Chapter 7
The Snake That Walked
Olive eyes twitched in annoyance as he with fair hair wandered about his apartment. He knocked out of the way a few objects that were lying on the floor, and continued circling around back to where he was before. The room was dim with only a few lamps on the little tables to give any light. Decent heat fluttered around in the atmosphere, being pushed around by the motions of the contemplating man. He looked upset on the outside, but was actually calm on the inside. He wanted to make sure he could get his revenge. He wanted to make sure that he wasn't found out. He wanted–
"What are you like, doing," said a voice from the other side of the room.
"Feliks," he hissed.
"Ugh, you are such a total bust, Emile," Feliks stated. "Keep frowning like that, and you'll totally get wrinkles. What's with all this like, revenge n stuff you keep talking about?"
"It's all his fault," Emile muttered angrily. "Because of him, I lost the most important thing to me."
"Who?"
"Alex," he slammed his hands on the table. "Ever since that day, I thought of nothing but paying the sunovabitch back for what he has done."
"Wow, such a drama queen," Feliks flipped back his hair. "Makes it even stupider that I'm stuck with you. I'm not interested in silly pranks."
Emile shot a look of infuriation and poisonous contempt at the other before giving an innocent little smile before moving over to the couch and sat down. Feliks' frown deepened. The little shine in the Emile's face was so fake it was sickening. For a moment, they didn't speak to each other Feliks glanced away lost on how to react. He sighed loudly and circled around. Not that he could wander that far. The two beings were no more separated than a couple of random people chained together. Now it was a struggle for dominance, but it didn't used to be. Emile was dormant somewhere in the voids of the mind, waiting for his chance to strike like a deadly cobra.
"So what are you going to do?" Feliks murmured.
Emile just snorted.
"What do you think? I'm going to kill him, of course."
x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X
Another day meant more chores or something that would keep the poor Lithuanian busy. Not only does Feliks often call Toris to come up with plans, sometimes inviting himself to lunch or dinner, but also life itself happens. Only certain days, can he catch a break and just stop for a moment and enjoy the scenery of the children playing near the erected stone fountains or the adults aloof of their daily troubles. Families would even gather and enjoy lunch together on a heated day. The birds were of good company, and Toris occasionally fed them with an admiration for their natural beauty or colorful feathers. He once saw a family of swans in the waters of Central Park. One of the large immaculately white creatures wandered on land for some of the stray crumbs he had tossed for the ducks. The mother remained wary of him, naturally, while the young bobbed about in the water nearby. Now out of the water and waddling easefully on land, the swan that wandered from it's watery home seemed even bigger. It picked around and jabbed into the grass for any pieces of bread or feed left before raising it's delicately shaped head up at Toris. Its neck was slender, and lengthy. The waterproof feathers that flowed along it were smooth and in no way were bent or fluff.
Toris had a little bit of bread left and surrendered it to the snowy bird. Gradually the swan bent its neck and bowed its head to eat. It here that Toris had one of those moments where he would set down on one knee and talk to whichever creature was of current company. It would be about small things, really, or perhaps how silly an event that occurred was. He couldn't help it. It's just that the swan appeared to have a look to Toris that he was here to listen to all his worries, hopes and dreams, even if it couldn't understand. So he talked to animals– at least not all the time, anyway. No one seemed to notice him doing this, thankfully, for they would likely think of him as a strange foreign man, talking to a bird like it's human. Eventually, the masked bird would turn its interest elsewhere and return to his family in the pond. Toris would take his leave as well and come back another time.
For now, he was wandering through the unsurprisingly busy streets of New York City, seeking out a store to buy a few new business shirts. Some of the ones he had were getting a bit old and worn. Feliks had decided to join him, probably wanting to see if there was any cute clothing's he didn't have. Oddly, Toris noticed his friend hadn't seemed to motivated to shop for all the things he used to. He supposed it was a good thing since designer clothing was expensive! Why the Polish was so intrigued by that stuff, Toris could never understand. Traffic moving with the crowd was fairly slow and so Toris decided to speed up his pace, and by now rather nonchalantly for as long as he's been in New York. At first such a move of pushing through the crowd seemed a little unnecessary. It doesn't take long to figure it is if one wants to get somewhere in a preferred time limit.
