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Post by etherelle on Mar 4, 2010 17:10:07 GMT -4
| D R I F T E R S | Information on Drifters World: Politics: Geography: Weather: (To be updated later) | Players: | MistressSocrates: Reila Etherelle: Everett
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Post by etherelle on Mar 6, 2010 5:01:32 GMT -4
When Everett fell asleep underneath the bowels of the train, curled up underneath the pipes and ribs of wood, his precious and few belongings packed in a small ragged backpack in his arms, he hadn't planned on slipping free. He didn't plan on rolling out, hitting the back of his head hard against the rails as the train roared over head, effectively scaring him into wakefulness. He didn't plan on scrambling out from underneath the train's tracks, throwing himself through a small window of opportunity between the screaming wheels, only to find himself springing face first into a muddy ditch. But then again. Everett didn't plan on a lot of things.
For a runaway soldier--No, scratch that. For a runaway prisoner of war, Everett wasn't able to plan on things. Day to day living was a guess, a wild and reckless throw of the dice. It was a miracle that a being like him was able to survive, let alone escape. Wrenching himself free and stumbling blindly into the darkness, seeking the graceful shadows, Everett shucked off as much mud as he could from his meager clothes and his small parcel of belongings. He had to get out of sight...He had to get somewhere he could rest! He had been moving nonstop for so long, unable to allow himself sleep or even a momentary close of his eyes. Fear alone was driving him onward, granting him the energy he needed to barrel through the dark shapes of the night. And as he ran, he kept his mouth open and sang.
But there was no sound.
That was the trick, the ability of being a Lyre, able to mask himself and mimic any sound possible. It was a priceless trick to mask his own passing by singing SILENCE. But his throat was not invincible. It was straining now from weariness, lack of water, and use. He had to find somewhere to rest...And quick. Otherwise he may be caught. Being a Lyre, having that very gift, is what labeled him a potential danger, a tool, and a murderous deceiver. It was his inborn death warrant.
The runaway ran for a long time from the railroad tracks, just moving forward , clambering over and through any obstacle he came across. He kept away from sights or sounds that he considered untrustworthy. Running headlong into the side of a dark building he failed to see, Everett bounced off of it with a gasp and fell back flat onto his rump. He didn't see the dark shape loom out of the darkness. The sky was overcast with cold-bearing clouds and the starlight was choked off, leaving the land in nothing but impenetrable black. It was a building through, and it was dark. He cut himself silent and listened intently, straining his ears for signs of life.
...Nothing.
Blinking his red and weary eyes, Everett picked himself up carefully from the ground. He moved himself along the building and discovered it to be very small. He soon felt out the shape and the handle of a door, and with an eager, almost desperate, shove, he pushed inside. It was a small garden shed. Dark and empty, save for the tools stored there. Everett sighed in weary relief and closed the door behind him, immediately searching out a corner or somewhere he could hide behind. Discovering a work bench of some sort, the Lyre fell onto his knees and crawled underneath it, tucking himself tight to its dark shadows. This, he decided, would be his place of rest. He'd sleep for a few hours...Before daybreak, he would wake...then...he...would...continue on...keep running...running...
Of course. That was all considering that things went according to plan. But Everett should have known that things, when it came to him, it seemed, hardly ever went according to plan.
