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Lee Monseft

"Silence is golden."

0 · 430 views · located in Japan, Ryouichi Academy.

a character in “Ryouichi Academy”, as played by Zalgo

Description

Lee "Babble" Monseft




Image

❝Silence is golden.❞

Frontier Psychiatrist | The Avalanches
Pepper Steak | Alias Conrad Coldwood




❝The Noise in the Flesh.❞





∞ Full Name ∞
Lee Monseft
"Why bother with names?"

∞ Nickname ∞
Babble, The Ghost of Redrum Asylum, Crazy Sound Guy.
"I like these names. If I had to have a name I'd pick one of those."

∞ Age & Year ∞
17(Junior)
"At least, that's what I was when I stopped counting."

∞ Gender ∞
Male
"That's what this body looks like."

∞ Sexuality ∞
Straight
"What was the question again?"

∞ Nationality ∞
American
"Yup. I pick up other languages pretty quickly though."

∞ Face Claim ∞
Picture provided
"..."

Image




❝All that glitters is not gold.❞





∞ Height & Weight ∞
4'8" & 98 lbs
"I can reach the cookie jar! Just need a box to stand on sometimes."

∞ Hair color/Length/Quality ∞
It's pitch black and hangs down to his neck at it's farthest. He almost never combs or arranges his hair so it's always kind of disheveled and disorganized.
"Honestly, who cares? Not I for one."

∞ Eye color ∞
His eyes are a light greyish blue.
"I've got normal eyes. I'm the unusual one here! Haha!"

∞ Distinguishable Facial Features ∞
Not exactly the healthiest of skin but otherwise, nothing notable.
"Does my nose count as a distinguishable facial feature?"

∞ Birthmarks/Scars/Tattoos/Piercings ∞
Plenty of scars, all surgically made. Most of them are hidden underneath his hair, although some do show through when his hair is parted or pulled back.
"Doctor had a fine stitching hand."

∞ Physical Description ∞
His skin is pale as bone, a result of his sheltered life at the asylum. He's quite short for his age and he has a naturally scrawny physique which is only accentuated by his sparse diet. On the surface he looks relatively well enough if a little pale and missing both his hands but the devil is in the details. When one looks closer one can see the scars atop his head where many tests took place. The scars on his body are fewer and much less precise, some the work of the security guard and some the result of an accident of his own making.

His absence of hands is very notable, seeing as how it effects almost all aspects of his life. He covers these stubs by wearing long sleeved baggy shirts. His sense of fashion is relatively absent so he goes and wears whatever the heck he wants, regardless of how strange it looks. He is not particularly strong but he is exceptionally agile and possesses an uncanny accuracy even without the aid of his powers.

"If people's bodies were portraits of their experiences, mine would be the one the art gallery would keep locked away in it's storage."

Image




❝All that shimmers is not sold❞





∞ Habits/Quirks ∞
✦ Whenever he talks or makes sound in general his mouth never opens or moves at all.
✦ When he talks to someone he speaks using their voice instead of his own by default. He never uses his real voice for reasons he will not reveal.
✦ His eyes lose focus sometimes, zoning out completely when he's focusing on matters pertaining to his power.
✦ He loves to make pop culture references. The media is the only source of happiness he can recall from his childhood.

"I am sound. I do not speak, I create noises. Sometimes these noises form words. Mostly they don't form anything."

∞ Likes ∞
β™₯ Silence, the golden sound.
β™₯ Art, especially of the visual medium.
β™₯ Discord, the closest thing to true freedom anyone can have.
β™₯ Peanut butter & Jelly sandwiches, the quietest food to eat.

"These are a few of my favorite things."

∞ Dislikes ∞
βœ– Loud Noises, irony at it's ripest.
βœ– Communication, everything that is wrong in life he attributes them to it.
βœ– Radios, the very invention that drove him off the cliffs of sanity.
βœ– The sound of people vomiting, it's just awful.

"Sound unbound. Sanity unwound."

∞ Talents ∞
βœ” Doing tasks using his feet in lieu of his hands.
βœ” Dodging blows.
βœ” He is really adept at using his powers imaginatively and tries to think outside the box when it comes to problem solving.
βœ” Thinking fast on his feet.
βœ” His tolerance for pain is quite superb. All those years of listening to the radio had conditioned him to endure excruciating torture.
βœ” He is excellent at gathering information. His ability allows him to hear far more than almost everyone can.

