ooc. Tessera 2nd, 81381. Set at the Thujgthyysaj't Jumda. ic. BANG. The electric lights above fell away from him. It was his third hour, and he was no longer feeling the recoil traveling from his hand up to his shoulder. Dylan held the handgun as any trained marksman would, his arms extended, both hands coiled ‘round the orange and gray gun. He heard somewhere in that near-tenantless room an answering gunshot. He looked like a thief newly loosed in that range, plugs in his ears, eyes bright and hot, trained on the target, loosely jacketed against the air-conditioning and with ten-thousand worlds for his choosing. He shook out his scarred shoulder, now aching slightly, and put in a new cartridge. Dyl gazed on at the target, shot again, and looked up at the white popcorn ceiling that loomed above him.
Vythe emptied another round into the targets. He'd borrowed one of the Jumda's guns even though his “twins" lay holstered at his sides. It was a sub-par handgun. Even its alignment was off. That in itself bugged Vythe. The guns were supposed to be pristine. Well taken care of. Immaculate. For a shooting range, this was unacceptable. He suspected that the new clerk who had rented it to him had given him a shitty gun on purpose. Grudges weren't at all uncommon. Once he'd learnt the gun's particular kinks, he'd been able to compensate for the misalignment. Still it was an annoyance. At least the range itself was well maintained. It was getting to be quite late, and since it was during the paquite, it was pretty well deserted. He could only make out the loud gun shots of one other pendragon on the range. He'd been learning the ins and outs of this particular gun model for a while now, but was beginning to see it as fruitless. It was junk. Giving up, Vythe clicked the safety on the gun then slid from his stall. Automatically the occupied indicator flashed off. He was in the right sort of mind to shove the handgun up in the clerk's face. However, first his curiosity had to be satisfied. He wanted to know who was shooting in the furthest stall. He brushed at his black and grey pin striped shirt. That was another thing he didn't like much about more primitive weaponry. There was always, without fail, some sort of blow back debris. He was quite casually dressed, considering that he had the day off. The clothes themselves were nothing special. He just didn't like getting dirty, even if the dirt was minuscule and invisible to the naked eye. He knew it was there. Vythe strode down the hall until he reached the last, and eighth stall. Once there, he situated himself several feet behind the arden's back and leaned lightly against the wall. He knew this arden of course. Dylan, or whatever he was calling himself now. He looked past Dylan at the targets. Every last one of them had been murdered. That was some good shooting.
<blockquote> Dylan could feel the other’s gaze on his back. He recognized the other arden – his name was Vythe, wasn’t it? – and he put down his gun, surveying the white and red male. A sad smile blossomed on his lips, where it died like a struggling flower finding solace in winter’s barren landscape, free from the greed of its merciless summertime competitors. Bursting bravely through the snow, expecting July and finding December, it stands for a day or so – proud and bright against a desolate backdrop of last year’s generation. Day by day its resolve weakens, until nothing but a skeleton stands where a soul used to live, not even its colors. A metaphor along those lines, visually represented across 100 LCD widescreen televisions with a price tag to seriously wound a seven figure salary might begin to do his smile justice. "Vythe…" he said, quietly. "Long time, no see." </blockquote>
Vythe smiled faintly when the other arden sensed him and turned around. He removed the earplugs he'd been wearing and stashed them away in a pant pocket. He'd half been wanting to run into Stormwing here. He had some unfinished business with her. Of course, the Thujgthyysaj't Jumda was hardly the place for a confrontation of that magnitude. Instead he had run into an old acquaintance. Vythe couldn't exactly called Arsenic a friend... but they were playing for the same team. Still, that sad smile gave Vythe a reason to move ahead slowly. “Certainly has been. Arsenic, right? You got a minute? I've been hearing a lot about you lately from Ms. Grader'ba. Unless you're busy of course. I can leave you be."
ooc. Yay! You get my 600th post. :D ic. This had to be what his father must have felt like when he was born, he thought, shifting his hand up from chin to forehead, kneading one temple as if it would help alleviate the chronic headaches he'd suffered. Addicted like that. Actually needing something to alleviate symptoms – not just pretending, like the more extreme Valentine’s Cards whose designers dared mention addiction in public. He shot an uncertain look over at Vythe – unsure whether it was to make sure the other arden was still there, or something else. Because it felt like a dormant gene had been triggered, sending messages to his brain that he recognized as fundamental aspects of someone he had known so well. Someone who was two horns short of being a monster. Oh, daddy, if only you were here now. "Has she, really? I don't mind at all. We can talk right here." He pulled out his earplugs and smiled softly.
