She was young and pretty and sick. Lillian Gandor, the third daughter of Ricky Gandor and his wife Jeanette. It was 1932 in New York City and the prohibition had given birth to a dark mob mentality.
New York was dominated by the members of the Camorra Martillo family and their cohorts. There were others, rivals who periodically challenged the Martillos, but these were few and were usually too busy feuding with themselves to pose any true threat to the Martillo. However, there were a few Mafiosi families who had aligned themselves with the Martillo, and as such, had gained substantial sway over certain areas of the state. The Martillo operated something like a spider-web of people, all over the country. They dominated the world of organized crime in the USA, or as the FBI called it, the American crime Syndicate.
The Gandors were one such Mafiosi Family in league with the Martillos. Connections between the two families went all the way back to their Italian origins. The Gandors of Italy had strong connections to the Camorra of Naples and by association, the Martillos of New York. When the Gandors began to immigrate to America back in the 1890’s they were warily (as is always the case with the Mafia) welcomed by the Martillo. But they received no immediate integration into the Martillos’ world. The Gandors started out independently. While being careful not to encroach on Martillo turf the Gandors began their own ring of bootleggers, protection rackets, and other shady dealings. In the world of organized crime they were the successful independent business.
Over the next five years the Gandor Empire began to be successful enough to cause even the Martillo genuine concern. Two large criminal powers would inevitably oppose one another eventually, and usually this conflict would result in the ruin of both organizations. Even now brief squabbles were breaking out between the subservient members of both families. One specific event caused particular trouble. One Aberto Gandor and one Renzo Giordano (a peripheral member of the Martillo) met in a neutral bar one night, words led to blows and before anyone really knew what had happened both young men had drawn knifes. It was a fight to remember regardless of which side you were rooting for. It lasted for hours, and resulted in the deaths of both participants.
Afterward a meeting was arranged between the head honchos of the Martillo and the Gandor families. It was a tense situation, no one knew who was going to come out of that room alive, or if this event would cause an all-out war between the Gandor and the Martillo. But the Camorra head, Alfonzo Martillo was not a stupid man, nor was Giuseppe Gandor (the head of the Gandor family) rash. They and their constituents agreed that the deaths of Aberto and Renzo were a tragic event, especially between two families that were not truly enemies. They decided, that in order to preserve the peace between the Martillos and the Gandors they would instead, align their interests. Being on friendly terms was the best resolution for a tragic mistake.
Over the next thirty years this arrangement proved to be perhaps the best decision in the histories of both families. The Gandors and the Martillos operated as separate but friendly organizations, which gave them a unique advantage over many other criminal powers. The fact that the two organizations were on friendly terms was not widely known, which meant that the one family always had a wildcard up their sleeve. The Gandors never grew as numerous as the Martillo due to their preference for keeping the business in the immediate family, but the Martillos never lost the respect they had for the Gandors’ efficient and productive heads for business. The Gandors had a handle on the information industry.
As with every family, and especially the Mafiosi, secrets abound behind certain closed doors. The Martillo and Gandor families were no exceptions to this rule. But, though many were criminal in nature, there was one secret these two families shared that was different from the rest, and infinitely more dangerous. And this is where our story begins, in the year 1935, in the back room of a dingy apartment on the Hudson River, where there once lived the family of Ricky and Jeanette Gandor.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
A Completely Different Telling
Ladies and gentlemen please
Would you bring your attention to me?
For a feast for your eyes to see
An explosion of catastrophe
Like nothing you've ever seen before
Watch closely as I open this door
Your jaws will be on the floor
After this you'll be begging for more
Welcome to the show
Please come inside
Ladies and gentlemen
Boom
Do you want it?
Boom
Do you need it?
Boom
Let me hear it
Ladies and gentlemen
Boom
Do you want it?
Boom
Do you need it?
Boom
Let me hear it
Ladies and gentlemen
Ladies and gentlemen good evening
You've seen that seeing is believing
Your ears and your eyes will be bleeding
Please check to see if you're still breathing
Hold tight cause the show is not over
If you will please move in closer
Your about to be bowled over
By the wonders you're about to behold here
Welcome to the show
Please come inside
Ladies and gentlemen
Boom
Do you want it?
Boom
Do you need it?
