• Memory • A Father's Pride

[Volker]

10th of Ashan, 674

Volker had waited three days for his father to return.

Three long days sipping water from the rain barrel and burning through his mother's food stores. Empty glass jars with the ant-infested remains of peach preserves littered the floor of the little cottage he'd once called home. He had barely moved from a spot on the rug by the window, propped up on a stool with his dirty face staring at the glass. His only entertainment was the world outside the window, which amounted to little more than trees and the edges of Almund, and watching the reflection of his mother's bloated body swinging. The noose was cut into the corpse's neck, and she'd turned black and distended with bacterial gases. He'd found her finger and toenails on the floor the other day, and his life's background noise was the dripping of juices off her feet.

He'd tried to get her down. She'd tied the rope securely to the rafters and cut it short. To untie it, he'd have to climb. To cut it, he'd have to be taller. Tugging on her leg had just resulted in the flesh wetly sloughing off and hitting the floor in a cloud of flies and slime. He wasn't trying that again. He had little choice but to leave her there like some strange bloated caricature of the woman who'd wept over him. He'd not shed a tear for her. The last bruises she'd given him still peppered his shoulders and back.

It was a small miracle she hadn't strangled him in the crib.

Volker had taken out his frustration on animals. Stray cats and dogs he would beat to death and skin. The ragged, half-cured hides he'd sold to local butchers for cheap leather. The tiny bit of nel from that side business kept him from freezing or starving when his mother locked him outside. Apparently, some weeks she just couldn't stand the sight of him.

She was hanging there now, and he was here staring out the window waiting for someone who claimed to be his father to come back. He rubbed at his cheeks, where the deep cuts of his father's jaws itched in healing. The way he was picking at them, they'd become scars, but no one was around to tell him not to. The wound on his chest had already healed and turned grey. Even so, Volker still questioned whether what he had dreamed was real or not. The dream had been so vivid and signing their contract so real. He could feel something there, in the back of his head, that wasn't there before. Like a lump in his mind he could prod and poke at. Recently, it had become more active as of late. He could feel things. Emotions. Not his, but someone else's, coming through that connection.

'You're not crazy, and you didn't hallucinate. I'm here, kid.'

Volker shot up out of the stool like he'd been burned and whipped around. Rats and roaches feasting on the rotten flesh he'd pulled to the ground scattered at the sudden movement. He squinted through clouds of blackflies, and through it walked something dead. For a split second he thought it was his mother come to life again, bloated and rotting, but it was much more delicate than that. This dead thing looked almost papery, dried and dehydrated. The clearest thing was the glowing in its chest, which pulsed red.

'Again, not crazy. You met me already, in the dream.' Oor crouched down in front of him. 'See? Nothing to be scared of. Honestly your mom looks a damn sight worse than me right about now. Can we get you out of those clothes? Your neighbors are going to come investigate the smell soon.'

Volker frowned suspiciously. "You were with him." he said shakily, reaching out a hand to try and touch the corpse. As expected, his hand went right through it. He frowned, and pulled back his hand to look at his fingers. "How do you know I'm not crazy? Isn't that something a crazy person would say?"

'Fair enough. But since we're going to be together for a long time now...and your dad left me in charge of you...if you believe me in me, I'll believe in you.'

Volker nodded and rubbed his eyes to get the flies away from the corners of them. Oor sighed and gestured. 'Come on. There's a stream nearby. You'll be alright. We just need to learn to take care of each other.' the Harvester said, wandering to the door of the house. Volker got up and toddled along behind him, reaching to grab his hand before realizing there wasn't anything there to grab. Oor glanced at it, sighed, and offered his hand again. He mimicked holding someone's hand, and Volker mimicked holding it. It felt better. Leaving that house in a rush of fresh air and flies, and realizing how thick the air in there had been. He squinted a bit at the sunlight, and grunted.

'First lesson, kid.' Oor told him. 'We don't communicate through sound. I can hear you in your head just fine, but I can also hear everything else. Your random thoughts are going to drive me up a wall. Harvesters don't talk to one another, want to know what we use? Our bodies. You can communicate a lot just by the way you stand. That way, you don't have to look crazy talking to yourself, and I don't have to deal with bits of fucking songs you have in your head.'

"How?" Volker couldn't imagine it.

'No simple answer to that one. Let's start with getting you a fucking bath. I've smelled abattoirs that were daisies compared to you right now. When you need me, just kind of...reach through our connection with yourself. You're...not yelling for me. It's projecting yourself toward me.' Oor explained. 'I can't be out all the time.'

"Why? You're leaving?" Volker stopped walking, and withdrew his hand. He wasn't going to play like this. He wanted...an adult. Something. Not shades and dead men telling him what to do. He hadn't known such a thing was possible, but he missed his mother. She at least would have slapped him upside the head and told him what to do. The spirit made a frustrated noise and came back to kneel in front of him. Volker only came up to about his stomach at his age.

'I'm not here to boss you around, kid. But people hate me. What I am. I can't be around 24 hours a trial. It won't be pretty. But I'll be near you whenever you need me, and whenever you call. I will never leave you. Not willingly.' Oor told him. 'Unless you refuse to bathe. Come on. Bath time. And the second we get around to finding another kid your size, we're going to burn those clothes.'

"There's a boy who lives down the road." Volker looked over his shoulder to the aforementioned road. "He hits me."

'Yeah well judging by all the bruises on you he's not the only one. You get those chewed up fingernails getting dragged through a door?'

