(no subject)

In the morning, Narcissa awoke early feeling much akin to meat that had been ground up, chewed, and spit out...then stepped on. His head felt hot, his ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton. Groaning, he rolled over in bed and threw a pillow over his head. He did not feel like getting up.

However, after paying for his room the night before, plus the bath, his purse had lightened considerably. Kicking some of the blankets off, discovering that he was extremely warm, Red rolled over in bed, displaying pale limbs to the nervous barmaid that had suddenly entered. She blushed prettily, and he thought it was a shame he wasn't attracted to her.

Staring obviously as she set his clothes down, the nervous woman cleared her throat and said, "It's all here, sir." Smiling charmingly, Red nodded despite the hurt in his head, "Thank you." The barmaid curtsied nervously and left the room.

Chuckling despite the pain it brought him, Red slowly stood up and went over to his freshly washed and pressed clothes, dressing. He prepared himself to go down to the main room and hopefully...pick up a customer, or maybe step into a poker game. Lord knew he needed the money.
  • Current Mood
    crappy

Post Meeting with Spider

After walking away from that lonely, desolate town, now reduced to a pile of ashes by Spider's own hand, Red made his way through the pouring rain miles to the next town. He was shaking when he arrived at an inn. Once he'd bargained with the owner to get down the price of his room, Red ordered a hot bath. Forty extra. However, he knew if he didn't get some warmth into his skin so he'd end up getting sick or worse--if he wasn't already.

Strange how much he'd learned about survival since fleeing Istrocres. Then again, survival had always been most important to him, and no matter what it took, no matter whose body he had to crawl over to do it, Red was intent on survival.

After stripping down and settling in the hot water--heated individually by workers there and then poured into the bath--Red made arrangements with the cleaning staff to have his clothes washed and dried, and delivered first thing in the morning. Once that was taken care of, the effeminate young man curled up in the small, uncomfortable inn bed, wishing fervently he had a patron--not for pleasure (though the money would be a welcome addition to his purse), but for warmth.

Shivering despite the fact that there was a fire going in the hearth, he tried to blank his mind. Instead Red's thoughts ended up circling the same path over and over again. He'd met Spider. The man he'd once, ironically enough, given information to so that he might go forth and destroy his enemies. Thus stopping that fruitless war, the very thing that Narcissa had been opposed to from the beginning. However, had the end truly justified the means? The land was awash with blood and destruction and decay. All they did was speed up what the war was already doing--killing each other off until there was no one left to fight.

Then Red was left to wonder what would become of Veronice. He knew that the political and governmental side of things was a mess. No one knew what to do. The logical action would be for the Bleachskulls to take over and initiate a reformation. However, did that truly go along with their goals? The idea was to stop the war. No one had thought further than that, at least according to Red's knowledge. So now what?

So now what...? The question echoed hauntingly in his mind until his eyelids slowly shuttered over gold-hued oculars. When he slept, he dreamt haunted, feverish dreams of a pottery shard cutting into his hand while blood gushed and ran over it, making it harder to grip. The choked screams of dying men. The blood on his hands running, dripping onto the ground, turning into a river of blood--the remaining men moaning piteously, mourning their dead families, their crushed hopes buried somewhere in the ashes of villages. Was it possible to unearth them?
  • Current Mood
    haunted

(no subject)

Ah, after quite a good while of walking, Decameron finally pulled himself past the outskirts of the city of Chibisis and slowly down one of the back streets. It took him longer than he had expected and liked, it was around dusk now, but what could be done? He had to admit, all this moving and running around was beginning to wear him a bit thin.

With a slight frown, the indigo-haired one figured it would be best to take an hour or two to rest himself, before going through the whole.. scout out group, fire 'em up, then take off again. Gah, such boring work to him.. he would much rather be out on the battlefield, but he was aware that this process was necessary.

And so, with the decision of taking a nap, Decameron continued to trudge along the pretty much deserted streets of the 'bad part' of the city. A few buildings and thing of that sort were battered and blackened with the occasional smokestain or riddled with small holes from gunfire.. but it was still alright. And it took almost no time at all for him to find a cheap hotel.