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Post by mistresssocrates on Mar 6, 2010 6:20:07 GMT -4
Was it 12am or 4am? He didn't know...days where timeless and skies were colorless, he was only told what time, night, and day were an when they occurred. To the boy though it didn't matter, what was the use of describing if he couldn't see them for himself? Touch, feel, and smell were the only things he could rely on. Things were not always like this; memories of vision and the colors of the earth still would flash in his dreams, but sleeping did not come easily to him. It was hard falling asleep to black when it is all you can see, black had not become a peaceful color anymore. Black was a prison of sight. Climbing from his bed the young man's feet touched the cold lifeless boards that stood beneath him. Curling his nose rubbing them against the wood he felt the smooth glossy texture. Arms stretched moving in a awkward motion he began to walk using his arms as guides to protect him until he reached the wall. Gingerly making way toward the hall wall his finger tips felt the rough bumpy texture of the tacky wallpaper he could picture so ever perfectly. Running them down the side he breathed in a low matter not to let anyone know of his awaken self. Maids and butlers at rest gave him an intimidating pressure to be as quiet as possible. Hurrying as soon as the wall had ended and his hand stumbled into open space he grasped the wood of the rails that linked to the staircase. Tip toeing on his delicate feminine feet he made his way down into the grand room, the entrance into the mighty Victorian an western influenced home. Aiming his arms out as guides this time his pacing stumbled but quicker searched for the door. The pressure he felt inside the house was to great, the last thing he wished would to be caught again and treated like a foolish child being told the rules an what would keep him safe.AH HA! Finding the ice chillingly cold crystal door nob he clenched it tightly opening it without trouble. The sudden creak in the old oak door made him cringe an lose his stomach. Tense waiting for a door upstairs to open...nothing happened, he sighed in relief an smirked of his victory. Closing the door behind him he was eager to take his first step onto the soil. Bedtime in the household was his favorite time, this was the time he could be alone. Not escorted or watched over like a child, he was 20 dammit! He was blind not mental disabled, the very thought of it disgusted him. Putting aside his hateful thoughts he stepped off the porch and dipped his foot toe first into the chilling air of the night till it hit the soft moist earth below. GOD did it feel so good! Constantly being dressed up in tight knickerbockers, a buttoned shirt, vest, and leather laced shoes looking like a damn American bastard child made him enraged. The young man wasn't like that, he loved nature and he loved the freedom of lose clothing. Shoes restrained him from one of the only senses he has left the freedom of feeling the earth beneath his feet. The male squished and squeezed his small toes into the dirt letting it over take his foot. Letting out a pleasurable moan he lifted them taking long strides letting the dirt fall from his toes. The feeling felt like cold bugs squirming and falling off his flesh. Taking in deep breaths of the nights chilling air he walked to a familiar place, a place he spent most of his seeing days in, the shed. When he reached the well sized wooden shed he unlatched the rough wooden door and stepped in. The young yellow glowing man stood in the door way. Not a very tall man he fit his stature very well. Long black hair was braided in a low pony tail that hung and dangled on his back. His bangs in a straight cut tickled the tops of his eye brows and sat perfectly, forehead unseen. The head that laid upon his neck was quite round till it came to his pointed chin, his lips were thin and pink with no shin to them at all. His half open eyes revealed a dull lifeless tangle of Grey and scarlet color as they had no real object they were focused on. The body of the man was hard to picture as it was covered by a white night males night gown that lingered open at his ankles. Not ugly nor beautiful the man was interesting look, ethnics unknown by his nameless looks. In the shed it smelt of dirt, metal, and molding wood. His eyes at a wonder less gaze he used his hands to feel the space around him and the objects that hung and dangled on the wall. Frowning in disapproval he knew what became of his shed...once filled with drying paintings and materials of sorts was now covered in gardening supplies. Legs giving up on standing fell under him placing him on the cold cement floor of the cold cold shed. He did not understand why he had become this, why it had happen to him. The man leaned against the pillar that held a table a stand, letting his arms lay lifelessly beside him he began to adjust till he felt a soft skin like texture warm with life. Scooting from his place in shock he covered his mouth unaware of what he should do. Someone was in here, who? Why? Frighten he watched as he waited for a resonance. (no proof reading was to tired to do so! )
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Post by etherelle on Mar 6, 2010 14:31:50 GMT -4
The brief touch wasn't what woke him up, it was the scrambling back of a body that did. Even then, Everett found it extremely hard to pull himself from the seductive folds of sleep. He blinked wearily into the darkness, not really understanding what it was that woke him up in the first place until he saw the ghostly shape of a person sitting just a few feet away. Still, it took him a couple groggy moments to blink his crusty eyes at him before he realized that there was, indeed, a man sitting just outside his makeshift hiding place. Startling and choking back a cry of surprise, Everett reacted out of fear.
He couldn't let this person scream!
Leaping forward from beneath the table, the Lyre tackled the other man to the ground of the work shed, pinning him down while his hands covered the man's mouth. He was a soldier, after all.
"Shh!" Everett hissed, his voice bleary and desperate, "Don't speak! Don't even scream! Please, don't speak!" Breathing hard, Everett fought to keep his balance, his head swirling with the effects of sleep. Sitting over the other man, his hands clasped tight over his face, Everett tried to discern the other's features. He was fair, of pale skin and long dark hair, and he was in his sleeping robes. Everett dully noted the fact that his dirty clothes and recent adventure through the mud and brambles was smudging the other's clean white fabric. He couldn't tell if this man was a threat, and when he peered into the other's eyes, he felt like something was wrong.
"Please," Everett said again, breathless, his voice strained, "I don't want to hurt you. I just want sleep!"
