If Only to Forget
= You learn to live with what you're fed... Not just with food, but with attitude, punishment, discipline... Whatever's fed to you, you take it with a high head, and then copy it unless you're either messed up, or smart. In my case, you got your own damn food because no one gave it to you. Your family was your tormenter. Punishment and discipline were the same thing – Smacks and bruises. I lived with it, but never dealt it back. I'm not smart, though. I'm just damn screwed up.
-- Meander =
Year 1749
The sun pierced the horizon, lighting it up with an array of reds and pinks. Light filled the desert suddenly and abruptly, warming the cold ground. Not a cloud was in the sky as the sun slowly began to rise above the horizon. No mountains blocked its path. It was free to scorch the sands, and the young child who lied sleeping in them.
The young, nameless child, who we shall call DemChi (short for Demon Child), stirred as he shifted in the sands. His eyelids flickered and soon lifted, revealing his black eyes to the unforgiving sun. He yawned lazily as he rose to a sitting position, stretching his stiff arms. He was only five years old, yet appeared to live alone.
DemChi rose to his bird-like, skin-covered feet. He tapped the talons of these feet against the sand, then looked around, black eyes innocent. Eyes squinting from the bright light, he began to pad a little bit forward, seeming to look for something. He did not really watch what he was stepping on.
Suddenly the child went tripping head over heals, soon landing roughly on a rock shoulder-first. One layer of skin was stripped clean off due to the fall, and his shoulder began to bleed ever so slightly. A sharp laugh filled the air and, whimpering, DemChi rose into a sitting position and tried to lick away the blood.
Suddenly DemChi found himself rolling in the sand, the aftermath of a sharp kick. He snarled, a warning rather than a threat. It didn't work. Soon he was sprawled in the sand again, his chest throbbing. He soon saw his antagonist, but could not move quickly enough to avoid another kick to the chest. Something snapped, and DemChi cried out with pain. The cry became a snarl and the child dug his teeth into the oncoming foot from his brother, Julius. DemChi shook his head madly, ripping apart Julius' boot. Julius cursed madly as he punched DemChi in the face. DemChi released his grip, only to tackle his brother, growling madly.
"Damn it, you monster!" Julius roared, his black eyes flashing angrily. The five-year-old easily threw DemChi off him, since DemChi was about 25 pounds lighter than he was.
The underweight DemChi rose shakily to his feet, whimpering. Julius approached him slowly, a wicked grin on his pale, hairless face, a face that lacked eyebrows. DemChi snarled a warning, holding up feeble fists, but that only seemed to make Julius come more quickly. The next snarl DemChi emitted was threatening. Julius stopped walking and laughed bitterly.
"You think I'm scared, you stupid freak? You can't even talk and you're trying to mock me?" Julius spat, speaking incredibly well for a five- year-old.
DemChi growled, his spiked tail lashing angrily. Julius charged forward, but was soon howling with pain when DemChi sent his tail straight into Julius' face. Massive puncture wounds in Julius' face dripped blood, the wounds being there due to magical poison imbued in the spikes on DemChi's tail. Julius looked at DemChi angrily.
"You bastard! MOM! The freak hurt me!" Julius roared, scrambling for DemChi.
DemChi swung his tail outward again, causing Julius to back away. Growling, DemChi swung his tail again, keeping Julius at bay. Soon, however, he was sprawled out in the sand, four parallel cuts freshly ripped into his thigh. DemChi whimpered, staring up at none other than his mother, a Demon Queen. The black-skinned Demon Queen looked exhausted and angry. Julius soon rushed over to her.
"Leave your brother alone!" The Demon Queen snarled in the demon language, one DemChi understood just as well as human tongue. The Demon Queen kicked DemChi in the already-bleeding thigh, sending the crying kid into a rock.
Julius stuck his tongue out at DemChi. He and the Demon Queen then turned their backs on DemChi and headed toward a kill DemChi could see in the distance. Whimpering, with tears falling from his black eyes, DemChi crawled into a sitting position, only to yelp when sand got into his wounds. The slashes in his thigh were dripping blood freely, turning his grey, raggedy clothes red.