"I've had stranger weeks."


∞ Hobbies ∞
βœ” Playing with words.
βœ” Looking at things in a strange manner for extended periods of time.

"I don't do an awful lot. Maybe I'm lazy?"

∞ Fears ∞
✘ People touching his arm stumps. He has sort of a phantom limb syndrome effect going on.
✘ Radios. Objects which bring such great pain that even the memory of them hurts him. He is right to fear them.
✘ Glass. After what happened to his hands he's quite reasonably skittish around windows and similar glass constructs.
✘ Intimacy. The closest thing he's seen to romance in his entire life thoroughly scarred his already battered and worn mind and as a result he wants nothing to do with it now.

"I blame it all on this gross grey thing inside my skull."

∞ Flaws ∞
✘ He is difficult to talk to. He places little value in speaking coherently and only does so if it entertains him.
✘ He has no hands.
✘ He is not particularly strong and he isn't very hardy either.
✘ His power's strength gets weaker the farther from himself it's located.
✘ Tuning forks interfere with his powers creating bizarre fluctuations.

"The doctor said I was sick. If I am, I don't want to get better."

∞ Secrets ∞
βŒ› How his hands went missing.
βŒ› What happened in the asylum.
βŒ› The fact he murdered his doctor.

"The doctor fixed me. What else is there to say?"




❝All that shivers is not cold❞





∞ Unnatural Ability ∞
Sound.

Almost everything to do with sound. From the vibrations to the way the mind interprets these signals, he rules the sonic domain with the power of his mind. Many fringe doctors who worked on his case believe it to be the result of psychic phenomenon. He controls sound not with his vocal cords but with his sheer willpower.

He can produce a dizzying number of effects using his sonic manipulation. These effects are limited in a way very similar to how sound itself is limited. Like sound, his sonic effects grow weaker the farther away from him it goes. Like sound his powers are more powerful when traveling through thicker mediums than air such as liquids or solids. Using these principles Lee can not only produce sonic effects externally but internally as well. He used to be able to use sound to make his hand vibrate so fast that the edge of his hand could cut flesh and bone. His hands are gone now but he has learned how to use that particular technique in different fashions such as "Shuffling."

Shuffling is a technique he uses by using sound to vibrate his legs and then take a rapid series of short steps which allow him to move with extreme speed and precision. The speeds he can achieve when shuffling can come close to the speed of sound. Close but not up to, Wind resistance and friction serving as a limiting factor.

At maximum vibration he can go from shuffling to hovering. When hovering he no longer needs to be touching the floor to move in the horizontal plane. He can prevent himself from falling any distance while hovering but he cannot make himself ascend any distance higher than he already is. Additionally unlike shuffling he has far less control of his speed and direction when hovering, like as if he were moving on ice.

His power doesn't exhaust him unless it involves his body directly. When shuffling, he wont be using up as much energy as he would be running the same distance he's shuffled. Despite the energy saving quality of it, his power allows him to travel much farther and faster than possible for regular humans but that makes it quite easy for him to expend a lot of energy rather rapidly without even noticing. His appetite can become quite ravenous when this situation occurs.

He does not know how this power originated within him. He simply assumes it's because he's the human manifestation of sound's will made flesh but the truth of the matter eludes his current knowledge. This power has been with him his whole life, longer than he's even known of it's existence.

"I am sound. This... this is what I am."

∞ Clubs ∞
Art Club. He joined it because he does appreciate the visual arts.
"A better understanding of how art is made gives a deeper appreciation for art overall."

∞ Sports ∞
Track and Field. It's the only sport that promotes an exclusion of any activity from the hands as well as being something he can do solo.
"I didn't much care for this choice. I didn't much care for any choice though..."

∞ Personality ∞
He's nuts.

To say he is strange would be an understatement. When he talks he doesn't always stay on topic, often going into outright babble. He hears everything that is going on around him whether he likes it or not unless he uses his powers to counteract his passive sound reception. He has a fascination with the way words sound like they do. He puts little value in cooperation, only doing so if he must. He doesn't much value people's company either, seeing as how people have brought him nothing but misery.