Boom
Let me hear it
Ladies and gentlemen
[x6]
Soul Eater: Offspring
A rush of light and there it was. A soul. Floating before me, waiting to be devoured. My hand reaches out to take hold of it. I shove it into my mouth and swallow.
I’m on my hands and knees, panting, the rush, the power. I try and steady myself.
Standing up, and before I even know what’s happening, she’s in my arms, looking up at me with a face full of naked joy. I don’t even comprehend it. I whisper into her ear.
Back at the apartment, before anyone else even knows what’s happened to me. But somehow the events of the night have taken on a totally different sheen, and we’re seeing red.
Black blood boiling, panting, what are we doing? A small familiar voice of reason is speaking from the back of my mind. But for once, I’m trying to be like her, and I shove reason out the window of my mind. Is this a kind of madness?
Now she’s sleeping, half-on-half off me. I lie awake and reason has returned. How did this happen? Why did we do this? But I’m still feeling good and right now it doesn’t seem so bad.
Morning, Maka’s awake. A kiss. A pregnancy test, no stress.
Positive.
She leans on the doorframe. I sit on the bed. Madness, that’s what it was.
Before anything, I’m shouting. What have we done? Reason is screaming in my head. The presence inside of Maka. Black soul.
She’s so angry, tears are welling. Two words, “Get Out.”
“Mom, I don’t think I can do this.” I protested one last time. I adjusted the unoriginal grey-brown uniform and nametag and took a deep breath. Mom put her white gloved hand on my shoulder and turned me to look at her.
“Lilly, please. This has been what you wanted to do for the last sixteen years. Don’t give me that crap. You can do this, and you will.” I could tell that this was hard for Mom. She didn’t want me to do this, to enroll at Death Weapon Meister Academy. But she was using my real name, something she hadn’t done since I was ten, and she was reminding me of my own dream. I couldn’t back out now. I squared my shoulders and picked up my bag. I ran my fingers through my silvery white hair, it was unnatural for someone my age, but the truth was that was what I was born with. It hadn’t grayed; I’d just been born with white hair.
I hugged Mom hard. Her floor-length black jacket billowed around me. She squeezed me tightly and let go. “I’ll be here for break, and then we’ll talk about all the awesome things that you’ve learned. You might even be able to show me a thing or two.” We laughed. She began to walk away. I watched her back until she turned a corner off Main Street and was no longer visible. I sighed.
I faced the imposing Death Weapon Meister Academy gate and pushed my way in. The strange gatekeepers recognized my uniform as a non-threat, and allowed me through. My nametag read, “Ripper Albarn, Weapon.” I hadn’t always been called Ripper. My real name was Lillian Albarn. But when I was ten, and we found out that I had inherited my Grandfather Death Scythe’s powers as a Weapon, my Mother had nicknamed me Ripper. I had the ability to transform into a scythe if I wanted to, and with a Meister partner, I could help to fight the kishins (monsters who ate human souls) of the world.
I made my way up the large cement front steps of the academy to join the small crowd of other freshman. Most of their nametags read Weapon like mine, but a few read Meister. Not all weapons need a Meister to fight; some can do it on their own. There have even been Death Scythes that were able to fight all by themselves, like Justin Law. But most Weapons, like me, had to have a Meister partner to resonate with. I could see that the Meisters in the group were already eyeing the Weapons. One big guy whose name tag read, “Bull Ratkin, Weapon.” was chatting with several Meisters at once. But no one was really making moves yet; that wouldn’t start until after orientation.
Finally the huge double doors of the castle opened, and out stepped a tall cloaked figure. Lord Death! Murmurs broke out. Lord Death was about six feet tall and thin as a rail. But that was pretty much all you could tell about him from his appearance, because he wore a traditional black reaper robe that obscured his features. His white scull mask glared out on us imposingly. On either side of him stood the Thompson sisters. Though not identical in human form, every young Weapon and Meister had heard stories of the famed Demon Pistol Twins. Trained by Lord Death himself, as his personal Weapons of choice, these two Death Scythes were the stuff of legend. They stood, in identical black dress suits, staring out on the students with amused smiles.
