Quicker updates now! Woot! This fic is almost over, I'm afraid, but not a lot of people read it anyway, so I guess that's alright. :P
Reviewers! Or, actually, reviewer. As in one. Out of all the hits I got. -hint hint-
ClinicallyInsaneAndDangerous: Indeed! Ziz is part of the three "Great Beasts" of Jewish Mythology: Behemoth, Leviathan, and Ziz. Now, Ziz is actually a male in the myth, but I needed to have a male and a female dæmon for reasons explained later on in this chapter. ^_^
Ziz was described as a large griffin-like creature with wings so large they blocked out the sun. Now, it's irrational (not to mention impossible) to have a dæmon that large, so I had to tone it down a bit. ;) Ziz was very protective of other birds, and liked to beat the crap out of people who killed the birds in his/her territory.
Solas is a Gaelic word that means "light." By the end of the chapter, hopefully you guys will get the gist of what I'm trying to convey here. You're smart though; you'll figure it out. ;)
Read on, my viewers!
"Two," Rosalie choked out past her shock. "He has two dæmons?" Tyxander let out a shrill yowl, pressing up against her legs, his white cat fur on edge. Rosalie picked him up quickly when Ziz lifted her gaze, pressing him against her heart.
The griffin dæmon's yellow cat eyes were amused. "Have you never seen any form like us?" she asked quietly, her head tilted to one side.
"Unnatural," Tyxander hissed, his claws sunk into the front of Rosalie's jacket. "We need to leave! We need to leave!"
But Rosalie couldn't even move—she was pinned in place by Ziz's golden eyes like a bird caught in the hypnotic gaze of a snake.
Solas raised his head imperiously, looking down the length of his pale yellow beak with harsh red eyes. "We shouldn't waste our time with this one," he snorted, ruffling his feathers. "She's obviously not as quick as her father."
Despite her shock, Rosalie felt a prickle of resentment. "I'm plenty smart!" she protested, trying to think of the situation as her talking to another human—not to another person's dæmon and certainly not to two dæmons of the same person. "I don't need you to tell me otherwise."
"We're baffled by your behavior, Rosalie Brown." Ziz got to her mismatched feet, licking her shoulder—a strange mix of silky fur and thin feathers—with a rough cat tongue. "You don't act like we would expect—"
"—and we've heard enough to guess at what that would be," Solas continued as if he were the one that had spoken in the first place. "Aaron Brown was our friend. Not exactly our creator in the sense of the word—"
"—but close enough," Ziz finished, not looking away from Rosalie. "You can go, Director. We wish to speak alone with Aaron Brown's daughter and her dæmon."
The Director's eyes sparked with irritation. "I make the rules around here—not you," he said bluntly. His fingers twitched at his side.
Solas rolled his eyes, dipping his beak and half-raising his wings. "Seriously? What do you think we're going to tell her that she probably hasn't already figured out, hm? That we're going to use our powers of evil to take over the world? Please."
"I don't take cheek from anyone, dæmon," Director Collins snapped. His own dæmon snarled and hissed at his side, flaring her wings at the smaller white phoenix dæmon.
Solas looked unimpressed. "Leave us."
"Please, Director," Ziz added in her soft voice. "Rosalie Brown has been a subject of our fascination ever since Aaron Brown told us of her." Sweeping her gaze over Rosalie, she added, "Do you think she doesn't understand the power of that machine?"
That machine? The Bisector? "What—" she started, but was cut off by a broken hissing sound as the Archaeopteryx dæmon nudged her human's hand, speaking softly in a sibilant whisper.
The director's face softened immediately as he bent to listen, and in that instant, Rosalie saw some of Jay in his father's face. After a moment, he twisted his mouth and straightened, giving a stiff nod before turning and exiting the room without another word. His dæmon turned and cast a strange, confused look at Rosalie and Tyxander before she shook her head, her feathers whistling through the air, and turned to follow her human, kicking the door shut behind her with a sharply-clawed leg.
There was an uncomfortable silence after they left, leaving Rosalie trapped in the ultra-white room with the strange dæmons. "Um..." She twisted the hem of her jacket nervously. "You wanted to speak with me?"
