I woke up to a guy around my age, poking my. One thing was odd about him, he seemed to be made of blue stone and wire… but the most beautiful eyes. I groaned and muttered thick in accent, "Isn't this just grand…" I laughed lightly and muttered mostly to myself, "This is what I get for having one too many Jackies." I looked at him more intently this time and realized he was actually pretty good looking. I smiled and said, "I must be having one helluva hallucination."
The guy seemed unsure of what I said. No surprise since most don't get what an Irish accent is on most days. "Why is that?" he cautiously asked, obviously hoping he got what I said…
"Because," I started and then thinned out the brough and continued in a more American accent. "I finally get Tim Burton when he said, 'That person would look good blue.' Tell me, lad…"
He silently interrupted my as his cheeks grew purple and his pointy ears pulled down and back.
I whispered, "Oh, wow. You really are blue!"
He shook his head, leaned back and sat on his rump, one leg spread in front of him, the other bent, resting an arm on his knee. "This is what I get for doing my good deed of the day…." He continued on about how people shouldn't judge so harshly and quickly.
"So, do I have to beat some sense into you or are you actually gonna listen to me?" I asked in serious tone, sitting up, watching him with my golden eyes.
"What?" he asked. He seemed frustrated with having to ask what so many times.
"You're not used to having to listen to accents, are you, lad?"
"What's an accent?"
I blinked and pointed to my mouth, "This is an accent."
"Your mouth?" he asked, now really confused. His cheeks started purpling again.
"Mouth?" I asked. "No, not my gab, my voice, you eejit. Notice how I'm saying things in a different pattern?"
He nodded.
"That's an accent! Jezus, Mary, and Joseph… gah!" I said and then was the one who was grumbling to self.
He tilted his head and said calmly, "I think you need to be get looked at."
"Oh, hell no!" I declared and started crab-walking backwards away from him. "I'm not going to any hospital. I'll DIE before I go to another hospital!"
"Hospital?" he asked. What the hell is a hospital? Better question, what happened to this woman?
I smirked and asked in a slightly thicker accent, "You were at the end of the line when they were handing out intelligence, weren't you boy?"
Now, about anyone could tell that was an insult, even if they didn't understand what I said. "Excuse me?" he nearly screeched.
I smiled, "Why should I? I like to keep pretty things around… even if they're not too bright."
"I'm not an idiot," he growled.
I laughed and contorted, "Well, you've got me fooled. Tell me, oh pretty and 'wise' one. Wmye am I going?" I stood up, shaded my eyes against the sun, looking around. It was then he noticed my nails were a glossy black, I wore weird clothes both clung and avoided my body. Tmye were strange symbols on my clothing… and my body. My wrists wore thin black bracelets and I wore black versions of his gloves. He also noticed that it seemed as if someone unsuccessfully hooked my in a fishing accident and I replaced the hook with a half ring "Well?" I asked and pulled my messy and multi-toned hair up in a short pony tail, revealing a couple of piercings on my right ear cartilage and the tattoos on my forearms.
"WE are going to get you healed," he said, still observing the odd character.
"Ahh, isn't that cute," I mocked. "Just point me to a place I can get some food, a place to sleep, and a way back to where I'm from and I'll leave you alone."
He growled and picked me up, "I said, we. I don't let people who are hurt fend for themselves."
"I'm not hurt! Now, let me go!" I yelled and swung a swift right hook that earned my a broken hand. "AHHH! What the hell?"
"If you weren't before, now you are hurt…" he said, smirking.
"Just let me go and I won't kill you!" I screeched.
He chuckled, looking at my now in a controlled angle. I was a unique piece of work, whatever I was. He was almost hypnotized by trying to figure my out when he felt one of my Conversed feet push at his chest. "Can I help you?"
"Yeah, you can stop restraining me," I answered, laughed, and continued. "Ya know some are really into this but, em… I'm not that kind of maniac."
"What if I don't want to risk another near fatal blow like last time?" he asked me and smirked.
I glared and snarked, "Oh, ha ha!" I stretched myself out trying to get some give from his grasp, sighed, stopping for a few seconds and then returning to my effort, practically growling under the strain. "Lemme go!"
"Why should I?" he practically laughed, then dropped my as a flash of sliver shone across his line of sight. He found that I wasn't joking about the maniac comment. "What the…?"
"Hi, this is Timothy," I held my barber's blade aimed at his throat. "I wasn't joking about killing you."
"Hello, Timothy," he said. Something told him that even with a small and odd blade like that, I was deadly even to a powerful being like him."Now, I'm not going to hurt you. I told you, I just want to help you… "
I eased up a bit, still ready for any sneak attacks, but relaxed enough to answer calmly, "Benny Burton."
"I Burton?" he asked, looked at me, and then to my eyes again. "I'm Zelgadis Greywords."
"Zelgadis Greywords?" I asked and put away Timothy into his sheath on my hip, under my long black wool smoking jacket styled sweater. "And, you think Benny Burton is a weird name?"
"Well, around here, that's not a common name," Zelgadis admitted, turning an indigo on his cheeks.
"Well, I'm from your name is highly unusual," said I.
Zelgadis sized my up again, considering whether helping me would be a mistake or a blessing. "Where is that?"
"Chicago," I answered bluntly.
"Ah, never heard of it. That explains that… accent. Am I right?" he said.
"Well, no. Actually, that's because I'm Irish… well, half Irish…"
"What's an Irish?"
"A whole mess of insanity, temper, wit, and being bull-headed…"
"Oh? So, it's a group of traits? You can't have half-traits."
I sighed and covered my eyes, "This is going to be a long day."