Second Installment. There, nyaa
Writers, Block. Sucks. Nothing more to say about the muses, let's move onto my day and other things. Hey look Verge, my favorite color! Today I had a ridiculous booty-spanking fight with my beloved twin, Verge. Thanks Verge, you make my day...oh and of course my night. *wink* Not to mention..did you know there are Legos shaped like Phalices?! Good lord, what has this world come to?!! But yes, on another note I finally got to see the ending of Final Fantasy X. (Yes, you must be thinking: "VOODOOMAGE, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!!!") But she-who-must-not-be-named finally got around to it, so yeah.
Anyways, I've got another chapter of the untitled WIP I've been writing. Yeah Boiiiiii...okay, I'll stop.
Untitled (so far)
Chapter: II
Warnings: Worksafe. So forth.
Summary: Vallak had the desire of his entire kin to return home on his back, along with the hatred of the people who tried to change them; so when he met Grey...one of them, he didn't know what to think. But not much thinking can be done when you're on the run back home!
…Somoas, God of all that is light, explain to me what is this sin? Tell me what thorns to stray from, what poisons not to drink. Warn me of the blood-haired succubus that wishes to steal me away from the path of your enlightenment…
The boy’s pale skin was flushed in embarrassment as he lifted his chin up to Vallak jauntily. “And what do you want, blackie?” He asked a quiver still slightly present in his voice.
Vallak crossed his arms over his chest, smiling irritatingly. “Well?” The boy asked, annoyed.
The darker one shook his head, turning to leave, “You have that birthmark just under the eye.” The boy frowned, having to touch the mark on instinct, he then scowled at Vallak, “Everywhere I go, blackies point the damned thing out like a crucifix.”
He smiled at the boy knowingly, but kept his lips sealed. “Why is it that my birthmark is important to your people?!” the boy demanded, trying to grab at Vallak’s collar. He simply danced around him, sliding behind him, playing with his tied blonde locks teasingly. He laughed heartily, as the boy flailed, whipping around.
Holding his hands in mock surrender, he still chuckled. His attempt at pulling back his black hair had failed slightly, and now after all this activity, his locks fell in sliver waves over his eyes. The boy glared at him, opening his mouth before a strange wind picked up around him, making him shiver greatly.
Smiling, Vallak backed out of the alley way, into the dim, faint light of the street. The streetlamps were already burning out, but this wind that had started whirling around their feet, then trickled through their hair had twirled and curled up their poles, slid into their lanterns and blew out their flames. With a dark look at the boy from kohl-lined eyes, he said this “Feel that wind, boy? Those are the winds of destiny, she’s laughing down on us, pushing us forward. That mark is the kiss of Lady Fate; you’re to do something big!” He threw his arms up in excitement; he’d never seen a white-skin with that mark before, let alone one of his people.
“I-I don’t understand.” The boy held out his hand to make him wait, but he disappeared into the darkness, only his words came out to greet him, “If we meet again, you’ll know.”
“Know what?!” he called out desperately.
This time he was greeted by silence. He huffed indignantly and made his way to his townhouse, he’d get a scolding from mother if he didn’t run home. Running past the blurred houses and closed shops on the way, he only tumbled twice over uneven cobblestone, boots clacking loudly as he ran down the hill. His mind was in a whirl about the boy his age he’d met in the bath house’s alley. The blackie. He shivered at the remembrance of the boy’s bright, clever eyes despite the darkness of the night. And his words…he snorted, more like riddles! They made no sense. Some drivel about destiny and fate, and another story to add to the dozens he’d heard about his mark from other blackies. Drivel, it was just drivel from overly-zealous spirituals he told himself as he rounded the corner on a familiar street.
Stealing across the front lawn and around the side, Vallak climbed up the creaking trellis of trailing Morning Glories. He sighed heavily as he heaved himself over to the roofing. He reached for the jutting gutter but heard a snap below him. He bit back a yelp as his foot lost its holding, and pitched him down. He grabbed the gutter just in time before he was dumped back onto the lawn. Nails dug painfully into black roofing tile as he scrambled up onto the roof, and then to his window. He let out a sigh of relief as his window slid open easily, and was halfway through before another problem hit him.
Footsteps sounded by his door, faint but his impeccable hearing acquired from sneaking around as such picked it up. The doorknob turned slowly as he scrambled in, scratching the soles of his feet on the rough surface of the roofing. He fell into his room at the foot of his window in an unceremonious bunch as the door opened. His breath caught in fear, now they would lock the windows even tighter!
