kavo agreed. “I mean, he’s like twelve, and a boy, no less, an—”

Torian laughed somewhat suddenly. “Of course. How silly, Aizel doing that with you. C’mon, Aiz. I wanted to see you.”

Aizel was blushing as he climbed off of Kavo, quite clearly embarrassed. “Right, he’s up now,” he said, as if it weren’t obvious enough by now. “Oh—Kavo, Hawk and Gwendolyn wanted to see you on deck once I managed to get you out of bed. You can find that on your own, right? I think they figured you might try to kill me if I escorted you, so…”

“Aizel,” Torian interrupted. “He doesn’t need to hear anything that you just told him. You need to be careful, remember?”

“Right… sorry…”

“C’mon. Let’s not be late. Kavo, know that if you mess things up again, even Gwendolyn’s favour won’t stop either Hawk or me. We will make sure you don’t continue to ruin our lives any more.”

Kavo had thought Torian was more friendly that that when they had first met. Apparently he didn’t take kindly to some of the things Kavo had done and was likely to do in the future. Then again, Kavo didn’t imagine many people should; he was capable of being quite horrible, and he utilized that ability as well as he could.

“Alright. So, um, bye, Kavo. Sorry I fell on you, but it’s good that you’re awake now,” Aizel said awkwardly. He waved, possible even more awkwardly, before Torian led him out of the tiny bedroom, glaring at Kavo all the while.

Kavo finally sat up, brushing a hand through his hair. He could really use a shower by now, he was sure. He doubted Hawk’s half-ass sponge bath while he’d hardly been conscious had cleaned him very well. Being wiped down hardly sufficed after all he’d done and been through.

He wondered what Hawk and Gwendolyn could have wanted with him. If they wanted him woken and sent to the deck, it wasn’t likely to be anything good. Of course, he probably didn’t really deserve anything good, and it was fine that way. He didn’t exactly want them to be comfortable in the least.

It looked like his feelings would have to change slightly, though, because Hawk and Torian were becoming increasingly volatile. If he stepped out of line any more, he may not be granted any more second chances, whether Gwendolyn was taking pity on him or not. One person’s favour wouldn’t be enough to sway the opinions of the rest of the crew, considering what he’d done. He didn’t blame them, of course. If someone had murdered his captain (before he was the captain), he probably wouldn’t have been able to keep from killing them, even if his new captain told him not to.

Resigning himself to his new and quite undesirable fate, Kavo swung out of bed. The longer he put it off, the more he imagined things going poorly— well, even more poorly than they were likely to go, which he had to admit already wasn’t good. He would have to keep in mind that pissing people off when they were in charge of whether he lived or died wasn’t exactly a good idea.

Kavo slowly wound his way up to the deck. He didn’t pass a single person on his way. If the ship lost any more of its crew, it wouldn’t be able to function at all. He would have to keep that in mind for when they landed; maybe that would be how he could escape.

“Kavo,” he heard Gwendolyn’s silky voice say. “It’s about time you rolled out of bed. Did the government not believe in wake-up times?”

“The government believed in alarm clocks,” he explained.

“In any case, we’re making a stop today. Hawk says one of the islands is getting low on supplies. If you interfere with anything today, we will make sure to give you the same treatment you gave Ryk. Is that understood?”

Kavo fought not to say anything about how they couldn’t really be sure what he had done to Ryk, seeing as his body was probably thousands of miles away by now. “I, uh… yeah,” he sighed. “I mean, erm… yes? Yes ma’am?”

Hawk crossed his arms over his chest as Gwendolyn placed a hand on a bare hip. “I suppose that will have to suffice,” she said. “Anyhow, stay with Hawk once we land. He’s the only one of us I can be sure you won’t even try to kill, so please behave.” She stalked off, likely in the direction of the airship’s navigation systems.
Hawk and Kavo stared at each other. Neither of them seemed too thrilled to be with each other yet again.

“So… I feel like the universe is trying to tell me something,” Kavo said.

“I can agree with you on that.”

“And I feel like that something is along the lines of, ‘Please kill yourself already.’”

“That is interesting. Is the universe’s coercion working yet?”

“I don’t think so.”

“That is a shame. I cannot say I am looking forward to being your babysitter today.”

“Sorry to be an inconvenience.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right. I’m not.”

“Stop being a pain. I have actual work to do.” Hawk turned and walked abruptly. “Follow me. It seems I have to cart you around today.”

“Well, don’t sound too excited,” Kavo mumbled, trailing along behind him.

“I will try my best to contain my enthusiasm.”

Hawk led the way to the lookout post, which brought back some less than happy memories for Kavo. He had seen Hawk from there when he’d fired the arrow that had re-charted the course of his whole life.

“Are we… going up there?”

“Where else would we go?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere that actually made sense in this day and age? Who really uses lookout posts still?”

“We do. It is easier to fire arrows from here, and our radar systems are not always more advanced than the stealth systems of the government. Sometimes it is better to see your enemies. If you had been making use of a lookout post, then perhaps you would have spotted us before it was too late.”

“I will have to keep that in mind for later, then,” Kavo remarked half-heartedly as Hawk began to climb.

It was actually fairly impressive, watching him climb up the pole. Kavo had never really had the chance to watch anyone climb the enormous tower, and Hawk did it like he’d never done anything else in his whole life. He didn’t even look like he was hoisting nearly two hundred pounds up the thing while they were flying thousands of feet above the ground.

