Raising Lions(Luna, Semper, Closed)

[[Ree]craft]

Defiance Lee

The truth.
So you want the truth.
Well, you'll get it. Every last inch of it.
It had nothing to do with the bracelet. He never missed the bracelet, and he never knew I stole the bracelet, in fact, that bracelet was for another girl. That other girl is now dead. It was his doings that killed her, just like how he tortured me.

That bracelet only symbolized how I didn't really love him. How all I wanted off of him was food, clothing, money, even a small hope to try drugs. It was me who was deluded. I thought I loved him, and I thought he loved me. Neither was true. He hated me, for no apparent reason. He never knew I didn't love him, and neither did I. He just hated me. And it wasn't just me. I've seen more girls on the rack after this, and I was wary enough to spot him standing next to the executioner. Some of the girls were shot, some only tortured, but I'm sure they died soon after.

Suddenly I could no longer look at human beings the same way. I could no longer trust someone. That love I had thirsted for for so long was diminished, and the world turned several shades darker. Everyone works for themselves, I learned. There is no such thing as love. Only selfishness. People feed off of each other, they don't care about the other person, they just like the pleasure they get from them. With him, his pleasure was watching his women tortured and pained. With others, it's being private with a their opposite sex, or sometimes even their own gender. They do nothing for the other person. It's all for themselves.

I swore I'd never be like that. I'd rise about the average human and get away from this world. Live life on my own. Never risk my life again. And I have been safe with myself. No one to betray me or ruin me. I almost forgot how to talk once.

Thoughts of vengeance at him run through my head constantly. But then I think, why vengeance? He has taught me the way of the world, a valuable lesson. He has made me wiser, more perceptive, and smarter. Why should I punish him? And the answer finally came to me. Because that is not what he meant to happen. He meant me to suffer, or even die, and his intentions are what matters. He will pay for it.

The next day, I stole from a shop a beautiful satin white bride's dress.

I see his fist about to fly before he is finished talking. He is so unreasonably angry. What have I done to him except talk? Talking is not what provokes action. Action provokes action, and I have done no action. I slither out of the path of his clumsy flying fist, and dance on my toes just out of reach. Both men are angry at me. So what, I don't care. Pretty much everyone in town is angry at me except a stray cat that I like to throw my leftovers. These two men can be added to my list, and we'll see if I can make a record for the most hated person in the world.

This is horribly fun, but I'm vividly aware that I do have a tight schedule. I need food, and I need to leave soon. I can't stand around and enjoy a good fight or argument. Luxury is not on my agenda today.

I just need to leave, I think. This is one of the situations where I should use some of my precious money. My hand steals down my shirt like a cat's paw darting at a fish and grabs my leather pouch. It's quality leather. Durable, sealed with buttons, so no once can pickpocket easily. If I could I'd add a padlock, honestly, but that would be inefficient.

"This is stupid," I say disdainfully, pulling out a gold coin. "I have money for some food. Will you give me some, or are you above that now? Shall we just say, I've had a revelation and decided to live honestly now?" The idiot is being as stubborn as a mule, so I've chosen to ignore him. Of course, my ever wary eye, tracks his every movement, but outwardly, he looks like a cloud of dust in my eyes. Something you cough on and swat away. Something irritating, that can't be taken care of so you just leave once you've finished your business. The other man, on the other hand, I have interest in. He has food. I need food. Presto. I pay for it, I break away cleanly with food and life. Of course if he tries to turn me in, I'll still break away with life, but without food.

[semper]

Of course she had dodged his attack; he had highly doubted he even would make contact with her jaw, though he really wished he could have. She was terribly annoying. Gavroche's jaw tightened as her voice sounded yet again, though he noticed her pulling out some sort of wallet.

"I have money for some food. Will you give me some, or are you above that now? Shall we just say, I've had a revelation and decided to live honestly now?"

"No. We don't serve rotten thieves."

The boy answered in a boorish tone, his eyes narrowed to slits. He didn't want to have anything to do with her, two reasons especially: 1. she was a thief. And 2. he thought she was stupid. Whatever had happened to her probably was just as bad as what had happened to him; he turned out to live an honest life, and she didn't.