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Post by mistresssocrates on Mar 7, 2010 4:00:12 GMT -4
Shaking laying in pure fear his arms an hands twitched against the cold flooring. Whimpering beneath the stranger he was puzzled of what to do. The other sounded innocent but Reila hadn't been in this kind of situation before, he couldn't trust this being forcing him down. Crying out he muffled under the dirt stained hands "please please". His hands clasped the other's wrist in a nervous manner. The man's eyes drifted all around not focusing on any object, their milky Grey color painted a lifeless picture as they did not have the normal spark of light in them.
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Post by etherelle on Mar 8, 2010 4:59:07 GMT -4
Everett held his hands over the other's mouth for a while longer, trying to figure out what it was that was so wrong about this man he was straddled over. He peered at his face, confused, until he finally understood. It was a small detail, but when he finally noticed, he was surprised at his own lack of perception. In reality, it was no small detail at all! This man's eyes...They were empty. This man, whoever he was, was blind.
For a moment, the Lyre's heart jumped into his throat with hope. He thought, at first, that this was to his advantage. If this man couldn't see, then he wouldn't be able to tell anyone of who he was! But that was stupid. In fact, it almost placed him at a greater risk. The way in telling a Lyre from others, besides the obvious branding burned into scars upon their necks, was in their voices. If he relaxed, Everett's natural voice would sound like an echo. It was only thanks to his straining that he could make himself sound "normal". If Everett slipped even once, used his ability without thinking, he was sure this blind man, whose ears and hearing must be superior to everyone else, would discover his race and disclose unto all his terrible secret.
...He would have to take a chance...
"Please...Don't speak. If you even inhale a breath to scream, I will hurt you," Everett said, his own voice betraying his fear with an occasional quaver. Slowly, very slowly, he released his hands from the other's mouth and leaned back, still ready to pounce on him if he dared to make a scream.
"...I don't want any trouble...I'm just passing through and I need somewhere to sleep. I'm so tired..."
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Post by mistresssocrates on Mar 8, 2010 20:38:15 GMT -4
Gasping for air as the man released his mouth the man backed up still he was stumbling on him self to get up. "Do you have any idea who I am?" his words sounded like hiccups which pop-ed out in slow dragged out words of fear. He stood before the intruder hands clasped on a shelf behind for support from his shaking bent knees. Breathing heavily from the lack of air, he whimpered in frightened , he wasn't intending on anything of the sort to happen. He didn't know what to say as because he had never run into a problem such as this before. "I-I-I....I am, Reila Tobias Vienna Barber! Son of the Duke of Aja" swallowing deeply he continued. "how dare you intrude my manor. How dare you touch me! You think I'll just let you go?" the man's voice as he talked on became confident but still shaky he stumbled toward the door off balance with his arms out "Merriam! Johnathan" he started to in rage yell his butler's names.
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Post by etherelle on Mar 9, 2010 15:06:35 GMT -4
"No!" Leaping forward, Everett tackled the man again into the wall of the small shack. He couldn't let this man awake the others! Screaming silence, choking off the last of the hollered names, Everett clasped his hand again over Reila's mouth and this time pinned him to the wall with the force of his own body, his arm laid dangerously against Reila's pale neck. He was tired, too tired, to be dealing with this...He could hardly think let alone make a rational argument with this panicking man. Everett knew full well that his own paranoid reactions against him was doing nothing but adding full to the fire, but there was, in his quick thinking and sleepy mind, nothing else he could do.
Wishing to the powers that be, Everett prayed that Reila's desperate wails for protection weren't heard by those within the house. "Please, please!" Everett begged again, refusing to give into the slowly rising need to use brute force against this man, "Reila, forgive me, I am sorry for all this, but you're making me do it! I told you to be quiet! If they come out here...I...I don't know what I'll do. I can't trust you, I know that, and you can't trust me...I don't know what to do..."
Then suddenly he was hit with resolve.
He had to take matters into his own hands. He had to survive, escape. Everett promised himself that he would never let himself get caught again...He promised that to Kingsley...Biting his lip and twisting his hand underneath Reila's throat, moving his head into a position where he could easily snap it back, Everett glowered at the blind man, suddenly filled with dangerous determination.
"You will not speak of me," he said, stepping forward so that his own worn booted sole rested atop the other man's exposed toes, "Or, so help me, I will crush and cut off every one of your toes." To emphasize his point, prove to the man that he wasn't joking, he leaned his weight forward, digging his heal against the other's toes. He made sure to keep a grip on the young man's mouth to choke off the scream. "If you so much as speak a word of me, I will find you. I will find you when no one else is there to look after you and I will cut off your toes so you can never stand by yourself again."