"Yes, we do." Ziz walked forward towards her, her raptor talons clicking on the hard tile floor, sending echoes in the small space. Standing right next to her, Ziz's head came up to Rosalie's chest. "You are quite unusual, Rosalie Brown. Very alike your father in some aspects, but in others—"
"—completely different." Solas spread his wings and took to the air, soaring almost silently to stand on the ground near Ziz, his head coming up to her shoulder. Together they stared up at Rosalie, and despite their differences—color, species, features—Rosalie could see some untraceable similarity between them. Solas tilted his head, looking at her with one red eye, then turning to look with the other. "Where's your dæmon?" he demanded suddenly.
Rosalie started, taking a step backwards. "Uh...here." She patted the front of her jacket, where Tyxander was hiding inside as a lizard. "Do you...want to see him?"
"Of course," Solas exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Why wouldn't we want to see him? After all, he—"
"—still changes, right?" Again, the other dæmon finished her companion's words, continuing on as if it were totally natural. "What's his name?"
Rosalie bit her lip. Why should I tell them anything? I don't know them—they aren't even people! Talking to another person's dæmon isn't right!
"We know that you have some qualms about us," Ziz said, sitting down to lick her black talon and clean her face like a cat. "But this is what we are. Why should we be ashamed of this?"
"We shouldn't," Solas said firmly, his gaze hard. "Besides, your father didn't mind us."
"He welcomed us," Ziz added.
"He was the only one that looked at us without disgust."
"Something you couldn't help."
"Could you?" they asked together, their heads tilting at the same time.
Now feeling extremely unnerved, Rosalie gasped, feeling herself hyperventilating.
"She's going to faint," Ziz noted.
"We've never seen someone faint before!" Solas sounded excited. "Do you think we should get her a chair?"
"Good idea." Ziz turned around and padded back towards the boy laying limply in the chair, nuzzling him gently with her beak, before sinking her talons into another, smaller armchair that Rosalie had overlooked. She dragged it back, pulling it all the way around Rosalie and positioning it carefully. "Sit down now, Rosalie Brown."
Feeling Tyxander shivering in the inside pocket of her jacket, Rosalie clamped her hand around him, not believing what she was seeing.
Solas scoffed. "Honestly! Some people!" He lunged forward, spreading his wings in a single, startling movement.
Rosalie recoiled with a cry of shock, tripping over her own feet. In that same moment, Ziz pushed the chair from behind, knocking Rosalie's knees out from under her. Rosalie fell into the chair, landing awkwardly. "Stop! Stop!"
Ignoring her, Ziz pushed the chair forward, scraping the hard tile with her lion hind paws, until Rosalie's chair was right next to the boy, Mitchell's chair. "Not bad," she said, ripping her claws out of the armchair with the sound of splitting wood. "What do you think, Solas?"
"Could've done better," he said critically, flitting back onto his human's chair arm. "We'll need to work on that when we don't have unexpected guests." He threw a pointed look at Rosalie.
"I'm...I'm sorry?" Rosalie stuttered, wondering what she was doing here the whole time.
"Oh, ignore him," Ziz said dismissively. "He doesn't think before he speaks." She trotted over and rested her chin on Rosalie's chair, coming so close that Rosalie shrank back uncomfortably. "So...tell us."
"Tell you what?" Rosalie asked, utterly confused.
"About the outside, of course," Solas snapped, narrowing his eyes. He clicked his beak irritably, refolding his wings. "It's not like we're allowed to leave."
"Aaron let us leave occasionally," Ziz put in, her eyes thoughtful. "Under his supervision, of course."
"They used to clip our wings," Solas informed Rosalie, extending his wing to show her the newly grown flight feathers. "I can only just fly again."
"They touched you?" Tyxander came out for the first time, his eyes wide brown rabbit eyes. "You let them?"
Ziz shrugged. "It's not that bad," she said softly.
Rosalie tightened her fingers in Tyxander's fur. "Not that bad?" she echoed. "That's just...taboo! It's a terrible breach of privacy!"
Solas laughed harshly. "Not like we have any. Our body is constantly under watch because of his condition." He nodded towards Mitchell's prone form. "We're always measured and prodded and poked at." He shook his head.
"It's just how we are," Ziz said simply.
"I wish it wasn't—"
"—but that's how it is anyway," Ziz said dryly.
"How do you do that?" Rosalie asked, her head whirling.
They looked surprised. "Do what?" they asked in unison.
"That! Finish each other's sentences and talk at the same time..." She trailed off, feeling stupid.
The two dæmons exchanged amused glances. "We're the same," they chorused. "Why wouldn't we know what the other is thinking? Isn't it the same with you and your dæmon?" They tilted their heads—again, hypnotically, at the same time. "We can do it all the time if you want."