A tanned young girl with skin like his and dark red hair popped her head in the doorway, “Vella, be quiet, they’ll catch you one day!” She hissed, and she closed the door and left it open for him. He never could guess how she was that good at picking locks, even better than him. He couldn’t guess why she-with such a skill like that-had never tried to escape before. He sat against his wall, on the floor and let out a heavy breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Stop you thief! Hey! Stop him!!!” a street vender roared down the street, unfortunately, his pudgy body could not carry him very far.
Men on the city’s street corner picked up their heads from their low conversations, and yelled, chasing after the copper-skinned boy who was practically flying down the street with a large green apple. The apple glimmered in blurred contrast to the dark, grimy hands of the boy, and against the cloudy autumn morning.
Vallak looked back for a moment where the men chased him. He grinned, they were putting up more of a chase than he’d planned; his original scheme when he snuck up under the vender’s wagon and eyed everything out was to just outrun him. He wrinkled his nose at the thought that he’d have to hide this time.
The boy looked back once more before reaching the top of Dutch Hill, a hill that separated downtown from the rich villa and townhouse sector. It was an extremely steep hill, and Vallak never really came down here, on account all the rich white-skins that would look down on him there; middle-class and poor white-skins were bad enough. Kicking off, he almost looked like he was flying, arms flailing wildly as he flew what must have been many feet through the air.
He whooped loudly as the men shouted once, and then turned back; no apple was worth this, no matter how expensive things were getting lately.
Falling down the hill, with the wind whipping at his heels and hair, roaring through his ears, whisking his scarf around and filling up his sleeves--Vallak reflected, this must be how the eagle feels, flying through the sky, dipping in between rocky canyons of his homeland. It felt like eternity, falling, but it must have only been a split second before the ground came up quicker than Vallak would have liked.
He let out a low grunt as his shoulder hit the cold cobblestone pretty hard, and he rolled down the rest of the way as to lessen the damage taken to his body. Vallak looked up nervously, eyes darting around, and scrambled his hurt form through the first open alley door he saw.
He ran straight into a blur of straw yellow and storm grey. Falling back, sprawled on the wooden planks of the floor, Vallak blinked and then a slow smile crawled across his lips. “Didn’t I say we’d meet again?”
Grey eyes blinked again, and narrowed, recognizing the filthy body sprawled across his nice, clean pantry floor. “It’s you!” He pointed at him, voice raising a pitch. He noticed the boy’s panting and the fact he was gripping his shoulder. The boy gave him a look, “What happened to you?”
He then spotted the bright green apple in the lighter skin of his palm and looked down his nose at him. “What did you do, steal that thing?” He snorted and then added an afterthought, “Wouldn’t surprise me, you blackies would steal anything.”
Vallak’s eyebrow quirked up from his spot on the floor as he lifted himself up on his elbow; seemingly comfortable lying on the floor of a stranger’s house. “Actually, not quite, boy.” A greasy black strand of hair fell into his eyes, and he blew it up, only to have it flop down in place. He frowned slightly at this, looking at the rebellious strand cross-eyed.
“What in heaven’s name do you mean, and for Vion’s sake, will you stop calling me boy?! I have a name!” The boy shouted at him.
Vallak pulled himself into a crouch, and faster than the boy could catch with his inattentive eyes, he was at his side, clamping a dirty hand over his pale mouth. The boy felt an indignant sure go through him, and then a nauseated one at the thought of the darker one touching him with those grubby hands. He growled angrily into his hand, only to be shushed, and pulled out of the view of the door.
“Shhh!” Vallak hissed at the loud-mouthed boy. “They’ll catch me!” He stated quickly into his ear, pressing them both tightly to wall, as not to be seen. The blonde shivered at the ticklish sensation in his ear and then struggled, managing to rip the hand off his mouth. “I knew you stole that apple!” He hissed back.
“No, I didn’t. The vender just hasn’t seen the money yet.”
“What?!”
“I left the coins on his counter, took the apple and ran away.” He answered simply.
“What kind of dolt does that, couldn’t you just buy it like a normal person would?”
“I’m not a normal person to you white-skins.” His voice was twinged with anger, “He never would have sold the apple to me otherwise.”
Letting go of the boy in disgust, he picked the apple off the floor, getting ready to leave. The blonde looked at him, and turned his back to the blackie, “Oh.” He said, not knowing what to say. He really hate the way they treated Bainirs in this city, in the world. They were treated like lower species, no better than dogs. And then the adults claimed they wanted to help the ‘primitive’ people, give them better opportunities, but all they were doing was making it worse. “You still haven’t told me your name, blackie.” He said.
“You don’t deserve to know it yet. In my culture, names are only given to those who we trust; a person could give a lot away by giving one’s name, you know.” There was a swish of air that tickled the boy’s ankles, and he whipped around to retort, but only found an empty doorway staring back at him.