He was rather graceful, truthfully. Kavo supposed he should have known; Hawk had always moved gracefully. But watching him climb was weird, like he was some sort of enormous feline in the wild. The next thing Kavo knew, Hawk flipped over the edge of the basket and sprung up like an acrobat. It was making Kavo’s mind nearly explode just to watch him.

“Will you be joining me?” Hawk called down, his voice loud and booming from the projection.

Kavo squinted up at the basket. He didn’t trust himself climbing all that way, particularly for the first time while they were still soaring through the air at possibly a hundred miles an hour, but it didn’t seem that he had a choice. After all, he had to stay close to Hawk. It was hard to tell what would happen to him if he didn’t concede.

With a reluctant sigh, Kavo began climbing. The venture was long, and it seemed that although he kept pulling and lifting and pulling again, he was hardly capable of moving. By the time he wrapped his fingers around the lip of the basket, every muscle in his arm ached with fatigue at even the consideration of movement. Hawk
towered over him and stared down expectantly, apparently either waiting for him to request help or to heave himself over the edge.

And then it all went downhill.

Kavo’s hand began to slip; he lost his grip. He scrabbled to hold on, but his hands were damp with sweat from the exertion to reach the top, and his muscles were tired. The wood, rough against his fingers, began to splinter at his effort. Finally, though, the friction wasn’t enough to hold him up against the pain and exhaustion; Kavo fell.

The stop was sudden and rough, and jerked him in a way he hadn’t expected. The warm and firm surface dug the splinters deeper into his hand, irritated his skin, but he couldn’t say he minded. More gently than Kavo would have anticipated, Hawk lifted him over the side and set him on the floor of the basket.

“I… don’t think I want to do that again,” Kavo breathed. His heart hammered in his chest, pounding against his rib cage. He could feel the adrenaline pulsing along with his blood, pumping through every inch of every vein in his body, as he tried to regain control of his suddenly gelatinous limbs.

“I had not guessed that you would want to attempt it the first time,” Hawk remarked, still standing over him like a statue.

“I didn’t. Didn’t have much choice, either, though.”

“You did. You simply picked the better of the two without much thought. It seems that you are occasionally capable of being somewhat rational.”

Kavo sat up, wincing. “I wish I could say thanks for that, but I’m pretty sure it was more of an insult.”

“No.” Hawk cast him an odd look. “It was a compliment.”

“Oh. Well. Thanks, I guess.” Kavo tried to stand, but he had to grapple for support. Even if he weren’t physically and psychologically exhausted after his near-death, the post seemed to sway quite dramatically in the wind. Kavo wasn’t sure how anyone could stay upright, let alone steady enough to shoot an arrow with the precision of a homing missile. “So where are we headed?”

“We will be stopping at Sol, and then we are landing on the Lucia Island.”

“You all seem especially protective of the Islands.”

“After what happened to my village, I think we have a right to be. We do not want a repeat of that disaster.”

Kavo still didn’t believe that the government, the same entity that had supported his entire family for generations, could be evil enough to destroy an entire innocent village, yet that was how Hawk said it was. He couldn’t have been blamed for not trusting Hawk at all.

“I know you do not believe me; I can understand why you would not. However, what I say is the truth. I would not lie, even to you.”

Hawk didn’t seem like the type of man who would lie; Kavo could agree with that. Even so, he couldn’t believe that the government had attacked a peaceful village so cruelly and without warning. Surely there was a secret reason that Hawk wasn’t aware of, or that Hawk didn’t want to believe… there was something else that at least Kavo hadn’t been made aware of.

“How much longer until we’re there?”

Hawk glanced at the sun, which hovered above them like a blindingly white pearl. Kavo could see the golden glint of his eyes when the sun hit him just right, like it lit a spark somehow in the mysterious man.

“It should not be much longer. At the most, an hour; more probably, twenty minutes.”

That was quite a difference in times to Kavo, but he had to admit that it was impressive for Hawk to guess where they were geographically with not much more than a thirty-second glance at the shining sun.

“If you would like, you may sit and rest. I understand that you may not be used to today’s exertion.”

Kavo frowned. Hawk made him sound weak and girly, like he’d never worked a day in his life. Just because he wasn’t used to climbing twenty feet up long wooden posts didn’t mean that he was unused to exercise. In the academy, he’d exercised quite rigorously; on his ship, he hadn’t had the luxury of slacking off on his training, not to mention he’d grown extremely used to a daily routine of exercises. And besides, a large portion of his exhaustion could be attributed to the turmoil that near-death experiences inflicted on one’s psyche. He’d been sure he was going to die.

He hadn’t, though. Hawk had saved him. Had he thanked him yet? No wonder everyone hated him.

Sighing, Kavo decided he would try being nice, even if only for a moment. “Thanks, by the way. You didn’t have to catch me, and you probably didn’t want to, but you still did, so… thank you. I do appreciate it.”

“There is no need to thank me. You have done your best today not to anger anyone; that alone proves to me that your life is worth living. I would not let anyone capable of changing his way perish if I could help him at all.”

“Well. Even so, thanks. It’s nice to know that someone would save my life on this ship after all that I’ve done.” It touched Kavo that he could be forgiven in the slightest. Hawk not wishing him dead was a start, even if a small one. He liked the idea that he could be trusted enough to be kept alive.

Even if he knew that he couldn’t be, and shouldn’t be.

He sat down as Hawk had suggested, slouching against the wall of the bin they were standing in. Hawk could do his job; Kavo saw no reason to attempt to assist him. The pirates were probably going to Sol only to steal supplies. So far, Hawk was the one to show him kindness; that was saying something, with as cold as the man was.

