What's ahead?: Hetero love (yep! decided to keep the lemon for my next fic,
where it fits better!), cussing, bloody blood, and a bit a yaoi (finally
made my mind!). And yes, the rating went down. PG-13, no trauma for anyone!
~_^
Pairing: Mainly Quistis/Seifer
Disclaimer: I don't own and I really regret it :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~xXXx~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 5: The boy
The high-pitched whistling announced the train's imminent departure. Allen crashed his sore body hard on the steel bench and crossed his ankle over his knee, bringing to his nostrils the foul odor emanating from his dirty pants. Grimacing, he brought his crossed leg down to the ground. Trickles of sweat fell from his bare skull and down his cheek, just like tears. Allen licked the salty liquid from the corner of his mouth, unaware of the few people who were giving him dirty glares, frowning at his stench, or maybe at his careless, almost drugged expression. More probably at the ugly half-healed scar on the right side of his shaven head. Stitches have been useless to close the open gash after his operation. The wound would keep reopening as soon as the stitches were removed. The borders of the cutted skin were raw, a nasty dark purple color. Mom had to put little steel hooks inside the flesh to keep it together. And, seeing it wouldn't keep the blood from seeping out, she had used special plastic liquid and sealed it in a transluscent but solid grasp. Hard as glass.
It was an accident. It wouldn't happen again, mom said. Allen knew she felt bad about his wound. He knew it because since it happened, she would avoid looking at the scar. She would look at him directly in the eyes, those huge, gray eyes sprinkled with green snow, surrounded by dark eyelashes and crowned with perfect arched eyebrows. She said he looked a lot like his father, an obscure character from her past life who supposedly died protecting someone very important. Mom talked about him like a great hero, someone people would remind for decades. But she would never say his name. And as much as he tried to find that great hero, spending days and days in Deling City's Royal Library buried in history books, scanning thousands of pictures searching for a resemblance with him, he never found. And he finally gave up trying.
He supposedly died when Allen was six. He had no memories of this time. The oldest image he could conjure was waking up in Deling City's hospital, three months ago, with the worst headache and plastic tube connected to every inches of flesh. He had panicked and almost tore open his left arm trying to dislodge the needles. Allen feared needles more than he feared his own death. Any sharp objects presented before him, even a fork, would drive insane shivers up and down his spine. He ate all his meals with a spoon, of with his fingers when it was solid.
Mom said he fell down the pier while she was collecting small monsters and items on the shore besides. Probably stumbled on something. The tide was low, and he had crushed his skull on the rocks down the pier. A sharp piece of rock was driven through the bone by the impact, and tore a part of his brain. That's how he lost the memories of his own life. He could have died on the spot, but he has been lucky.
Mom lived alone. No other man had touched her since his father, and she intended to keep it that way. Allen was her only man, she claimed to everyone. It was a lot of responsabilities on his young shoulders. He knew he would always have to follow the way after her. To confort her the nights when she wasn't sure of the meaning of what she was doing anymore. Calm her insecurities before thinking about his own. But she listened to him like she would listen to a thinking adult, and smiled at him, a smile that meant a whole speech. Their bound could not be broken.
Allen distractly played with the ring he wore on his right ringfinger. It was a jewel, carved with abstract form which, mom told him, were a very ancient form of writing that her own ancestors used, many centuries ago. The ring had a dark green cabochon attached to it, and carved with the form of a Phoenix, the symbol of rebirth. The artistic work done on the jewel was near perfection. When looking close, you could see each one of the bird's feathers had been carved to look just like the real thing. with perfect lines. But you had to watch real close...
The boy snapped out of his contemplation of the stone when he heard a light chuckle in front of him. pushing the ring away from his eye, he directed his displeased glare directly to the source of the noise, a very young girl sitting by her mother almost directly in front of him. Cute. Maybe five years-old, long blonde locks, piercing green eyes. She had an arrogant smile plastered all over her face as she watched him watch her. She stuck a little pink tongue out and made weird sounds, spitting all over her lap. Allen sneered at her, fighting the urge to throw a fist in the middle of her insolent face. Just as he felt the anger rise inside him, he noticed the slight aura.
Slight. Not much of an aura, actually. More of a baby nightlight aura. A bit of training could make it stronger, and she was young, very young, easy...putting the moves on her would be risky, with her mother near her. But he hadn't found anyone this day. Mom would be deceived.
Allen stood up carefully, keeping an unsure balance as the train rocked form side to side. He eyed the young girl once, twice, until he saw her eyes get a little glazy. He then slowly walked to the next wagon. He heard the faint noise of brushing clothes, and the voice of her mother asking where she was going.
"Pee-room" She answered, giggling at the dirty word.
The train passed a rail point and headed south, to Timber. A few minutes afterwards, the girl's mother called for people's help in order to find her daughter, who disappeared ten minutes ago. But she was already away, docily following Allen, her tiny hand clasped in his.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~xXXx~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I know this chapter is pretty damned short, but I wanted Allen to have a full chappy just for him. Ain't I nice?
