Setting
In a way, she could not help but feeling a bit guilty as a rather forlorn sigh escaped from her lips. Yes, the task assigned to her was indeed a mundane one, and even on the torturous side thanks to the hot weather, but it was a simple enough job, and it was not something she really had the right to complain about. Her mother never really asked anything of her beyond going to the grocerâs occasionally to buy some food; normally work such as this was left to Momchil and Amalia before it was left to her. . . . The twins were rather apt at following the instructions given to them, they never failed in their duties and could be considered the perfect assistants, so, there was never a need for her mother to come to her with anything like this.
The package she had her arms wrapped around began to slip from her grip a bit, causing her to stop in place, a surprised noise coming from her throat as she quickly adjusted her limbs to make sure the box didnât go crashing to the cement below. She remained still for a moment after this, a panicked expression on her face, her grey eyes wide with worry, a silent prayer being said in her head that she would not drop what she was holding. Upon realizing that things were indeed safe, she released the breath she had been holding in, sighing in relief, and promptly groaned, her shoulders drooping a bit as she relaxed. This was part of the reason that these sorts of matters were attended to by the twins, and not her. To say the least, she was not the most graceful of people, by any means.
Just how much stuff did mom order to have to send me, and the twins, to do an exchange? Nicoletta thought to herself blinking with a wondering look on her features. âWell, itâs obviously a fair amount; otherwise she wouldnât have resorted to asking me for help. She gets edgy when Iâm even on the first floor because she always thinks Iâm going to stumble, and break her merchandise. . . .â the blonde mumbled to herself, her eyes wandering over the brown, poorly re-taped up box she had her arms wrapped around.
Honestly, she still didnât really comprehend how it was such a mix up could have occurred. It wasnât so unthinkable that a package or two might get swapped by mistake here and there, but for something like this to have happened, seriously, it was baffling, to her at least. Blinking, and tilting her head skyward, Nicoletta turned her neck and glanced over her shoulder, to behind her. Halted a few feet behind her, were two rather odd-looking children, silver hair, crimson eyes, and skin left without pigment, the boy and the girl almost looked identical. They even wore the same expression, a dull and bored one. . . . Dressed in their frilly clothing, the two stood quiet, just looking at the blonde teenager who stared back at them. It seemed as if they were waiting.
Looking over them with her owl-like eyes, Nicoletta kept her mouth shut, just lingering about herself. Moments passed between the three, and still no words were exchanged. These two, are they ever going to learn how to be the ones who speak first? she sighed, before swinging one of her legs up and around, using its weight to turn her body on the toe of her boot to face the strange looking children. Nicoletta allowed a dull expression of her own to overtake her features as she just gazed upon them, and finally she opened her mouth up and spoke. âMomchil, Amalia,â she started, her eyes going to the boy first, then to the girl, âIs the order mom placed so large that she really needed the three of us to go out to get it together?â
It took a moment, but the twins looked to one another before returning their gaze to Nicoletta, and both nodded. It was then that the girl called Amalia spoke, the voice coming from her throat being a monotonous one. âYes, motherâs requested shipment was one which called for a dozen large bolts of assorted cloth.â
When Amalia stopped speaking, it was then Momchil took his turn, his voice almost the same as his âsisterâs.â âThe items ordered should have been delivered to us today, yet this did not happen. Instead, the package that is being carried by you, sister Nico, was left on the doorstep of Ardente Sundries.â
Taking in a breath Nicoletta found herself letting out a groan, âRight. Instead of the textile bolts, we got this box of . . . well, baking ingredients.â she couldnât help but shaking her head at the notion of it, getting two deliveries mixed up like this, textile bolts and what were obvious baking ingredients. . . . Things so specific and specialized, that it ought to have been obvious that they were not meant for a sundries shop of all things. âAnyway, after that, mom wound up looking up the number for the store name listed on the address label of the box, called them and confirmed that they received her shipment of cloth.â
Amalia nodded, âCorrect. It was then that Mother called upon all three of us to carry out the exchange of commodities for her, so that she could continue minding the store.â
âAnd . . . thatâs why it was that the three of us had to haul ourselves out of the store just to walk over a few blocks to exchange things.â Nicoletta sighed, turning her head from side to side, taking in their odd surroundings. âOn the hottest day of the summer, and waste an entire afternoon correcting the mistakes of yet another idiot in Portum Animasâ population nonetheless.â This was so not what she felt like doing right now. No, she wanted to be at home, in her room, where the hot summer sun couldnât reach her, just laying on her comfy bed, reading. Ah, what she loved to do the most~ Thinking about what she really wanted to be doing, Nicolettaâs eyes grew a touch distant, âSo not fair.â
The slightest bit of confusion seemed to play over Momchilâs features as he listened and observed his human sister, âSister Nico, are you upset because your indolent routine was interrupted by Motherâs request?â
At hearing the word âindolent,â Nicolettaâs face went red in embarrassment. âI-I am not indolent Momchil, you shouldnât call someone that! The only reason Iâm irked is because of the fact that someone went and made a mistake in their work that couldnât be more obvious to a person with half a working brain!â
âYou are lying.â Amalia stated, her voice as apathetic sounding as ever.
âI-I am not Amalia!â the blonde shouted, her voice breathy and rather high-pitched, garnering a few glances from passersby. Despite her shouting at them, both of the twins remained as they were, just standing in place with expressions that couldnât be more calm.
âAmalia is correct, sister Nico. Your deceit would be apparent to an individual whose intellect was only halfway operational.â As soon as Momchil spoke those words, Nicolettaâs cheeks simply turned a bright shade of crimson as she realized what the false little humanoid had just done.
He turned my own words around on me. she thought, blinking from the surprise of it. While it wasnât uncommon for one of the twins to become rather . . . snarky, Nicoletta herself was still getting used to the fact that they were becoming more and more human with each passing day. Little snipes as Momchilâs comment was proof enough of the changes happening in the two of them, even if said comments were sarcastic, insulting or rude. They were still evidence of the unapparent.
A tried expression took over Nicolettaâs features as she adjusted the heavy box against her middle, Getting into it with these two just is not worth it. Itâs not like they know what is right and wrong to say to someone yet. They are still learning polite socialization techniques. she thought, opening her eyes partway to look over them, âWhatever you two, letâs just get on with this so we can get home.â
âYes sister Nico.â The two twins answered Nicoletta in unison as she spun about on the toe of her boot to begin walking forward yet again, trekking on ahead to locate the address scrawled upon the label of the package carried in her arms. . . . Her motherâs handwriting was so messy, considering she minded a shop and often had to write orders out, Nicoletta really couldnât help but thinking that maybe she would have learned how to print her letters neater, perhaps more legibly. It was hard to make out some of what she wrote, so Nicoletta could only hope that she was reading it correctly, and that she was headed to the right shop to make the exchange.
