I could see in the small acts that gave away his nervousness that I had hit it dead on. I flashed a calm and collected smile, "I've sold those of your likes." I responded, but I was going to retire soon. Payment gets worse everyday, and I sighed. I butted my cigarette and turned to do a quick surveillance of the pub, my jailer was nowhere to be seen. When I looked back at Alphonse I could feel myself wind tighter, a delayed reaction of my self-defense actions. With a sigh I pushed the feelings down and grabbed for the small device in my pocket and turned it on while placing it at my ear. Just a simple motion, as though scratching my ear whie I placed the phone-like device there. It amused me but I couldn't stand my job anymore, even though being wanted I was said to be tired and washed-out. There was something new heard everyday. I rose for a moment, reaching into my jacket pocket to snatch something large from it, a book. I sat back down and turned to him, "I have to know every possibility of whom I might encounter when I'm looking for the Trade." I told him, placing the book before him. "It's a list of all the possibilities, both creatures and human-psychics." I flashed a worn smile.
To fly away on gossamer wings, sheer as night's reflective glow, I would could I cradle child hecate to my breast.
I looked down at the book now resting on the table between us. "Those of my likes, you say...?" I repeated more to myself as I gazed down. Did he really have any clue? Were there others that shared my curse? And what did he mean by "creatures and human-psychics?" The creature part especially. Dwelling on his words, I had this sinking feeling in my stomach that Zeal wasn't your run-of-the-mill criminal. I couldn't begin to fathom the world he seemed to reference, my own view limited to my humble apartment, my classes, Felicity's eyes...I shook my head lightly. No. He couldn't possibly know what I've experienced, and certainly no other human being was unfortunate enough to share my fate. I grinned humorlessly then raised my eyes back up to Zeal's dark smile. "You don't know what you're talking about," I stated. The smile instantly dissolved, and his eyes hardened as a brow lifted incredulously. "Really?" "Yes, really," I hummed. I tapped off the ashes of my cigarette again, the rod shrinking swiftly to complete use. I don't know what you mean by creatures or psychics or whatever the hell you're involved with, but I do know that despite what you may think I'm capable of doing, I'm not another strange encounter. I'm just a man, just a student worried about the war like everyone else, worried about my future, worried about making sure my girlfriend is happy...I'm nothing extraordinary. I'm a bastard son, and for all intents and purposes, an orphan. No connections, no huge aspirations, no ulterior motives, so if you're looking for intriguing company, a person to suck into your little fantasy land, I invite you to look elsewhere. I'm not a damned unicorn." After my monologue, Zeal remained quiet, appraising. I sighed, and since I was already being uproariously rude, I said, "And why did you come over here anyways?"
"I can have oodles of charm when I want to." --Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
I looked at him in my silence, before nodding in resignation and raising my hands in surrender as I shrugged. "Perhaps your right," I told him quietly, looking away at my hands before meeting his gaze again. "I may as well be a delusional old fool who believes in myths and old tales told by shizephreniacs but It's never guided my hand the wrong way." Despite everything I didn't really want to argue further but he had pressed against my throat, metaphorically of course, and I was going to remove the boot whether by hacking off the foot or by lifting some of the pressure. "If I had been wrong, and there were no werewolves then I would be dead," I tugged away the collar of my shirt and showed the jagged scars that crisscrossed my throat, always throbbing in time with my heartbeat. "But If that doesn't convince you, I'll tell you right now: If you look at my card, the card that foretells my days or seconds until my death, it must be rather strange. Flickering from one number to the next, going up then down never quite making sense. Am I right?" I didn't wait for an answer, "Of course it could have something to do with my job, but I reckon it's more because I've bargained with the devil." he answered and then in answer to Alphonse's last few statements he let out a snort, "Of course your no unicorn, they don't exist. And as for why I came over here, I thought that atleast a normal - or supposedly normal - human being would be of use as a friend." I smiled bitterly, "It seems I was wrong, once again." and I rose from my seat, taking my duster and reaching over for the book while Alphonse watched me. I had been wrong, considering the first I've talked to seemed to be polite at first and then becomes a raging fool once I tell him what he is. I sighed, tossing the cigarette - quite short - into the ash tray on the table and turning to take my leave.