"Yes, but Ty's my dæmon, not..."
"Not two?" Ziz asked curiously. "Is it our fault that we're two?"
Suddenly, Mitchell groaned, his fingers twitching slightly. His back arched in the armchair, his eyes wide and staring at nothing.
At the same instant, Solas collapsed, falling off the arm of the chair and hitting the ground with a solid thud, his eyes screwed up in pain. He folded his wings awkwardly at his side as he fought to right himself.
Rosalie shot to her feet, panicking. "What's happening?"
Ziz sighed deeply, reaching out with her hand-like talons and gently lifting Solas, cradling him against her chest. With the other talon, she reached out and stroked the damp hair off of Mitchell's face, trailing her dagger-sharp claws down his face delicately. "Calm down, Rosalie," she said softly. "It's just an attack."
Solas was crumpled against the other dæmon's chest still, his eyes closed. Rosalie could see his chest rising and falling quickly.
Tyxander flowed out of the top of Rosalie's jacket, pressing his ferret paws again Solas's limp form, his eyes worried. "What's wrong with him?"
"This happens every so often," Ziz explained calmly, even though Rosalie could see that her golden eyes were glazed over with pain. "Because our being is split into three parts instead of the natural two, we have sudden seizures as our spirit tries to figure out what's happened."
"Does...does it hurt him?" Rosalie asked, pointing towards Mitchell. She walked slowly over to him and, hesitating slightly, pressed her palm to his forehead. "He's feverish."
"He's always feverish," the griffin dæmon informed her. "This is his constant state. It appears like we have a lot of explaining to do."
"Is that why the director brought me here?" Rosalie asked, pulling her hand away from the comatose boy.
"No," Solas rasped, lifting his head weakly from Ziz's arms. He nodded stiffly to her and she gently lowered him to the ground, taking care to set him gently on his feet. "He thinks seeing us will frighten you enough to scare you away from here."
Ziz lowered her head to gently nuzzle Solas's feathers. "But it didn't work, did it? You're more curious with us than revolted."
"Well, if my father was with you..."
"Not with us, necessarily," Solas said, wincing as he readjusted himself. "He was on the team that created us so long ago..."
"We've only been alive for sixteen years, but your father was on our team." Ziz folded her talons underneath her and settled her head on the edge of Rosalie's chair again, her golden eyes thoughtful. "He and Steven were our main caretakers and researchers. They were a great team."
"Dr. Steward?" Tyxander gasped.
"Yes." Ziz held out her claws protectively as Solas fought to get his feet under him, panting hard. "They got us when we were just born. We were only two, then."
"You were one dæmon? You were born that way?"
Ziz sighed, laying back down. "It's...complicated. You see, every human has three parts." She held up her paw, counting down her reasons on her long claws. "A spirit, a mind, and a dæmon. So, we were no different when we were born—Mitchell was a normal baby, and we were a normal dæmon."
"Totally normal," Solas put in, sitting much more comfortably now.
"But I don't understand," Rosalie protested. "How can you be the way you are now if you were born just like any other..." Then she remembered what Ziz had told the director earlier: Do you think she doesn't understand the power of that machine? "The...the Bisector?"
"Right," Solas said briskly. "Ted—Dr. Richards—was the main mechanist on the project. Project Gemini." He spat the words out with surprising venom.
"Solas," Ziz chided gently.
"I know," he relented. "Gemini means 'twins,' you see. They thought it was clever. So they adopted us, so to say."
"Mitchell's mother sold us for money," Ziz sighed, her voice dismissive as if she had explained this many times before. "She was a single mother—she needed the money."
"She didn't want us," Solas hissed. "A terrible woman with a dead-brained dæmon. He must have been a cockroach or something else foul." He looked away bitterly.
"Sold you here? And they bought you?"
"Science knows no limits, Rosalie. Director Collins needed something to boost his funding...we were the first to be put in the Bisector." Ziz dropped her gaze.
"But something went wrong," Solas continued, his eyes unfocused. "They hadn't tried it on anyone else...they didn't know what to expect. We went into the machine as one—"
"—and came out as three."
"More like two and a half," Solas grumbled, tilting his head to gesture to Mitchell. "They pulled us apart too fast—our link was surprisingly strong, and they underestimated us. The dæmon we were split into half, but there wasn't enough to make two full dæmons—"
"—so to relieve the pain of our separation, somehow Mitchell's spirit ripped itself in half to try and make up the difference. Solas and I both share a part of this spirit."