DemChi staggered to his feet and headed in the direction of a small group of tents in the distance. He had gotten refuge in the small Dari Tribe many times before, that is, until he finally got kicked out for his strange looks and ways. Normally, he got a little bit of food and maybe a bit of medicine before he was kicked back toward his family from hell.
After a great deal of crawling and whimpering, DemChi finally managed to find himself near the massive tents of the Dari. The leather tents fascinated him, particularly since he knew that they contained "rooms" inside. He also knew the tents could be folded up and put away, but today was not that type of day. The Dari were staying where they were, and not following herds. This was good for DemChi; it meant he could get food easier. Already the furred Dari were going about their normal business. They moved from one tent to another, chatting with each other pleasantly. Little children followed their parents, and sometimes gathered to play together. Most of the Dari did not notice DemChi crawling toward them. One, however, did. The female Dari looked over at DemChi. Her yellow eyes widened with shock. DemChi looked up at her with innocent eyes.
"It's back," the Dari muttered softly, lifting one clawed, rat-like foot and scraping the sand nervously with it.
Another Dari looked over at DemChi. A slight frown formed about his rat-like muzzle. Bat-like ears and rat nose twitching, he disappeared into a tent. He soon reappeared with a massive hunk of meat. DemChi licked his lips eagerly, then began to pant, revealing sharp fangs.
"Will 'e bite again?" the female Dari asked nervously involuntarily rubbing an arm that DemChi did not remember biting.
"Hopefully not," The Dari with the meat replied.
DemChi scrambled over to the meat and sniffed it carefully. It was still raw and uncooked. He looked up at the Dari nervously, as if afraid it may be snatched away from him. The Dari dropped it at DemChi's feet, and DemChi took it in his thin hands eagerly.
"See? Just don' try ta take it back," the male Dari told the female.
"'E seems wild," the female muttered.
"And 'e's 'urt," The male replied. "Again. I'm goin' ta go get 'im a potion."
DemChi watched the male Dari leave. Quickly he began to eat the meat, afraid that someone may try to take it from him. Noting that he was eating so fast he may choke, the female approached carefully.
"Don' eat so—"The female began.
DemChi snarled warningly, backing away with the meat. Yelping with surprise, the female leapt backward. DemChi, seeming satisfied, resumed eating. The other Dari watched the situation with confusion, some with disgust. Most did not interfere, particularly when the male Dari came through with a potion. Slowly the male approached, causing DemChi to growl.
"'Ush, I 'ave somethin' for ya," the male said, holding out a potion. "Drink this. It'll 'elp ya... I know ya understand. Come on."
DemChi looked at the potion nervously, then up at the Dari. He put down the meat, then slowly crawled over to the potion. He quickly snatched it and ran back over to the unfinished meat. He resumed eating the meat, yet kept the potion nearby protectively. The male Dari nodded slightly in approval, but many of the other Dari looked disgusted.
"E's such an abomination. Why do ya 'elp such an abomination?" one Dari spat. "'E's ugly, 'e's stupid, and 'e's dangerous. I say we kill 'im."
DemChi whimpered, understanding these hurtful words. Upset, and no longer thinking, he saw the many people agreeing and nodding their heads. He looked down at the quarter of meat left. He looked down at the potion. Then, with a wail, he ran away, not noting the male Dari talking.
He ran away from the tents, tears in his eyes. In his mind, the simplest thing registered, yet probably the most truthful. Everyone hated him. He didn't understand why, but everyone seemed to hate him and hurt him.
The Demon Queen and Julius came into sight, both eating a fallen animal that the Demon Queen had managed to catch. DemChi approached carefully, whimpering. Julius picked up a rock, aimed, and threw it at DemChi. Unable to dodge in time, DemChi was hit in the forehead. With a pained snarl, the child curled into a ball, shaking. The Demon Queen didn't say anything, simply chuckled and kept on eating.
DemChi looked up, wondering what was next. But he didn't see a rock, or a punch. He instead saw Julius' proud smirk, the smirk of victory. The smirk Julius wore showed that the child was glad he had hurt DemChi. He was happy to cause pain and to hurt.
With another whimper, DemChi curled up into a ball, hoping to catch a few minutes sleep before Julius came back for more "play".
