Darkness in the Twilight
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By Psycho Ferret and LunarCrystal
From Gaea to Terra
Santa Cruz, California wasn't a bad place to live. It's got the boardwalk full of rides and games, it's got the beach, it's got a nice downtown area, relatively nice rainy weather in the winter, warm in the summer. Not a bad place to be at all. The parks were always the most breathable places, and there were plenty of those. . . with forests not too far away in the hills.
Christopher was a tall, lanky brunette with his haired tied back into a shock of curly cues. He tried to be athletic, but usually ended up failing miserably. The basketball shifted in his hands, and he jumped, imagining the three point score -- only to be miserably disappointed when the ball missed the rim completely . . . in fact, it was *over* the backboard. Groaning, he gave chase to the rolling ball, ducking behind bushes and trees. It was just getting to evening, and after that last shot, he was ready to go home and give up for the day.
He pushed deeper into the thick undergrowth, finding his ball but also something else. Chris nearly fell over from the shock. There in front of him -- a man, blond with incredibly long hair, bloodied and unconscious. A girl was with him, and she seemed to be knocked out too. The first thing he thought was that the guy had been mugged. . . if it weren't for the strange costume he was wearing. The girl too, although she was dressed more plainly, in some heavy dress.
"Holy shit," he breathed, dropping his ball and going to them, "Oh, my god. Are you guys alright?"
Allen was silent, blood and dirt smeared against the slick uniform, his leg, at least for the moment, useless. Long shocks of blonde hair fell loosely about him, stained a deep crimson. He reeked of, blood, his skin pale--paler than it really should have been. He wore a sword at his side... maybe he was part of one of those Renn Faire things...
Ethan was a little younger than his brother, his hair a pretty auburn-ish tint, falling straight--he'd gotten that from their mother. Fair skin, slight build--yes, he got that from his mother, too--he padded up beside his brother. "Hey, Chris? You know what time it is...?" For a moment, the younger boy didn't notice his brother's shock. But when Chris didn't answer, the boy followed his brother's gaze.
"Help us," said the girl, almost too softly to be heard. Chris could've sworn she was knocked out like the guy in the uniform -- it looked too military to be civilian clothing. Chris moved forward a bit more, crawling on his hands and knees - he was staring horribly, and he felt cold from the shock. All he wanted to do was play a little lousy basketball with Ethan, and he just *had* to stumble upon this horrific sight.
"Ethan," said Chris, not even turning to look at his brother, whom he felt was solid and stiff right next to him, "Ethan, we need to get help. . ."
"I... I think there's a pay phone nearby," he muttered numbly and stood there for a little longer. The blonde's pained, weak groan pulled the boy out of his shock and he turned sharply, running to the phone. His hands were shaking as he dug around in his pockets, dropping the quarters several times before he finally managed to get them into the slot. Somehow, he managed to remember 911... then, in broken, panicked sentences explained the scene... and when he hung up, he dashed numbly back to his brother's side.
Allen was still out of it, not quite unconscious at the moment, but nearing it again. "The... fort," he murmured, a shaking gloved hand grasping Celena's arm. "Have to... Gaddes..."
"Allen, hold on," whimpered Celena, "Hold on a little while longer." She had her face buried into Allen's chest, not crying or sobbing, but just laying there - she looked like she was having trouble breathing, Chris noted. He kneeled a little closer to them.
"Miss, help is on the way, okay? Just hold tight. Your friend's going to be okay." he said to her, but the girl didn't respond, still clutching the fabric of the man's uniform. He turned back to his brother Ethan, a look of horror on his face -- he'd never seen so much blood in real life before.
"What do you think happened to them?" he asked.
"I... I don't know." Ethan looked uncomfortable. That much blood... certainly it wasn't a mugging, right? The younger boy bit down on his bottom lip softly. "But I... I hope they get here soon. He's so pale... A-and... and there's so much of it..."
Allen coughed a few times, wet, nasty sounding coughs, his eyes fluttering a little before he slipped back unconscious, barely holding on as it was.
Chris didn't even know what to think - the whole day was forgotten to him. He stared, even though he tried so hard not to. "It's weird . . . they don't look like . . . like they're from around here, do they?"
