Voice of an angel

Getting to the Aquarium hadn't been so bad. They'd talked intermittently about nothing important, and nothing particular. Alex asked general questions about how Brody had been, they even talked about school more (though Alex seemed no closer to committing than he had before), and nothing of which hinged on the subject of Anson...

Or why Alex wanted to get out and talk to Brody. Still, they were standing in front of a tank, Alex marveling at the sight in the same blase why he took in all modern wonders. The novelty of the world in the middle of the day was slowly wearing thin, though, replaced with a mild longer for his home (and in the age he was born to) and a blank numbness that came with the inablity to take care of himself, or so it seemed. There was little hiding the fact that his clothing had not been a carefully tended to, or that his hair wasn't brushed to a barely presentable level...or even that he hadn't eaten normally in some time. Everything about Alex screamed something was wrong, but in the same manner as Percy- Alex said little to nothing about that haunted him. The act of sharing was not as easy at people seemed to think. And there wasn't really anything he had to hide, was there?

Well...beyond his own hypocritical transgressions he supposed.

He shoved his hands into his pockets before he turned and limped on, his leg out of the cast, but moving no better for it. The limp would probably be with him for the rest of his life, though. Along with cut and scars. Along with one scar in particular.

"Why do they have so many fish?"

It was best not to ask how Alex managed to get himself to the roof, but just to accept that he was pretty resourceful, and not above using the lift that no one in their right mind trusted. The drinking numbed most of the pain from his healing bones, and somewhere in there he stumbled along until he was alone and staring at the sun lit city through sunglasses and a hoodie. Despite his human form for several months now, he was still leery of the sun. And honestly, who could blame him?

He had a bottle of gin sitting next to him on the building ledge, eyes unfocused as he stared at everything and nothing all at once. No one below noticed the boy, and if they did it was likely they didn't care. That was life in New York, Alex had learned. If it didn't directly after the individual who noticed...they didn't stop to investigate. One for himself and all of themselves...The musketeers they were not. So it was not surprising to the boy that he was able to waste the afternoon where he was, alone...perched on the side of the roof, and idly wondering why he continued to stick around. In general.

So in an effort to sort of make myself focus on developing Alex's character more (verses just saying 'I need to flush him out') I have decided to do a couple of things. One is to do this meme below, a 100 random facts about Alex. Mostly it is for me, and some of it might be useful to other players. Don't know. :)

Secondly, I think I am going to briefly try to describe Alex and Percy's relationship, which is inevitably more complicated than the typical sire/child relationship. But first the 100 Random facts.

( Here are 100 facts/quirks/historical notes/whatever about Alex. It's not just a list. It's a list with commentary, sometimes up to a paragraph, sometimes just a sentence each. Some of them are profound. )

The door was open, because no one in the house ever locked it. And with Brody off on his soul searching whatever (me and aloneness time), Alex was left sitting on the couch with a bottle of gin, lighter, cigarettes and heroin. The computer still had the post where Alex gave out the address to the house. He didn't care that it was some stranger, he didn't care that it could end badly either.

Mostly he wanted to piss someone off. Percy or Arsene....anyone.

And besides, working a fucking needle with broken fingers was a pain in the god-damn ass.

The first day went as a blur, Alex dragged along the floor when he didn’t hobble along fast enough on his hand and knees. He’d take more than one hard fall on his injured arm, and had a number of blistering bruises from a sharp back-hand. Talking, even when in pain, wasn’t allowed.

When he’d refused to play Gustav’s games, he learned the hard way that a dog was meant to do as a dog does; from choking down gross food, to fetching a grimy ball when it was tossed. Each thing that he refused to do ended in a hard whipping, or a sharp kick, reminding him that he wasn’t given the choice in anything. He was meant to do as he was told. Nothing more.

When the second ‘dog day’ came around, Alex has gone to sitting in the corner of his cell and trying to ignore Gustav’s presence all together. But much like his previous encounters, it ended the same miserable way. Beatings and eventual compliance.