Above all else he loves the golden noise. When he is able to he just likes to sit in absolute silence, no sounds around. This is only possible for him by producing the golden sound, a sound which is so quiet it drowns out all other noises until all that's left is silence. The real effect of this is similar to a technique people commonly use. The golden sound is basically all sounds present played back at the exact same frequency. As the waves hit they cancel each other out, creating silence. All he does is constantly play all the sounds he hears back against the original sounds, eliminating both for sweet silence. One day he hopes that he can strengthen his powers to an extent where he can broadcast the golden noise across the entire world, drowning out all sound and putting an end to communication forever. He believes once people lose the crutch that is talking society can begin to be more honest with itself, expressing ideas and emotions through actions instead of words. Until then he simply practices honing his powers when he can, welcoming any opportunity to test his abilities and improve. If someone wants to get on his good side then they better be quiet. After all, silence is golden.

"I didn't ask for this personality. The doctor picked me this one from a catalog."

Image




❝All that withers is not old.❞





∞ Romantic Interest ∞
No
"No"

∞ Most Precious Person ∞
Himself, and even that's tenuous.
"I only understand myself. Just me and nobody else."

∞ Family ∞
Father - Seth Monseft, Alive

Mother - Esther Monseft, Alive

Younger Brother - Danse Monseft, Alive, Unknown by Lee

"I can't blame them. I'd of forsaken me too if I were them."

∞ History ∞
From the day he was born, no one liked him. Not even his own mother could stand him. Nothing he could say would change a thing. His parents, his peers, his teachers and anyone else who listened to him speak all immediately disliked him without fair judgement. He never knew why things were why they were. How could people hate him if they didn't even know him? The answer came in the form of a book to the back of the head. It wasn't even meant for him, it was just a careless toss by someone trying to pass a book to a friend and missing. Inside Lee's head something shook loose. A binding which kept him in check sprung open, unveiling the disgusting truth within. All the sounds in the school hit him like a train. Shoes on hallway floors, chalk on chalkboards, people talking, people laughing, all of these and more booming in his ears like gunshots. His parents had to come to the school and drag his prone form out of the school since he was too occupied with screaming and writhing in pain to walk. Many doctors and just as many unanswered questions later his parents sat, stumped as to what the heck was wrong with Lee. One doctor had recommended taking him to a psychiatrist to see if his problems were a neural imbalance.

His family brought him to Dr. Ritter and presented the case of Lee Monseft for him to solve. Many sessions followed and each one stumped the fine doctor. The doctors reputation for never having had a patient he couldn't diagnose was in real jeopardy. Day after day however Lee seemed to be getting better with each day. The truth was that he was getting better at controlling his powers. He was learning how to control the sounds so they didn't roar in his ears. The doctor knew that soon the parents and Lee would not have any problems soon and he would be off his case. Ritter's pride could not allow that to happen so he insisted to Lee's parents that the boy be kept at an asylum where they could treat him and keep him safe from others and himself until he was cured. No sane parents would of agreed to the doctors demands but these parents had spent all of Lee's childhood growing to hate him. With the thought that they would never have to hear his irritating voice again they agreed to let Lee become Dr. Ritter's problem from then to the day he's cured.

The doctor had Lee secluded to the Redrum Sanitarium where he could study him further. From the age of eight years old Lee spent every single day locked in a padded white room with his arms bound in a straight jacket. The facility housed the more psychotic crazy people, regularly people who were criminally insane. Ordinary procedures would of never had a child locked inside this place but Ritter knew a few back doors in the system he abused to get his pet project assigned there. The doctor's personal playground, Lee's personal hell.

It was a number of things that drove Lee out of his mind. The doctor brought Lee into his lab for "Sessions" where Ritter would experiment on him with different types of equipment to measure his reactions to various sounds. Many of these sessions did not end well for Lee. Sometimes during sessions he would pass out from the pain and be forced awake in order to continue the experiment. The doctor practiced many fringe methods of psychiatry, even some that were outlawed, all just to try and find the answer to the ultimate question: What's wrong with Lee?