Kavo supposed Aizel hadn’t been too bad, either, and Torian’s threats had been fair. But he wasn’t one to put even trifling grudges behind him quickly. Hawk had only won him over for the time being; once things had settled back down and he was on somewhat sturdier ground, Kavo would likely hate him all over again. But for now, with no one to witness this slight weakness of feelings on his part, Kavo could pretend that things could be somewhat normal between the two of them.

Because, face it, Kavo and Hawk were far from normal. One minute they were at each other’s throats and the next they were reasonably companionable, and Hawk was saving lives as opposed to ruining them. Individually, even, they were insane. Hawk was a modern-day Captain Hook— except he wasn’t the captain, of course— and Kavo had probably every complex known to man in one form or another. It wasn’t exactly unheard of that two people who were very different from the rest of society wouldn’t be similar to each other in any way, shape or form.

“If you want to rest, I will make sure to wake you when we arrive, if you wish.”

“I don’t really care,” Kavo muttered. He didn’t want anything to do with their thieving plans.

“That is okay, as well. I simply thought you may want to get off the ship for a while. Sometimes it can feel like a prison. Although I know it technically may be yours, we will not confine you entirely to it. I, at the very least, will be willing to escort you on land.”

“I’ve seen Sol enough. I’d rather not be awake to be witness to whatever crimes you plan to commit there. But I’d like to take a walk on the island.”

“I understand. I will be sure to alert you when we land at Lucia.”

“Thanks.” Kavo closed his eyes and set back. He could allow this; Hawk understood the circumstances of the day, having been with him through its entirety. He may not have trusted everything about Hawk, but he trusted that he was safe to relax and perhaps nap for a while.

Empyrian Post 8

2010-11-21T15:34:00.002-05:00

Chapter 6: Well, Sleeping in the Same Room is a Start

“Come with me.” Hawk didn’t pause before he spun and was walking. Aizel, on the other hand, being more polite, held out a hand to help Kavo up.

“You do know I’m not, like, an honoured guest, right?” Kavo asked. He didn’t take the boy’s hand.

Aizel retracted his offer and crossed his arms. “Fine then. Just trying to be nice,” he muttered. “It’s hard telling how much longer we’re stuck together.”

“You make being with me sound absolutely lovely.”

Aizel scoffed. “You’re not exactly everyone’s favourite person in the world.”

“I’m sorry. Should I be?”

“It would make our lives a lot easier, don’t you think?”

“Why would I want to make your lives easier? I’m a prisoner.”

“He will do everything in his power to make us miserable,” Hawk said from in front of them, “And he expects us to do the same. That is how prisoners of the government are treated.”

Kavo scowled. “What do you know?”

“Enough.”

“I lied,” Kavo said. “Hawk or whatever the hell you’re called, you are the most frustrating person aboard this ship.”

“I wish I could say I am sorry you feel that way. However, I cannot.”

“I can’t say I care much either way, whether you’re sorry or not. You’re all assholes,” he mumbled.

“Says the person who killed a man,” Aizel chimed in none too helpfully. Child or not, Kavo rather wanted to hit him.

“Whatever. Anyway, why the heck am I staying with you people? Shouldn’t I be, like, back in the brig or something?”

“You’d think so,” Aizel said, “But Mum doesn’t really like keeping you imprisoned. Dunno, guess you struck a chord or something. Anyhow, here we are,” Aizel announced, still managing to maintain a companionable tone. It almost— no, it really did— annoy Kavo that he could be so cherry and chipper almost endlessly.

The three pushed open a lightweight wooden door and stepped into a small closet space. Kavo raised an eyebrow. Not only were there two beds crammed into the room for the three of them, but it didn’t look like it could even hold all of them at once.

Weren’t there only six people left on the airship? Kavo understood the logic of having two men (if Aizel could be called a man, which hardly suited him) watch over him, but there had to have been larger rooms available.

“I know that it is small,” Hawk said, as if reading Kavo’s thoughts, “But it normally had accommodated only myself. Still, I do not think Aizel’s old room with Torian was at all larger.”

Aizel shook his head to confirm it. “Torian had a habit of tripping over my bed when he first woke.” Aizel’s voice was fond as he smiled lightly.

“So the two of you are pretty close, huh?”

Aizel shrugged. “We’ve known each other seven years now. It’d be pretty strange if we weren’t close, wouldn’t it?”

“Not really. I’d known men since childhood and I couldn’t stand them.”

Aizel sent him an odd look, and Hawk remarked, “It must be so unfortunate to be like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It is a sad existence, to exist so dispassionately.”

“I don’t ‘exist dispassionately,’” Kavo argued. “Disliking a few people doesn’t suddenly mean I’m always apathetic—because disliking means I do care, doesn’t it? Even negatively, it’s still emotion, isn’t it?”

Aizel shrugged again, casting his gaze to Hawk. “I would rather be hated than have someone feel nothing. At least then my death would never be something.”

Hawk stared for a long moment before he finally turned away to dutifully smooth the covers on the new bed. I suppose you are correct. My death should be a blessing rather than a curse. Even so, I would rather like to be missed.”

Aizel grinned. “I promise I’ll miss you. Miss me?”

“I suppose it is only fair.”

“Always fair and judicious, aren’t you?” Aizel laughed.

“I make my attempts. I must admit I sometimes do not succeed.”

“Often,” Kavo interrupted. “I think you like to be unjust toward me.”

