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    A Boy Now a Monster (Private/Famine)

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    Ahote

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    A Boy Now a Monster (Private/Famine)

    Post by Ahote on 19th November 2017, 2:41 pm


    Lately, Ahote had built up more courage to explore beyond Mt. Hakobe for missions and jobs fitting for him. Unfortunately, each time he would have to either pass through the settlement at the foot of the mountain and get those jobs from the settlers, who didn't treat him very well. They gave him what Ahote would consider the worst possible treatment a human being could give another without engaging in a fight. They would spit at him, toss rocks, call him every dirty and vulgar word Ahote had in his vocabulary and would even go as far as belittling and disrespecting his parents. The boy eventually realized that their hatred was for Famine and Sol, the people who allegedly owned this mountain, but instead channeled and vented their resentment to their son, who apparently had been spoiled silly since his arrival, while they, the settlers, froze at the foot of the territory. At first, Ahote had offered his sympathies and spent more time with the settlers with labor and engaging in conversation, but most remained hostile.

    As much as Ahote told himself to remain strong and to not let their words and actions get to him, the paranoia he felt grew, and the hatred they held for him slowly became mutual. How far would they go today? Would it just be rocks? Would they go as far as killing him? Each time he passed through the settlement, these questions came afloat upon a sea of doubt and worry he had been swimming in for so long.

    However, on a specific day of the week was the arrival date of a product he had requested, and had to go in to get it. Ahote made it a goal to make his trip quick and quiet, not wanting to interact with anyone while he made his way to and back. However, maybe on Ahote's part, that was wishful thinking. The first face he would see was the face he always saw when he entered the settlement. A man named Angus Gweller, an alcoholic who apparently was unemployed and could always be found sitting on a pile of barrels and crates behind a motel. Angus, being the first face Ahote always saw, was always the one to spit fire at him first.

    Ahote kept his head down and hastened his walk, attempting to avoid any contact with him. Just get my stuff and go, Ahote. C'mon. . . he thought to himself, feeling his breathing becoming quick and his eyes becoming wide with a mixture of emotion.

    "Ey, boy-o. That ain't how you greet 'yer elders, is it? Why don't 'cha say hello?" Angus sneered with his set of yellow, missing teeth. Ahote continued to walk by him, anxious by his rough, guttural voice. Angus sniffled and frowned before speaking louder, "Hey, I'm 'talkin to you, waste of space!" He took his rough, cracked fingers and lunged a cold, hard stone at the raven haired boy, striking him on his jaw.

    Ahote flinched and quickly raised a hand to hold his jaw, stopping in his tracks and only peering over to look at the grinning man. His eyes became those of a hateful boy, no longer those of an anxious and afraid one. He leaned down to pick up the stone, carefully observing the tip which struck him. Carefully looking at the blood it drew from his white, untouched skin. A flame of fury began to light within his chest. "I. . . I have a name, you know. You need to call me by my name." Ahote stressed, beginning to tremble upon his fingertips delicately groping the cut on his jaw.

    "Name, huh? The little bastard who eats well and sleeps even better at nights while us hard-working fellas have to freeze our asses off for you? Sure, I'll call you by your name, lil brat!" Angus threw another stone at him, this time hitting his concealed shoulder. The raven haired boy pressed his lips tightly together and balled up his fists, turning his entire body to face him.

    "Stop that! I was just passing through!" He demanded, rubbing his shoulder. Despite his pleas, the rocks continued to fly, and groups of people peeked out of their windows to witness the scene. Ahote felt the bruises begin to cover his upper body, his patience crawling away with each stone hitting his skin.

    I can't do this anymore. . . I'm tired of these people and letting them run me over with a problem I didn't create. . . I didn't choose to be here, and it's not my fault that whatever Mother and Father did to them was so terrible. Why take it out on me? Is it because they know I won't do anything? I'm weak, I'm very weak. . . I'm a coward. I let them run all over me and won't tell anyone a damn thing about it. . . I'm sick of it. . . I'm sick of it.
    . . I'm sick of it. . .! I hate it! My skin, my heart, my feelings. . . all being stomped on and treated like cow shit! I'll show him. . . I'll show him. . .!
    Ahote chanted to himself while leaning down to pick up the biggest stone he could fit in his hands.

    "Eh? Whatcha gonna do, little guy? Tell me to stop or you'll tell on me? Bwahaha! What a joke! Bwahaha. . .!" Angus slapped his knee and burst into a laughter.

    I'll crush him. . . I'll smash all of his remaining teeth out and have him apologize with his bloody gums. . . I'll crush him. . . he has no right to. . . to stop me. . . I'll. . . Ahote raised his arm and glared at the man, distracted in his own laughter. Ahote's chest felt like it was filled with liquid, a hatred that made his cheeks burn.

    "Bwahahaha! Little boy! Little boy!" Angus nearly choked on his own laughter, not realizing what was to soon become of him.

    I'm sick of it. . . I'm sick of it. . . I'm sick of it. . . I'm sick of it. . . I'm sick of it. . . I'm sick of it. . . I'm sick of it. . . I'm sick of it. . . I'm sick of it. . . I'm sick of it. . . I'm sick of it. . . Ahote's head became nothing but his convincing himself that he deserved this. That what was coming to Angus was set out for him when he first picked up the rock. But before Ahote could regain patience, before he could tell himself that it wasn't worth it, the rock had left his hands and zoomed through the air to strike the man in his left temple.

    ". . .!!!" Angus said nothing, but simply grunted, falling off the crate and into the snow, where he would twitch and squirm around in pain. Ahote took no time before walking over to him, straddling the man, and grabbing the bloody rock and smash it into his head again, and again, and again. . .

    "Hyah! Gyah!" Ahote glared down at the man in a blind rage, smashing his forehead and temples and nose and everything else included on his face while Angus could only scream, and eventually stopped moving.