Besides the doctor himself the rest of the hospital was not much better. Most of the inmates were for the most part harmless to him. Some of them however were dangerous and put in this place for a good reason. Then there was the guard. The guard for his sector only really took this job so he could bully people who couldn't hit back. The man took great delight in punishing patients for even the slightest infractions with excessive violence. Worse yet the guard would abuse the female patients in Lee's sector in a very different manner. But out of all the sins his guard could commit, what did Lee believe to be his worst?

His radio. Every single day the guard have his radio at a rather loud volume that was just quiet enough to not disturb the other employees. The noise from the radio was torture for Lee. He could hear the sounds a radio makes that no other human can hear. This sound caused him physical agony and his control over his own power was minimal so he couldn't modify it to protect himself. Often times he would try to reduce the sound and wind up only making it worse. At night the guard would leave the radio on as he resigned for the night, the cause for many a sleepless night for Lee.

This continued for eight years. Eight long years of endless sound torture and sleeping only when the night guard bothered to turn off the radio which was not often enough for Lee's sanity. On one hand the constant pain provided incentive to learn how to control his powers until he could command the sounds around him. On the other hand constant suffering and the doctors torture sessions combined with far too many sleepless nights did not make for a sane individual in any way, shape or form.

Dr. Ritter was not having much fun either though he was certainly having much more fun than Lee was having. Eight long years and very little success had frustrated Ritter to no end. This, his magnum opus, was delayed until it became a metaphorical albatross around his neck. Had he not bragged so much about how interesting this case was and how he was going to crack this nearly unsolvable puzzle he could of hidden the lack of success he had produced. Because of his hubris word about this case began to spread, hurting the doctors reputation far and wide. It had gotten so infamous that the doctor was starting to lose clients over it. It used to be that the doctor was booked for sessions well into the next year. Now he only really sees work once or twice a week. His pride weathered the pangs of failure almost constantly at this point. Lee was a reminder each day he saw him, the kid who should of sailed him into success, wealth, fame and an early retirement but brought him nothing but failure and spite. His new nickname for Lee was "Babbling idiot."

Lee on the other hand had managed to make his life livable and was now learning how to pull himself out of the deep black pit that was his existence in the asylum. For a sixteen year old who had forgotten what the sun looked like without bars in front of it he had managed his situation better than most. A recent trick he had learned was "The Song of Despair." In actuality he had learned how to create infra-sound, a type of sound just below the human hearing spectrum that produces anxiety, uneasiness, extreme sorrow, nervous feelings of revulsion or fear, chills down the spine, and feelings of pressure on the chest in all that hear it. He tested this song of his out on the guard watching over his sector. The song was a marvelous success as the guard quickly became anxious and unhappy. Suddenly, the job the guard thought was custom made for him became horrible. Weeks of non-stop infra-sound was starting to make the guard loopy until, at long last, he finally quit. His reasons were actually quite hilarious to Lee. The man who made every patient in this sector's lives a living hell now believed that the place was haunted. The guard was too scared to go back to the post he so loved.

It was the revelation of this power his sound had over people that made him realize just why nobody liked him all along. No one liked him because his voice was producing sounds that no one could hear but influenced them all the same. He had an irritating voice, one that made people hate him not because of who he is but simply because their brains were subtly picking up the noise and associating that feeling with their opinions of him. All this time poor little Lee had tried so hard to get along with people when it was actually impossible until now.

All he did was laugh. And Laugh. And Laugh.

His mind gone he laughed, the laughter traveling all throughout the asylum. Everyone from his fellow patients, patients in other wings of the asylum and all the staff and visitors could hear disembodied laughter which seemed to come from the walls themselves. The entire staff of Redrum Asylum evacuated the building in fear, leaving the patients to shiver in their cells in absolute terror. All the staff had left except one man: Dr. Ritter. He knew what was going on all along. Observing this breakthrough he stormed all the way to his cell. The doctor dragged him all the way back to his lab, Lee laughing all the way there. Ritter strapped him onto a large metal table and plugged in an electric saw. He was going to figure out what was wrong with him once and for all, regardless of whether or not he would survive the operation. Lee continued to laugh. "This is the end for you, you babbling idiot! I will find out what's wrong with you if it's the last thing I do!"