“I do not think you have any reason to condemn me. I have not harmed you but for once, during battle, after which I healed all of your wounds which I had caused. I have done all that is in my power to keep you safe since you arrived. You, on the other hand, show no remorse for the murder of my leader, not to mention your violence toward me personally. I see nothing which gives you any right to complain.”

“If it weren’t for that initial injury, I would not have attacked you.”

“You would have. You had planned to kill all of us that very day. I refused to accept defeat; you still do, although you remain at a loss. Clearly you understand my desire to win.”

Kavo opened his mouth but he could think of no smart remark, no witty return, no clever rejoinder. Whether he liked it or not, Hawk was right: he had been reasonably gracious thus far. He had cared for Kavo despite hating him, and he had tried to halt Ryk’s advances while Kavo was injured. He hadn’t even thrown a punch when Kavo attacked him.

Yet Kavo couldn’t help but loathe everything he stood for. His whole life, Kavo had learned of how savage and wretched the Islanders were; one exception would not change that. Kavo hadn’t even determined him to be an exception—Hawk’s actions couldn’t have reflected who he was. They simply couldn’t have.

And Aizel was probably much worse inside. No one was polite to a Prisoner of War. It didn’t make any sense to be. Were they trying to befriend him in the hopes he’d let out some sort of government secret? Fat chance, that. Kavo wasn’t about to tell them anything.

“I thought as much,” Hawk said in response to Kavo’s silence. “You are a remarkably simply person to read.”

Kavo scowled. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough. You were a captain, and you still like to pretend you are. You think all of us are worthless and useless, and you are some sort of special being; we are lesser. You hate that I know this and everything else about you, you hate that Aizel does not, and you hate that I would say this aloud. What else is there to know? I think that very nearly covers it.”

Aizel snickered behind his hand. Kavo’s urge to hit him and hard was quickly returning; he found the whole situation far too amusing to not hit, really. Who laughed at things like that? Immature twelve-year-olds, apparently, even if they were technically five years older than that.

“He’s got you pegged, hasn’t he?” Aizel asked.

“Hardly,” Kavo argued.

“Mm, I disagree. ‘sides, Hawk’s never really wrong about people. It’s one of his thousands of gifts from the gods, right?”

“I would not claim it was a blessing which came from the deities, but I suppose you could think of it that way. It has less to do with guessing and more with observation, Aizel. Psychics, of whom I am aware you are thinking, are not real.”

“They can be.”

“In any case, if they are, I am not one of them. Now, Aizel, go finish your work for the day before you anger your mother after her trying day.”

“Fine, fine, I’m leaving. If he causes you trouble, you know where to find me.”

“I assure you that he is nothing I cannot handle, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Reassured, Aizel left Hawk alone with Kavo. Later he may realize that this hadn’t been a smart deal, after all, but at the time being, he was content to do as Hawk suggested.

“Why is it,” Kavo eventually asked, “That you claim I know nothing about you and you pretend to know my life story?”

“I think it is that way. Is it not? Was I wrong?”

“No, you weren’t wrong, but that’s today. That’s how my life is today. I can tell you that today, you’re grumpy and irritated that you have to watch me and you’re tired of fetching me out of trouble, and you want to keep a close eye on me. See? That wasn’t very hard. Anyone can do it. It’s called paying attention.”

“So you were listening when I said that this only involved my observational skills.”

“Yeah, but I mean, everyone has those observational skills, as you so call them. They’re called eyes! But that doesn’t mean you know who I am or where I came from, what my father did… you don’t really know anything.”

“You are incorrect there, as well. I know that you are called Captain Kavo Dula and that you commanded your own airship; I know that you would soon be acceding to the role of commander in chief. Judging from your accent, you lived in southern Gaea, therefore you likely went to the academy at Ava to train. I am guessing that your father was in the air fleet, and you joined to follow in his footsteps and carry on the family trade. Am I doing sufficient so far?”

Kavo growled. That was all true, so why did it frustrate him so much? Hawk didn’t to know any of that, and Kavo hadn’t even had to tell him for him to figure out everything that Kavo was, everything he thought was important in his life.

Kavo hadn’t even told his last name to anyone yet. How would Hawk know that?

“Wait, how do you know my last name is Dula?”

“One of your old crewmembers called out that name before he died. I assumed it was your name. I take it that I was not mistaken.”

“No,” Kavo conceded, “You weren’t. How do you know all that stuff?”

Hawk cracked a smirk. “I am not called Hawk for no reason. After all, it is only a nickname, and not my given one. Aizel once said that I resembled a hawk, and Ryk found the name fitting. At the time, I had not given them anything to call me, so it became my unofficial name.”

Hawk’s eyes certainly fit the profile. They glinted with ancient knowledge and what was very most likely insanity. Their golden amber depths, bright against his darkness, seemed to exude some sort of exotic nature. The rest of him, however, was far too bulky and large to be a hawk or any sort of bird, for that matter.

Kavo glanced at him covertly. His hair, as well, perhaps resembled a bird. It was smooth and shiny like the feathers of a starling, and it glistened in the sunlight just as well. He found it rather amusing that Hawk’s hair was so well-kept and groomed almost to the point of being more so than Gwendolyn’s. It was especially amusing that Hawk’s hair was nice considering that he seemed to be such a strong and masculine figure in the crew. After all, he was the largest, and he stood the tallest; he seemed to be quite dominant over the rest, despite the fact that he didn’t seem to exert any sort of pressure or force over them. In fact, aside from his actions toward Kavo, he seemed to be reasonably companionable toward everyone else, actually. Even Aizel, who grated on Kavo’s every last nerve, didn’t look like he was on Hawk’s bad side. Hawk had actually been rather nice to him.