"With what happened to me for about 14 years, I certainly wouldn't trust people. But I knew that not all people were like that, so I went with living an honest life and not doing to others what was done to me. You, on the other hand.... you went wrong somewhere."

From his height he looked down at her, a look of disapproval on his face. The boy's arms crossed across his chest tightly.





((I've been staring at this half finished post for the past two hours and my brain has flat lined and it's 1:32 in the morning...... DX *dies* ))

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[Prince Inigo]

Fingers tracing along a table, he said, "Prove it. In years." The man ceased moving after so many short steps, preferring to gaze at condiments on one dinning area. After spending seconds, the glare returned to the two, hollow of true emotion. "Trust is never easily fixed. Honesty is the same." With her assumed ignorance and stubbornness, he had to share a little more, much to his chagrin. Wisdom was on his side; but, it seemed it was also on the side of the other male - while seemingly he, too, was blinded by his own animosity towards thieves. So pretentious.

Upon hearing the small exposure of the other male's life, the nineteen-year old felt some tug at his heart. The black-haired individual snarled lightly, definitely scowling. He had returned to the earlier posture of straight back against the counter, arms folded, and eyes locked on the woman and tanned man. The combination of funniness, shared similar histories - though not detailed yet - and bluntness gave him slight hope but no reason for it. That being said, he could not trust the chemicals within his body, and thus he attempted to ignore what reactions were produced. People are so annoying.

Distance played no interference on hearing the conversation playing out; everything spelled out a cuss word starting with a 'b' and ending with a 't'. Human leaves never turned over so quick. The girl's words were - to put in flowery terms - boomerangs: thrown out there in one direction, any direction, but always came back to the original reasoning. His skepticism gave her no leeway to be fooled; as said, she would have to prove with years rather than instant turnover.

Their world - the tavern - had grown inconspicuously dark. Three negative people encompassed a single room, each with their own machinations and working mind gears clicking in production of internal blackness. The trio of auras combined made a nasty-tasting treat only to be consumed by the wicked and those that could take their own words. Unusual-colored orbs watched the sun rise slowly, the full set of arrows still going unused to make a red river run and splatter clumps of lively green and dead yellow; yet, the business was not over, so it seemed. Apologies were to given by riding the problem no matter the procedure. The old hag can't complain.

[[Ree]craft]

(eh, we need something to happen, because by now Defiance would just leave... so i'll post and then we'll have to think. Grrr, it doesn't help i have no muse right now)

Defiance Lee

Death. I remember, how scared I was of it when I faced it, but the death he will have will be different. He will be guilty and he'll actually deserve it. If I was honest, I would admit I didn't have much of a plan, but honesty was abandoned long ago.

Dressed in a beautiful silk gown, and I went to his house. He lives alone, I'd learned after half a year of snooping for information. He's old enough now. I also learn that he has no family. Good, no one will miss him. No guilt for me, I guess. This is revenge, this is justified.

Dressed in a beautiful silk and satin gown I approached his front door. My flaming red hair a cloud from hell, my face ghostly white. I'd stolen some lip stick to make my lips contrast strikingly with my skin.

I turn the knob and open the door.

His house is dark and sparsely decorated. It doesn't look like he spends much time here. I know he's here now though. I watched him today, like a creepy stalker. I am a creepy stalker, I realize with an inner laugh.

"Who's there?"

The voice rang out into the silence like a whip. I hear it and strange emotions well up within me like bubbles. Passion, anger, lust, hatred. Lets just say, almost all of the deadly sins.

"You know who, love," I say in a sweet singsong voice. I step into the light. "Remember me?"

"My god," he says, and he to steps into the light.

"You look just as I remember you." I smile, and I could almost believe I have pointed teeth. "I've missed you."

He seems stunned, scared. I'm not even sure if he knows who I am. Maybe he thinks of me as all of his various victims, or am I singled out as the worst?

I walk over to him and draw my knife behind my back. "Are you sorry, sweetheart?"

The blade pierces his arm and touches his bone. He's brought to his knees in pain. "Please!" he shouts.

