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| Favorite "Gifts" story? |
| "The Gift", Danni |
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42% |
[ 3 ] |
| "Box of Tricks", Light |
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28% |
[ 2 ] |
| "Social Skills", Ialo |
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14% |
[ 1 ] |
| "Secret Santa", Luli |
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0% |
[ 0 ] |
| "Secret Admirer", Petra |
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0% |
[ 0 ] |
| "Accidental Romanticizing" Asmodeous |
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14% |
[ 1 ] |
| "[It's better to give than receive]", Beelzebub |
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0% |
[ 0 ] |
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| Total Votes : 7 |
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Eloquent Conversationalist
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 Posted: Fri Dec 21, 2012 9:26 pm
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Posted: Sat Dec 22, 2012 10:13 am
"Cold Memories"
Alec The wind moaned through the evergreens surrounding the barren field that Alec now stood in. The young man was bundled up against the bitter cold and snow that northern Wisconsin was famous for. Small, hardened flakes of ice fell from the sky like tiny glass shards, appropriately cutting through the air and biting into Alec's exposed face. His cheeks were flushed red as his body attempted to combat the elements with little success.
In another place, another time, Alec might have had the sense to warm himself up with some simple sorcery. But not today, and certainly not here. Right now, Alec's mind was far away from his body, a body that stood in a flattened field of snow surrounded by sloping hills and creaking pines. Alec was the only soul out in this barren portion of the Dells, every other living being was hibernating in some warm crevice or cavern. Alec stood tall, a single purple speck on a canvas of white. The only other deviation from this ivory blanket were two small blocks of granite, standing just tall enough that their tops were exposed above the snow.
Alec was no longer standing in that field, but instead was now himself at the age of 8. He remembered a Christmas that year, a Christmas that was jovial, bright and warm. He was in his spiderman footie pajamas, with tiny crochet webs under his armpits that would spread out like a flying squirrel. He remembered loving those pajamas, running around the house and pretending to either climb on the walls or glide from the couch to the coffee table. That Christmas had been very special. The tree was big and bright with lights and ornaments, the fireplace crackled with flame and warmth from the burning logs. Decorations and snowflakes Alec had made out of cutup paper were hanging all around the house, and savory scents wafted out of the kitchen from his mother's baking. Cookies, chocolate chip, and possibly a cake were in the works.
Alec had received almost everything on his list that year; a plastic castle play set with knights and dragons included, a Darth Vader helmet with voice changer, a brand new Knex set, and a Playstation with Spyro the Dragon. Alec had played with all of his toys like a madman, thanking his parents up and down for so many great things. But it wasn't the presents that Alec remembered the most. It was later that night, as he was starting to fall asleep in his mom's lap while they were watching Rudolph. Alec remembered looking up and seeing his father looks mom, and Alec could not recall ever seeing him so content as he did then. The love he had for his mom was evident right then, it was so thick that Alec could feel it radiating from him. It was so soothing, so comforting that Alec remembered snuggling into his mom's lap and falling asleep right then.
Fast forward a few years. Alec was now 12, halfway through middle school and secretly trying to master his magical abilities. His parents were still in the dark about his skills, and Alec was still unsure how he could ever tell them about it. But this year, this Christmas had been different. The last three Christmases had been... alright. Alec's father had lost his job 4 years ago, shortly after that one perfect Christmas. He tried to find work immediately afterwards, asking around and burying himself in the wanted ads. But at the time there was a very select few people looking for an appliance repairman. DVD was becoming the new trend, and with the internet booming suddenly people could just Yahoo how to fix their appliances and electronics themselves. Alec's mother had to find work to keep the family afloat, and she found a job as a secretary for a local law firm. The family survived, but just barely. Christmases became very thin in terms of gifts and fancy food. The tree shrunk until it became a small plastic cone bought from the department store. The fireplace was black and dark from disuse, and only a few good scents could be smelled in the kitchen.
Alec's dad had become complacent in the last few years. His will to pursue new work had all but died, as he felt he could no longer train in any new kind of work. He gave up, and gave in to his drinking habits. It was slow at first, a few cans of beer throughout the day. But it steadily grew, until the man was drinking through 12 cans a day. He became bitter, distant, but thankfully not violent. But Alec did remember that one Christmas, because something happened then that hadn't happened for years. His mom had given birth to his baby sister earlier that year. She had sat on the couch most of the day, nursing and holding her precious little girl to her. Alec had fallen in love with his sister that day, she was adorable and felt so light in his hands. And Alec remembered that one Christmas, that one moment when his father looked over at his wife, son and daughter sitting on the couch together in front of the TV. Alec remembered the beer in his hand, the booze on his breath, the stubble on his chin. But he also remembered the look in his eye. It was a small glint, a glimmer of hope that maybe, maybe things would get better.
Another two years later. Alec was 14, and had a decent handle on his magics that he felt confident going anywhere and not losing control. His father had taken a turn for the worst. The doctors had missed something when Alec's sister was born. When she was brought in to be checked up on her first birthday, they noticed something odd. She didn't respond as quickly as other babies did, and after a few tests, they determined that she had autism. That had broken Alec's father. Whatever hope he had left had been shattered with that one diagnosis. He saw no way out for himself and his family now. There was no way they could afford the schooling, health care and other needs their daughter would require for the rest of her life. Alec's dad then began to drink far more heavily than he ever had. And shortly after that, the beatings began. First it was small, a few hard slaps to the face for his mother. Then it became even worse, when Alec's dad would outright punch the woman for the smallest of things. Alec could only watch as the beatings got worse over the next few years. He didn't know what to do, what he could do. So he just watched, watched as his mother took the beatings so that the man wouldn't harm her son, or God forbid her defenseless daughter.
That one Christmas though. That was the crucial one. Alec's sister was playing by the fake tree, speaking broken words and phrases as she played with her colored blocks. Alec was in the living room, working on a holiday themed puzzle they had managed to find at the salvation army. His mother was on the couch, watching TV and trying to forget about her worries. And then he walked in, a bottle of rum in his hand and smelling strongly of booze and cigarettes. The man stumbled through the front door, tracking snow and dirt from outside everywhere. He wandered into the living room, saw his wife, and proceeded to berate her over why dinner wasn't ready. She stood up and walked into the kitchen, forcing Alec's father to follow her, away from the children. They began to argue, then to shout at each other. Alec got up and stood just outside the entryway, peering around the corner and hoping this fight would dissolve quickly.
But it didn't. Alec's dad had gotten very mad very quickly, shouting nonsense and angered words about everything he could think of. He shoved his mother, forcing her to smack into the kitchen counter sharply. She fell, a cry of pain burst from her mouth as she slumped to the floor. Alec's dad then took his bottle of rum and broke it over the counter, holding the sharp glass in his hand. He started to walk towards his wife, his victim, his prisoner. And it was then that Alec had had enough. He charged into the kitchen, shouting for him to get back and away from his mother. The man refused to listen, and instead turned his anger at this new source of annoyance. He went to slash Alec's face with the bottle, but Alec held up his hands and, for the first time, used his magic in front of his parents.
The sleeve of his father's shirt caught fire, just a small singe near the cuff. It was small, and it did as Alec planned as his father freaked out and dropped the bottle to the ground. But then he started to try and swat the flames away, brushing it against the front of his shirt. That was the biggest mistake he'd ever made. His shirt had been soaked with spilled rum and alcohol, and went up like a roman candle the second that spark touched it. Suddenly Alec's father was completely engulfed, and started to run outside in an attempt to put out the flames. He stumbled near the front door, rolling around in an attempt to smother the flames. His mother was screaming, trying to call the fire department and process what was happening. Alec hadn't stuck around. He'd grabbed a backpack, stuffed some clothes in it and ran. He never looked back, for fear of having to face the consequences of what he'd done.
And now finally Alec was back in the present. He looked at the small stones standing upright in the snow. Their faces were covered with white, so Alec simply waved his hand once, and just like that the snow was blown aside to reveal the names of the people buried beneath those stones."Jenny Leaton. Born April 1970 - Died November 2008"
"Samantha Leaton. Born November 2001 - Died March 2010"Alec stood there, looking at his mother and sister, buried in the field that they had both enjoyed on the rare weekends they could escape from his father. Alec looked on, thinking back to the happy times he had had with them both. They were so few after that perfect Christmas. So scattered and rare during his father's reign of terror. Alec looked to the side of his mother's grave where an empty plot of land lay buried beneath the snow. That spot might have belonged to his father, might have belonged to a man that he once remembered to be kind and caring. But that opportunity had been squandered, and Alec's father now lay buried in an a government plot, an unmarked stone signifying that there was even anything special about his patch of dirt. A dead body, a broken man, a wasted life.