“Sure. If you don't mind ol' Remus watching and listening in." Vythe looked up at one one of the many cameras the littered the small shooting range. He'd have to watch what came out of his mouth. Remus was the local “always on-duty" officer. Vythe didn't understand just how he could spend his time holed up in his office all day watching cameras. To Vythe it seemed like such a boring job... of course, someone had to do it, and Remus wasn't exactly fit for active duty on the streets anymore. “The clerk at the front gave me a lemon of a gun." As he said this, Vythe held the gun up in front of the camera loosely by its barrel. His face held an expression of mock fury as he shook the gun in order to further incriminate it. Forgetting Remus and the camera, Vythe turned back to Arsenic. “The quality of this place sure has deteriorated... actually, I'm pretty surprised to see you here. Ajita's always had much better recreational establishments."
<blockquote>"I'm fine with him listeniniiiing," he echoed, stressing the vowels to show that he had reached a Buddhist-like peak of understanding. "Ah... yeah, that looks like a sucky gun." He nodded to Vythe's latter comment. "Yeah, but I was in town for a fashion show, and decided to pop in here." WAIT HE'S KOANI'S GUARD. Dyl's face shifted into a "@_____@" expression. It wasnÂ’t uncommon for Acer to find himself at a loss for words, but the more Vythe looked at him the more DylanÂ’s insecurities fell away. He had the urge to scream "HOW IS 'ANI", and he imagined how Remus must have seen him, jittery and scared like an arctic hare when the snowÂ’s gone. "Eh... what did 'Ani say about me?"</blockquote>
There was something a little unnatural about the way Vythe was acting. Remus listening in was one of the problems he supposed. Vythe knew him to be an upstanding citizen... but he certainly liked to spread his gossip around. It made him uncomfortable. The other thing that somewhat unnerved him was the fact that Arsenic had called Koani, Ani. “Fashion show... must have been fun." Of course, Vythe had never been to a fashion show of any type. At least, not one that he could recall. Koani did have a habit of dragging him to all sorts of strange places though. “I had the day off myself," he said offhandedly, not quite understanding the reason for Arsenic's strange expressions. “My subordinates 'Bel and Codat are taking care of business. I haven't gotten any calls yet, so I'm assuming things are good for the time being. As for Ms. Grader'ba... well, I believe she's just happy that the two of you have gotten back in touch."
<blockquote>"It was," he said in a sickeningly polite manner, straightening his shirt and squaring his shoulders in a manner any of his son's friends would dismiss him from their age group for ever attempting. "It's awful... stuffy in here. Would you like to take a walk outside?" Vythe met eyes whose pale, anxious irises occasionally flickered with years of unexpressed agony. His clothes were clean. His hair was washed, make-up carefully removed, shoes polished and corporate smile in place. Dyl pushed his gun into its holster, and then into the bag slung over one shoulder, as he was no longer planning on using it. "I've heard of the two of them. 'Ani mentions how cool Codat is sometimes, hehe. But... I'm really glad to be back with her, too."</blockquote>
“Yes, sure is. Can't say I've ever been entirely fond of the smell of gunpower either." It was only a slight lie. He didn't find the shooting range stuffy at all, and got the feeling that Arsenic really didn't either. However, the further they were from Remus' eyes and ears, the better. Specially if Koani were to be a topic of conversation. “Just let me get rid of this piece," he said as he indicated the borrowed gun with his hard blue eyes. Vythe turned away from Arsenic and walked back down the range's hall of stalls. As Vythe walked past the stall he'd been at, he picked up the black suede jacket that he had left hanging there. After he'd dealt with the gun... and none too subtly given a piece of his mind to the clerk, Vythe was quite ready to get out of there. Arsenic had already caught up to him, and by the looks of it was also ready to go. “Codat... yeah. She would like him. He's green though. Probably always will be with that attitude." Vythe's tone wasn't exactly disapproving nor was it very amiable. He liked Codat well enough but he still had a long way to come. “She's safe with 'Bel. Codat is another story."
