Multi-purpose post.
Sorry to say, college is draining the crap out of me. But I have gotten the next chapter of One for the Money started and have written about... Well, a little less than 1/4 away from my chapter minimum. But I have a feeling that this chapter is going to be longer than usual. So, bear with me, and as reward:
Where was that damned redhead anyway? Probably asleep. Or not even there. Roxas wasn’t sure. He forced himself to stand up and walk out the doorway, into the hallway and down the hallway as far as he could.
Somewhere between his door and that point, his toes collided with the solid frame of a table-stand and he cried out.
“God damn it!” He yelled as he hunched over, elbows resting on the table, lest he fall over. His foot felt numb and warm. He knew that he’d hurt himself, yet again, and he growled.
Roxas was frustrated. He hated pain, and the God he heard about on Sundays was a cruel bastard for inventing it. “God damn it…” He grabbed the table and flung it against the wall. Something crashed and broke and a light switched on.
I'm actually thinking of starting to post the story here. Sure, there would be a lot of spam as I would start from chapter one, but, well, you know. Any thoughts?
The only reason I hesitate is because I don't want to drain from my FFN reviews. I'm a little bit vain, and as stories get longer, more readers try to judge the stories by the amount of reviews that long story has. I want to continue to get new readers.[/vain]
At the same time, it also kills me how many popular stories... suck.
Anyway, here is... I supposed I shall call it Act One.
Title: And the bells, they toll
Pairings: None
Rating: T, to be safe.
Summary: Axel and Roxas are sent on a mission. Roxas is forced to face the facts: being the golden boy isn't golden.
Act one of three.
They arrive in the night, all the way from the World that Never Was. They both wear hoods, and the people are too afraid to do anything, fearing they might be angels from God. The taller one laughs and scares the children, and the shorter one stands motionless.
They both have their hoods up, so no one can see their faces. But they can see the faint traces of blonde hair from the shorter one.
They walk through the small village, their eyes seemingly set on Paris. The simple villagers run, too frightened and ignorant to raise a pitchfork just yet. They fear breaking the law, and that the two may be there to search for gypsies. Little do they know how smart their decision really is.
Even the horses are frightened of the two hooded figures; each dressed completely in black and silent as death. Murmurs ripple of the grim reaper and mothers clutch their children close to their bosoms. “Hush, child.”
They march together, a two man funeral procession. They reach the outermost stretches of the village. The tall one reaches suddenly, grabbing an unsuspecting farm hand. The boy struggles and begs for mercy. “Please, mon ami,” he breathes.
The hooded figure shrugs, his companion folds his arms quietly. “Who is in charge of the vicinity?” the man demands of the boy.
“F-Frollo,” the boy states and finds himself thrown into the ground.
“Let’s go, Roxas.”
And with that, they both vanish from the eyes of the villagers. They leave behind traces of black mist, and the old grandmothers sob. “It’s an omen,” they moan.
The taller one guides his shorter companion, Roxas. They appear in the towers of the cathedral and remove their hoods. The area around them is dusty and only just kept. Traces of bird droppings, old leaves, and the tattered remains of table cloths can be seen everywhere.
The bells don’t shine, wear and tear apparent. His companion’s red hair is merely a smudge of a reflection on the surfaces of the bell.
“What’s the plan, Axel?” Roxas demands. His voice is rough with the impatience of being young and easily excited, or as excited as a nobody can be.
Axel glances around the fancy attic of the cathedral, with its arched wood and the bits of hay strewn around on the ground. The leaves from who knows how many autumns cover the statues. Roxas frowns at Axel’s uncharacteristic silence. Axel is planning, and Roxas wants to know what.
This is his first time away from The World That Never Was. He doesn’t know what to expect, and Axel knows this. Axel looks at him and studies, though Roxas doesn’t know what he’s studying. Axel isn’t quite sure what he’s studying either. He just knows he needs somewhere for Roxas to stay.
Somewhere safe and out of the way. Technically, no such place existed, but for now this would do.
“The plan,” he begins, “is to find a good… mode of transportation.”
Roxas knows he isn’t talking about a car or a train, or even a horse. “There are a lot of people.” His voice is flat. Axel can hear a rise, just barely, in pitch.
Roxas doubts him.
“I know. That’s why you need to stay here.”
Roxas’s eyebrows raise, and his eyes are decidedly sharper than they were five seconds ago. “What?” He doesn’t understand Axel’s goal. Wouldn’t it be better if they both were working together, even if he didn’t know what the hell he was doing?
Axel doesn’t care. “You’ll get in the way. Stay here.” Roxas frowns and Axel turns away, just the slightest bit unnerved by the blond’s intense stare. “I’ll get you when I need you.”
“And when will that be?” Roxas demands, his voice raises in volume. He’s pissed, and he thinks Axel is shifting him out of the mission. For a nobody, Roxas is easy to read. He hasn’t been corrupted by the talk of no hearts, not quite yet. He wears his thoughts on his sleeves.
“When it’s time to kill heartless,” Axel says and vanishes.
