A fools tale {Elegant; drought plot}

[cass]

P A V E L
{ tell me what you
k n o w }

The Captain told us all today that we were heading to district Eleven. He said that a drought had taken a great hold upon the land, that it had sunk its claws so deeply into the fabric of the earth that death had come. It was like a plague he told us, a darkness that was slowly encompassing every soul it could grasp. And soon it would have the people of both district eleven and ten. And soon there would be nothing (he didn’t say it so much in those words, a lot less poetic a bit more “raw raw death destruction, drought here here let’s save some people, but I’ve started this new book and it is really good. I’ve decided to start mimicking its way of writing, creating my words with elegance and ease and that poetic touch, not so much the grimy, spare me a moment edge). Anyway the Captian said we were to help out and set up and maintain order. But when I went to get off of the hover-craft with the other’s he lifted his great big brute of an arm and told me to stay.

Apparently I was going to be there for some other reason. To gather knowledge of the plants and the systems to help define a better way of growing the plants. He told me they were letting me take one of the Avox’s with all the equipment to do a series of experiments on the dry soil. Apparently with a little bit of scientific knowledge you could do anything. Apparently a little bit of science was all that was needed to bring the dry land back to life. I nodded my head, though, a series of ecstatic sentences quickly filling the air. The Captain blinked a few times, sighed and moved away. He always did that, he did, oh well.

I think I was supposed to be a little bit more excited about it all, but really I wasn’t much interested in going into district eleven to look at the soil. I wanted to be up near the irrigation system, learning how it all worked, fixing it and finding ways to make that more sustainable. After all I was an engineer as well as a Peacekeeper, I wasn’t dirt doctor. But I also wasn’t one t argue with what Captain Kirk said. In the end I gathered the equipment I would need and I headed to the back of the ship where I knew the Avox would be waiting with the rest of the stuff.

Moving around the engineering room I gave it all one last wistful glance, knowing that the next few days would be filled with not a lot of joy, but a lot of dust, dirt and choking on all of the above.

Rounding the next corner I halt, eyes flickering over the person that stood, hands gripping tightly to the bag of equipment.

“Erm, ‘cuse me, are you the Avox that will be lending me a hand?” I ask, dumb-founded by the sight of the pretty girl. A few moments of silence follow and only then does it dawn on me why the girl has not replied. All at once my face brightens, cheeks blooming with a bright red hue. I stumble forward, the words that follow at rapid fire a replica of my frantic heart, ”o-o-o-oh my, I am so sorry, I did not mean to say zat – well I did mean to zay it, I said it ofter all, but I did not mean what I meant by zose words, I wanted to simply ask you the question. It was not meant to be like zat. I mean I know what you are and what is wrong with you-“ Stop talking, stop, stop, stop, talking now.

I stare, mouth wide-open. The silence deepening. I was a giant fool. Just turn around and move, Pavel. I step forwards and scoop up the last bag. My embarrassment was the only thing that kept me going as I walked quick-smart back to the other end of the ship. Feet skipping over the metal railings, I stumbled a number of times in my hurry, and not once did I look back at the girl.

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[gamemaker kelsier]

A V O X
{ & all that glittered
was gold }

It has been decidedly good aboard the Enterprise. No one ever wanted to conduct scientific experiments on me and all I ever was required to do was run small errands for those on the bridge. My station was on the bridge itself and I have found that no one notices my presence as long as I maintain the proper Avox stance, head down and hands clasped. The only things that do tend to give me away are my various modifications. I cannot control the raging colour field that is my hair as it reacts to my thoughts. I'm sure people have noticed that my lips and nails always flawlessly match the crisp whiteness of my uniform. I've had the good fortune not to have to look anyone in the eyes, no one has seen my ticking clock or the stars that hide behind my iris.

It's lucky that most assume that Avox are stupid. A lot is said by the crew on the bridge, and I listen and learn their coded phrases and silly jokes. Although none of them know me, I have come to learn them precariously through the private conversations that they hold near my station or the way they shout during panicked moments. I am little more than a piece of furniture on this ship, however I am certain I could do so much more. There have been many moments where someone has shouted about this or that not working and in my head I have realized, "I can do that." There have been many tricky situations that the crew have found themselves on ground and needed someone light and flexible, who is trained well. "I can do that."

I could be so much more than just an Avox. However, I am happy with where I find myself, for once in my life. It is much better than a cage or appraising eyes. It is the easiest job on this ship, it's just boring.

Today, we are landed in Eleven. Usually my orders are to simply wait aboard the ship and assist the bridge members who have stayed behind. Today, the Captain of the Enterprise himself gives me his orders. I listen , head bowed as he tells me that I am to gather a list of specific equipment and then wait for the Navigator and young genius, Mr. Chekov. As the Captain speaks to me, nervousness shades the tips of my hair a brilliant pink. I try and quell it, annoyed that I have to find out from my hair how nervous I am. IT goes yellow instead. Great.

With a sigh, I get on with it. The screen he has given me has pictures of the items he wants me to collect, as well as the written word. In irritation, I swipe the pictures away, I do not need them. Scientific tools have been apart of my life ever since I can remember. They are collected in a matter of minutes and I am waiting, silent as ever in the designated meeting spot for the boy wonder to come along. Eventually I hear him knocking about. He never had to learn to move silently I suppose. His lack of grace is evident.