Alec unzipped his coat, no longer feeling the wind or the snow as his mind was so entrenched in his past. He fished into his inside pocket and took out two red roses, one with a white ribbon, the other pink. Alec zipped back up and walked up to the gravestones, laying each flower in their place. Samantha had loved the color pink, and Alec's mother had so loved the purity of white. How fitting, that she finally rest here in this vast plain, blanketed in the snow she had loved to watch fall every winter, with her precious, beautiful daughter beside her.
Alec knelt before the two graves, reaching out and touching his mother's name, then his sister's. He thought of their faces, their voices, their laugh, his mind swirling with memories. Alec sighed once, letting his hand drop to his side as he picked himself up from the snow. He stood tall, staring at the graves for one last moment before he said the words he had come here to say, the ones he'd said every year since his family had passed."Merry Christmas mom. Merry Christmas Sammy."
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Posted: Sat Dec 22, 2012 4:26 pm
"Best to Forget"
Danni Rinaldi  “We’re going where?” Certain she’d misheard, praying that she had, Danni set down her fork, stared at Henri, who had wisely moved all the glassware out of her reach before broaching the subject of holiday dinner. He’d been putting it off for as long as possible, but since the plans were for tomorrow night…He could only hope all the spaghetti she’d just managed to inhale had slowed her reflexes a bit so he could have a shot at making an escape. Putting on a brave face, he sipped calmly enough at his wine, took his time setting the glass down before he folded his hands on the table, met her incredulous gaze.
“I said that tomorrow night, we’re going to your parents’ home for a holiday dinner. Your siblings will be there, and your grandparents. We are expected to attend as well.” He saw a million expressions flit over her face, watched her pull back each one behind an icy mask of indifference. That was fine. He hadn’t expected her to be happy about it. From the little she had told him, he’d gathered that the holidays had done little to ever bring the Rinaldi family completely together. However, they had received an invitation directly from Sylvester. One did not simply turn down an invitation from a main branch member, particularly not when that member was also the father of your fiancée.
For several long minutes she was silent, going back to her pasta with a single-minded focus that he’d grown used to. Only when her plate was empty did she look up again, staring at a point over his left shoulder.
“All right. I understand. I’ll be ready.” While Henri was left blinking at her easy agreement, Danni pushed back from the table, clicking her tongue to summon the puppy who’d been dozing under the table. With a vague nod in her fiancé’s direction, she walked out of the dining room without a word, the pup trotting obediently right beside her. Rather than walk up to their bedroom, she bypassed that door and instead slipped into the library. She’d quickly grown rather attached to the room Henri had devoted to books and art.
Picking a book at random off one of the shelves, she curled up on one of the leather loveseats, the dog leaping up to rest his head on her leg, staring up at her with adoring eyes. It only took a few seconds for her to give into the gaze. Setting aside the book she never would’ve read anyway, Danni reached out, grabbed the pup and scratched his back while he propped his front paws on her shoulders, licked enthusiastically at her face. The affection brought a smile to her face, had her hands softening as they brushed over his soft fur.
“Mean old Bertram will have to watch over you tomorrow, Samson. I won’t have you anywhere near them.” For a moment she held the pup close, felt his wet nose nuzzle against her neck. Never. She would never, ever let him be tainted by that house. Shaking her head, she stared over at the embers quietly glowing in the fireplace, murmured a quick spell that had a fire springing to life. It wasn’t Henri’s fault, she told herself as she slid further down on the loveseat. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t possibly know what went on behind the secured walls of Rinaldi Manor.
But it hadn’t always been that way…No, not always. On a long sigh, Danni closed her eyes, comforted by the feeling of Samson’s head nuzzling against her. Because she was suddenly tired, so very tired, she let herself drift, and let herself be taken back to a time when there had been no fear, no secrets within the walls of Rinaldi Manor.
There had once been laughter in that house. There had once been innocence. She’d been young, so young, perhaps two years old. It was the first Christmas she could remember having. Her mother had brushed her hair herself that morning, smoothing down the soft, downy strands. Because it was Christmas, she wore a new dress, a pretty red dress with white tights and bright red shoes. She’d stared, fascinated, at the way the clasps of the shoes sparkled in the light.
There had been people in the house, so many people. Her grandparents, aunts and uncles, some of her cousins. She ran around them, sometimes being scooped up for a quick hug, other times having her head patted. She was, after all, the precious daughter of a man in line for the Head’s position. She was beloved. But it hadn’t been their compliments she’d been after, or the little trinkets and candy some of them had offered. She’d been after only one thing.
She remembered running, running, skirting around so many tall people, to reach her goal. Then she had spotted it, shining like a promise, so far above her. The diamond star. It topped the giant tree in the main ballroom, twinkling amidst the lights and pretty glass decorations. She remembered stopping at the base of the tree, reaching up, up, as though if she stood on her toes she could reach it if she tried. And she remembered, clear as day, the feeling of being scooped up by familiar hands, by hearing her father’s quiet laugh as he’d turned her around to smile at her.
“There you are, Izzy. What are you up to, princess?” His voice was an indulgent murmur, his eyes kind and gentle as he looked at her. She had, unquestionably, been adored by her father. Secure in that knowledge, she’d reached out, scrubbed her hands over his beard, patting her hands on his cheeks.
“Star. Pretty star, Papa.” She grinned at him, heard his easygoing chuckle. She’d known they were being watched. Even then, she had been fully aware that her father was special. And that, in turn, made them all special. She’d been too young, much to young, however, to realize that her father had always chosen to abandon propriety in favor of pleasing his youngest child. Because he had, he paused only a moment before smiling, reaching a hand up towards the top of the tree.
The diamond star, passed down through the generations, which he himself had put atop the tree with some ceremony only hours ago, flew off the tree and fell into his hand. Ignoring the murmurs around him, her father had held it out to her, let her run her finger over the sparkling surface.
“Someday, princess, this will be passed down to your brother. And then down to his son. And to his son after that. It is tradition, you see.” She’d blinked then, for she had been aware that the word ‘tradition’ was a strong one. After a moment, however, she’d laughed, grinning into his mild, patient eyes.
“Pretty, Papa!” She’d watched those eyes twinkle with appreciation, with humor. But she hadn’t known what that was yet. She’d only known that she’d made her father happy. She’d watched, amazed, as he used his magic to set the star back up on top of the tree. And, because he’d been an indulgent father, he’d set his daughter on his hip and taken her off to find some cake. He and his daughter shared a love of baked goods…
Two years later, and the house had still been filled with laughter, with joy. Two years later, and she had just celebrated her fourth birthday. She was no longer simply the precious daughter of a Rinaldi main branch. She was the delightfully innocent Izzy Rinaldi, and had wedged her way into the hearts of her family members. She’d been happy, wild, bright. She had been beloved. She had been her father’s child. She sat patiently on his lap now, as he tied ribbons in her hair. She’d never liked ribbons until her father had started putting them in her hair rather than the nanny. Her hair had darkened to a deep, red-tinted brunette, her eyes fading from baby blue into a soft, clear gray.
There was a pile of presents under the tree in the family room. Some of them had her name on them. She hoped one of them was a puppy. She’d been begging her father for a puppy. So far, though, Mother had firmly denied that request. A puppy, Mother insisted, would do nothing but pee on the carpet, chew her shoes, and shed everywhere. She would have none of that. Izzy was sure though, that if she promised to make sure the puppy only peed outside, if she promised to keep him away from shoes and clean up the hair, she was sure that Mama would agree.
On her lap at the moment was a stuffed dog her father had given her as an early Christmas present. A compromise, he’d called it. She didn’t know what that was, but it certainly wasn’t a real puppy. Still, the stuffed dog was soft, with big, sad looking eyes. She’d named it Huxley and slept with it each night. After all, it was a gift from her papa. Of course she would grow to love it, just as he’d promised she would. She blinked when she felt his hand pat her shoulder, a sign that he was done with her hair. Looking over her shoulder, she grinned at him, reached out to rub a hand over his bear.
