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Its just a walk in the park...

October 5th, 2008

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?"
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"Because they're pretty, I guess." Everything is tinted blue down here, from the water pressed against the glass, and it's really pretty. Not for the first time Brody considers taking up photography, but it's not really the same thing. And he really doesn't want to look like a tourist so he keeps his cell phone in his pocket. "And they do like, science-y stuff to them, or something. That's a technical term."

He's noticed Alex's deterioration, but it's something he has no idea what to do about. He's hoping that getting him out of Percy's house and putting him in an environment where he's around people who are roughly the same age as him will help, but he's not sure--you should try harder, he says to himself all the time, he is his own worst critic.
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If only things were so simple. It was easier to be detached from the world when you were dead, at least as far as medical science cared. There was no pressing need to be accepted, to be a part of a group or anything of that nature. You were already apart of something greater, a superior race that was set apart. Or at least that was an easy, no pain rationale.

But now things were different. Alex could, in a sense, feel himself dying. It wasn't the way people in movies described it, there was no second hand ticking in front of him counting his minutes down and taunting him. It was just...a feeling. As if this infinite time he had to do things was suddenly finite. It was not welcoming, though logically he had done it to himself, and it brought with it all sorts of fears. Now he worried about 'what if', and a strange fear of being alone was staring him right in the face. And weakness...he was weak now.

Gustav had more than made that clear.

"Percy was on the news," he commented after a moment, looking back at Brody with a look that suggested too many things to be pinned down as one. "Do you think they'll put him in a box and do 'science-y stuff' to him?"
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"Naw. Life doesn't work like the X-Files." He keeps his eyes on the fish, watching them swim around and above them. Aquariums are pretty cool, all things considered. "They'll probably just arrest him and he'll die in jail or something." Brody says this all like he's talking about the weather--not a concentrated effort to be casual, it just comes out like things normally do with him anymore. Apathetic.

"So what's up, sugar?"
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"I don't want him to die..." He was more than aware of what sort of person, creature Percy was. But that did little change that fact that much of Alex's life had been invested in that broken man. Percy's death would be like cutting all ties to his past, and his past (Alex felt at least) was really all he had left.

"I..." He started, at Brody's question before stopping and looking at the other people around them. For a moment he wished Brody just simply know Italian, but that was wishful thinking. "I saw him again..." He said finally. Though he did not define 'him' in the slightest.
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"Someone will take care of it."

There's something unspoken there, but clear nonetheless: someone else. Please, for once, someone else take care of it. He's not really holding out hope because he really has no reason to expect that anyone else is going to step up, but for the time being he's deluding himself into believing that this time someone else will fix this.

There's a brief pause. "What happened?"
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"He....he marked me. I don't even know what that means." He looked down, his head hanging and he started to walk away. It wasn't like him to let things get inside his head, to confuse or make him afraid. But he was. He wished, and not for the first time, he could just go back to being a boy 200 years ago that didn't think vampires were anything other than fairy tales parents told children to make the behave.

"I want to leave this city." He said finally, a tinge of worry and fear laced in his voice.

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"'Marked'." His attention is caught by the word, as someone who knows exactly what kind of 'marks' vampires can leave on humans--he spends too much time around ghouls these days. "What exactly did he do?"

He feels a headache coming on. He's not upset with Alex, but he can already tell the situation's going to be one more stressor that he's not sure he can handle. "Where do you want to go?"
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"He carved something into my chest...then mixed his blood with mine. He said it made me his..." He wouldn't have bothered to mention it, really, if he wasn't near a point of utter meltdown. Alex was quite accomplished at playing the adult, and having sound reasoning and decent logic. But all that was breaking down around him.

The one person he'd always been able to count on wasn't there to count on, and learning to lean on others had never been his strongest suite. But this was his attempt, wasn't it?

"Sorry..." he said after amount, looking back at Brody with a lackluster smile. "Don't worry about...I just..." Needed to tell someone.
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He sits down heavily on a nearby bench as people walk past them, not even paying any attention to two teenaged boys presumably talking about girls or how their parents don't understand them. "No, sugar, I think you're right, I do think you need to leave. For a little bit, anyway."

He chews on his thumbnail, watching a manta ray swim over their heads. "That... sounds like a blood bond." The kind of vampires Alex is used to are a little different than the ones Brody is used to, but in general an exchange of blood is never good. Or--it can be, but not when it's unwilling. Ahem. "Will you tell me who it is?"
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"I don't know his name..." Which was a lie. But lying to keep Brody from looking for someone that would just as soon as kill than look twice? Alex felt justified. Besides, if it kept Brody and others safe, it didn't matter what he did right? "And you don't know him. No one does."

He sat down after a moment, staring at the tank across from him before he frowned. "I'm sorry....I'm not very open."
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"How does he find you?"

No, he's not going to drop it that easily.

He really needs a cigarette or a bump; it feels too hot in here and he can't really think as straight as he wants to, although he knows blow isn't going to improve his mental faculties at all. It would just make him feel better. "It's okay. I wish you'd talk more, but I understand why you wouldn't want to."
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"I don't know. I was just...standing there. Outside Percy's flat...and..." Alex cut off, grabbing his hands as he started to shaking a little. He didn't like this feeling.

"What do you want to know?" At the moment he was willing to talk about anything that didn't involve a vampire.
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"Specifically? I don't know. I don't know your history, so."

He is mentally filing away all these things he knows about Alex's assailant, which isn't much, but it's something to go on, anyway. What he's concerned about is getting Alex away from him, which... may be harder than it sounds. He knows the power vampires have over their ghouls, and even if it doesn't sound like Alex is one, the process is really similar.

"Just... I don't know what you're hiding, but you know I'd never hate you." He's not even capable of it.
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"I don't even know what I'm hiding," he smiled weekly, kicking his feet back and forth for a moment, before he leaned back against the glass. "My mother died after I was born. By Papa was a blacksmith, the local Duca used to bring his horses to him to be shoed, and bought his swords for good coin. We didn't live like kings, but we lived well."

He tilted his head to the side before he licked his lips. "When Percy turned me, he said it was because I sounded like an angel singing to God. And the first person I killed was my Papa..." His eyes watered a little, before he took a deep breath and smiled with a nervous laugh. "I never told anyone else that."
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He takes it in evenly, even if the time period they're talking about is way out of his experience. Too old for him, too young for his patchwork soul. "I'm sorry. That must have been hard."
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"I didn't care..." He admitted after a moment. "That's not right, is it? Not caring? After that...We were in Manchester, in the 50s. And I...I was standing in front of this church. Drunk and fucked up on opium. And I thought I saw my Papa standing there. Telling me I was a bad boy, and...and that God didn't like the sound of my voice. And...logically it was the opium, but it freaked me out. I was doing good to stand up and this ghost was telling me I deserved hell because I was with Percy."

He licked his lips and looked at Brody, "so I left. I thought, at the time, that I was old enough to take care of myself. But I wasn't. Not really. I slept in storm drains, under drain ditched, buried under snow. I ran all around the Soviet Union by hopping on trains and riding with bums that eyed me like I was a good stake. I killed KGB before they could kill me, and then I left Russia. And then I ran around Italy, and Greece, and everything was the same. I stayed in cities a night or two because the cops would run me out while trying to catch me. I didn't have time to drink or get high. Heh..."
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unimpressed [info]italiano_angel
July 2009
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