But, of all the things her mother had to go and order, it was textile bolts. . . . Even if she did run a sundries shop, sometimes she just got the whims to sell the most odd things. Normally, bolts of cloth were handled by fabric stores, not a sundries shop. . . . But, if her mother didnât know what she was doing, then âArdente Sundriesâ would have gone out of business some years ago. It didnât matter though . . . not to her really, Nicoletta was just doing what it was that her mother had asked her to. She normally had no contact with the everyday business in the store, her mother asking her to do something was rare, and normally the last thing she resorted to.
The blondeâs face squelched up awkwardly, as her eyes were cast down at the address written by her mother. She was trying to read the numbers printed on the label, but it was of no use, she just couldnât make it out very well. Is that a zero or a six . . . ? she wondered, continuing to walk blindly on. It wasnât until she was jarred back into reality when it was she near bludgeoned them over. Her shoulder connected with theirs, and she wound up yelping, her body tipping to the side as sheâd been so unprepared for it. And with a squeak, despite her attempts to remain upright, Nicoletta tumbled to the side, the box sheâd been carrying clattered to the pavement, the sound of things cracking within sounded out. At hearing this, the blondeâs eyes opened widely, and though her side was hurting from the spill sheâd taken, she pushed herself up to her knees a distressed look upon her face. In truth, sheâd almost completely forgotten about the fact that she had run into someone else to have made this little incident happen. . . .
All the while this was happening, Momchil and Amalia simply remained still, standing a few feet away as they looked on at the scene of their âsisterâ walking right into a stranger, only to fall over and seemingly damage the goods she was suppose to exchange. . . .
Instead, he now focused more on the gleaming sun, and the contentedness that he felt so little. Then he set his mind back on more important matters. Mainly, how he was going to get off the building that was only about three stories, but without a way to get off that wouldn't be noticed. If he used his Plasmae, he might be able to slow his fall were he to jump, but it wouldn't be pretty if he landed in the middle of a crowd of people shooting out jets of glowing energy.
He sighed. No helping it, he guessed. He took out his fireflies, objects that looked like large guns, and channeled plasma into them, creating to large, curved blades. Then he bent down and set to work on the top of the building, hoping there wasn't anyone beneath it. A square of heavy concrete fell through, along with the sound of shattering glass and breaking objects. Without stopping to wonder what he had broken or if there was anyone in the building, he put away the fireflies and hopped into the square hole, hitting the ground and running to what looked to be the stairs. Taking them three at a time, he bounded down them at full speed, running into a room that he didn't pause to look at, and kicked open the door, running away.
Once he had sprinted what he thought was sufficiently far away, he slowed. Doing something like that was part of his daily life. Completely pointless though it was, he enjoyed suddenly appearing in front of people for some reason. He didn't pay much mind to the consequences of his actions at this point and focused on what came next: finding some ice cream.
A girl in front of him who was carrying a large box walked straight into someone and fell over, but he payed no mind and continued walking, looking for a place that looked like it might have some. He had precious little money, but he didn't use it for much anyway.
He thought about what else he might need. Looking down at the tattered, short sleeved vest, rather odd for this time of year, that barely served to cover his odd looking armor, he realized that he would probably need clothes as well. He sighed and counted out the money he had on hand. There went ice cream, and possibly any meals for the next few days, as well.
That business was the short order of, hopefully, finding a useful and willing associate for his project. It had been but faint rumors, of a person that had the ability to manipulate souls. They were old rumors, and probably prone to mistranslated details. But if such a person existed, then it could be the final piece he needed to complete his life's work and realize his goal. The only problem was that these rumors all pointed to Portum Animas, the city where such talents were looked down on and sometimes subjugated. Not to mention that he had his own grievances with the city.
The man pulled his hat down further over his eyes as he passed a wanted poster, with a bitter reminder of betrayal plastered on it. Bardon Hemos, probably one of the most wanted criminals in the city's history barring the upper echelon of the chaotic. A man called the blood sage, necromancer, and most often the heretical doctor. A man wanted for murder and desecration of corpses. His reappearance in the city would definitely cause a major stir, and so it would be best for now if he kept himself hidden. He had very important work to be done, and distractions from the following and what other powers that lie dormant in the city would be most... unwelcome.
For the time being though, when it came to the task at hand. He simply had to stay out of sight and keep an ear to the ground for this person he was looking for. He only knew that it was a she, and that 'she' would likely be where people most tired would gather or come from.
Blink. Blink, blink. Elven thought of his actions as they happened, but mostly for the reason that he could not see. All he saw through his eyes was darkness, until he heard a distinct mewl and his light barricade strode off his face, without a care in the world. As he closed his eyes again tightly, he felt himself grabbing at his pajamas, before letting go and repeating the process all over again. With a gigantic sigh, the black-haired boy stood up, glaring at the cat prancing around on the floor like he was a Prince.
"Kasper, I do not think it's fair to wake me only to sit your lazy ass back in your basket." Elven sighed, pinning his hair back with a few, bright red clips so he could see properly without having a barrier of hair blocking his view. Raising his arms into the air and yawning, he took a few steps towards the wardrobe. An intense heat filtered through the windows and he took a deep breath. Obviously, he'd be wearing no coat today; even if he tried, his aunt would lose it and tell him to either take it off or stay in the house. But today, he had a self-set errand: to get some of Tiffany's pastries before they ran out. Grabbing a light grey jumper, a white shirt and some black jeans (He tried keeping it simple, yes. . . . ), he tip-toed out of his room.
At the sight of dim, almost greying red hair, Elven gasped and backed into the wall, sneaking his way across. Obviously, he'd been heard and he earned a smile from his aunt, who knew the boy's morning routine all too well. Not that it was morning anymore. "M-Madam Aunt Amore!" Elven nodded his head in a greeting way and Amore nodded back, a motherly sigh escaping her lips.
"Feeling adventurous?" she asked, pointing at his clothes. "You could grab anyone's eye with those bright colours." Amore's sarcastic voice echoed down the hallway and Elven smirked.
With a mocking smile on his face, he said "Well, at least I don't permanently have to match things to the colour red, Madam." Elven turned around and headed into the bathroom, not missing the short laugh from his aunt. He could just picture her shaking her head at him, before footsteps told him she'd returned to her room.
His hands ran through his bat-black hair, washing out the blend his aunt had made to make hair smell nice. Scents seemed to be her trade, as she made her own perfumes, and even though she could easily have made a trade out of it, she kept her inventions at home, safe. It seemed to him that he wasn't the only household member who'd become a somewhat introvert. In fact, it was quite the opposite; his whole family tended to steer clear from strangers, and sometimes even close friends. Though, of course, the Tacitra family's sudden bout of paranoia was frowned upon by the family friends, yet the neighbours understood why they had so suddenly tried to cut themselves off from the world.
Replacing his rings onto his index and middle finger, Elven began getting dressed. However, he stood incredibly close to the door in case anyone were to open it. The boy pulled the grey jumper on, the black jeans and the shirt, along with undergarments (Obviously.) and pulled a necklace with a dark blue teardrop pendant around his neck. Elven looked in the mirror, before shaking his head and rushing to his room. He grabbed a blue scarf and wrapped it around his neck loosely. For some odd reason, he didn't feel the heat at all.
