Soul Eater: Offspring, Chapter 2

Next they took us on a tour of the castle or at least a tour of everywhere that we were allowed. Professor Stein was right; some partnerships were obvious and immediate. The big guy, Bull Ratkin, and a tall skinny boy named Roy parted ways at the end of the day with a handshake and a promise to start training together first thing tomorrow. A short stout boy and a tall skinny girl had clicked immediately. And two girls that had never met each other became fast friends right away. I headed back to my dorm bed and flopped down in exasperation.
“You didn’t find a partner either, huh?” A perky voice that reminded me of apple cider asked from over on my left. I looked over, on the bed next to me was another girl flopped in much the same manner as I. She had thick curly brown hair and watery blue eyes. “Don’t get too depressed. You still have two days to find someone. If you start stressing now, you’re gonna psych yourself out. By the way, I’m Jillia Kozum. I’m a crossbow.”
“Ripper Albarn. I’m a scythe.”
“No shit! Really? That’s awesome.” She was obviously impressed. Being a scythe had its perks. Probably because of the title ‘Death Scythe,’ the stereotype was that all scythes were badasses. I smiled a little.
“Thanks, but it’s no good if I can’t find a partner.” I sighed and stared at the ceiling.
She laughed. “Well I’m not any better off than you. When was the last time you saw a crossbow shoot itself? But it’s like I said, don’t stress. It took my Dad like a week before he found a partner, but he did.”
“Your dad’s a Weapon too then?” I asked curious. Jillia seemed nice.
“Yeah, he’s a longbow. He’s retired now though. When he met my Mom the prospect of being a Death Scythe didn’t seem so nice. So now he’s hoping I’ll do what he never did.” Now she was the one sighing.
“Wow. Pressure much?” I asked and we laughed. I thought I might have made my first friend. If only she was a Meister, I thought, and then we’d both have partners. The next day we attended classes with the current students and did our best to socialize with all the other new students, especially the Meisters. But although I did feel a faint connection with some of them there was nothing strong enough to be called resonance. Even Jillia didn’t seem to be having much luck with finding someone. The second day went by without either of us finding a partner. By the third we were a little frantic. We did our best to expose ourselves to all the Meisters who didn’t already have partners, but nothing seemed to click. At least I wasn’t alone. I still had Jillia. However, even that changed at dinner that night.
We were in line for food in the cafeteria with the older students. It was kind of intimidating, but most of them seemed nice. The guy in front of Jillia reached back to get an orange off the shelf and bumped into her. He was a straight up jock, but the size of the dictionary he was juggling in one hand let us know that this guy wasn’t all muscle. He was very apologetic and before we knew it we were all chatting like good friends. His name was Karnino and it turned out that he was a second year Meister without a Weapon. No one had fit him the year before. He and Jillia resonated like crazy.
By the end of the night Jillia took a good long look at Karnino and said, “I think I’m your girl.” In any other situation this would have sounded weird, but Karnino got it.
“I think you’re right.” He answered and they went to go see Professor Stein that night about getting a dorm.
“Don’t worry, Ripper.” Jillia said to me before bed that night, “I’m sure that there’s someone out there for you. I mean look at Karnino, he had to wait a whole year, but here I am.” I nodded and forced a smile, but I was far from content. The truth was though, that even with the older students, and others my age, I just wasn’t feeling any resonance. I was really starting to worry. Was there something wrong with me? Was I un-partnerable?
That night I went to sleep agitated, I tossed and turned and woke up in a sweat, it was way too hot in there. Jillia was peacefully asleep in the next bed over, which kind of ticked me off. I tossed off the covers and got out of bed. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but I needed to walk, I thought that might help me quiet my mind. I didn’t even bother to put on shoes I just grabbed a thin sweater.
I wandered the halls until I came to a small courtyard. Somewhere someone was playing jazz music too loudly in another part of the castle. I sat down on a bench, but couldn’t stay still. I paced around for a bit. I stopped at looked up at the sky. There were no clouds, but the lights from all over Death City were too bright for me to see stars. Instead the sky was cast in a dull burgundy, it was depressing. The jazz music continued to play from across the building. I swayed from side to side, closing my eyes. When I was little I used to take dance classes. Mom had wanted me to be a ballerina. Now I merely danced for fun. My swaying turned to stepping, picking out the pieces of a swing number. I danced with an imaginary partner. But then suddenly I felt a hand light on my waist and another politely taking my leading hand. My eyes peeked open slowly, half expecting no one to be there and deeply embarassed. It was a boy, probably about my age. Tall, thin, and blond. He spun me into a dip.
