Yay, I can actually see the reviews. That's all I have to say so, here's the next chapter.
I couldn't go to sleep that night, so I just paced around my room with a pencil at hand. As my thumb rubbed the white eraser of the mechanical pencil, I pondered on the many ideas flowing through me. The scene back at the black box theatre brought questions that would batter my brain around. It wasn't necessarily what she had said, no. It was the subtle inputs that intrigued me. The way her hand glided over her right shoulder after remarking about the scratch a bit over my eyebrow; it was the same shoulder that had been shot at. Only someone who was there would have known, and Vega wasn't anywhere near there...
"Unless..." I breathe, green eyes widening slightly, "No, she can't be... not Tori no." My mutterings didn't kick the spark in the mist of my thoughts, it only stood there rock solid. "There is no possible way that Vega is the 'Maned Wolf', absolutely none," my tone draws out. I didn't notice I had spoken out loud until I saw my mouth moving in the mirror. It wasn't like anyone would hear or care, it was in the middle of the night... early morning, in the middle of the early morning.
'If she was the wolf, where are all of her scars? And I have never seen a tattoo on her skin, not a drop of ink!' my inner voice rang, confused.
Ah, but that's the thing. Have you ever actually seen her back?
'She wears shirts that show her shoulders all the time, why wouldn't I?'
Which shoulder?
My feet abruptly halt in their pigeon circle. Brows furrow as I tap my foot as I flip through multiple memories with Vega's shirt lopsided, showing her shoulder. Her right shoulder, I smirk once I remembered what the brunette down the streets said. The tattoo was on the right. Though, my confident grin quickly plummets as I realize that I meant my right, her... Vega never showed her right shoulder. I sit down on my bed, thumbing over the eraser furiously as I glare at my bookcase.
Once, Vega had dropped her bag and caught her right sleeve. The bag fell and I laughed as she realized that her pottery bowl had cracked; Vega worked on that for weeks and took so much are for it that she wouldn't let anyone else hold it. Yet her sleeve was more important.
Andre had been playfully taking Vega's food and accidently pulled on her left sleeve, making the right slip. The half-Latina made a slightly angered noise before pulling the cloth back up, snatching her lunch out of the musician's hands, who was chuckling obliviously as I raised an eyebrow at Tori. There were several instances where that would occur, in one way or another.
Then there was the beach, Vega always had excuses for not joining the group. The most recent attempt was only a month or two ago. I sigh as I force myself to remember that minute of conversation.
All of us are here, except Rex whose a complete ass. Cat giggles at Robbie's strange, awkward joke and Beck has his arm around me as I rested my head on his shoulder. Across from me Vega sits on her couch, and Andre paces around after Beck suggest a group activity for the weekend. "The beach?" he murmurs, earning nods from Cat and Robbie, along with Beck.
"I don't want to go," I growled.
"Well, I'll go," my boyfriend muttered. I grimace, seeing no way out of this and fold my arms.
"What about you Vega?" The half-Latina jumped slightly at my sour tone, and shakes her head.
"Come on, why not? You seem to like doing stuff outside," Beck cocked his head, "We could have a lot more fun if you join."
Tori scratches her right shoulder unconsciously and answered, "I know, I do but... I don't like the beach, I'll have to agree with Jade on that one."
"Finally," I snorted, my eyes locking with Tori's, which seemed slightly relieved no that I thought about it. Green slides down her caramel neck and to her left, watching intrigued at the way the collar bone curved. I can feel my gaze soften as we make eye contact, hers questioning while mine turn away as the four decided what else to do.
I feel cool fingertips running over my own bone and jerk off as I noticed my pencil on the floor. My hand grasped the writing utensil as I feel a slight warmth spread across my cheeks, I didn't noticed I dropped it. "No, Tori Vega can't be her, because she wouldn't hurt a fly." A red pocket knife speeds through, slicing my conclusions.
"That was because I threw something at her, nothing else. She only threw hers at mine midair because of my outburst," I nod to myself. I feel pressure on my forehead as I frown, such a weird blade. I swore that it was a pocket knife but I've never seen one with a small wire hook at the end of it.
I shake my head vigorously, "No, how can Vega hurt anyone. I don't think she could even hurt a fly." I heave a sigh and stride over to the desk, blocking any thoughts about Vega. I needed to do something to get her out of my head, but everything I came up with just ended with a certain Latina. So my hand pulled out a college ruled notebook and my eyes set on it, matching the slight smile resting on my lips.
It was the only thing I had to do at that time on a Saturday morning. My pencil started scratching across the empty page following the filled previous one. Everything poured out while I wrote, as it always did.
I remember every single argument my dad and I had with my future. See, he's a business man and his travels is because of business. My dad eats, breathes and lives business. Now, it's not that I can't do what he does. In fact, I think it's because I can do what he does very well that he gets frustrated at my lack of enthusiasm.