He looked at Kasper. "Do you feel like going somewhere, Kasper?" Elven said, crouching down next to the cat. The cat turned his head in the other direction. "Well, I guess you are getting on in years." Elven smirked, but the cat just settled down into a comfortable position, ignoring his owner. Elven gave a lopsided grin to Kasper, grabbing his bag, and 'Sister' the katana, and set out.
"Why don't you get some more colourful clothes while you're out?" He heard his aunt yell from her room, a groan from the probably half-asleep Gamion Tacitra, his uncle.
He paused. "Why don't you work on expanding your brain while you are inside, Madam?" Elven retorted, shutting the door quietly when he heard his uncle begin shouting some horribly invented insults and something about the importance of sleep his way. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Elven dug his hands into his pockets and looked straight ahead, ignoring any other beings. Tiffany's, eh? I wonder how Madam Aunt gets her cakes when they're near often sold out. he thought, gathering his thoughts. His hand found itself in his pocket, bringing a small book out. The language was confusing and ancient, but the story was interesting if you could get past the odd structure of the paragraphs. Elven was deeply engrossed in the book when. . .
Book. he thought, not bothering about the fact he had just almost been rendered to the floor and was only still standing because he found grip on the wall. He saw the book, lying in a puddle of mud and he growled slightly, turning fiercely to the being who'd walked into him like a predator. He stood so he was above her, intimidating despite tugging at the edge of his jumper nervously. The scowl on his face was easily one of instant dislike, and even though he was sure he'd seen this girl around Finitor somewhere. Nevertheless, the glare he was giving her was unimaginable, his blood red eyes staring into her air blue ones.
Even though he was technically, partially, at blame for not paying attention, he still willed misfortune upon the girl who was now on her knees. "Well, excuse me Madam," he stressed the word to get her attention, before two silver haired individual's caught his. Blink, blink. he thought, blinking in time with the two. Elven's eyes glided to some goods -whatever they were, he could not tell due to them having shattered- and back to the girl and boy, twins was his assumption, before he crouched by the box. He recovered some items which hadn't crushed under the force of hitting the floor. Baking ingredients and utensils. . . . Elven stared at the mess on the floor. His hands were almost completely covered by the sleeves of his jumper; only his fingertips showed, as usual. What was smashed, crushed and cracked was exactly that and there was nothing to be done, however most of the usable items were still in the boy.
Elven looked up at the two with eyes just like his, except. . . . lighter, more innocent though they both looked dead bored. The black-haired boy bit his nail with one hand, fiddling with the sleeve of his jumper with the other. "Madam, if you are going to carry merchandise to heavy for yourself, why do you not ask your siblings, Mister and Miss, here?" he asked, puzzled. Though, of course, it was odd for him to assume they were sibling, as they looked nothing alike, so he took it back quickly. "Are Mister and Miss not your siblings, Madam?" he tilted his head. Opposite looking siblings were normal for him, and he judged that they were siblings due to the way they carried themselves around each other. E
The raven-haired boy looked to his left and saw his book in the mud, reminding him of the small lecture he'd thought up in his head, but he simplified it immensely. "I blame you completely, Madam, for the loss of my book, though you can blame me for the destruction of your. . . . things." Elven said, his disinterested look matching those of the twins staring at their (assumed) sister.
It was that Nicoletta remained where she was, knelt on the pavement as people walked by her, the twins and the person sheâd knocked shoulders with, simply staring at the box and its broken, split contents, a disheartened expression over her features. The blondeâs mind was completely separate from the surrounding world, as she wasnât even thinking about the fact that she had not only ruined someone elseâs goods, but that she had run into another person for the love of the Goddess. Her train of thought was set on one track, and it wasnât derailing for much of anything at this point. . . . She didnât even notice the death glare she was at the receiving end of.
In the meantime, both of the twins had their crimson gazes set upon the black-haired boy whom was partly responsible for the situation at hand. Both brother and sister remained quiet, as they believed it was not their place to speak when the circumstances involved here were between their sister and the yet-to-be-named stranger in the jumper.
âWell, excuse me Madam," the venom-laced words caught hold of Nicolettaâs attention though, despite the fact that her focus had been so upon the mess made at her knees. That downcast expression did not leave her features though, even as she pulled her head upward, her eyes near-unwillingly leaving the sight before her to look up at the one whom had spoken. It took the girl a moment to realize why his words had carried such bitterness, and such an edge. At first, she had been confused, but when she understood who he was, her eyes widened in realization, as she came to comprehend the fact that she hadnât at all said anything to him after nearly knocking him over.
He stood, right above her as if trying to loom overhead as an ominous figure. Like he was trying to strike some . . . dark, morbid fear into her, to make her fear for her life it felt, the way he was. . . . Nicoletta could feel an air about him that bespoke of loathing, for her, because of her clumsy accident, for running into him as she had without so much as offering an apology after it happened. Instead, she had gone and stared at the mess of things which she had become responsible for by word of her mother. . . . Even if she were caught up in something unfortunate, undoubtedly going to be chewed out by her mother for being so careless, she still should have offered this boy her apologies, at the very least. And because she had failed to do so, he was hovering above her, holding onto some sort of seething, quiet fury that sort of reminded Nicoletta of an angry, buzzing around while trapped in a jar. There was something to be afraid of, but it was somewhat contained.
The fellow teenager had stared at Momchil and Amalia for a moment, seemingly unsure of the two. In return to his gaze, the twins simply stared back, a disinterested, almost detached sort of expression overlaying their childish, colorless faces. Both boy and girl stood side-by-side, hands at their fronts, one overtop the other. His eyes traveled to the box on ground, the contents spilled, and back to the twins, who continued to silently, and almost creepily, stare right at him.
He began to bite on one of his nails, before he spoke again, his voice this time filled more with puzzlement, and confusion instead of complete malice for her it seemed. âMadam, if you are going to carry merchandise to heavy for yourself, why do you not ask your siblings, Mister and Miss, here?â Nicolettaâs own eyes flittered over to both Momchil and Amalia, who turned to look at her. There was no hint of questioning upon their faces, but then, those two were nigh unreadable children . . . you could never guess what was going to come out of their mouths or what it was they were really thinkingâif they were thinking anything at all, that is. âAre Mister and Miss not your siblings, Madam?â he suddenly asked, revoking his earlier assumption it seemed as he tilted his head.
Thereâs a question Iâm not at liberty to answer. Yep, I think of them as my siblings, but no, they arenât really my brother and sister. Nicoletta thought with a sigh, shoulders drooping as she was reminded of the sour truth behind those two, how they came to be with her family in the first place, and the fact that the two were not human to begin with. Though, the detail wasnât even important anymore, not since the two were more or less like family as matters were now, they were loved and accepted by herself, Vicente and her parents. However, that bit of thought brought Nicoletta back to the matter at hand, the damaged goods, the ingredients and cooking utensils. . . . Mom was going to be very angry about this. There was no doubt about that one. Right . . . mom. Sheâs going to verbally kill me; I swear if she were a Gifted, I bet that her powers would have something to do with the ability to imprint words on people, or to actually be able to inflict harm. a small laugh came from her, along with a sigh.