“Sorry to butt in on your imaginary partner and all, but you just looked so silly dancing her all by yourself.” He had a sarcastic voice. His eyes were dark green and his face held a slightly teasing expression. I didn’t respond at first, I just danced some more. I tried to come up with a sharp retort.
“That’s alright,” I finally answered, slightly suspicious, but too tired and shocked to be rude or witty, “I didn’t have a partner in mind, so you shouldn’t feel guilty.”
“Oh,” His response betrayed the fact that my lack of a rise had thrown him off. We danced for a moment more, “By no partner, do you mean you don’t have a dance partner? Or do you mean you don’t have a Weapon partner?” He looked at me with a politely questioning expression, but without looking like the answer really mattered. I wondered if he was an older student or if I just hadn’t met him yet.
This entire experience was pretty surreal but I answered him anyway, adopting his half-teasing tone, “Well I’m a Weapon myself, but I don’t have a Meister partner, or a dance partner.” He nodded and spun me again.
“You’re a pretty strange girl to dance here all by yourself.” he looked straight at me, the frankness of his stare was slightly unnerving, but he didn’t scare me, I got the feeling that he was testing me out.
“Well I guess I am pretty strange, and silly, but I’m not going to apologize to you for it.” I stopped dancing and stepped a polite distance away from him. Something was different about this boy. “You’re a strange kind of guy to start dancing with a girl just out of the blue when her eyes were closed.”
“I guess that’s just the kind of person I am,” He explained. We stood there for a few minutes without talking.
“Are you a student here?” I broke the silence, thinking that I should say something.
“I am now. I’m a freshman. But I got here too late for orientation. I might even be too late to find a partner.” He smiled wryly, silently suggesting.
“Weapon or Meister?” I asked.
“I’m a Meister.” He answered me, “My name’s Bad Luck.”
I looked at him blankly, “Are you serious?”
“Sure am. What? Is it that bad?”
“Yeah, kind of.”
“Well my real name’s Caleb Smith. But that’s got to be the most boring name on the planet, and my brother calls me Bad Luck, so I thought I’d adopt that name as a Meister. I’m registered as Bad Luck Smith. You can just call me Luck if you want.”
I bit my lip to hold back laughter, “Ok, Luck. My name’s Ripper, Ripper Albarn.”
“Nice to meet you, Ripper. Should I even ask about the name?” He jabbed. I smiled sarcastically. I could feel it now; our soul’s wavelengths were meshing. It was like two gears that fit each other. Every once in a while the gears slipped, but for the most part they worked perfectly. I wondered if he felt that too. We stared at each other for about a minute before he spoke again, “I think you should be my partner. I think that the kind of person that you are, and the kind of person that I am might work well together.” He let those words hang in the air for a while and then held his hand out. I bit my lip and took it, we shook.
“I think you might be right, we will work well together.” He smiled. I grinned. We stood there for a bit and then arranged to meet up at the final orientation meeting the next morning; there we would talk to Professor Stein about getting a dorm. I made my way back to bed, wondering if when I woke up the next morning the events of the night would turn out to be my subconscious teasing me. But somehow I thought that it must have been real. I mean, “Bad Luck?” I definitely wouldn’t have dreamed that one up.

Gandor Chapter 2

She lay there, on her thin cot, covered by thinner blankets. She could see through the dirty window-pane that it must be a bright grey day outside. The kind of day when fish-mongers and chestnut peddlers would be out on the street hawking their wares. It was the kind of day that was a time for work and not play, when families in this lower district huddled together at night to keep warm. But for Adela, there was no family, and she reasoned, soon there would be no need for one. She could feel the fever eating away at her from the inside. It was unlikely that she would survive the night much less another day.
She writhed on the cot. She had been lying there for who knew how long. She wanted desperately to get up. Well why not? A little voice whispered from the back of her mind, It’s not like you have anything to loose, I doubt you’ll even live long enough to regret it.
“Your right.” Adela whispered to herself, “I should get up and go out, for one last time.” Getting up was easier said than done, but after much effort Adela was able to get herself up and to the door. She held one of her thin blankets around her shoulders over the calf-length grey dress she wore. She leaned momentarily on the door-handle and took several deep breaths before turning the knob and stumbling outside. The light was much brighter than it had appeared through the grimy window and Adela had to blink several times before her eyes, used to the dim light of the apartment, could adjust. She drew shallow ragged breaths and leaned against the wood-slatted wall of the building for support as she walked. There wasn’t much to see, just the alleyways and back streets of the poor section of town where Adela lived. But coming out wasn’t really about the scenery, it was about that one last act of defiance against the disease that was killing her. Her last rebellion against death.