Volker nodded and rubbed the cuts on his cheek. 'Stop that. They'll get infected. Well let me tell you one thing about the little shit down the road...Rheinhard. Rheinhard? Seriously? Did your mother hate you or something?'

"Yes." Volker sniffled a bit.

Oor suddenly regretted that bit of teasing. He cleared his throat. 'I'm just going to call you by your last name, ok? Because that first name's a fucking nightmare. But hey, that little shit down the road doesn't know what's coming. You inherited a great power, kid. The power to make him piss his pants and beg for his life. You're going to break his kneecaps and make him drag himself over gravel.'

Volker blinked. "How do I do that? He's bigger than me." he mumbled.

'I'm bigger than him.' Oor grinned. 'Aren't I?'

A little smile graced Volker's face. "Yeah...I guess you are."

[Volker]

Date

Volker found the freezing cold stream, bathed in it, and tried to wash his clothes the best he could. They still stank horrifically of the dead, but the stream washed away some of the dead flies and stains from attempting to take his mother down. He washed the dirt off of his skin and the oil out of his hair, though he had to do it to Oor's standards. The Harvester was a little more stringent as far as what 'clean' actually was, and he was frighteningly thorough. Thorough enough that by the time Volker got to shore, shivering and clutching his clothes, he'd rubbed himself bright pink. Oor nodded in satisfaction. 'Fucking hell, finally. Has anyone given you a bath before?'

"Mom just made the bath for me." Volker admitted, pulling on his damp clothing and shivering. It was still too early in Ashan to be that warm, and both the water and the ground under his feet were half-frozen. He shivered and rubbed his arms. "L-let's go get Edmund's clothes now."

'I'm sorry what was that fucking name? Is that the kid who beat you up?'

"Edmund?"

'Holy fucking Immortals we should kick his ass just for having that name. You let an Eddy get the better of you? Someone my former master sired? Well shit, that stops today I'm going to tell you right now. Where's he normally at this time of day?' Oor asked. The spirit looked positively incredulous. He had his skinny arms crossed over his glowing chest, and he was looking up at the sky like he was blaming it for the situation he found himself in.

"He's by the pond. It's...not too far from here. He likes to break the ice on the water there."

'Real genius, isn't he? Well, let's go. Come on, sooner you get moving the sooner you get warm.' Oor gestured at him. Volker stared for a moment before he realized he was meant to be leading the Harvester. He bit his lip and started walking...and discovered that Oor had been speaking the truth. He more he walked at this brisk pace, the warmer he felt. He hurried along a little more; he was more tired this way but he was also warmer and warmer was better at the moment than anything. They emerged through a copse of trees and Volker could see the pond in the middle of the clearing. Sure enough, the larger boy was there throwing rocks into the pond to break the last of the Cylus ice. He was only two arcs older than Volker, but almost half a foot taller. Volker hadn't had the benefit of eating whenever he'd liked.

'Right, so what I want you to do is put your hands in front of you.' Oor instructed. He'd vanished, but Volker could still hear him in his head. He did as he was told, feeling a little silly. 'Now, project yourself into your hands. Coalesce something there. It will look like a small bubble, maybe the size of a large marble. If you can make it bigger, great.'

Volker squinted, and pushed forward into his hands. At first, he didn't feel anything. Then something surged through his arms, tingling through his fingertips and focusing in his palms. He pushed again, and there it was. A little bubble, like someone had made charcoal soap, turning listlessly just above the skin on his palms. He stared at it.

'Now, what I want you to do is hold it in one hand. Just...sort of shove it into one palm.' Oor instructed. Volker tentatively did so, and found he cold hold it fairly easily cupped in his right hand. 'Now walk up to that little fucker...and throw it in his face.'

"It's just a bubble! He's going to flatten me!" Volker protested, but found himself walking toward Edmund nonetheless.

'Who's the otherworldly nightmare here, you or me?'

"You?"

'Exactly. See? He's noticed you. Just...get close, and throw it.'

Volker wasn't sure about this. Edmund had definitely noticed him, and an evil little smile had developed on the larger boy's rotund face. He had grown a little since Cylus, and he'd started to pack on muscle. Volker tensed. He was afraid. Edmund was going to throw him into the pond, or break his nose, or do something equally horrific to him. Even so, the second he felt he was close enough... he projected the bubble at Edmund's face. As predicted, Edmund seized the front of his shirt and opened his mouth to start in on their traditional abuse. That was when the middle of his face simply dissolved. The snide abuse came out as a strangled scream, and he flung Volker away from him. His nose was gone. In its place was a bleeding mass of flesh like Volker had simply scooped it off his face.

Volker didn't need prompting this time. The second bubble took out Edmund's left eye. It popped and ran down his face like egg white, and it was Volker's turn to grin.

'You kids have fun now. Throw the body in the pond.' Oor said lightly, and out of the corner of his eye Volker saw him materialize a few feet away.

[Alistair]

Volker

Knowledge
Skill
Aberration: Oor, a Harvester.
Aberration: Making your first orb.
Aberration: I'm always here.
Aberration: A fine weapon for flaying your enemies.

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Renown: N/A

Points 10

Comments: Oh lord, this thread was eye opening. Um. That wasn't a reference to the kid's eye, either... promise. I don't know what to say other than, "well done, you wrote the gritty feeling of Aberration pretty well". Good stuff. And I know that Volk is dead, but I'm still giving him rewards because this was a well written thread and he deserves it!