Faline
Wednesday, 8:42 am
Yawning and fresh from my shower, I'm already deep into my co-op short story with Nicolaus. About a female adventurer seeking out a rogue's help in acquiring a rare magical artifact, she's currently in a tavern going over plans when a male sits down next to her. I can't help but smile as my tag name is used; 'Lady Marion', a mysterious woman who dares converse and deal with Vampires.
This is where I'd first met Nicolaus; in role-plays much like this, where he himself remained elusive to most who approached. I'd heard he mingled with some of the 'elite' female populace, which isn't much of a surprise considering his level of charm and how he 'speaks', so imagine my surprise when he seemed to seek me out directly. Granted it did cause some friction with some other writers, and those made for some epic fighting scenes before they stopped getting on altogether. Talk about rage-quitting.
"Faline! Where's my charcoal pencil?"
I look up from the monitor, rolling the chair to the entrance of the hallway.
"It's in the blue drawer, in the bathroom," I yell to her.
I watch as she goes from her room to the bathroom, mumbling about my moving her art stuff around the house. A smirk plays over my lips. I do it just to get a rise out of her. Her left arm is still wrapped up, if not a little loose.
She then comes out and goes to one of the bookshelves and picks out a book, looks into it, then puts it back and heads back to her room. That section is made up of 'reference material' when actually it's several books on different animals. Shrugging, I roll back to the desk. Nicolaus has replied.
After those writers had quit, others seemed to take up their mantle of course, but he had stayed close, seeming to really enjoy our work together. There was a rumor that had gone around for a time that the girls were actually missing in real life, but I seriously doubt that. More like they just changed accounts to get away from embarrassment or something. An instant message pops up before I can type anything else. It's from Nicolaus.
"I want to see you today."
"We've been through this Nicolaus, I can't."
"Bring your sister along, I'll bring a friend as well and we'll meet at a park."
I blink at the screen. Bring my sister? He's never invited her before. Sure, I've thought about dragging her along, but I never get around to asking about it. Procrastination at its best. Although, it may have merit.
"I'll ask her. What park?"
"The one out by the Harlem high school."
"Alright, I'll ask her, but I can't guarantee anything."
"Ask her now."
Sighing, I get up from my seat and head to my sister's room. The high school isn't that far from here, but still a few minute drive. I find her sitting on her bed, hunched over, and drawing.
"Hey, wanna go meet some new people at the park later?"
I watch as she sets down her sketch pad. What looks to be a wolf chimera-looking thing is sketched and some of the finer detail half done, the charcoal had been used to do part of it. I glance back to her face, eyebrows raised as she looks at me.
"Who?"
"Nicolaus, at the park."
"Not especially."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to."
"What if I go?"
"You're not going alone."
"Then come with me."
"No."
"Fine."
I ball my hands into fists. I knew she wouldn't go for it. I turn and go back to the computer. This is ridiculous, it's only one meeting and she would be there, so why couldn't we go? I sit down heavily on the swivel chair, my fingers fast on the keyboard in my anger.
"She said no Nicolaus, I told you she would."
"Did she give you a reason?"
"No."
"I bet I could change her mind. She never lets you do anything. Let me talk to her."
"She said no Nicolaus, I'm not about to make her mad at me."
Seething, I log out and shut off the computer. Crossing my arms, I lean back in the chair. Why won't she let me go? It isn't like I'm underage anymore.
I go to my room, slamming the door. The book on my bed gets tossed to the dresser, knocking off the small dark fairy clock that resides on top of it. Sighing, I go over to pick it back up, placing it carefully back where it was. The clock itself reads 10:02 am.
Going back to my bed, I plop down on it and gaze from wall to wall with all the pictures and posters staring down at me.
Boredom.
The various short stories I've been writing aren't finished yet, but I don't feel like working on them right now. I get up and head to the full-length mirror that I had Kierra attach to the wall. I had put my hair in a ponytail when I was on the computer, but right now, I don't like it, so it gets pulled out and my reddish-blond hair falls around my head to just below my shoulders.