So why couldn’t Hawk be nice to Kavo? Sure, Kavo had done very little do deserve it, but Hawk was hardly doing a good job of starting a relationship that wasn’t entirely drenched with animosity and enmity. Shouldn’t he have believed in some crap about worldly harmony and peace, or being the better man, or something? Shouldn’t he have taken the first step in being amiable? He knew Kavo wouldn’t; he had even acknowledged that Kavo was not likely to be nice to much of anyone. But the fact remained that Kavo was still being treated like a lesser creature for no real reason other than he was the supposed enemy, captured and cared for or not.

“You know,” Kavo eventually said, deciding on some ridiculously insane whim to verbalize these sorts of thoughts, “I’m not some kind of lesser creature just because I was a government captain.”

“You treat me as if I am not good enough because of my background as an Islander. Why should I treat you any differently than you treat me? I do not care much for earning your respect or affection. I care even less about your feelings, however hurt they may be by my disrespect. When you begin to show me some sort of respect or kindness, I will return it. Until then, I will not act as if we are equals, because that is not what I believe. Above all, I believe that honesty is the best policy. Honestly, I greatly dislike you, and if I had been commanding this ship, you would not have lived. However, you struck favour with Ryk and apparently Gwendolyn, as well. I cannot change that, nor will I attempt to. Simply know that I will not treat you with dignity as I treat the others. The others have earned it, and you have not.”

“So I have to earn the right to be treated like I’m human?”

“You have to treat me as you expect to be treated. I began by treating you as a human; I healed every wound you had. Most enemies would have left you to rot until you woke and then tortured you for information. Instead, the crew and I kept you alive and well, kept you healthy. When you were released from your bindings, you attacked us. First you attacked me, and then you murdered our leader. You have done nothing that is worthy of being treated as if you were a human; you have not acted anything like any human being should ever act. You are being the unreasonable one here.”

“How am I being unreasonable for wanting to fight against my captors? I only want to escape! That is all I want out of life.”

“However, you cannot be allowed to escape, so you resort to attacking people who have been undoubtedly kind and gracious. You murdered the only reason you were still alive; if it were not for Gwendolyn, you would have been killed for that crime. Yet for some reason, you struck her fancy, so you must remain here with us. That does not grant you the right to treat everyone poorly and expect better. You have proved neither your worth nor your humanity. We have no reason to treat you well; we would receive nothing from it. Do not say that we should act as if you are one of us. You are not a friend. You are the enemy.”

“I murdered my enemy, just like you want to kill me! How are you justified and I’m not? I murdered the man who was trying to take the one last piece of dignity that I had left. What makes you right?”

“He had been perfectly civil to you until you chose to attack him, as well. As I have already told you, he is the reason that you find yourself alive now. If it were not for Ryk’s attraction toward you, you would have been killed just as your shipmates were killed, and we all would have celebrated and moved on with our lives. You would have never been a second thought in our brains. Ryk, however, saw some value in you even before the battle was over; he chose to personally carry you to our ship away from the fighting, because he wanted to ensure that you were not injured further. He was always chivalrous when he could afford it.”

“He wasn’t chivalrous to me.”

“He was not chivalrous to you after you pinned him to a table and tried to smash in his face. Few people could manage even civility after an attack like that; few people would have left their assailants alive. Yet he did, because he liked you. You were not meant to be a one-night stand for him. I would even confess that I believed he had planned to truly court you, if I knew the notion would not incite your anger.”

“Too late,” Kavo muttered. “My ‘anger’ is already quite ‘incited’. I don’t see how anyone who practically molested me at the dinner table could ever be considered above par, let alone chivalrous. I attacked him after he tried to feel me up. It wasn’t like it was out of nowhere, you know. I’m not that temperamental.”

“Oh, so you are only just temperamental enough to attack and murder someone for wanting to date you. That clearly is very normal.”

Kavo gave a loud, fake laugh. “Ha! As if anything on this whole fucking ship is normal. You’re all out of your minds! Ryk was a creepy-ass molester, Gwendolyn’s a psycho bitch, Aizel’s got some crazy disorder like he’s still ten, that old man’s a fucking senile coot, Torian’s insane, and you’re just… you’re fucking you, some condescending bastard who thinks he’s better because he believes in some shit like harmony. Newsflash, dickhead: belief systems don’t make you right, and they certainly don’t make you better than anyone else.”

“I never said once what I believed in, nor did I state that I am superior because of it. I do not think our beliefs have anything to do with the differences in status between the two of us. However, I was chief, and you were never a king; I think already that that places me ahead of you.”

“I think you’re wrong there, too. Our beliefs have everything to do with it. In Gaea, the fact that you were the chief in your tribe means nothing; you are still nothing to us. Saying that your land’s government makes you better…”

“Yet you do the same. You think that being a government official means that you are automatically excused from accepting any responsibility for your actions. You forget that you are no longer that same government official; they think you are long dead. Your life belongs to us and not to them. Belonging to the government does not mean you are no longer fallible. Your government killed my family and my people, and you continue to slowly exterminate them. There is no situation in which anyone could consider this the right thing to do unless that person was legitimately insane.”

Kavo growled. “My government killed no one who didn’t deserve it.”

“My daughters did not deserve anything that they were given.”

“My government didn’t kill your family in cold blood! That’s not what the government is like. You may be a fucking savage, but that—”

“Do not ever call me that. I am no savage.”

Kavo glared in response, quite aptly communicating that he was absolutely positive that Hawk was, in fact, a savage. Hawk returned the harsh look with one of equivalent intensity when the door slowly creaked open.