"Maybe... there's one of those weird conventions around here? I mean, they're... they're happening all the time. It's pretty plausible that someone might beat up a geek... right?"
Chris just shook his head. That couldn't be it. Not with the way they were dressed, it was so - unusual. They were too real to be geeky costumes from a convention nearby. His wounds . . . "Holy fuck, look at his shoulder!" he exclaimed, quickly moving right up Allen to pore over him. "It's a friggin' *gash* . . . like from a sword."
"Only you would know that." Ethan arched a brow, holding a hand over his mouth and nose as he drew nearer, cringing. "God... there's blood everywhere..."
"Please," pleaded the girl. She finally looked up, her eyes were reddened from crying - but they were the most unusual shade of blue Chris had ever seen. So *vivid* . . . he gasped when he saw her face, beautiful and marred by such grief. "Help my brother! Help him!"
The older boy didn't know what to do, he sort of jumped back when she raised her voice, surprised. But with those pleading words, he decided. Chris took off his shirt, ripping the jersey knit fabric easily to make a tourniquet. "I don't think they should go to the hospital . . ." he began.
Ethan blinked, starting a bit. "What? But... we... we can't treat them. We don't know what to do!" He stared at his brother, startled.
Allen groaned softly, shifting a little, his eyes flickering halfway open for a moment, bloody, gloved fingers shaking as they grasped Celena's sleeve. "Basram..." He coughed again, rolling onto his side, the pressure on his injured shoulder making him groan.
"We'll figure something out." said Chris, who was already getting an idea of what to do. He would never be able to explain it. He just got a horrible sinking feeling in his gut that told him these people weren't just nerdy nobodys. They looked to attractive, for one . . . their clothing was too authentic, too course to be machine made in his world. Taking the torn fabric, he set to wrapping it around the man's injured shoulder, trying to ignore the groans of pain as he tied it as tight as he could.
"Take your shirt off and do the same to his leg, Ethan." Chris looked over at his brother, who only stared. So he hit him squarely on the shoulder, "*Now*, damn it!"
Ethan swallowed tensely, shuffling over to the injured man's side and crouching down. He tugged the shirt off his lean body, tearing at it. I just bought this yesterday... God, that sucks...
He set about tying off the rather impressive injury with the cloth in his hand, moth and nose buried in his upper arm to keep from being overwhelmed with the scent of the blood. He felt queasy.
"Oh my fucking God, Chris... it's like... like a hole in his leg."
"Don't think about it, just do it." Chris said. He looked over the man once more, trying to see anymore spots where blood leaked out, and thanking god that he found none. He put a hand on Celena's slumped shoulder, looking at her strongly.
"We live just over there," he pointed behind him to some town houses, "Can you come with us? We'll help your brother." Celena could only nod, and for the first time Chris noticed the curls around her head - she had *silver* hair. Like gray/silver . . . it only made Chris feel like his last minute decision had been the right one. "Okay. Ethan, go to the corner store down the street and get a sewing kit. Understand? We're taking him home."
"You sure you two can make it back without my help?" Ethan stood, blinking a bit, loking at his brother. At the nod, the boy turned and started running towards said store, tugging on the remnants of the shirt he wore. It fell a little short of his ribs, now that it had been torn off, but with the fishnet shirt beneath it was easily passed off as another of Ethan's crazy little outfits.
He grabbed a sewing kit and a few rolls of bandages and some rubbing alchohol, just in case, quickly paying for them before heading out, moving quickly back towards the house.
The guy had been light enough to carry - but Chris didn't get very far without the girl's help. She had walked across with him, her expression seemingly in a complete haze, even as he struggled with this man in his arms. . . he was not a soldier, and he only fancied himself to be athletic. His own body was skinny, but not lithe skinny - he was just inherently skinny. So, as it was, he had been able to lift the knight, just not carry him.
