Activity

@this-is-not-an-alien, @kimlikesart, @ragnarok, @sarafini

 

SEARCH

I watch Grimme nearly puke as Alessio lets the spider. Crawl. On. His. Hand.

What the Abyss is this kid made of?

I hold out the jar.

Except.

He.

Drops.

It.

“I’m sorry!” He backs into … ya’know what? That’s Nithel. And everybody here is getting a tiny trinket. This is ridiculous.

The brown-haired, brown-eyed boy flings his foot in sudden panic.

To my everlasting DeLiGhT, the spider flies through the air.

“Stand up! Get up, you baffoon. It might get me!”

“Grimme.” I whisper as brown-eye continues howling. “Next time it flies, scatter it in here.”

“Stop, you’re scaring it-whoa!.”

“What if it gets bigger?” She mouths. If I didn’t know the story, it be funny that a little bug could scare this indomitable woman.

Unfortunately, I know the story. Held Burn through some of the nightmares. And now become a bit scared myself. Abyss-bound cults and their quests for immortality.

“Just …”

“It just wants to be friends! Sage says it’s not poisonous!!”

“Is there a transparent container we can use to hold him in?” The scale-handed one says. “I’d rather not shove him in a jar like this.”

“Lets contain him right now. We’ll get something better in a minute.” I say.

Grimme grits her teeth. “Darn it.”

“What is going on?!” Burn yells in agitation.

Oscar starts hushing him.

“Out of time Grimme.”

She swears – viscously and colorfully – then splinters into thousands of particles of neon-blue, glowing dust. In a gnat-like swarm she darts to the last known location.

 

BURN

Darn it stuff is happening and Oscar is a dirty lier who lies and why? Why do I always fall for this?!

“Come on punk! You can’t hide the … whatever it is going down on the other couch!”

My entire sentence is in fits and starts because sOmEoNe is yelling the entire time!

“Get off of him right now, and apologize to Nithel. Now.”

“It’s alright… It’s alright…”

“But he-!”

“Get up!”

“I don’t know if I can?!”

“Oscar! Are they murdering each other?!” I try to stand but Oscar pulls me back down on the couch. “What’s going on?”

“You looked buff enough, back in the other place. Like you could carry my adult-self. So move.”

“Your cowardice and insulting speech is becoming only to the knaves of Avonia. Get down right now so I can fight you in a fair dual!”

“Abyss yeah!” I do wriggle free then – mostly because the situation has escalated to it being appropriate to make judicious use of my ‘abnormally pointy’ elbows.

There is a thump of bodies hitting the floor – fortunately not as … slack as many of the bodies I’ve heard fall. Still very full of life! Which mean I lost my opportunity to interfere with a duel yet.

What? Didja think I was going to watch it? With what eyes?

Some tiny punk squeals with laughter – sounds like Vi when Drake accidentally hit his own foot with his war-hammer.

 

Something.

Splits.

I reel, grabbing my head.

“So good to see you, Hades Irving.”

What? Who … Punk-With-Voices-In-His-Head. Really creepy voices.

“Yes, I know your name.”

Ugh. I wonder if this is what the worshippers of Luna felt like.

“I know you have many questions, but I shall answer none of them. For one trial is yet to be completed,”

This is worse than when I accidentally joined the Apotheosis. I mean. It beat being brutally murder as some kinda human sacrifice. Especially before getting answers…

“Go, return to the group. Prepare for your Trial of Malice and Vengeance.”

Oh. That’s the Abyss-born monster that started this.

Great. Perfect. Wonderful.

“Hey Loony-Punk.” I grab my head. “’s fine. We’ll get him…”

Two splits.

Simultaneously.

Pretty sure Loony-Punk didn’t hear me. Which is find because he needs a better name anyway. Hm.

Ow. By the way. Just. Ow. Punk.

 

Oscar’s arms wrap tight around me. “Hey kid. Hey. Sh. It’s alright. Come on.”

“I’m a full-grown adult punk.” I grumble and try to get my feet under me.

“Search!” I call. Did someone fall through a hole in reality? “Do we have anymore guests?”

“Eh?” Oscar says.

 

SEARCH

I … stare at the glasses-person. Who just … appeared.

Poor. Poor punk.

…

I’ve spent too much time around Burn.

“Uh, hi. I’m Alixer.”

“Uhh…” Alessio gapes up at the strange man.

Grimme finally rematerializes beside me. “I’m going to be sick.” She mutters and deposits the spider in the jar.

I have never. In my entire life. Slammed a lid down faster.

“We-You-“ Nithel tosses Ohel’s legs off as he sat up. He sighs – reasonable reaction to the day. I will probably be introducing my head to a wall. Later. When Burn won’t see that unhealthy coping mechanism. “I am Nithel son of Father. And…what does your name mean? A substance that turns others into gold? A healing tonic? I…Something else?”

Alessio stares at the stranger, and then peeks at Brown-Eye glaring daggers at Nithel.

“Oh, uhh, Alessio!” He suddenly bows. “Long life to you and your kin.” Her goes bright red then ducks behind Nithel.

Then he turns to Brown-Eyes with an impish smile. “We can be friends now!”

“Aw.” Grimme beams. “He’s just like Burn when I first found him.”

“WE!” Oscar thunders. “ARE NOT ADOPTING ANOTHER KID!”

Grimme shrugs. “I’ve heard that before.”

Speaking of Burn…

“Yeah. Someone just appeared out of thin air.” I hand the jar to Scale-Hand. “Don’t open it. I promise well find something better later.” I squint at Burn. “Hey? You okay?”

Uh. Newcomer. “Hey. Sorry for being rude. Name’s Search.” I wave as I pass him and help Oscar get Burn back on the couch. “Now. Can everyone. Stop. Yelling. For more than five minutes? Please?”

“That would be nice.” Grimme dusts her arms. Powder – no. Actual dust that she must have picked up during her … swarming? Scattering? – puffs to the ground. “So.” She straightens, assuming that authoritative air that puts Mom to shame. “Welcome to the Woodwall residence. You may call me Grimme. This is my husband who you may call Mr. Woodwall.”

Oscar stands and nods formally, striking his chest with his right fist. “Prosperity to you sir.”

But not long life or happiness. Hm. He must be very irritated. Can’t tell if it’s because of the chaos, the uninvited guests, or Grimme forcing formal mode.

Burn slumps against the couch and clutches his head. “And the other punk?” he says. “Who we talked to by the creepy pool?”

Um. I scratch my head. Oooooh. Yeah. So much has happened and we only talked for all of five minutes. “Hade? Hades? I think?”

“Yeah. Where is he?” Burn rubs his scalp. “Agh. Stupid creepy disembodied voices with creepy trials and evil pools.” He holds out his arm. “And I still have the creepy hearts.” He rubs his chest.

Oscar freezes.

Then swears and grabs Burn’s wrist.

“Anyone else have these markings?” He holds up Burn’s arm.

I hide my arm behind my back.