Dead is the New Alive [Odolina]

[Fedafyr]

For Your Consideration
.It was the wicked and wild wind
Pawns: Fedafyr & Odolina Benjamine-Elmore
.Blew down the doors to let me in
Status: Private, Active
.Shattered windows and the sound of drums
Current Count: 2,355
.People couldn't believe what I'd become
Time: Now
.Revolutionaries wait for my head on a silver plate.
Style: Braided
.Just a puppet on a lonely string,
.Oh, who would ever want to be king?

Dead is the new alive... Despair's the new survival, a pointless point of view. Give in, give in, give in, give in! You play the game; you'll never win.

Fedafyr's eyes were a flicker, his body twisted beneath the strain of his mind. The time of day had shifted, and he was once again arguing fervently with some idiot in the back of his mind, more a curse than a blessing, Petal soft, Fedafyr's fingers dragged their pads down his face, warping the porcelain a minute in distress with an invisible attacker. Always, always, always so much drama. You squeal like a pig and claim to want to do what's right. Don't talk to me of saving your soul--you sentenced it yourself! Fedafyr's lips drew back around white ivories that looked deadly sharp, his face matching the argument in his head here in the misty presence of the Marble towers. If you don't want to be here, then leave--your crusade won't dissuade me. Fedafyr's bright, hollow eyes searched the misty horizon for someone, anyone, to take his mind of the idiot that resided so firmly tucked in his head.

Boys and girls appeared and vanished, many had walked by him as he sat 200 feet in the air, foot dangling with straw sandal clicking against his heal with his irritably tapping toes. Fedafyr made a rough snarling noise at the cursed conscience he had managed to acquire while he was out tormenting. He could remember the ritual that had tucked the lost lamb hero deep in his belly, but he couldn't quite recall why he had chosen to do such a stupid thing.

Dead is the new alive: Life's only living rival, a casket built for two. Give in, give in, give in, give in! You play the game, you'll never win.

His long ears twitched and he swept the ground again with his eyes. Charcoal strands of hair fell forward, escaping the braid he had carefully put it into, the thick pieces wrapping and twisting, holding the long tendrils at the bottom with a white thong. His slender neck descended into the folds of his kimono, his haori dusted with red, remniscent of the blood he enjoyed so much. His nose twitched, air flowing in through his nostrils... Smoke, mist, tobacco, leather, tears, ... feathers. The thick scent of indecision and nervousness, hinted with femininity, graced the air, and drew the corners of those full lips to turn just ever-so-slightly upward. Don't... I know what you're going to do! Please.. Fedafyr pulled the dangling leg upward, scattering broken marble on the ground below. His tail straightened in anticipation, then coiled to balance his body.

So take me now or take me never; I won't wait. You're already late.

The heavy cloth draped over his body slipped forward, covering to the tip of his fingers. The silk of his kimono beneath it caressed his skin as the marble shuddered around him, lamenting his very presence in it. His claws brushed the few nervous strands from his face and he smiled wickedly around sharp teeth, his tail stirring the air behind him. I never have any moments to myself. Think if you cry hard enough, you can save her from shedding the tears you bear? He breathed a lust-filled sigh into the dark moonlit air. HIs foot graced the air and a rush of wind came to meet him, just enough pressure to give him footing for a second. The current continued with every step, and the demon rushed down his staircase too fast for anyone to perceive him.

He came to rest in a swirling cloud of mist, standing straight. His braid flung forward over his shoulder with the sudden stop of movement, coming to rest as a stark contrast to the overall white of his haori.

So say goodbye or say forever... Choose your fate. How else can we survive? Dead is the new alive.

[Odolina Benjamin-Elmore]

The First Square. The place they all seemed to enter the Dream World was her least favorite place. Here Baku always felt so vulnerable, always wondering if something horrible was out to happen. Of course the only danger she had ever walked into in the First Square was Jor and Don, but there was something about the place that always felt as though it was searching for more.

Attempting to shake off the feeling, Baku took a moment to try to figure out why exactly she felt this way. Why she felt the First Square was alive and this energy was searching for more ominous creatures than what were already provided for. Unfortunately, she had no answer than a mere feeling that made her so uncomfortable that she hugged herself a little tighter, her useless wings covering the front of her body completely. There was a slight pain from the thorn still embedded in her wing. A slight comfort came to her as she realized it was hurting a little less than usual lately. Perhaps because she was slowly beginning to open up in ways she hadn’t done for so long…

Somehow in her thoughts, she wondered away from the few other Forms that seemed to have appeared in the Dream World at the same time as herself. Chills ran down her spine. Something bad was about to happen, but she didn’t know what. Her suspicion was the Twins of Chaos, but somehow that seemed off. Not that Baku was the most intuitive of people, she just occasionally had feelings, and a lot of time they seemed clouded by her own demons.

She took a moment to adjust the birdlike mask on her face, hoping that the obscurity of her identity would somehow or another calm her nerves. It was a slightly irrational thought, but Baku always managed for feel more secure behind her mask than without it. And the chance of it falling off right when something bad may possibly happen, only would make her more panicky.

The wind picked up, tugging at her feathers and hair. It was chilly and somehow unnatural, which was strange since it was the Dream World. A white mist began to form in front of her. Panic started to grip at her muscles, paralysis her in fear. This wasn’t just Jor or Don or both. This was something different. She needed to run away, but she couldn’t. Baku was frozen by the unwillingness of her muscles.