But the worst of each day was the way Gustav’s hands would slide over his fair skin, gently soothing away all the pain he’d earned. Placing a small kiss against the top of his head that sent calming shivers across his body. Indeed, it was almost as is Gustav himself provided to delicate calm in waves, slipping over the boy like a blanket until he came back moments later to rip it away.

It was meant to keep him off balance.

It was working.

Alex felt as if he couldn’t keep himself sane. Every emotion he felt was pushed at until it spilled over, breaking every hard built damn. He was a stupid animal, but occasionally required to be something resembling a human being again.

But the fourth day he was starting to feel physically drained, the droning of ever playing music and bright lights giving him no chance at sleep. His stomach ached for something that wasn’t kibble, and his gut twisted, and cramped from the hard diet he’d endured the last several days. His eyes were sore and blood shot from the light, and his water bowl had long gone empty. Pain shoot through his shoulders as he rolled from his back, to his stomach, groaning as he pulled himself up on wobbled, weak legs.

The world spun as he hobbled way to the sad pit, groaning as his relieved himself. At that moment, he was too damn grumpy to give a shit of Gustav walked in to find him standing. The man would only find another reason to take a belt to Alex.

The dark was oppressing. Worse was the smell of urine, vomit, and excrement. The worst was the itching and burning that came from laying in his own filth his lolled to the side. The cuts that Gustav left over his body burned, but his arm was beyond the point of pain. Not that he could really feel it. The swelling had cut off circulation and nothing really told him it was still there save logic.

He groaned as he stared into the black. How long had he been there? Had he slept any? His hunger was numb, but his sense of reality was fading away. He could see what was happening with every moment, well aware that even the slightest act of kindness and generosity on Gustav part would endear the former vampire to him. He knew it all too clearly as he winced.

”Why don't you ever talk about yourself?” Brody had asked, to which Alex had just shrugged and claimed as habit.

Maybe it had been habit…

“Stupid…” He murmured in Italian, “they’ll all just think you took off again.” He chided himself because he knew his mistake. Just as clearly as he knew he had no one to blame but himself for being where he was.

But always had always flirted with a fight, never really wanting to be hit, but craving some twisted sort of attention that would grant him. It countered his frustrations with eternal youth. It was probably why he wanted something more out of Brody, as well. Why he wanted all these things that he never really gave back to anyone.

God. He was just as bad as Percy wasn’t he? Careless with everyone else’s emotions, and fixated on what he wanted? (And what a shitty ass time to even be thinking over the issue.)

If he survived, maybe he would have to make more effort into changing. Heh.

Or maybe he’d think about it as change wasn’t his best traits. “You don’t want to change more like,” he answered himself, Italian bouncing off the walls almost musically. Did he even know himself anymore? He could, given the time, cut a person open and pull out all their secrets…but he had never thought about himself for more than a moment. He had never wanted to think about himself, or his past. Or anything.

Perhaps for all his protest, he was still some child trying to forget himself in circumstance.

After all, he didn’t know who he was anymore.

1 question...
1 chance...
1 honest answer...

That's all you get. Ask me one question. Any one question, anything, no matter how crazy it is. An honest answer. No catch.

All comments will be screened so your question stays private between you and me, and only you will get to see my answer to your question. But I dare you to repost this and see what people ask you.

[[ comments not actually screened, please assume that all threads are locked to the participants. ]]

Alex wasn't expecting what he woke up to. His head hurt, which wasn't all that surprising with the knot on his skull. But he felt woozy, as if everything was a fog as he tried to sit up and rubbed his head. Where was he anyway? And why was he there? And worse, why was he tied down?

He supposed it was his own fault, mouthing off to the wrong people at the wrong time, but the former vampire wasn't the sort of linger on his misfortune. Taking in his surroundings, he licked his lips before trying to decide what his best chances of survival were. And survival, really, was the ultimate goal in situations like this.

Panic was obviously not an option.

Yet.