    I'm sick of it! How does it feel?! This pain?! You had it coming! Are you
    sick of it? Do you feel like dying?! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of it all! I hope he suffers, I hope he feels all the pain! I'm SICK of it!
    Ahote continued to think to himself as he resumed bashing the man's skull in with his crimson red rock, his white skin now stained with blood, as well with his hoodie that he normally wore. The fight continued, before Ahote realized Angus had died the moment he threw the rock, and had only been beating and tearing apart a corpse for the past few minutes until his anger and anxiety had been pacified, and he had finally be relieved of his malice towards him.

    Ahote froze, panting with the rock in hand, staring blindly at the lifeless corpse he had been straddling. "I. . . I. . ." Ahote stuttered before a rush of vomit projected through his mouth and into the red snow, quickly followed by a single stream of tears. The raven haired boy grabbed his locks with his vomit and blood covered fingers, realizing that families and children had been staring at him wit prying eyes when witnessing the murder. His mind became blank, getting up from the body and running back to the fortress, into his room, and locked himself away from everyone for a week.

    Days had passed with Ahote sitting on his bed, staring at the stone walls. All of his candles were never lit, and the most he ate were apple slices. A picture reminiscence of the familiar scene in the infirmary upon his first arrival. He said nothing, did nothing, felt nothing at times. But sometimes, when succumbing to his own thoughts, deeper thoughts, the boy would mutter:

    "I. . . I killed him. . ."


    Last edited by Ahote on 26th November 2017, 11:43 am; edited 1 time in total


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    Famine
     
     

    Developer/GFX Artist- Knight VIP Status- VIP- Quality Badge Level 1- Quality Badge Level 2- Quality Badge Level 3- Coming Storms- Guild Master- Dark Guild Ace- Rich- Veteran Level 2- Veteran Level 1- Character Application Approved!- Magic Application Approved!- Complete Your First Job!- Join A Faction!- Obtain A Lineage!- Get A Pet!- The Being- Master [1000]- Senior [500]- Novice [250]- 1st Place Event/Contest Winner- 2nd Place Event/Contest Winner- X-Mas Event Participant- Weapon of Apocalypse Wielder- Have Alye On Your Friends List- 1 Year Anniversary- Player -
    Lineage : Ice Cold
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    Guild : Guild Master - Basilisk Fang
    Cosmic Coins : 54
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    Age : 18
    Mentor : Eris
    Experience : 4345
    Brownie Points : -777

    Character Sheet
    Character Name: Famine
    Primary Magic: Shadow Make
    Secondary Magic: Arc of Time

    Re: A Boy Now a Monster (Private/Famine)

    Post by Famine on 20th November 2017, 8:13 pm





    Die A Hero, Or Live Long Enough To See Yourself Become The Villain



    Days Earlier, Neutral Grounds, Abandoned Laboratory

    --
    Famine hardly took a moment to catch her breath after darting into the side room and out of the hall with Sol. Man… did that make her dizzy? Whirling back around in the dimness, her attention snapped back to the door that was still open and left askew, massive footfalls thumping closer. By the time she’d approached the lab door to push it shut a big bear paw with tangled curly brown and blood matted fur had already stuck itself through the door’s side. Was that little headache getting worse? --Focus focus…! Her teeth grit and greater physical confusion befell the mage. Time was turning backward in Famine’s head, her vision was blurring and new images from the future were already assaulting her mind. White snow, up to her calves rather than her ankles as though she was seeing something through someone’s eyes that were shorter. Famine pressed her back against the door now desperately not trying to loose her hold on the present moment, digging her heels into the cold tile beneath her and pressing her shoulders back against it hard. [/i] a village, she knew this one from the mountain. The beast claws hanging out of the door swiped down against her shoulders and arm, tearing open the back of her black clothes around one of her shoulder blades, making the white serpent head of her guild visible under the line of blood that rolled down her shoulder and back.

    Pain-- It was a familiar feeling enough. She felt the burning at her temple intensify even though she hadn’t been wounded at her head it felt so stones that had been dug up from the snow and kept on a porch for the opportune time. Then the scent of blood, all too familiar sound of crackling bone and cartilage.

    Famine found herself abruptly screaming the name of her son when she slammed her back against the door with enough force to sever the paw which wasn’t left oozing blood but pouring cotton stuffing. When the door was shut relief fell over her once she snapped the lock but it was too soon to celebrate. She was already shaking out of nerve. Famine wasn’t worried about the little bit of a wound she’d gotten that wasn’t healing right away but she fussed over what she’d seen had troubled her and would only worry herself more throughout the whole rest of the trip and task.
    ---

    Present Day, Basilisk Fang

    Famine never liked to show that she was concerned… She prided herself highly on being that stone cold bitch that kept this organization together in this stronghold for so long with the mere force of her will. -But everyone had a tangible center. Famine’s was a bot. It was the feeling that Ahote was not in capable hands back home, that he’d been put in danger, hurt, or worse. The thought of it made herself ill with worry throughout the rest of her trip; shakes paired with the cold sweats and a knot in her stomach. It was that worry that could've gotten her killed by the creatures in the laboratory several times, and it was the hope that Ahote would be fine when she made it back to the mountain that got her through it.

    Late that night the hinges of the fortresses doors squealed in disapproval, icicles snapped from above the iron door jam and breaking on the concrete floor. A breeze that chilled everyone who it touched to the bone whirled into the dark, and desolate gathering hall. To Famine, she couldn’t get home soon enough. She dismissed herself from Sol whom she’d returned with and tracked down the first Basilisk they could find and ordered to know the whereabouts of Ahote.