It was with this that the blonde turned her periwinkle-colored eyes back up to look at the person whoâd gone from seeming like a snake poised to strike, to someone who was beginning to detach themselves from the situation in a sense. She was owed something of a display of oneâs temper for how careless sheâd been, but it seemed that she might avoid the worst of what this boy could dish out. âI blame you completely, Madam, for the loss of my book, though you can blame me for the destruction of your. . . . things.â
Nicoletta let out a loud and exasperated exhale of a breath, a tiresome look on her young face. Yes, that was some signage of him possessing maturity and sense. The fact that he did realize that he himself could be tacked with the blame for her breaking her âthings,â as heâd put it. . . . One of her small hands came away from her lap, as her eyes glanced over at the same time, and found itself set upon the nearby brick and stone wall of a building. With a small groan, Nicoletta was ascending to her own feet. She needed to offer her apologies to him at the very least. . . .
But, it was as she was opening her lips to speak that she found another voice speaking before her own, cutting her off. âOur sister Nico is indeed at fault for the ruin of your literature . . .â Amalia spoke, her eyes trailing over to the blonde, whose head snapped up, her eyes upon the girl, Nicolettaâs face was beginning to redden.
Momchil offered a bow, âCertainly so, she is. We must offer you our sincere apologies on the behalf of her, and her dear antics.â
âYes, we must.â Amalia agreed, dipping herself into a polite, and slightly creepy, curtsy in time with her brotherâs bow. âPlease, forgive her for her carelessness, for she is clumsy and prone to accidents such as these quite often, you see. . . .â
Following the ending of Amaliaâs sentence, Momchil attempted to speak again, ready to continue on with thisâonly he was cut short by a noise from Nicoletta, whose cheeks were cherry red in embarrassment. âMomchil, Amalia, thatâs enough out of you two! Stop speaking as if Iâm completely incompetent!!â
At her words, both the albino twins reverted to their normal stances, leaving behind the bow and curtsy. They turned to their flustered sister, faces still as passive as ever. âBut sister Nico . . . we only speak the truth about you.â Momchil replied, his voice eerie serene.
âAnd, incompetent is surely what you may be labelled, as you were unable to even make an exchange of goods for Mother at her request. . . .â Amalia finished what it was her brother had to say, only making the girl at the receiving end have an even redder face, her expression completely and totally flustered.
âI-I, j-just stop talking!â she ordered, almost pouting.
In unison to her words, came the dual reply of, âYes, sister Nico.â
From Nicoletta came a weary sigh, those two were. . . . They had turned into quite the snarky things in the last year; that was for sure. A had came to her face, as she shook her head tiredly back and forth, turning back to the boy to whom she owed an apology. With her face still red, she drew her hand down back to her side, and with a sincere look, she placed her own hands at her front, and suddenly dipped her front half forward before uttering a quick, âIâm sorry.â Hastily enough, she was standing back to her full height, looking at him. âI am to blame for ruining your book, honestly, I apologize. I was distracted, trying to read a poorly-written address on the boxâs label, and I didnât look ahead of me while I was walking, and well. . . . Itâs not an excuse or a reason, but, thatâs why it happened.â She sighed; a hand wound up set on her hip another scratching the back of her neck as a mindful expression took hold of her face. âThereâs not much I can really say or do to try to make up for this incident, except to offer you a replacement, or for me to attempt to replace it, if thatâs possible. . . .â she trailed off, not even sure if that was possible.
It depended on the actual text heâd been reading when theyâd ran into one another. âAs for what I was carrying, well . . . that stuff didnât even belong to me, those thing were wrongly delivered to my motherâs shop, and I was supposed to be taking them for an exchange, for what we were meant to be getting.â A breath came from her, âTo put it simply, no matter how I try to handle this, my mom is not going to be happy with me.â
Nicoletta kept her gaze on the dark-headed boy the entirety she babbled on, and only glanced away from him when it was a new someone entered her field of vision, seemingly having a go at the half-ruined book that had gotten the boy in the jumper almost acting like he had poison in his words. This new person was a he, and could not have seemed more opposite from whom she had been giving an apology. And . . . he looked to be dressed in the robes of those who were of the Following. Understanding that made Nicoletta visibly tense up, a sentiment of discontentment overtook her demeanor, and the air about her small form became fiercer, almost blazing off her like a fire. Her expression became grave, her thoughts and feelings toward the Following were rigid and defined, ever since the detainment of her sister some years ago.
The way she viewed anything that had to do with the Following of the Great Mother, or Harmonia, Discordic . . .any of that crap, frankly it all infuriated her. What they claimed, and said, and did, even to innocent children who were four. . . . It was sickening to her, upsetting to the point it made her stomach churn. Nicoletta said nothing though, she knew better, she knew the risks it ran.
Momchil and Amalia, though, they kept themselves quiet as instructed by their sister, but the two had their gazes locked upon the robed man, he was new, and perhaps the most interesting thing around now. And, Nicoletta, forcing a harsh bit of air into her lungs, quickly turned her eyes back to whom she was apologizing to, the feel of her person had changed, and it was reflected when she spoke. âLook, just tell me what it is I can do to relieve your anger or annoyance about this, Iâll do what I can.â
She was trying as hard as she can to keep herself contained, to lock away that anger of hers for the man who was of the Following, but there was no denying the fact that Nicolettaâs anger could be felt by anyone who was the slightest bit perceptive.
Bardon had nearly been deterred just like many of the others when the girl had tried to flood a feeling of disinterest into the crowed. However he stayed undeterred, flooding his own body with adrenalin to keep focus, when he how much of a display the boy had made of himself with that little sprint of his. Even if the girl had some kind of empathy ability, it would be enough to remove the memory of the people that had been there. The more aware ones would also shortly realize that their emotions were being manipulated, just as Bardon had, and fight against it. If any of that wasn't enough, pulling out the glowing blades and pressing them against the girls throat was sure to reignite the crowds awareness to the scene.
Quickly he glanced back behind them, seeing that several people were throwing questioning stares and worried expressions their way. Bardon pushed slightly stronger, trying to hurry the both of them onto another street, away from the site and from any onlookers. "I suggest you move with haste, before anyone gets a good look at either of you two." He said, in a steady tone that left no room for debate. "Unless you enjoy the idea of getting chased out of the city by an angry mob. Or worse."
"Well. That was kinda fun, actually. Haven't been able to do that in a while," he said happily.
He was rather glad that the man hadn't been killed by Aureline, but, looking back on it, he didn't know if she would have. She had even taken the care to get him out of sight before she used her power. Good thing, too, since that had ended in a rather noticeable manifestation of raw plasma that probably would have had people screaming "demon" all over the city. Still, that wasn't anything he hadn't dealt with before.