The city was the same as it always was, jam-packed with an overwhelming population and different number of ethnic groups, yet it was easy to pass by each kind without realizing they were any different from the rest. It was a subconscious unity, undisturbed. Signs were shoved and displayed in close quarters, still noisy even during the day and at times even more obnoxious when the sunlight launched off their faces. Other became more invisible. One in particular stood out to the Lithuanian's interest, and he signaled Feliks to follow. After getting out of the way of the endless wave of moving bodies, Toris on instinct asked if Feliks wanted to stay with him or go explore some of the nearby stores. Feliks shrugged and stared at him rather blankly. Not even the slightest signs of care were in those dull pools. Defeated by this unresolved query, the brunette decided to have him follow along. Feliks kept up rather fairly with Toris until they were just two huge hoarding windows away from his desired destination. Toris stopped too once he noticed the blonde had halted where he was, lagged ten steps behind. He followed where the other's eyes wandered with confusion. It must be a smaller city than he thought. In the gaping corridor made of tiles and plaster walls off in a lonely little area was that one girl from C17. What was her name again? She's the one from Italy. No, no, the other one. Then it slapped Toris sharply. It was Bianca, the seemingly ill-tempered one of the two. She was painting it appeared. The Italian girl had her canvas on a dependable stand and a paint palate, hooked by her left thumb. Her cynical face was filled with concentration, as she moved the fine haired brush however she willed it to. Bianca had no obvious model before her. Maybe she was painting the scenery of the place? Behind the vigilant painter was a familiar face even if a hood tried to cover most of her features.
Wyktoria. Is that who Feliks was staring at? Maybe he had some sort of desire to be friends with her. The expression on his face however revealed something darker, hidden in shadows Toris couldn't see. Still, he wanted to figure out his friend's behavior and broke the questionable silence.
"Why don't you go talk to her?" Toris offered. "Both of you are from Poland; maybe you'll have more luck speaking to her."
Feliks remained silent for a moment. Longing glinted across his eyes as he angled his gaze downward. "I don't feel like it."
"Why?"
"'Cause I don't want to, okay," Feliks replied in a sparked tone. "Can we just drop it?"
"I don't get what the big deal is," Toris murmured. "I thought you would at least be interested, since she's like us. Maybe be like her big brother or something-"
"Toris, would you just shut up, already," the blonde spat so coldly it caused the other to shrink a little. Feliks took a moment to regain his posture, realizing he'd gone too far. A swift glance made it obvious he had attracted the attention of the people around them, but he dared not to let his eyes wander where Bianca and Wyktoria were. Toris was baffled and hurt of his friend's sudden tone. Having felt it was his fault for pushing it, he backed off apologetically.
"Sorry," he quietly, not wishing to draw any more attention and decided to leave Feliks alone. It was always the best thing to do when he friend got genuinely upset at him. "I'll be over in the Men's Clothes Store."
"Toris, I– I didn't mean it," Feliks tried to get him to come back.
Toris just continued to amble away, his head lowered like a proud man's pride that had been mangled. His feelings weren't as hurt as it appeared, but they were definitely taken by surprise. Not knowing what else to do, Feliks gradually turned and left. He'll catch up with the Lithuanian later. When Toris' thoughts began to slope downward in a neutral, calm rhythm, a new voice interrupted his concentration and he almost crashed into a pillar that firmly supported the ceiling. Criminy, was he ever able to do anything he needed to anymore? Correcting himself, he looked around to find the one who called out to him.
"It's a small city after all," a dry humored voice said. It was Bianca, and Toris had almost walked right past her stationed spot without noticing. Both warm colored eyes were still deadlocked on her work. Where did Wyktoria go? The anxious girl was nowhere to be seen.
"She left a little bit ago, while you were talking with your friend," the paintbrush Bianca held briefly left her canvas, lapping up some paint before retreating to the page. "William came to get her. Poor girl can't hardly go anywhere without him. Admiring my work, she was, waiting for him. I ask her no questions. Wyktoria doesn't speak to anyone, but William."