    Thankfully, she was informed that he was just was up in his bedroom, not that he'd been injured or been lost in any way shape or form. What Famine didn't' know was that it didn't mean he wasn't injured mentally, or that he'd injured another being in her absence. One hand at the railing, and another attempting to work off the tight bandage on her arm. The seer headed briskly up the steps and laid her hand against the cold guardrail and the occasional puff of frost blew from between cracked lips as she made her ascent and then strode down the hall on the next level. Narrowed eyes scanned over every nearly identical door until she stopped at one in particular.

    She’d mentally trained herself to remember this one exactly. Famine had taken in every little detail, the way the paint had chipped and the doorknob hung a little looser in the structure of the door than the rest. Maybe she paid attention so much to this particular door because she found herself standing outside of it so often when she talked herself out of knocking. But now she had to knock. Her pale skinned knuckle rapped the surface of the wood which would leave her in a moment of silence, desperately awaiting a response of any kind.

    @Topic
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    Ahote

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    Posts : 200
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    Re: A Boy Now a Monster (Private/Famine)

    Post by Ahote on 21st November 2017, 5:58 pm


    How much time had passed since Ahote’s mistake? At day three, he stopped keeping track and decided to wallow in his own depression and anxiety until he was either forced out of his room or left on his own accord.

    The idea of being isolated in a dark, cold room for days without any human interaction and willingly living off of only apple slices and water was normally frightening by any other person. But to this boy? To this boy, it was simply a place to contain his thoughts. These stone walls, this scratched desk, these unlit candles, the dusty windows, the unkempt rugs, and soft bedding and bouncy mattress, only they would know what terror the boy was experiencing.

    The boy killed him, and continued to beat him until he was bloody and broken when he was nothing but a lifeless corpse, not stopping until his anger was relieved. It was still difficult for him to believe it himself, but the vivid, colorful images continuously reminded him of what he had done. What he had said. What he had felt.

    His eyelids were heavy with the burden of restless nights, and would reek of sweat and iron from showerless days and the lingering scent of men’s blood. Bags developed underneath his golden eyes, a careful reminder that every time he closed his eyes, Angus’s bashed, bloody skull and small teeth flying out of his mouth came to mind. The result of Ahote’s unresolved hatred dead before him. He really was a monster. But the most frightening epiphany of it all was that Ahote was okay with it, and broke into a fountain of tears realizing that for a moment, even if it were brief, the boy felt nice in doing it. It felt good gripping the stone until his skin was bruised, and smashing it into human flesh until it cracked and broke into a bloody mess. The scent of iron tickled his nose and flushed his cheeks and ears red from the sudden rush of emotion. In that time, Ahote didn’t bother to look at what he was doing, and was swallowed in his own thoughts, not stopping until he was relieved of the heart wrenching anger that cursed him. Was he just a violent little boy who got off in watching his abusers suffer? Or was he an innocent child who lost the hope of an ideal and fluffy childhood by defending himself when no others would? Was he a monster for this? Ahote thought so.  

    As days went by and thoughts came and went, Ahote drifted into a more melancholy, quiet despair. His night terrors and loud bawling descended into silent weeps and cold sweats. His self destructive tendencies, such as digging his nails so deep into his palm that it drew blood, became him staring at his bloody hands for hours on end. Eventually, the boy no longer cried, no longer screamed, no longer harmed himself. Instead, he thought. He thought, and thought, and thought until it hurt his head.

    Ahote sat in the corner of his bed, hugging a pillow while staring blankly down at the dirty sheets. Am I a murderer now? I guess I would be. . . I'm a terrible, terrible person. . . how. . . how could I feel so good about it? Do I even feel good about it? Maybe I'm making excuses for killing an old man. . . I'm terrible. . . I'm terrible. . . I'm terrible. . . I'm terrible. . . Ahote repeated until he trembled in fear of his own self. But this chain of thought was abruptly interrupted when the gentle and quiet knocks echoed in his ears. The boy lifted his head with weary eyes glaring at the door.

    "I told you guys that I'm fine. . . just leave the food by the door. . ." Ahote spoke quietly in his hoarse, choked voice, but loud enough for his message to slip beyond the wooden door. But the presence did not leave, and by Ahote's strange chills, remained idle at the door.

    Angry, he tiredly tossed himself off of his mattress and dragged himself to the door with balled fists. Swiftly, he wrapped his soft fingers around the knob before pulling the door inward enough reveal both persons on each side in full.

    "I told you guys, I don't want any--. . .!!" Ahote's agitated demands were silenced into hushed nothings. Tears nearly began to well up in the back of his eyes, a stinging pain rushing into his head. But despite his desire to break into tears, his skin did not so much become wet. "M-Mom. . ." Ahote sputtered.

    What the hell is this? Some cruel punishment from some sort of God?
    How can I face her being who I am now. . . how? I can't even look her in the eye. . . what do I say? How do I say it? What should I think? She won't ever look at me the same way. . . she won't ever look at a murderer the same way. . .
    Ahote began to tremble, biting his lip to prevent himself from panting. The raven haired boy convinced himself to try and behave as he normally did, though his body shaking noticeably.

    "I. . . didn't know you w-were home, Mom. . . I, uhm. . . I. . ." Ahote struggled to find the composure to speak as he normally did, and found himself descending closer and closer to crying. He felt himself slowly succumbing to his desire to embrace his mother, and tell her everything that happened. But who would want such bloodied hands wrapped around them, especially from the monster who felt good in getting them bloody?

    A forced smiled cracked Ahote's face, quivering lips and eyes which looked to be in pain from holding back the urge to cry, but with no tears to shed. His ears and nose became flushed with blood, and stood there, struggling to speak.


