Gentle lightning hollow rain quiet and crushed with mourning why are you grief-shaped, my darling? art thou void? i pray i do you justice, and i do not pray lightly quick witted selfish, maybe something eats at you Do not cry do not skewer yourself
reflexive interpersonal watch my eyes regardez moi j'aime mon amour je prie, je prie, je prie
don't take me in vain don't betray yourself you seem a bird flying above immortal, if for a moment
let go
one eye boy knocking palm face-down dearest
knocking palm crying out dearest is this pain?
crying out save him! is this pain? carbonation
save him! stab wounds and carbonation carry the body
stab wounds and alchohol carry the body matchbox bones
alchohol they said his matchbox bones were ours
they said his soul was impure were ours also?
soul was impure of course, idiot also? **** you
of course, idiot tear my hair out **** you one eye boy
tear my hair out he is trapped one eye boy minefield graveyard
wake eyes open come to life what have i left? oh my death tear filled destroyed
dropped i slept in cold peace ignoring those outside it those i love so alone broken
music it plays i feel empty no apologies will fit i shall beg for forgiveness stops
ink pen crusted it cannot write it wont say sorry i am frozen dust sticks dry
screams of terror from my lips i confront my past i dread response come pain shatter
leave me to my shame. let me sleep again.
Our eyes meet in the coffeeshop. Stimuli is new, sound is new, the real solid world spinning around me like a dizzying light display. But her eyes lock me in place. The recognition is grounding. Her gasp sends me stepping toward her. Every breath is a struggle, increasingly similar to inhailing water. Drown me, I ask. Gladly, she responds.
breathtaking beauty violent delight gleaming hunger darkness takes it will consume everything it can get it's purebred hands on and desecrate it
the monster (the dark) prowles at night as souls flee to save their young
(it will find you and make you it's own)
panting breaths shallow cries like a silent stalker the black sky raises it's scythe a glorious arc is carved through the air (so victorious)
can there be any comfort in a time that hides such a cruel thing
...
i think not
...
watch these small houses quaint and quietly comely burn as stars do
that is your solace if it was not stolen with your innocence
with darkness comes night, but also stars
i will ask this which is more terrible then the other?
The walls were her.
She new naught of life outside them, caressing and suffocating in tandem.
These mockeries were made the same as her flesh, but without soul. Meat without animation. Hard and unforgiving. When she beat on them, she couldn't carry on without imagining hitting another.
There was no comfort in a house of inhumanity.
She was built in another's image, in shape of something she had never seen. Carved with giant hands, shaping her gently. When she did glimpse life outside of her walls (those wretched, wretched walls), music serenaded her and spun her without a care to her sight, deperatley glancing with an unturnable neck to see what she was missing.
And then it was back to darkness. Stale air. Cold floor. She would cry, surely, if her wooden eyes allowed.
The walls inspired fear. They inspired anger.
They inspired hate.
The dancer danced in hope to escape. Her fine gears turned and delicately, gently, wore down.
It was only a matter of time.
Ten stuffed another donut into his mouth. "No, I just think its a job for someone-"
"Okay. stop." Iris held up a hand to shield herself from the powered-sugar-spray, face twisted in disgust. "She made her choice."
"Yeah! I made my choice" Masha parrots. She twirls, skirt spinning like a small whirlpool. "Besides, it's not like I'll get caught."
"That's what they all say." Ten smirks and takes another bite.
Maybe Ten was right.
The huge figure of Idol Company loomed in front of Masha. The center of all Idol communications, tech production, and espionage.
Masha squared her shoulders, clutching her jeans jacket closer around her shoulders, and went inside. The foyer hit her with a burst of warmth and noise. The tiles shone like marble (Oh crap, were they? Masha wiped her feet in case). Idols in shiny gem-like costumes glittered and flitted, talking to reporters and tittering at stunned civilians.
She was really in the thick now. Masha ducked down and made a b-line toward the bright gold desk. The lady smiled kindly and nodded over her bronze half-moon glasses. "What do you need, dear?"
Masha tried to comb her curly black hair frantically with one hand and clutched her purse with the other. "Ahhh, I'm here for the interview? I'm applying to be a-"
"Entry-level dietician, yes?" Her smile crinkled her face in a grandmotherly fashion. "Elias is very excited about you. Take the elevator to the 39th floor-" She gestiured going up as she spoke "And it's the second office on your right. Can't miss it, he's a bit of a narcissist."
