| Quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it? |
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Post by solomon on Jun 20, 2015 9:24:52 GMT
 | say goodbye
to flesh & blood |
The grove was sparse; just a clump of young beeches at the crown of a grassy hillside. The trees formed a crescent opening to the forested farmland below, looking down on geometric fields, tangled trees, and dirt roads cut deep in sod. In the middle of the grove, a single grey stone rose out of the ground at an angle. An air of quiet lay over the grove. A breeze set the ends of branches swaying, and leaves pattering and rustling, carrying the sounds of a distant village in miniature. Usually this place was deserted. But today, a man from some distant city stood above the stone, eyes fixed on the inscription.
Solomon Nystrom. Cherished Son. Born -. Died - .
Solomon took the cigarette from his lips and read his epitaph through a cloud of smoke.
It wasn't five days since he had recognized this stretch of land from a hilltop near the village. The realization that he knew this place, that he had seen it before, had stopped him like a blow. This place... he knew it from a memory. Abbi hadn't understood what was happening, why he had started to run, or where they were going. Neither had Solomon.
By the time he saw his old home from afar, memories were coming fast and thick, like raindrops. Little flashes and glimpses. Faces. Snippets of laughter. Closet doors closed tight. Whispering.
Breathing deep, Solomon drew at his cigarette. Ever since that day, these strange emotions were growing stronger. He had noticed them before. Ever since Abbi took him in... since Solomon had started to protect her... Something shifted. Worries and cares (even happiness) moved beneath the surface like river water under rotting ice. Solomon observed them in his detached way, and wondered at them. He cared about Abbi. And, when he observed his father and mother from afar, he had felt a surge of a painful emotion which he couldn't name: cold and strong like a flood, razor-sharp. Bittersweet. It was better, though, not to see them. Let them remember him like this: a cherished son. Better their child were dead than a monster.
ooc: bleh.
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Post by SIMEON NYSTROM on Jun 20, 2015 20:06:37 GMT
 fire was red, flaming spread “blazed with light.” solomonWell, today had certainly been an eventful day. Not one that he'd like to repeat, tell ya that much. First he'd found an accident while he was running and he had to stop and help them get to a healer. Then, when he got home, he was forced to endure the awful clutter of the apt where Rhys was doing his studies on pure hearts. And as a side dish, while he was going to get food for the two of them to eat the stores were all out of cigarettes. How the hell does something like that happen? How could they be all out of cigarettes? Usually he replenished his supply early so that he didn't have to go a day without his cigs, so he still had a couple boxes left, he just wasn't very happy that they were all out. Perhaps... he had bought them all? Nah. He remembered leaving several last week, and he only went through one box a day. So someone else must of taken the rest. Right now he was making his way up to his friend's grave. He visited him every week, twice. The rest of the days he was working in the evenings so he didn't really have the time. But Solomon was important to him. And no matter what anyone had said about him, he would always be Simeon's friend. With a cig hanging out of his mouth, smoke drifting off the butt, Simeon made his way up the hill to the grave. However it didn't take him long to notice that someone was already up there, and when he got closer he immediately knew who is was despite the change in dress code. He stopped right behind the stranger, eyes wide but hidden by his black rimmed, red goggles, body unmoving. No... It couldn't be. He was dead after all... Wasn't he? What was he even doing here? He was even too shocked to say anything, the cigarette continued to hang out of his mouth, but with a lot less attitude about it. [ NOTES NONE | I SEE FIRE SONG BY ED SHEERAN ] |
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| Quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it? |
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Post by solomon on Jun 23, 2015 5:05:41 GMT
| say goodbye
to flesh & blood |
Solomon didn't hear Sim coming until his footsteps - dull on thick sod - came up right behind him. At once, the Nobody turned. A thread of smoke drifted from the tip of his cigarette.
A young man stood close by, staring. His expression was one of disbelief; clear despite the goggles which hid his eyes. Shocks of wine-red hair spilled over his forehead and brushed the bridge of his nose. Solomon's eyes narrowed. The angle of his jaw, the way he held his shoulders, and even that look on his face seemed familiar. Familiar but indistinct, like a face in a dream. And yet, Solomon couldn't remember ever meeting him before.
Solomon fought back a strange sensation. He felt vulnerable, exposed; aware of what this person might think of him, hunched and staring, goggles wide and round like the frightened eyes of a little child. Or the morbid-curious eyes of someone grown. Never before had he borne the biting, bitter ache that came with being a freak: he just responded to the stares, the blows, kept his head down, understood their fears in his cold way. Why hadn't he remembered to put up his hood? Quick as thought, the Nobody smothered these emotions and looked back at the stranger with his old detachment and wariness. An attack didn't seem likely. Best to just leave now, though, before something unpleasant happened. Solomon nodded slightly. Then he turned to go.
ooc: sorry if this is difficult to respond to. simeon is going to have to speak first: i don't think sol would address him.