He shook his head in disbelief, that dark boy was like the breeze itself, he blew in here and there, where ever he liked, and then blew out just as quickly. Never in Kiang had he heard of something like it.
Chapter 2 End
Anyways, I've got another chapter of the untitled WIP I've been writing. Yeah Boiiiiii...okay, I'll stop.
Untitled (so far)
Chapter: II
Warnings: Worksafe. So forth.
Summary: Vallak had the desire of his entire kin to return home on his back, along with the hatred of the people who tried to change them; so when he met Grey...one of them, he didn't know what to think. But not much thinking can be done when you're on the run back home!
…Somoas, God of all that is light, explain to me what is this sin? Tell me what thorns to stray from, what poisons not to drink. Warn me of the blood-haired succubus that wishes to steal me away from the path of your enlightenment…
The boy’s pale skin was flushed in embarrassment as he lifted his chin up to Vallak jauntily. “And what do you want, blackie?” He asked a quiver still slightly present in his voice.
Vallak crossed his arms over his chest, smiling irritatingly. “Well?” The boy asked, annoyed.
The darker one shook his head, turning to leave, “You have that birthmark just under the eye.” The boy frowned, having to touch the mark on instinct, he then scowled at Vallak, “Everywhere I go, blackies point the damned thing out like a crucifix.”
He smiled at the boy knowingly, but kept his lips sealed. “Why is it that my birthmark is important to your people?!” the boy demanded, trying to grab at Vallak’s collar. He simply danced around him, sliding behind him, playing with his tied blonde locks teasingly. He laughed heartily, as the boy flailed, whipping around.
Holding his hands in mock surrender, he still chuckled. His attempt at pulling back his black hair had failed slightly, and now after all this activity, his locks fell in sliver waves over his eyes. The boy glared at him, opening his mouth before a strange wind picked up around him, making him shiver greatly.
Smiling, Vallak backed out of the alley way, into the dim, faint light of the street. The streetlamps were already burning out, but this wind that had started whirling around their feet, then trickled through their hair had twirled and curled up their poles, slid into their lanterns and blew out their flames. With a dark look at the boy from kohl-lined eyes, he said this “Feel that wind, boy? Those are the winds of destiny, she’s laughing down on us, pushing us forward. That mark is the kiss of Lady Fate; you’re to do something big!” He threw his arms up in excitement; he’d never seen a white-skin with that mark before, let alone one of his people.
“I-I don’t understand.” The boy held out his hand to make him wait, but he disappeared into the darkness, only his words came out to greet him, “If we meet again, you’ll know.”
“Know what?!” he called out desperately.
This time he was greeted by silence. He huffed indignantly and made his way to his townhouse, he’d get a scolding from mother if he didn’t run home. Running past the blurred houses and closed shops on the way, he only tumbled twice over uneven cobblestone, boots clacking loudly as he ran down the hill. His mind was in a whirl about the boy his age he’d met in the bath house’s alley. The blackie. He shivered at the remembrance of the boy’s bright, clever eyes despite the darkness of the night. And his words…he snorted, more like riddles! They made no sense. Some drivel about destiny and fate, and another story to add to the dozens he’d heard about his mark from other blackies. Drivel, it was just drivel from overly-zealous spirituals he told himself as he rounded the corner on a familiar street.
Stealing across the front lawn and around the side, Vallak climbed up the creaking trellis of trailing Morning Glories. He sighed heavily as he heaved himself over to the roofing. He reached for the jutting gutter but heard a snap below him. He bit back a yelp as his foot lost its holding, and pitched him down. He grabbed the gutter just in time before he was dumped back onto the lawn. Nails dug painfully into black roofing tile as he scrambled up onto the roof, and then to his window. He let out a sigh of relief as his window slid open easily, and was halfway through before another problem hit him.
Footsteps sounded by his door, faint but his impeccable hearing acquired from sneaking around as such picked it up. The doorknob turned slowly as he scrambled in, scratching the soles of his feet on the rough surface of the roofing. He fell into his room at the foot of his window in an unceremonious bunch as the door opened. His breath caught in fear, now they would lock the windows even tighter!
A tanned young girl with skin like his and dark red hair popped her head in the doorway, “Vella, be quiet, they’ll catch you one day!” She hissed, and she closed the door and left it open for him. He never could guess how she was that good at picking locks, even better than him. He couldn’t guess why she-with such a skill like that-had never tried to escape before. He sat against his wall, on the floor and let out a heavy breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Stop you thief! Hey! Stop him!!!” a street vender roared down the street, unfortunately, his pudgy body could not carry him very far.