The laughing stopped. "But doctor, the answer is simple."

"What!?"

"I am sound, doctor. I know who I am now. I am sound's avatar, it's will made flesh. I am here to do what must be done. I am... I am..."

He gazed directly into the doctor's cold stare.

"I am Babble."

At that instant the whole table shook violently. He transmitted his sound waves through the table, causing every component of the table to vibrate wildly. The screws holding the straps to the table came loose, allowing Babble to spring free. The doctor couldn't believe what he was seeing, the power he was witnessing. Before the doctor could react Babble lunged for the doctor, knocking him down onto the ground and on the ground he held him. The doctor swung at Babble's head with the live saw, buzzing with a dangerous vibe, but he caught the doctor's arm before he could hit him. Babble touched the side of the saws motor and transmitted his destructive sound through the machine. The whole thing shook wildly before the plug fell from the socket. The vicious whirring of the blade came to a dead silence. Dr. Ritter could only watch in dread as Babble looked deep into his eyes as though he was staring into his very mind and watching his fears play out before him. "Doctor, you should be proud. Your reputation remains unmarred. After all, you have solved..." Babble no longer moved his lips to speak as he spoke in the doctors own voice, albeit with a mocking tone. He held out his right index finger and middle finger. They began to vibrate until they were just a blur.

"... The unsolvable case."

The doctors screamed loud and clear but there was nobody left in the building to save him. No one came to help him when Babble inserted his fingers through his left eye and whisked his brain like a chef whisks an egg. Babble had just learned the art of singing to his limbs and decided to honor his fine doctor's achievement by letting him be the first to fall to it's melody. After that liberating resolution he went and hit the panic release button. With a buzz all the doors unlocked, the prisoners of this asylum set free. To ensure all the patients made their ways out instead of lingering and causing trouble he sang the song of despair to encourage them in their exodus. All the patients of Redrum Asylum were unleashed upon the neighboring towns for better or for worse.

For another year Babble still called the asylum his home. When the police came to investigate he hid from them by silencing his movements and lurking in the darkness. He used his phantasmal laughter and song to scare them all away. As the police fled the asylum he could hear them speaking of him using a different name: The Ghost of Redrum Asylum. He grinned when he heard them call him that, very much liking the idea of haunting the asylum he was kept for so many years. The asylum had food stores which were meant to feed an entire asylum so Babble never really ran out of food during his stay. Eventually the abandoned asylum became a tourist attraction for the nearby towns. People would come and take pictures of each other in front of the haunted asylum. Some people even dared to brave the halls of the asylum thinking the whole haunting a joke. Babble never did grow tired of scaring them away. His favorite times were when he was truly alone. The police had cut the power to the asylum so the entire building was almost pitch black all the time. Better yet, with no one around and no electronics running everything was completely and utterly silent. No more pain, no more suffering, only silence. In all his life Babble had never known such inner peace than when he was simply lying in the inky darkness of the labyrinthine halls of Redrum Asylum listening to nothing at all. His mind was finally clear of all the anger and sadness that he normally endured. During his isolation he practiced trying to recreate the sound of the hallways he meditated in. He tried and tried until he finally managed to grab hold of it.

The golden sound. A sound that was pure silence yet it would drown out all other sounds until only silence remained. It was like a sound suppressing sound. The only problem was that it was limited by range. His power had great range but the stronger an effect he wanted to produce the closer to himself he had to produce it. He could only project the golden sound so far and it made him sad to think that outside there are people who could not hear this beautiful noise. Despite that little detail however he was as happy as happy could be, with not a care in the world and all the freedom in the world to do whatever he liked. It was only the cruel mind of fate who would conjure up the idea of taking Babble from his sanctuary.

Someone came to the asylum, nothing too unusual for him. His plan was to scare this new visitor out, one way or another. This person ceased to resemble prior invaders after remaining despite the spooky scary stuff he threw at him. He did not know this but this guy knew exactly what was going on, as well as what he was doing. It became all too clear what the man had in store when the stranger made it to the head office. As Babble was cooking up new haunted effects he could try the speakers in the building suddenly buzzed to life. Somebody had turned on the backup power to this building and he had a hunch as to who did it.

