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04-02-2015, 11:18 PM
I'LL BE YOUR NUMBER ONE WITH A BULLET
a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
The last of his tears and snot had dried, the terror of being lost now nearly forgotten. Zèklè nodded seriously, as though magic were something he understood, as though his affirmation of her statement would hold any weight in the grand scheme of things. Maybe it would. After all, they were merely two children, companions and compatriots, equals in the eyes of time and the world (or so the boy mistakenly believed). To each other they were grown-ups, and the boy loved it, loved that he could speak to her and not feel less than, not feel judged.
So when she began to talk about fire and blood and dead he steeled himself, clenching the uncertainty which rose in his belly at the thought of such depressing subjects. He had seen death, too, and blood- but what did that have to do with spirits? Carefully he listened, young brain working to make sense of the words, to understand her point and keep up with her. Bodies bleed. People die. Even the lumbering creatures she created were sacrificed to prove her point, much to Zèklè's dismay. Gosh, she was being such a downer, but she didn't even seem to realize it, didn't seem mean or like she was trying to scare him (she couldn't anyway, duh). She seemed to be talking to him, for real, and maybe that scared him more than anything else.
"Then whaddabout magic?" he asked her seriously, orange eyes wide in a youthful face. He had not given up on spirits, because even though what she said made sense it left out so much, abandoned a portion of the entire world. "I can't see or touch it but I know it's there. Spirits are like that, I think."
He nodded, rallying, fire re-emerging in the still-high voice, tail feathers spreading as his confidence returned. "'Sides, that's just our rules. Spirits are like Gods, and they gots different rules, and are made of magic, so of course they don't work like us. Ma says-" and he stops here, thoughtful. Yeah, Ma said it, but it's not like he can hide behind "Ma says" forever. This girl is full of all her own thoughts, never once has she talked about what her Ma said... and the boy recants, corrects, continues. "I think we're just a little part of the whole entire world, an' there's a whole lot more we don't even know, 'cus after all there's the whole entire ocean, and prob'ly spirits have their own world and it's just a little bit ours but mostly theirs. Maybe some spirits don't believe in us."
This was far more abstract than the boy usually got, but he was proud of his statement (his statement, not Ma's, and Ma would probably be proud too he hoped). Whether the spirit world was part of their dimension or an entirely other one was far outside his realm of reason or understanding. He was only a child, after all.
But so was she.
For all his tales and ideals, he was glad to be off the subject of spirits, though now he was onto entirely new terrain. Zèklè's Ma was his entire world, his safety, his courage, his best friend and strongest supporter. The fire of adoration which swelled within his breast at the thought of his Ma was... well, it seemed entirely absent in his newfound friend. The way she spoke of her Ma, like she was a stranger, filled the boy with a profound, confusing sense of sorrow. How awful, not to have that, that bond with a Ma that was better and brighter and stronger than anything else in the world.
Yet she didn't seem sad, and as she professed her difficulty with relationships the significance of it went through his ears, past his head. "I like you!" he declared brightly, trying to clear the sorrow which collected uncomfortably in his eyes. He couldn't for the life of him tell why she would have a problem making friends- she seemed great, if a little bit odd, to him.
He continued to listen, continued to think. The girl (what would he call her, if she didn't have a name?) was so incredibly different than anyone he had ever met, and it made him both happy and sad, made him feel respected and amazed. She could make monsters out of earth and talk about death, didn't have a name but seemed to know who she was all the more for it. In all his vast experience so far he hadn't seen anyone even close to being like her.
He smiled, and frowned, and listened and learned. There was a lot of new things in what she said, but he was determined to catch up. For a moment the only thing he could thing of to say was, "Why K?" because his brain couldn't even figure out any other questions, and that seemed interesting and normal enough. No name- she'd rejected the one given to her by Ma? He'd never heard of that, but it turned out he'd never herd of an awful lot of things, and so why not? Names were important, but weren't they more important to other people, the people who used them? The boy didn't think of himself as Zèklè, not in his head, but then what did he think of himself as?
Finally he nodded, sunbeam eyes falling into hers. "I guess I kinda 'stand," he said slowly, though really he wasn't sure he did. "But not really. I like the name my Ma gave me, 'cus it means lightning, and I gots lightning on me." He twisted, not without a little vanity, trying to offer the girl the best view of his shock-of-blue back, spreading the small, lonely wing for maximum effect.
Withdrawing his wing, he continued, young tongue struggling to find adult words. "But I guess... if I didn't feel like Zèklè was 'sposed to be my name, I'd hafta find a new one. And some'uv my friends call me Zero, which is ok. But I guess if you wanna choose your own name that's cool, too, 'cus it makes you happy..." He trailed off, suddenly abashed, painfully unaware of how to proceed.
Then a though struck him, and with an almost palpable jolt the boy sprung back to enthused life.
"Hey! Maybe I can help you find it! 'Cus we're friends 'n all, 'n then I won't hafta just call you spirit in my head all the time."