My hair is thin, straight, and always getting tangled. I hate it. Leaning closer to my reflection reveals that I need to redo my eyebrows again, I don't like them thick, and the arch needs to be fixed. My hazel eyes look dark today, but that's probably due to my mood.
"This sucks."
Mumbling to myself, I walk out of my room and into my sister's. When I get there, I find her messing with the bandage over her shoulder. She has always healed pretty fast, but it should still be pretty raw, only forming that soft scab layer that always looks so gross.
"Quit messing with it."
She jumps as I reprimand her, green eyes flashing as she glares at me, but she stops picking at it. Her drawing is finished, well, as finished as she gets them. She doesn't care to color them when on paper; I guess she's scared of ruining them or something.
Climbing onto the bed, I crouch down on her left side so I can fix what she messed up.
"You know if you mess with it, you'll scar, so why do you do it?"
"It itches, I can't help it. And the scabs are pulling on the skin, it's annoying."
We go through this every time she's injured, I can't count all the scars she has from messing with them before they've healed. She's a bit of a masochist, I think.
"Can you take this thing off me before I rip it off?"
Kierra sounds aggravated and exasperated. Her eyes looking at me with an almost plea. I should let her suffer, but I get started at unwrapping it.
It doesn't take long, she has it so loose and the cloth pad underneath comes away wet with blood and that clear liquid that always accompanies wounds. The holes are lightly scabbed; a couple of the openings seeping blood from her messing with it.
"Now see what you did? You opened the wounds."
She heals quickly, but not that fast. Pushing the thought aside, I sigh and retrieve the alcohol and liquid bandage to put over the smaller wounds. It might not do any better though since I've seen her peel that stuff right off with no problem. When I come back into the room, she's messing with it again.
"Stop!"
She jumps again and glares daggers at me.
"You know, it's a wonder I never have more injuries with you sneaking up on me all the time."
Smiling sweetly, I get to work.
***
Kierra
11:14 am
"Ow! Can you be any gentler? That's a sensitive area, you know."
Faline just ignores me while I rant on. It doesn't hurt that bad, only a twinge here and there really, but if I don't remind her she can get carried away, putting on too much of the liquid stuff that burns like hellfire.
Since she had asked about going to meet this Nicolaus, I've been trying to come up with a way to soften my 'no', knowing that I'm not being fair to her. Feeling guilty over my over-protectiveness, I had come up with several ideas, but none of them seemed to say "I'm sorry" enough.
Then a new idea popped into my head. There's a new store opening up at the mall, not sure what kind of store, but it's something worth trying out. We only live a couple miles away, we could go for a walk. I just have to remember to bring my wallet; it might be a really good store.
She's just about finished taping me up. Perfect.
"Hey."
"Yep?"
"Wanna go for a walk with me?"
"Where to?"
"Well, around mostly, but I figure we could stop over at the mall and see what new store they got over there."
She glances up at me, eyebrow furrowed.
"You mean Machesney Mall?"
"Yeah."
"They don't have any new stores, just J.P. Lenny and Spergmen's that are at the ends of the strip. And we've already been in them."
"I'm not talking about them. They're opening a new store right in the middle."
"Oh? Since when?"
"Not sure really, Tristan told me about it."
"Oh."
She doesn't look convinced, eyebrows raised and all. But I keep on, not wanting her to say no. I smile at her, all innocent-like. Riiight. She isn't fooled.
"What are you up to?"
"Nothin', just figured you'd want to get out of the house for a while."
She's silent for a moment, looking over the gauze mess she created before looking up at me.
"Sure."
I smile, she rolls her eyes. Moving my arm around, the skin is tight but bearable. I guess. It still hurts a bit, but not as much as I thought it would. The wrapping is done up much thinner than the first time, it being just a single patch. She gets up to put the alcohol, gauze packages, and the little bottle of Liquid Skin away. I tell her to get ready to leave.
Getting up myself, I go to my closet and rummage around for a pair of jeans. Blue or black T-shirt? Hmm, I grab the black. Can never go wrong with black.
After putting on my socks and knee-high leather boots, I head to the bathroom to brush my hair. My hair is a mixture of colors. You ask one person what color it is and they'll tell you red, where if you ask another, they will say auburn or copper. It just depends on the way the light hits it.