Masha was left wondering what _that _meant as she thanked the woman and stepped into the silver elevator.
"Wait! Hold it!"
Masha flinched back from the button, glancing wildly up before a man barreled into her. She stumbled back, catching herself on one of the bars and looking up to the most beautiful blue eyes she'd ever seen.
"I'm so sorry!" River gasped. River, known for being an osteichthye with water-manipulating abiltities to match. Famous for his pretty face and charming personality. Even more famous for having recently captured Pyre, a fire fiend commonly considered his match. Her trial would be soon.
Masha floundered, starstruck. River helped her up and hit the button for the 47th floor.
They stood there in silence for a minute. River broke it.
"Uhh, what are you in for?" He was more awkward then she had imagined. Masha blushed.
"I'm interviewing for a dietician spot for up-and-comming Idols." As soon as the words left her mouth, Masha wanted to kick herself. It was inappropriate to refer to Idol apprentices as 'Up and comming' or the like, because Idols were constant. They were born the strongest and they would stay the strongest.
Luckily, River didn't notice the slip. In fact, he perked up. "That's sick! We've been needing a new one since Dylan clobbered that old man!" He whipped out his phone, typing something rapid-fire.
Masha paused, then chanced a push: "...Dylan?"
River stopped in his tracks. His face turned to a sheepish look as he rubbed that back of his neck. "I probably wasn't supposed to say that. But, you know, sometimes apprentices get a bit rowdy." He chuckled, "Don't tell anyone I told you?"
Masha nodded and laughed, ignoring her boiling gut. The elevator chimed for her stop, and she nodded bashfully at River as she stepped off.
Then back to interview mode. Deep breaths. It would be fine. It's not like her whole life was riding on this.
The door the lady had indicated was indeed adorned with a golden name tag. Masha knocked, and a wiry old man answered.
It was going to be so fine.
"You're Ms. Patel?" The man strengthened some papers on his desk.
"Yes. It's very nice to meet you, sir." Now sitting, Masha extended a hand over his desk to shake. Elias took it with a firm expression.
"You as well. Honestly, Miss, your qualifications are quite impressive, and your reviews are glowing. Jin himself vouched for you, and I don't take that lightly. You went to Keating Prep for college?"
"That's correct."
"Wonderful. Well, I just have a few housekeeping items then. Do you have an ability?"
Masha's heart sped up. "Ahhhh, you'll see on my forms, sir, I'm a Falling. My grandmother used to be able to get anyone to agree with her, but all I can do is make people dance with me."
"Yes, I see." Elias muttered, squinting at the papers. "And you don't have any Fiend ties?"
"Well- not really." She forced her eyes down to her hands.
"Not really?"
"Not too long ago, my best friend was kidnapped by villians. They're still looking. But I don't think of them positively. Never."
"Perfect." Elias smiled. "We'll get back to you soon."
She was with Pluto and Ori when the news came.
Pluto had been somber since- well. Ten tried, and he seemed to be the only one who could help, but he had his own affairs to attend to. Which left Ori and Masha to cheer him up.
A horrible idea, which was why the acceptance letter had perfect timing.
"I got in!"
Ori wrapped her in a huge hug. Over her shoulder, Masha watched Pluto. He locked eyes with her.
She gazed back impassively. A promise.
Job training for working to be with Idols was laborious. Masha had to be PR prepped, just in case, she had to be fitted for a uniform (all trainers regardless of gender wore the same jumper- black and fancy). She got personalized stationary, an office, a wifi password, elevator keys, etc. Her DNA was put on file- the blood test was a surprise.
And so, a week later, she was finally ready.
Elias started her with small Idols. There were about 120 total in the city, with around 35 taking apprentices at a time. Not all of them were big like River and his apprentice, Fog, or like Juliette and Saturn. She worked pretty well with them.
Masha was told at the begining that not all Idols were kind. Most were self-centered, especially as their fame grew. As Masha got premoted, she figured out just how true that was.