The silent watcher sees the blonde destroy a statue. Roxas swings a key, the largest this watcher has ever seen, and takes off a statue’s head. But he’s only a boy and the key clatters to the floor, and he clutches his hand protectively.
-Raina
Where was that damned redhead anyway? Probably asleep. Or not even there. Roxas wasn’t sure. He forced himself to stand up and walk out the doorway, into the hallway and down the hallway as far as he could.
Somewhere between his door and that point, his toes collided with the solid frame of a table-stand and he cried out.
“God damn it!” He yelled as he hunched over, elbows resting on the table, lest he fall over. His foot felt numb and warm. He knew that he’d hurt himself, yet again, and he growled.
Roxas was frustrated. He hated pain, and the God he heard about on Sundays was a cruel bastard for inventing it. “God damn it…” He grabbed the table and flung it against the wall. Something crashed and broke and a light switched on.
I'm actually thinking of starting to post the story here. Sure, there would be a lot of spam as I would start from chapter one, but, well, you know. Any thoughts?
The only reason I hesitate is because I don't want to drain from my FFN reviews. I'm a little bit vain, and as stories get longer, more readers try to judge the stories by the amount of reviews that long story has. I want to continue to get new readers.[/vain]
At the same time, it also kills me how many popular stories... suck.
Anyway, here is... I supposed I shall call it Act One.
Title: And the bells, they toll
Pairings: None
Rating: T, to be safe.
Summary: Axel and Roxas are sent on a mission. Roxas is forced to face the facts: being the golden boy isn't golden.
Act one of three.
They arrive in the night, all the way from the World that Never Was. They both wear hoods, and the people are too afraid to do anything, fearing they might be angels from God. The taller one laughs and scares the children, and the shorter one stands motionless.
They both have their hoods up, so no one can see their faces. But they can see the faint traces of blonde hair from the shorter one.
They walk through the small village, their eyes seemingly set on Paris. The simple villagers run, too frightened and ignorant to raise a pitchfork just yet. They fear breaking the law, and that the two may be there to search for gypsies. Little do they know how smart their decision really is.
Even the horses are frightened of the two hooded figures; each dressed completely in black and silent as death. Murmurs ripple of the grim reaper and mothers clutch their children close to their bosoms. “Hush, child.”
They march together, a two man funeral procession. They reach the outermost stretches of the village. The tall one reaches suddenly, grabbing an unsuspecting farm hand. The boy struggles and begs for mercy. “Please, mon ami,” he breathes.
The hooded figure shrugs, his companion folds his arms quietly. “Who is in charge of the vicinity?” the man demands of the boy.
“F-Frollo,” the boy states and finds himself thrown into the ground.
“Let’s go, Roxas.”
And with that, they both vanish from the eyes of the villagers. They leave behind traces of black mist, and the old grandmothers sob. “It’s an omen,” they moan.
The taller one guides his shorter companion, Roxas. They appear in the towers of the cathedral and remove their hoods. The area around them is dusty and only just kept. Traces of bird droppings, old leaves, and the tattered remains of table cloths can be seen everywhere.
The bells don’t shine, wear and tear apparent. His companion’s red hair is merely a smudge of a reflection on the surfaces of the bell.
“What’s the plan, Axel?” Roxas demands. His voice is rough with the impatience of being young and easily excited, or as excited as a nobody can be.
Axel glances around the fancy attic of the cathedral, with its arched wood and the bits of hay strewn around on the ground. The leaves from who knows how many autumns cover the statues. Roxas frowns at Axel’s uncharacteristic silence. Axel is planning, and Roxas wants to know what.
This is his first time away from The World That Never Was. He doesn’t know what to expect, and Axel knows this. Axel looks at him and studies, though Roxas doesn’t know what he’s studying. Axel isn’t quite sure what he’s studying either. He just knows he needs somewhere for Roxas to stay.
Somewhere safe and out of the way. Technically, no such place existed, but for now this would do.
“The plan,” he begins, “is to find a good… mode of transportation.”
Roxas knows he isn’t talking about a car or a train, or even a horse. “There are a lot of people.” His voice is flat. Axel can hear a rise, just barely, in pitch.
Roxas doubts him.
“I know. That’s why you need to stay here.”
Roxas’s eyebrows raise, and his eyes are decidedly sharper than they were five seconds ago. “What?” He doesn’t understand Axel’s goal. Wouldn’t it be better if they both were working together, even if he didn’t know what the hell he was doing?
Axel doesn’t care. “You’ll get in the way. Stay here.” Roxas frowns and Axel turns away, just the slightest bit unnerved by the blond’s intense stare. “I’ll get you when I need you.”
“And when will that be?” Roxas demands, his voice raises in volume. He’s pissed, and he thinks Axel is shifting him out of the mission. For a nobody, Roxas is easy to read. He hasn’t been corrupted by the talk of no hearts, not quite yet. He wears his thoughts on his sleeves.
“When it’s time to kill heartless,” Axel says and vanishes.
The silent watcher sees the blonde destroy a statue. Roxas swings a key, the largest this watcher has ever seen, and takes off a statue’s head. But he’s only a boy and the key clatters to the floor, and he clutches his hand protectively.
-Raina