Post by Thorfin Olgensen on Jan 7, 2010 16:01:33 GMT -8
“Hey, you, you look cold, stop shivering and get the fuck over here by the fire. I’ll tell you one thing kid; it never hurts to ask for a hand, ‘specially when you got nothing to lose.” The dirty, grizzled man of indeterminable age salutes with the can of pork and beans in his hand, “name’s... uh.... beans... yeah, you can call me that for now... Hey, what the fuck did I just say about asking for a hand when you need it huh? I’m not gonna teach the same lesson twice…” The young kid, maybe fourteen or fifteen followed the can of beans with his eyes, longingly.
“uh…” he gulps, “I was hoping, ser, that you would be so kind as to…” he gulps again, as if trying to steel himself, Beans waits patiently, “what I mean to say is, would you… share a little of that food with me… ser.” Beans raises his eyebrows, still waiting, “uh… please?” the kid finishes lamely, his pale skin flushing, 0his thick black eyebrows scrunching together in uncertainly, and also in shame. Beans laughs and hands over the steaming hot can, taking note of the dark stains around the boy’s eyebrows and forehead. The boy begins to eat the food in the can in a surprisingly delicate way. Well, surprising to anyone else who would be watching, not many things surprise Beans though, and this wasn’t an exception.
After a few minutes of silence, broken only by the soft scraping of plastic fork on tin can, Beans lets out a loud belch, startling the boy. He yawns and grabs a crutch, forcing his way up onto his right leg, his other stops at the knee, the rest of that pant leg tied in a knot. When he makes it to a standing position he stretches, “well, better set up camp, huh?”, he says, bending down with the help of his crutch and pulling out an old, slightly battered but still functional tarp from his pack, before speaking over his shoulder at the boy, “If your plannin to stay warm and dry tonight, I recommend you help me set this up, I don’t abide by no freeloaders, I’ll help none what can help themselves… or rather, none what can’t help me in return for a good halfa can of my favorite grub”
By this time it is getting dark. Now that the two have a surprisingly watertight shelter set up around them, and their own stomachs aren’t trying to eat them from the inside, Beans starts up conversation with the sullen looking teenager. He keeps an extremely keen eye on the body language, and the young one’s expression as he leans over and plucks a fine silvery white hair from the boys shoulder and says his next words.
“So, you’re a silver fang huh kid?” Ha, well that was easy[/i], Beans thinks as the kid suddenly jumps in his skin and looks terrified for a split second before he replies. “Wha-what are you talking about man? A silver what? I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude… I’m, I’m just a kid out on the streets you know? Just uh, running away from home, cuz my mom beats my dad when he gets drunk…”
“Oh…. Oh, yeah, say no more! I hear that all the time I do… moms beating dads… common story here on the streets…”
“Oh, jeez, I mean my dad beats my mom… look man, I think I should go.” The boy says, starting to get up.
A section of the tarp suddenly releases all of the water it was holding. The Water gushes off the side of the shelter and splashes into the dark alleyway. “Huh,” Beans smiles, looking out into the cloudy night sky with an exaggerated expression of distain, “well, guess you gotta do what you gotta do, but if I were you,” he sits back down, getting comfortable with his back against the brick wall, “I would at least stay and figure out what I know…. But you know, that’s just me….” He then winks at the kid and then stares up at the blue roof of their make-shift shelter, looking as innocent as a smelly, hairy hobo can look.
The kid looks at Beans, then at the dark foreboding alleyway, then at Beans again and finally sits down. “Fine”
“That’s the spirit! Now let’s see, I’m going to tell you my story first, then you can decide what you want to tell me of yours… course, I think I already know quite a bit of it…”
“I was born to the Shadow Lord tribe a metis, the product of two stupid, young garu. Both thought they had the other wrapped around their finger, neither loved each other. My mother, when they found out, they made her give birth to me, as punishment, and my father, well, I don’t know what ever happened to him but I doubt it was good.
She died during child birth and I was an orphan, not for long of course, Shadow Lords aren’t all that heartless, plus, it’s always useful to have a kid owe you something, 'specially when they grow up. Ha, I spent the first 16 years of my life playing their game, trying to prove just how much better I could be despite my ah, difficulties,” at this point Beans taps his left knee,
“I was the fucking perfect pawn I tell you, so eager to please, so willing to show those above me how I could step all over my peers. I was a smart, quick, and I could talk the fucking stripes off a zebra. I can’t believe it took me so long to realize how badly I was losing their game. Maybe I realized it all along, maybe I just needed the verbal praise I got.”