Pairing: Mainly Quistis/Seifer
Disclaimer: I don't own and I really regret it :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~xXXx~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 5: The boy
The high-pitched whistling announced the train's imminent departure. Allen crashed his sore body hard on the steel bench and crossed his ankle over his knee, bringing to his nostrils the foul odor emanating from his dirty pants. Grimacing, he brought his crossed leg down to the ground. Trickles of sweat fell from his bare skull and down his cheek, just like tears. Allen licked the salty liquid from the corner of his mouth, unaware of the few people who were giving him dirty glares, frowning at his stench, or maybe at his careless, almost drugged expression. More probably at the ugly half-healed scar on the right side of his shaven head. Stitches have been useless to close the open gash after his operation. The wound would keep reopening as soon as the stitches were removed. The borders of the cutted skin were raw, a nasty dark purple color. Mom had to put little steel hooks inside the flesh to keep it together. And, seeing it wouldn't keep the blood from seeping out, she had used special plastic liquid and sealed it in a transluscent but solid grasp. Hard as glass.
It was an accident. It wouldn't happen again, mom said. Allen knew she felt bad about his wound. He knew it because since it happened, she would avoid looking at the scar. She would look at him directly in the eyes, those huge, gray eyes sprinkled with green snow, surrounded by dark eyelashes and crowned with perfect arched eyebrows. She said he looked a lot like his father, an obscure character from her past life who supposedly died protecting someone very important. Mom talked about him like a great hero, someone people would remind for decades. But she would never say his name. And as much as he tried to find that great hero, spending days and days in Deling City's Royal Library buried in history books, scanning thousands of pictures searching for a resemblance with him, he never found. And he finally gave up trying.
He supposedly died when Allen was six. He had no memories of this time. The oldest image he could conjure was waking up in Deling City's hospital, three months ago, with the worst headache and plastic tube connected to every inches of flesh. He had panicked and almost tore open his left arm trying to dislodge the needles. Allen feared needles more than he feared his own death. Any sharp objects presented before him, even a fork, would drive insane shivers up and down his spine. He ate all his meals with a spoon, of with his fingers when it was solid.
Mom said he fell down the pier while she was collecting small monsters and items on the shore besides. Probably stumbled on something. The tide was low, and he had crushed his skull on the rocks down the pier. A sharp piece of rock was driven through the bone by the impact, and tore a part of his brain. That's how he lost the memories of his own life. He could have died on the spot, but he has been lucky.
Mom lived alone. No other man had touched her since his father, and she intended to keep it that way. Allen was her only man, she claimed to everyone. It was a lot of responsabilities on his young shoulders. He knew he would always have to follow the way after her. To confort her the nights when she wasn't sure of the meaning of what she was doing anymore. Calm her insecurities before thinking about his own. But she listened to him like she would listen to a thinking adult, and smiled at him, a smile that meant a whole speech. Their bound could not be broken.
Allen distractly played with the ring he wore on his right ringfinger. It was a jewel, carved with abstract form which, mom told him, were a very ancient form of writing that her own ancestors used, many centuries ago. The ring had a dark green cabochon attached to it, and carved with the form of a Phoenix, the symbol of rebirth. The artistic work done on the jewel was near perfection. When looking close, you could see each one of the bird's feathers had been carved to look just like the real thing. with perfect lines. But you had to watch real close...
The boy snapped out of his contemplation of the stone when he heard a light chuckle in front of him. pushing the ring away from his eye, he directed his displeased glare directly to the source of the noise, a very young girl sitting by her mother almost directly in front of him. Cute. Maybe five years-old, long blonde locks, piercing green eyes. She had an arrogant smile plastered all over her face as she watched him watch her. She stuck a little pink tongue out and made weird sounds, spitting all over her lap. Allen sneered at her, fighting the urge to throw a fist in the middle of her insolent face. Just as he felt the anger rise inside him, he noticed the slight aura.
Slight. Not much of an aura, actually. More of a baby nightlight aura. A bit of training could make it stronger, and she was young, very young, easy...putting the moves on her would be risky, with her mother near her. But he hadn't found anyone this day. Mom would be deceived.
Allen stood up carefully, keeping an unsure balance as the train rocked form side to side. He eyed the young girl once, twice, until he saw her eyes get a little glazy. He then slowly walked to the next wagon. He heard the faint noise of brushing clothes, and the voice of her mother asking where she was going.
"Pee-room" She answered, giggling at the dirty word.
The train passed a rail point and headed south, to Timber. A few minutes afterwards, the girl's mother called for people's help in order to find her daughter, who disappeared ten minutes ago. But she was already away, docily following Allen, her tiny hand clasped in his.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~xXXx~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I know this chapter is pretty damned short, but I wanted Allen to have a full chappy just for him. Ain't I nice?