    Last edited by Ahote on 26th November 2017, 11:44 am; edited 1 time in total


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    Famine
     
     

    Developer/GFX Artist- Knight VIP Status- VIP- Quality Badge Level 1- Quality Badge Level 2- Quality Badge Level 3- Coming Storms- Guild Master- Dark Guild Ace- Rich- Veteran Level 2- Veteran Level 1- Character Application Approved!- Magic Application Approved!- Complete Your First Job!- Join A Faction!- Obtain A Lineage!- Get A Pet!- The Being- Master [1000]- Senior [500]- Novice [250]- 1st Place Event/Contest Winner- 2nd Place Event/Contest Winner- X-Mas Event Participant- Weapon of Apocalypse Wielder- Have Alye On Your Friends List- 1 Year Anniversary- Player -
    Lineage : Ice Cold
    Position : None
    Posts : 1316
    Guild : Guild Master - Basilisk Fang
    Cosmic Coins : 54
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Age : 18
    Mentor : Eris
    Experience : 4345
    Brownie Points : -777

    Character Sheet
    Character Name: Famine
    Primary Magic: Shadow Make
    Secondary Magic: Arc of Time

    Re: A Boy Now a Monster (Private/Famine)

    Post by Famine on 23rd November 2017, 1:24 pm





    Die A Hero, Or Live Long Enough To See Yourself Become The Villain



    Evidently, after a moment alone with her quickly beating heart and the outside of the door as her only company Famine still remained in silence.  Perhaps he had fallen asleep or maybe Ahote hadn’t heard her--She knew he hadn't been sleeping all too well. The seer lifted her knuckle back to the door as she went through a mental tug of war whether or not to try again. However, before she decided to hit the surface again or to leave a sound came from the other side.

    Azure pools cast down to her painted toes which curled anxiously against the cool concrete floor. It was clear since she’d neglected to announce her presence that the rough but young voice on the other side misidentified her. Should Famine speak up, or should she leave him be if he wished to be alone? She had to of asked herself that same question a hundred times this last month. But the image’s she had seen: blood on the snow and that heavy stone in smooth white hands like a weapon made reminded her of sickness and made her urgent to clarify Ahote’s safety.

    Sure, from the sound of it he was alive but if he’d been hurt in the slightest whoever neglected to supervise him would pay dearly. Famine flinched moving a pace back from the door when she heard shuffling inside, the creaking of a bed and hard footfalls. The voice became clear as the door abruptly flew open in front of her, doorknob-to-wall.

    Ahote, who cut himself off mid stammer when he locked eyes with her. Eyes that she saw that were still ever so bright in hue but clearly unrested. She saw his expression scrunch slightly as it always did in the presence of his emotions. A striking in contrast to Famine who could often maintain a flat though not harsh visage... but this time she actually looked something: relieved in the way her brows lifted and her gaze inspected him. Soon, another expression would befall her.

    She stepped inside, the door without so much as a creak rewound quickly back to its closed state before Ahote had opened it, not even his fresh fingerprints would be present anymore but the door was shut behind her now.

    That new expression was concern.

    Famine noticed where his skin bruised where the pressure of fingernails must have bitten into the skin on his hands and arms from holding himself too damn tightly. But, why? The Familiar scent of copper that Famine had grown well acquainted to lingered not only in the room but upon him. Crimson had dried upon his forehead, his sleeves, and his hands into an auburn shade. Sapphire Irises widened as they investigated this information.

    “I had just gotten back...” Famine breathed, unsure if she got the point across that she’d just returned. She moved across the room, pulling cautious eyes away from the boy but a moment she stepped around the room seeing if she could find anything amiss. Nothing… but of course, Ahote who was rather disheveled. Famine sat down on top of his mattress and crossed her legs under herself, not minding the covers that were twisted beneath her. “Come here,” she asked him, a palm out wanting to see his hands--the real and the unreal. Famine had a way of maintaining composure… but she still struggled sometimes. Just as Ahote was struggling to hold back his own tears and release whatever was plaguing him. Famine had to swallow her thanks to the gods that and answered her prayer to keep Ahote safe and she fought herself from holding onto him right in the doorway too.

    @Topic
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    Ahote

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    Posts : 200
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    Re: A Boy Now a Monster (Private/Famine)

    Post by Ahote on 23rd November 2017, 5:54 pm

    He was normally pleased and excited to see Famine after she returned from extensive trips by herself or with Sol and was often curious about her travels, stories she may be able to tell, her exciting adventures. But now? Ahote's sense of time froze and everything stopped. Ahote's usual eagerness ceased to be since recently, as nothing could drive him out of his state of despair and confusion. He knew this day would come, when he would eventually be forced out of his little den and into this scenario. In the back of his head, he had been preparing himself for this moment, but his body still trembled and a cold sweat layered his body. His heartbeat, his quick and clumsy breaths, the very hairs on his skin seemed all so very apparent to Ahote. He felt as if his chest would explode in any instance from this overwhelming tension. He wanted to vomit with an empty stomach, and hugged his chest anxiously.

    The raven haired boy turned his back to the door and would look at his visiting parent's feet as they made way around the space as he couldn't look her in the eye and watched her attentively, nervously, afraid of what she might touch. He wanted nothing to change, nothing to meet the soft fingers of another. Although there was nothing in this room that suggested that Ahote might have done anything questionable, he felt self conscious of any and all of his objects. Nothing was to be moved, nothing was to be touched, nothing at all. For his own stability.  

    "I, uhm. . . how was your trip?" Ahote spoke in a rushed, loud voice in an attempt to hide the anxiety within it. He fiddled with his fingers and pressed his palms together, trying to physically occupy himself with all of these things in mind.

    She knows. She knows. I've been caught. . . I'll be taken to the dungeons for killing him. . . it's not my fault. . . it's not my fault! Everyone can drink my piss before I let them make me believe what I did was wrong! He deserved it! Pick on someone his own size,
    has he never heard of that saying?! I did nothing wrong. . . I did nothing wrong. . . I did nothing wrong. . .
    Ahote thought to himself, feeling himself being pushed into a corner just with Famine's presence.