Aizel looked between the two of them awkwardly and, frankly, slightly fearfully.

“Uh, hi, guys. Erm, I’m back.”

“So we’ve noticed,” Kavo said, not tearing his eyes away.

“M-maybe I should come back later… things seem kinda tense…”

Hawk scoffed and looked away at long last, staring at the wall. “It is nothing. Stay, lest we tear each other’s throats out.”

“Oh. Er, i-is that likely to happen?”

“Possibly. Did you not know what you had volunteered yourself for? After all, he certainly has a past record for murdering the people with whom he is left alone in a bedroom. Surely you had not expected a tea party upon your return.”

“No, but I had expected that if things got this intense, one of you’d be dead.”

“I am afraid you are mistaken. I am sure we both wish that were the case, however.”

“Without a doubt,” Kavo replied.

Aizel blew out a long breath. “So,” he tried. No one seemed to even consider answering up. “What do you guys wanna do now?” he attempted again.

“I do not care what the two of you wish to do, as long as it is done either quietly and in the dark or outside of this room. It is time for me to sleep.”

“Whatever,” Kavo mumbled, “I’m going to sleep too.”

The two grumpily climbed into the two beds, leaving Aizel standing awkwardly with nowhere to sleep.

“Uh, guys?” he tried. “Where am I supposed to go to sleep?” No one answered him this time, either. “Guys.” When only silence followed, he sighed. “Whatever. You suck. I’m going to Torian’s.” He didn’t bother to make sure anyone was listening before he left, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Empyrian Post 7

2010-11-14T10:22:00.002-05:00

Chapter 5: New Faces

“What do you think we should do with him?” A timid voice spoke.

“I dunno.” A deeper, more mature one answered.

“Maybe we—T-Torian, I think he’s waking up!”

“Well, whaddya want me to do about it!?”

“I don’t know, hit him with something!”

Kavo groaned, reaching up to rub at his pounding head. “Please don’t hit me,” he mumbled. He squinted against the blinding light to see two of the crew—the two men he hadn’t previously met: the tall, dark-skinned one and the young boy—looking down at him. Sort of. The boy was cowering behind the other man and clutching to his sleeve tightly, but other than that, they were both looking down at Kavo. “Who’re you?”

“Torian, don’t let it kill me!”

“Why would I… you look like you’re twelve.”

The kid bristled at that. “Seventeen,” he corrected.

“Don’ look it, does he?” The other man, Torian, said. “I’ve known Aizel since he was ten; I dun think he’s aged a day since.”

Aizel, the boy, blushed darkly. “I don’t think my age is the most pressing matter right now,” he ground out. Kavo supposed he had a point; an enemy lying at one’s feet certainly did not call for teasing prepubescent boys. “And besides, you know I can’t help it; Mum’s the same way.”

“Well, yes, but even so— wait, I thought you said it wasn’t the time.”

“It’s not.”

“Then why are you still talking about it?”

“I’m not; you are.”

Kavo watched the two bicker. They seemed entirely enthralled in arguing with each other, and Kavo saw his chance; he could quickly slip out, preferably without them noticing, and then find a new place to hide— and not fall asleep this time. He very cautiously began to crawl by them, taking great care not to make any sudden movements that would cause anything to squeak or rustle or even anticipate being touched.

Clunk. Kavo jumped back from the knife that was suddenly no more than two inches from his hand, stuck in the floor. “Don’t you move,” Torian said without so much as taking his eyes off of Aizel. “Whatever you’ve done with Ryk won’t be the same for us.”

Kavo glared. “Ryk deserved it. You two don’t… yet. Let me past you.”

“Or what? You’re outnumbered, and we could call for help. You don’t even have the element of surprise going for you.”

“I didn’t become second-in-command of the fleet for nothing.”

“We didn’t survive attacks from the first-in-command by luck, either. I suggest you sit still and behave for once.”

Frustrated but unable to further dispute his skills, Kavo did as he was told. “What are you planning?”

“If we knew, would we tell you?”

Kavo groaned. “You two… are the most frustrating people on this ship, and that’s saying something.”

Aizel and Torian exchanged a glance. “Ryk must be gone then,” they both said in unison. The fact that they’d spent seven years together was certainly evident.
Aizel coughed, seeming a little embarrassed, then said, “Torian, do you wanna go get Hawk and Mum? I’ll stay here.”

“You sure?” Aizel shot him a look, and Torian held his hands up in the universal gesture for surrender. “Fine, fine.” Torian turned his next comment to Kavo. “Don’t think you can get away without me here.” Then he vanished through the door to deck.

Aizel didn’t say anything; he didn’t seem like he would be very talkative while Torian was gone. He simply knelt down and wrenched the knife out of the floor before sheathing it about his waist.

“Wait… that was your knife?”

Aizel tilted his head. “What, you didn’t think Torian had good aim, did you? He would have hit you for sure. Well, ‘less he was aiming for you, of course.”

Kavo blinked. It seemed that there wasn’t a single normal person aboard the ship. The most normal seemed to be Torian, who apparently had a horrible aim and liked to forget that he was supposed to be punishing a prisoner of war. Kavo was reasonably sure that the entire ship must have been home to some sort of illegal drug scandal, and there were still airborne remnants of the drugs floating around. That, or the pirates were actually doing drugs; after all, they were pirates.