“Gracias, Papa. Te amo.” She was pleased that it was Spanish day rather than German. She was still having a bit of trouble getting the pronunciation correctly. She was pleased, too, that tomorrow was Russian day. That was too easy. Surely Papa would be proud when he saw how she’d mastered the grammar. As it was, he was smiling at her now, laying his hand over hers on his face.
“Te amo, princesa. ¿Tienes hambre?” At his question, Izzy’s stomach rumbled almost on cue, had her father laughing as he scooped her up, tossed her lightly in the air before settling her on his hip.
“If we are very quiet, perhaps mother won’t know we’re sneaking into the kitchen between meal times.” He murmured the words in Spanish in a mock whisper, had Izzy stifling a giggle. Her papa could be so silly sometimes. Absolutely in love with him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, dropped her head lovingly onto his shoulder. Whether they got caught or not, she didn’t care. Her Papa would make sure everything worked out anyway.
Opening her eyes, Danni stared at the roaring fire, wondering why it was that she still felt so cold. It was foolish for her to have remembered such things. The past was long gone. Such useless memories…it was best to just forget them. But there were others…Certain things that could never be forgotten, that never should be. Those cursed holidays since she came into her magic. Those endless days in the dark. So confused at first, so hurt, so lonely. She hadn’t known what she’d done wrong. She simply hadn’t been able to understand.
Her little fists were bruised, bloody from pounding on the thick wooden door for hours. She’d been locked in the basement for days, weeks. She wanted Papa. Papa would make it ok. There was magic around this room, she knew. She recognized her mother’s silencing spells. She’d often used them around the nursery so she wasn’t disturbed by the noise her children made. But now the spell kept anyone from hearing her pleas, her sobs, her pounding.
She didn’t like the basement. It was dark down here. There were bars on the windows. She was lonely. So lonely. Her father couldn’t hear her cries. Why did he not come rescue her? Whatever she’d done wrong, she would atone for it! She knew, because she’d heard voices through the vents, that it must be Christmas. There was family over, so it must be Christmas. She had been in this place for twenty-three days. There were still bruises on her throat.
Pausing her pounding on the door, Izzy laid a hand against her tender throat, remembered the feeling of her mother’s hands wrapping around it, squeezing tight, so tight as she screamed at her. What had she done? She had come into her magic. She could feel it, coursing through her veins, beating beneath her flesh like a pulse all its own. She was not defective. So why was she being punished this way? Why had her mother tried to kill her?
She could remember, could see her father’s face, so shocked, so terrified. She’d never seen her father scared. But he had been, in that moment when her mother’s hands had wrapped around her throat. She remembered, could just remember seeing him leap towards her, could remember his hands closing over her mothers. But they did not squeeze. Rather, they tore her mother’s hands away from her throat. In that moment before she had lost consciousness, she’d known that her father had protected her. So where was he now?
Shivering, she turned away from the door, stared down the steps at the place that had become her prison. A single room, once probably servants’ quarters. There was a bed shoved in the corner, a tangle of sheets and blankets in the middle of it. She had not slept peacefully since she’d woken in this dark basement. There was a desk, a chest of spare linens at the foot of the bed. There was a small bathroom attached to the room, a small table and a single chair pushed against the wall. On two sides of the room, small barred windows lined the top of the walls, letting in a bit of light. She rarely bothered to flick on the single bare bulb in the middle of the room. Her world of light and freedom had become a world of inescapable shadows. She would atone, she thought. Whatever she had done wrong, she would atone for it. Surely they would let her come back once she did. Surely they would…
She was a monster. She understood that now. She was seven years old now. Five long years had taught her how disgusting her very existence was. After three months in solitary confinement, her mother had appeared in her dark basement prison and explained in cold, precise terms exactly what she was. Unforgivable. Unlovable. Unnecessary. Those three words, over and over again, had come from her mother’s mouth as she’d taken a belt to the young girl’s back and rear. She must be punished, her mother had explained, for daring to exist. It was only due to her father’s generosity that she was allowed to live. She should be grateful.
After that first beating, she’d understood. Black magic ran through her veins along with the pure white magic of the family. She had stained magic. She was stained. She had brought disgrace down upon the family simply by existing. She hadn’t meant to. She’d begged and pleaded with her mother to understand how much she hadn’t meant to. She had tried to be pure. She had done her best to be of use to the family. She had tried to do her duty. But her blood was impure. She was not a pure white angel like the revered females of the Rinaldi family. She was…not black, but grey. She was grey. Nothing but a shadow. A stain. Something best left hidden away, lest it sully the purity of the family.
But it appeared this stain had not been completely forgotten. Not this Christmas. The coloring book had slid down the vents early that morning, long before the sun had risen, long before anyone should have been awake in Rinaldi Manor. At first she’d feared it to be some sort of trap, some sort of tease. But from atop the vents, she’d felt the presence of magic warmer than Mother’s could ever hope to be. It was soft and warm and gentle and innocent. Ambrose. Ambrose had not forgotten her. She’d wanted to call out, to say some word of thanks, to say…anything. But he would not have been able to hear her. But she thought the words, thought as hard as she could. And prayed he could hear. Even after five years in the dark, she still prayed.
Rather than bothering with the light switch, Izzy had sat in the middle of the floor, orbs of lights she conjured dancing in the air around her as she stared at the pictures in the coloring book. It was Christmas themed, the cover bright with more colors than she was accustomed to seeing. Slowly, reverently, she opened it up, traced a finger down the thick black outlines of the pictures. For a moment, she wished she had some crayons, wished she could fill the empty space with color and life. But she didn’t want to be greedy. She’d already been given such a precious gift.
On her seventh Christmas, Isadora Rinaldi sat on the cold, hard floor of her basement bedroom, tracing her finger over the lines of a children’s coloring book. Above her, as family trickled into the house, she couldn’t hear the laughter, the music, the voices. She heard nothing but the sound of her finger brushing over paper, nothing but the slight pulse of her magic in the light orbs. On her seventh Christmas, Izzy Rinaldi still said her prayers, and still believed in the purity of white magic.
“Call me Danni.” On her tenth Christmas, Isadora Rinaldi quietly faded into nonexistence. In her place rose Danni Rinaldi. It had been two years since she’d thought to pray, one year since the black magic in her blood had started to completely overtake the white. She was growing stronger. Every day, she was stronger. In the past years, she’d been allowed out of the basement now and again. Important family events, where she was expected to stand in the back and stay silent. Reunions where she was expected to do the same. It had been a mistake to give her a taste of the outside world, to remind her what freedom tasted like. The light of day had unlocked a spirit of rebellion within the girl who’d lived, broken, within the dank basement of Rinaldi Manor.
The intruder in her dungeon was a familiar face. He had appeared before her three months ago, in the shadows of the forest she’d run to. Once she had learned the art of teleportation, escape had been easy. Far too easy. Of course, such arrogance eventually led to discovery. Three weeks ago her mother had discovered her missing. When she’d returned…Well, she was sure the scars would heal eventually. Hadn’t she lain in bed for a week resting? Her healing skills were sub-par at best. A body holding dark magic had no desire to be healed by white magic tactics, regardless of who wielded the power. He’d visited her then, as well, sitting by her bedside while she healed, making small talk. When he spoke, he spoke of battle, of demons, telling tales of war and glory and power. His red eyes always gleamed bright when he spoke of war.
He said his name was Arzol. He was a demon, a soldier. He said he had sensed her power, had come looking to see who wielded such magic. Rather than a warrior, he had found a little girl. And it was the little girl he sat with on Christmas morning, his thick black cloak hanging on her bed post while he hunched over her desk in a game of chess. At her words, he had glanced up, raising a brow.
“Call you what?” He watched her brush her hair back away from her eyes. It was growing longer now, far past her shoulders at this point. She’d given up on keeping it shoulder-length. It seemed better this way. Freer. A bit wild.
“Danni. It is my middle name, and the one I would prefer to be called by my…friend. We are friends, aren’t we Arzol?” He smirked a bit at her formal tone. The governess that saw to her education in this dark place saw to that. He’d taken his time answering, long enough that she’d started to feel a bit distressed. Perhaps she’d been mistaken. Perhaps they weren’t friends after all.
“Oh, wipe the worry from your eyes, young one. More than friends, I would say we are family. Do you not think of me as an older brother? For I think of you as a sister. A dear one. If Danni is the name you like, then it is Danni you shall be called.” He’d watched, vaguely amused, as the smile spread slowly on her face. Something she didn’t quite recognize as happiness spread through her then, even as she glanced up towards the ceiling. Family…She hadn’t been certain she deserved one.