    As much as the boy wanted to scream at Famine in a mixture of swelling emotion, he held onto the hope that perhaps she did not know what he had done just a week ago, and why he had been so nervous and fidgety. Ahote rose his head when his Mother beckoned to him, dragging himself over to her with weak, shaking legs, feeling as though he may drop at any second and hesitantly held out both his hands for her to investigate.

    Why am I scared? She won't be able to think anything bad of me if she doesn't know. . . I love her so, so very much and I don't know what I'll do if she. . . if. . . Ahote could feel the tears begin to well up on the fine line between eyeball and eyelid, struggling to keep them from gushing down and pushing him into a state of a crying child. He tried and tried so hard he did, but all for naught when a single tear begin to climb its way down his cold cheeks, to his chin, and onto Famine's lap. One tear it was, but quickly it was followed by two, then three, several and many accompanied it until his vision was blurred and his cheeks were red. I did nothing wrong. . . I did nothing wrong. . . I did nothing wrong. . . I did nothing wrong. . . I did nothing wrong. . . I did nothing wrong. . . I did nothing wrong. . . I did nothing wrong. . . Ahote tried to convince himself, beginning to sniffle and whimper. There was no stopping the tears now, even though he continued to try. He wanted Famine to continue to embrace him with the same warmness she has since she brought him here. He still wanted to believe he was innocent and had no cares in the world, much less responsibilities. He wanted to eat without imagining the cracked and bloody skin of Angus, and wanted to believe he wasn't some violent, unstable kid who kills old men. He wanted to believe that what he did was right, and that he was only trying so very hard to hurt him so he wouldn't do it again in the future. He wanted to believe that he didn't really take pleasure in feeling the stone shatter the bone. He wanted to, he really, truly did. But his last defenses had crumbled under the pressure, and underneath the cold exterior of a boy who shut himself in for days to wallow in his own sadness was now a fourteen-year-old kid who just wanted some understanding.

    I did something wrong.




    Last edited by Ahote on 26th November 2017, 11:44 am; edited 1 time in total


    ___________________________________________________________________
    avatar
    Famine
     
     

    Developer/GFX Artist- Knight VIP Status- VIP- Quality Badge Level 1- Quality Badge Level 2- Quality Badge Level 3- Coming Storms- Guild Master- Dark Guild Ace- Rich- Veteran Level 2- Veteran Level 1- Character Application Approved!- Magic Application Approved!- Complete Your First Job!- Join A Faction!- Obtain A Lineage!- Get A Pet!- The Being- Master [1000]- Senior [500]- Novice [250]- 1st Place Event/Contest Winner- 2nd Place Event/Contest Winner- X-Mas Event Participant- Weapon of Apocalypse Wielder- Have Alye On Your Friends List- 1 Year Anniversary- Player -
    Lineage : Ice Cold
    Position : None
    Posts : 1316
    Guild : Guild Master - Basilisk Fang
    Cosmic Coins : 54
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Age : 18
    Mentor : Eris
    Experience : 4345
    Brownie Points : -777

    Character Sheet
    Character Name: Famine
    Primary Magic: Shadow Make
    Secondary Magic: Arc of Time

    Re: A Boy Now a Monster (Private/Famine)

    Post by Famine on 25th November 2017, 8:15 pm





    Die A Hero, Or Live Long Enough To See Yourself Become The Villain



    It was clear by the fluctuating and anxious pitch in the words which Ahote struggled to squeeze from his throat that something was amiss, but Famine chose to not bring attention immediately. Instead, azure eyes finding himself watching how he nervously twiddled his little fingers in silence

    His facade was crumbling away and the fear in his orangery hues became ever more apparent. Famine could see the future, she could call upon the greatest demon in hell to aid her by simply screaming her name, she could fix anything that was broken and make it new….But she could not read her own---- her adopted son’s mind, she could not tell what was bothering him. The snake wondered if she had been the one to born him if she would have been able to know if she was supposed to be connected to Ahote that well and if so, she was denying him something he deserved.

    Either way… She knew whatever had happened that the images she’d seen had to of played a part. She blessed Eris again in her head for the sight, and blessed her that she’d made it out of that lab, that she’d cheated death. that Sol’d been able to nurse her back enough that she survived the neutral grounds without her immortality.  It occurred to her if not for these things, she’d never be able to see Ahote again, be unable to try and reassure him now, she’d never get to see him grow up despite how quickly he already had.

    He was crying and Famine could feel his burning tears which dripped from his chin into her lap melt at her hard composure. The mage cleared her throat, tattooed sleeves curling loosely around the boy’s trembling frame. She’d learned that time could heal the deepest of wounds, figuratively and literally.  She’d nurse him for as long as he needed him to make up for all the time she could not be here, for all the time he’d lost being able to grow up in a normal home with her. Famine knew she’d never been the parent to provide him with that house with the white picket fence, be able to slave over the stove to cook him a warm breakfast every Monday morning before she sent him to school, never provide him with that cheerful guildhall atmosphere she had once dearly loved. Complete with the constant commotion, the laughter, and celebration.

    Famine shook her head slightly as though to push away a bad dream. --All those things were lies she’d fallen for once. The truth was, that in the legal world, mages were always drug through the mud. All those jobs? Merely the council's plot at a disposable police force to make up for Rune Knights failures to keep their own citizens safe….from people like her.

    The only way to protect one’s self from that sort of agony was to become what you hated most in the world. No one would touch you if they were afraid of you--- In fact, no one had hurt Famine that badly since she picked up this bitter lifestyle of hers…. Heero who once loved her breaking her bones, numb limbs restrained in a dark cell for weeks-- None of that was equivalent to the pain of being nothing but good to others and being punished.  