Blasphemy! Babble's thoughts cried out in outrage as the very asylum which was his new true home turned on him. The stranger was using the speakers to push Babble into a corner using the pain as a subtle incentive. He did try to destroy the speakers to no avail as the speakers weathered his onslaught and responded in kind with harsh noises. After much running Babble did eventually find himself trapped in a room in one of the upper floors. The hallway outside the door had a speaker on each corner blasting away and the only other exit was a window. He heard the footsteps of the intruder coming. He had no way of knowing the mans intentions but after the sonic assault he laid Babble only assumed the worst. He had to escape.

There was only one way out. He had this idea in his head that he'd cut open the glass like in those cartoons where a guy would use glass cutting tools or something similar to slice a circular hole through a glass window. As he sang to his hands and brought them to the window the instant his hand made contact with the pane of glass it shattered. People do not often grasp just how sharp glass can be.

Before the sensation could even reach his brain his hands were gone. His hands had been vibrating like crazy, passing through the same space hundreds of thousands of times a second. When glass occupied the same space his hands were passing through that meant his hands were hitting the glass hundreds of thousands of times a second. The time it took for the hands to come off could only really be calculated with a negative exponent.

As he looked down he could see the bloody stumps that once sported hands with five nimble fingers. The pain was relatively low as the cut removed most of the nerves and the adrenaline dulled the rest. It was more the out of body feeling that washed over him as though he had just fallen apart, which was true in a limited sense. Of course, reality came knocking as the door opened behind him in his state of confusion. He turned the face the man who was pursuing him, backing away as the figure almost came into view. Such a meeting was interrupted as in his absentmindedness he had backed into the window and in blind misfortune happened to fall backwards out the window's frame.

The fall seemed to take forever. He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out. All he could hear is the howl of the wind rushing up past him as he descended.

Crunch.

...

He woke up an undefined duration of time later. He was in a hospital, covered from the neck down in bandages. Unknown to himself his power had unconsciously protected him from the fall by vibrating the air below him, causing a surge of excited air to shoot up as he fell down. If he had fallen as a normal person would have, between the height of the fall and the shards of broken glass at the bottom, he would have died without a doubt. All he knew however was that he fell and yet he was alive. It was further proof to him that he was put on this planet to serve sound's purpose for him and it was not done with him yet.

The police could not explain the event's that took place. They did not associate him with the haunting or any of the happenings that took place there. As far as they were concerned, he was just some kid who wandered into the haunted asylum and took a fall from which he was lucky to be alive. It seemed the mystery of the asylum would remain unsolved.

After a few months of healing one of the nurses dropped him off a letter. It was an invitation to Ryouichi Academy, a school of which he happened to meet the qualifications for somehow. Included in the envelope was a plane ticket to the city the academy was situated in. Well enough to go out with just a cast he took his plane on over. The ticket was first class, which was quite nice. They served orange juice in a champagne glass. When he arrived he saw a guy standing at the airport with a sign with his name on it, waiting for him. He immediately assumed the strange character to be a cop and avoided his detection. He signaled for a cab and when it came near he noticed it's license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror, a rather uniquely stylized vehicle indeed.

With a wave and a joke and a laugh he departed the cab driven by a most amusing driver and proceeded on his way to the school. To make a long story short after he got in he and the governing body came to an arrangement regarding his stay. The agreement was that he could use only the powers necessary for him to function within the school, nothing more. It was a tough bargain but he didn't feel safe out on the street where he could be assaulted like he was back at the asylum, a place of utter safety in his mind. He reluctantly agreed and thus his enrollment into the school began.



∞ Other ∞
Thoughts on other character to be added soon.
"Character Thought"[/font]


So begins...

Lee Monseft's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Haruki Shinobu Character Portrait: Charlie Rae Stewart Character Portrait: Yasuo Kuwabara Character Portrait: Viola Amantius Character Portrait: Kageno Hikari Character Portrait: Norio Higure Character Portrait: Lee Monseft
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

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#, as written by Zalgo
Sound. From the sonic vibrations to the psychology of it's interpretation, he embodied it all. Whatever sound was made, is made and has yet to be made becomes him. Or at least, that is how he saw it. While the truth eluded him he could only construct a reality from the pieces of his mind left over from the fall. Yes, the fall, the moment he hit the ground and the world shattered with him. He did try to piece himself back together but many of the pieces didn't fit back in evenly. He could of asked the handymen but they both forsook him right before the fall. He couldn't blame them, he didn't respect them like he should of. If only they'd forgive him.