He looked around, purposely avoiding avoiding looking at the other two when he asked his next question. "What exactly are either of you two doing here, anyway? This isn't exactly the best place to be for a Gifted, you know..."
Kiren knew that all to well. Of course, it had been after he'd come that he'd figured that out. It was a bit different than sme other cities he'd been to because the church influence was much larger, and they had ways to... deal with Gifted that didn't involve running them out of the city. Or so he'd heard. He didn't interact with people all that much generally, outside of what he needed to. If they needed help that he might be able to provide, he'd do it, but those types of problems were becoming less and less frequent as the church and strengthened its roots outside of the city.
Of course, people probably didn't especially like the look of him, either. His tattoos, eyes and hair together would mark him out, to the more educated ones, as a member of one of the tribes that lived in one of the less populated areas of Manus Luna. Members of the church had shunned him before simply because of that, or tried to persuade him to give up the worship of "The Demon" as they called it. He'd never liked the people from the church. Most of them got on his nerves. And so many of the things that they did were so useless... He sighed. He'd come to this city on a whim, wondering if he might be able to find something to do for a while. He'd also come to pay a visit to the renowned local church, just to get a look at it. He couldn't call them smart or logical decisions, but he rarely payed attention to whether or not a decision was smart or logical unless he felt like doing so at the time.
In the mean time the purple hair youth had gotten to the point where Bardon could see he was putting the girl through some kind of discomfort. Is he... a giffted too?, he wondered, finally stepping in to say something. However the purple haired one spoke before Bardon could confront him.
"Sorry, this reservation is only meant for two... Come and find us, if you get there in ten minutes or more, you can pay for your own damn meals,"
Then he vanished. A short series of panicked shouts came from the crowd. One minute two people were standing there, the next they disappeared into thin air. Bardon frowned. "I knew it." He turned, pick up his suit case, grabbed the white haired boy by the arm, and marched out of the building. "Come on," He said. "I think I can figure out where they went." Bardon wondered slightly to himself why he even cared. He only just met the girl, not even knowing her name in fact, and it wasn't like he had any obligations to help her. But deep down Bardon knew he had to be a better person then that. And who knows, maybe she was the person he came to the city to look for in the first place.
At any case he still had to find her. He stopped to sniff the air a bit, and slowly he could feel the presence of his blood on the girls shoe. It was faint, but he could still find which direction they went. "They're very far away." He said, sounding some what surprised. He started walking quickly in the direction the abductor had taken her. "It will takes us some time to get there on foot."
âUh.. Y-ye- well, no I'm - you see...â So, he tried to speak, but completely failed in doing so. The beginnings of his words came out in poorly pronounced stumbles and stutters. . . . In truth, that actually elicited a sort of tired smile from Nicoletta. To see a Follower blunder up his own words, well, it was strange, but sort of . . . well, it was kind of unexpected but a pleasant sort, it felt. It was simply something she couldnât explain. Her brother would verbally kill her for even showing the slightest bit of concern for someone of the religion, for treating a Follower as a fellow human, if he found out, but she couldnât help her itâwhen she saw a person as a person, that was it.
--
Momchil and Amalia watched, they had stopped their walking, to wait for Elven. Nicoletta had requested of them to escort the boy to a specific location, and they could not escort what was not there. The two stared at their sister, wordless and vacant, at times, they looked between one another before setting their crimson gazes upon the short girl and the tall stranger. âHow long shall we await him, sister Amalia?â Momchil spoke, quietly.
âFor as long as he takes, brother Momchil. Sister Nico requested that we lead him to the address written upon the box.â She replied, earning a mere nod in response.
--
In truth, Nicoletta was ready to put her hands up and to just tell the Follower to forget even replying to herâhis stumblings and inability to form a coherent sentence was enough of a response for her. He was not all right. However, no sooner did that want arise within her did Elven return, popping between herself and him with next to no warning. The suddenness of it caused Nicoletta to yelp, and to jump back about a step or so. She looked at the teenager with her eyes wide, and simply stared at him, The Hell is he . . . ? he had shown nothing but distaste for him, as she had before finding her idiot self seeing the Follower as an individual before anything else. . . . She couldnât see what was up, not with Elven standing right in front of the man.
âFirst of all, I do not like you very much, Sir, but it's not personal. I do not like many people. Second, you are only getting this because I do not like wasting unwanted items when others may desire them. And thirdly, if you find any artwork I may have slotted in there as a bookmark and you do not give it back, I will locate you Sir. If it's a nude picture, Sir Uncle Gamion was probably trying to play an awfully planned practical joke. Again.â he began to speak, and he spoke so that Nicoletta herself could barely follow him as he reach his points. She got the gist of his words, and simply found herself sighing a bit, as she realized that Elven had gone over the top with his words. If she couldnât well keep up with his strange manner of speech, she didnât doubt that the Follower whoâd gotten so flabbergasted over a simple inquiry had some minor issues too. Evidently though, the book sheâd had a hand in ruining had been returned to the Follower . . . strange when Elven had been so adamant about him not having it.
Heâs an odd one . . . no doubts about that. she sighed, shaking her head. Simply staring as Elven, stood on his tiptoes, and patted the top of the Followerâs head as if he were a child, Nicoletta found herself a little weirded out by that. How could she not be? It was an odd sight indeed. Again, odd one. But, then, I guess it takes all kinds of people to make life go on. That was the only way she could rationalize that.
âLastly, take good care of the book, Sir, or I will personally cook you for my family.â that last comment was what Elven left them with as he stepped away, and moved back to the box of broken and ruined bakery goods. She stared at him, simply blinking as she didnât quite know how she was suppose to react to that. But, she noted a change in the air about the Follower, from confused to seemingly infuriated. Nicoletta winced in regards to this . . . heâd mistaken Elven for being serious, hadnât he . . . ? One glance was enough to tell her he had, heâd tensed up entirely, and his features had taken on a look of anger.
âIf you even see my family, I will personally make sure that you never see again.â he mumbled, looking at Elven as he picked up the box. Although . . . it didnât take long for him to seemingly realize that the boy had been joking. Evidently, those of the Following didnât seem to have any idea of how semi-normal socialization went. . . . âI.. Thank you for the book, kind lad.â A normally spoken sentence came from him, at last.
She simply kept her eyes on him at this, knowing that Elven would now be in the company of Momchil and Amalia . . . hopefully the two of them would listen to her and actually be acceptably polite to the dark-haired lad, even if he was not the most pleasant of fellows himself. Or, at the very least, she hoped that they wouldnât say something too weird. . . . They could be rather odd at times, even by the standards they had set for themselves.
Alas though, whatever would happen with those two and Elven . . . it was out of her control now. All Nicoletta could do was hope for the best. When it was though, that the Follower had suddenly turned and bowed to her, the teenager simply looked at him with a questioning expression upon her young face. Why was he . . . ? âApologies for unanswered question. I...â He stopped speaking, merely earning himself a stare from her.