He pulls out a dirty, self rolled cigarette from somewhere now, and suddenly seems reflective on his past; there is just a hint of sadness in his eyes. Just enough sadness, the perfect amount in fact, for the young, impressionable Silver Fang to see. ‘Got him… oh he wouldn’t last more n’ a few weeks out here poor sap,’ Thinks Beans.
“Eventually I got it though, eventually I figured it out, or let myself figure it out. And I got mad; I got fucking tired of the entire manipulative BS constantly being flung at and around me my entire life, everyone thinking they are accomplishing something individually while they spoil the plans of another, no one really getting anywhere.”
He takes a drag of the cigarette for effect, but makes a bit of a sour face at the taste, you might get the impression he just smokes them because he figures its part of the image, course you could never be sure, not with him. “I know better now, I refuse to be anyone's pawn again. Course when I realized that this line of thinking wouldn’t get me anywhere in my tribe, and knowing I could never keep one step ahead of all my tribe mates trying to pull one over on me, I decided then to give them all a nice big "fuck you".
I finally figured out that the best way to end the kind subtle puppet show bullshit the Lords try and pull. It’s really simple actually, its not to try and out maneuver them, but to take a big, shiny, bright yellow chainsaw to the puppet strings, to throw a big fucking wrench into the gears of there delicate little plans that says ‘HEY LOOK, THESE GEARS ARE TRYING TO MANIPULATE YOU!’ HAHA…
huh… only difficulty lies in figuring out where those strings are and when best to send the chainsaw through to make the puppeteer look most stupid. Anyway, I up and renounced my tribe at that point, that’s right, you guessed it, to become a bone gnawer.
“Ah, the noble bonegnawer, they don’t give a damn about status, they don't manipulate, and they wear all of their flaws on the outside, where the shadow lords try and look as good as they can to everyone else, all the while brewing plots on the back, front and side burners. You know what I hate the most about that? It’s how they get away with it. I HATE that. In fact, right half my purpose in life is to end that shit, I figure on exposing the whole damn shadow lord tribe for what they are. What do you think about THAT kid? Huh?
“ I figure if I can get that fucking think tank of conniving sons of bitches to work together towards one goal, that’s better ‘n killin the few hundred famori I might get… ha, and probably just as dangerous. We all gotta find a purpose in life, kid, figure out our own path, figure out how WE might best serve gaia. Him, you listened to that story mighty well for a kid your age, born a gallard by any chance? Haha, thought so.
“Hm, now let me see here… I'll guess the rest of your story and we’ll see if we can’t figure out what your path is.”
“uh…” he gulps, “I was hoping, ser, that you would be so kind as to…” he gulps again, as if trying to steel himself, Beans waits patiently, “what I mean to say is, would you… share a little of that food with me… ser.” Beans raises his eyebrows, still waiting, “uh… please?” the kid finishes lamely, his pale skin flushing, 0his thick black eyebrows scrunching together in uncertainly, and also in shame. Beans laughs and hands over the steaming hot can, taking note of the dark stains around the boy’s eyebrows and forehead. The boy begins to eat the food in the can in a surprisingly delicate way. Well, surprising to anyone else who would be watching, not many things surprise Beans though, and this wasn’t an exception.
After a few minutes of silence, broken only by the soft scraping of plastic fork on tin can, Beans lets out a loud belch, startling the boy. He yawns and grabs a crutch, forcing his way up onto his right leg, his other stops at the knee, the rest of that pant leg tied in a knot. When he makes it to a standing position he stretches, “well, better set up camp, huh?”, he says, bending down with the help of his crutch and pulling out an old, slightly battered but still functional tarp from his pack, before speaking over his shoulder at the boy, “If your plannin to stay warm and dry tonight, I recommend you help me set this up, I don’t abide by no freeloaders, I’ll help none what can help themselves… or rather, none what can’t help me in return for a good halfa can of my favorite grub”
By this time it is getting dark. Now that the two have a surprisingly watertight shelter set up around them, and their own stomachs aren’t trying to eat them from the inside, Beans starts up conversation with the sullen looking teenager. He keeps an extremely keen eye on the body language, and the young one’s expression as he leans over and plucks a fine silvery white hair from the boys shoulder and says his next words.
