(_(_(_(_(Blinks POV)_)_)_)_)_)
"Why don't you just appeal to them that you aren't what they say you are?" Specs questioned Mike and Joe the next morning at breakfast. Spot answered the question.
"Well," he waved his fork, "we'd quite rather them think that about us, rather than know the truth," This of course makes sense. Spot cast a look at Charlie and she looked away.
"Besides," Dutchy continued his thoughts, "Morris has been after Charlotte for years," Spot nodded. It's true.
"Oh," Specs said, taking a bite of ham.
"Charlie," Spot began. Everyone looked up, except Charlie that is. Why is it that I suddenly feel a lecture coming on?
"We never did get to talk about what happened last night," Charlie merely stared down at her food. Tension rose in the room like oncoming fog.
"Charlie," he repeated himself once again and Charlie didn't move. She was a pro at sitting, unflinching, under his glare. I've got a tolerance like a dinosaur and I cant do it. He repeated the name once again; this time there was anger behind the volume. Charlie looked up at him.
"What?" she snapped. Dutchy's eyebrows flew into his hair and Joe dropped his fork.
"You're not listening, that's what," Spot spat back. Charlotte merely glared at him.
"You almost went out there and got yourself killed," Mike reported as if it was something no one else knew.
"It was me or it was you," Charlie dropped her fork, ignoring the eyes upon her.
"That's not true," Spot voice rose an octave and I heard Joe snort.
"Perhaps we owe her a thank you," Joe began, speaking over his friends, "she did, after all, go out there for us. And then she made them leave for us, and did you see the look on Morris' face when the bullet shot through his skin?" A few of us laughed and Mike looked indifferent.
"Still," Spot will never let this lay, "what if we had lost her? Would it have been worth it? Would you have still thought she did the right thing?" Oh, so he thinks it would be Joe's fault. My turn to talk.
"I think we're blaming the wrong people. It shouldn't be Mike or Joe or Charlotte on the receiving end. It should be the third reich for setting up camp on our lawn," That'll teach them.
"He has a point," Race remarked. Thanks little guy. Thanks an ass load. Spot shook his head and left.
"Why didn't she kill him?" I recognized the new voice at the table as Jack's. Charlie regarded him thoughtfully.
"I cant," she mumbled, as if it were some elaborate excuse. She then shoved herself back from the table and headed into her room. That's what she does all day; she walks into the library once a week and then into her room with a stack of books. I suppose it's because the wants to know as much as Dutchy. That guys a genius.
Sooner or later, everyone has retired and Pie Eater and I are the only ones left at the table. We take a moment to smile and each other and then go up to my room to talk. As we walk up the staircase, Charlie is in her telltale lotus at the top of her stairs, reading away.
(_(_(_(_(_(Joe's POV)_)_)_)_)_)_)
At the back of staircase hall, there is a different staircase; a staircase that forks, and leads downward. Take the right stairs, and you get to the watching room, the blood room, and the weapons room. To the left, are my and Mike's rooms. I stepped into mine. I rather like it. The walls are painted a dark navy blue, (My favorite color) and my bed is a small twin with crisp cotton sheets. What? Did you think I was going to tell you it was a coffin? No way.
Opposite the wall with the bed, there is a door leading to a room containing every weapon imaginable; bombs, guns, arrows, crossbows, swords, staves, everything. We've got it all in the weapons room. I stood in the center of the space for a moment, as if waiting for something to happen. Nothing happened. I walked over and sank into my bed before falling into a fitful sleep full of memories from yesterday.
(_(_(_(_(_Race's POV)_)_)_)_)
After breakfast, I stalked up to my room to think.
Well, now that I have this amulet, I can lead a normal life. And I kind of have Spot to thank for that, although he'd deny it in a federal court of law I think. I sat on my bed, leaning against the wall.
Where do I go from here? Where can I go from here?
Dutchy told me lots of stories about griffons, and about himself before he found out he could mandate his changes. He sounds exactly like me. Then I turned the conversation over to Charlotte and he just looked away. I think that means something. I mean, it has to be hard for her to be the only girl in a house of boys. There has to be something wrong with that.
Yay! That's another chapter! I'm updating as fast as I can! Swear!