It was a run-down place, but the youth didn't really care. It was clean enough, he assumed. Plus, he was too stubborn to dish out a pretty penny for a high class room he was only going to stay in for about four hours tops. Making his way into the dingy-bricked, couple storied building infront of himself, Decameron wasted no time booking a small, cheap room and heading straight up to it.

During his journey up the creaky wooden steps, amber hues were focused down upon the now threadbare carpet encasing the aforementioned steps. The floral patterned wallpaper was also quite faded and peeling, he noticed. One of the gloved hands rose to tug the elastic band that had been holding his hair into the messy ponytail.. the band slipped around his wrist for keeping, until it was needed later.

Oh joy, there was the room. Suddenly realizing just how heavy his limbs felt, Decameron beelined for the door. Unlock, open, enter, slam. Without any further hesitation, he strode on over to the small bed, letting his gun clatter to the floor before flopping stomach-down onto the mattress, whose frame and springs seemed to take a moment to squeak and groan in protest. Puh, stupid pansy bed. As long as it didn't break, it was all good.

Heaving a small sigh against the pillow rested under his head, eyes finally shut and muscles slowly relaxed as he found himself being quickly overcome by sleep.

But, God, he hoped the bed was clean.
  • Current Mood
    worn out

Endless night

After the day's past events, Spider had taken refuge back at his camp which was just a mile's distance or so away from the freshly burned town of Sibps. His camp had consisted of his own belongings stowed away within a small, makeshift tent, and the two tents of guards which stood on either side of the said structure. When he returned both of them were sleeping---he was honestly thankful for their laziness. At least some people wouldn't be uppity at the end of the war.

He had slipped into his tent for the night then, and sat up within his sleeping back, reading over the letter from Estremoz several times before finally folding it up and slipping it back into one of his bags for safe keeping. When he had laid down to retire, he found there would be no such activities. He was in too nervous of a mood to actually do any sleeping. What was going to happen, now? He had to show his face to his people sometime---but he honestly didn't know what he wanted to have happen.

In his lack of sleep, Spider had left his tent all together out of frustration, and once again, found himself aimlessly wandering about, whichever way his tired feet would take him. Not too far, though, of course. And so, as darkness curled her dark hand across the sky, the white-haired man had found no comfort within the billions of stars over head. And yet, in his mourning, he could not see the stars. Oh, yes, he saw them---but not truly, in the sense of understanding their beauty.

Where has the starlight gone? Dark is the day. How can I find my way home... home is an empty dream, lost to the night.

Lifting that pale gaze up towards the Heavens, he stared blankly for long, sad hours, until their illuminations began to slowly fade within the gentle light of the morning sun, which very slowly but surely was gaining power as it rose higher in the sky. His tall form stood there--- in the middle of no where---against the magnificent sunrise, and he found himself breath taken by the oddly beautiful and sad sight of the silhouette of what used to be a town in front of the large, radiant sun.

It sort of looked like it was on fire. Funny, as just two days ago, it was. Spider knew his heart was truly contorted when he found the beauty in the burning of a city but not within the calm stars of last night.

  • Current Mood
    morose

(no subject)

So.. the war was over. Had been for a couple weeks, actually. He was stationed in one of the forts in Istrocres, one of the lucky ones ( Marillo, to be exact ) to have gotten the information first. He wasn't exactly sure how it came about, though.

Bah. Decameron, as he was known by his fellow Bleachskulls, didn't really care how it happened. It just happened. That was the important thing. And with no fighting, the troops had begun to recieve their checks for their service, and promptly sent on their way. Which was kind of funny, to him. Because he knew most of the men and women had nowhere to go. Alot of their families and friends were most likely dead, not to mention hometowns. Many towns and cities had been wiped off the map completely. Probably by their own hands, too.

He had recieved his own check and dismissal about a week ago, give or take a few days. Decameron was one of the first bunches to be brushed off, since he was a mere fighter. Not on the bottom rung, exactly, but expendable enough. Which was good, he supposed. Because he needed time.

