Tom finished his assignments when he returned home -he was just that bored. Only a few hours had passed since he came back from school, but he honestly felt like it was an eternity for there was nothing to do. 'How do I stand this?' he thought as he slouched on the comfy couch that faced the television. He couldn't understand how half of him could put up with living like this anymore, he felt so lost without the constant struggle and adventure that Chaotic and Perim offered. Tom looked about the living room: the warm gray walls, the white sheer curtains, and the sparse dark-wood furnishings that his mother so loved. Yep, this was too normal for him right now.
But he needed this, he reasoned with himself. He didn't want to become too attached to Chaotic or Perim; it wasn't healthy for him to do so. He was not a part of that world, so he had to keep some distance between his reality and the one the Creatures got to live.
"It's all so real there," Tom mused quietly. The citizens of that world lived lives that closely paralleled those of their Earth counterparts; they had wars, unfriendly politics and parties that quarreled for power, clashing races and traditions, and belief systems as diverse as the groups that followed them. "They just have the power to do something about it," he spoke into the still air of the house. Growing tired of the silence, Tom searched for the remote and pressed the power button; he didn't really want to watch TV so much as he needed background noise to fill up the suffocating calm that weighed down upon the atmosphere.
He glanced at the clock on the DVR; it was five thirty-eight. "Great, Mom doesn't come home for another half hour," he groaned. Feeling drained, he looked up at the television that was currently spewing commercials at him. The Over-World player felt slightly indignant at the assault of advertisements and pressed a combination of buttons into the remote to pull up one of his favorite channels. More commercials. "Damn it," he sighed exasperatedly.
He flopped sideways on the couch, pulling up his legs and bare feet onto the cushions with him. Bit by bit, Tom began to feel tired, warmed into a lull by inactivity and comfort. He didn't notice that his eyes had flickered shut until the sound of his mom coming through the door awoke him.
"Tommy, I'm home!" She called into the house.
"'M in the living room." He answered in a voice hoarse from sleep. The soft steps of heels on carpet padded closer and Tom raised his head to see his mother peek into the living room and smile.
"Hi, Sweetie." Her bright blue eyes were happy, a sign that she was glad to be home with her only child after a stressful day at work. "How was school?" She asked as she took a seat next to his head and began petting the dark hair that resembled her own, though hers was much more managed and cut short in a stylish fashion that framed her face nicely.
"Nothing bad happened, so it was a good day." Tom replied and sat up, scooting over to allow his mother more room on the sofa.
She nodded, expecting the frugal answer. She remembered high school: the droning of the teachers, the boring feel of sitting through class, and how nothing seemed to happen unless someone went out of their way to make it happen. "I had a meeting today," Tom's mother continued after her reflection. "They want me to go to a business conference that's out of state for a few days."
Tom sat up at the worried tone in her voice. "What's wrong?"
"Well, I don't want to leave you here, and my sister's too busy to come down and watch the house with you-" She let the sentence hang. Tom understood her feelings; she didn't want anything to happen to him, she was just doing her job as a parent. "This conference is essential for the company, and it could help close a deal that we've been working on for months. But I can't just-"
"Mom, I'll be fine. I can lock the doors, keep the house clean, and make sure that everything is okay." Tom assured her. She turned to her son with a grateful, albeit tired expression and smiled. His mother then put her hand on his fore head, brushed back his hair and kissed his brow. Tom just sighed inwardly. This was a strange habit his mother had developed after she and his father had divorced years ago. The gesture was more for her really; it was physical proof that her son was there, that he was safe.
"Okay," his mom whispered in a small voice. She stood up and started heading for her room. Tom followed her to the hallway, but then turned into the kitchen.
"What do you want for dinner?" He shouted once he was at the granite-topped island that held the pots and pans in its cupboards.
"Anything that you don't burn."
Tom smiled to himself. 'It was one chicken. One. A one-time thing.' He recalled the scenario and replayed it mentally, snickering at its absurdity. There was a reason that the Majors always ordered out when Kaz was over.
Dinner had consisted of a homemade pasta salad that Tom was able to whip up in a few minutes. All he had to do was slice a few onions, chop up some bell peppers, throw in some diced tomatoes, boil up some bowtie pasta, and toss in some chicken and use some olive oil. It wasn't really too much in the way of a meal, but neither of the two were too hungry so it was enough to satisfy them both. After the informal dinner was finished, Tom retreated to his room to give his mother the quiet she needed to complete some paperwork that she'd brought home to finish.