Quote: "Who's he?" "Well, he must be a king," "How d'you know he's a king?" "Well, he hasn't got shit all over 'im"- Monty Python
"Why don't you just appeal to them that you aren't what they say you are?" Specs questioned Mike and Joe the next morning at breakfast. Spot answered the question.
"Well," he waved his fork, "we'd quite rather them think that about us, rather than know the truth," This of course makes sense. Spot cast a look at Charlie and she looked away.
"Besides," Dutchy continued his thoughts, "Morris has been after Charlotte for years," Spot nodded. It's true.
"Oh," Specs said, taking a bite of ham.
"Charlie," Spot began. Everyone looked up, except Charlie that is. Why is it that I suddenly feel a lecture coming on?
"We never did get to talk about what happened last night," Charlie merely stared down at her food. Tension rose in the room like oncoming fog.
"Charlie," he repeated himself once again and Charlie didn't move. She was a pro at sitting, unflinching, under his glare. I've got a tolerance like a dinosaur and I cant do it. He repeated the name once again; this time there was anger behind the volume. Charlie looked up at him.
"What?" she snapped. Dutchy's eyebrows flew into his hair and Joe dropped his fork.
"You're not listening, that's what," Spot spat back. Charlotte merely glared at him.
"You almost went out there and got yourself killed," Mike reported as if it was something no one else knew.
"It was me or it was you," Charlie dropped her fork, ignoring the eyes upon her.
"That's not true," Spot voice rose an octave and I heard Joe snort.
"Perhaps we owe her a thank you," Joe began, speaking over his friends, "she did, after all, go out there for us. And then she made them leave for us, and did you see the look on Morris' face when the bullet shot through his skin?" A few of us laughed and Mike looked indifferent.
"Still," Spot will never let this lay, "what if we had lost her? Would it have been worth it? Would you have still thought she did the right thing?" Oh, so he thinks it would be Joe's fault. My turn to talk.
"I think we're blaming the wrong people. It shouldn't be Mike or Joe or Charlotte on the receiving end. It should be the third reich for setting up camp on our lawn," That'll teach them.
"He has a point," Race remarked. Thanks little guy. Thanks an ass load. Spot shook his head and left.
"Why didn't she kill him?" I recognized the new voice at the table as Jack's. Charlie regarded him thoughtfully.
"I cant," she mumbled, as if it were some elaborate excuse. She then shoved herself back from the table and headed into her room. That's what she does all day; she walks into the library once a week and then into her room with a stack of books. I suppose it's because the wants to know as much as Dutchy. That guys a genius.
Sooner or later, everyone has retired and Pie Eater and I are the only ones left at the table. We take a moment to smile and each other and then go up to my room to talk. As we walk up the staircase, Charlie is in her telltale lotus at the top of her stairs, reading away.
(_(_(_(_(_(Joe's POV)_)_)_)_)_)_)
At the back of staircase hall, there is a different staircase; a staircase that forks, and leads downward. Take the right stairs, and you get to the watching room, the blood room, and the weapons room. To the left, are my and Mike's rooms. I stepped into mine. I rather like it. The walls are painted a dark navy blue, (My favorite color) and my bed is a small twin with crisp cotton sheets. What? Did you think I was going to tell you it was a coffin? No way.
Opposite the wall with the bed, there is a door leading to a room containing every weapon imaginable; bombs, guns, arrows, crossbows, swords, staves, everything. We've got it all in the weapons room. I stood in the center of the space for a moment, as if waiting for something to happen. Nothing happened. I walked over and sank into my bed before falling into a fitful sleep full of memories from yesterday.
(_(_(_(_(_Race's POV)_)_)_)_)
After breakfast, I stalked up to my room to think.
Well, now that I have this amulet, I can lead a normal life. And I kind of have Spot to thank for that, although he'd deny it in a federal court of law I think. I sat on my bed, leaning against the wall.
Where do I go from here? Where can I go from here?
Dutchy told me lots of stories about griffons, and about himself before he found out he could mandate his changes. He sounds exactly like me. Then I turned the conversation over to Charlotte and he just looked away. I think that means something. I mean, it has to be hard for her to be the only girl in a house of boys. There has to be something wrong with that.
Yay! That's another chapter! I'm updating as fast as I can! Swear!
Quote: "Who's he?" "Well, he must be a king," "How d'you know he's a king?" "Well, he hasn't got shit all over 'im"- Monty Python