Almost immediately after the slip of paper was in his hands, Decameron had left the Marillo fort ( after dishing out a few last-minute light hearted and smartass comments and goodbyes to those in his Company ) and traveled on down to the town of Purge, to scrounge up and talk to his.. 'people', you could call them. But he didn't stop there. After a mere day, if even that, in the nearly destroyed town, he had moved on to Yorke, then up to Fillis. Repeat process of hunting down the remaining 'people', informing them of the current situation, and then sending them off to spread the word to rendezvous in the nearly deserted town of Laila. Oh, what was he up to now?

Currently, the 'boy' was coming up on the town of Chibisis. Eyes narrowing faintly at the barely noticeable outline of the city a good few miles away, he gave a quiet huff of irritance and rose a gloved hand to idly toy with the simple, black leather collar wound a notch or two loose 'round his neck.

Black, black, black. That seemed to be all he wore nowadays, he noted absentmindedly. In actuality, he preffered much brighter colors.. but what can you do in a war, eh? It's not wise to prance around in neon colors. Especially during actual warfare. One of the only bits of real color on him was the shoulder-length hair.. which was currently pulled up into a short, half-assed ponytail. It had been bleached and dyed a dull purpley-grey.

But other than that. Mostly black. Which was just wonderful, considering the junky jeep-like vehicle he had been previously driving decided to be a dick and die on him.

And it's fucking hot today, too.

Mentally growling out a few more.. colorful phrases, the hand was pulled away from the collar and returned back down to his side as he trudged on a bit faster, intent on reaching the city as quickly as possible. That lily ass car wasn't gonna slow him down, dammit.
  • Current Mood
    discontent

(no subject)

Spider watched the other individual as he sifted through the mud. Jumping slightly at his startled cry and quick movements, Spider found himself on instinct reaching up for the handle of his Persuader... but then discovering it was merely an act of cowardice, pale vision had narrowed vaguely in a very slight irritance---and if he was in a better mood he may have even laughed a little.

But that was not the case. As his body, full of pinched and twisted, unsettled nerves, began to relax as best it could in a situation such as this, the white-haired man sighed softly, and simply nodded a you're welcome, farewell, and good-bye, all in one. There wasn't much else to do. Eyes focused slightly as he watched the man slowly make his way off.

  • Current Mood
    I laugh at your misfortune

(no subject)

Nodding, Red followed Spider's gaze and made his way slowly over to the area, looking in the mud--ew. He moved slowly because Spider looked like the jumpy type--ready to shoot at a branch that moved in the trees. At least the way he hung onto the gun made it seem so.

Toeing through the squishy pseudo-ground with his boot, Red waited until he hit something solid. Fishing for it with merely his thumb and index finger, he slowly pulled out the object...staring at it in open-mouthed horror when he realized what it was. With a small, startled cry, Narcissa flung it away from himself and proceeded to let out a colorful string of curses.

"Ew ew ew," he finished up, muttering to himself about how vile and disgusting that was. Finding crispy parts of something that used to be alive was not on his To-Do list. Looking furtively again through the mud, he cried triumphantly when he saw the tip of his knife handle.

Reaching for it, he grasped it daintily, hesitant to clean it off on his clothes--though they were dirty and needed washing anyway. "Um...thanks, I guess," Red said hesitantly, backing up slowly. "It was...interesting meeting you, Spider." A wry smile crossed his face as he turned, picking his way through debris to leave the town.

It'd be a miracle if he'd make it through the night.
  • Current Mood
    grossed out

(no subject)

His expression went blank again after that short, almost crazy smile which had been previously there, as the feminine man had repeated his name as if it were some sort of question, and didn't respond, until he had dared to ask for his knife back. His eyes lazily graced to the side, to the place where he had assumed the sharp object had been thrown to.

Shrugging his shoulders slightly, he casually allowed him to do so. "Go ahead. I understand."

There wasn't much else to do, now. Spider began to take steps backward, as the large weapon on his shoulder was shifted once more for the day, and it was again in the same position as it was when we first came across our tragic "hero"---sitting neatly, backwards, and upside down upon his shoulder.

