Clockwork.
Summary: Fed up with the lie he's lived, a boy makes his way from home to a strange abandoned tower in the sand of a desert. Life is finally alright, until he becomes obsessed with a researcher's work, and becomes something he had never expected. Maybe the nightmares were never meant to end. Epros x Ari. Implied Ari x Stan. One shot. Slightly AU. Spoilers! Epros-centric.
Note: I've been wondering where Epros came from, so this is a fanfic about his origins. As a result, it is pretty AU, but there are some spoilers for in-game events. Also, some of the dialog in the in-game events are skewed, because I don't remember all of what was said.
(x)
One foot after another, the desert didn't allow for much more than that. Even with the wonderful amount of shade provided by the perpetually setting sun, the temperature was still far too hot for the usually sea-side-dwelling boy. With a bit of exasperation, he wiped a hand across his forehead, trying to remove some of the sweat. His efforts were to no avail, considering how clammy and dust-covered his hands were. A disgusted sigh escaped his lips, and he peered onto the horizon, trying to find somewhere that would be suitable for setting up a camp.
Over the sand domes, he spotted what appeared to be a giant, looming tower, and he might have been giddy in excitement at the discovery, were it not for the fact that sand was invading every piece of clothing he wore and permanently souring his mood. It wasn't like he didn't have dozens of outfits in his backpack to replace the one he was wearing that was now –unfortunately- ruined. 'Doesn't matter, though' he thought to himself, his step hastened as he made for the tower.
Coming closer, he noticed that the tower was rusty and made mostly of gears and metal plates. The tower of gears was sunken into the sand, and it took him several minutes to find the door of it that was partially covered by the accursed sand. Not caring too much for it, he begrudgingly dug his way down, unearthing one of the doors just enough to open it.
'I hope no one's inside.' He mused to himself, only to rationalize that, considering how buried the door was, no one had probably been there in months, if not longer.
Opening the door, the boy was hardly surprised when he found the main foyer to be filled with broken machines and obnoxious amounts of –surprise, surprise-sand. Sighing to himself, he let his aching feet rest, sitting on the cold floor. Walking all of the way from Rashelo had been taxing on his body, while leaving his family had mostly left him feeling discontent and aggravated. That was all in the past, though.
'None of that matters, anyway. They didn't need me; said so themselves.' He thought bitterly. Around him was sand and machinery, and it did nothing for the headache that was forming in the back of his skull.
'Wonder what the rest of the tower is like.' And without a second thought –but brief hesitation, due to the sheer tiredness of his body- he set off to investigate the rest of the rusty building. After passing a doorway, he found himself staring at a staircase, winding around to the left, and he groaned in exasperation. The last thing he wanted to see right now is stairs, but if it couldn't be helped, he'd just have to brave them.
After walking up several dozen steps, he a small hallway leading out of the stairwell, and even though the stairs still persisted upwards, he took a brief reprieve to see where the door led. It stuck fast, but with a bit of force, and a good, solid kick, it creaked open. Behind the door was more machinery, but with a pleasant lack of sand. In the middle of the room sat a bizarre apparatus of sorts, with a desk on the far side of the room, littered with books and notes. The boy ignored it, since it wasn't on the top of his priority list. Right now, all he cared about was finding a bed, and maybe even a bath to wash up in. Considering how much food he brought with, as well as the wild game he found wandering just out in the desert, he wasn't too horribly panicked to find food.
Leaving the apparatus room, he continued ascending up the stairs, finding another room with the same hallway set-up. Fortunately, this door wasn't so stubborn in opening, and just needed a light push. Inside was what he had been looking for; a bed, messily made, and a bath with a sink next to it. If he had to make a guess, he'd say that whoever once occupied this tower used this room as their bedroom. Since he had brought his stuff with him when he made for the stairs, he was able to simply drop his stuff and sit down, finally able to rest easy.
However, since he knew that it wouldn't do to get sand in the bed, he made for the shower first. When the water came on, he was pleasantly surprised; in a place as old and unmaintained as this, having a working water system seemed too good to be true.
Taking a hand under the cold water, he was even more shocked that it appeared to be clean, drinkable water. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't have contained the smile that came to his lips. He removed his clothing as quickly as he possibly could, groaning when the grimy, sand-covered cloth rubbed against his skin. That didn't matter, though, since he was finally getting out of this god-awful outfit that his mother had once claimed looked so 'wonderfully handsome' on him. Oh, how he was going to shred it when he was finally clean. Taking a moment to grab soap and shampoo from his bag, he decided he was ready to embark on the most wonderful adventure of his life; getting clean after trekking through a god-forsaken desert.
Getting into the tub, he felt almost overjoyed as the sand and grime that had stuck to him washed off easily, the soap easing everything off almost instantaneously. Even though he would never admit it, he spent nearly an hour in that mostly freezing tub, cleaning himself and soaking in the fact that this was what freedom felt like.