And as he said that Everett frowned. He didn't like how he was sounding. He didn't like being like this at all, it tasted bitter on his tongue and made his stomach churn. So, in a weak effort to plead again as himself, the escapee pleaded softly, "Please, I just want somewhere safe to sleep." And he leaned back from Reila's toes.
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Post by mistresssocrates on Mar 10, 2010 1:18:09 GMT -4
Reila's breathing paced as the man spoke harsh words. He was frightened, knees shaking, and his body quivering; hands gripped onto the others thick toned arm. The grip was tight but weak in its approach as he was vibrating to much to seem like a threat to escape. As a sudden pressure bared down a most uncomfortable weight upon his toes he let out a cry filled shriek of help. Once the man took his foot off Reila's delicate toes, he felt sick. Not a comfortable sick at all, all this worry and stress that had been placed upon him made him dizzy. Reila's small fragile legs were slipping underneath him; struggling to keep himself up he muffled under the man's hand "Breath.......I need breath". that enough wore him out as his grip slowly released on the arm compressing his neck. He swallowed as much as the room between his neck and the others arm would allow....which wasn't very much. His nose and mouth in vain began sucking in the air they could get, all that came from it was the sent of dirt off of the hand. Reila drifted in and out of mind sets; dirt, he liked the smell of dirt the slowly eyes rolled back into his head, he deiced to give up. Which lead to the limpness that now accrued in his body. He began to shift down bring the other with him. Reila at this point was about as useful as a rag doll.
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Post by etherelle on Mar 10, 2010 22:54:12 GMT -4
The man's body began to grow heavy in his arms and Everett found it increasingly difficult to keep him up against the wall. He was confused as to why he was struggling and weakening, wilting like a flower. Did he really scare him that much that he would faint?! Everett hoped he didn't. That was the last thing he wanted to d-...Well, hold on a moment, it was his original intention to frighten him...Oh damn it all! In the middle of hating himself, the Lyre noticed that his arm was still tightly pressed against the other's neck.
Duh.
Deciding then that he what he really needed was sleep, Everett lowered the other man gently to the ground. He didn't want to give this poor person...What was his name? Reila?...anymore trouble than what was necessary. So, as he tried to balance himself between the man and himself, but when the descended, he immediately wobbled to the back and fell with the other in his lap. Groaning, Everett tried to edge himself out from underneath Reila, but he was pinned between him and the wall and sleep was fast overwhelming him. He had a hard time opening his eyes after he blinked and he found himself too weak to struggle anymore.
"Hey..." he muttered, his voice sappy with dreariness, "Hey...you...Reila...geddoff...I can't....You need to get...off...'m so...tired...so... tired, I'm gunna...sleep..."
Then Everett slumped his head onto his chest and drifted away despite the screaming voice that tried to keep him away.
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Post by mistresssocrates on Mar 11, 2010 2:35:13 GMT -4
In the stage of sleep Reila drifted in and out of wakefulness. It was cold in the morning, a cool dew that covered the ground and made the wooden shake damp. The small window that was the only source (THE SOURCE) of light in the shed was covered in a thin white layer of frost. Reila laid on-top of the other man clenching onto his dirty clothing tightly as a if I child would. He wore only his night gown made out of thin soft cloth, which proved as barley any protection from the cold morning's weather. Reila couldn't help but curl in fetal position try to cuddle closer to the one below for warmth.
opening his lids slightly he breathed in a small cold breeze of air. It felt like rushing water down his throat as it almost stung. Removing one of his curled hands form his chest he went to grab the blanket that wasn't there and instead grabbed a hand full of the other's shirt. At first he didn't realize what it was, he laid in a mindless position as he was still in the stage between being awake and sleeping. Reila was one to sleep, it was hard to get for him. As he began to close his half open lids he realized that what he thought was a pillow was a breathing chest?
Jumping back from the man calculating all of last nights events he became un at easy again. Unfortunately he couldn't just walk out of the shed to warn the others of what happen because his long black braid was caught on the other's buttons on his jacket. "ow...." he mumbled unaware of where it was caught. The blind youth then began to kick the stranger "wake up you fool!" reila said in a most hateful lazy way as he shortly after yawned. "Help me!" he said with one last kick. Reila rubbed his heavy eyes as kept his head low being caution not to pull on his hair.
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Post by etherelle on Mar 12, 2010 16:53:42 GMT -4
Startled awake by the other's struggles and movements, the Lyre gave a mumbled grumble and forced his eyes open. He had to yank himself hard from sleep, he had fallen so deep. As he slept, there was nothing but blackness, and he could've slept a whole day more except for the man kicking him. He hardly noticed that the other had slept against him. He didn't even notice that there WAS another man there. The poor Lyre was so tired.