“Welcome new Meisters and Weapons!” Lord Death called to us, his voice had a curious double tone. “My enrolling at this academy you have made a lifelong commitment. A commitment to keeping the balance of the world intact. Thank you. The road before you is a hard one, full of troubles, and joys. I have no doubt that you will all persevere and do well at the DWMA.” He bowed to us, we bowed back. “Please, would Meisters follow Liz,” he gestured to the twin on his right, “And Weapons follow Patty,” he gestured to the twin on his left, “They will take you to your temporary living quarters.”
We split into our respective groups and followed our twin inside and down the hallways of the school. I was one of few people not talking up a storm at that point so I’m pretty sure that I was one of few who noticed the third person who had come to the door with Lord Death. He had hung back behind Lord Death and the twins. He wore a black pin-striped suit, set off by a red tie. His face was shadowed, but I could make out a pair of dark red eyes and a soberly set mouth. He slouched, hands in pockets, aloof and apathetic. Overall he seemed to emanate a rather effortless cool. His hair was as white as mine. I watched, fascinated, as Lord Death turned to him and spoke, I couldn’t hear what he said over the din of the other students, but the pin-striped suit nodded, and disappeared through a doorway.
We were taken to a hallway full of dorm-like living quarters with industrial furniture and bunk beds. We dumped our luggage.
“It’s only temporary though.” Patty trilled in her ditzy blonde voice. She seemed awfully silly for a Death Scythe. It was hard to imagine that she had eaten over a hundred Kishin souls and defeated a Witch. “Most of you will pair up with a Meister partner and move into a dorm together. Won’t that be fun?” Pairing up…. The thought scared me halfway back home. There was apparently no real way to find a partner for sure, and some Weapons never found a Meister. I wished that I was the kind of Weapon that could fight by myself.
We were led on to a lecture hall where the Meisters were already seated, whispering to each other and being watched over by their twin, Liz. She fit my idea of a Death Scythe better. She was taller than her sister, Patty, and wore her long hair in a professional looking bun. We took our seats and waited.
Eventually, through the doors came four people, including the pin-striped suit. The light was better in here and I could see that he had a sarcastic face, adult, but not wrinkled, probably about my Mom’s age. His companions were a strange crew. There was an old man in a metal wheelchair with spokes looked like knives, a real live (or not) Zombie with blue skin and tattoos, and a Mummy in a nurse’s uniform. We all fell silent because the old man in the wheelchair was fixing us with the look of a scientist examining his new test subject, or perhaps it was the look that a vulture gives carrion.
Anyway, it freaked me out. Stay cool, I thought. He was a very strange character, wearing a dark turtleneck and slacks underneath a stitched up lab coat. His face was covered with stitches as well. But none of that was very strange compared to the giant screw that went in one side of his head and out the other. Some idiot behind me made a crack about “Screw Head” I covered my face with my hand in embarrassment. I peeked out from between my fingers. The old guy rolled himself behind the teacher’s desk and the pin-striped suit followed him. He must have said something funny, because the suit smiled, he had pointed teeth.
“Hello new students, my name is Franken Stein, Professor Stein to all of you.” The old man in the wheelchair wheezed at us, “I have been asked by Lord Death to give you all some pointers on how to get along here and introduce you to the staff, and otherwise orient you in general. Though I’m not sure why Lord Death asked me, I was never a very good student here.” That made my mouth twitch into a smile.
He gestured to the Zombie to his left, “This is Sid, he’s the teaching assistant, coach, and general handyman here at the school. If you have any questions after the orientation, he’s the one you should ask. Though I believe that he reserves the right not to answer.” He looked to Sid for confirmation. Sid nodded; he didn’t look at all like someone that I would want to ask questions of. “This is Nigus, she’s the school nurse. Yes, she is a Mummy, but that just means she’s good with bandages. If you get sick or injured in any way you can go see her. You’ve all already met the Twins, Liz and Patty. They are Death Scythes. Don’t ask them questions, don’t bother them. They have better things to do.” Finally he looked up at the suit who nodded, “This is your temporary Professor, Soul Eater. He is also a Death Scythe, but will be standing in as your teacher until we find someone to fill this post permanently. You may call him Professor Soul.” So he was a Death Scythe! I had been right. I wondered why there was no permanent teacher for this class. Then Professor Soul stepped forward with a clip board. He looked up at us in a way that made me think that he really wasn’t looking forward to teaching us. I resolved not to get on his bad side.