So I began to write in notebooks with different stories in each. Unlike the skits and other stories I do for school, these ones have more emotion attached. Even though my dad accepted this future and Hollywood Arts, he still believes I hide behind the mask of my characters, the wall of the plot. Maybe I do, but it's how I can write creatively without ruining the story with these almost random descriptions that doesn't flow.
This one is by far my most personal, yet it is the one that hides me emotions well. Maybe too much so. This notebook was unconsciously meant to do just that I suppose. I based my structure and characters around the Brother's Grimm in order to keep my emotions hidden though, if you really looked in between the lines and listen to what's not being said, they're as plain as day.
The pencil stopped at it's track, only taking the time to place a period before it was set on the side. I took a deep breath and flipped to the first page, searching for details that I could bring once again at the page I was on. It read:
-o0o-
"Dusk had risen from it's rest, waiting to climb back under the covers of the soil around the city. For miles around the night shown grace and beauty, moonlight glimmering on the lakes below. Pale colors embraced their night sun, blooming gracefully as the stars rose from the heavens. Animals flourished in these lands, away from the grey cloud around the city. The grey cloud that many refused to go, refused to understand it's nature in order to save the young from it.
"All of them, the prancing foxes, the galloping horses, the scattering mice, the stalking cats... they all tried to escape the bitter world. And whenever animals would return from the city, animals would turn their backs, close their ears or give false smiles of acceptance. All it took was one look and they would dismiss those eyes as trouble. Those rust colored eyes that deemed mysteries, puzzles and, ultimately, patience.
"Two cats run from the ominous haze, searching for the bountiful forest. At one hour, a black cat scampers right into a den, immediately safe from the clouds behind her. She shakes her long raven fur and blinks, linking her chops before pouncing on a plump little mouse. It squeaked only for a second before it's head rolled off, eyes staring dully at nothing. white canines painted red continued to devour it's new prize, and the black cat stalked off to another side of the den and rested. Constantly it would find new prizes, new trophies to catch and she loved it. Sometimes, very few times, rust colored eyes would spot a fat lizard or bird outside, yet paws did not stalk over, because the den bade her not to. The comfort was too much, and the young tabby slept comfortably in the dens dirt walls.
"One day, another cat scampered off into the forest, searching for trophies herself. The black cat watched as a longer tabby strolled in cautiously, burnt brown fur gleaming hypnotically. A lizard attempted to slink passed the lean cat though claws soon ripped the flesh open, and as warm red spilled onto the ground, the reptile was indulged immediately. Prize after prize the brunette won, leaving the black cat to seethe inside it's comfortable shelter. Constantly the black tabby would hiss at the other, wanting to just climb out and fight the other off. Instead, the brown tabby fought back, unlike the many before that ran off from the black's warning.
"The raven cat knew for sure that the other wanted the shelter, though she wouldn't give it up. Day after day the brown tabby would ignore the screeches of hate until... Some days, the black tabby couldn't lay down comfortably in the den, it got too cold. Rust colored eyes gazed over at the tabby, who looked so warm and inviting. Paws lingered for a second before padding their way over to the other cat. For a night, they warmed each other up and once day had risen, the black tabby sprung immediately into her den, not taking the chance to look back.
"Weeks, no months go by before a moonlit night came, and the brown tabby gazed over at the den. Her head cocked smoothly out of curiosity as the black tabby gazed back. It was the first time both saw each other, truly saw each other. As they stared at each other, both were intrigued by their eyes, their matching eyes that branded them with a hidden mark that many ignored.
"Then the brown tabby whisked away, leaving the raven cat feeling a sudden urge to leap forward. To run after the other. Yet, the den remained just as persuasive, keeping the black cat with the feeling of regret, remorse and need. She began to pace around and scratched the walls of the den, tallying each and every time dirt was caught in her claws. The black cat wanted to leave the den, but she didn't want to feel the blistering chill in the exposed air. She didn't want to feel her fur prickle with apprehension. However, she needed that same warmth once again.
Vega smiled as she handed back the notebook. I lifted my gaze from my scuffing feet and grasp the pages nervously, "So..."
"I liked it, a lot Jade. You really have something with your writing." We both shared a small grin before the half-Latina continued, "Where do you come up with stuff like that? It doesn't sound like your other plays and such."
"Dunno, I guess I have more than just blood, guts and stuff in my brain."
"Well, I love this side of yo-your writing. I want to see it more often," Tori murmured before the bell rang, whisking her away.
-o0o-
I jerk awake, my eyes sliding over to the blue neon letters on my bedside table, 8:57. I frown as I close the notebook, my eyes not taking in the words even though my mind buzzed. My feet scramble around as I shove clothes on before heading out to do whatever I pleased.
Sorry for this shorter chapter, but I had a feeling I should end it here. Anyway, suppose that means more chapters which would equal the same amount or more to the story itself. Oh well, hope you enjoy ehil I enjoy my chocolate. :)