Torian quickly returned, Gwendolyn and Hawk in tow. Wait a tic…

Kavo looked between Gwendolyn and Aizel. He had definitely told Torian to go get his mother. Gwendolyn didn’t look old enough to be anyone’s mother, let alone a seventeen-year-old boy. Maybe Aizel’s mother had been otherwise occupied; that had to have been it.

“Have you found Ryk yet?” she asked, looking around the room.

“Er… not exactly.”

Gwendolyn looked over to Kavo. “Where is he?”

“How long was I out?”

Aizel looked confused but nonetheless said, “I don’t know, about an hour?”

“He’s about a hundred miles back, then.”

“A hundred miles— you threw him off the ship?”

“Er… would you believe me if I said he fell off?”

“It’s not likely,” she said, crossing her arms. Whatever witty response Kavo had prepared was lost then, because really, who else hadn’t wanted to stare at her chest? “You’re aware we can’t kill you, right? We can, however, make your life here as miserable as humanly possible while you continue to cause us all manner trouble.”

“I can take him,” a gruff voice interrupted. Kavo looked to see the scraggly old man from earlier— Kavo had forgotten him.

“That’s really not necessary,” Gwendolyn said gently, her hands pressing as if to quell him.

“Well, what else are ye kids gon’ do with ‘im?”

The other four looked between each other, each person seeming to ask, “Do you want to risk your life caring for him?”

Eventually, Aizel raised a hand. “I can take care of him.”

“Aizel, that’s even less necessary. You know I’d rather take care of him myself before I let you go even anywhere near him—”

“I’m still sitting right here,” Kavo reminded, annoyed. It irritated him that he’d been not only forgotten while they were speaking about him but also that everyone seemed to consider him such a bother, as if it were his own fault that he was there. He hadn’t exactly planned his own capture.

“We know,” Aizel and Gwendolyn replied. When they did that, they did sound awfully similar, but Kavo was still convinced it must have been a mistake.

“Look, Mum,” Or not, apparently, “I know it’s dangerous, but what other choice do we have? If you take care of him and you die, we don’t even have another captain. If I die, we still have Torian and Jal left.”

Gwendolyn sighed. “I don’t like this, at all.”

“Neither do I. Aizel, you are not going to be left alone with him,” Torian spoke up. “If something happened to you, it would destroy all of us.”

“But I’m the one least likely to die, aren’t I? I mean, no offense, Tor, but you have crap aim, and Jal can hardly even hold a knife anymore.”

“You make a valid argument.” Hawk’s deep voice suddenly filled the room. “However, I think you are forgetting me. I am perfectly capable of keeping watch over him.”

Gwendolyn raised her eyebrow. “You two hate each other.”

“Can you blame us? He is a captive. It is his duty to hate us, as it is ours to fuel that hatred. Once he sees he is not truly the captive here, then I will be polite. Until then, I see no reason.”

“I ‘ave a better idea,” the old man, Jal, said. “Aizel wants to prove ‘imself, let ‘im. ‘e and ‘awk can share a room.”

“That does make me feel much better…” Gwendolyn murmured. “Losing either of you could destroy us.”

Hawk looked uncomfortable, but he gave a nod. Aizel seemed pleased, while Torian was wrenching his hands. He and Aizel must have been very close.

“Is it settled, then?” Aizel asked. He did seem eager to prove himself, as Jal had said. If Gwendolyn really was his mother, it was probably hard to live up to the standards she had set. Apparently she was the new captain, and she was fierce and powerful. Aizel was timid and shy sometimes, only coming out of his shell when speaking to his mother or Torian. They hardly seemed to be related at all.

“It seems so,” Gwendolyn said. “How soon can the two of you move into a room together?”

Hawk looked over to Aizel. “Would you like to keep your own room or move into mine?”

Aizel hardly even thought about it. “Let’s move to yours. Then Torian can keep his bed.”

Torian, who still didn’t look too sure about sending Aizel to the lions, said, “I’ll help you move your things.”

The four men, including Jal, for no apparent reason, left; it was only Kavo and Gwendolyn sitting there.

“Why did you kill him?” Gwendolyn asked eventually.

“What do you mean, why? There was no reason for me not to, except escaping punishment. He was an asshole, he tried to rape me, he was commanding the ship that had captured me… not to mention he’d apparently made advances on at least Hawk, so he was a dick to everyone and not just to me.”

“Don’t pretend that our well-being matters to you,” she said harshly. “Don’t you think we were aware of all that? He was alive for a reason. Asshole or not, he was a good fucking captain, and he was the reason that we were all alive.”

“So you’re saying Hawk owed him sex?”

“I’m saying nothing of the sort— you’re putting words in my mouth. I know that Hawk, more than anyone except Aizel, owed Ryk his life. It was up to him to determine how to repay his debt, and he simply did not choose Ryk’s preferred way. That has nothing to do with everything else.”

“I think it has everything to do with everything else! Taking that sort of thing lightly… I can’t even begin to wonder at how I was the first one to kill him.”

“The rest of us appreciated him,” she ground out, “Even Hawk. You have no place here. You don’t understand what he had done for the rest of us.”

“No, I don’t, and I’m glad I don’t. Apparently it has muddled your definitions of right and wrong. Here’s a hint: rape is wrong.”

Gwendolyn tossed her head to the side. “You were the only person he ever took to his room. Raping wasn’t his usual style.”

“I wasn’t about to be his first victim. If you all are fucking retarded enough to let him get away with things like that, it’s your own problem. I, on the other hand, have a little bit of dignity left!”