“Ok then.” He had a deep quiet voice, we all listened closely, “I guess I should take role, so that I know who all you squirts are, and we know that none of you have mysteriously disappeared since registering. When I call your name raise your hand, if I call you something that you would rather not be called, please correct me… politely.” We waited for him to begin. “Risha Acban?” a hand raised, “Christopher Agenis?” a hand raised and the freckled boy asked to be called Topher. Soul Eater nodded. “Tarna Alan?” a hand, “Lillian,” He stopped and seemed to stare for a long time at my name, “Lillian… is it Albarn?” His voice was different with my name, unsure at the pronunciation maybe.
I raised my hand, “Sir, I’m registered as Ripper Albarn; no one really calls me Lillian.” This was a bit of a white lie, but I didn’t want him to think that I had changed my name for no good reason.
He looked up at me and made eye contact. I swallowed. Keep it cool. His expression was unreadable but I felt his red eyes take in my thin body, pale complexion, nametag reading, “Ripper Albarn, Weapon,” and unnaturally white hair with a focused and analytical air. Professor Stein cleared his throat noisily. Finally he nodded and said, “Ripper… alright,” He moved on to the next name. I let out my breath quietly, what was that all about?
After a while the list was done with and most, if not all, of the students were accounted for Professor Stein began speaking again, “Well, now we get down to the important business. Would all Weapons, planning on completing their education here at the academy without a Meister partner, please follow Sid.” My heart began to beat a bit faster. He was about to talk about pairing up! A handful of students from the Weapon side of the room got up and warily followed Sid out the door. The rest of us nervously waited for Stein to continue. “You are all anxious to find your partners I take it?” Stein asked. We all nodded. “Well I’m sorry to say that there really is no exact formula for finding a partner. We don’t give you some kind of evaluation and then pair you with who we think will be best for you. We prefer to let you find your partners on your own. The next three days are going to be something of a free for all for you children. You will live together and have no particular duties except find your partner. You’ll see that some people will immediately find each other. Others will take longer. Depending on your soul’s wavelength it will be easier or harder for you to find a partner. If you do not find a partner by the end of the next two days, then you and I will talk about options. Very well, you are all dismissed.” Damn! I was worried that this might be how it was; I was no good at this sort of thing! What if no one picked me? What if I didn’t find a partner? I was a scythe; I had to have a Meister.
Would you bring your attention to me?
For a feast for your eyes to see
An explosion of catastrophe
Like nothing you've ever seen before
Watch closely as I open this door
Your jaws will be on the floor
After this you'll be begging for more
Welcome to the show
Please come inside
Ladies and gentlemen
Boom
Do you want it?
Boom
Do you need it?
Boom
Let me hear it
Ladies and gentlemen
Boom
Do you want it?
Boom
Do you need it?
Boom
Let me hear it
Ladies and gentlemen
Ladies and gentlemen good evening
You've seen that seeing is believing
Your ears and your eyes will be bleeding
Please check to see if you're still breathing
Hold tight cause the show is not over
If you will please move in closer
Your about to be bowled over
By the wonders you're about to behold here
Welcome to the show
Please come inside
Ladies and gentlemen
Boom
Do you want it?
Boom
Do you need it?
Boom
Let me hear it
Ladies and gentlemen
[x6]
Soul Eater: Offspring
A rush of light and there it was. A soul. Floating before me, waiting to be devoured. My hand reaches out to take hold of it. I shove it into my mouth and swallow.
I’m on my hands and knees, panting, the rush, the power. I try and steady myself.
Standing up, and before I even know what’s happening, she’s in my arms, looking up at me with a face full of naked joy. I don’t even comprehend it. I whisper into her ear.
Back at the apartment, before anyone else even knows what’s happened to me. But somehow the events of the night have taken on a totally different sheen, and we’re seeing red.
Black blood boiling, panting, what are we doing? A small familiar voice of reason is speaking from the back of my mind. But for once, I’m trying to be like her, and I shove reason out the window of my mind. Is this a kind of madness?
Now she’s sleeping, half-on-half off me. I lie awake and reason has returned. How did this happen? Why did we do this? But I’m still feeling good and right now it doesn’t seem so bad.
Morning, Maka’s awake. A kiss. A pregnancy test, no stress.
Positive.
She leans on the doorframe. I sit on the bed. Madness, that’s what it was.