Oh, right, I asked him about. . . . Right. And, as to why I did, I still donât really know. she thought, nearly planting the palm of her hand to her face. The situation was weird, no doubt, she was doing something she never thought she would . . . but then, she was a weird girl.
âI - am unsure, but Harmonia will guide me in my struggles.â he finally answered her. His words were quick and concise, to the point, and he ceased speaking with that. But the answer, she knew how to react to that, she knew what that meant well enough. The answer seemed as if it were almost rehearsed, a response ingrained within him or something of the like. Though, that was probably to be expected, even if she didnât know the life led by a Follower, she imagined it was probably stale and regimented.
âUnsure, but Harmonia will guide me?â . . . .well, thatâs about as good a ânoâ as Iâll probably get out of him. she thought with a sigh, and a shake of her skull. âSo, thatâs a no then. . . .â There came a sigh, and her shoulders relaxing a bit, honestly, she really didnât know how to proceed forward with this. This really was uncharted territory for her, with someone not in the Following, she might know how to react, but to someone in it . . . she just didnât. . . . Nicoletta, he is a person, if you didnât see him as such then you wouldnât be in this situation. . . .
âYâknow if somethingâs wrong with you, you can just say as much, right?â Nicoletta asked him giving him a rather blasĂ© stare. Her eyes were half-lidded, and her voice rather dry, almost as monotone as the twinsâ. She was just letting her mouth go wherever it did from here on in. âYou donât have to say that youâll be guided through whatever is getting to you by âHarmonia,â If youâve got a problem, speak up about it, and donât let it fester. Or, thatâs what you should do; I know that however you do live, or whatever, is more or less a complete blank to me, but really. . . .â With this she crossed her arms, and tilted her head to the side a bit as her stance became more of a casual one. This really was weird for her, but . . . it felt normal enough. âReally . . . youâre as much a person as everyone else, and people all have problems. If everyone kept theirs completely quiet or to themselves, or simply relied on the divine to solve it and guide them, then . . . well,â she shook her head, âGah, what am I doing . . . ?â
Nicoletta found herself sighing again, âLook, I donât entirely know where I was going with that, but my point is that I asked you something, and well, you more or less gave me an answer that, while vague, completely pointed to you bluntly saying âno.â Given circumstances, yâcan tell me that something is wrong. You have every reason to and every reason to not since weâre strangers. I donât know you, so I canât judge, but then you have no reason to trust me with your problems too.â She commented. "So, if you have something bothering you, I'll listen."
_
It was as Elven had returned to the box that both of the silver-haired twins began to walk again, slowly so that he might catch up to them. They intended to remain wordless for now. It was what Nicoletta had requested of them, after all. However, when it was that Elven had spoken, greeting something/one, both Momchil and Amalia ceased their walking, and turned to look back at him. Both humanoid children found their crimson gazes going to the something which had mewled. They stared at the black creature as Elvenâs feet, expressions still rather vacant; yet there was a glint of curiosity within their eyes, if one were to look close enough. He went on, speaking to the creature. . . .
They didnât understand why that was, it didnât speak, nor could it understand completely what was being said to it. âSister Amalia . . . that creatures, I do not remember what it is called.â
Without looking at her twin, Amalia gave a dry response. âMother told me that such creatures are common as âpetsâ among humans. They are of a certain family of animals known as âfelines,â this one in particular, it is known as a âcat.ââ
âCat. . . .â he parroted her last word, a hint of wonderment seeped into that one quiet bit. He didnât understand it, why it was a human would attempt to converse with a creature who evidently did not understand what was being said to it, yet. . . . It fascinated him. The cat was so strange, its body covered in fur, the fact that there was a strange air to it, a calming sort that could not be explained. . . . As it was that Elven allowed the cat to climb onto himself, Momchil again spoke. âWhy do humans allow these cat creatures upon them, Sister Amalia?â
âThey are a form of companionship, used in the stead of other humans. Bonds form with them, and people come to value them so much as to treat them as this, brother Momchil.â The girlâs voice remained monotonous, as opposed to her brotherâs.
âHow very strange that is.â he murmured.
Elven approached them again, intending to follow, and the two remained in place, both simply looking at him and the cat upon his shoulders. There was a notable difference though, between the eyes of Momchil and Amalia. In the eyes of the former, there was a sense of puzzlement, and curiosity toward the black cat Kasper. And within Amaliaâs, there was little more than usual, only a faint glint of knowingness. Understanding of what it was that drove people to treat an animal as such, if only the knowledge within her was factual.
And, it was from the throat of Momchil that a rather strange and unexpected question came, â. . . .Sir Elven, your cat . . . would you please tell me about it?â
Elven observed the two twins as they discussed Kasper. He picked the cat from his neck carefully, balancing the box on his knee, earning a small hiss as he placed the feline on top of the box. After all, on such a hot day, it was hard to have extra body heat, especially in a place already covered by hair.
Did Momchil not know what a cat was? He seemed confused as Amalia explained very thoroughly, as if reciting from a text book, what the small animal was and why he was conversing so amiably with it. The cat tried to snuggle against his body without looking undignified, for Kasper was a cat who tended to consider himself higher, much higher, than others. The only one he saw even vaguely near to his level would be Elven, and maybe his aunt Amore. Basically, the people who fed him.
The raven haired boy stared down into his cat's eyes, before glancing up at the two twins. Momchil seemed amazed, though it was hardly perceivable. The girl, Amalia, didn't really change much in terms of expression, but then again, neither did Elven. He blinked, watching both of them as they conversed and as he got nearer, the conversation seemed to be directed his way.
As a voice rang out towards him, he realised that his attention was being called and he looked at Momchil, who seemed to be the one who was speaking. â. . . .Sir Elven, your cat . . . would you please tell me about it?â Momchil received a few blinks, Elven staring at him as he began to process the question. He wanted to talk about Kasper? The vain, self loving cat who mostly cared about himself?
Elven nodded slowly, holding the box with the now-sleeping cat on top. His eyes flicked from the cat and to Momchil and Amalia, observant and quiet, before he spoke up. "Of course, Mister Momchil. But we must walk at the same time, or we shall never reach our destination." he said, beginning to take small steps.
A few seconds passed as he thought of what to say. "This is Kasper. He's getting on in age, if I do say so myself, but Madam Aunt Amore says he could live for another ten years if we care for him. I do not think he despises me, but rather sees me as a trusted person who may feed him if he feels the need to eat." Elven said, his voice calm and collected. "I met him when he leaped onto my face some years ago. I was. . . ." The boy's voice trailed off as he sighed, words once again escaping his mind.
"I was mourning Si- Cousin Nympha and decided to open the window when Kasper jumped in. Perhaps he decided he liked me, though I am baffled as to why. I never spoke to him then, and barely looked at him. Maybe he just liked the fact that I gave him most of my food." Elven looked at the cat, mewling quietly from where he was. He frowned slightly, watching the cat. "Now that I think about it, he has no good points to discuss, Mister and Miss. Kasper steals food from the table, scratches me in the middle of the night to wake me and looks down on most people."