A grin, buoyant, boyish. He didn't think to question that they were friends. Nobody had a conversation like that, he reasoned, and then weren't friends at the end.
"'N maybe you can help me fig'r out my magic," he added, a hopeful afterthought, because after all- the girl was obviously really smart.
@[Isopia]
So when she began to talk about fire and blood and dead he steeled himself, clenching the uncertainty which rose in his belly at the thought of such depressing subjects. He had seen death, too, and blood- but what did that have to do with spirits? Carefully he listened, young brain working to make sense of the words, to understand her point and keep up with her. Bodies bleed. People die. Even the lumbering creatures she created were sacrificed to prove her point, much to Zèklè's dismay. Gosh, she was being such a downer, but she didn't even seem to realize it, didn't seem mean or like she was trying to scare him (she couldn't anyway, duh). She seemed to be talking to him, for real, and maybe that scared him more than anything else.
"Then whaddabout magic?" he asked her seriously, orange eyes wide in a youthful face. He had not given up on spirits, because even though what she said made sense it left out so much, abandoned a portion of the entire world. "I can't see or touch it but I know it's there. Spirits are like that, I think."
He nodded, rallying, fire re-emerging in the still-high voice, tail feathers spreading as his confidence returned. "'Sides, that's just our rules. Spirits are like Gods, and they gots different rules, and are made of magic, so of course they don't work like us. Ma says-" and he stops here, thoughtful. Yeah, Ma said it, but it's not like he can hide behind "Ma says" forever. This girl is full of all her own thoughts, never once has she talked about what her Ma said... and the boy recants, corrects, continues. "I think we're just a little part of the whole entire world, an' there's a whole lot more we don't even know, 'cus after all there's the whole entire ocean, and prob'ly spirits have their own world and it's just a little bit ours but mostly theirs. Maybe some spirits don't believe in us."
This was far more abstract than the boy usually got, but he was proud of his statement (his statement, not Ma's, and Ma would probably be proud too he hoped). Whether the spirit world was part of their dimension or an entirely other one was far outside his realm of reason or understanding. He was only a child, after all.
But so was she.
For all his tales and ideals, he was glad to be off the subject of spirits, though now he was onto entirely new terrain. Zèklè's Ma was his entire world, his safety, his courage, his best friend and strongest supporter. The fire of adoration which swelled within his breast at the thought of his Ma was... well, it seemed entirely absent in his newfound friend. The way she spoke of her Ma, like she was a stranger, filled the boy with a profound, confusing sense of sorrow. How awful, not to have that, that bond with a Ma that was better and brighter and stronger than anything else in the world.
Yet she didn't seem sad, and as she professed her difficulty with relationships the significance of it went through his ears, past his head. "I like you!" he declared brightly, trying to clear the sorrow which collected uncomfortably in his eyes. He couldn't for the life of him tell why she would have a problem making friends- she seemed great, if a little bit odd, to him.
He continued to listen, continued to think. The girl (what would he call her, if she didn't have a name?) was so incredibly different than anyone he had ever met, and it made him both happy and sad, made him feel respected and amazed. She could make monsters out of earth and talk about death, didn't have a name but seemed to know who she was all the more for it. In all his vast experience so far he hadn't seen anyone even close to being like her.
He smiled, and frowned, and listened and learned. There was a lot of new things in what she said, but he was determined to catch up. For a moment the only thing he could thing of to say was, "Why K?" because his brain couldn't even figure out any other questions, and that seemed interesting and normal enough. No name- she'd rejected the one given to her by Ma? He'd never heard of that, but it turned out he'd never herd of an awful lot of things, and so why not? Names were important, but weren't they more important to other people, the people who used them? The boy didn't think of himself as Zèklè, not in his head, but then what did he think of himself as?
Finally he nodded, sunbeam eyes falling into hers. "I guess I kinda 'stand," he said slowly, though really he wasn't sure he did. "But not really. I like the name my Ma gave me, 'cus it means lightning, and I gots lightning on me." He twisted, not without a little vanity, trying to offer the girl the best view of his shock-of-blue back, spreading the small, lonely wing for maximum effect.
Withdrawing his wing, he continued, young tongue struggling to find adult words. "But I guess... if I didn't feel like Zèklè was 'sposed to be my name, I'd hafta find a new one. And some'uv my friends call me Zero, which is ok. But I guess if you wanna choose your own name that's cool, too, 'cus it makes you happy..." He trailed off, suddenly abashed, painfully unaware of how to proceed.
Then a though struck him, and with an almost palpable jolt the boy sprung back to enthused life.
"Hey! Maybe I can help you find it! 'Cus we're friends 'n all, 'n then I won't hafta just call you spirit in my head all the time."
A grin, buoyant, boyish. He didn't think to question that they were friends. Nobody had a conversation like that, he reasoned, and then weren't friends at the end.
"'N maybe you can help me fig'r out my magic," he added, a hopeful afterthought, because after all- the girl was obviously really smart.
@[Isopia]
Z è K L è
am i more than you bargained for yet?
am i more than you bargained for yet?