    Then, she picked up this boy who’d found himself stranded in the forest in his darkest hour, and tried her damndest to protect him from a world of monsters by surrounding him by beastly men and women who would protect him.

    The scent of blood was still rich in his hair. Who’d hurt him...Who’d let him be hurt?

    “Have you been to the settlements while  I was away, Ahote?” Famine asked him, briefly being able to recall a picture of the landscape she’d seen around the scarlet stone littered snow...


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    Re: A Boy Now a Monster (Private/Famine)

    Post by Ahote on 26th November 2017, 2:38 pm


    By this point, Ahote had tried his hardest to keep himself from confessing what he thought was an ethical crime. He wept and sobbed and breathed quick, short breaths, feeling himself break down into what he was - a little boy. As much as he wanted to tell her about his actions and wanted her to pull him into an embrace and tell him that everything was okay, that everything was going to be alright and their world would keep spinning, he couldn't bring himself to let those words of truth roll off his tongue. He held onto the hope that maybe she didn't know, and that maybe she was ignorant to the situation and that they both could forget all of this. But the thought alone was terrifying, as there was no one solution that crossed his mind that didn't terrify him. The thought if Famine, his beloved mother, his best friend, would walk out of this room not knowing that her son was a murderer, and he alone living with the guilt and burden of the murder seemed more painful than telling her the truth. But fear was a powerful thing, and he no longer knew what to do.

    What happened to the boy who didn't have a care in the world? Who hid behind his parents when he was scared and drew pretty pictures all afternoon? What about the teenager who loved to read and schooled himself and took risks to explore the world he was entitled to? Maybe nothing happened, and that kid was still there, but never felt more alone in a building with so many people. His insurmountable love for his Mother and his desire for her to accept him raised him to the challenge to lie to her face, this very honest boy.

    But the pressure in his chest expanded and the knot in his stomach suddenly made him feel like vomiting. Did he do the right thing, by killing Angus? Was he getting what was coming to him? Was he right to determine the fate of his life? These questions made Ahote feel like he was insane, and couldn't bring himself to ask anyone. Was he right? Was he wrong? He couldn't answer these questions, and drove himself into fits of anger and confusion.

    Ahote wrapped fingers on both hands around Famine's, tightly. His crying became more apparent as it increased and sniffled more often, the pain of what was to happen in this scene accelerating it. He brought one of her hands up to his lips, and spoke into it as she asked if he had been to the settlements. "Yes. . . I was. . ." Ahote mumbled quietly, his voice trembling and him ready to fall onto his knees in guilt. "J-Just to get something,
    it was nothing. . . special. I. . . I, uhm. . . I. . ."
    He sputtered, pressing his lips against her fingers in hopes it would encourage him to speak normally. Ahote knew that she would guess that something was wrong, but she he tell her the truth? Or maybe tell her that he was just having a bad day?




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    Re: A Boy Now a Monster (Private/Famine)

    Post by Famine on 30th November 2017, 9:15 pm





    Die A Hero, Or Live Long Enough To See Yourself Become The Villain



    Still, hardly an answer came from Ahote’s hiccuping--only a greater production of the waterworks she dreaded... This troubled Famine more than she liked, especially when taking into consideration what she’d seen when that harsh white light bleached the detail out of everything. The images that came after the white-out still stuck to the inside of her eyelids.
    It was worrisome and because of the nervousness, she hadn’t slept and from what it seemed neither had Ahote. A knot of dread formed in the woman’s chest as she looked at her son who descended back to the composure of a seven-year-old, curled up and bawling in her lap. Other than to provide a weak embrace---so not to crush him in his fragileness. Famine didn’t know what she could do for him and it was that sinking realization that made her feel sick unto death.

    The witch’s fingers, which Ahote had proceeded to grip and held up to his red face, uncurled and swept a wave of the stinging tears from his running nose above a quivering lip. It was clear Ahote was dealing with a bit of a frog in the throat, his tears having already triggered convulsing and unpaced breaths that she knew probably made his gut ache. All she could do was hope to reassure him… Words left her tongue in a voice soft and silk tipped with a needle-like sharpness. “Don’t you trust me?”  Leaving her digits twisted in his right fist’s hold, Famine lifted her free palm from his shoulder and gently ruffled his dark bangs that had since matted with tears. Famine rubbed her palm into his cheek trying to cool the burning under his teary eyes with her eternally icy hands What is this about? You... know I love you, you must, even though I’m not here all the time I’ve always come back.” Famine wondered, saying whatever she could as a parent, as she was no longer addressing a guild of brigands, but a child she’d taken the liberty of bringing up herself. She needed him to let go… Her rule was no secrets and though in a different manner that applied to Ahote too-- for his own happiness and well being. It must have been those secrets that were stinging his eyes to tears.



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    Re: A Boy Now a Monster (Private/Famine)

    Post by Ahote on 2nd December 2017, 11:29 am


    Ahote had found the difficulty in maintaining the secret as hard as speaking. No matter how many tears the boy had shed, there had always seemed to be more to follow behind. Oh, how his eyes stung. He winced and squinted his eyes until tears struggled to pry through, collecting behind the eyelids before they’d inevitably slip past and resume the sobbing. There was no greater pain that this boy had experienced, a pain stronger than even the sparring incident with Sol.  It was then that Ahote lost his left arm, now nothing but bolts and screws. But with a pain so mighty, so destructive, the boy began to fear that he may lose something greater than arm or anything of the flesh. He feared he’d lose the acceptance and love of his mother, something he’d exchange his other arm for, as long as those arms could wrap around her without being rejected.