Bianca pulled back from her work, observing it turning her head sideways a bit. Toris stepped behind her, cautious and curiously to see the work she has done. He was amazed by the neat blending of colors as they were smeared together, sometimes creating a new shade of vivid hues. Some of the colors were noticeably dark, but most were a generous and not too attentive or too dull to the eyes. Strokes were bold, drenched heavily in the oily paint, and some were bony and refined for details. In the image was a rather vague landscape with hardly any bothering of detail for the background. There was only a skinny layer of grass where the ground held underneath the two characters in the image. A lone, ghostly tree was the only other close appearing thing. The first thing that caught Toris' eyes was a creature dipped in the blackest of black perched up on a grotesque, twisted branch of the tree. It was clear from the careful handwork that it was covered in smooth, deadly feathers by the rare, lighter black areas. Some places were rough and jutted from the slender figure. Following from the subtle tail feathers, down a folded, pointy wing to the neck, it was clear a daggered black beak equipped the character's face dangerously. They were parted in a silent, shivering caw. Although it was small in comparison to the other, the second being to catch Toris' flickering emerald eyes, the mere presence of it was heavy and devilish. The angry flaring red eye, though small, made it so. Below the high branch was a majestic, prideful creature made up of earthy brown tones and a drop of warm tones. Four long, nimble legs stood below its body with a thick long, arched neck up to the head. It stared up at the branch to the dark bird that hollered wordlessly. Its tall ears were alert, beady black eyes full of curiosity and surprise. Upon it's long shaped face were the biggest pair of antlers Toris had ever seen. They were delicately drawn and painted like a tall crown upon its head. Eyes easily used the colors chosen to tarnish the canvas to cleverly reveal the branchlike antlers shape without being drawn out with lines. Although the creature was already wonderfully drawn with paint, it still looked unfinished like the rest of the image. Perhaps she was going to add more to it?
"You're not like us, are you," Bianca queried suddenly. This question stumped Toris.
"How so?" He asked her, hoping the Italian girl would explain herself.
Instead, Bianca cleared her throat and offered her hand, while moving a lock of her silky, dark hair out of her eyes.
"Hi, I'm Bianca Catanzaro. I don't think we've properly met."
Although her gesture was friendly, her tone was rather chilly and her gaze very awkward to meet directly. Dazed by her dominating eyes and still confused from moments before, Toris, by polite instinct took hold of her hand and gave it a quick shake. Her grip was very light, as if to avoid close contact. Slender fingers and simple, short nails were soft to the touch, although stained by dark and earthy colors.
"Y-yeah," he replied. "I saw you when Feliks and I were introduced."
"Yes," she dragged the word peculiarly. "Your friend seemed to enjoy the attention, although he seems to avoid Wyktoria."
"He's usually really shy of people he doesn't know too well," Toris scratched his head. "Although I will admit, lately he's been acting a bit— off. I suppose it isn't all bad, though."
She raised an eyebrow at him. Toris blinked.
"So what have you come to the mall for," Bianca returned to examining her work. "Shopping for something, I suppose?"
Toris explained he had come to find some new business shirts for work and that his old ones were a bit outdated. Bianca asked if she might come with, since she was feeling like she needed to get her circulation going. She had been sitting down the last few hours without getting up. The Lithuanian wondered about her stuff she has set up for painting. Without a word, Bianca nonchalantly began to fold and put stuff away. She had a portable little case for her paint and brushes, dumped the contaminated water down a little drinking fountain and to Toris' amazement, picked up her canvas stand and simply folded it. The layer of paint itself on the canvas was thin so the moisture left it quickly. Bianca had it made pretty well. He offered to carry any of it for her, but she lifted her load up and down and said it was manageable. At first the silence between them felt quite awkward to Toris and he wished to break it.
"So, you like to paint animals," he asked curiously. Bianca nodded.
"I paint almost anything, really," she replied. "But nature and animals have been more of interest. It is my belief that one person can be well represented by an animal. The same one can represent multiple people, but each individual can have different behaviors or traits that are listed under the same creature. They can even have slightly different physical characteristics too like size, colors, build, etc. For the majority of people I see in my life, I can see clearly what animal represents them best. Some are harder than others because maybe they have a mix, but it is unusual."
"Really?" Toris pondered on this. He's always heard of things like animal spirits and what they stand for, but never met someone who seemed very intuitive on the subject. In fact, back when he was much younger, during his Pagan years, he had somewhat of a belief in animals and image of power, strength, loyalty and otherwise. "What animal of nature do you believe represents me, then?"
