Post by Kale on Oct 29, 2006 16:57:20 GMT -5
It'd been a long time since any of them had seen the outside. For quite some time the children - those foolish enough to return- had remained inside. And for good reason one could only assume.
In there minds, it hadn't been fair. In the middle of doing whatever is had been they were doing at the time, they'd simply had to drop everything and leave. Sure, spending time in a castle had been great...until - upon asking - they were told they...wouldn't be returning home.
The first to simply say "Fuck that," had been Fathom. After all, it was in her nature to be disputatious, and the thought of having been removed from her home permanently didn't settle well with her.
Infact, it hadn't settled well with anyone of the children - save those to young to really remember having lived in the house for a long time.
When the first few children dissapeared, it had - obviously - sent Kale into a panic attack. Said panic only worsened when more and more of her darling went missing ; simply dissapering off in the night and never returning.
What had once been a large family of 51 children, was now down to about 20 not counting the 13 who didn't live with her, and the 7 hidden away within the broken down walls of the Maelstrom Manor. Which would acount for 11 dead children, if one bothered to do the math. It would be a waste of time to list said deceased children, so we shall continue.
--
A cough echoed through the relative darkness of the old home, a cough that sounded as if it would tear the cougher into shreds. Chilly air and frosty snowflakes blew in through broken windows and inbetween the tattered old curtains. Every inch of the home was covered in thick dust, betraying the fact there were still living residents in this home.
The sound of gentle crackling could be heard from the large living room, where a meger fire burnt low in the fireplace - several figures huddled around it. Or more so huddled around said person who had coughed not more than seconds ago.
Again the boy coughed, the many silver and black nails in his ears clinking together as his head flew foreward slightly. Nails shuddered, leaning back into the small crowd of his siblings, hugging the ratty brown excuse for a blanket tighter around him. He sniffled, whining under his breath about how badly he wanted his mother.
"Logan!" Snapped Fathom suddenly, from her position far from the others - shuddering off by herself in a far corner of the room. Her arms were crossed over her chest, hair messy and eyes ablaze with some form of enimty towards no one in particular.
One of the children turned around, blinking large amythest eyes at Fathom. Logan's tail - oddly not fox, nor wolf, nor bird nor...anyother creature - twitched before wrapping tightly around her legs; only covered by shorts and boots. Logan did not speak, though, simply looked at Fathom and waited to hear what the girl had to say.
"Why'd you bring the whiner here? He's such a baby; he won't be good for anything!"
~Would you shut up?!~ Lock snapped - though only in thought- whipping her head around. Unlike the others, all relativley young in age, Lock was one of the older children. Almost an adult, actually, and held a look of death about her. Her skin was white like snow - and the shadows that fell on her skin were grey-blue in color, matching well with her navy blue hair. One could only mark her as a an offspring of one such person whos name should never be mentioned. Her eyes were unseen, hidden behind her thick hair or perhaps not there at all, but the abbundance of rage towards Fathom that filtered outward was enough to make the air thick with tension. And although Fathom, being the first to arrive, had staked her claim as the leader of the small rag-tag band it was clear who had the real power.
Shuddering against the cold, a silence fell among the children as they heard a sound near the front door. Curiosity caught the best of them, and their gaze fell to the curtain strewn across the entrance to the living room - a failed attempt at keeping in their megre warmth. Turning her attention back the the others, Fathom nodded her head to let them know to snatch up anything near them that could be used for protection. So many times already they'd had to fight off intruders (perhaps why they were dwindling in numbers) that had wished to rob their home.
The children slid silently away from the doorway, all silent and nervous as hell as the intentions of who or what was entering - or attempting to enter- their home.
In there minds, it hadn't been fair. In the middle of doing whatever is had been they were doing at the time, they'd simply had to drop everything and leave. Sure, spending time in a castle had been great...until - upon asking - they were told they...wouldn't be returning home.
The first to simply say "Fuck that," had been Fathom. After all, it was in her nature to be disputatious, and the thought of having been removed from her home permanently didn't settle well with her.
Infact, it hadn't settled well with anyone of the children - save those to young to really remember having lived in the house for a long time.
When the first few children dissapeared, it had - obviously - sent Kale into a panic attack. Said panic only worsened when more and more of her darling went missing ; simply dissapering off in the night and never returning.
What had once been a large family of 51 children, was now down to about 20 not counting the 13 who didn't live with her, and the 7 hidden away within the broken down walls of the Maelstrom Manor. Which would acount for 11 dead children, if one bothered to do the math. It would be a waste of time to list said deceased children, so we shall continue.
--
A cough echoed through the relative darkness of the old home, a cough that sounded as if it would tear the cougher into shreds. Chilly air and frosty snowflakes blew in through broken windows and inbetween the tattered old curtains. Every inch of the home was covered in thick dust, betraying the fact there were still living residents in this home.
The sound of gentle crackling could be heard from the large living room, where a meger fire burnt low in the fireplace - several figures huddled around it. Or more so huddled around said person who had coughed not more than seconds ago.
Again the boy coughed, the many silver and black nails in his ears clinking together as his head flew foreward slightly. Nails shuddered, leaning back into the small crowd of his siblings, hugging the ratty brown excuse for a blanket tighter around him. He sniffled, whining under his breath about how badly he wanted his mother.
"Logan!" Snapped Fathom suddenly, from her position far from the others - shuddering off by herself in a far corner of the room. Her arms were crossed over her chest, hair messy and eyes ablaze with some form of enimty towards no one in particular.
One of the children turned around, blinking large amythest eyes at Fathom. Logan's tail - oddly not fox, nor wolf, nor bird nor...anyother creature - twitched before wrapping tightly around her legs; only covered by shorts and boots. Logan did not speak, though, simply looked at Fathom and waited to hear what the girl had to say.
"Why'd you bring the whiner here? He's such a baby; he won't be good for anything!"
~Would you shut up?!~ Lock snapped - though only in thought- whipping her head around. Unlike the others, all relativley young in age, Lock was one of the older children. Almost an adult, actually, and held a look of death about her. Her skin was white like snow - and the shadows that fell on her skin were grey-blue in color, matching well with her navy blue hair. One could only mark her as a an offspring of one such person whos name should never be mentioned. Her eyes were unseen, hidden behind her thick hair or perhaps not there at all, but the abbundance of rage towards Fathom that filtered outward was enough to make the air thick with tension. And although Fathom, being the first to arrive, had staked her claim as the leader of the small rag-tag band it was clear who had the real power.
Shuddering against the cold, a silence fell among the children as they heard a sound near the front door. Curiosity caught the best of them, and their gaze fell to the curtain strewn across the entrance to the living room - a failed attempt at keeping in their megre warmth. Turning her attention back the the others, Fathom nodded her head to let them know to snatch up anything near them that could be used for protection. So many times already they'd had to fight off intruders (perhaps why they were dwindling in numbers) that had wished to rob their home.
The children slid silently away from the doorway, all silent and nervous as hell as the intentions of who or what was entering - or attempting to enter- their home.