= There are two families in the world: broken and together. Treno consists of all broken and no together. You get the fools who meet in the run-down bar, get together, have a kid, and THEN realize that they're not perfect for each other. 50% of the time the two were drunk when they met, and kept getting drink. Or, in my case, the guy was always drunk and the girl was too stupid to realize it. So then I get into the picture. And THEN they realize they aren't compatible, but have to stay together for me.
Goody.
-- Amarant = Year 1781
The light in the room was dim, barely able to light the room. A single lantern, containing a half-used candle, lied on a small, wooden table near an old bed that had no billow, but one dirty, white sheet. The lantern cast spooky shadows on the dreary, rotting wooden walls. The floor was dirty as well, and also beginning to rot. The whole room smelled badly. Cobwebs covered the ceiling. A dusty bookshelf, full of books, lied at the very end of the room. One book was missing, a book about monks and training.
Salamander Coral was reading it. The seven-year-old was lying on the old bed, propping himself up with his elbows so he could read the old book. He didn't notice the smell of the room, mainly because he was so used to it. His dark eyes were glued to the book. His curly red hair was managing to keep out of his face.
Absorbed in his book, Salamander didn't notice the growling of his stomach, nor the stench of the room. He read about the techniques of noble monks, like his father – Or so he thought. A light, interested smile coming over the child's face, Salamander reread the sentence he had recently read.
Putting a piece of old fabric on the page he was on, Salamander closed the book. He swung out of the bed, then looked around for a target. He soon saw the old vase that his mother kept forgetting to sell. Brightening that he had found a target, Salamander walked eagerly over the vase. He then paused, remembering how his mother had told him not to break it no matter what.
Then he remembered that his father always broke everything anyway, so it shouldn't matter.
Suddenly Salamander's leg swung out, delivering a sharp kick to the vase. The vase shattered and went soaring off the table. The broken pieces were soon strewn across the dirty floor. Salamander watched with surprise as the remains of the pieces landed in various places. He looked down at his leg, amazed that he could contain that much power in one kick. Eager to read more, the large child dashed back over to the bed, jumped on it, then threw the book back open and resumed reading.
It was hard for most to believe that Salamander had originally not wanted to be a monk. He had wanted to be a fighter, yes, but more along the lines of a knight. He wanted to travel to Alexandria and join the Knights of Pluto, but his father had quickly rejected his wish. He instead dragged his child to the group of monks that lived in the mountains near Treno. Quickly accepted as a good student despite his father's failure, Salamander soon was learning the ways of a noble monk.
Now that he was used to it, Salamander was eager to learn how to chop wood in half with his hands, and how to use Chakra and the many other techniques. He read so much to learn how to do it. In fact, he was ahead of most children learning at his age. Master Tumis was impressed with the child's work, and it made Salamander beam with pride. He was happy when at monk training, and happy when home alone.
He wasn't happy when his parents were home.
Suddenly, just as Salamander was trying to flip the page of the book, the whole house shook, sending his book flying out the bed. Muttering angrily about having lost his spot, Salamander moved to pick up the book, but the whole house shook again. Sawdust fell from the ceiling, getting into Salamander's hair. Salamander could hear screaming upstairs.
"Not again," Salamander muttered bitterly.
Quickly Salamander grabbed the book and shoved it under the bed. He looked over at the broken vase with a panic, and dashed to pick up the pieces and hide them. Upstairs, the yelling continued, and something crashed against the kitchen floor.
Salamander knew it was only a matter of time before someone came downstairs, looking for him, and any reason to yell at him.
Salamander shoved the broken vase pieces under the bed just as the yelling abruptly stopped. A door slammed, and Salamander knew it to be the front door. Rising slowly to his feet, Salamander listened for sudden sounds. That was when he heard footsteps coming roughly down the stairs.
"What are you doing?" a drunk, male voice gurgled.
Salamander slowly turned around to find himself face-to-face with his father. His father's eyes were bloodshot, and Salamander could smell the beer on his breath. Salamander moved to back away, but his father grabbed his arm and prevented it.
"Aren't you supposed to be – Is that your mother's?!"
Salamander looked up at his father to see that he wasn't looking at him. Slowly he turned to see what his father was looking at. Salamander's heart immediately sank. His father was staring at one broken vase piece that Salamander had missed.
"You broke your mother's vase?!" Salamander's father roared, shoving Salamander backwards.