Looking at my reflection, you can't really tell my age, and I certainly don't look like I'm twenty-five, soon to be twenty-six. Piercings help with that a little bit I think, ears done all the way up as they are and the metal barbell in my mouth. Used to have my lower lip and eyebrow done too, but decided to take them out.
After brushing till it shines, I put on some black eyeliner. Girly, yes, but eh, it really makes my green eyes glow. Finished, my tongue ring flicks against my teeth in habit before I go into the living room for my wallet, cell phone, and keys. I don't believe in purses. Give me a wallet and good pockets any day.
Faline is lounging on the couch waiting, legs hanging over the arm, wearing a light blue tank top and faded blue jeans. A short jean jacket is draped over her and gray ankle boots make her a little taller than the barely five-foot I know her to be. Her eyes are done up as well.
"You ready?"
***
Kierra
She gets up in answer, walking to the door. Tigger beats her there, meowing up at her and rubbing against her legs.
"Later Tiggs."
She walks out without giving him a pat. How rude.
I swoop him up and give him a hug, rubbing one of his ears. He purrs for me, letting me know that he's comfy. Setting him down and heading out the door, my sibling's waiting on the porch for me, her arms crossed and leaning against the railing.
"You spoil that cat, you know that?"
I smile and lock the door, trying to ignore her bad attitude. I know it stems from me saying she couldn't go meet her friend but I can't help if I don't trust some dude I don't know. We all have our shortcomings, trust is mine.
Of course, now is when I regret the black shirt as I look down and notice that Tigger is shedding again. Frowning a bit, I start pulling off white hair as I step off the porch. After years of having him, you'd think I'd have learned by now that having a cat with white fur doesn't go well with dark fabrics.
We head out past my old jeep wrangler and into the woods. First I take her to the spot where I was bitten. There isn't even any blood to show that it had happened. She questions that, and I tell her my shirt and coat had probably soaked up most of it. The windbreaker that had been left yet now gone to who knows what critters nest.
We sit and talk for a while, then get going again, this time heading towards the mall. We have to go by a couple houses first. Although I think calling them 'houses' is kind of pushing it a bit, since no one lives in them and they've been abandoned since before we moved in.
One of them, a one-story ranch much like ours, is burnt out, only the small garage survived. The building next to it was more like a large shed, not a house. My bad. We've never really checked it out before, seeing as how I figured someone would have come by to look at it by now. No one has though.
I walk towards the garage, the sliding door not quite shut all the way, leaving about a two and a half foot gap at the bottom.
"Hey, Faline, help me out here."
"What are you doing?"
"I want to lift it up, see if anything's inside."
"Are you crazy? What if it falls?"
"The fire didn't get this far, it's perfectly fine. Now come on, help me out."
She grumbles but helps me lift it. The dirt driveway is covered in small plants and weeds, but nothing too big to get in the way. With me on one side, and her on the other, we lift it the rest of the way up. My one-armed lifting abilities are not the greatest.
It's all about leverage boys and girls.
It's a bit rusted, but not too bad. When it's all the way up, we step back. It's dark inside, but after a few moments, our eyes adjust to the interior.
Inside are what looks to be tables against the walls, everything covered in dust. The ground inside is concrete, of course, while the tables are metal, painted some dark color. I can tell they're painted due to some chipped and peeling places. Some tools and yard management items hang on the walls, a few shelves. There are boxes on the floor, their bottoms water damaged.
"What do you think are in the boxes?"
I ask her, but she's looking intently at one of the back corners. I follow her gaze and see a rather large dog house, shaped like a small house and everything. I frown, hoping the dog wasn't in the fire.
"Do you think the dog survived?"
She asks, but I have no real answer. Then I get a thought.
"What if it belongs to the dog that bit me? That would explain where he came from."
But not why he didn't have a collar, but I don't mention that. I walk in, heading towards some boxes on the right side. Faline looks around for a light switch, or, I think that's what she's doing, looking around the walls the way she's doing.
The boxes are folded shut, not taped. Good. I open the closest one to find clothes. What looks to be men's shirts. There's no writing on the box; no name, nothing. I move onto the next box.