"I don't trust her as far as I can throw her." Fog sniffed, nose in the air. She had been told, after signing several NDAs, that his real name was Dylan and he had scared off her predicessor. He also seemed to be a bit of a brat.
"Be nice." River chided, frowning apologetically at Masha. He had remembered her, apparently, and that had spoken a few times since she started. He seemed desperate to make friends, especially since all the other Major Idols were so much older then him.
"You're araneae, right?" Fog prodded. Masha nodded. "What level do you come from?"
She didn't like where this was going. "Nine."
River whistled while Fog sneered. "Even Idols don't like to patrol down there. They say it's too dark." He turns to River. "Have you been down there?"
"Of course." River laughs. "Pyre was a lower level Fiend. I'm very familiar with everything under 12. It's the new stuff up here I'm struggling with." Struggling, hmmmm. "I should bring you down sometime. Show you where it gets real."
Masha giggle lightly "Make sure to say hi! Now, onto calorie intake, your chart says-"
"Chart?" Fog grimaced. "I haven't been filling out a chart."
"Ah!" Masha glanced at River, unsure. He looked curious. She pushed on. "You don't need to. They track your vitals through your tracking chip."
"Tracking chip?" That was River. He looked disturbed.
"Yes? The one they monitor you through. That's how they know where you are and if anything dangerous is happening."
"I-" River glanced at Fog, who had gone pale. "Didn't know about that."
Shoot. Was she not supposed to tell people?
Whatever. It would get out anyways. Probably nothing. And who could trace it to her?
After the session, River sent Fog on his way so he could talk to her alone.
"Sorry about the tracker thing. I'm not a veteran, even though-"
"Don't worry." Masha smiled, almost unsure.
"Yeah, yeah." He laughed awkwardly. "Hey, this is kind of random, but... you seem really nice, and I was wondering if we could get coffee sometime?"
Masha grinned. "If you can find time in your schedule."
"That's true." He looked thoughtful for a second. "Why not go now?"
There was a small café on every 5th floor of the Idol tower. Often in the middle they were hogged by press and tourists, but higher up it was only Idols and staff.
Masha and River got a table near the back, Masha discreetly sending off a text on her phone while River ordered. Then conversation.
"So, River," She started "What do you do for fun?"
"Uhh, well, to start." He tapped the table and looked her softly in the eye, "You don't need to call me River. Edan is fine."
Masha blushed. "Okay. Edan. What do you do for fun?"
"I like to run." His face opened a little, mouth turning upwards. Masha was hit with a little burst of sadness.
It was too late, though.
"Yeah? Do you have anyone you live with?"
"Just my dog. She's a small puppy." He pulled out his phone to show her. "Wanna see?"
Just as Masha nodded, the alarms went off.
ALERT. ALERT. FIEND SECURITY BREACH. ALERT. ALERT. ALL CIVILIANS EVACUATE. IDOLS TO YOUR STATIONS. ALERT. ALERT.
River pushed back his chair. "Oh my gosh. Uhhhh. I've gotta go."
And he booked it.
Masha sat for a second, looking around. No one was watching.
She ran.
Right to the emergency stairs. They were packed body-to-body, everyone trying to get to the floor near their level and get off. The further down she got, the less people followed, until it was Masha alone hurdling railings.
The prison door would normally be impossible to get through, if Iris hadn't rigorously disabled every inch of code around the building, stripping the wires bare to she could twist it to her liking.
Masha opened the door. Stale air hit her. She turned and ran, layout burned in her mind from the maps she poured over. Left, right. There.
To some, Pyre was the scum of the earth. A Fiend so widely dispised no one remembered what she even did.
But Vee was also Masha's best friend. And Pluto's sister.
She jumped up when Masha ran to her cell and whipped Fog's keycard out of her belt. "That was fast." Vee deadpanned, smiling wide as the door swung open.
Masha shushed her, beconcing to the corner. She passed her backpack full of civilian clothes to Vee.
The other girl changed while Masha kept watch, worrying at her lip. It had all gone off without a hitch, so could something happen now?
Vee tapped her on the shoulder. Masha led the way out, more slowly now, weary eyes scanning the shadows.
When they reached the stairs, a few stragglers were still running out. The girls joined them, sprinting upwards to get out at level 9.