"Feel my pain," I hiss. I rip his shirt off and walk and admire his back. My hand lashes out faster than the whip had hit me. My knife blade cuts his back.

"You get thirty nine more." His screams, his pleas are like music to my ears. The thirty nine goes to quickly.

My knife plunges into his heart. He dies. Like that.

"It's what you deserved!" I scream into the night air. "No! Please! I'm right, I'm right, I'm right. I'm right."

I fall onto his chest and sob for hours. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry. I d-d-didn't mean it. Please... I'm sorry."

But he's gone. He can't say, "You're forgiven."

I gain nothing by standing here. He has denied me food, and there is nothing I get by standing here with these two idiots.

"You are wrong," I say to the idiot who hasn't punched me yet. "Honesty and trust? If wounded to deeply, they can never be fixed never. And as for your other question.... You prove it in years.

I need to leave. and when there isn't anything to gain, there's no point being somewhere.

(Eh, i'm to lazy to code this right now)

[semper]

Gavroche honestly had nothing more to say. This girl -- whatever her name was -- had destroyed all the patience he had. On any other occasion, he would simply have left; but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to do so. Arms still crossed across his chest, the boy diverted his gaze to the side, not wanting to have anything else to do with the girl. What did she know about getting an honest living? Apparently nothing. Whatever had happened to her to make her think this way must have really screwed with her head.

The boy looked up, noticing that large, dark, billowing clouds were circling above. A low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, and it was then that Gavroche realized that the birds had stopped chirping. There was a storm coming, but the more he remained silent and listened, the more eerie things began to feel.

"Something's not right..."

He muttered to himself, arms slowly loosening and dropping back down to his sides. Eyes scanning the sky, he couldn't pick out what made him feel so..... so anxious. Sure, there was a storm, but there was a certain electrical feel in the air that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge. There was absolutely no wind.

"Oh, no, this isn't good...."





((GAHH! I'm so sorry this post is rushed!crap, but I'm too worked up about Mockingjay to focus clearly and I really wanted to at least give you guys something to reply to. D: ))

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[Prince Inigo]

Reds caught a glimpse of the world outside the tavern glass; and, somehow, the sun was drooping in power, District 9 gathering darkness. By not being able to perk to the bird chirps, the man left his little spot, heading to the door. Thunder rolled, quietness encompassed the non-tavern atmosphere. The eldest one peered through the windows; people rushed, some he recognized as the District 9 hunters. With their - and his - trained eyes for nature and behavioral changes, it gave him a major clue as to the current weather situation. No winds blew by.

"We're stuck in." Ears perked to more rumbling. "Trying to run now would be too late unless where you're heading is right next door." He started to see the first session of rain, a trickle that would eventually run to a downpour. Droplets would blur the vision badly, which was not essential especially during a thunderstorm. Low snarl. Stuck in with idiots.

Turning around, the man had crossed back to the tavern man, fishing out a few coins, and sticking out the money. "This should be enough for something to eat." He had certainly gotten a bit more talkative to this slightly younger person, yet it irked him greatly. Tavern man actually seemed okay. Though the black-haired man had been here before, there was no time for any interaction between the men; and, quite frankly, it was both a curse and somewhat blessing.

Now that Nature had turned everything into an indoor nightmare, the man compromised with himself that he would reward himself now to survive long enough from pretentious woman and irksome - unknowingly irksome - man. The family he was living with presented this type of rewarding system, and it seemed to work out fine - even wonderfully. The all-work notion was ideal; but, humans were not perfect. Nowhere near perfect.

He began to concoct up ways to spend time - with or without these other two.

[[Ree]craft]

(Does this building have more than one floor? It is important for me to know for my future plans )

[semper]

[/size]

[[Ree]craft]

Defiance Lee

A year later.
Still, nobody knows who brutally murdered him. It was a clumsy murder, they say, made with many stabs. He had bled to death from many wounds. Still, no one knew who did it.Because technically, I don't exist.

When he died, no one really cared. I think even a few people suppressed happy feelings about it. I withdrew from the world and hid in the forest, trying not to think or feel. It's a difficult business, living in hell. I suppose, now that I look back, I could've pulled myself out of there, but honestly, I can't blame myself for my year of insanity. I've never killed someone since. A bit of the trauma has died off. I don't think about him anymore. I know his ghost is hovering at the edge of my mind, but I avoid it, and never summon it anywhere near me. I know that if he comes back to me, I will go completely mad.