He appeared before her on her eleventh Christmas. In her mind, it appeared God had sent her a present. A pity He’d sent it to her long after she’d stopped believing He was just. That He existed she remained certain. That he cared was another matter. This present came to her in the form of an angel representative. Or at least that’s what he called himself. Whatever his title, his name was Luce. Whereas her Arzol was all black hair and red eyes, Luce had white hair, like snow or clouds. His eyes were blue, like the sky. He wore no cloak, no weapon as Arzol did. Instead, he wore white. A white long-sleeved tunic, white trousers, white shoes. The only thing black about him was the elaborate rose tattoo on the side of his neck. It had reminded her, painfully, of the rose on her own back.
Unlike Arzol, Luce didn’t know what went on inside these walls. He had known only her name, and that she possessed magic. He had known only that God had wanted to recruit her. That had been his job. To recruit her onto the side of white magic. When he laughed, when he ruffled her hair, when he listened to her fairy tales that she secretly hoarded, for a moment during those times she wished she could give him what he wanted from her. The white magic was still there, deep inside, neglected. She could never expel it, would never want to. It was a reminder, after all, that she was stained. It was a reminder, as well, that she was Rinaldi.
As for Luce…Though he was an indefinite number of years older than her, she enjoyed thinking of him as the innocent one. The shielded one. The pure one. He believed her when she said she was clumsy, that she’d tripped, that the bruises were from accidents. If she smiled, he thought she was happy. He need not know, she’d decided, about the wretched, shameful truth. No one need know. Except for Arzol. She could tell Arzol anything. But to Luce she spoke only of her dreams, of her every fantasy. She spoke of foolish things, meaningless things.
On this Christmas afternoon, he convinced her to use her white magic. She could still summon the orbs of light. Such magic was not lost to her. They danced about the room, happy as frolicking children as they chased away the shadows. She didn’t mention, could not mention, that she’d come to prefer the shadows over the light. Luce, too, was like an older brother. She had been given family. Not a replacement family. No, she still harbored a deep, unexplainable love for her true family, for the ones who lived above her.
“Come now, Izzy, a bit more. Show me what else you’ve got.” She looked over at Luce’s friendly eyes, his impish grin. The old nickname he insisted on using for her stung only a bit now. She’d grown rather used to hearing it come from his lips. He sat on top of her desk, his long legs folded up under him. He was kind. How could he be anything but, as a representative from the Heavens? Not quite human, not quite angel. He was somewhere in between, so gloriously alive but never aging. He didn’t know that Arzol was visiting tonight. After telling Arzol about Luce, her demon had suggested not mentioning it. She had heard wisdom in his words. She didn’t want to upset Luce. Not him. Because they were friends, Danni sent him a mock scowl, but lifted her hands, closed her eyes. Her magic was strong enough now that she need not utter the spells that came to her as if they’d only been locked in her mind, waiting to be released. It had been fascinating to sort through them, to discover the legacy that was her magic.
She used that magic now, drew it out of her. Pushing back the black, calling forth the white. It was not as simply as it once was, so strong had grown her darker magic. But she would consider this a Christmas gift to Luce. It pleased her, who had nothing, to be able to give him something he wanted. With a slight laugh, she released her magic, sent it out through the room. Suddenly the room was bright, so bright, color painting the walls. The bare room became covered in decoration. A tree, fully decorated, stood in the corner, a dog sleeping beneath it. Holiday music played, and laughter from unknown sources echoed through the air. In the midst of it, Danni sat, looking around at her work. With a wave of her hand, snow began to come down from the ceiling, only to disappear as it hit the ground. Illusionary magic. It was often tempting, so tempting, to live within it forever. But that would be the coward’s way. Reality was what she had to live in. After a moment, Danni called back her magic, sent away the illusion. Once more, she and Luce were alone in a bare, dark room, looking at each other. For a long moment, he merely looked at her, studying. It seemed he was always studying her, searching for something she couldn’t name.
After a long beat of silence, Luce smiled slowly, pulled something out of his pocket. “Well done, Izzy. I have to leave now, but I want you to hold onto this for me until I come back.” Her disappointment that he was leaving so soon was lessened a bit when he stood, walked over holding a heart-shaped pendant. It was crimson in color, so different from the white he wore. But as he slipped it over her head, settled it around her neck, she felt it cool against her chest. Sometimes, if he was going to be gone for quite some time, he left her things like this to hold onto. She would protect it. She always enjoyed having something to protect.
Her twelfth Christmas would be the end of her childhood. Her mother had broken into the alcohol early that year, it seemed, and had come down angry. It never occurred to Danni to try and escape. After all, she deserved it. The beating had been vicious, angry, wild. Her mother certainly had a temper. Danni could only be sorry that her existence angered her so. She’d offered no resistance as her mother had punched, whipped, beaten. Years of similar treatment had taught her to be silent and limp. To cry out only encouraged her mother. To resist was to invite punishment.
On that cool Christmas morning, Luce had arrived to find her curled up in a shadowy corner of the room, trembling, weeping while blood ran down her back, staining the ground. He’d stopped in his tracks, shocked, speechless, confused. There were no excuses to offer that time, no claims of being clumsy. Not when the belt her mother had used to beat her laid bloody in the middle of the room. Around her neck, she wore the heart-shaped pendant Luce had left with her at the end of his last visit. A drop of blood from her lip fell on it, staining it a deeper shade of crimson. He had taken a step towards her, to soothe, to question, she would never know. Because even as he said her name, another presence entered the room.
She looked up, past Luce, saw Arzol standing on the edge of the shadows. He studied her for a long moment, silent, before he held out his hand. “Danni. Come.” She hadn’t questioned, hadn’t stopped to second guess herself. This was the right choice. This had always been the only way. Foolish to believe, even for a second, that she could be allowed to live the pure life of a white magic user. Her hands were stained with her own blood. There was nothing pure about her. She was unforgivable. Unlovable. Unnecessary. Her only solace was in the shadows. Getting shakily to her feet, she ran past Luce and into Arzol’s waiting arms. And here was safety. Here was power. She wanted that. She wanted power. He could give her that. She was foolish to have stayed here, powerless, for so long.
She didn’t meet Luce’s gaze as Arzol took off his cloak, wrapped it around her. It would be stained with her blood, she thought. Arzol and Luce were exchanging words, ones she didn’t hear. There was a ringing in her head. She couldn’t miss the pain that flashed over Luce’s face, the understanding. She’d hurt him. She hadn’t meant to. But then, she was a monster. She murmured an apology as Arzol opened up a portal, as he wrapped an arm around her, supporting her weight.
On her twelfth Christmas, while her family celebrated the season above her head, Danni Rinaldi stood between power and purity. Bloody, tired, and just a little bit desperate, she leaned against the demon soldier known as Arzol. On her twelfth Christmas, Danni Rinaldi chose power.
With Samson now snoring quietly on her lap, Danni brushed away the tear that managed to get past her guard, paused as the final tear slipped down her cheek, landed on the heart shaped pendant she wore. She never had given it back. It served a purpose now anyway. Nor had she returned the cloak that had been wrapped around her all those years ago. She supposed she would consider them presents, from her two ‘brothers’.
Letting out a long breath, she stared into the fire once more, remembering things best left forgotten. She would go to dinner tomorrow, because it was expected. It would be an interesting change, she thought. It had been years since she’d been allowed to sit at the dinner table.
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Posted: Sat Dec 22, 2012 5:40 pm
"Ten Minutes"
[Petra] “Go back to your room, Baby Bat,” Lynn insisted, shooing Petra away. The girl had a stubborn look on her face, however. Whatever was wrong she refused to be left out of knowing. Especially considering the day. If something was wrong today, Petra wanted to be in the know.
“Mom, it’s Christmas and I’m not a child anymore,” she said in her best thirteen-year-old voice. Her mother sighed, staring down at the girl. Petra was still the sweet, kind person she’d raised, but the teen years had begun and she was going to have more of a voice now. Lynn was proud of that, finally seeing that her little girl had gotten tired of the bullying. She had even convinced her father to send her off to a new school, having had enough of being tutored at home. Having gotten sick and tired of being friendless and alone. Lynn could not have been more proud of these facts, yet this was not the moment to let Petra have her say.
