Monday, August 5, 2013
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Leaving completly
This town is a good town, good as in it has money; thus the kids here are spoiled yuppies with money to blow, no one here gives two shits about anyone as long as they have the trendiest bag and the tightest ass. I'm a really down to Earth person, but in a town were people don't have to fight for it, but get everything they want, they have no character. Me and mother would always walk past Build-a-bear workshop and when she said no she'd always say 'tough, it builds character.' Now this finally has some meaning to me so thank you mom for being so honest to my face.
So we've been looking for a new house. That's right. House. But being that we want an excellent school district we might end up in a townhouse apartment. Yahoo~ Disappointment builds character~ However, the aura of yuppieness is the same as Pickerington as in the new town we're looking at. Joyous. But as long as its a good school district, its better than Pickerington.
Friday, July 19, 2013
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Monday, July 8, 2013
Forsaken Saints
Bonjour! This is the epilogue of the story so please enjoy! Also, I'm in need of an editer so if anyone is interested my emails at the bottom.
Also, if you're an author or just a reader, I'm interested in making a blog page with a few other people to promote each of our stories together, write together, write fanfictions and roleplay. It'll be really fun so if you're interested PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE shoot me an email!
GatoRawrLuv@gmail.com
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The pale moon cast an eery glow through the thick inky clouds of an oil painted November sky, dangling like a rosery from a popes neck. The night was thick with silence. The only twinkles of life were the Mosaic stars watching over the slumbering. And yet, a man hurried through the dead streets with two sleeping infants huddled in a wool blanket in his arms. Your eyes as of this chapter of the story? He goes by the classical Russian name Dietrich.
Dietrich ran as fast as his legs would carry him, lungs heaving. He inhaled in sharp, shaky gasps. The crisp cold air made his olive skin numb. Blue marble eyes sneaked down to the two baby girls tuckered in his arms and his gaze automatically softened. One opened her night sky blue eyes, reflecting every star as they glistened. "Cella? Not sleepy anymore?" His eyes shifted to her sister. Her eyes peeled open, warm caramel eyes stared dazedly up and met his, sparking with sweet tenderness. They were twins. However, they were as different as night and day, Sun and moon. From the colour of thier eyes to thier appitite "You're not tired either Vedette?" He paused in the snow slicked street. "Please sleep you two. It will be better if you do I promise." The two blinked and snuggled back into their hiberntion. He let the corners of his lips tug into a smile and returned his attention back to the empty street of the old aging neighborhood. The decaying victorian styled houses all grimaced at him, wishing him be gone. However, he was aware the circumstances at stake if he didn't make heist. Time was inescapable, ticking away lives, quite literally in this sense. The weight in Dietrichs chest was immense, with each frantic step the anchor grew heavier and harsher to preserve. His throat was tightening into a knot like a cobra around its prey, squeezing the life out of him. But the warmth in his arms reminded him his senses and he kept going.
Dietrich was having a rendezvous of a sorts, or what was one but with new information he was heading toward his doom; his spirits doom, and he was unaware but only that the two toddlers he carried were in danger. If he did or didn't make it. The crunching of his boots in the snow slowed and he halted, the old oak by the withered stop sign at the corner, he recognized it. It pointed the way he must turn into the (coldisack) The house loomed in the shadows of clustering scraggly trees, dead from the season. He paused to catch his breath, his own excuse to pause and contemplate turning around and running. Dietrichs voice said in a secure tone. "Almost there, don't worry." to the sleeping infants, but he knew it was to calm his own nerves.
The dwelling was none different than the rest; dark, decaying victorian houses with a narrow chimney, cricked to the right. He held his breath before taking the first few steps up the weathered white patio. It was lit dimly by a single porch light. Dietrich felt the suspenseful feeling of his stomach knotting that you did when the heroine goes up to grandmas porch with a basket of goodies, but the audience knew the story too well, that inside he'd find the once pleasant welcoming feeling was replaced by the greed of another. Nonetheless he'd take that chance. Dietrich huffed out and twisted the doors knob. Locked. Mumbling a few words under his breath he tapped the door knob, paused, and twisted it open with ease. No signs of life. Something he'd expected. Looking into the house was like looking into the remains of a natural disaster, compared to an old photo. He remembered a sun bathed room with a grand piano in the center of the vast room, perfect for entertaining guests. Returning to reality it was a dark empty room painted grey. A dreadful scene, the darkness pulled each, once wanderfully bright room, into a sadistic scene from a sad 1920s grey scale movie. Dietrich sighed. This almost foreshadowed in a metaphorical manner everything. He hated that it was right.
Looking down at the carpet 'welcome home' rug he inwardly scoffed. Hell if he, much less anyone felt welcome here. As a guest, of a sorts, he had to find his hosts. Ready or not here I come. Dietrich strode through the hall in steps light as a cloud, running his finger across the faded wall paper, peeling it. He pulled it off like a bandage without a second thought. Ooops.
