Cats in the Woods {Adrian}

[gamemaker kelsier]

S P E A K I N G // T H I N K I N G

The thread found itself being guided rather carefully through the spine of the book, binding it tightly to the sixty or so pages on cats inside. The stitches were small, tight, and perfect as usual. If it had been done wrong, Tristan would have just as carefully pulled the stitches out if they weren't. Before finishing the last stitch, he made his bookbinder's signature, two stitches tightly made into a square with a small dot of no thread. Every binder has a signature, and Tristan had taken his from his father, and his father before him. Efficiently he cut and tied the thread, and opened the book to see if the book worked properly and he hadn't stupidly sewn it wrong. He let out a small sigh of relief and accomplishment as he found everything to be done well.

Leaning back, he tossed the book onto his desk, and then immediately straightened it. Leaning back once again, he ran a hand through his hair, which was sticking up every which way at the moment. He considered fixing his hair before dropping off the latest project, but for once chose not to. The book was on rush, and was due in one hour exactly. He supposed that the book was for a small child, as the pictures were large, and there was little writing. He hadn't bothered looking through it much, as he couldn't actually read very well. He did know the basics, like any bookbinder, but give him a novel and he was clueless. Besides, he didn't have the time to read leisurely. He had to feed himself somehow. He picked up the needle, to put it away, expertly flicking it so that he would not stab himself. When he was younger he stabbed himself all the time, but now he was more experienced.

He grabbed his blue scarf today, and slung it around his shoulders. Quickly grabbing the book, and sliding it into his book sling, he stomped out the door. He didn't bother with locking it, as he had nothing valuable. He kept the tools to his tried in a pocket inside his boots, so nothing was inside the hut. Even if he wanted to lock it, he couldn't as he was too poor to be able to own a lock yet. So he simply kicked it shut so it jammed, and walked off. The adress that had come with the order was for the manor in the woods, so Tristan knew that he probably had a walk ahead of him, and was already regretting the fact that he hadn't brought a sweater. he hadn't realized how cold it would be underneath the trees, out of the sunshine, and he was already shivering.

It made him want to laugh, but the result was more of a tired, bitter, giggle than a laugh, and it only served to make him feel even cloudier. And when he felt cloudy, his thoughts always drifted over to his sister, and all the other stupid crap in his life. truthfully, Tristan had no friends, unless you counted the black cat that sometimes jumped into his window to steal his small amount of food. And he didn't. He didn't need his food stolen, he was already half starved as it was. Just the thought of the cat made him growl, and he must threw the book on the ground to stalk off, when he remembered that he had to deliver it if he wanted his money. So, he trooped on, getting rather tired of the endless trees. He was following the path that it said on the map, but it seemed to be taking forever just to get anywhere. Truthfully, it had only been ten minutes, but Tristan wasn't the most patient of guys.

Especially when he had important things like nothing,and binding to do. A moment later, his boot slipped into some mad, and a bit splattered up onto his face. He had to stop and wipe it off, and then make sure his boots were clean, so that took another five minutes of his time, and soon enough, with other distractions on his mind, he only had another ten minutes to reach the house, and he hadn't even seen it yet. So grumbling, he broke into a jog, almost groaning at the effort it caused. It wasn't that he wasn't fit, it was that he hadn't eaten yet as he was trying to save his meager daily meal for dinner. He liked to go to bed full, instead of starving, and living alone he could only afford to buy one meal a day. It had frustrated him for about five minutes before he realized that he didn't really care altogether.

He stopped running suddenly, as he ran into a clearing, a large manor in view. He hadn't even known that District seven had manors. He supposed that someone had to own the paper mills, but he hadn't thought that they would be district seveners. It seemed to him that everyone suffered, but here this person was, buying a book on cats. he supposed the cat lover was helping out the economy by purchasing the written, or should he say draw work, but still. He didn't have any extra money to spend on cat books. Even if he did have money to spend on cat books, he wouldn't buy cat books because he would buy food instead. Anyway, buying a cat book was a ridiculous thing to do in his eyes. The only thing it could be useful for was fire kindling. But then again, he was getting paid for binding a cat book.

shaking his head, he decided to stop arguing with himself, and instead took a minute for his breathing to slow, and took stock of his situation. It had taken him a full hour just to get to the stupid place, he was cold, and hungry, and that damned cat was probably trying to break into his house right now. He needed to hurry and get his money so he wouldn't die of starvation at such a young age. Suddenly his eyes went blank, and he stared calculatingly at the door. He couldn't remember if he wanted to die or not, but he was pretty sure the answer was still yes. He relaxed again. So why was he worrying. He had lots of time. Let the cat eat, maybe he would die on the walk home. At precisely five pm, he raised a bare hand to knock on the wooden door, a hand already on the book in his bag. He was expecting some old guy, or maybe a crazy lady with a love for cats.