Before anything, I’m shouting. What have we done? Reason is screaming in my head. The presence inside of Maka. Black soul.
She’s so angry, tears are welling. Two words, “Get Out.”
“Mom, I don’t think I can do this.” I protested one last time. I adjusted the unoriginal grey-brown uniform and nametag and took a deep breath. Mom put her white gloved hand on my shoulder and turned me to look at her.
“Lilly, please. This has been what you wanted to do for the last sixteen years. Don’t give me that crap. You can do this, and you will.” I could tell that this was hard for Mom. She didn’t want me to do this, to enroll at Death Weapon Meister Academy. But she was using my real name, something she hadn’t done since I was ten, and she was reminding me of my own dream. I couldn’t back out now. I squared my shoulders and picked up my bag. I ran my fingers through my silvery white hair, it was unnatural for someone my age, but the truth was that was what I was born with. It hadn’t grayed; I’d just been born with white hair.
I hugged Mom hard. Her floor-length black jacket billowed around me. She squeezed me tightly and let go. “I’ll be here for break, and then we’ll talk about all the awesome things that you’ve learned. You might even be able to show me a thing or two.” We laughed. She began to walk away. I watched her back until she turned a corner off Main Street and was no longer visible. I sighed.
I faced the imposing Death Weapon Meister Academy gate and pushed my way in. The strange gatekeepers recognized my uniform as a non-threat, and allowed me through. My nametag read, “Ripper Albarn, Weapon.” I hadn’t always been called Ripper. My real name was Lillian Albarn. But when I was ten, and we found out that I had inherited my Grandfather Death Scythe’s powers as a Weapon, my Mother had nicknamed me Ripper. I had the ability to transform into a scythe if I wanted to, and with a Meister partner, I could help to fight the kishins (monsters who ate human souls) of the world.
I made my way up the large cement front steps of the academy to join the small crowd of other freshman. Most of their nametags read Weapon like mine, but a few read Meister. Not all weapons need a Meister to fight; some can do it on their own. There have even been Death Scythes that were able to fight all by themselves, like Justin Law. But most Weapons, like me, had to have a Meister partner to resonate with. I could see that the Meisters in the group were already eyeing the Weapons. One big guy whose name tag read, “Bull Ratkin, Weapon.” was chatting with several Meisters at once. But no one was really making moves yet; that wouldn’t start until after orientation.
Finally the huge double doors of the castle opened, and out stepped a tall cloaked figure. Lord Death! Murmurs broke out. Lord Death was about six feet tall and thin as a rail. But that was pretty much all you could tell about him from his appearance, because he wore a traditional black reaper robe that obscured his features. His white scull mask glared out on us imposingly. On either side of him stood the Thompson sisters. Though not identical in human form, every young Weapon and Meister had heard stories of the famed Demon Pistol Twins. Trained by Lord Death himself, as his personal Weapons of choice, these two Death Scythes were the stuff of legend. They stood, in identical black dress suits, staring out on the students with amused smiles.
“Welcome new Meisters and Weapons!” Lord Death called to us, his voice had a curious double tone. “My enrolling at this academy you have made a lifelong commitment. A commitment to keeping the balance of the world intact. Thank you. The road before you is a hard one, full of troubles, and joys. I have no doubt that you will all persevere and do well at the DWMA.” He bowed to us, we bowed back. “Please, would Meisters follow Liz,” he gestured to the twin on his right, “And Weapons follow Patty,” he gestured to the twin on his left, “They will take you to your temporary living quarters.”
We split into our respective groups and followed our twin inside and down the hallways of the school. I was one of few people not talking up a storm at that point so I’m pretty sure that I was one of few who noticed the third person who had come to the door with Lord Death. He had hung back behind Lord Death and the twins. He wore a black pin-striped suit, set off by a red tie. His face was shadowed, but I could make out a pair of dark red eyes and a soberly set mouth. He slouched, hands in pockets, aloof and apathetic. Overall he seemed to emanate a rather effortless cool. His hair was as white as mine. I watched, fascinated, as Lord Death turned to him and spoke, I couldn’t hear what he said over the din of the other students, but the pin-striped suit nodded, and disappeared through a doorway.
We were taken to a hallway full of dorm-like living quarters with industrial furniture and bunk beds. We dumped our luggage.