Alex had slept most of the day, waking up enough to be reminded that moving his head hurt his neck. That one side of his face hurt to put any pressure on it, and his back had a bruise the size of Percy's fist around his shoulder blade. And his arm ached, God it ached.

But come early evening, as the sun set and Percy's light steps were heard leaving the flat, Alex realized that he simply couldn't sleep anymore. Just the thought of it made his head hurt, and grumbled. Pushing himself up, the blond stumbled as he headed out into the hall and blinked at the darkness. He was used to being with Alek, used to the open spaces and the slightly warmer home.

And the smell of food...because the vampire at least feed him.

Still, in the event of failing to find food, Alex did find a towel. And with a plastic bag wrapped about his cast, he began the process of undressing and stepping into the shower. At least the water was warm enough to help him relax.

He didn't like to appear worried, or afraid. It was something he loathed in more ways than he could explain to appear as though Anson or Percy could ever get under his skin. But the truth was Alassandro was terrified. And while he might have needed to wait for Anson to bring him in, Alex felt that minimizing the number of people that saw the results of his reunion...the better.

He mounted the stairs to the flat with a small feeling of worry. But he pushed it all aside as he stopped in the hallway outside Percy's door. How long had he known the vampire he was about to surprise with a ground shatter news break? And realistically, who likely was he to walk away? Looking to the side, Alex bit his lip anxiously.

Taking a deep breath he pushed the door open, and braced himself for the worst of possible events.

"I hear I'm the most popular kid in the streets these days," he said loudly, by way of announcing his presence.

Finding Sam was never Alex's strong spot. He had watched Percy do it a hundred times, the smooth way he just waited, as if he instinctively knew this was the right place to wait. Alex, of course, never had that much faith. He never felt that Sam was really one of those that could be anywhere at once, sorts. But then again, Sam and Alex had never really talked all that much. The blond usually just lurked absently in the background while Sam and Percy took care of their business.

"Sam," which wasn't even the guys real name. But he answered to it, "I need to speak with you, please." Being polite never hurt.

Alex stared at the ceiling silently, his hand resting on his chest...over his beating heart. He'd woken up with a fuzzy feeling, his lungs burning as he took hard breaths of air. Everything hurt in ways he couldn't explain, or recall them hurting.

This was so abnormal, and...just.

So this was life? Or...unlife life. Or what did you even call it? Zombism?

The second question that would come with the setting sun was...what would Alek say?

Getting yelled at in virtual text was about as stimulating as woodpecker. While the whole computer age was a recent phase of Alex's life, he was starting to wish most of it didn't happen. Considering the allowance of morons to occupy the same...'type space' and himself, and not having the option to just 'kill' put a bit of a damper on his life.

Or at least made it more frustrating and boring.

But on the bright side, he had talked Brody into going out with him to look for food. And if Brody promised to talk, he promised not to kill anyone. Though killing his prey was not something Alex normally did anyway. (He saw no reason to point that out to Brody, who had never before gone out 'hunting' with him.)

Walking up to Brody and smiled, looking somehow a little bit younger than Brody, and a bit older all at once.

"Top of the morning," and all that jazz that people at 2am never really did. "Ready?"

How do you not be pretty...?

He packed when no one was looking, which wasn't really hard these days. Percy was occupied with whatever came his way, and Brody...

Brody wouldn't want him to go, but Brody wasn't here at the moment. So it didn't really matter did it? Alex, at least, was more advanced in modern life than Percy. He knew how to read, write, and use a phone. Which, after writing a short note, he promised Brody he would do.

But he'd learned to be alone, and in learning to be alone maybe he'd just never be able to share space with certain people again. Not that, Alex imagined, Percy would notice. Looking at the note again, though, Alex canted his head to the sighed and sighed before picking up his bag and other things.

Then he jotted on last note.

P.S.- Look after him for me, please.

And after that, he turned and shuffled out of the flat before anyone else stumbled upon him on their way home.

I.am.not.a.girl.DAMNIT.

I'm more than stupid decoration.....*sulk*

Think I'm a child? Heh, why?