“I know sweetheart, but we’ve got plenty of dark hours left yet. Just give me a minute with your father and then we can celebrate. As a family. Like it should be.” Petra’s lips thinned into a tight frown. She wasn’t having this. She knew what came next. Her father would leave angrily to his room and not come out for hours while Petra and her mother stayed outside. Her mother wouldn’t talk about what had happened, though Petra would have heard many screamed profanities and colorful language through the cracks of the door and the not-too-thin walls. Lynn would hide behind a smile, but Petra would know the entire time that her mother was faking it. Petra would realize that her mother couldn’t bear to be seen crying. The young girl shook her head, insistent.
“He’s going to be terrible again. I don’t want him here at all,” she said. Her hands were balled into fists and her teeth clenched tight. Petra was furious, but the pain in her center was undeniable as well. It brought tears that she was powerless to hold back. In her throat, a dry sob built. She hated him. Petra was only just starting to come to terms with this hate, but she knew things would not be the same. The man who’d raised her, who had cradled her small body in her arms was no longer with them. This person in the house right now, storming around and screaming at servants downstairs, this was not Petra’s father. Nor was he the man Lynn had fallen in love with years ago.
This doppelganger was cruel, mean, and spiteful. He was full of such anger towards people who didn’t deserve his hate and such a coward in the face of people he ought to. If only he really were a doppelganger, then they could easily be rid of this awful man. Petra leaned against the banister of the top stair, hiding her face from her mother. Lynn was quick to react, bending down and petting her daughter’s hair.
“Darling girl, please don’t cry. I know things haven’t been happy of late but you’re right… It’s Christmas day. Even your father knows that,” Lynn cooed into Petra’s ear. “Now I’m going to go downstairs and speak with him for a moment. Then everything will be fine. Okay?”
Petra turned her head to see her mother’s smile. In past years, the radiance of it would have had some power over her. She would have believed any sweet lie and trusted any promise. No longer did her smiles have power. Her face was worn, not by time, but by circumstance. Her eyes did not glow quite the same way. Seeing Lynn like this was painful for the young girl. She gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek and rubbed her eyes dry.
“Ten minutes,” Petra said. That was how long she would give them to work things out. She realized they wouldn’t and ten minutes was certainly never going to be enough. But that was what she would grant her mother to try and restore their hope.
“Ten minutes,” Lynn agreed. The woman hugged her Baby Bat tight, but was brief. She hurried down the stairs and disappeared behind a door. Petra heard the start of their encounter. It always started quietly. The vampire girl hurried into her room, not wishing to be so close to them when it was brought into a crescendo.
It wasn’t too long before she could hear the muffled shouting. Some words even slid through with clarity, but Petra wished each time they did that she hadn’t been able to hear them. Her hands were cupped tight over her ears, her eyes shut tight. As if she could make it disappear with her senses. As if she could disappear with them as well. This tirade of her father’s was much like the usual. Vampires were the stronger, better race. Others were weaker, for them to either use or simply deserving of elimination. It was so similar to his previous speeches, but it was so much angrier than usual, and a good lot less eloquent.
He wasn’t speaking quite right. Words slurred together. His voice was just the slightest bit different. She heard the word before she’d made the connection. Drunk. Carter had indulged in drinks before around her, but only at parties. They were happy events where he only got to the point of being buzzed for the looseness it gave him. Petra had watched her father somewhat drunkenly pull her mother into a crazy dance that made everyone, including Lynn, burst into laughter. This was much, much different than the Carter Petra knew. He was also much, much drunker.
The fight escalated once more, then quickly fell to silence. The quiet felt so long, though it was only a few seconds before Carter started up again. He seemed to be pleading. This wasn’t normal. Petra stood up from the floor, running to the door to try and hear more clearly. This time was different than the other times in which her parents had fought.
Lynn was already storming away, shouting behind her at Carter as he followed, begging pathetically for her forgiveness. Petra could hear the words better now as they came into the foyer. She was pressed against the door, in hopes she could figure out what had happened in there to cause the silence. It seemed her mother was on her way up the stairs now. Finally, the words came through.
“Leave me alone, Carter!” Lynn screamed. “You are never to lay a hand on me again.” Her wrists hurt from where he'd grabbed her. Her back was sore from being pushed against the wall with such force. Her cheek stung where his hand had made contact with her face.
Her father was sobbing behind the door as he begged for her to listen, to stay, to forgive. His wife would have none of it. Petra scurried back to her bed as she realized her mother was coming to collect her. There were a couple of quick knocks at her door before it swung open.
“Petra, grab some things to do. We’re going to go somewhere for tonight, alright sweetheart?” The vampire girl nodded slowly, moving towards her backpack.
“Please, Lynn, just stay. Petra needs to open her presents, right Petra? Don’t you want to open your presents? She hasn’t even fed today. Just let her have some blood and presents, please Lynn,” Carter pleaded. The cold look she shot him made him stop. Instead he solemnly accepted her decision and slunk away back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Petra had all of her things together and was dressed to go out by the time he was back. In one hand he held a thermos, inside which sloshed the warm red liquid that would sustain one of their kind. In the other was one of the smaller gifts for her that had been under the tree. He pushed past Lynn to speak to his daughter.
“Baby Bat, here just… take these okay? Merry Christmas,” Carter said. His breath was foul. He moved in to kiss her forehead, but she recoiled. Petra did not want him to touch her. Not when he’d hurt her mother. The very sight of this pathetic man both frightened and disgusted her.
Petra took the things from his hands and handed the still wrapped gift to her mother, clinging still to the full thermos. She glanced back at him once, wondering if there remained anything in him that, in that moment, looked anything like her father. Her violet eyes moved from the man standing in front of her to the clock. It had been just over the allotted ten minutes.
Lynn and Petra loaded themselves into the car, Petra sipping at the thick blood as they pulled away from the house. They would stay on the road for the rest of the night, stopping once at an empty lookout area so they could stretch their legs and walk around a little bit. While Lynn wandered, Petra finished her thermos and threw it into the backseat before crawling there herself. She opened the little gift box to find a framed picture, a printed copy of the painting they had hanging in their house. It was of the three of them from years back. These paintings were the only way a vampire family could have a family portrait. They all looked younger, happier, and though the painting was still, much more full of life than they seemed now. Petra stared at the faces of the people in the painting, who were similar to the people who now occupied the same home but not quite the same.
“It was your father’s idea,” Lynn said, startling Petra. Her mother returned to the car, seeing that she had opened the present. “So you’d have one of your own to look at when you leave for Mystic Fountain next year. I suggested having a new one painted but he insisted we hadn’t the time for such a thing.” Petra studied her mother’s face as she crawled into the backseat of the car with the younger vampire. Turning her head back, she tried to look at it through her mother’s eyes. Imagining the differences in what each of them saw. Pretending like she could change the way things looked now by reflecting on the way they looked before.
“It’s perfect, mom,” Petra whispered. “Thank you.” The two of them embraced each other. Both knowing she would have to return and thank Carter as well. Both refusing to say so out loud. They remained, holding each other for their own small eternity. In reality, they only stayed like that for ten minutes before leaving to drive around a bit more. They would return to the house an hour before dawn, have a bit more to drink, then make their ways to their respective beds and sleep. Then the next day, they’d try to have a better Christmas.
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Posted: Sat Dec 22, 2012 6:21 pm
"The First Christmas with Daisuke"
[Toshi] In a house very empty
A house very small
Sat a poor little kitten
Not happy at all
His mom didn’t want him
His father unhappy
Two brothers were heartless
Now his Christmas felt crappy
But big brother Daisuke
He had quite the spirit
If his brother was sad
He refused to hear it
For Christmas he knew
Was a time for great cheer
Toshi ought not to cry
For it came once each year
Dai brought out the stockings
He brought out the bows
He even found places
To hang mistletoes
“Now cheer up little bro”
Said Dai with a smile
“For we will celebrate
And do so with style!”
The cheap Christmas lights
Nearly blew a socket
But when they went up
Their hearts soared like a rocket
And under the tree
Wrapped special for one
Was a great big present
That promised much fun
Toshi leaped with delight
And tore open the box
The contents pleased him
And he shouted “THIS ROCKS!”