Salamander fell roughly to the ground. He looked up, met his father's gaze, and shouted, "It was an accident, I swear!"
"You're a poor liar," his father growled, approaching. "That vase was given to your mother by her own! It was a gift for her marriage! How dare you break it!"
"She planned on selling it anyway! What's the point?!" Salamander screamed angrily, rising to his feet.
A quick smack across the face was the response Salamander received. Salamander looked up at his father, only to see his father making a fist. Salamander dodged the oncoming punch, then swung outward and gave his father a kick. His father crumbled to the floor, but grabbed Salamander's leg when he tried to run. Salamander fell roughly to the floor.
"GET OFF ME!" Salamander screamed angrily, considering biting his father.
"First you break your mother's vase, then you dare bad-mouth me? You're asking to be kicked out, boy!" Salamander's father growled, his voice garbled from the beer.
"You're the one who has to go out and drink all the time!" Salamander snarled. "Maybe if you didn't drink so much, Mother wouldn't've considered selling the vase, and I wouldn't have to bad-mouth you!"
Salamander's father's eyes narrowed angrily. "How dare you assume what I have been doing!"
"Assume?! I know it! Mother always wails about it! Now get off ME!" Salamander snarled.
"You need a good punishing – DAMN IT!"
Salamander's father's speech was abruptly cut off when Salamander bit his hand. Releasing Salamander instinctively, Salamander's father snarled with pain and rage as Salamander scrambled to his feet. Salamander rushed by his drunken father, grabbed the large book out from under the bed, then dashed up the creaking, old wooden stairs. He soon entered the smelly kitchen to find it in disarray. Broken dishes were strewn across the floor, and the chairs at the table had been knocked over. A small chunk of the table was completely missing, and in crumpled pieces on the floor. Some blood was splattered on the floor. Part of the floor was sunken in, and the front door was hanging off one hinge.
Hearing his father stumbling on the stairs, Salamander dashed for the front door and shoved it open. The door fell off the final hinge from the force, and fell to the ground, sending Salamander with it. Salamander slammed into the stone street. Quickly scrambling to his feet, Salamander ignored his father's drunken garble. He simply dashed down the street, clutching the large book in his large hands.
Salamander didn't know how many minutes passed before he finally stopped running. Panting, he looked over the edge of the street, and found himself staring at the waters below. He looked up, and found himself near what he called the shop with the beast. No one walked the streets except for guards and a few drunkards. Salamander's father was no where in sight, nor was his mother.
Staring down at the water, Salamander sat down next to the railing. He wiped at the stray tears in his eyes. He refused to admit that he was crying. Monks didn't cry, or at least he didn't see any of them cry. Therefore, he assumed they didn't, and he assumed that to be a monk, he couldn't cry either.
Salamander examined the cover of the book. There were no pictures, merely golden words printed neatly in hand against a black background. The Glory of Monks. That was the name of the book. It showed all the techniques, the glory, the happiness... It was Salamander's escape from reality. It was his prized possession, even though it was actually his father's, not his. Yet his father hadn't looked at any of the books downstairs in years, or so Salamander's mother also moaned.
Carefully Salamander opened the book to a random page. The words "Self-defense for Beginning Monks" graced the top. Salamander smiled slightly at the irony. Just when he needed self-defense, the book flipped to it. Taking a deep breath, Salamander moved into a more comfortable position, making sure he was directly under the light of a glowing, well- maintained lantern hanging right above him.
Lifting his head one last time, Salamander made sure that he was truly alone. The night was quiet, except for the burble of voices Salamander could hear coming from the bar. He wondered grimly if his father had returned there, or if he had spent all the money again. Or perhaps his mother went there? Salamander didn't know, and he knew that he didn't care either.
Instead, he lowered his head back to The Glory of Monks, and began to read.
------- Here's my latest little experiment... Working with Amarant and Meander, the most cynical people of all time! Woo hoo. Anyway, I apologize if at times I may get OOC with Amarant... He's rather tricky to keep IC (at least for me). As for Meander... He's my creation, so if I get OOC with him, I have a problem OO Anyway, so that's all I have to say for now. Please tell me what you think (AKA: Comments, questions, suggestions)!
This story is copyright to me. Some characters, locations, and Gaia in general are copyright to SquareEnix.