“Where?” Gwendolyn shouted suddenly. “You’re still sitting there on the fucking floor, covered in his blood! You threw him out the fucking window to get away! In what land does any of that show that you’re dignified?” She turned, chest heaving. After a moment she said, “I hope you fucking rot.” Then she swept out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Kavo had to admit she wasn’t entirely wrong, too. He hadn’t wanted to lose his dignity, so he’d killed a man. It wasn’t the first man he’d killed, but it was by far the most personal. It was also the only one whose friends he’d had to stare in the faces afterward; it was the only one where he’d had to see the people his murder had affected.

And then what after? What was it all for? He had planned on hiding like a rat. Where was the dignity in that? He tried to reason that he’d simply panicked, but while that was true, he couldn’t lie that he hadn’t truly wanted Ryk dead. He had enjoyed killing him, but now… he was beginning to wonder if the after-effects were worth it. He was still a captive. All he’d managed to relieve himself of was unwanted advances.

Kavo hadn’t ever wondered what a life was worth before. It was an odd sensation. Why did it matter to him how things affected the pirates? They were pirates.

He was sure Stockholm Syndrome was kicking in at this point. It would have been nice if it were working the other way— if the villains were beginning to identify with his needs— but that did not seem to be the case.

Again, though, he had to admit that they had always been reasonable and justified in their actions, aside from Ryk’s taste for sexual harassment. They hadn’t even tortured him or really punished him for his crime. Maybe they already had been noticing his needs. It was hard to think he was the unreasonable one. Was he?

Kavo wasn’t sure anymore.

Empyrian Post 8

2010-11-14T10:21:00.003-05:00

The Incredibly Short Chapter Who Even Knows Anymore?: Aizel and Torian Part 1

Kavo tiptoed out of Hawk’s bedroom. He had drunk far too much, and it was coming back to haunt him in the form of a very pressing bladder room shortage. It was hard to extract himself from Hawk’s arms, knowing that it would wake Hawk and he wouldn’t get back to sleep, but he simply hadn’t been able to wait longer.

On his way to the bathroom, he heard hushed voices. He considered making himself known, but hearing who it was, he paused. He could hear Aizel and Torian speaking, and considering how forcibly quiet their voices were, Kavo wasn’t sure that this was something he should leave alone; he was a little afraid of discovering a thousand crickets in his bed the following morning.

Kavo peered out from behind some cargo boxes (stolen, of course) to see what seemed to be the two arguing over something covertly.

“Aizel, you know we can’t—”

“Of course I know we’re not supposed to, but—”

“There are no buts! Aizel, I am not gonna risk this because of your… well, because of your ridiculous, romantic notions of familial bonds!”

“Torian, I’m sick of sneaking around like this. Mum needs to know; she’s going to find out, and then we’re going to be even worse off, and I don’t want to lose you…”
Kavo watched as Torian’s hands wound themselves into Aizel’s hair. “I know. Just a little while longer, and then I promise you I’ll take you away, and no one can stop me.”

Aizel seemed to close his eyes as he leaned his forehead against Torian’s chest. “You promise?”

“Of course I do.”

As the two shared a kiss, Kavo decided it was definitely his time to stop intruding on this apparently intimate moment. He would share the details with Hawk when he returned to bed, but he would keep silent to Gwendolyn. If the two wanted to have an illicit affair, he wouldn’t be the one to ruin it. After all, who knew how long it had been going on?

Besides, Aizel would be eighteen soon, and he could make his own choices. Torian wasn’t old enough for Kavo to oppose it altogether; the age difference between he and Hawk was almost as big, and their relationship had flourished. It would be hard to condemn the relationship between Aizel and Torian for that gap when he had Hawk waiting in bed for him.

Casting one last look to Aizel and Torian, who were now parting reluctantly, Kavo quickly moved to the bathrooms. After finishing his business, he traipsed back to his room. Aizel and Torian had disappeared by now, so he slipped in to his room. Hawk was awake and lying expectantly in bed.

“Sorry,” Kavo said, “I hadn’t wanted to wake you up, but…”

“It’s fine,” Hawk murmured sleepily. “Come back to bed.”

Kavo smiled at the rare use of a contraction; when Hawk was tired, he was adorable. “Of course, Chay.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“I love you,” he said by way of apology, climbing into the bed. “Guess what I found out.”

“On your recent nighttime adventure?” Kavo nodded. “I have not the faintest idea.”

“Aizel and Torian are seeing each other.”

“Mm.” Hawk closed his eyes. “I am aware. They look at each other the way you used to look at me.”

“Did I pine?”

Hawk nodded. “You were the worst. Longing stares, inattentiveness… I think at one point Gwendolyn wanted to put us in a locked room together until we figured things out.”

Kavo kissed him gently. “But you’re happier now.”

“I am, or should I say, I was, until you woke me,” Hawk teased.

“I’m sorry, babe.”

“I know you did not do it purposefully,” Hawk said. “I will fall asleep again soon.”

“You sure?”

“What would change if I said no?”

“Not much,” Kavo admitted. “C’mere. I want to hold you.”

“Sap,” Hawk muttered. Even so, he shifted closer and seemed content to have Kavo’s arms wrapped around him. It was hard for Kavo to be unhappy, as well; he couldn’t help but smile softly whenever he held that beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, very naked man in his arms. Lulled to sleep by Kavo’s embrace, Hawk managed to mumble a declaration of love before he fell back to sleep.

Kavo kissed his messy but no less silky hair before burying his face in Hawk’s shoulder. No matter how much they had argued or hated each other in the past, that was behind them now, and Kavo knew that nothing could ever be better than holding his lover every night as if for the first time.