He continued to watch the other male without much expression on his face. Honestly, it wasn't that he was trying to look so void, it was only that he was not used to actually showing much emotion on his face, anymore. Within these past years, while his body was still growing and his mind was still forming, it was naturally warped to do these sorts of things.

  • Current Mood
    weird

Several Weeks Before

Several Weeks Before

Within Fort Marillo, which was now located in "The Middle of Nowhere, Istrocres", as they had destroyed every city and town within the vicinity, many men and women alike were at work, busily sorting through papers, attending to several lines of off-duty soldiers, issuing them papers, checks, and the like.

Deep within the fort sat the young but well-seasoned man of a very nice thirty, perhaps as low as twenty-five, at a makeshift wooden desk, by lamplight, busily scrawling away upon a Bristol board paper the following:

To My Dearest Friend Spider---

It has been several months since I have seen your face. It is just pulling into summer now, and the sun is radiant as it beats down upon myself and my current batch of troops, and we are all feeling very uncomfortable with our heavily padded clothes and large loads to carry upon our backs, and yet we rejoice. As you know, there is usually to be no rejoicing in times of hardship, and though we are celebrating now, it is with heavy hearts begging for wings to fly upon, for we all know, that deep down inside, no one can ever win this.

In spite of that, and in the summer heat, it was declared, that you, my friend Spider's dream has come true: we have won the physical war. You have told me many a time in many a letter how that we were slowly losing ourselves in the brutality of it all, and how you were unhappy, and how sometimes you felt so sick you wanted to kill yourself. But I find myself hoping you may rest easy now. Those who oppose you have been subsided for the time being, and even though the land is soaked in blood and reeks of dead bodies, I am happy in knowing that, at least, even if we could not escape the clutches of death, which no being born to a life of war can, we were able to achieve our physical goal.

The soldiers are anxious for their pay, and so, currently I am sorting out the proper amount of money to go to the proper people---of course, with the help of several hundred secretaries---and it will all be taken care of in that manner, because I know you cannot do math for shit. Especially when you are under so much stress.

I have much more to say, but spitefully the communication system is crap, and I'm sick of talking like I'm writing you a funeral speech. But honestly, Spider---go. Seek happy days and happy nights. It's over... for now. I will return to your side soon.

Sincerely yours,
General Estremoz


As he finished, the handsome young man sighed slowly, reading over the paper several times over before finally folding it up neatly, and packaging it within an envelope of corresponding size, and sealing it. Sliding out from his desk, he had risen and combat boots had swiftly carried his frock-coated form to the door to his study, which he promptly opened.

Poking his short, red-haired head outside within the hall, one of the two men standing at his door had glanced to him and nodded wordlessly, taking the envelope containing the document and quickly making his way off.

"Thanks, Vincent."

Estremoz then closed the door, and was left to his own devices.

  • Current Mood
    busy

(no subject)

Making the connection immediately--after all, Narcissa had once been in league--though long-distance--with the Bleachskulls, he certainly knew who Spider was. Eyes widening slightly, he looked upon the other man with a new light in his eyes...a reweighing, a consideration. Then the dawning that this was the man that had ordered the death of hundreds of people...like the people that had once inhabited this town.

"Hm...Spider, eh?" he asked wryly, turning quickly to walk backwards. "Do I get my knife back Spider? It's a little dangerous for such a sweet little thing like me to be traveling all alone...especially at night. You never know what kind of assholes are out there."

He'd really like to just turn around and leave, but for some reason, Red just couldn't make himself. He justified it with the fact that he needed that knife...and he truly did. Though the part of him that he secretly referred to as Narcissa, his naive self, really wanted to sit down and talk to Spider. Ask him why, who, how, what had made him form the Bleachskulls? What had make him take it to that level of violence and destruction?

Though the rain kept pouring down in torrents, he barely noticed it now. Red's skin was as icy cold as the water. He'd probably catch pneumonia and die from it, because the world simply didn't have what it took to treat pneumonia properly. They'd thrown all that away in order to fight their wars and cause their devastation.
  • Current Mood
    intrigued