= You learn to live with what you're fed... Not just with food, but with attitude, punishment, discipline... Whatever's fed to you, you take it with a high head, and then copy it unless you're either messed up, or smart. In my case, you got your own damn food because no one gave it to you. Your family was your tormenter. Punishment and discipline were the same thing – Smacks and bruises. I lived with it, but never dealt it back. I'm not smart, though. I'm just damn screwed up.
-- Meander =
Year 1749
The sun pierced the horizon, lighting it up with an array of reds and pinks. Light filled the desert suddenly and abruptly, warming the cold ground. Not a cloud was in the sky as the sun slowly began to rise above the horizon. No mountains blocked its path. It was free to scorch the sands, and the young child who lied sleeping in them.
The young, nameless child, who we shall call DemChi (short for Demon Child), stirred as he shifted in the sands. His eyelids flickered and soon lifted, revealing his black eyes to the unforgiving sun. He yawned lazily as he rose to a sitting position, stretching his stiff arms. He was only five years old, yet appeared to live alone.
DemChi rose to his bird-like, skin-covered feet. He tapped the talons of these feet against the sand, then looked around, black eyes innocent. Eyes squinting from the bright light, he began to pad a little bit forward, seeming to look for something. He did not really watch what he was stepping on.
Suddenly the child went tripping head over heals, soon landing roughly on a rock shoulder-first. One layer of skin was stripped clean off due to the fall, and his shoulder began to bleed ever so slightly. A sharp laugh filled the air and, whimpering, DemChi rose into a sitting position and tried to lick away the blood.
Suddenly DemChi found himself rolling in the sand, the aftermath of a sharp kick. He snarled, a warning rather than a threat. It didn't work. Soon he was sprawled in the sand again, his chest throbbing. He soon saw his antagonist, but could not move quickly enough to avoid another kick to the chest. Something snapped, and DemChi cried out with pain. The cry became a snarl and the child dug his teeth into the oncoming foot from his brother, Julius. DemChi shook his head madly, ripping apart Julius' boot. Julius cursed madly as he punched DemChi in the face. DemChi released his grip, only to tackle his brother, growling madly.
"Damn it, you monster!" Julius roared, his black eyes flashing angrily. The five-year-old easily threw DemChi off him, since DemChi was about 25 pounds lighter than he was.
The underweight DemChi rose shakily to his feet, whimpering. Julius approached him slowly, a wicked grin on his pale, hairless face, a face that lacked eyebrows. DemChi snarled a warning, holding up feeble fists, but that only seemed to make Julius come more quickly. The next snarl DemChi emitted was threatening. Julius stopped walking and laughed bitterly.
"You think I'm scared, you stupid freak? You can't even talk and you're trying to mock me?" Julius spat, speaking incredibly well for a five- year-old.
DemChi growled, his spiked tail lashing angrily. Julius charged forward, but was soon howling with pain when DemChi sent his tail straight into Julius' face. Massive puncture wounds in Julius' face dripped blood, the wounds being there due to magical poison imbued in the spikes on DemChi's tail. Julius looked at DemChi angrily.
"You bastard! MOM! The freak hurt me!" Julius roared, scrambling for DemChi.
DemChi swung his tail outward again, causing Julius to back away. Growling, DemChi swung his tail again, keeping Julius at bay. Soon, however, he was sprawled out in the sand, four parallel cuts freshly ripped into his thigh. DemChi whimpered, staring up at none other than his mother, a Demon Queen. The black-skinned Demon Queen looked exhausted and angry. Julius soon rushed over to her.
"Leave your brother alone!" The Demon Queen snarled in the demon language, one DemChi understood just as well as human tongue. The Demon Queen kicked DemChi in the already-bleeding thigh, sending the crying kid into a rock.
Julius stuck his tongue out at DemChi. He and the Demon Queen then turned their backs on DemChi and headed toward a kill DemChi could see in the distance. Whimpering, with tears falling from his black eyes, DemChi crawled into a sitting position, only to yelp when sand got into his wounds. The slashes in his thigh were dripping blood freely, turning his grey, raggedy clothes red.