Celena, carrying her brother on his other side, could only walk and follow the young man who had promised to help Allen. She had had no choice, and she felt so tired of bloodshock that she didn't care. It was a short walk across a strange hardened field, some grass, an aesthetic line of bushes, before reaching more strange stone streets - *not* made of cobble, but some smooth material. The door had opened easy enough with just a nudge from the young man's shoulder, and Allen was finally settled upon the couch.
"The tourniquets seem to be working," Chris mentioned, feeling numb with panic but doing a good job control it. In the distance, he could hear the approaching ambulance that Ethan had called. The paramedics probably won't be happy to find nothing and no one there, thought Chris wryly.
Ethan pounded his way up the steps, bag grasped in hand. He saw the door partially open already and sighed, they'd made it back already, good. He shoved open the door, shutting it behind them.
"I didn't know how fast you guys would get here," he panted softly. Running wasn't his big thing... athletics in general weren't. And then running in those boots of his.. yeah. Ethan shoved the bag at his brother, running a hand through his hair. "Got bandages and some rubbing alcohol, too, just in case we didn't have any. Is he gonna be okay...?" Ethan peered over his brother's shoulder at the man on the couch, frowning worriedly, then turned his attention to teh girl.
"There were too many of them," said the girl. Chris looked at her, staring when she finally spoke. Maybe she could tell them what was *really* happening . . . it was a fluke situation. Nothing like this could ever happen in real life, could it? The young brunette had to quickly snap out of his thought process so that he could work on the knight. The sewing kit and alcohol would be first, so he started working on the shoulder gash, pouring the alcohol on it straight from the bottle.
Allen jerked a bit, hissing softly, unseeing eyes flickering halfway open. He didn't know what the burning sensation was, his mind barely registering it. And this most certainly wasn't Scherezade.
"A-ah... miss? What's... what's going on?"
"I don't know," said Celena softly, weeping. She was holding her shoulder, shaking from shock and . . . it wasn't cold. They weren't home, because home had been in winter time. "Where are we?"
"Santa Cruz…," Ethan blinked, biting down on his bottom lip, looking at the woman. She wouldn't know where that was. She wouldn't, he could feel it.
Celena shook her head and was about to say that she didn't know where that was. She was on the floor of this home, a small quant little place with -- things -- strewn about everywhere. But she was mostly concentrating on her brother, on her hope to not let him die. Their clothing was strange, their speech was strange, but it wouldn't be until later that she realized she wasn't speaking Asturian, but what ever language these two men were speaking.
"Is . . . is this --," she began, hesitantly, her eyes focused on Allen where he lay prone on the couch and being tended to by the one named Chris, "The Mystic Moon?"
"The... the what? No... this is, um... this is Earth?" Ethan blinked, looking confused, watching her. His heart fluttered. The Mystic Moon? What in the hell?
Chris had broken open the sewing kit now and was just starting to close up the gash, his fingers shaking horribly as he pushed the needle through the man's flesh. There was blood on his hands, and it was certainly a sensation he wasn't quite used to -- the only thing that drove him was to save the guy's life.
Allen winced a bit... awake. The movements were tiredly lazy, weak. He turned his head away slightly. For a moment, he panicked. Where was Celena? He doggedly shifted, sitting up despite the careful attention being paid to his shoulder, brow weakly furrowing.
Ethan stared. "Whoa, hey! No, don't do that!"
"Allen!" Celena jumped, crawling quickly to his side and reaching his leg from where he sat on the couch. "You mustn't move, Allen. They're tending to your shoulder. Please, don't move."
Allen shuddered slightly, grasping her arm with his uninjured one, bowing his head with a shaky breath against the high back of the couch.
Chris had been having enough trouble as it was, and his clumsy stitches were only tugged as the knight sat up. The young man had frantically tried to keep with the other's movements, but still managed to tug at the skin. "Ack, geezus! Hold still - I'm not used to doing this. Miss, could you tell him to hold still."
"Allen, do what he says. Lay back down." she instructed, trying to stay calm. She supposed they would figure out the details later anyway. His grip on her arm was enough reassurance for her, and she removed it to take his hand, tugging off the glove. "You'll be alright."