“It’s only temporary though.” Patty trilled in her ditzy blonde voice. She seemed awfully silly for a Death Scythe. It was hard to imagine that she had eaten over a hundred Kishin souls and defeated a Witch. “Most of you will pair up with a Meister partner and move into a dorm together. Won’t that be fun?” Pairing up…. The thought scared me halfway back home. There was apparently no real way to find a partner for sure, and some Weapons never found a Meister. I wished that I was the kind of Weapon that could fight by myself.
We were led on to a lecture hall where the Meisters were already seated, whispering to each other and being watched over by their twin, Liz. She fit my idea of a Death Scythe better. She was taller than her sister, Patty, and wore her long hair in a professional looking bun. We took our seats and waited.
Eventually, through the doors came four people, including the pin-striped suit. The light was better in here and I could see that he had a sarcastic face, adult, but not wrinkled, probably about my Mom’s age. His companions were a strange crew. There was an old man in a metal wheelchair with spokes looked like knives, a real live (or not) Zombie with blue skin and tattoos, and a Mummy in a nurse’s uniform. We all fell silent because the old man in the wheelchair was fixing us with the look of a scientist examining his new test subject, or perhaps it was the look that a vulture gives carrion.
Anyway, it freaked me out. Stay cool, I thought. He was a very strange character, wearing a dark turtleneck and slacks underneath a stitched up lab coat. His face was covered with stitches as well. But none of that was very strange compared to the giant screw that went in one side of his head and out the other. Some idiot behind me made a crack about “Screw Head” I covered my face with my hand in embarrassment. I peeked out from between my fingers. The old guy rolled himself behind the teacher’s desk and the pin-striped suit followed him. He must have said something funny, because the suit smiled, he had pointed teeth.
“Hello new students, my name is Franken Stein, Professor Stein to all of you.” The old man in the wheelchair wheezed at us, “I have been asked by Lord Death to give you all some pointers on how to get along here and introduce you to the staff, and otherwise orient you in general. Though I’m not sure why Lord Death asked me, I was never a very good student here.” That made my mouth twitch into a smile.
He gestured to the Zombie to his left, “This is Sid, he’s the teaching assistant, coach, and general handyman here at the school. If you have any questions after the orientation, he’s the one you should ask. Though I believe that he reserves the right not to answer.” He looked to Sid for confirmation. Sid nodded; he didn’t look at all like someone that I would want to ask questions of. “This is Nigus, she’s the school nurse. Yes, she is a Mummy, but that just means she’s good with bandages. If you get sick or injured in any way you can go see her. You’ve all already met the Twins, Liz and Patty. They are Death Scythes. Don’t ask them questions, don’t bother them. They have better things to do.” Finally he looked up at the suit who nodded, “This is your temporary Professor, Soul Eater. He is also a Death Scythe, but will be standing in as your teacher until we find someone to fill this post permanently. You may call him Professor Soul.” So he was a Death Scythe! I had been right. I wondered why there was no permanent teacher for this class. Then Professor Soul stepped forward with a clip board. He looked up at us in a way that made me think that he really wasn’t looking forward to teaching us. I resolved not to get on his bad side.
“Ok then.” He had a deep quiet voice, we all listened closely, “I guess I should take role, so that I know who all you squirts are, and we know that none of you have mysteriously disappeared since registering. When I call your name raise your hand, if I call you something that you would rather not be called, please correct me… politely.” We waited for him to begin. “Risha Acban?” a hand raised, “Christopher Agenis?” a hand raised and the freckled boy asked to be called Topher. Soul Eater nodded. “Tarna Alan?” a hand, “Lillian,” He stopped and seemed to stare for a long time at my name, “Lillian… is it Albarn?” His voice was different with my name, unsure at the pronunciation maybe.
I raised my hand, “Sir, I’m registered as Ripper Albarn; no one really calls me Lillian.” This was a bit of a white lie, but I didn’t want him to think that I had changed my name for no good reason.
He looked up at me and made eye contact. I swallowed. Keep it cool. His expression was unreadable but I felt his red eyes take in my thin body, pale complexion, nametag reading, “Ripper Albarn, Weapon,” and unnaturally white hair with a focused and analytical air. Professor Stein cleared his throat noisily. Finally he nodded and said, “Ripper… alright,” He moved on to the next name. I let out my breath quietly, what was that all about?