[Eastern Orange]

T H I N K I N G | S P E A K I N G | H E A R I N G

My favorite brother is currently with his stupid slut gold-digger girlfriend, like always, ignoring his flesh and blood for a piece of ass; my favorite sister is currently drunk off her ass somewhere; and I don’t give a flying fuck about the rest of ‘em. Leaving me alone, in my room, reading about the digestive system of insects, bored out of my fucking mind. Insects only get so interesting.

I was just contemplating jumping out of the window when there was a knock at my door. I sit up excitedly, hoping it was Julian. “What?” I call out, making myself sound annoyed. One of the maids entered. I don’t know her name, but I know she was one of the ones I have tried to get in my bed. She was one of the few that has refused. I scowl at her, disappointed that it wasn’t Julian, and angry at myself for hoping it would be. She blushes deep red and stares at the floor. “There is someone at the door for you, Mr. Scott.” She squeaks out. I cock an eyebrow. “Who is it?” I can tell she wants to leave and feels terribly uncomfortable, so I want to make her stand as long as possible. “Uh, it’s a boy. He has a book for you.”

“A book, huh? What kind of book?” She looks like she is on the verge of tears. I smile inwardly. “I-I don’t know sir. I can go ask.” Here is my chance. I screw up my face in disgust, and sigh exaggeratedly. “God dammit! What do you mean you don’t fucking know? Do your fucking job!” The maid flinches, and steps out of the room, but doesn’t go anywhere. She can’t, until I dismiss her. “What is that point of you working here, if I have to do your fucking job for you? I’ll deal with this myself, go clean a vase or something!” I snarl at her, and violently gesture for her to leave. She scampers away. I smirk at the empty doorway, but I don’t feel any rush of satisfaction, or pleasure.

I sit around in my room for a while, making the boy downstairs wait. Eventually though, I get up and go downstairs. I slowly make my way to the front door, and throw it open. Outside, a boy around my age holding a small book. I hold my hand out for it. “What’s it about?” I ask without any preamble. I get books on a whim, and from everywhere, so this could be any one of the books I ordered.

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[gamemaker kelsier]

S P E A K I N G // T H I N K I N G

At his knock, the door opened a few moments later to a pretty maid. He instantly smiled at her, as one does in greeting, but she only looked down in a timid response. It was a bit odd, but everyone had their problems, and Tristan was no one to judge. He explained his errand, and she softly closed the door, presumably to get her master or mistress. While he waited, Tristan studied the windows above him, arching his neck back, wondering why someone would need such a large house. He had a one room shack, and that was good enough for him. He was able to live easily enough, so why would someone need so many rooms? A moment later he thought of the answer, figuring that they needed room for all their cat books.

Tristan jumped a bit in surprise at the violent opening of the door. A moment ago, it had been a pretty young, timid thing, and now he thought he knew why she had been so shy. The boy in front of him was a bit scary, in the way his mouth curled up into that sneer. He took a step back, feeling a tiny bit stepped on, as if this boy's personality was reaching and weaving itself into Tristan, pushing him backwards, yet pulling him onward. He shook his head, to try and clear the strange sensation from his mind. And he finally glanced up to look at the boy's face. It was a handsome face, with lovely eyes. They were a slate blue colour, as if someone had taken a bit of blue, and a bit of gray and had mixed them together to get a result of something exotic. For some reason it made Tristan blush. Well, okay, he knew the reason.

Tristan had been a bit strange ever since he was little, preferring to play Star's games than play with the neighborhood boys. he didn't like the roughhousing they did, and really much preferred the company of Star's friends. He was never one to like to get too dirty either, which was most likely a sign of his developing general panic at any dirt whatsoever. A few years ago it had dawned him that he was not into girls at all when Star tried to set him up with a nice girl. Really, it was the boys he had an eye for. So the fact that he was blushing was for the very known reason that the boy in front of him had an extremely nice body, and Tristan would very much like to take off his pants, and go for an exploration. These thoughts made Tristan blush further, so he looked away, and pulled out the book instead.

"It's about cats," he said a bit lamely in his stupid voice. He hated the way his voice sounded, because even that was a bit girlish. It wasn't very manly, being softer, and higher than most guy's his age. The sound of it made him cringe a little in dissatisfaction. He held it out to the other boy, not being able to stop giving a small smile of satisfaction at his fine work. He kept his blue eyes firmly focused on the ground however, or at least at the other boy's finely chiseled chin. It had a bit of a nice cleft in it, and it was a very nice chin. But if he did not look into the other boy's eyes he felt that he could probably keep from blushing. But at the same time, he couldn't help thinking that this would be the type of guy that Star would like. She was always into tall, dark and handsome.

The thought of his sister once again made him somber, and the small smile disappeared as he stared off-handly at nothing. He was simply going to wait for his pay so he could make the stupidly long treck back to his house. He just hoped it did not get dark before he made it back, because Tristan was horrible at finding his way in the pitch black.