Allen weakly settled back down, long hair falling about him, pooling on the floor. He gently curled his fingers into hers, more than comforted by her presence. It reminded him that he wasn't here alone.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Chris continued stitching the wound closed. Celena turned to the other young man, with the auburn hair. "My brother is blind. He does not know what's happening around him except by sound. He . . . must be more than a little frightened." She gazed sympathetically towards Allen, still gripping his hand, kissing it softly over the knuckles.
Ethan blinked, staring at him. "H-he's... he's blind!?" The boy looked surprised, turning his head towards Allen. "But... he's got a sword!"
Chris remarked sarcastically, "Maybe we should call him Zatoichi . . ."
Celena arched a fine eyebrow. "Who?"
"He's... um, he's a blind samurai." Ethan rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. "Actually, he's a masseuse, but... yeah. Never mind."
There was really little more that could be said about the situation. Chris simply continued stitching, working on the hole in the man's leg before using the sterile gauze to wrap both wounds. For being an amateur at healing, Chris had done a pretty good job. But Celena was completely impressed by his skill, going over Allen's cleaned and stitched wounds herself to make sure everything was perfect.
"You are an -- adequate healer, Mr. Chris." said Celena, looking up from carressing Allen's face.
"Uh - just call me Chris. That's my first name. And ... and this is Ethan. My brother." When Ethan didn't answer, Chris smacked his shoulder.
Allen had fallen unconscious again during the stitching, unable to keep himself awake for very long points of time. His grip on his sister's hand loosened, head resting on the couch pillows.
Ethan blinked... Allen sure did look different when he wasn't all bloody. He was actually kinda... pretty. He shoved back that thought awkwardly, biting lightly down on his pierced bottom lip. his ears were covered in piercings, 7 on each ear, a twin tongue stud, lip ring and then his nipples and navel. He'd just have to make sure he didn't get into any fights, he'd be out in a second. "Ah... hello.."
Celena nodded to him, almost as if she were about to curtsey. She made herself comfortable sitting on the floor by her brother's side, holding his hand gently in her own. There was blood on her gray woolen dress, but it was not her own. Mud traced along the bottom hem, with several splotches in other various places. She was calm, finally - now that Allen would be okay. She just felt so tired. She wanted desperately to talk to these men. . . they must be on the Mystic Moon. Everything was so foreign around her, so strange.
She was barely able to take in her surroundings. The light was not fire, nor lit gas. But it was brighter than any candle she had ever seen, and it was hidden behind a hat shade on the table next to the couch. All around her there were clutters of paper books and containers with old food, letters on the parlor table, a upright piano of mahogany in the corner . . . it was all she could remember before falling asleep.
Chris look at Ethan, taking the pony tail out of his hair and shaking his longish curls. "Are you as confused as I am?" he asked softly, noting that the girl was asleep.
Ethan shook his head, looking over at his brother. "The Mystic Moon? What is she talking about?"
"I'm terribly confused."
"Yeah." Chris swallowed. He looked up the stairs briefly, "Nicole won't be too happy when she wakes up. We'll have to tell her . . ."
"Yeah..." Ethan frowned a little, shaking his head. "Jesus. I've never seen that much blood before, Chris... what do you think happened...?"
"I don't know - but nothing we can't ask them about in the morning. It's really late." he said.
"You think... we should sleep?" He blinked a bit, looking at Chris. He had absolutely no idea what to do.
"Or . . . maybe not." Chris said, rethinking what they should do. He was the oldest, and being so, it was up to him on how to protect their household. He nodded over to the T.V. "Wanna play Soul Calibur 2?" He sounded exhausted. He didn't really want to play video games right now, but there was no choice in the matter. They couldn't just let these two strange people sleep unguarded in their living room.
"Uh... are you sure?" He blinked a bit, looking over at his brother. He understood... they'd play it to amuse themselves to keep awake.
Chris nodded quietly, turning on the TV with a very low volume, setting up the game. They played until their eyes couldn't even force themselves open, eventually Chris slumped into a chair, the Playstation controller loose in his hands. Ethan had fallen asleep on the floor, the television still on, the game showing the main menu of Soul Calibur 2. All of the blinds were closed in the windows, so sunlight didn't stream through to wake any of them.