The brothers embraced
For a holiday hug
And both were quite happy
And both felt quite snug
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Posted: Sat Dec 22, 2012 6:30 pm
"To Whom It May Concern"
Cajus Dag Fritz Today was a very exciting day in the Sabel household. It'd been many months since Cajus had been in the house with them, as he had been away to America building up his strength both physically and mentally. All these things were needed for him to go out and begin his journey to find his parents. Much to Cajus's knowledge, he did not know anything about the location of his family. The Sabels did, however, know that secret.
Anytime Cajus had been gone away from their home for more than a week, Mr. and Mrs. Sabel had went out on their own with little Lucy in tow the last year or so to look for the Fritz family. They searched high and low through the wilds of Germany, until they came across more and more creatures just like Cajus. There weren't very many, only a few families existing, and before long Christian and Olivia Sabel were in the presence of the Fritz clan in all their glory.
After much convincing that what they were offering wasn't indeed a trap, which took them showing off several family photos with Cajus happy as could be in them. Katharina Fritz, the mother, was the first to break. She demanded to see her son in the flesh, and not even the insisting of her husband Otto could deter her from getting what she wanted. Together, very carefully, the Sabels smuggled all five members of the Fritz clan out of Germany and over to Copenhagen where they had been staying in their house for days now. It'd been a rambunctious time, what with the twin boys Luka and Fynn messing around with horse playing all the time and getting into fights over nothing, and little Tanja crying because she missed home. It was all going to be worth it though, when Katharina and Otto could hold their little boy once more, and introduce him to his new siblings.
Unfortunately, it meant they'd also have to tell him about the death of Julia, his younger sister of three years. She'd been killed that day when he was taken from them, the dogs having reached her too soon and ripping her body apart. Life had been hard for the Fritz parents for the first four years without their children, until little Luka and Fynn came along. They had to be strong for the two kids, and not act like anything was bothering them. The children still did not know why they were there, or that they had an older brother or sister.
Quietly the two families intermingled in the living room, Olivia Sabel anxiously preparing a large vegetarian meal for all the satyrs in the house and the one soon to join them. She had prepared all of Cajus's favorite, remembering he was a very big fan of her potato soup. The aroma filled the entire house, and caused the children to become antsy. Little Tanja sat on her mother's lap, eating some cookies offered to her by Mrs. Sabel.
"Thank you so much again for everything you've done. My husband and I....there are no words to express how grateful we are." Katharina was on the verge of tears, just like anytime when she even made a slight reference to Cajus. She'd been strong for six years now, and she was about to crack now from the sadness in her heart.
Mr. Sabel smiled weakly in response to her, nodding his head. He wasn't much of a talker, that was his wife's job. Christian was just there to make sure she didn't feel any backlash when she'd spoken too much. Otto was rubbing his large hand over her back, doing his best to comfort her. Even after all this time, he still didn't have any magical way of making her troubles go away.
After the afternoon lunch had been served, they all waited together still where they were, eating lunch outside of the dining room for the first time since they'd lived here. They didn't want to miss someone coming to the door while they were away to eat.
"The letter from the school said their break would be ending Friday, and I bought him a plane ticket for Saturday morning. He should be here any moment now." Olivia was periodically looking at the clock at almost consistent intervals of ten seconds. Clocks were meaningless to the satyrs, so the parents stared out the window while Luka and Fynn practiced butting heads in the middle of the floor and Tanja climbed on her anxious father.
Suddenly, a black car pulled up at the end of their drive way, and both mothers were up off their seats. Spoons clattered to the table and floor as they darted to the door. Attention was taken off of lunch, and all eyes were on the door.
Soon they heard the knock on the door, and Olivia abruptly opened it to find that who it was was not who she was hoping it would be with all her heart. Two men in black suits stood at her door, both straight faced and tight lipped. Olivia's stomach flipped, but Katharina was only left to stand slightly out of view in confusion.
"Good afternoon ma'am. Is this the Sabel residence?" There was no kindness in their voices, they only wanted to get their job done. Despite how horrible of a job it was.
"Y-yes it is, is there something I could do to help you two?" Christian moved to stand behind his wife, not liking this situation in the slightest. Lucy followed suit, but Christian held her back away from the doorway, causing her to huff in annoyance. Otto was occupied holding the kids out of view.
"This...isn't something we like to do without sending a letter first, but we weren't able to find a home address. We took the flight Mr. Fritz was to be taking today and found a directory to look up the name written on some letters of his. Since we were already here, we figured we should go ahead and meet you in person." Olivia furrowed her brow, looking the men up and down. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now.
"I don't know who you people are, nor do I really care. What have you done with Cajus, why is he not here?" Her voice elevated until it was almost a screech, and Christian gripped his wife's arm to keep her from lashing out at the men.
"Ma'am, we're representatives of the school Mystic Fountain High School. Mr. Fritz did come with us here, in fact he's-" The man was cut off by a livid Katharina Fritz, forcing her way into the door way and pointing a finger at the man's face. She was a good half a foot shorter than them both, but that didn't stop her from causing the men to take a few steps back.
"Stop flapping your lips then and bring us our son this instant!" Olivia was almost shocked at her outburst, but after the shock passed all she could feel was admiration for the fellow mother.
The men were silent, one turning back around to the black car. What was the big issue with letting Cajus just come inside and see his family? The family stood at the door, watching what the man was doing. At the car, he appeared to be lifting something heavy and it caused him to strain himself. When he turned around, it appeared to be a sleeping Cajus. As he walked towards them, Olivia and Katharina's hearts both began to sink as they took into notice that Cajus's body lacked any movement. He was completely lifeless.
Breaking away from the man in front of them, Katharina darted out to the man carrying her son. She jerked him away from the man, seething as she did so and tears pouring down her face. "Don't you touch him, don't you dare touch him! Cajus, Cajus my baby. My precious sweet boy." She clutched her oldest son to her chest, rocking him back and forth as she squalled.
Olivia ran out as well, but was caught this time by the man in front of her. "Mystic Fountain was attacked a day or so ago, and Mr. Fritz here fought valiantly to protect so many lives. It was a young girl he had fancied that he'd sacrificed himself to save. We just wanted you to know how much of a hero your boy was, and that-"
"He was just a kid! Kids should not be fighting in wars!" Olivia screamed in his face, and broke away from him to run to the screaming Katharina. Christian followed shortly, as well as Otto and the other children. Lucy was now crying as well, but the satyrs children were completely unaware. All three of them began to cry, out of the sheer fact that both of their parents were crying now.
Both Katharina and Otto clung to the boy, holding him close and wishing him to life. Wishing and praying to Pan that this was all a bad dream, just a bad dream they were going to wake up from. Olivia kneeled near to him and clutched the satyr boy's hand, her husband rocking her back and forth as his eyes grew puffy. Lucy latched onto her mother, face entirely leaking as she cried out.
The two men looked on in sadness, but still their expression did not chance. This was merely a job to them, and nothing more. Death was nothing new at Mystic Fountain, and it was never going to be a thing of the past. Getting into their car without further words to the mourning families, they identified themselves with the name of the next student they were delivering. They took each delivery one at a time, as it was for the best in the end.
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Posted: Sat Dec 22, 2012 8:34 pm
"Like Father Like Son"
Asmodeous Luxuria On any other day, you would not find an Asmodeous Luxuria outside in the freezing cold. On a day unlike this one Asmodeous would not willingly travel up to the surface for holiday purposes. Today, however, was different. Today was Christmas, and the day a certain someone was supposed to be singing in the boys' choir during the Christmas day mass service.
Asmodeous detested any and all things related to Christmas, as many well knew, and he especially did not like anything in relation to the church. He was willing, though, to put aside his dislike to watch a certain someone perform his solo today. Standing outside of the church, knowing that a priest with any credibility would not allow him to enter, he waited for the young boy to arrive.
Once he had arrived, Giovanni that is, Asmodeous did his best to appear disinterested in the boy for fear that his mother would take notice of him. He was fairly certain Calandra would not be very happy to see him after all these years where he had not been present. Of course, Asmodeous was never there for any of his children, especially the ones that were part human. It just hit him the other day though that he should go and see just what sort of person his son was. At least, the son he knew about.
Unfortunately though, the child was barred entry. Usually one of the lower ranked priests were the ones to greet those at the door, but today the high priest himself was shaking hands with those who passed inside. Must be a Christmas time thing. When Giovanni reached to shake the priest's hand, he jerked his hand back and forbade the boy from entering on the grounds that he was "touched" by the devil.