Adela trudged along without a plan for stopping, she rounded corners, and staggered down alleyways where there didn’t seem to be people. She didn’t want to be stopped by anyone, concerned or otherwise. Also, there was no sadistic wish inside her to infect other people, to pass on the curse that she carried; she simply wanted to walk, alone, until death came to get her.
Finally she reached the breaking point, where she could not walk any further, and so she sank to the alley floor and leaned against the brick wall. The sky was just beginning to darken and the building cast the alleyway in shadow. Adela closed her eyes and waited. But fate, or death, did not smile on her. For a few moments after she sat down, a group of people, all young men, entered the alleyway. They were obviously drunk, even in this time of prohibition, and they talked in boisterous rowdy voices, using crude, slurred language. Adela’s face contorted in distaste, and she hung her head in an attempt to go unnoticed by this group.
“Heeeey there!” the voice came.
Oh no. Adela thought.
“Weeeell, what’s thiiish?” the sloppy words were closer and jeers and cat calls from the others began.
Hasn’t fate dealt me a cruel enough hand? Why this? Why now? A sticky set of fingers grabbed her by the arm and lifted her up. Adela opened her eyes to see an unshaven, leering face with heavy eyebrows and bloodshot eyes. His breath reeked of booze and smoke, his teeth were yellowing. He pulled her face close to his own. One last shot of survival adrenaline coursed through her veins and she tried to pull away from her assailant. But her body was just too weak, and he merely jerked her roughly back, slamming her into the wall. The blanket fell softly from around her shoulders. The other men in the group were obviously hoping to get in on whatever was about to happen, and they pushed closer. The thug holding on to Adela laughed manically and grabbed at the front of Adela’s dress, ripping the buttons open, and exposing her brazier. He was just shoving his hand down onto her breasts and thighs when a shout came from the other end of the alley.
“Hey you! Bozo, get your hands off the lady.” The voice was that of a young man with a strong New York accent. The man and his friends were momentarily stunned by the appearance of a rival, and Adela struggled in the drunkard’s grasp to try and see who was talking. He was dressed in a simple grey-green suit with a beige fedora. His hands were in his pockets, and he appeared unarmed. He was medium build, small but strong looking. His face was young and mischievous at first glance, but there was a hard gleam in his eye, and the sober set of his mouth told the gang that he was completely serious. Adela wanted to tell him to forget it, she was done-for anyway, and that she wasn’t worth five to one odds. But she didn’t. And he took a few steps forward.
“I said, Get. Your. Hands. Off. The lady. Or didn’t you hear me? Last chance.”
“Who in Hell are you?” The drunken guy holding on to Adela demanded, suddenly a tad more articulate. He took his groping hand off her body, but grabbed her by the upper arm and jerked her along with him as he turned to face the young man. Adela fell on her knees beside him.
“I’m Firo Prochainezo of the Martillo family, not that you need to know. All you need to know is that I’m the guy telling you to leave the lady alone, or regret it.” He spoke with a twang that almost sounded like he was teasing them, but that, like his mischievous looks, was underscored by a real threat. The thugs laughed.
“Like you’re gonna do anything to us, kid. Get lost, mind your own business.” The assailant answered him.
The man sighed, “Well, I tried to warn ‘em.” He said to himself, “But … then again. I’m not sure that they even deserved that chance.” And he walked forward a few more steps. The thug yanked Adela upward and at that moment the young man’s fist collided with drunkard’s face. From that point he didn’t throw a single punch, he just seemed to play with them, rather like a cat plays with a mouse before eating it. They all came at him with everything they had in their inebriated states, but it didn’t do them any good. He threw them, dodged them, and used them against each other. He even threw in a few hat tricks. None of them stood a chance.
The fight ended with him sending the leader packing with a sound kick in the back. Adela half sat half lay on the ground, looking at the man who had saved her, and the unconscious bodies of two of the thugs who hadn’t managed to run away. He turned around and crouched down beside her.
“Sorry that took so long.” He apologized with that same hint of cheer; perhaps he was unable to banish it from his tone, “You alright? My name is Firo Prochainezo, Miss…?”
“Aeda...,” she was suddenly overcome by a fit of coughing and faintness. Was this death coming in full force of irony? She fell to her elbow, trying to face away from him; it wouldn’t do to get the man, who had just saved her, sick. “Please, don’t come near. I have a fever. I’m going to die anyway.” She looked up at Firo Prochainezo to make sure that he understood. But instead of fear, or revulsion in his face, all she saw was shock and an incredible amount of sympathy.