"I don't see a light switch, nor a light bulb, how did they see in... Oh, wait, what's this?"
She clicks something, and several tube-like light bulbs turn on all along the ceiling. I blink rapidly, my eyes squinting against the bright light. You could see pretty fine before, but now it's brighter in here than outside, fewer shadows.
Faline begins to walk beside the tables, lightly touching the items on them. I open another box, and like before, this one is folded shut, no writing. More clothes, this time it looks like pants, mostly jeans.
"Hey, check this out."
I move over to where she's standing in front of a very dusty long table, rummaging in a plastic crate. Pulling items from it, she hands me an old picture. It's about six by five just by the frame. The picture inside looked like it was much bigger at one time.
A man and woman are featured. The woman looking at him with a smile, her hand reaching out towards him. He looks like he's concentrating on something off to the side.
Her hair is a light blond and looks long, her eyes an icy glacier blue. Wearing a small green sundress decorated with ribbons, her skin shows sun-kissed. From what I can tell about him, his hair is black and goes to below his shoulders, eyes look green from the angle the picture was taken. He's tall, probably around six-feet or more, where the woman looks to be around my height, maybe an inch or so taller. His shoulders are wide, and he looks well built. Can't really tell by his clothing.
A baggy T-shirt and faded, ripped jeans. His face is rugged, tanned, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. He looks kind of sad to me. Very handsome, but sad.
The next item handed to me is a wood carving. It looks weird till I have it turned the right way. It looks to be a symbol of protection, I think. I'm not caught up on Wiccan or Pagan symbols. On the bottom, it's dated; made twenty-six years ago.
"I wonder why they didn't take their stuff?" She asks me.
"Maybe they didn't want it. It happens. Grief does weird things to a person."
She pulls out more wood carvings. One's a type of bird in flight, the detail precise and fine. The next a bear with a small cub. I can't tell what type of wood was used, but the patterns of the wood add to what's carved. The spirals and dips add texture and dimension to the bear and her young.
Faline pulls out a few more, but the one that really catches my eye is the wolf. The lighter whirls of the medium add definition to its fur. The wolf is standing with his muzzle raised as if caught in a howl, his song captured forever in wood.
It's beautiful. The date on the bottom of this one was dated twenty-seven years ago. There's some smoke damage on this one, almost as if it were colored in smoke. I set it aside and move to more boxes.
My sister and I spend hours in the garage going through things. Several tubs and more boxes hidden along shelves. I'm setting books back in a box when I glance at my phone clock. 5:16 pm.
"Uh Faline, we need to get going if we're gonna make it to the store. It probably closes at six, which means we only have half an hour to get there and take a look."
"What time is it?"
I glance again.
"5:17."
"Damn."
She stuffs the items back in the box she had opened. We have most of the boxes on the tables. Just looking in here, it didn't look like that many, but we found there were lots more.
Faline had gotten over her grumpiness after the first few boxes, then she got too nosy, er, curious, to be upset. Thank God. My arm is twitching a little from all the lifting, I rotate it and my neck. The arm then begins throbbing, traveling up my neck and to my back, the muscles pulling and having spaz attacks. I push on and ignore it.
She turns off the lights, it gets real dark, real quick. We walk out and shut the garage door, leaving about a three-foot gap. Outside, I look up at the sky, the colors of purple and dusty pink are clamoring against the clouds.
Inhaling deeply, I smell that it'll probably rain later. We take off at a fast pace, not running exactly, but a very fast walk. Maybe a jog for Faline with her short legs.
I'm just rounding a tree when I see him. The wolf-dog. His mouth is opened, tongue lolling out. He looks up at me and my sister, who's a couple of feet off to my side.
Black fur shines in the fading light, eyes gleaming at us as an ear twitches back. Looking from her to me, he barks at me, startling her and I both, but then he turns and runs away.
Blowing out the breath I didn't realize I was holding, I turn to my sister. She looks at me, an eyebrow raised.
"Was that the dog that bit you?"
I nod, my hand going to my shoulder. It had stopped throbbing, it was now more like a dull ache, still jumpy though.
"He's beautiful."
I nod again and start walking, we're almost there.