Calandra, being the devout she was, was not about to miss Christmas mass service and left her son outside for the time. She knelt down in front of her young son, kissing him on the forehead. "You be a good boy and stay here near the church. I'll be right out as soon as the service is over, so don't go wandering off okay?" The little boy nodded and she was away into the church, the priest eyes him in disgust as he closed the door behind them.
Asmodeous watched from his corner as Giovanni sat on the step and started playing with a stick, drawing little imaginary pictures to pass the time. The Prince was highly disappointed to say the least, and extremely angered at the priest who'd kept his son from going inside. The reason he came at all was to hear his son in the choir, and now that was all shot to hell.
Creeping forward in a moment of weakness, he walked toward the boy and crouched down next to him. His expression was kind and gentle, a very unusual way for his face to look in the presence of mortals.
"Wouldn't let you in either, huh?" The young boy looked up startled at him, but still shook his head regardless. Asmodeous positioned himself to sit next to Giovanni with his knee propped up to rest his arm on.
"No...the stupid priest never liked me anyway. He always looks at me like I'm a horrible person. Does he not like you either?" His eyes looked up hopefully to find someone else who shared his pain in not being accepted, and Asmodeous merely nodded. He was pretty sure the priest would hate him if he knew him, but for all intents and purposes he just wanted to try and cheer him up.
"Yeah, I got it like you do kid. Of course I don't let it bother me, the priest is just a mean old man, let him do what he likes," he replied with a jovial tone. It didn't do much to cheer the kid up, but it did crack a smile on his face for just a second.
"I was supposed to sing a solo today in the choir, but now it's going to go to dumb ol' Arnie. He can't even hit the high note! It's so unfair." Asmodeous twisted his mouth up in displeasure, also not very happy with this turn of events.
"Yeah, is that so? Well, I'm here, if you still want to sing it." Giovanni looked very uncertain, being shy by nature. It was bad enough he'd be singing in front of a bunch of people with the entire choir around him, but singing alone in front of a strange man? Still, it was the only chance he'd have to get to do his performance today, since Christmas mass wouldn't be until another year away.
"Okay, but, not until they're singing it too." Asmodeous nodded with a smile, and they sat in silence until they could hear the music playing. Asmodeous gestured for him to start singing, and a beautiful falsetto voice rang in through the cold morning. The Prince closed his eyes as he listened to his son sing, ignoring the fact that it was a song praising everything he despised from the bottom of his black heart.
When he finished singing, Asmodeous clapped for him while Giovanni blushed and smiled in happiness. Not long after that, the mass service was over and they began letting out. Just as Calandra said she was the first one out the door and ran to gather up her son in a hug, feeling bad now for leaving him out alone in the cold.
"I'm so sorry Giovanni, hopefully this will never happen again. Perhaps the priest will do a cleansing for you and you can get rid of the demonic energy." Giovanni hugged his mom and held her hand as they began to walk away.
"It's okay, I wasn't alone. A nice man came by and let me sing my solo for him. He clapped and everything!" Calandra was perplexed, and not at all very pleased by the sounds of a strange man being alone with her son.
"What did this man look like?" She inquired curiously as she looked around for any sign of this man, but Asmodeous was already long gone.
"He had short black hair and gold-ish looking eyes. He was really tall and wore lots of black. He looked kinda creepy, but was really nice and had a soft voice." The description sounded all too familiar to a man she had known briefly ten years ago and never forgotten, but she didn't mention that fact to her son. Giovanni didn't realize it, but half of that description described him very well. Eventually her young son would be just as tall as his father, and have the same charm as he did.
As Asmodeous left the surface of the Earth and made his way back home, he mulled over somethings racking in his brain. Perhaps being a father wouldn't be such a bad thing after all?
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Posted: Sat Dec 22, 2012 8:36 pm
"Christmas on Ice"
Ialo Enlil
“Well…”
“Hmm?”
“You did say you wouldn’t be home for Christmas again.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Ialo glanced around at the shopping mall. The stores were decorated with red and gold ribbons, and all the plastic palm trees had been replaced with black fir trees and poinsettias. Being Christmas Eve, the only people left in the mall were those doing last-minute shopping, miserable retail workers.... In fact, the only reason they weren’t being kicked out right now was his mother and brother. They had joined forces on the small indoor ice rink, and were tearing it up (only metaphorically, of course, and to the tune of Jingle Bell Rock).
The dragon boy and his human father watched as Mrs. Enlil and Evander passed by in another loop around the rink – Mrs.Enlil’s long white hair fluttering behind her as her third child carried her. It was, of course, nowhere near a proper hold like in ballet, but Evan was tall and strong and their mother was in glamorous dramatic bombshell mode. The security guard seemed oblivious to the general whisperings of “Why is her shirt so low-cut?”
This year, like so many years past, Ialo was all mentally prepared to go through the motions of Christmas without his dad – he had even gone so far as to call his siblings and inform them that he also wouldn’t be home either. He figured they wouldn’t really care. Mom and Dad were never around, and why bother celebrating a holiday about family when yours was constantly split up?
“You don’t have to apologize. You brought everyone here instead. It’s… nice. You got to see my school.”
The song ended, and instead of another lively tune, a slower, more romantic song came on. Well, Ialo didn’t think Away In A Manger was romantic, but his mother was indiscriminate. She had already handed Mr. Enlil a pair of skates and whisked him away from right next to Ialo, leaving Evan in his place. The brothers nodded their greetings, ignoring their parents making out with better balance than at least half the other couples on the rink.
“I heard Dad got you a robot,” Evan said softly. Even without skates on, he stood much taller than Ialo – He probably could stare Danni almost in the eye, and was just as buff as her, since he played hockey at school. He lived his life on ice, and then on mud in the summer when it was field hockey season. Basically, if it involved a ball and a stick, Ialo had seen Evan at least try it.
“I heard Mrs. Hart bought you a dress,” Ialo retorted and watched Evan roll his eyes.
“I humored her for one day. ONE day. And she won’t drop it. She still thinks I’m in my tomboy phase.”
“Was it pink?”
“The dress? No, it’s red, actually. The bra has pink lace though.”
Ialo just about died laughing on the spot, there were tears in his eyes.
“Mrs. Hart is… a very generous woman,” Evan said uncertainly. “Just a bit… conservative. Slow to change. Mom made it up to me, though. She let me buy new binders and a suit, and she even said next year, if I really want, I can go see a doctor….”
“See? Mom likes you. She likes to tell me that the universe switched her eggs around, and that you were supposed to be the big brother and I should have been the big sister.”
Evan smiled again softly. He was too nice to have an evil smirk, but there were shades of it there.
“I think you get mistaken for a girl more often than I do.”
“… Ouch. Absolutely uncalled for.”
“It’s an unfortunately fact of life, dear brother, that I don’t even have a p***s and I still am ten times the man you are. It’s okay though, I’m in no place to judge. Even though I’m judging. Also, Leon gave this to Dad, who gave it to me, to give to you.”
Evan gave Ialo a red envelope, patted his oldest brother on the back, and wandered away to go find his twin, who at some point had wandered off with Caroline to go window shopping.
“Hmm…”
Dear Ialo,
Merry Christmas – or rather, happy belated Winter Solstice and early nineteenth birthday. Like you, I also am not too terribly fond of the Christmas season. I’m pleased to find a kindred spirit in my godson.
It’s unfortunate that I don’t get to see you more often; I really would like to get to know you better. I will be coming to your graduations, so I expect you to receive high marks. You may or may not know this already, but I was the one who insisted you attend Mystic Fountain. It is a good school, and a solid education in magic will serve you well in the future. Science, math, history, and magic will all make you a good man.
If you would permit me to have some further weight in your education, I would like you to come travel with me for a year or two. Believe it or not, I do actually work! I have many contacts, and am quite good at roping in clients when times are tough for your parents. I think a young man like you would benefit from a little soul-searching and learning from old men before settling at university.
What do you say?
With love, your godfather
Papa Leon
P.S.: My son Seth wants to buy a yacht and take everyone out. He will ask you eventually. Please say no. I hate boats.
Ialo shook his head slowly and folded the letter back up. Papa Leon, as he was nicknamed, was the closest Ialo ever had to a proper grandfather. He was old, with a fluffy white beard and poofy sideburns, and always wore a turban of some sort. There was Papa Leon’s sons Seth and Neil, that also worked at the company off and on. They were alright, kind of like uncles if Papa Leon was an honorary grandfather. Ialo had never really asked what they were, as they obviously weren’t human – friendly demons was his best guess, judging by Seth and Neil both seemingly being as good at dark magic as Danni.