“Erm, ‘cuse me, are you the Avox that will be lending me a hand?”

I simply wait in silence, my cheeks going a deep shade of blue, most likely to match the embarrassed colour in my hair. I am used to people openly asking me questions, as if I could respond. I'm just not used to the questions being anything but rhetorical. This 'boy genius' seems to be waiting expectantly for some sort of response. I cannot give him one. I risk a look at his face and find that his cheeks have gone a lovely, natural red and he looks more than embarrassed. It would be funny if it weren't so awkward. He then bursts into a stream of words that attempt sentences but do not entirely agree with another. Not only does he stumble over himself, but his tongue can't quite keep up it seems.

"-I mean I know what you are and what is wrong with you-“

He stops then, cutting himself off. It doesn't bother me, him calling me wrong. I know that I am different, not right at all. I don't mind that he is happy to point it out. In fact his embarrassment curls my lips up into the tiniest of grins, I struggle to contain it, but my hair laughs along with the soft giggle that begins in the back of my throat. Shades of purples, pinks, yellows, greens, reds and blues dance briefly through my curtain of hair like a soft summer storm.

He has turned away, I pick the bag of items up and begin to follow him, the soft tinkling building itself up in the back of my empty mouth so happy that it is barely containable. He's walking away so fast that he's tripping over himself, I have never met anyone so worried to have offended me. He looks like a chagrined puppy. The third or fourth time he trips, I can't help myself and the laughter erupts. It's funny how much a tongue is not needed to keep one's laughter pure. I could get a whipping for this but there's not much other way of showing him that I'm not bothered. I know that my hair must be dancing with vibrancy around my head, the colours moving and changing as quickly as my mood changes. When I finally calm down, my hair is the purest white it's been in a while.

[cass]

P A V E L
{ tell me what you
k n o w }

I reach the exit of the ship almost falling a number of times – that would have been embarrassing, although nowhere near as embarrassing as my previous attempt to talk to the Avox. I kind of wish I knew her name, and if I hadn’t already made such a fool of myself I would have tried asking. But thinking back on it I think asking for her name would have upset her, perhaps. Does she even have a name? I wasn’t sure, and I could hardly ask her, well maybe I could. Could I get her to write it down. I bet it is a pretty name, as pretty as her hair. I reckon it would be. After all don’t all pretty girls have pretty names? I can remember that girl I studied with before I became one of the youngest peacekeeper’s ever recorded, she had a pretty name, she was also a beautiful girl. I think that is enough evidence to prove that hypothesis correct.

From what the Keptain has told me about the avox’s the ones he gets for the enterprise are the ones he believes have been wrongly tortured and forced into what they are. I believe him, I always have believed everything he says. After all he is the man that is in charge of my training, and also he reports every now and then to my superiors if I didn’t trust him I wouldn’t be on the enterprise. Besides he is a good man, after all. So I have no need for a moment to think upon what kind of crime this girl has committed (can pretty girls commit crimes?). She has done nothing wrong (like murder, right?); she was punished for something else – wrongly punished— ripred knows what. But I think that would also be a horrible conversation to bring up. Hell, why do I keep bringing up things to ask her, she can’t even talk.

Oh ripred this is such a conundrum. I turn around to face her, face still brightly lit with a crimson blush that traverses my entire face. I can hear her laughter and it only makes my cheeks burn, a hot flush that seems to fuel my stomach, because it churns with a nauseous twist. It was such a beautiful laugh. I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly trying to think of how laughter works with no tongue, I really shouldn’t be, because that’s as rude as me trying to have a conversation with her, knowing she cannot reply. Really, just thinking about the entire ‘no tongue thing’ is rather impolite of me. I should really stop, even though it is so intriguing, because it really is. The scientist part of me wants to know how it all works, but the little schoolkid, the teenage boy knows that I am being stupid and rude. So I try my best to banish such thoughts from my mind.

It takes a number of attempts before I can force myself to look up at her face once more and I can’t help, but let out the tiniest of gasps. If her laugh was anything, put pleasing to hear her hair is just remarkable. I take back when I thought about her being pretty, in comparison to the large array of colours that dance across her head all I can think is beautiful. I can’t help but watch as her hair changes colour, one after another after another. At first I am struck, staring in amazement, mind trying to figure out how it works the scientific reason as to how her hair changes like the way it does. Stop, Pavel.

I look away for only a moment, using those few seconds t once more banish those last thoughts from my head about experiments and trying to figure out how it all works. In those few moments that I have turned my attention to my scuffling feet I have missed the last change of colour, because as I once more force my blushing face to look up at her, her hair has turned completely white. It is pure white, and it falls around her face like a cloud, but like not one of those clouds in the sky, because then that’d be weird. But at the same time like a cloud, because without it being like a cloud that is in the sky I could hardly describe it as a cloud. So, yes, it is like a cloud, but also not like a cloud, because it couldn’t possibly be, but it can’t not be at the same time.

”Okay, umm… Okay so, like, um, we are going to go out zere, and like, um collect some stuff and zen, er, do, er the research, on the , er stuff because I am like supposed to help this place out and er you er gonna help me with zat stuff.” I stutter. But then my eyes widen and I raise a hand in horror. ”Oh no! I don’t mean like you have to help me, you don’t if you don’t want to, if you don’t want to you can like stay here. I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do it all. Nothing like zat at all.” I shuffle my feet.

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