At this, he prodded the cat who blinked at looked at Momchil and Amalia, holding his paw up to his mouth. He licked it confidently, turning his nose up at the two, though he still eyed them with a feline curiousity, even sniffing the two slightly. "You can pet him if you want." he said, looking at Kasper as if to reprimand him from biting. If anything, he didn't want that 'Nico' (Surely, that was not her full name. People weren't just named 'Nico' and nothing else.) to come back only to find her siblings bitten by a cat with an ego issue. The biggest of sighs escaped his lungs.
"Do you not have any pets in your household, Mister Momchil and Miss Amalia?" Elven said, tilting his head left, before switching and going right. He looked behind him, then from side to side before finally looking on ahead. "Where exactly are we headed to, Mister Momchil and Miss Amalia?" The boy questioned them, as he was simply following their lead and not taking in his surroundings at all.
"No, she was taken." Bardon said plainly. "Weren't you paying attention?" While Bardon continued to follow the 'scent' of his blood mark on the girl, he took time to idly note that the girl's name. He marched quickly down the street, casting his eyes about occasionally to watch for anything that he should be wary of, say following members or police.
While walking he cast a glance back to the boy. "You know I never got your name either."
"So you are saying that I am able to explain my 'problems' and you can fix them, but my Mother Harmonia cannot?" he responded to her . . . at least the tone of this voice this time wasnât so full of hesitation and stutters. Even if it was laced with an edge of confusion. Hearing what she had said before, perhaps it was indeed a very confusing thing to have heard. Nicoletta did not know how it was this man lived, she didnât know if he really interacted with the everyday citizens of Portum Animas on a real level, having actual conversations, or just casually speaking about things that did not regard the Following. She could guess if that were the case, then yes, her words wouldâve been strange to hear. âI-I am afraid I do not understand the point being made: while it is noted that my 'problems' can be sorted out using human interaction, it does not explain your sudden curiosity in mine. For instance, I know nothing of you either, which compels me to beg the question: How can you be so certain that by voicing my own concerns that they shall be fixed?"
Well there was; the answer to her musings. He didnât comprehend it, the fact that she was showing concern for whatever was plaguing him. To his question and to his words, Nicoletta simply gave him a shrug. She didnât know if she could fix anything, nothing could certainly be fixed so simply . . . he didnât seem to understand that. Of course, itâs also true that itâs more than a little weird for a complete stranger to say that theyâll listen to your problems out of the blue like I did. But, thatâs just how I am. she thought, watching the Follower carefully. Though she was no expert, the man seemed . . . weary, in a manner of speaking. It was perhaps her interactions that were the culprit. Or maybe itâs lots of things just surmounting at once to show themselves without a single warning.
The teenagerâs periwinkle eyes never left him, and she continued to silently observe him, even when it was he ceased speaking, to look around for Goddess knew what. Probably had some place to be, he had groceries after all, and it was apparent enough that he was heading back somewhere, to a place she did not know. She was keeping him from a prior engagement.
The weariness she sensed in him made itself physically evident as he slipped the half-ruined book she was responsible for into his robe and again he spoke, this time, his voice returned to one of uncertainty. âI-I-I'm sorry miss if I came off to straight forward."
To his apology, Nicoletta shook her head, and gestured with her hand to signal that it was of no consequence. She hadnât expected anything less from him than what heâd said. âYou have no reason to apologize, given what I said; you had every reason to be straightforward. I was myself.â
With this said, the blonde repositioned her hands onto her hips and bent forward a bit, a rather matter-of-fact expression taking hold of her features. âI never said I was sure that telling me your problems would remedy them, because it might not. But bottling them up doesnât do much for your mental health either,â Nicoletta pointed up at the side of her head, âHarmonia might be there to guide your spirit, but having a physical being near you whoâs listening right then is different than that. Both are a means to an end, but at the same time, they provide different forms of comfort and aid. Even if your spirit is soothed by Harmonia, your physical or subconscious self might not always beâas a human is a human, sometimes the aid of another human is needed to absolve something completely.â She returned to standing up straight, her arms again crossed over her diaphragm. âPeople are flawed, and confiding in another flawed being provides a different sort of solace than confiding in divinity.â
âAnd to explain my âcuriosityâ into your problems, the problems of a stranger; itâs not curiosity, itâs âconcern.ââ Nicolettaâs voice came out somewhat snarky at that. âIâll be honest with you here; Iâm like many people in the city in that I cannot stand the Following. However . . .â she paused, and tilted her head to the side a bit. â. . . .however, as I said before, youâre as much a person as anyone else, and Iâd be shallow and an ass to go and hold onto hatred for you because of something which defines a deal many people. Stranger or not, if I see a person in some form of distress, I will worry about them, you are no exception.â
âNow, before my little tirade, you looked as if you were getting antsy, I take Iâm holding you up from something.â The girl simply continued to look at the man, âGiven this, Iâll shut up now, and let you speak. And know that if you do feel like talking to me about whatever, Iâm willing to walk with you for a while so that you can be on your way. Also, my name's Nicoletta, not 'Miss.'â
--
To his words, both of the twins gave a nod, though Amalia had looked to her brother, not understanding example what it was that so interested him about the creature known as a âcat.â It was simply an animal to her, just a something. It could not understand human speech, it itself could not talk or do much of anything, and it relied upon people for everything. . . . Despite her lack of understanding regarding the curiosity her brother felt toward the feline, she kept herself quiet, her eyes upon Elven as she and Momchil began to walk again, alongside him. Momchil himself had his crimson eyes upon Elven, and Kasper the cat, a spark of interest indeed over his pallor features. He was . . . unsure of how to react to the cat, he knew nothing more than what it was Amalia had just told him about felines, how people kept them as pets, so he didnât know. Perhaps hearing about an individual one, a unique one, would help him to better comprehend the appeal these creatures held to humans.
As Elven kept quiet for a few seconds, seeming to be thinking of what to say about the black cat, Momchil observed it, until the dark-haired boy began to speak. âThis is Kasper. He's getting on in age, if I do say so myself, but Madam Aunt Amore says he could live for another ten years if we care for him. I do not think he despises me, but rather sees me as a trusted person who may feed him if he feels the need to eat.â Momchil looked upon Elven intently, focusing as he spoke of the cat.
The tone of voice he took did not at all affect how Momchil was taking in the information on Kasper . . . indeed, the cat as a unique being was a rather interesting thing. The notion of him âgetting on in ageâ was unfamiliar with both Momchil and Amalia, however, as they did not yet grasp the concept of aging and such. . . . Living and dying, of those, they had only experienced living. Death had not visited the two in any form yet. Amalia, though not understanding what was so captivating about the feline, paid heed to what it was Elven was saying. Any information was something worth knowing, after all. "I met him when he leaped onto my face some years ago. I was. . . ." as it was that Elven ceased speaking with a sigh, both Momchil and Amalia cast their gazes up to him. Hearing a sigh was not a good thing, though they did completely know why, they knew this factually. A rather innocent look was upon Momchilâs face though, as Amaliaâs remained stoic. "I was mourning Si- Cousin Nympha and decided to open the window when Kasper jumped in. Perhaps he decided he liked me, though I am baffled as to why. I never spoke to him then, and barely looked at him. Maybe he just liked the fact that I gave him most of my food."