But they weren’t here tonight in a tiny shopping mall in Nebraska. Here, was only Ialo and his siblings and his parents.
“IALO~!”
Caroline ran to her oldest brother and tackled him from behind, nearly knocking him in to the rink. She gazed at him with bright blue eyes and white hair, just like him. She was grinning widely, and had at least four shopping bags in each hand.
“I did some last-minute gift shopping! You know, this is a small mall, but there’s so many cute things! Look! I even got something for Zachary – “
“Who?”
“Ah! Um, no one! Just an intern!” The youngest Enlil child and only girl of the bunch hastily backpedaled, panic visible in her eyes. “So I got you something too, but you’ll see it on Christmas, and, um, oh hey, look at Cyril!”
In a desperate bid to escape Ialo’s harsh gaze, she grabbed on the second-oldest boy’s sleeve and pulled him over.
“Eh-wha? What did I – oh!” Cyril stood up and laughed nervously. “So while you were gone, I got to making that band, and, um…. We kinda took over your room. Sorry about that. I promise, we’ll have it disinfected by – AAAAAAAAUGH! EVAN! SAVE ME!!!”
“EVAN CAN’T SAVE YOU NOW, HE ALREADY LEFT TO GO – “
“FOUND HIM!”
“DRAGON PILE!”
“DJFHSDKJHFA!”
The four dragon siblings reunited in a spectacular fashion, with Evan body-slamming Ialo so hard that a cloud of dust rose from the perfectly polished mall floor. Providing backup for his twin, the white-haired Cyril grabbed Ialo next, sitting on his legs.
“Caroline, I’m open!”
Cyril held up his arms and grabbed his little sister as she too jumped into the fray.
“Kids, there you are! Uh – ow, watch where you put that thing – come out to the car, okay?”
Mr. and Mrs. Enlil were being escorted away from the rink by a thoroughly disgruntled female security guard. Both has suspiciously tousled hair, and Mr. Enlil had lipstick stains on his neck, while his wife’s blouse was unbuttoned far past public decency.
“Now see, you can’t arrest us, do you even know who we are?”
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Eloquent Conversationalist
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Posted: Sat Dec 22, 2012 8:59 pm
"[He was there for me, even when I didn't realize it]"
[Beelzebub]  "Yeah, I'm heading home to see my family for the holidays." one of the male students had stated, whilst he waited to see Asmodeous in his office. The other boy turned to face him and smiled "Same here, my mother insists you stop by some time during break." For the longest time, Bee stared at the boys before interrupting their conversation "Seriously, could you guys shut the ******** up? I put up the no talking sign for a reason..". With that he pointed at the hand written sign that he made not too long ago. The handwriting was messy at best and it was clear even for the average idiot to see. The boys stared at him before returning their eyes to their laps, obviously unsure of how to respond to the said demon, who was an authority, sadly.
Beelzebub sighed softly and leaned back in his chair, now thinking of this whole family nonsense. From what he gathered mortals were big on family and it puzzled him why that was, considering the only family he's had, had been the other sins--- even that could be disappointing. Because they were in the same boat with one another, and they came from the same origin, they had to be some sort of family right? At any rate, he didn't hold much attachment towards them and could drop them faster than one could say his own name. Now that he thought about it, the only one he ever liked or could find some sort of attachment towards had been Asmodeous, and that was a lot different compared to others. He twirled his pen between his bony fingers as he thought about this said topic, and it didn't hit him that the boys had already left their seats and had been welcomed into Asmo's office.
Bee didn't care, to be honest, as long as things weren't messed with and the room wasn't loud. Still in thought, the demon looked at his left hand and gazed at the ring on his finger that had been given to him by Asmo, the sight alone warmed his heart and made him smile in turn. Sighing, he tossed the pen onto the desk and examined the dishelved office before rising from his seat to get some coffee; perhaps a cigarette and some caffeine could wake him up a little? All of this thinking, after all, only bored him and in result, made him tired. As he walked out of his "office" and into the hallway, the male caught a quick glimpse of one of the teachers and in return jumped before glancing back at their face. For a moment, he was reminded of his ex and it then brought back memories from when he did go out with the guy, named Syven, and one of those memories had been when he visited the male's family on Christmas.
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"Now, you have to promise me you won't do anything ridiculous while we're here, my mother will flip and so will my dad." Syven had said to him, and searched for the demon's eyes, who was currently chugging down a flask full of vodka.
The green eyes, male made a face and honestly couldn't understand his need to indulge every day, it drove the human crazy to watch his boyfriend intoxicate himself like this. Bee, who was known as Xavier, rolled his eyes and capped the flask before slipping it into one of his pockets. "Yeah, yeah, though your parents will find out sooner or later how I am. Syven shook his silver hair before answering "And that will be the day I hope the ground eats me up...". Bee chuckled lightly and turned to knock on the door only to be greeted by lithe woman with the same green eyes as Syven and a smile brighter than he's ever seen, and quite frankly it annoyed him. "Welcome home honey! Oh and...this is your boyfriend?".
The woman's face dropped when she got a good look at Bee and the word "Boyfriend" seemed almost gross when it came out of her mouth. "Yes mom, my boyfriend, his name is Xaiver, so you don't have to resort to labeling him as 'the boyfriend'.". It was then that the woman forced a smile on her face before extending a friendly hand and another smile his way "Welcome, Xavier, pleased to meet you.". Syven's mother moved aside and ushered the boys in, now making her place on the couch, which wasn't far off from the door. Next to her had been Syven's father, he seemed to be less fake than Syven's mother, for he didn't have a smile on his face and his expression said it all---- he wished a woman would have been around Syven's arm, not Bee. It was okay, for Bee was now too intoxicated to care. Now sitting on the love seat, Bee glanced around the room before taking note that Syven's parents had been that "religious" type and it made him cringe ever so slightly.
On the other hand, it amused him that their son was not only going against the whole "Man should lay with woman" but he was sleeping with one of the Devil's spawn. Finally Syven's father spoke up "So..at five we're heading to church and it would be nice if you guys could join us for the Christmas Eve service.". Immediately, Beelzebub interjected and bluntly stated .. Syven's mother and father now gawked at him, obviously not the best thing to say upon first meeting. A sharp jab hit his side and Bee moved his head to notice Syven's face which read "Are you serious right now?!". If his boyfriend had thought he was going to comply to this cruel and unusual torture, then he had another thing coming to him. "What? I don't like the holy father and his so called son. If you asked me a lot of the things you read in the bible is a bunch of bullshit and the book deserves to be burned..".
Needless to say, that night didn't turn out well and it wasn't long before Syven broke it off with Bee. Oddly enough, during that break up, Beelzebub was heart broken and resorted back to his place in hell. However, at one point he was at Asmodeous's manor.
"I don't know how you're doing it but human relationships are a waste of time, hell relationships in general has no point." Bee, who sat next to the fellow demon gave him a look before speaking up "You can stop making pokes at my own love life and if it make you happy, we're done now.". For a moment Asmodeous stared at him before bursting out in a fit of laughter, obviously finding some kind of amusement in this. Bee stared at him and shoved him by the shoulders, now knocking him back onto the mattress--- in which they've been sitting on for a while. In the midst of knocking him back, the demon pulled Bee with him. In a rebellious retort, the male went to yank away from Asmo, only to be pulled back. A growl left his lips as he stared at him "It's not funny you ignorant a*****e! Not get your grimey hands off of me!".
However, the other demon knew that there was no threat when he had said this, instead of showing any kind of fear he reached up and pulled the male into a kiss. As much as Bee wanted to pull away and smack him, the demon kissed him back and finally pulled away---- now remembering his yearning for him, as he had before. Pulling back, now, he looked into the demon's eyes "Well I don't see why you would run off and look for this thing called love in a human, when you have everything that you want here, with me.".
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Now that he thought about it, the only person he ever considered "family" had been Asmodeous and he hoped he felt the same. Even when he was with Syven, Asmo was there even if he was making sarcastic pokes at his relationship. Sure, he still made fun of him for his past mistake but it still was the fact that he was always there for him, that made him realize that Asmo was his only family. Perhaps, for the holidays, he would spend it with him, like everybody else who was spending it with their loved ones.
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