Vedette scolded him for waking her, mumbling gibberish and pumping her fists dazedly, his heart jumped into his throat and he cooed to her. "Vedette hussshhhh nae? Must be quiet." He laid his index finger over his lips. The infant shied away, huddling back down and watching patiently. He peered up the steps, perhaps they were in their room? Cleché much? Putting a caseous foot on the steps made him uneasy, the steps whined with every bit of pressure. But Dietrich was a 'guest' here. Regardless of how much noise he didn't make, they'd known he was here before he stepped foot in the neighborhood. Creaking his way up the steps the weight in his chest grew heavier, he was a fly being pulled in by a hungry spider. The anchor pulled him deeper down but Vedette's radiant brown eyes were his only comfort and he watched them stare back until he made it to the top.
'Ok, its just down the hall. But I don't hear any noise. Perhaps...'
Stepping forward toward the room he paused hesitantly, half expecting a booby trap, or his foot to burst into flames. Silence hung in the air like cobwebs. Dietrich swallowed, walking toward the door. Why was every door closed? One more suspenseful noise that would make him feel more off edge. Once at the door he tugged at the door knob and voilà, it opened without any need of 'magic.'
And there they were, smiling calmly at him, lounging in cushioned chairs like they were just waiting patiently for a doctor. He felt his heart throb liquid anxiety through his veins, he wove his fingers around the wool tighter and reminded himself to not show fear.
"Ah, you made it Dietrich. The girl-" Matzia stepped toward him with her arms opened to Cella and Vedette but his eyes pierced colder than ice and she looked toward her husband. His gaze lay on his brother. They looked so alike, pale porcelain skin, inky black locks and sharp blue eyes. The only difference was the fear in Dietrichs eyes and the superior look in his brothers.
"Kendel told me everything. I'll have them in my keep now where is it!?" Their clown makeup smiles smudged into deep frowns. The petite woman sat down in her chair and nodded to her husband.
He stepped toward Dietrich with slow careful steps. His sapphire eyes matched Dietrich's, but compared to his brothers fraught gaze his eyes took on those of a keen snake.
He licked his lips before parting them to speak. "Thank you for bringing them to us Dietrich. But we will be leaving soon so as their, 'uncle' please take care of my children while were gone." He stung the word uncle, his eyes roamed Dietrichs face for a reaction. "Hmmm? I know I'm their uncle? What are you getting at Otis!?" He glanced down to Vedette, she couldn't understand but she stayed silent. "Dietrich I know you've seen it. Look at them!" His low chuckle made Dietrich flinch, echoeing the room. "Only ONE, of the children you hold are my kin. The other is, well their both quite 'unique' aren't they! But being apart of the Violetsia family that's a given so, my advice to you is to look carefully or you might miss something." Dietrichs eyes were wide, a bead of sweat trickled down his brow. The cobra wrapped around his throat pushed every breath out of him. Vedette's eyes shown up to his like the breaking of dawn, he wished he could smile back. He parted his lips to speak but he couldn't form the words. His brother only nodded and went on.
"Oh, and I know they will need it so here. Kindel knows well how to form them. But the choice is yours whether to keep them in the dark or not, you'll be their new guardian right? I'd expect only that from you." Otis tossed Dietrich the syringe, the thick inky red liquid made him cringe, holding a gag. All the while his wife had been drawing hieroglyphs in chalk on the pale wooden floor. It took him by surprise how much his attention had been focussed on his brother he neglected her presence entirely. But as he traced the hieroglyph marks with his eyes he gasped. This hieroglyph. His eyes darted to his brothers as he met his wife in the middle of the circular sketchings. They looked like a wedding cake topper.
The cobra snapped and Dietrich found himself on his knees gasping. "Why put the mark on them if-" He hacked and choked up the rest. "It was my choice?"
His brothers tidal wave eyes pounded through Dietrich, cocky belittlement. But his face shown only a soft, genuine looking smile, thus rendering his emotions unreadable.
"Because I want to see you struggle. I know you won't let them be apart of the Náitèrian if you had something you could do about it. So with their marks you will be reminded of their actual race."
He wanted to scream and hug Otis; find out this was all a joke and the act would be over soon but the cricked smile staring held him from dreaming. His lips parted but he'd lost his voice. In books they say this happens when you're 'beyond words' or 'breathless' but it wasn't at all like that. It was more like the words wanted to come but he was being choked my his own hands.