DemChi staggered to his feet and headed in the direction of a small group of tents in the distance. He had gotten refuge in the small Dari Tribe many times before, that is, until he finally got kicked out for his strange looks and ways. Normally, he got a little bit of food and maybe a bit of medicine before he was kicked back toward his family from hell.
After a great deal of crawling and whimpering, DemChi finally managed to find himself near the massive tents of the Dari. The leather tents fascinated him, particularly since he knew that they contained "rooms" inside. He also knew the tents could be folded up and put away, but today was not that type of day. The Dari were staying where they were, and not following herds. This was good for DemChi; it meant he could get food easier. Already the furred Dari were going about their normal business. They moved from one tent to another, chatting with each other pleasantly. Little children followed their parents, and sometimes gathered to play together. Most of the Dari did not notice DemChi crawling toward them. One, however, did. The female Dari looked over at DemChi. Her yellow eyes widened with shock. DemChi looked up at her with innocent eyes.
"It's back," the Dari muttered softly, lifting one clawed, rat-like foot and scraping the sand nervously with it.
Another Dari looked over at DemChi. A slight frown formed about his rat-like muzzle. Bat-like ears and rat nose twitching, he disappeared into a tent. He soon reappeared with a massive hunk of meat. DemChi licked his lips eagerly, then began to pant, revealing sharp fangs.
"Will 'e bite again?" the female Dari asked nervously involuntarily rubbing an arm that DemChi did not remember biting.
"Hopefully not," The Dari with the meat replied.
DemChi scrambled over to the meat and sniffed it carefully. It was still raw and uncooked. He looked up at the Dari nervously, as if afraid it may be snatched away from him. The Dari dropped it at DemChi's feet, and DemChi took it in his thin hands eagerly.
"See? Just don' try ta take it back," the male Dari told the female.
"'E seems wild," the female muttered.
"And 'e's 'urt," The male replied. "Again. I'm goin' ta go get 'im a potion."
DemChi watched the male Dari leave. Quickly he began to eat the meat, afraid that someone may try to take it from him. Noting that he was eating so fast he may choke, the female approached carefully.
"Don' eat so—"The female began.
DemChi snarled warningly, backing away with the meat. Yelping with surprise, the female leapt backward. DemChi, seeming satisfied, resumed eating. The other Dari watched the situation with confusion, some with disgust. Most did not interfere, particularly when the male Dari came through with a potion. Slowly the male approached, causing DemChi to growl.
"'Ush, I 'ave somethin' for ya," the male said, holding out a potion. "Drink this. It'll 'elp ya... I know ya understand. Come on."
DemChi looked at the potion nervously, then up at the Dari. He put down the meat, then slowly crawled over to the potion. He quickly snatched it and ran back over to the unfinished meat. He resumed eating the meat, yet kept the potion nearby protectively. The male Dari nodded slightly in approval, but many of the other Dari looked disgusted.
"E's such an abomination. Why do ya 'elp such an abomination?" one Dari spat. "'E's ugly, 'e's stupid, and 'e's dangerous. I say we kill 'im."
DemChi whimpered, understanding these hurtful words. Upset, and no longer thinking, he saw the many people agreeing and nodding their heads. He looked down at the quarter of meat left. He looked down at the potion. Then, with a wail, he ran away, not noting the male Dari talking.
He ran away from the tents, tears in his eyes. In his mind, the simplest thing registered, yet probably the most truthful. Everyone hated him. He didn't understand why, but everyone seemed to hate him and hurt him.
The Demon Queen and Julius came into sight, both eating a fallen animal that the Demon Queen had managed to catch. DemChi approached carefully, whimpering. Julius picked up a rock, aimed, and threw it at DemChi. Unable to dodge in time, DemChi was hit in the forehead. With a pained snarl, the child curled into a ball, shaking. The Demon Queen didn't say anything, simply chuckled and kept on eating.
DemChi looked up, wondering what was next. But he didn't see a rock, or a punch. He instead saw Julius' proud smirk, the smirk of victory. The smirk Julius wore showed that the child was glad he had hurt DemChi. He was happy to cause pain and to hurt.
With another whimper, DemChi curled up into a ball, hoping to catch a few minutes sleep before Julius came back for more "play".