Once he felt adequately clean, he removed the cork from the drain, removing himself with haste. Mentally, he chastised himself for not setting a towel out before, but it didn't really matter; the air was warm, and there wasn't anyone there to see his glory. However, he still felt obligated to wrap up, and promptly did so. It took several minutes of rummaging through his bag to find one, since he had brought enough supplies with him to make himself comfortable for a very long while; and luckily the charm he had placed on his bag made it worlds lighter, so carrying it was hardly a chore. If there was anything he knew about magic, it was that it could be used for both brutal and practical purposes. Somehow, his family always seemed to neglect that.
He spent several minutes wrapped in a towel, staring at himself in the dirty mirror above the sink. To say he looked tired was an understatement, but with the way his long, wavy, blonde hair went all the way down to his shoulders, it wasn't surprising what words his father had to say about him. That didn't matter, though. He was done with those people, and now he was finally free. A thought popped up in his mind after staring at his blue eyes in the mirror; something needs to be changed, to mark the new life I've begun.
He pulled the cards he fought with out of his bag, careful to not bend them –he learned the price of what bent cards did the hard way, considering the tree-branch-like, lightning scar he had on his right thigh. They danced around him, happy to see his familiar face once more, and he smiled back at the animate objects.
Light formed in his fingertips, and with a white flash, everything in the world blurred for a moment, before returning to normal. He felt slightly drained from the use of magic, since he never had the talent for it like his sister did, but he didn't mind the feeling too horribly anymore. At least, not as horribly as he did the first time he was forced to use magic.
Looking back in the mirror, he smiled at the new pigment of his eyes.
Red was most certainly a good look on him.
After taking time to admire his new self-improvement, he dressed; a simple dress shirt tucked into his favorite pair of red pants, with black dress shoes. Typically, he would have thrown on an overcoat of sorts, but the desert was far too hot for that. Besides, he wasn't trying to actually impress anyone. This was simply so he wouldn't be caught off guard by any unexpected visitors.
He pulled on the creaky door, finding it opening a bit easier now that he wasn't so horrendously exhausted. Knowing what lie for him on the lower floors, he continued his previous ascension. The walls became less and less rusted as he continued up and up, almost looking new by the time he reached the third door. Inside was something he hardly expected; bookcase upon bookcase covering every surface inch of the walls, with a single, surprisingly comfortable looking, loveseat in the middle of the room. The boy assumed that this is what his father would refer to as a 'study', but he didn't care too much. Some pages and books littered the floor, but it was so far the best kept room in the tower.
Though, there wasn't much to see there that he couldn't save for later, and he backed out into the stairwell, and set off again. One foot after another, he almost felt like he was dying from the motion. In Rashelo, he never had to climb up obnoxious amounts of stairs, or even worry about giant, rusty towers filled with them, but here he was; in a tower of gears, trying to find what lie above each floor.
The next –and final, considering how the stairs ended at a wall- door he found was slightly different from the others, as it was a double-door, and looked almost new –it even appeared to be wooden. With a determined huff, he approached the door, finding that it opened like a dream, compared to the apparatus room's door.
Inside this room was a beautiful view of the desert, a massive window taking up a good portion of the wall. Even with the wonderful bedroom on the second floor, this is what he would have considered as the 'master bedroom'. On the far side of the circular room stood a large, king-sized bed, neatly made and covered in dust, red-wood bed-posts coming up close to the ceiling. Between each post were thin curtains of black, matching the black bedsheets. He smiled happily as he examined the rest of the room, finding a bathtub identical to the one in the lower bedroom, as well as a matching sink and toilet. Even if there was no food storage in the entire tower, he wasn't too horribly worried; he had been taught how to salt and dry meat before he could even spell his own name.
This sparked a thought in him; names. If he had changed his eye color to break away from his past, wouldn't it make sense to change his name as well? But, to what, exactly? He couldn't remember anyone from Rashelo with a name he would be proud enough to call his own, and all the stories he had been fascinated in always had a protagonist with names like 'prince charming' and 'the Great Hero'. And surely, calling himself Hopkins would be too much, no matter how full his ego was.
Peering at the dresser, he noticed a journal of notes, with handwriting identical to the ones on the desk of the apparatus room. At the bottom of each conclusion of notes was the same name, over and over. The boy flipped through the hand-bound journal, finding each page to be filled with tables and charts, with notes scrawled every which way, but on each page, the same name was placed neatly in the lower outer corner.
He tested the name on his tongue, saying it aloud over and over, finding it to taste pleasant –as opposed to the hideous name his parents designated for him. Each time he said it, it sounded far less foreign than his own name, and without much thought, he felt it fit into his identity. From that day forward, he would go by the name of the lonely scholar who once occupied the tower of gears. From that day forward, he would be known as 'Epros'.