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Post by SIMEON NYSTROM on Jun 25, 2015 9:07:26 GMT
 fire was red, flaming spread “blazed with light.” solomonIt took him a couple moments to get over his sense of shock and he immediately studied the outfit he was wearing. Clearly not disturbed by it he couldn't help but feel rather confused as to why he was dressed the way he was. It certainly looked like Solomon. Much older, but still. He had the same eyes and facial features. He was about 80% sure that it was Solomon. Although he had absolutely no idea what state the man's mind was in, nor did he know if Solomon could even remember him. Then he turned and made to walk away. Simeon acted quickly, tensing his body he said. "Don't you dare walk away from me Solomon Nystrom. You can't escape this demon. I won't let you. How are you alive? They told me you were dead... What'd you do? Fall trap to the madness of fashion? Cause while it does suit you, Your clothes are just way too over the top to be something you'd wear on a daily basis. You look like something from a Halloween Character." He honestly didn't know how Solomon would react to him. While he wanted so badly to go run over and hug the crap out of him, he didn't look like the type that would want that kind of closeness anymore. He seemed distant and clammed up. As if someone had driven him deep inside a hole that he couldn't get out of. So he tried to use comical words instead. "I see you've also gotten into smoking. Thats a rather interesting coincidence I should think."[ NOTES NONE | I SEE FIRE SONG BY ED SHEERAN ] |
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| Quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it? |
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Post by solomon on Jun 25, 2015 19:39:30 GMT
| say goodbye
to flesh & blood |
"Don't you dare walk away from me Solomon Nystrom."
Solomon stopped dead in his tracks. "You can't escape this demon. I won't let you. How are you alive? They told me you were dead... What'd you do? Fall trap to the madness of fashion? Cause while it does suit you, your clothes are just way too over the top to be something you'd wear on a daily basis. You look like something from a Halloween character."
Simeon's words rolled right off his back. But that voice. Solomon knew it. Question upon question gathered in his mind like snow in a winter storm; they drowned out Simeon's sharp remarks and jokes. This person knew his name. And the more this wine-haired kid spoke, the more familiar the flavor of his speech became. The Nobody's aloof detachment started to melt away. Staring close through narrowed eyes, Solomon took a step toward the man he thought was a stranger. His cigarette hung loose between his fingers, dropping embers on the ground.
"How do you know my name? Who are you?"
Whoever he had been, and whatever he had done, this person knew something of Solomon's past life. Maybe, after all these years, Solomon would hear the story he had waited for so long. His own.
ooc: BLEHHH
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Post by SIMEON NYSTROM on Jun 25, 2015 20:29:50 GMT
 fire was red, flaming spread “blazing with light.” solomonOnce he got Solomon's attention he noticed that his cigarette had landed on the ground. With a huff he took his heel and stamped it out, he didn't want the nice grass around his friend's grave to light up. That would be awful. Even though the "dead person" was literally standing directly in front of him. Sadly, it appeared that he really had forgotten his memories. Before answering his friend's questions he slipped his fingers into his back pants pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes that was nearly gone. Simeon stared at its contents for a brief moment. Only two left today... Damn...He pulled one out, stuck it in his mouth and moved to place the box back in his pants pocket. Then, as he was gazing at the headstone at the top of the hill, he had absolutely no idea that he'd snapped his fingers. The friction caused the spark and a very small blaze of fire drifted from his index finger and onto the end of the cigarette. Then he flicked his hand and the air blew out the flame that had appeared and he took a breath. The smoke burned his throat as it went down and then came back up through his mouth. There were now a lot of questions and ideas that flooded his mind. How should he treat this. He couldn't be anyone other then himself. Only his self could help Sol get his memories back if possible. But he also had to be careful. He didn't want to say something that would get him into an unnecessary fight with his own big brother. "Relax, maybe if you ask me nicely I'll tell you. I'll probably tell you anyway, but its a long and crazy story, that even I don't know the details too."[ NOTES NONE | I SEE FIRE SONG BY ED SHEERAN ] |
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| Quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it? |
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Post by solomon on Jul 26, 2015 9:49:44 GMT
| say goodbye
to flesh & blood |
A flame flickered from Simeon's fingertip. Solomon watched with mild surprise. So. This boy controlled fire. Waiting for an answer, Solomon noted the quality of his cigarettes. Old-fashioned manufacture, good flavor. Strange that he would notice that at a time like this.
"Relax, maybe if you ask me nicely I'll tell you. I'll probably tell you anyway, but its' a long and crazy sotry, that even I don't know the details too."
Ask nicely? Solomon took one step forward, fighting back a faint striring of desperation. Why would this person hold back what he needed to know? Was this a game for him? Something crept into Solomon like the edge of a shadow.
-Don't toy with me.-
"I don't beg. Is that what you wanted?"
As he spoke, it was like Solomon watched himself from the outside. Startling. Curious, that edge in his reply. Curious and impolitic.
Every day now, some new trigger set off a wave of emotions, faint at first, but growing stronger like the tide. On the surface, Solomon seemed smooth and unmoved, like ice double-thick in the dead of winter. But underneath the currents eddied and spun. As faint as his emotions may have been compared even to Simeons', they were new to Solomon, and all the more potent for their unfamiliarity.
Perhaps he should have asked nicely. Solomon stood uncertain, wavering between new pride and strategy, between anger and a plea for answers.
"I apologize. I seem to be... on edge. Please, any information you have is valuable to me. I will listen to your story, if you consent to tell it."
ooc: no bueno. next one will be better.
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