Lifting himself up from the floor, the man surveyed the situation with a bleary blink of his eyes and began pulling the other's messy braid free from his buttons and straps.
"Oh," Everett mumbled tiredly, careful not to yank the other's hair, "Sorry 'bout that..." He freed the other's braid, and patted his shoulder, "There you go, all free..."
Free.
Everett was free. Why was he free? He escaped. What did he escape from? The army. He escaped from the army and the dogs and the hate and the hurt, the torture and the pain, his fellow tortured Lyres...He was in a shack. With another stranger sitting beside him, hip to hip.
Everett jumped, hit his head on the underside of the desk, groaned, and curled up upon himself, rubbing the top of his head with a sad grumble. Reaching for the other's arm, Everett snatched a hold of him and begged, "Please, don't let anyone know that I'm here!"
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Post by mistresssocrates on Mar 13, 2010 4:16:56 GMT -4
As his cold cheek pressed upon the others warm chest he realized of how he woke up. Against another's chest huddled for comfort, and never the less a man. The thought of the human contact made his face flush. Reila was not the kind to 'touch' or 'cuddle', he found it degrading and shameless to throw yourself so much upon someone. though from the position he was in now , he was fine with it. The other felt warm compared to the frozen stale air, an he smelled like dirt which was Reila's favorite smell. He sighed in pleasure as he enjoyed- NO! Gripping onto the man's chest he pushed himself free from his hold keeping his distance. This person was another man, how disgusting! men did not 'hold' each other. The very thought of two men together in...that way made him appealed.
"You may not touch me boy!" he said un-gripping his clench; his eyes half closed and staring off somewhere else in their lifeless way. Crossing his arms to try to gain warmth his face cringed in a frustrated way as he turned himself away from the other. "Why are you in my shed? Why must you intrude my home!" every word got louder and more irritated as he went on. Talking was the only thing he could think of seeing how calling for help was useless. He began to wonder in the silence why no one was out looking for him, surely they would be worried for him, possibly it could be to early he thought but never the less he was upset at the situation. Reila was cold and hungry and mighty irritated at the other next to him.
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Post by etherelle on Mar 13, 2010 5:02:30 GMT -4
For the first few moments it seemed like the other man had calmed from his initial outbreak. Perhaps he was just grumpy from the grogginess of sleep? Everett hoped that it was the case, but when he finally released him and he shoved away, staring off to nowhere as he angrily shouted out him, Everett choked back his hopes. He was kind of thankful at that moment that the other was blind, more than just for keeping his identity secret, but also because he didn't have to see him flinch every time he yelled. The loud noises drew out these reflexes automatically and he couldn't help himself.
"I-I already told you! I just wanted a place to sleep. I had no where else to go!" he said. He didn't know what there was for him to really say without putting himself in jeopardy. He was a runaway! A war slave! There would be a bounty on his head for sure! Caught escapees were tortured in the most brutal of ways, most of them having to do with the mouth. They were Lyres after all and that was the worst hurt to be done to one. To poor boiling water down their throats...Force them into eating rocks...Even to unnameable tortures. Everett shuddered in fear. His poor friend...His poor friend had to endure them...
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Post by mistresssocrates on Mar 21, 2010 1:27:35 GMT -4
Shocked at the others change of tone he flinched for a moment but regained himself back with a most hateful glare at the man "Don't raise your tone with me!" snarling he rubbed his long messy braid. "What is your name boy? An what are you fleeing from? People do not usually barge their way into others sheds demanding sleep for no reason. You sounded like you had been running as well. So what do I have the honor of you for" Reila's tone was sarcastic as he continued on. He thought interrogating the other would get answers out of him, as he was mighty curious of how he came to be in the situation he was in. Before the lyre could answer foot steps of sloshing mud came from outside the shed. A Harsh foreign language was being shouted in a most breathy way as if the air was being taken from their mouth, this person had been running. A sudden surprising clutch to the shed's door came fast as it started to rumble. MASA MASA is what the person seem to be shouting. The damp wooden door shook and shook but would no open. It was stuck shut from the old hinges that were locked in place the following night when the lyre attacked the rich foreigner. Reila jumped at the sudden shack and noise from the door. his breath heavily pacing he wobbled to his feet "Solomon!" his voice was surprised with ounces of glee. Reila beamed as he to started to speak in a foreign tongue toward the door. he payed no hid to the other he had been having the conversation with. This was a chance at getting out of this awkward mess.
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