Pushing a strand of hair out of his eyes he went on with an expression matching his wifes. "For what it's worth Dietrich, I think you'd make a great father to them, nae?" His wife hummed a calm laugh, it lit up like a candle on a rainy day. All darkness ran to its corners and the warmth brought peace to all around her. For that split second he saw Vedette in her. The pleasant happiness in her eyes twinkled like a star in the ocean of the night sky. He hacked down, seeing Vedette and Cella from the corner of his eye watch him. Cellas eyes trickled tears down her pale cheek but Vedette was hushed, watching.
Otis cleared his throat and Dietrich pulled his head back up. "Well, it is certain to say we will meet again Dietrich." He smiled, showing his canines. Before parting his lips to even take a breath Dietrich was at him, dagger in hand he raised it above his head and with a vigorous down pull he'd planted to knife deep into his shoulder, and darted out of the circular hieroglyph. His brother gasped, and stumbled back. Fingers wrapped around the handle and he pulled, jerking it free. He examined the bloody dagger and let it slip through his fingers and hit the ground. Crimson ribbons trailed down his maim and cheek but with an easy stroke he wiped it away, his face shown irritation but no hint of pain or shock.
"That's not a nice departing gi-"
"Stop the cocky sarcastic front Otis it's pissing me off! What are you even gaining by doing this!? Leaving your children to do what!? Tell me you son of a bitch!"
Dietrichs jaw set tightly, blood boiling with frustration But he was desperate to understand.
Matzia nodded to him and he turned his gaze to his brothers. But it looked real, his eyes looked tired and withered, his frown hung limp and he sighed. "I'm not leaving them to you because I want to, but because they need to grow into something I can't give them. Whether its good or bad, things must unfold to their will. Depending on what they become."
Otis stepped forward out of the circle, Dietrich braced himself, but he walked past him, almost ghostly toward Vedette and Cella on the floor. Dietrichs eyes followed his brothers frail frame as he knelt down to the infants. He said a few things to them, taking Cella in his arms she just smiled radiantly and held his sleeve, giggleing when he pecked her fore head. Vedette watched until he put Cella down and picked her up, hugging her into his chest. Dietrich couldn't hear his brother nor see Vedettes face. He felt his jaw fall into a gape, tears raceing down his cheeks. What has his brother become? Why was he doing this? Just as thoughts flowed he snapped back to the sad scene, his brother turned toward him, the cocky mask had slipped back on and he strode past him like nothing happened.
Dietrich's hand flew toward his brothers arm and he held him there. "You didn't answer me. Why?"
Jerking his arm back he didn't turn to make eye contact. But his voice was firm. "We all have secrets." And with that he met his wife once again with his hand pressed to his shoulder and the other to the back of his neck. She greeted him with her perfect smile, turning to Dietrich to spread the rays of happiness.
"Good bye for now." Even with tears in his eyes he scoffed, it was hard not to want to hurt her but he stayed with his feet planted into the floor. Saying the words under his breath the hieroglyph beamed ivy rays through the room, making his eyes sting. The floor boards took on an image, blades of grass sparkling and swaying in the sunlight of a summer day. There in Dijon France it was a harsh winter. In the distance there was a body of water that reflected rays of sun and plump floating clouds. Dietrich felt like a hard rock, numb and cold to the core as he watched the beam disappear in a flash and their bodies turn limp, crashing to he ground. The room returned to its light ridden, brisk state, Dietrich only stared numbly where the shells of their souls lay like dead bodies.
He knew this Arté too well. An Arté of great power that transports the true users as the mirror images, or shells, lay decoy. The chalk circle left no trace. Easy cleanup.
Dietrich let a sigh slip past his lips and he turned to the girls on the floor, their wool blanket lay disheveled and they unharmed. Making his way to them he knelt down, Cellas expression was sorrowful, she watched her fathers 'body' lifeless and let out a shriek as her eyes flushed pink. Vedette met his eyes, pained, her eyes trickled with tears too but she only watched him. His heart ached as he watched them cry for their father, he let the tears take over. The bitter sweet sadness streamed down his face, purging the betrayal he felt through hot tears. Calming himself he pieced his senses back together and double took when his eyes laid upon the syringe. Clenching his teeth Dietrich scooted to it and took it, he knew the girls would need this but he didn't want to be the one to prick them with it. Regardless he pulled up the still crying Cellas shirt, finding her mark immediately. The mark was only as big around as a quarter but with their time ticking almost gone they'd radiated a vibrant red. He took the syringe and pricked her skin, too lightly for her to feel but he winced as he pushed half of the thick red liquid into her side. The mark slowly dimmed out until it was gone. Turning to Vedette he repeated this for her side too. But she whined as she saw it go into her skin.
Dietrich tossed the glassware carelessly to the side and folded the girls into the blanket again and found the will to stand. He didn't feel numb anymore, but now he felt awakened. He knew what he had to do and felt he had no time to waist. He had to raise them in the holyest place he could. Rome Italy.