<blockquote>Dylan's mind was a tangled mess, and it hurt. Those disjointed thoughts cursed with rational parentage were seized by the monster he nursed with his soul, torn up and played backwards until all it became a shrill, terrifying wail. This was the way he perceived the world – unrelated sounds and the miscreations that uttered them, blurred and shapeless like the ghastly product of preschoolers and face paint. There was no thought process, no first step so there could never be a last. Somewhere, nestled comfortably amidst the chaos, was the only voice that spoke his language. It was small and timid, loosely acquainted with his conscience but not bound by blood, and it whispered comfort into his ear. It spread its arms around him when he went to sleep, strong and comforting, and as long as it remained there he would cope for another day. Koani's voice told him to be nice to Vythe. He grabbed his carcoat and slipped it on as they walked out onto the street. "How is 'Ani'ni? I haven't seen her this week."</blockquote>
Almost simultaneous to Arsenic, Vythe slipped on his own coat as they left the shooting range. While Watani didn't have nearly a quarter of the chill that Ajita did, it certainly knew its seasons and was quick to change when it sensed the approach of autumn. Soon things would begin to deaden and crackle underfoot. The notes of affection in Dylan's voice, that added suffix of endearment – none of it went unnoticed by Vythe. While he felt that Koani deserved affection, and friends, it irritated him to no end that the two of them couldn't be on more “friendlier" terms. She snapped at him for simply using her first name. To say her pet name with an affectionate add-on? It would be pretty much the equivalent of suicide for him. “She's good. Busy of course." Vythe was the only one aside from Koani herself who had access to her schedule. He always knew where she was and what she was doing... regardless of the time. Which was the main reason why he was haunting Watani at the moment. At least she trusted him. “So, the two of you went to school together?"
<blockquote>"Yeah," he said, his voice as hollow as the winds that shifted around them. When he'd thought 'Ani had died, Dylan had cried. Screamed. Fought. Wrote. Bled. And bled. And bled. But he had never talked. Never had he talked about it properly, not about how he was feeling, or what he was thinking. Perhaps he would murmur that he was hurting, or that he couldn't go on, or that it wasn't fair and he missed his best friend. But he had never, not once, talked about it. "I thought she had died, once. I died, too, when I thought she had. It just hurt so bad... I met her when I was fourteen - Ani'ni and I were best friends... we still are."</blockquote>
“I was with her parents during all of that," Vythe said rather tonelessly. “I thought she was dead as well... but Zamfir'ba didn't. I thought that at first he was just in denial. However, those two always seemed to know things." There were a lot of things that the Graders had known. Sometimes Vythe wondered just how many things had died along with them. “I met her when I was a just a silly nioti with crazy ambitions. My parents worked for hers, so our paths crossed every now and then. Can't say we've ever actually been friends though."