= There are two families in the world: broken and together. Treno consists of all broken and no together. You get the fools who meet in the run-down bar, get together, have a kid, and THEN realize that they're not perfect for each other. 50% of the time the two were drunk when they met, and kept getting drink. Or, in my case, the guy was always drunk and the girl was too stupid to realize it. So then I get into the picture. And THEN they realize they aren't compatible, but have to stay together for me.
Goody.
-- Amarant = Year 1781
The light in the room was dim, barely able to light the room. A single lantern, containing a half-used candle, lied on a small, wooden table near an old bed that had no billow, but one dirty, white sheet. The lantern cast spooky shadows on the dreary, rotting wooden walls. The floor was dirty as well, and also beginning to rot. The whole room smelled badly. Cobwebs covered the ceiling. A dusty bookshelf, full of books, lied at the very end of the room. One book was missing, a book about monks and training.
Salamander Coral was reading it. The seven-year-old was lying on the old bed, propping himself up with his elbows so he could read the old book. He didn't notice the smell of the room, mainly because he was so used to it. His dark eyes were glued to the book. His curly red hair was managing to keep out of his face.
Absorbed in his book, Salamander didn't notice the growling of his stomach, nor the stench of the room. He read about the techniques of noble monks, like his father – Or so he thought. A light, interested smile coming over the child's face, Salamander reread the sentence he had recently read.
Putting a piece of old fabric on the page he was on, Salamander closed the book. He swung out of the bed, then looked around for a target. He soon saw the old vase that his mother kept forgetting to sell. Brightening that he had found a target, Salamander walked eagerly over the vase. He then paused, remembering how his mother had told him not to break it no matter what.
Then he remembered that his father always broke everything anyway, so it shouldn't matter.
Suddenly Salamander's leg swung out, delivering a sharp kick to the vase. The vase shattered and went soaring off the table. The broken pieces were soon strewn across the dirty floor. Salamander watched with surprise as the remains of the pieces landed in various places. He looked down at his leg, amazed that he could contain that much power in one kick. Eager to read more, the large child dashed back over to the bed, jumped on it, then threw the book back open and resumed reading.
It was hard for most to believe that Salamander had originally not wanted to be a monk. He had wanted to be a fighter, yes, but more along the lines of a knight. He wanted to travel to Alexandria and join the Knights of Pluto, but his father had quickly rejected his wish. He instead dragged his child to the group of monks that lived in the mountains near Treno. Quickly accepted as a good student despite his father's failure, Salamander soon was learning the ways of a noble monk.
Now that he was used to it, Salamander was eager to learn how to chop wood in half with his hands, and how to use Chakra and the many other techniques. He read so much to learn how to do it. In fact, he was ahead of most children learning at his age. Master Tumis was impressed with the child's work, and it made Salamander beam with pride. He was happy when at monk training, and happy when home alone.
He wasn't happy when his parents were home.
Suddenly, just as Salamander was trying to flip the page of the book, the whole house shook, sending his book flying out the bed. Muttering angrily about having lost his spot, Salamander moved to pick up the book, but the whole house shook again. Sawdust fell from the ceiling, getting into Salamander's hair. Salamander could hear screaming upstairs.
"Not again," Salamander muttered bitterly.
Quickly Salamander grabbed the book and shoved it under the bed. He looked over at the broken vase with a panic, and dashed to pick up the pieces and hide them. Upstairs, the yelling continued, and something crashed against the kitchen floor.
Salamander knew it was only a matter of time before someone came downstairs, looking for him, and any reason to yell at him.
Salamander shoved the broken vase pieces under the bed just as the yelling abruptly stopped. A door slammed, and Salamander knew it to be the front door. Rising slowly to his feet, Salamander listened for sudden sounds. That was when he heard footsteps coming roughly down the stairs.
"What are you doing?" a drunk, male voice gurgled.
Salamander slowly turned around to find himself face-to-face with his father. His father's eyes were bloodshot, and Salamander could smell the beer on his breath. Salamander moved to back away, but his father grabbed his arm and prevented it.
"Aren't you supposed to be – Is that your mother's?!"
Salamander looked up at his father to see that he wasn't looking at him. Slowly he turned to see what his father was looking at. Salamander's heart immediately sank. His father was staring at one broken vase piece that Salamander had missed.
"You broke your mother's vase?!" Salamander's father roared, shoving Salamander backwards.