Bianca looked into Toris' emerald eyes and searched impossibly deep within them. Her solid, black pupils seemed to contract and dilate like the lenses on a camera or machinery. It seemed like there was a split moment of confusion, but it all happened so quickly, Toris couldn't be sure what she saw or was thinking. Swiftly, she grabbed and flipped open a sketchbook she had, single handedly and led a charcoal pencil around on a blank page. The Italian had to take her time, because the supplies she held crippled the mobility of her left arm. When she was done, she handed it to him. The Lithuanian took care in taking the sketchbook from her, and dared to look at what she had drawn. The sketch was unrefined, however it was very well done, nonetheless. It was a stag with a tall, slender neck that had an identical impressive pair of antlers as the one in the painting Bianca did. Of course, the girl had no time to do the body, so she had only drawn some of the shoulders, neck, head, and towering adornments. The male deer himself appeared young, but the size and graceful curves of the branching crown upon his head gave sense of wisdom and age. It had a modest expression upon its face, but its ears were still erect and alert as if to listen to every sound of the forest from the hurrying ants to the wind blowing gently through the trees for any sort of danger.
"Impressive," Toris said. However, he wasn't so sure if a stag represented him. Never having thought of it before, it hindered his judgment of whether such proud, respectful creature could symbolize him.
"Who are you?" Bianca asked.
"Huh," he became confused again.
"I meant how old are you?" She somewhat snapped, correcting herself. The fire in her question didn't scorch him, but did seem to cause a drawback in his confidence.
"I-I'm," Toris stalled for a moment. "I'm about 776 years old. I-I was– born in the year 1236. Is there something wrong with that?"
The Italian woman just huffed and looked away, resting her free elbow on the slanted side of her hip. Her dark brows were drawn close to her sharp eyes. He wasn't sure whether to think he had done something wrong, or if she was thoughtful. The Lithuanian did look younger than her. Bianca looked to be in early to mid twenties. It would be a ridiculous subject, if that were the case. When she was ready to talk again, Bianca looked like a girl who had given up on a complicated math equation.
"Mind telling me a bit more about where you come from?"
"You really want to know," Toris was unsure. There was too much he could tell.
"Yes." It sounded like an order from her. Almost. "There is a reason I lack a history degree."
"History degree?" The brunette blinked at her. "Where do I even begin?"
The two continued to walk alongside one another, but kept a fair distance of air between them to signify they were not in a relationship of sorts or even close friends. Toris didn't seem to notice as he wondered what he could tell the curious, somewhat dry natured girl. There was too much history to tell of, so of course he thought of picking out important and interesting events. The larger part of his pasts that were like experience in the average life of a person that defined who he was. Toris was caught by surprise when he had been yanked hard to stop and yelped. A little melodious jingle cracked the air between them before he could question her. It was Bianca's cell phone. It didn't take long to realize he had almost walked by the men's clothed store and before he could blink, Toris had Bianca's painting supplies and materials shoved into his arms. Parts of the canvas tripod had jabbed painfully into his ribs and he had to reach down for a paintbrush that had fallen out of the holder.
"Ciao, Papà?" Bianca spoke into the tiny phone. From within the portable technology came a rough, annoyed sounding voice.
"Dannazione, where the hell have you been," the voice hollered. "I've been trying to get a hold of you forever, but you never picked up your goddamn phone. Seriously, what the fuck?"
"Papà, I told you I'm in Amerika," she sighed. "I've been very busy, lately, and Felicia keeps putting my phone on silent without telling me. You know she's good at pick-pocketing me."
"Well tell her to fuck off then, aye? You know that I worry about ya being in places far away from home," her father hissed. Bianca didn't seem at all fazed by her father's vulgar speech. His voice changed to a light sounding pout. "It bothers me to think my precious bambina is in danger. I never know what's going on around you."
For the rest of the conversation, Bianca finds herself trying to end the conversations as quickly as possible. Toris was looking quite awkward over there waiting patiently for Bianca to get back to him. How embarrassing!
X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x
I am so sorry that I have not updated this story in so long. I had a major writers block the last time I uploaded and tried to work on it, but coming back to what I had and started to write in the next chapters I realized that I actually had quite a bit to say in the next chapters. I will work as hard as I can to try and get some more chapters done. And in case it didn't translate correctly:
Bambina is Italian for "baby" as in the infant.
1 Bambina – Italian for "baby"