<blockquote>You canÂ’t exist without leaving a piece of yourself behind. There are concrete paths, like credit card receipts and appointment calendars and promises youÂ’ve made to others. There are microscopic clues, like fingerprints, that stay invisible unless you know how to look for them. Dylan had left his own traces on KoaniÂ’s life, and in turn on VytheÂ’s, like the scars that were etched crookedly on his torso, like the twin strips of flesh ripped from his thumb the first time heÂ’d fired a gun. Like the memories in the very back of his head he chose not to think about. "Ah..." Dyl said quietly. "I met the former Graders only a few times. They left quite the impression on me. Koani, though... she has quite the mind. I'm surprised you're not friends with her, though."</blockquote>
Vythe's walking pace was casual – or at least as casual as he could make it. Even when he was going nowhere in particular, it always appeared as if he had a destination in mind. Some sort of goal. “I really liked Zamfir'ba. He was a mentor to me and probably the best friend I've ever had." Vythe's words surprised even himself. While he commonly spoke about Zamfir, speaking about his relationship with him was quite the rarity. “Not sure if you ever had any dealings with this other arden I used to work with. Really skinny, powder blue guy. He always seemed a little nervous. Fidgety. He went by the name Riff. Anyway... that was one of Zamfir's shifted forms. We used to do missions together from time to time." A glimmer of a smile was on Vythe's face. Those had certainly been the days. “Now, Ms. Grader'ba... I'm not even sure where to start with her. Our relationship is complicated, to say the least. We work well together... and I have to agree with you, she does have quite the mind. I guess I'm just not entirely content with the decisions that she makes sometimes."
<blockquote> Was this what life was supposed to feel like? Time slipping through your hands like fine-grained sand and the bitter taste of regret stinging on your tongue, your eyes squeezed shut against the burning light and hoping by the gods that you'd live to see all your dreams come true? Even if your gods were long dead? Dylan walked in somewhat the same manner that Vythe did - he looked as though he had a destination, a purpose, even though he didn't at the moment. He carried himself with the grace and poise of a king, his shoulders thrust back and his chin high. "Oh." Dyl murmured, at the mention of the pale blue arden. "I remember him. I'm sorry that you lost him - I didn't know you two were friends." When the conversation turned to Koani, his gaze slowly flickered to the two-toned male. "Like what decisions?" he asked, chuckling quietly.</blockquote>
Vythe shrugged his finely set shoulders and let Arsenic's condolences slip off. The loss of Zamfir had been a great one. Not just for Vythe, but for the entirety of Ramath-lehi as far as he was concerned. It was unfortunate that he hadn't been able to rebound after the death of his wife, Karryasa. Zamfir's love for her had been so great. His murder had been done out of mercy... with compassion. To end his suffering. Koani committing patricide and Vythe acting the part of her willing accomplice. “Hm. She's got courage," Vythe said as he let his quiet eyes sweep along the horizon. “I don't think it was right of her to break up the Council of Twelve... nor fully give up her rightful position of Arch Magosai. This Council of Thirteen feels like a joke to me. Not to mention the anonymity that one of the council persons has with their veto power. A few of my colleagues share the same sentiments."
<BLOCKQUOTE>If he was going to have to choose between fatal abstinence from food and water and a few days spent happy before the infamous Laizere trait took hold of his mind completely, then he’d choose this. He liked strangers best. Not that he’d done this much before – he just knew there couldn’t be anything better to have next to you when you’re good as dead than someone you don’t know. Someone to offer you awkward sympathy, someone who doesn’t understand you and won’t quite dance to your beat just there. Someone who’s there because they want to be, not because a couple of frayed, ugly threads has them attached. At least, not yet. "That she does. I'm not sure how I stand politicially. My son, Requiem, was part of a few anti-Grader non-violent protests when he was in his early teens... I think his mind has changed, though, now that he's with Cayson." A slow smile settled over his features, and he laughed quietly.</blockquote>
Vythe let out a small laugh. It was a short and bitter sounding thing. He'd had his fair share of dealings with almost all of the various anti-Grader movements and protests. Some were peaceful and understanding... others, diabolical, manipulative and bloodthirsty. The dates of Karryasa and Zamfir's deaths had even become major days of celebration to some of the groups. Creeps. “I've never really known what to make of Cayson," Vythe said at last. He had quite a lot of resentment for the boy. Although, that had stemmed largely from Cayson's decision to date and entertain the idea of actually marrying Stormwing. “Sometimes I think he only went out with Stormwing in order to purposely hurt Ms. Grader'ba. I mean, why else would one go out with someone who caused physical harm to your family? Your mother, of all people? It's ridiculous. At least I can say I'm glad that's over."