Salamander fell roughly to the ground. He looked up, met his father's gaze, and shouted, "It was an accident, I swear!"
"You're a poor liar," his father growled, approaching. "That vase was given to your mother by her own! It was a gift for her marriage! How dare you break it!"
"She planned on selling it anyway! What's the point?!" Salamander screamed angrily, rising to his feet.
A quick smack across the face was the response Salamander received. Salamander looked up at his father, only to see his father making a fist. Salamander dodged the oncoming punch, then swung outward and gave his father a kick. His father crumbled to the floor, but grabbed Salamander's leg when he tried to run. Salamander fell roughly to the floor.
"GET OFF ME!" Salamander screamed angrily, considering biting his father.
"First you break your mother's vase, then you dare bad-mouth me? You're asking to be kicked out, boy!" Salamander's father growled, his voice garbled from the beer.
"You're the one who has to go out and drink all the time!" Salamander snarled. "Maybe if you didn't drink so much, Mother wouldn't've considered selling the vase, and I wouldn't have to bad-mouth you!"
Salamander's father's eyes narrowed angrily. "How dare you assume what I have been doing!"
"Assume?! I know it! Mother always wails about it! Now get off ME!" Salamander snarled.
"You need a good punishing – DAMN IT!"
Salamander's father's speech was abruptly cut off when Salamander bit his hand. Releasing Salamander instinctively, Salamander's father snarled with pain and rage as Salamander scrambled to his feet. Salamander rushed by his drunken father, grabbed the large book out from under the bed, then dashed up the creaking, old wooden stairs. He soon entered the smelly kitchen to find it in disarray. Broken dishes were strewn across the floor, and the chairs at the table had been knocked over. A small chunk of the table was completely missing, and in crumpled pieces on the floor. Some blood was splattered on the floor. Part of the floor was sunken in, and the front door was hanging off one hinge.
Hearing his father stumbling on the stairs, Salamander dashed for the front door and shoved it open. The door fell off the final hinge from the force, and fell to the ground, sending Salamander with it. Salamander slammed into the stone street. Quickly scrambling to his feet, Salamander ignored his father's drunken garble. He simply dashed down the street, clutching the large book in his large hands.
Salamander didn't know how many minutes passed before he finally stopped running. Panting, he looked over the edge of the street, and found himself staring at the waters below. He looked up, and found himself near what he called the shop with the beast. No one walked the streets except for guards and a few drunkards. Salamander's father was no where in sight, nor was his mother.
Staring down at the water, Salamander sat down next to the railing. He wiped at the stray tears in his eyes. He refused to admit that he was crying. Monks didn't cry, or at least he didn't see any of them cry. Therefore, he assumed they didn't, and he assumed that to be a monk, he couldn't cry either.
Salamander examined the cover of the book. There were no pictures, merely golden words printed neatly in hand against a black background. The Glory of Monks. That was the name of the book. It showed all the techniques, the glory, the happiness... It was Salamander's escape from reality. It was his prized possession, even though it was actually his father's, not his. Yet his father hadn't looked at any of the books downstairs in years, or so Salamander's mother also moaned.
Carefully Salamander opened the book to a random page. The words "Self-defense for Beginning Monks" graced the top. Salamander smiled slightly at the irony. Just when he needed self-defense, the book flipped to it. Taking a deep breath, Salamander moved into a more comfortable position, making sure he was directly under the light of a glowing, well- maintained lantern hanging right above him.
Lifting his head one last time, Salamander made sure that he was truly alone. The night was quiet, except for the burble of voices Salamander could hear coming from the bar. He wondered grimly if his father had returned there, or if he had spent all the money again. Or perhaps his mother went there? Salamander didn't know, and he knew that he didn't care either.
Instead, he lowered his head back to The Glory of Monks, and began to read.
------- Here's my latest little experiment... Working with Amarant and Meander, the most cynical people of all time! Woo hoo. Anyway, I apologize if at times I may get OOC with Amarant... He's rather tricky to keep IC (at least for me). As for Meander... He's my creation, so if I get OOC with him, I have a problem OO Anyway, so that's all I have to say for now. Please tell me what you think (AKA: Comments, questions, suggestions)!
This story is copyright to me. Some characters, locations, and Gaia in general are copyright to SquareEnix.