    Ahote nuzzled into her fingers, finding it harder and harder to speak as he succumbed to the idea that the relationship that nourished his heart and soul may no longer be available to him. However, the boy came to an abrupt pause in feeling Famine’s palm rub gently against his raven threads. A rush of comfort ran through him, her words ringing in his ears. Words of trust, of love, of concern. It was then that Ahote could no longer bear the burden of keeping his feelings to himself. ”I. . .” He raised his head and looked Famine in the eye with his bloodshot ones, ”I killed a man! I killed him! Me! I beat him until he was bloody and broken! Broken! I didn’t stop. . . even after he was dead. . . I didn’t stop beating him. . . I beat him and beat him and beat him and beat him!” Ahote bawled, before feeling weak in the knees and descending the ground, burying his moist face in her lap and wrapping his arms around her waist, hugging her close. ”I told myself he deserved it. . . he deserved all of it. . . I wasn’t wrong! He got what was coming to him! I’ve been patient, I’ve been tolerant. . . what more was I to do. . . what more could I do except. . . kill him. . . I just. . . I don’t think I could go on if you looked at me differently, if you couldn’t forgive me. I love you, I love you so much. . . please. . . I’m so sorry. . . I’m so sorry. He deserved it all, though, Mom. . . I swear to God he did. . .  I love you, Mom. . . Mom! Please. . . please forgive me. . . please. . .!” Ahote pressed his face deeper into her lap and hugged her waist closer to his head.

    It was far too painful now that he was at a point of no return, knowing that the answer he would or would not like to hear was soon to come. All he could do was hug the woman like a young child and pray, pray for his own sake. There was little the boy could do but bawl, hoping that no tears would leave this room, and no cries could be heard from the other side.



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    Re: A Boy Now a Monster (Private/Famine)

    Post by Famine on 3rd December 2017, 9:25 pm





    Die A Hero, Or Live Long Enough To See Yourself Become The Villain



    Killed. The mage’s eyes widen slightly as the word left Ahote’s quivering lips between his sobs. Her grip curled even tighter around him, not in malice, but in relief. The core she’d seen, the blood she’d smelt in the vision.  

    It was clear this truth had him distraught, as though his actions would change everything Famine thought of him. He was right though, it would change how she looked at him, But not in the way he worried himself sick over. He was capable of murder, capable of following his impulses, seeking what he desired, even if the world thought it was...un-morale. For Famine, it was then that she knew he was really her son despite where he had come from

    Ahote wrapped an arm around her and pulled himself close to her-- She breathed carefully, as though a breath too heavy might just break him into pieces. Famine returned the embrace by gently rubbing his arm, his back. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of Ahote’s body pressed into her lap as he sobbed. She curled against where he’d sunk into her to cradle him. The warmth at her side made the room warmer somehow and made her future raising the boy within its walls seem a little less difficult.

    Famine’s hands moved from the top of his back, where his torso convulsed with every deep sob into her lap and moved to the sides of his face he had hidden. “Ahote,” And she lifted his head by his cheeks, “They did deserve it.” Famine said, a thumb brushing his bangs to the side and rubbing the little scab and bruise on his head left from the rocks that had been thrown at him.  At her own expense, she left her thumb upon the bruising, the wound would feel warm as she began the process of reversing the harm done to his body slowly. “Never be sorry, and never apologize for doing exactly what you want. That’s why we live up here in the cold, hide from everyone, because otherwise, we have no freedom to do as we wish,” She gently proclaimed, smearing a palm into his red cheek to try and do away with the tears that were still raining down. He had no reason to cry, her devotion to him was unconditional, she cared for him without rules or demand.“I’ve feared being rejected by you should you smell how much blood is on my own hands, I’ll never-not-forgive you if you stay with me. I can show you how the world works now that you're grown Ahote. I could show you where I go all the time, all the people I want us to take it back from the rich, the lawful, the ugly, those fed by a silver spoon their entire life.


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    Re: A Boy Now a Monster (Private/Famine)

    Post by Ahote on 4th December 2017, 12:02 pm

    Ahote felt an immense weight lift from his chest in letting the words of regret and fear roll off his tongue and into the ears of Famine. A brief moment, lasting only but a few seconds, came and went, and in those seconds did he felt most at peace with himself. But soon afterwards did he return to his despair. All he could focus on were his sobs, his stinging, wet eyes and trembling body that shook his core. The pounding of his heart, the rush of blood through his veins, he was so very self conscious now that he had unraveled himself so deeply, leaving him naked to the prying, cold eyes of his mother. But were they so prying and cold as he thought?

    Cold fingers caressed his cheek, lifting his head from her lap and into the air, two pairs of eyes gazing deeply into each other. As his head elevated and the tears that had collected in the corners of his eyes fell silently, the sudden blurriness vanishing, and how he's never seen Famine in such clarity. The soft, sweet voice Ahote loved so dearly became apparent once more as his name rolled off her tongue like honey. The boy's quick breaths and clumsy sobs came to an abrupt halt, and for a moment it seemed as if time had stopped when Famine would say what she said. That they did deserve it. A statement so short but with an array of meaning and emotion it provided for the boy. Four words that told a tale of a million, and each reassured him. Reassured him that maybe he wasn't insane, and that he wasn't in the wrong.

    Famine continued, running her digits across his pale, white skin. Never be sorry, never apologize, never regret. Each telling hushed his gasps, and halted his crying. Not once did Ahote avert his gaze from hers, listening to each word that slipped past her lips attentively. Even after all that Famine had done for him, he never felt so unconditionally loved. It was her acceptance, her encouragement, her reassurance that kept the boy going. The guilt, horror, shame and agony he once felt in murdering Angus was washed over with a peacefulness and pacification.