Storm. Can't escape. Stay here. Danger. Hate. Idiots. These words register into my mind one after the other. Wait... I can't leave the building? One more registers in my mind: Crap.

I think back to my supplies in the forest. All safe and buried, under layers of leaves and dirt in a water proof backpack. They'll be okay. What may not be okay is me. These two idiots, could well call a peacekeeper after me. But of course, that's only if they have a telephone.

"Do you have a telephone?" I ask. "I want to call my grammy." Sarcasm makes the world go round, in my opinion.

I look around me. I've never been in a place like this for more than ten minutes. The floor is made of wood planks. There are tables and chairs scattered amongst the room and at the far end is a stair case. I wonder how many floors the building has. To the left is a bar with glasses and bottles. Hanging from above is a dimly lit chandelier, or well.... more like a lamp hanging from the ceiling. To me, this is luxury, and I don't like luxury.

(BLAH! lame post)

[semper]

A few years back, when he was trapped in the room, Gavroche would sit at the small window and watch storms in the afternoon. The massive bolts of lightning and shock waves of thunder awed him, but they still scared the poor boy. Despite how pretty the display of light was, it always scared him. His mother would comfort him, but as soon as there would be a boom loud enough to shake the window, the boy would cower. Would this be another one of those storms?

Absentmindedly having gone over to the window, Gavroche stood silently, looking out at the eerie clouds. Something was still off.... terribly off. The boy couldn't tell exactly what, but the way the trees stood absolutely, unnaturally still was startling. A cold shiver tingled his skin.

"Do you have a telephone? I want to call my grammy."

Gavroche turned around, eyes narrowing to slits.

"A telephone? What do you think this is, a suite hotel or something?"

Despite how horrible of a comeback that was, he didn't care. A snort escaped him as he glanced back at the window, though he froze. The wind had picked up -- much, much too quickly to be a normal afternoon storm. There was a wild howling at the door as rushing air whistled through the cracks of the door, and outside the trees were bending over, limbs flailing and the bright undersides of leaves showing, reflecting the intense lightning that lit up the sky. The thunder that sounded was enough to shake the boy's bones, startling him.

"That's one hell of a storm..."

He muttered, backing away towards the counter. It wasn't very like him to be nervous in the midst of a storm, but something about it set him on edge, bringing back memories of claustrophobia and detainment. Compared to the storm, he felt small and vulnerable -- a combination he did not enjoy.

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[Prince Inigo]

(*makes Zentaal do something but sit there*)

No objections to his payment, the man went behind the counter and looked at the assortment of drinks and bottles, various colored liquids still as the storm brewed outside. He turned his attention away and continued looking, searching in cabinets and drawers. Each time the black-haired one pulled or opened up a storage compartment, he shot slightly-narrowed eyes and closed said containers. Scowling, the older figure exited the area, unamused. Thoughts that some sort of provision - even though not the kitchen area - would have been behind the counter as emergency rations were denied.

All the while searching, he had listened to the short-lived conversation between the girl and the tavern man about telephone service. His red orbs rolled slightly, thinking arrogant notions. By his calculations, she did not seem anywhere close to the 'caring-for-family' type, or even one of a group of people that wanted familial support in times of crises. Sarcasm, perhaps, he noted to himself; but, the nineteen-year old cared not for the information. Now, since she was giving them such a hard time earlier, he wanted to say something - out of his silent character - and prove her wrong.

Walking around to a bar stool, the man barely sat upon a chair, keeping his legs stretched to the ground at an angle. Arms folded, he added to the conversation, "Storm's going to mess up the electrical cords. Want to be an idiot and try the telephone, I don't care." Some quality in the tavern man's biting response was striking the funny bone - though serious - in him; and, while somewhat curious, he did not want to stay in the building for long to figure out the feeling. Curiosity, yet repulsion; he hated it. Tavern man's statements were akin to the childish youth's in the dream.