Men on the city’s street corner picked up their heads from their low conversations, and yelled, chasing after the copper-skinned boy who was practically flying down the street with a large green apple. The apple glimmered in blurred contrast to the dark, grimy hands of the boy, and against the cloudy autumn morning.
Vallak looked back for a moment where the men chased him. He grinned, they were putting up more of a chase than he’d planned; his original scheme when he snuck up under the vender’s wagon and eyed everything out was to just outrun him. He wrinkled his nose at the thought that he’d have to hide this time.
The boy looked back once more before reaching the top of Dutch Hill, a hill that separated downtown from the rich villa and townhouse sector. It was an extremely steep hill, and Vallak never really came down here, on account all the rich white-skins that would look down on him there; middle-class and poor white-skins were bad enough. Kicking off, he almost looked like he was flying, arms flailing wildly as he flew what must have been many feet through the air.
He whooped loudly as the men shouted once, and then turned back; no apple was worth this, no matter how expensive things were getting lately.
Falling down the hill, with the wind whipping at his heels and hair, roaring through his ears, whisking his scarf around and filling up his sleeves--Vallak reflected, this must be how the eagle feels, flying through the sky, dipping in between rocky canyons of his homeland. It felt like eternity, falling, but it must have only been a split second before the ground came up quicker than Vallak would have liked.
He let out a low grunt as his shoulder hit the cold cobblestone pretty hard, and he rolled down the rest of the way as to lessen the damage taken to his body. Vallak looked up nervously, eyes darting around, and scrambled his hurt form through the first open alley door he saw.
He ran straight into a blur of straw yellow and storm grey. Falling back, sprawled on the wooden planks of the floor, Vallak blinked and then a slow smile crawled across his lips. “Didn’t I say we’d meet again?”
Grey eyes blinked again, and narrowed, recognizing the filthy body sprawled across his nice, clean pantry floor. “It’s you!” He pointed at him, voice raising a pitch. He noticed the boy’s panting and the fact he was gripping his shoulder. The boy gave him a look, “What happened to you?”
He then spotted the bright green apple in the lighter skin of his palm and looked down his nose at him. “What did you do, steal that thing?” He snorted and then added an afterthought, “Wouldn’t surprise me, you blackies would steal anything.”
Vallak’s eyebrow quirked up from his spot on the floor as he lifted himself up on his elbow; seemingly comfortable lying on the floor of a stranger’s house. “Actually, not quite, boy.” A greasy black strand of hair fell into his eyes, and he blew it up, only to have it flop down in place. He frowned slightly at this, looking at the rebellious strand cross-eyed.
“What in heaven’s name do you mean, and for Vion’s sake, will you stop calling me boy?! I have a name!” The boy shouted at him.
Vallak pulled himself into a crouch, and faster than the boy could catch with his inattentive eyes, he was at his side, clamping a dirty hand over his pale mouth. The boy felt an indignant sure go through him, and then a nauseated one at the thought of the darker one touching him with those grubby hands. He growled angrily into his hand, only to be shushed, and pulled out of the view of the door.
“Shhh!” Vallak hissed at the loud-mouthed boy. “They’ll catch me!” He stated quickly into his ear, pressing them both tightly to wall, as not to be seen. The blonde shivered at the ticklish sensation in his ear and then struggled, managing to rip the hand off his mouth. “I knew you stole that apple!” He hissed back.
“No, I didn’t. The vender just hasn’t seen the money yet.”
“What?!”
“I left the coins on his counter, took the apple and ran away.” He answered simply.
“What kind of dolt does that, couldn’t you just buy it like a normal person would?”
“I’m not a normal person to you white-skins.” His voice was twinged with anger, “He never would have sold the apple to me otherwise.”
Letting go of the boy in disgust, he picked the apple off the floor, getting ready to leave. The blonde looked at him, and turned his back to the blackie, “Oh.” He said, not knowing what to say. He really hate the way they treated Bainirs in this city, in the world. They were treated like lower species, no better than dogs. And then the adults claimed they wanted to help the ‘primitive’ people, give them better opportunities, but all they were doing was making it worse. “You still haven’t told me your name, blackie.” He said.
“You don’t deserve to know it yet. In my culture, names are only given to those who we trust; a person could give a lot away by giving one’s name, you know.” There was a swish of air that tickled the boy’s ankles, and he whipped around to retort, but only found an empty doorway staring back at him.
He shook his head in disbelief, that dark boy was like the breeze itself, he blew in here and there, where ever he liked, and then blew out just as quickly. Never in Kiang had he heard of something like it.
Chapter 2 End