Sleeping wasn't fun for him. He tried to dream but all he could see was the world around him, colorless shapes defined by sonic ricochets. While eyes work by seeing light reflected off objects he saw both with his eyes and with his mind, and the mind's eye could see beyond the walls around him to an extent. He didn't fully control this method of perception, his grasp on how to look around was still tenuous. All he could definitely see was his room, the hall and the rooms adjacent and parallel to his own and a small distance outside his window.

Hearing on the other hand was a beast of a different complexity. Had he not practiced the art of silence he would be hearing all sounds within a several mile radius. He would hear literally everything, from the ever present thunder of footsteps down to the slightest rustling of the grass and even other waves passing through the area, such as radio waves. Ah yes, the artificial waves. Sounds born of nightmare machines, machines designed to imprison sounds and corrupt them until they are nothing but electronic insanity.


Many years of enduring the sounds had taught him how to cope with it all. He learned the art of silence, the golden sound. In his mind he concentrated on emitting the golden sound from himself, fighting back the noises. This way, he was finally able to sleep at last. Of course it wasn't perfect, not yet anyways. Loud enough sounds could still overpower the golden sound much to his chagrin. It was another technique he was working hard to perfect but as anyone knows, perfection is not easy.

His eyes groggily opened as he awoke from his restless slumber. It was another night of poor rest but at least poor rest was better than none. He went about his usual routine for the morning in his new life. Brushing his teeth while holding the toothbrush with his feet was quite a task, he was still a little clumsy with the brush despite the practice. Back in the asylum the staff didn't trust him with a toothbrush so they did all the work for him. Afterwords he wasn't exactly worried about hygiene being all alone with the whole asylum to himself. Now he was expected to look at least reasonably presentable and he didn't have hands to work with. Half of the toothpaste and saliva mixture found itself on his pajama top, older stains attesting to the fact that this wasn't the first time.

As for breakfast he had his favorite: a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich. He wasn't brave enough to use a knife to try and cut some slices of bread to use considering his history with sharp objects so he used the only thing he could rely on.


Shk Shk


The sound of a knife cutting focused into a point finer than a needle and exerting enough pressure to break apart bread. He sliced himself two pieces of bread and put the rest back into it's bag. He didn't fully know just how powerful he could make his sounds cut but he reckoned it would be fun to find out some time. For now though it was time for the peanut butter and jelly. He managed to unscrew the lid to the jar with his feet after a couple minutes of working with it. With a very subtle sound he excited the peanut butter within causing the delicious, smooth, creamy butter goodness to pour out like a liquid. He poured himself just enough peanut butter for his sandwich. Now done with that he tipped the jar back up, licking the excess peanut butter which clung to the rim of the jar up. Taking the lid off was a bit fiddly but putting it back on with his feet took him twice as long as he had to get the lid and screw it on without it falling off.

The matter of applying the jelly was not really different in any significant fashion. Just a matter of working with the cap and putting the jelly on without spilling any. It went with just as much success as the peanut butter. Now with both the peanut butter and the jelly on he could finally taste the fruits of his efforts as he bit into the soft doughy surface of his sandwich. It was practically everything he loved in life. It was soft, it was easy to eat with his feet in lieu of hands, the grape was sweet, the peanut butter was nutty and smooth, it was filling and best of all was that it was quiet. Every other food he's known has been noisier than the good ole' peanut butter jelly sandwich. Breakfast cereal always rattled around like crazy while the milk sloshed and burbled, steaks tended to sizzle and squish most disgustingly and don't get him started on potato chips.