[Fedafyr]

Still frightened, the bird cowered before him. She smelled strongly of her terror, and he knew he could walk circles around her and she would not move. The way her knees locked, the way her hands clung to her... how steady she was, only but shaking like a leaf in the mists, was a dead giveaway to the fact that she would not run from him. What a simple catch--like a goldfish from a garden pond. Leave her be. She's no good hunt for you... His eyes hardened a moment, the corners of his mouth slightly losing the smiling edge as he realized the truth in that statement. For a moment, her very terror might have persuaded the beast to pass her by. Her lack of resolution might have spared her, but then he realized... Ah, but you'd hate it all the more--a weak creature. Breaking someone that's already broken and pieced together with glue is so... permanent. He slipped his shoulder down on one side and tossed his head, moving that thick braid over to his back.

"Hello, there." His voice was like honey, slow and sweet. An invitation into the unknown, a boy with sharp ears and slitted eyes. His body moved with some sheer unnatural grace, as if he barely touched the earth beneath his toes. A black vest hung down to the back of his knees, his haori white with red feathers christening the shoulders, matching the red of the hakama that fell down his legs. He was closing the distance slowly, meandering his way toward her with no intent for speed. HIs tail swished slightly back and forth. His face was worked into a smile that was soft, if not a little too warm. Everything about him was comforting, but he made no direct effort to ease her suffering mind.

She looked like a canary in a cage, mute and blind. Entirely too weak to step up to defend herself against the cat at the door. His fingers started up through the air. His touch flitted across the smooth skin of her chin and cheek, his thumb dragging lightly, a lover's touch, across her lower lip. What small difference there was in their height was made up for by the uneven ground and his thick-blocked sandals. Eye to eye, he was neither dauntingly tall or comically short. The soft brush of his claws against her skin, meant to touch every nerve. Past her ear and into her hair, spanning upward toward the edge of that piece of porcelain covering her face. His touch was soft and comforting, but his fingers couldn't quite reach the edge yet to clip it free...

His feet dug into the dirt a little deeply for a moment, his eyes seeming to flash back, rolling heavenward with his irritation at something unseen. For a moment, he seemed exasperated.. almost like a child who was watching an overprotective parent pack their get-away gear. His legs had locked, just for a moment, just a little bit of a setback. The way they had stuck would have looked unnatural, but the heavy cloth of the hakama kept the struggling movement hidden. You're some.. sort.. of nuisance.

[Odolina Benjamin-Elmore]

Something was moving towards her. A boy, she realized. And even though everything in her body was screaming at her to run, she couldn’t. She couldn’t move. Baku tried hard to make her mind calm down, think rationally, think at all. But all she could fear was the instinct to run and all she could feel was the paralysis in her muscles.

Maybe a scream, she thought, as his hand rose up to touch, no caress, her. But even her throat had tightened to the point where the only sound she could make was a soft whimper. When those dangerous claws rolled gently across her face, his thumb rubbed her bottom lip, her skinned burned. Her eyes began to fill, glossed over and threatening to spill.

Baku had been here before. No. Benji had. Odolina Benjamin-Elmore had. That girl sleeping somewhere in a different universe or realm or whatever. That girl who created this girl as a shadow of herself, as a manifestation of a wound that was so deep and hidden and unhealed. They had been here before, but the situation was just slightly different.

None the less, the nightmare had come to haunt her.

As his hands moved from her face to back of her neck and through her hair, flashes of that time and place and person came to corner of her mind. NO! Baku’s thoughts screamed. No. Not now. Not now. She felt as though she was fighting against a current of dark water. She couldn’t sink now. She had to fight. She had to get her body moving again. Gain control. She had been doing so well, she couldn’t revert now. She needed to run or to wake up. She needed to.

But… nothing happened. Her situation was the same. Hopeless. The only thing she was capable of doing was stare into his eyes, trying her hardest to muster up a look of defiance. But all there was something that didn’t want to break again, but was too weak to stop it.

[Fedafyr]

Fedafyr felt her muscles twitch, frightened. He smelled her breath, heavy with hidden sobs, and he yanked his feet into gear. Another step gave him just enough space to grasp the edge of that porcelain. "I suppose lying isn't going to work on someone already so frightened." He pulled the piece away, leaving the porcelain in his fingertips. His eyes followed it at first, out of some unknown respect hidden so far away in the deepest part of his subconscious. Leave her. She's just a .... child. Some tone of sadness in those eyes, leaking a sudden blue ring around the slitted pupils as Paris put together the face with a person he would have to wake and see. For a moment of hesitation, Fedafyr looked as disarmed as he stared down at her.

Crack...

The porcelain broke in his hand, scattering its pieces onto the ground. His hand, sliced by fragments that seeped into his very veins. He reached, now with both hands, the warm wet imprint against her right cheek, pressing her face together just enough to be uncomfortable, "What a lovely face you're hiding." His voice was soft again, but almost lighter, less dangerous, "... If you can, perhaps.. you should run." Silence echoed after the words, but there was no movement from either of them. With everything inside of him, the man wanted her to escape, with everything outside of both of them... they knew she wouldn't.

".... Then, I suppose this dance is fate."

His voice, a whisper, died, and his hands released her face. dropping her from the tip of her toes where he had pulled her unwittingly. His hands slipped down and his claws bit sharply into her hips, My only mercy is... this will be... nothing like what you are thinking it will be like. Blood, warm and heavy, seeped from around the cloth he had bit through, He felt the warm wrapping of her skin around the tips of his fingers, and he dragged her in close to him. His body was hard, his chin came to rest on her shoulder, staring at that pin that sprung up out of her arm, an obvious sign of a clipped wing.

His breath blew across the curve of her neck. So close. Her hair tickled his cheek and nose, his tail arched against the back of his leg as he was tilted, a sign of acceptance and simple enjoyment in the situation.

... Damn me....