There was hesitance to scorn, and that made the oldest one in the room hate the conflicting emotion more.

Thinking over options, the man took a few seconds semi-sitting at the bar, watching the two and their time together. In his mind, he crossed many 'illogical' and 'unnecessary' choices, further narrowing down to achieve higher probability percentages. When they were slimmed down to two, he picked the one he felt would better his skills and stay away from these two, for the most part. Hopefully. He asked, "Have an instrument?" When he thought it over, it sounded stupid; but, passing the time by doing nothing was less desired, he argued to himself.

(He was resisting to ask, but I forced him. )

[[Ree]craft]

Defiance Lee

Well, oh crap.
Would you look at that.
My life's just crumbled to dust.
Oh well. Maybe one day I'll fix.
But it's not likely.
It's hard to put molecules together one by one to finally form the masterpiece, and I don't think I'm up to that.


I don't think I've ever been so irritated in my life. It's almost like being trapped in a nightmare, though it's a pretty sad nightmare to be honest. All I can do is sit in here and wait for that blasted storm to end. Why does there have to be a storm anyway? Of all the luck.

Well, look at the bright side, I guess. At least I'm not being soaked outside in the wilderness. At least I'm under a roof, in warmth. I was satisfied with the innkeeper's answer. He had no phone, and at any rate, the phone wouldn't work, says the idiot. That's fine with me. They're trying to insult me, but I couldn't care less. I need to focus, see what I can do.

Not much. My first and main option is stay here. My second option is try to leave. Well, I'll get soaked, catch a cold or pneumonia, and probably die in a week. Yeah, right, I'm not going outside. Any other options? Well, not really.

So, we'll go with option one. Stay here. Well, I'll probably be here for a long time. We need to explore the options I have for staying here now. I could murder the two idiots, but if I'm being honest with myself I'll realize that I'm scared of death. There's not a chance of me committing murder for such a petty reason. My other options? Well I can sit here and do nothing. To me, that seems most likely.

I don't say a word to the other idiots, but I go to a window, pull up a stool and sit on it watching the sky outside. I always loved thunderstorms. They're so beautiful, and so potentially dangerous. I love danger. If I didn't, I'd have trouble living the life I do.

The idiot who isn't an innkeeper asks for an instrument. I just barely suppress making a sound that would seem remarkably like a giggle that morphed into a groan. If there was one thing I hated, it was music. Putting aside the fact that most people were liable to play their instruments in a horrible off key fashion, music was pointless and irritating.

I however, manage to keep my mouth firmly shut and devoid of all noises. Just shut your ears, keep it out.

In the distance I saw a flash of lightning. I like lightning.

[semper]

Unwilling to stand by the window any longer, Gavroche backed away just as the girl swept past him, taking a stool along with her to the glass. He couldn't quite pin it down, but something about her -- he was leaning more towards the "tough guy" atmosphere about her -- that just grated his nerves. And as much as he wanted to throw her through the window and out into the storm, he knew it would be a cruel action, and besides, he knew he wouldn't be able to actually go through with it. His mind, conditioned to associate bad actions with severe and scarring punishment, wouldn't be able to handle it.

The boy returned back to behind the counter, jumping at the sound of thunder and swearing under his breath. Out of nervous habit he ran his fingertips along the smooth wooden table surface, stopping a few strides away from the older man; he pulled up a stool and sat down, arms crossed and resting on the table.

"Have an instrument?"

Gavroche looked over at the man, raising an eyebrow. Of all questions to ask at that point in time, why for an instrument? 'If he wants to blare it to drown out anything that wretched girl says, then why not?'

"Yeah... why?"

He unfolded his arms and reached under the counter, pulling out a rusted, beat-up trumpet and setting it on the bar. As old as the thing was, Gavroche found that it still played well despite its appearance. The instrument had served as a security item to the boy when he first arrived at the tavern, acting as a harmless way to either express himself or vent, should the need arise.

"If you want to play it, feel free to."

He eyed the girl next to the window, muttering to himself as he settled back down, crossing his arms and resting them on the counter.



((Gahh. D: This was a lot shorter than I had hoped it to be. Dx But it's finally finished...))

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