When the smoggy, gasoline-scented air hit them, Masha let out a breath of relief. "Holy crap, remind me to never volunteer for this again."
my grandmother always told me to look for the birds in the trees to seek the flowery meadows and the gentle dew-dappled leaves
my grandmother always told me that shoes were made to wear that bikes were made for biking and jeans were made to tear
my grandmother always told me there's a world beyond our eyes with angels that dance like lovers and blessings in disguise
my grandmother always told me that dreams will lead to waking that love will lead to mourning that giving will lead to taking
my grandmother always told me to stay genuine and true she taught with a voice like honey the world, from her, to you
Time of report: 22h35 EST Presiding detective: Brandon J. Peters Perpetrator: (unknown) Cause of death: (unknown) Autopsy report: [Attached: 1 PDF] Detective notes: [See below]
This case reeks of mafia attachments. Objectively.
Clarke has been in this station three times that I can recall, and each was worse then the last. Possession of illegal substances. Armed robbery. First degree murder. Not convicted for a single one. Represented by the same lawyer, now in jail for mob affiliations.
The autopsy report shows a punctured lung. The most likely cause of death, if not for the complete lack of blood congelation around the wound. If the cut wasn't inflicted after death then the weapon would have been coated with Thorax venom- nigh impossible to get even on the black market after the XX34 Interspecies Peace act.
The three suspects are Mr. Clarke's friend Joseph (owner of a downtown bar- I'm sure anyone reading this is familiar), Timothe Richards (recently arrested member of a rival gang), and Bennet's ex (Julia Simons, frequenter of a less-then-legal nightclub).
The body was found at Walton crossing, near the bar all three and Clarke were at earlier. It had the afformentioned stab wound, three broken ribs, and heavy blood alcohol content. I was put on this case for no other reason other that we're atrociously short-staffed. I knew Bennet. We knew each other in high school, not really close anymore, but sentiment remains. The Chief wouldn't like it. He's strict about bias. I won't say anything untrue, though. I have a sense of honor.
Joseph was at the the bar because he runs it, and he was serving- would be an alibi, except he took his smoke break 10 minutes before Clarke dissapeared. I don't think it's him. His hands are about as clean as it gets, besides a few speeding tickets. He turns is any suspects we've put out for. He cuts drunks off. He donates to the local AA.
Richards is much more likely. He's a big Araneae, a bruiser who sold moonshine mixed with his web. Prone to poisoning, what we got him for the same night Clarke died. The higher ups believe he got his orders at the bar, but there would have been plenty of time to kill Clarke on the way to his next job, if he was so inclined. I haven't brought him in for questioning. I haven't been able to higher a bodyguard.
Richards had a motive, too. Clarke's girlfriend was his wife.
That wife also made Simons suspect. She doesn't seem the jealous type, but. She was preforming at the bar as a singer. When arrested, she was in possession of pepper spray and a pocket knife. No one can confirm where she was. Her gig ended an hour before the murder.
Her interview was interesting. I have an audio file, I'll attach it. She says she didn't know anything about what happened. She got a drink and a cab home. She does say she knew about his new date- she and Clarke are still friends, they keep in touch. That must be nice.
The security footage isn't much help either. Two black figures. An alleyway. The one positions himself between the camera and Bennet, and the victim slumps to the ground. Pretty clean cut. Unfortunate for the police.
The rival gang Richards was apart of was somewhat active in the area (I already said they killed someone that night), and no one in their group had a real high view of Thoraxes. The specism in this city is a huge problem. Even people of the same species- I said Ben and I went to school together, right? The only one who spoke my first language was Ben, and he wouldn't talk to me. We weren't friends, even after I learned English.
It was nice to clear the air the last time I saw him. It was at Joseph's bar (I know this seems bad, Chief, but I swear I didn't see nothing or I would put it in) and we sat for a little and chatted. We were in different cliques. He was a football player, real smart. Crazy how bad his life must've gotten to be where he was when he died. I fell in with a worse crew. A couple of nasty guys. It was hard to get out with them. Real clingy lot. They were up and on me for a while. They only just left me alone, and I had to pull something crazy-
Everyone expected both of us to turn to crime. I guess we did, in different ways.
But we put that behind us. And now Bennet Clarke is dead with his own species venom.
Mafia indeed.