He just lay down on his bed, already dressed in his pajamas and played around on a hand-held gaming system that wasn't his Scanner. A while later he grew bored of the tedious and nigh impossible boss-level that he must have had to restart at least twelve times and shut the infernal device off, placing it on his night stand. He glanced at his Scanner. It was so tempting to just reach out and transport to Chaotic. After all, Tom's Earth-self would still be there incase his mom needed him or wanted to check on him for anything. So tempting, but it wasn't enough; Thomas Majors was a stubborn pain in the ass when he wanted to be, so help him. It was just part of his nature to be determined to conquer any kind of challenge, even something as trivial as going a single day without speaking, or –in this case- spending an entire day without doing or saying anything that related to Chaotic. Strangely enough, he found the latter to be more strenuous.
Eventually, Tom slipped into a tired, trance-like state that many enter before they are fully asleep. He shifted around into a comfortable position, pulled his blankets up and allowed his mind to wander about aimlessly until his organized thoughts fell into dreamy disarray.
There was a peaceful stillness to the scene. It looked as if the ground had perfectly mirrored the heavens above, reflecting the dancing auroras of green as they shifted and swayed silently. But He knew this was not so, for in the middle of the stretch of the glass-like 'ground' was a cliff that jutted out and held a castle that was shadowed in the night by the lights from above. The structure did not have any illumination peaking through its numerous windows, probably to keep from poisoning the night with its glare. Indeed, the secluded Lake Ken-I-Po had to be one of the most beautiful places in all of Perim.
He glanced around at the path that stretched and wound its way to the castle from the shore; and for a second he thought he saw something move slowly on it. Unsure of this, he made his way to the forest's boundary that surrounded the lake and hid himself in the silhouette of an ancient tree there. He had made sure that he still had a view of the sky and the rivers of light that floated in it so effortlessly from his vantage point though.
The strange song floated down to his ear once more, and he shut his eyes to let the tune play through his mind. He had begun to think of this music as company, for it reacted and changed moods like any other Creature would. He sighed contentedly. But then the gentle melody sent up a flare of sharp notes to grab his attention, alerting him to the presence of another being.
"Who's there?" He posed the question into the night air softly, showing neither fear nor aggression to the approaching stranger.
"An acquaintance," was the reply.
'Oh shit,' he thought as his mind started to race. He readied himself to flee, but he couldn't bring himself to. He did not sense tension in the air about him, only the thirst for answers. He shifted uncomfortably, and the wandering refrain soothed his anxious mind; he was covered in the shadows of the tree's recesses so his new companion did not see him. He exhaled a breath that he didn't realize he was had been holding.
"Did you come to see the skies dance?" He asked, gesturing to the sky and the spectacle above.
"No, I came here for a friend's advice." He felt Maxxor's gaze in the dark. He knew those amber eyes were searching for any recognizable detail on his person. "Who are you?" The Over-World king demanded in a harsh tone.
"I don't know," He replied in a very small voice. "I…I'm figuring that out."
The green-skinned man flexed one of his hands. The music twirled in response, expecting a threat or attack and warned him to be ready to move. But it never came. The hand was threaded through Maxxor's wild mane instead, either in a vain effort to tame the locks or in a passive gesture that accepted the answer he had been given.
No one spoke. The only sound was the song playing dimly; it too was listening to the conversation.
After a moment of strained silence, Maxxor sat down cross-legged and faced him. "Where are you from? Whom are you allied with?"
"I'm not too sure," he whispered. "I…I'm trying to piece that together too. It seems like I'm being pulled in different directions."
Once more, he felt the Over-Worlder's gaze pierce the dark, scrutinizing everything for a hint to his identity.
"I'm a friend," he assured the king.
A heavy silence settled over the pair.
Maxxor stood up and walked away, determining that this conversation would not aid in his quest for any clear answers.
'That could have gone better,' he mused when the footsteps of the Over-World's leader had vanished. He sunk back into the tree's embrace, allowing the music to drown out the world around him as he fell into his rioting thoughts.
The next morning, Tom woke up late and relished in the cozy feel of having had a great night's sleep. But that was not the only thing that came forward in his thoughts. Last night's vision had been so vivid compared to its predecessors. He could still hear the strange tune echo in his mind. 'What's wrong with me?' He wasn't sure.
A soft knock on his bedroom door pulled him from his reverie. "Tommy, I'm making pancakes," his mother called from the opposite side. "Do you want blueberry or chocolate chip?"