To fly away on gossamer wings, sheer as night's reflective glow, I would could I cradle child hecate to my breast.
As Zeal rose to take his leave, tossing his cigarette into the ash tray and gathering his things, I felt a strange nagging sensation at the back of my skull. "Wait!" I called out, realizing too late what I had said. He paused in his leave, looked over his shoulder with a raised brow. I sat stupidly for a moment, gaze locked with the mysterious stranger. Slowly my eyes drifted up to the cards over his head, and though I could feel his eyes watching me carefully, probably noting the path of my vision, I didnt really care. Taking a short drag on my cigarette I muttered to Zeal, "Approximately two years as of now." I could feel him staring at me, but I didn't look back up until I heard him begin his retreat again...
"I can have oodles of charm when I want to." --Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
(You are a really good writer, AlphaBunny . I envy your skills. x])
"Approximately two years as of now." the man's words echoed in my thoughts and I wondered if Adika had in fact been wrong about my lifespan. She never had before but perhaps she was now, it didn't really matter. I'd known I would die soon enough, and I honestly wasn't afraid. What was there to be afraid of? I'd already met the devil once, no shame in meeting him again. My heavy boots clacked against the floorboards as I made my way to the bar, I wasn't quite leaving yet. That would mean the boy had won but he hadn't. No one scares Victore Roendell Zeal away, because if they do - it means they are definitely something far worse than the devil himself. Which, I reckon, is impossible.
- Fai - Minuit sans musique
I entered the pub, shyly at first, but soon I gradually became accustumed to the loud cacaphony of voices that made my head hurt. I shouldn't be here, considering I'm underage, but who cares? Aunt Geraledeen never seems to do much other than smoke and watch the news and shouting at the new anchor man who "didn't know what he was talking about". I tiptoed towards the bar, and one look at the bartender told me that I'd better put a game face on or I wasn't getting anything worth drinking tonight. "Martini, stirred." I ordered, placing my hand on the bar's cool countertop. "Mhmm. You old 'nough girl?" he asked gruffly and I looked him in the eyes, my own narrowed and an eyebrow raised. "If I wasn't would I still be here?" I asked quietly, before turning away as he shrugged and grabbed the items to make a martini. I wasn't quite sure but I was nearly positive that I'd seen one of the men near the bar before, his name was ... Roendell something. Something Roendell. I shook my head, why should I care if I knew him? Wasn't like he could kick me out and get me grounded by my uncaring aunt. I shifted in my seat, taking surveillance of my surroundings.
To fly away on gossamer wings, sheer as night's reflective glow, I would could I cradle child hecate to my breast.
I grimaced at the beer infront of me and then took a swig anyway. Disgusting stuff, but it did the job. When I felt someone's eyes on me I froze completely. Using my peripherials I could see it was only a young girl. Too young to be in this drinking, obviously, but not so young that I could let my gaurd down. What was the bartender mixing for her? I doubt it's a Shirley Temple. Just as I was about to speak up about enabling a minor . . .
I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself. David Herbert Lawrence
Ugh. I really need a drink. Shaking my head, I tugged on the strap of my leather bra, trying to give somesense of modesty. Giving up, I opened the doors and nearly choked on the smoke that perfumed the air. Grimacing, I walked to the bar and sat down. This was going to be a long night, I thought, pulling mywaist lenth blonde hair into a high ponytail. In the process, I noticed a group guys staring at my exposed skin and shot them a glare.
I quietly enter the pub, immediately inhaling smoke. Making an effort not to cough, I mosy on over to a table in the far back corner, and plop down. I don't really care whether the waitress sees me or not. Whether I order or whether I go hungry is up to her sharp eye. Glancing around, I see the many people, talking, drinking, and laughing. I grin, at a few of them, and others I frown at. Again, I had to grin. I'm such a people-stalker.
I wal into the pub lookin around. I sit down at the bar, "whiskey" I asked for as I threw gold on the bar. "too young." the bartender said. I pointed to my boot. I grabbed a knife and gun out of it. "don't argue." I said. He nodded and winked.
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