“Now, don’t talk like that!” Firo protested. He kneeled and lifted her up in his arms. “I’m not about to let ya’ die on me, just now that I’ve saved you.” He smiled and began walking.
“You shouldn’t.” was all Adela could get out as a protest.
“Yeah I should, and don’t worry about me. I don’t get sick.” Firo answered. Adela could no longer argue for just then she blacked out.

Milost: City of Grace. Chapter 2

The first time I ever saw Carter was at an AA meeting. Now, don’t judge, I wasn’t there for me. I’m not an alcoholic, and strangely enough neither was Carter. I was dropping of my older sister, Candy, there. Candy’s not really my sister; in fact we’re not related at all. But we grew up together, so I felt some strange sense of responsibility for her. I think my logic went along the lines of, I watched her get like this, so now I have to do something about it.
I had been a foster child and Candy’s parents, Ruth and Jerry Stone, took me in. Ruth and Jerry were great in some ways: very accepting and loving, but rather negligent when it came to things like underage drinking and drugs. By the time I came to live with the Stones in their flat in Portland Oregon, Candy was already pretty messed up. She was fifteen and had her finger in almost every pie you could think of, so to speak. She spent more nights out of the apartment than in it. But she was nice to me, mostly, so I felt a kind of sisterly affection for her that would later in life compel me to drive her through that crazy city to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings every Thursday.
The day I met Carter, was sweet and sunny, like honeydew. I had picked up Candy from the apartment of the guy she was living with, Arnie I think his name was, and we had driven through Portland to the church building where AA was meeting. Candy tugged at her black, studded mini-skirt nervously. She hated the meetings, but she seemed to really want to clean up this time, so she went, and I drove. I pulled my little, beat up Honda civic into the parking lot next to a flashy black sports car. I thought it looked suspiciously like the Batmobile.
“You’ll be here at six?” Candy asked me, reassuring her-self that she had an escape plan. Her big, heavily linered eyes stared straight at me with a look that reminded me of a scared bunny.
“Sure thing Candy. Don’t run off again though, ok? Since your cell coverage was canceled I can’t call you to find out who you’ve gone to get drinks with. So just wait for me here.” Candy sometimes forgot about little things like that. She nodded sheepishly and exited the car. Just as Candy opened the heavy red door into the back of the church and entered; a good looking black guy in a leather jacket passed her on the way out. Our eyes met, and I guess I must have been staring a little, cause’ he smiled good-naturedly and waved a little. I smiled and waved back, embarrassed. He went to the Batmobile-esque car and got in the driver’s side. Figures, I thought to myself.
He drove off too fast, threading his way through the jungle paths of Portlandia. I watched and wondered how long it would be before he was pulled over. I got a cup of coffee in a near-by shop as I waited for the hour of AA to be over and all the while I thought about the strange character in the black car. Something about him had struck my fancy and I whiled away the short hour imagining an exciting identity and life for him. By the time I was getting back into my car I had myself convinced that he was a secret military agent who was investigating the AA group that was simply a cover for the local mafia.
I waited outside the church for about twenty minutes for Candy to come out before I went in to look for her. The red back-door of the church was a huge metal industrial one, painted a dark-ish red color. I pushed against it determinedly, willing my muscles to get bigger; I was such a shrimp. But the weight became considerably less as the arm of the Batmobile driver pushed against it for me. I blushed.
“Thanks.” I stared at the floor, suddenly feeling a secret embarrassment for imagining him.
“No problem.” The driver’s voice was a pleasing tenor, rather spicy. “But if you’re looking for the girl in the mini-skirt that you dropped off, I’m pretty sure I saw her walking off with another group member.” I groaned inwardly. He laughed at me. I looked up at him. His face was round with a big happy smile.
“She the type?” He asked in a companionable tone.
“Sort of.” I answered, “She just forgets that I’m coming to pick her up weather she leaves or not.”
“Well, If it makes you feel any better, the person I saw her walking off with is my friend, who has left me hanging too.” I smiled ruefully.
“Any idea where they were going?” I asked him, half hoping he didn’t know.
“Not really. Anyway I don’t really want to go looking for him. Do you think she’ll be ok?”
“Oh, she has a bus pass. I just hope she doesn’t end up getting smashed and throwing up in a public bathroom.” He nodded.
“Well that makes two of us. Anyway, if Jared drinks he owes me his x-box for a week and a half.”