    Ahote took a few deep breaths before rubbing his wet cheeks and eyes on his shirt and wrist in hopes that they would dry before he returned his gaze back to his Mother after she finished her own part. "I could never reject you, Mom. I would stay by your side even if the whole world was against you. . . because I know you would do the same." Ahote spoke in a soft, shaky voice, still recovering from the sobbing, "I tire of these books, Mom. Reading about the things I could be touching, seeing, smelling, tasting, hearing. . . I'm always alone here. I want the things you and Father have. . ." His dry lips morphed into a simper before raising his left, metal arm, "But. . . but you can do something about that! I'd hate myself until the ends of time if I was dead weight here, Mom. You could train me in magic, right? You're a wizard, right? Right? I think we could give my magic. . .
    another shot."
    Ahote sputtered, determined to convince his Mother to nurture his ability to wield magic. They both knew well of the incident that occurred when he was seven and what i did to his body, his mind, his soul. He would never recover from the event, true, and he was afraid that maybe it wasn't possible to wield that power without the destructive price it asked for. But he felt more agonized in being useless and ignorant than he did being injured.

    Ahote began to tear up again at the thought of the incident, never forgetting the pain. But his expression remained determined despite his trembling. Yes, he was a nervous boy. He always was. But never had he felt so motivated. Angus's murder, Famine's encouragement, his prosthetic arm, they all pushed him to escape this shell of his. He would only hope that Famine thought the same. Many things jumbled his thoughts, and was still rather roughed up by the murder, emotionally. It was his first time, after all. But he didn't feel nearly as guilty or upset as he did before, but bloody images of the scene still lingered about. It was not as if one talk cleansed him of these darker subjects, but it did set a foundation for his new moral compass. He deserved it, nothing to apologize for, nothing to fear. Silence the ones who dare harm him, like he had done before. Mother was alright with it, so what's wrong in doing it?

    "Please?"


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    Re: A Boy Now a Monster (Private/Famine)

    Post by Famine on 6th December 2017, 3:56 pm





    Die A Hero, Or Live Long Enough To See Yourself Become The Villain



    He’d never reject her. The ghost of a smile touched the mage’s lips. If there was anyone that she felt would stay with her forever it was this boy. Though Famine would never admit such a thing, she feared abandonment. When the one person she loved turned their back to her she’d gotten herself lost and in that process she stumbled upon darker arts and wandered away to this guildhall and slowly took charge-- assuring everyone here would remain loyal all the while and never dare abandon her or this guild she now called her home.

    Anxiously, her nails curled into Ahote’s ebony locks, and her eyes lidded shut a moment casting her world into darkness and her thoughts. Motherhood seemed to be riddled with all kinds of exaggerated fears.

    The slightest thought of seeing Ahote get hurt on her watch again agonized her-- especially to such severe levels as the prosthetic fingers she gripped tightly onto. Famine could argue that growing up was painful, that she'd experienced plenty of strife as a mage in her adolescence... only she was a mage on the opposite side of the spectrum then. Now it seemed everything she grew up enjoying about life in the land and serving the people of the legal world he’d have to learn to hate now.-- For the preservation of himself of course. So he was never taken advantage of...

    Ahote was the same age now as she was when she first broke out of that damned bunker she'd spent a childhood locked up in. It was painful to think how she unintentionally put Ahote through an all too familiar experience. By trying to protect him, to keep him strictly on this mountain where it only was ever cold, She had locked him away just as she had been as a girl.
    "Ahote," She muttered, shoulders slouching weakly as the name left her cut lips. "If you really think you are ready this time... there's only so much I could do to stop you." She stated, giving him the indication that it might be better this time if she just stopped holding him back, despite how difficult that was. She couldn't resist the look in his eyes, how he longed to make experiences.

    Famine would simply have to trust herself with making sure that he wouldn't have to go through more adversity than he had, that he didn't soften at the sight of happy families, that he didn't scare like this at the sensation of death. It was either him or them it was either them or her.
    "It's a tough world, you've got to show me you're tough enough to handle that." She whispered softly, looking at the curtains and out the window from over Ahote’s shivering shoulders. In the darkness of twilight, she could still see the constant blizzard Mt. Hakobe promised. If anything it was stronger without the slightly warmer temperature daylight brought. Famine watched all the white cliffs in the distance disappear in the sure knowledge that she'd only have to traverse down them with Ahote when she decided to take him.



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    Re: A Boy Now a Monster (Private/Famine)

    Post by Ahote on 7th December 2017, 7:10 pm

    Nothing had felt better than this one conversation. Never had he felt so content in doing something so wrong. He was foolish to believe that his mother could ever be ashamed of him, to love him less when it was the love for him that became so insurmountable. Maybe there was an opportunity earlier in life for the boy to have grown up differently, if he had stayed home that one night instead of wandering off into the forest with dreams of glory and bravery, if he had understood that parents were busy. Maybe there was a point down the path of life that the path diverged into two and chose the bumpiest, rockiest one with bare feet. Maybe this fortress seemed lonely and desolate to others, but it was here that Ahote never felt so at home. Maybe to others, Famine had a heart of stone and steel, but the boy never felt so much warmth and love radiate from it. Maybe they were right, and Ahote was alright with that.

    Ahote felt a rush of excitement pump through his veins at the thought of being able to stand by his mother, even if he was a little behind, standing in their shadow. At least he would be able to move forward with them, and when his legs grew stronger, he could stand beside them and maybe even run ahead. His eyes lit up and although his voice was still shaky, he radiated of childlike eagerness. It was simply his gentle spirit speaking in response to Famine's approval. "I'm ready, and I'll prove it. Anything the world throws at me, anything that's said or done to me, I can take it. I can take anything as long as you're here with me, Mom!" Ahote jeered, his gentle smile stretching from ear to ear. Since the murder, Ahote had finally felt at peace.

    [End]


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      Current date/time is 10th December 2017, 6:51 pm