“So, you’re a silver fang huh kid?” Ha, well that was easy[/i], Beans thinks as the kid suddenly jumps in his skin and looks terrified for a split second before he replies. “Wha-what are you talking about man? A silver what? I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude… I’m, I’m just a kid out on the streets you know? Just uh, running away from home, cuz my mom beats my dad when he gets drunk…”
“Oh…. Oh, yeah, say no more! I hear that all the time I do… moms beating dads… common story here on the streets…”
“Oh, jeez, I mean my dad beats my mom… look man, I think I should go.” The boy says, starting to get up.
A section of the tarp suddenly releases all of the water it was holding. The Water gushes off the side of the shelter and splashes into the dark alleyway. “Huh,” Beans smiles, looking out into the cloudy night sky with an exaggerated expression of distain, “well, guess you gotta do what you gotta do, but if I were you,” he sits back down, getting comfortable with his back against the brick wall, “I would at least stay and figure out what I know…. But you know, that’s just me….” He then winks at the kid and then stares up at the blue roof of their make-shift shelter, looking as innocent as a smelly, hairy hobo can look.
The kid looks at Beans, then at the dark foreboding alleyway, then at Beans again and finally sits down. “Fine”
“That’s the spirit! Now let’s see, I’m going to tell you my story first, then you can decide what you want to tell me of yours… course, I think I already know quite a bit of it…”
“I was born to the Shadow Lord tribe a metis, the product of two stupid, young garu. Both thought they had the other wrapped around their finger, neither loved each other. My mother, when they found out, they made her give birth to me, as punishment, and my father, well, I don’t know what ever happened to him but I doubt it was good.
She died during child birth and I was an orphan, not for long of course, Shadow Lords aren’t all that heartless, plus, it’s always useful to have a kid owe you something, 'specially when they grow up. Ha, I spent the first 16 years of my life playing their game, trying to prove just how much better I could be despite my ah, difficulties,” at this point Beans taps his left knee,
“I was the fucking perfect pawn I tell you, so eager to please, so willing to show those above me how I could step all over my peers. I was a smart, quick, and I could talk the fucking stripes off a zebra. I can’t believe it took me so long to realize how badly I was losing their game. Maybe I realized it all along, maybe I just needed the verbal praise I got.”
He pulls out a dirty, self rolled cigarette from somewhere now, and suddenly seems reflective on his past; there is just a hint of sadness in his eyes. Just enough sadness, the perfect amount in fact, for the young, impressionable Silver Fang to see. ‘Got him… oh he wouldn’t last more n’ a few weeks out here poor sap,’ Thinks Beans.
“Eventually I got it though, eventually I figured it out, or let myself figure it out. And I got mad; I got fucking tired of the entire manipulative BS constantly being flung at and around me my entire life, everyone thinking they are accomplishing something individually while they spoil the plans of another, no one really getting anywhere.”
He takes a drag of the cigarette for effect, but makes a bit of a sour face at the taste, you might get the impression he just smokes them because he figures its part of the image, course you could never be sure, not with him. “I know better now, I refuse to be anyone's pawn again. Course when I realized that this line of thinking wouldn’t get me anywhere in my tribe, and knowing I could never keep one step ahead of all my tribe mates trying to pull one over on me, I decided then to give them all a nice big "fuck you".
I finally figured out that the best way to end the kind subtle puppet show bullshit the Lords try and pull. It’s really simple actually, its not to try and out maneuver them, but to take a big, shiny, bright yellow chainsaw to the puppet strings, to throw a big fucking wrench into the gears of there delicate little plans that says ‘HEY LOOK, THESE GEARS ARE TRYING TO MANIPULATE YOU!’ HAHA…
huh… only difficulty lies in figuring out where those strings are and when best to send the chainsaw through to make the puppeteer look most stupid. Anyway, I up and renounced my tribe at that point, that’s right, you guessed it, to become a bone gnawer.
“Ah, the noble bonegnawer, they don’t give a damn about status, they don't manipulate, and they wear all of their flaws on the outside, where the shadow lords try and look as good as they can to everyone else, all the while brewing plots on the back, front and side burners. You know what I hate the most about that? It’s how they get away with it. I HATE that. In fact, right half my purpose in life is to end that shit, I figure on exposing the whole damn shadow lord tribe for what they are. What do you think about THAT kid? Huh?
“ I figure if I can get that fucking think tank of conniving sons of bitches to work together towards one goal, that’s better ‘n killin the few hundred famori I might get… ha, and probably just as dangerous. We all gotta find a purpose in life, kid, figure out our own path, figure out how WE might best serve gaia. Him, you listened to that story mighty well for a kid your age, born a gallard by any chance? Haha, thought so.
“Hm, now let me see here… I'll guess the rest of your story and we’ll see if we can’t figure out what your path is.”