Amalia knew the definition of âmourning,â but the concept of it escaped her. As such, she could not at all bring herself to feel the slightest bit of empathy toward Elven. Momchil himself did not understand, or even know of this word yet. All he was interested in at the moment was learning as much about the cat creature. When it was that Kasper mewled, Momchilâs eyes flew back to him, a true twist of childishness within that seemed unusual. "Now that I think about it, he has no good points to discuss, Mister and Miss. Kasper steals food from the table, scratches me in the middle of the night to wake me and looks down on most people."
There were no good points to discuss of him? This caused Momchil to blink, questioningly and to look back at Elven uncertainly. . . . .nothing good? If there was nothing worthwhile about Kasper the cat, then why did he . . . ? It made no sense to Momchil, and to Amalia, it just seemed absurd. But then, that was how the human mind seemed to functionâif it was completely ludicrous, and even if the logic was not sound, people still acted anyway. It was something she didnât understand, and it was something she wasnât sure that she wanted to. When it was that Kasper eyed him and her, Amalia simply looked back at the cat, and tilted her head to the side ever so slightly. It was odd to her, that cat . . . though it was an animal, and not human, for that instance, it seemed to have displayed a semblance of humanity to it. Confidence, was it? Momchilâs mouth was slightly open, as he did as his sister, and tilted his head to the side in curiosity.
"You can pet him if you want." At hearing that said, gave a slight audible reaction of surprise, glancing back to the teenager, before looking back to the cat. He was going to be allowed to pet the cat . . . ? It would really be all right? "Do you not have any pets in your household, Mister Momchil and Miss Amalia?" Elven asked, before he spoke again, "Where exactly are we headed to, Mister Momchil and Miss Amalia?"
To this Amalia answered looking to Elven with a rather vacant expression upon her face. âOur destination is not the location written upon the box, Sir Elven. Despite what it was Sister Nico had asked of us, I believe that it would be best to let our Mother handle the situation of the ruined goods . . . we are headed toward our home.â She looked away from him, before tacking on one last bit. âAnd as you had asked, we do not have any sort of âpetâ within our home.â
Momchil did not respond to this, nor did he chime in, only, he was still looking at the cat, not entirely sure of what to do. He had been given permission to pet the creature, yet. . . . This was not something he was used toâfeeling the urge to do something such as this. It was pointless to want to touch the feline, but a sense of wonderment was urging him on to do it. Even if it was pointless, he wanted to do it? Strange. . . . So, as it was they walked, Momchilâs eyes remained glued onto Kasper as if he were the most fascinating thing in existence.
âSir Elven,â Momchil spoke up, âBefore you had said that Mister Kasper here had no worthwhile qualities to speak of . . . yet, if that were true, then why would it be that you keep him around? Why is it that you have taken him on as a companion, and kept him as such?â With this said though, Momchil observed the cat again, before it was that he made the choice in acting. . . . And with this the humanoid boy slowly, and uncertainly reach his sleeve covered hand out, and set it on the felineâs back, and gently began to pet him. âI do not understand this form of companionship, the sort between humans and animals . . . but Mister Kasper seems an interesting sort, as one well worth the strangeness.â
Hearing his words, Amalia looked to her brother stoically, she didnât understand his fascination, nor his want to touch the feline at all. . . .
To this Amalia answered looking to Elven with a rather vacant expression upon her face. âOur destination is not the location written upon the box, Sir Elven. Despite what it was Sister Nico had asked of us, I believe that it would be best to let our Mother handle the situation of the ruined goods . . . we are headed toward our home.â How incredibly useful, considering the fact that Elven didn't know who they were. He almost sighed, but stopped himself from letting out the rude sign. Elven instead listed to what the girl answered on the subject of his other question. âAnd as you had asked, we do not have any sort of âpetâ within our home.â
Elven nodded, opening his mouth slightly before speaking. "I understand, Miss Amalia. Hence the fascination of your brother, Mister Momchil?" The last statement was more of a question as he observed the latter, a small smile playing on his lips. Kasper looked at the boy, equally confused by the human with eyes matching his owner's, though lighter.
âSir Elven,â Momchil said, making Elven blink at the boy as he snapped out of his thoughts. âBefore you had said that Mister Kasper here had no worthwhile qualities to speak of . . . yet, if that were true, then why would it be that you keep him around? Why is it that you have taken him on as a companion, and kept him as such?â Elven looked at the boy, and then the cat. He tilted his head slightly, blinking once more. He eyed the cat slightly, wondering what made him keep the cat; why they'd both become so attached to eachother. Momchil reached out slowly, his clothed hand slipping out of the frilled material, and Elven cringed, awkwardly pulling his own sleeves down while trying not to drop the box. Maybe he had become obsessed with hiding his body, as his uncle Gamion put it.
Just as he was about to talk, Momchil carried on. âI do not understand this form of companionship, the sort between humans and animals . . . but Mister Kasper seems an interesting sort, as one well worth the strangeness.â
Well, Kasper was the weird sort of cat. He had a full black coat, silky smooth as if he'd groomed it himself in front of the mirror before leaving the house. He had different coloured eyes, one being a light blue and the other green with a ring of brown near the pupil, and the way he carried himself were as if he were a king. If Momchil had seen any other cat, he probably would have been disinterested, maybe as stoic as his sister on the subject.
Elven looked at the sky. "I guess, Mister Momchil. . . . I keep Kasper around because he keeps me around. We enjoy each other's company; he essentially saved my life when I saved his. For a cat, he's got a big personality, but he's lovable, even if he does bite me every time I mess with him." The black-haired boy let his index finger filter out, putting in in front of the cat, who was purring at Momchil and instantly caught his attention. He eyed the finger cautiously, before nipping at it quickly. Elven dodged the bite, covering his hand fully again.
"You see, I am like Kasper in many ways, Mister. I steal food from my very Sir Uncle Gamion's hands as he is about to eat it, I prod him in face to wake him when I experience nightmares, which is more than weekly, and I look down on very many people too. Opposites may attract, but I believe it was our similarities which brought us together." Elven closed his eyes, looking at the cat. He really had talked a lot about him. "He's a good cat though. So I keep him." Kasper looked at him and turned up his nose, as if to say he stays at his own volition. Elven stuck his tongue out at the cat and then mewled at him jokingly, causing Kasper to mewl back.
The youth smiled. "Kasper-cat?" he said nicely, smiling gently. "Do you want to let the nice Mister Momchil carry you? If he would like, of course. Kasper, I'm afraid you actually put a bit more weight on this already heavy box."
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