"Mitchell's body rejects us, though. A human can only have one dæmon and still be whole—anymore than that and—"
"—you get us," Ziz finished, bitterness finally reaching her voice.
"Mitchell cares nothing for us," Solas hissed. "Our attacks happen because his body wants a whole spirit. It pulls at the piece that we have within us." His eyes had been half-closed in thought, but now he turned to Rosalie. "What do you know about psychology, Rosalie?"
"Not much," she admitted. "I know about Freud and Pavlov...he was the one with the dogs, right?" She felt her cheeks flush as Solas gave her a pitying look.
"Solas means," Ziz cut across smoothly, "what do you know about duality?"
"Er..." Rosalie wracked her brains, but was too nervous to think of anything. I'm so stupid! she railed internally.
Tyxander, who had been sitting on the front of her chair, looked up in surprise, his whiskers quivering. "Well, 'dual' means 'two,'" he said slowly.
"Right." Solas hopped up to his feet, shaking out his ruffled feathers. "Black and white, day and night—"
"—light and shadow, hard and soft, yin—"
"—and yang," Solas finished. "Duality is in everything—including humans. There's human and dæmon: two different sides of the same coin. Dæmons possess qualities that their humans don't."
"Isn't that right, Rosalie?" Ziz asked, leaning in closer.
Rosalie thought of Tyxander. He was so confident, strong, fearless...and she was everything the opposite.
Not true, she felt Tyxander protest, but she just smiled and shook her head.
"Exactly," the griffin dæmon said, seeing the look on Rosalie's face. "When Mitchell's spirit came to try and help us out, he accidentally transferred the two parts of his nature into our new forms." She glanced over at Solas teasingly. "Straightforward, blunt, sharp..."
Glaring at her, Solas retorted, "And quiet, passive, and dull."
Rosalie couldn't hold back a laugh. They bicker so much, but they are the same! It was such a strange and bizarre conundrum: two creatures who shared the same being, but they were just so different. It's like one of them is the human and the other is the dæmon, she mused. They aren't really that different.
Ziz's golden eyes were amused, but suddenly her hackles raised and she looked towards the door. "Someone's coming!" she hissed.
Solas flew from the ground to the back of Mitchell's chair, his feathers fluffed up and his beak open and ready to bite. "Who?"
"Don't know." Ziz walked towards the door stealthily, keeping her weight low over her paws. She pressed one pointed ear against the crack, closing her eyes to help her concentrate.
Blank shock came over her face.
"Impossible," she whispered, backing up quickly. "It's...it's not true! It can't be true!" She whipped around, her eyes wild. "Rosalie, you need to get out of here. Now."
"W-what?" Rosalie felt panic clutch at her heart. "Who is it? Who's there?"
But the door was already opening, slowly, as if the person was afraid of what was inside.
"Rosalie, get down!" Tyxander hissed, pushing at her with wide badger paws.
Ziz snarled furiously, leaping towards the door and slashing with her wickedly-curved talons. The person jumped back, startled, but Ziz's claws still hit their mark, raking inch-deep grooves down the metal door. "Rosalie! Go!" she roared.
Solas was screeching, flapping his wings. "No! No!"
The door was opening again, but this time, Ziz didn't attack. Instead, she whirled around, gracefully spreading her huge wings and taking off in a single, smooth movement, flying straight at Rosalie. Reaching out with her talons, Ziz collided with Rosalie, carrying her off her feet and into the air, where they hovered.
Rosalie protested against the contact with every fiber of her being. No! Wrong, wrong, wrong! Let me go! She wanted to scream the words, but what she saw at the door made the words die on her throat. "No..." she mouthed, her lungs seeming to lack the air needed to articulate the words.
A man stood in the door, his shirt torn at the bottom and his red hair was messy with lack of care. Crooked glasses rested on his nose over deep brown eyes, eyes that were filled shock. On his shoulder sat a dæmon in the shape of a mockingbird.
It was Aaron Brown.
Ah, this fic suddenly picked up. A lot. I'm not sure that I like it. O.o
Rosalie is coming across as rather stupid. I know it seems that way (and is that way) but let's pretend that it's not, 'kay? I can't change it much now, since I've already written our her character, but I'll try my darndest. XD
And, to add to the randomness of the deceased coming back to life, I shall leave you with this Blues Brothers quote:
Elwood: It's a hundred and six miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses.
Jake: Hit it.
Aww, I love that movie. ^_^
R&R!
Shadow