After he was done with his most delectable breakfast he put the jars back in the cabinets which were lined with rows of jars containing both peanut butter and grape jelly. He went ahead and changed out of his pajamas into his usual apparel. It was quite difficult for him to get dressed without hands so he had picked clothes which were rather simple to get into. Even with the simplistic clothing it was still a daily challenge he had to put up with for public decencies sake. Didn't want to go and anger the big head, make it grow large and red and possibly make it explode! That would be bad. He wanted to stay here where he was allowed to live and there was a modicum of safety. Out in the street he was fair game for people like the one who ruined his nice, quiet asylum before making him go ruin his hands and fall out a window onto nasty stabbing glass, made particularly for poking. In order to stay he had to be good, only use the sounds he needed, nothing more. It was a huge sacrifice, giving up free reign of his own domain but it was simply an offer he couldn't refuse.

Still, he tried to not let mean ole' mister big head ruin his super awesome days with his big headiness. Dressed in some relatively boring attire he opened the door with his mouth since his feet were now clad in boots. The doorknob didn't taste very good but there was little he could do about it. If he wanted security he couldn't just make the knob and all it's little bits wiggle loose and fall off. He had to do everything in what he considered to be

excruciatingly long and annoying manners. Still, now that his door was shut it was time to run! But not shuffle, no that would be bad and he had to be good. "Always good, never bad. No play and all work make johnnies day go grey." He repeated to himself in the voice of a creepy little girl, his mouth shut the whole time while he chanted his little mantra and skipped girlishly down the halls and out the doors towards the school. He lived on the schools dormitories because that was the only place he could stay but fortunately that meant his school wasn't too far away. Still, his little skipping trip seemed to take centuries in comparison to the speeds he's shuffled back in the good ole' days.

Finally! In what seemed like forever he finally made it to the class he was supposed to be at. No longer repeating his little saying he looked at the door for at least a solid minute, wondering if he should just run into it and see if it would open that way.

...

Wham!


The door shook as he threw himself at it, simply relying on fates capricious hand to determine the result. Turns out the door really was closed after all. His body bounced back from the door, reeling from the impact. He wasn't badly hurt in any real sense but it did sting. Then again, he was familiar with pain to say the least.

He took the time to shake his boot off and open the door with his foot before sliding his footwear back on. He strode into the classroom quite triumphantly, acting as though nothing abrupt just occurred. Weaving through the small maze of desks he quickly found one that wasn't occupied which he assumed was his by process of elimination. He dropped himself into his seat and looked around with one eyebrow quirked up, his eyes following the odd stares accompanying the awkward silence that followed after his rather unorthodox entrance. He failed to notice the bruise which was already starting to develop on his forehead.

Things started to normalize after the moment passed, people resuming their studies. Inevitably it came to his sudden realization that he was under equipped for the class, possessing neither a pencil nor paper on his person. He looked around at all the other people who were writing on their paper, more or less. Hmm, seems to be quite the pickle. Good thing I'm a pickleologist! He started to ponder a solution to his current quandary.

He theorized that he could try and hold on to the sound of the teacher speaking, taking an echo of his words home and then studying the sound instead. Sounds good! But not too good, no. Much too loud. So much noise... He really didn't appreciate being stuck inside a building full of people. People itching, moving, speaking, pencils rubbing, chalk squeaking, chairs sliding, blood running, hearts pumping, eyes blinking, cells gurgling and much more. He was permitted use of the golden sound on himself alone, that was the deal he made after all. He couldn't take the full effect of all these sounds in his head all the time if he wasn't allowed to manage it.


The golden sound dulled the incoming sounds as they approached him, filtering out the quieter sounds so he could focus on what was going on. He listened to the teacher speak, taking an echo of the words so he could listen to it after school was over and done with. He looked around at the other students around him. He knew little about most of them. He had a passing knowledge of the other people who were in Track and Field.

Art wasn't very popular it seemed as he didn't see a lot of people in it. There were a few people here he recalled seeing on the roster for art. There was Haruki, Kaori and Norio just to name a few.

He wondered just how long until fate would flip this day upside down, or perhaps right side up considering how dull it was already. With his golden sound up and functional it was harder for him to get distracted by the noises around. him. Even the scratching of the pencils were alleviated by this most familiar golden sound, the absence of sound. It was just quiet enough in this room for him to properly listen to the teacher. There were other people talking in the classroom, not being all too considerate he believed. All he could do was sit, his eyes darting about suspiciously, and pretend he was doing something instead of just sitting there. Gotta be good... Not bad...