After a while the list was done with and most, if not all, of the students were accounted for Professor Stein began speaking again, “Well, now we get down to the important business. Would all Weapons, planning on completing their education here at the academy without a Meister partner, please follow Sid.” My heart began to beat a bit faster. He was about to talk about pairing up! A handful of students from the Weapon side of the room got up and warily followed Sid out the door. The rest of us nervously waited for Stein to continue. “You are all anxious to find your partners I take it?” Stein asked. We all nodded. “Well I’m sorry to say that there really is no exact formula for finding a partner. We don’t give you some kind of evaluation and then pair you with who we think will be best for you. We prefer to let you find your partners on your own. The next three days are going to be something of a free for all for you children. You will live together and have no particular duties except find your partner. You’ll see that some people will immediately find each other. Others will take longer. Depending on your soul’s wavelength it will be easier or harder for you to find a partner. If you do not find a partner by the end of the next two days, then you and I will talk about options. Very well, you are all dismissed.” Damn! I was worried that this might be how it was; I was no good at this sort of thing! What if no one picked me? What if I didn’t find a partner? I was a scythe; I had to have a Meister.
The Telling
Once upon a time there was a place called Milost. Milost is Czech for grace, because one day some idiot went there and thought it seemed to deserve a name that meant graceful. Of course Milost is only what we call it, the locals used to call it Trish du Fife which meant City of Canals in their language. But after the revolution they began to call it File Caruma which meant Water Glass, because of all the windows that were broken over the water, lining the bottoms of the canals with sharp sparkling shards. It wasn’t water you would want to swim in anymore.
Milost is a city, sort of. It’s a city in the sense that it is a large collection of very tall buildings in close proximity to one another. But it’s not quite a city because nobody lives there. So I guess it all depends on how you define the word city. Words are funny things aren’t they? Always trying to trick you into thinking they’re something they’re not. But let’s not throw the apple too far from the tree, shall we? The ‘city’ I’m talking about is predominantly grey. All the buildings are made out of concrete and the sky is usually a chilly, muggy overcast, like a cold sweat. All the signs and words are pale blue and any decoration or furniture that was left has mostly rotted away by now. And anyhow the inhabitants were a pretty monochromatic bunch so anything that has survived the last hundred years usually fits the color scheme.
I myself am not a huge fan of Milost. Sure I had some good times there, a laugh or two. But overall I would rather be safe at home. After all, I didn’t even really want to go there in the first place. It was Carter who convinced me to go. That’s why I’m writing this. Because if he comes for you one day, telling you that he’s been looking for you for ages and you’re the only one who can do this really important thing that he needs you to do for the good of the world; you need to know, don’t buy it. It’s not worth it, and he can find someone else to help him on his pointless escapade into the File Caruma. Also, the man lies through his teeth, convincingly, and he’s dangerous.
So, I’m pretty sure that I should start my story off the day I met Carter O’Malley, since that’s really when things get interesting.
Milost is a city, sort of. It’s a city in the sense that it is a large collection of very tall buildings in close proximity to one another. But it’s not quite a city because nobody lives there. So I guess it all depends on how you define the word city. Words are funny things aren’t they? Always trying to trick you into thinking they’re something they’re not. But let’s not throw the apple too far from the tree, shall we? The ‘city’ I’m talking about is predominantly grey. All the buildings are made out of concrete and the sky is usually a chilly, muggy overcast, like a cold sweat. All the signs and words are pale blue and any decoration or furniture that was left has mostly rotted away by now. And anyhow the inhabitants were a pretty monochromatic bunch so anything that has survived the last hundred years usually fits the color scheme.
I myself am not a huge fan of Milost. Sure I had some good times there, a laugh or two. But overall I would rather be safe at home. After all, I didn’t even really want to go there in the first place. It was Carter who convinced me to go. That’s why I’m writing this. Because if he comes for you one day, telling you that he’s been looking for you for ages and you’re the only one who can do this really important thing that he needs you to do for the good of the world; you need to know, don’t buy it. It’s not worth it, and he can find someone else to help him on his pointless escapade into the File Caruma. Also, the man lies through his teeth, convincingly, and he’s dangerous.
So, I’m pretty sure that I should start my story off the day I met Carter O’Malley, since that’s really when things get interesting.
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