Chapter 1 - The Moonshine Made Me Do It
— Writings Of A Certain Black-Haired Girl I —
I read today that power is like poison for the soul, a curse that consumes its purity.
Is that really true though? Perhaps power is not a corrupter of men, and perhaps it's merely a mirror of the soul, merely revealing what hides behind the reflection—the monster wakes, the charade withers.
Could it be that for a wicked mind its shape is that of a pale skinned beauty, round hips and a thin stomach. For in my experience at least, there are not many things more mentally burdensome than a suppressed nature…
— Negative Side Effects —
A splitting headache was not among the most pleasant things to wake up to; add nausea and general weakness. Take it one step further with a cold sweat and the rejection of liquids. Then sit with it a while; have a glass of water perhaps, admire the grand rhythm of your precious heart as it pounds away like a rabid rabbit in heat…
Poison…Let there be no doubt—I have been poisoned! And it's all that bloody imbecile's fault.
Let's go out drinking he said, it will be fun he said; let's raid Fat Bob's cellar and drink his moonshine, it will be fine he said—bastard. And though technically we had not gotten caught so the implied meaning was fulfilled; I am not fine, and in fact, I don't think there exists a worse state of physical discomfort than the one plaguing me now.
Still, even with that said, it is not even the clear alcohol poisoning itself that currently bothers me the most…No, but instead and most certainly it can only be the flooding half-memories of its making that are currently defiling my mind…
— Narrator —
It was a cramped room with four beds, two of which were presently occupied. Where on one of those creaking contraptions, covered by a raggedy linen blanket, laid the suffering boy. Sweating profusely his curly black hair drenched to the point where it looked like it had been dipped in a lake moments prior. Furthermore his face which was normally quite handsome; was now bloated and dabbed with a bilious color.
Meanwhile, lonely rays of sunlight were pushing through a small hole in the dilapidated ceiling; delivering traces of light into the otherwise-dark-room; striking the boy straight in the eye; worsening his mood further, inducing a groan as he turned to his stomach, pulling the small blanket over his head and exposing a pair of surprisingly hairy legs in the process.
…I guess I'll need to fix that bloody ceiling soon. Sure, I could just ask Hermie to do it, Aeons know he'd deserve it, but putting that gigantic fool up there might not be the brightest idea. Even if it would doubtless be a joyous sight seeing him crashing through the roof and bruising his ass…
…Actually, the old wooden hut that particular boy lived in had four beds total. And currently from the other side of the room he could hear heavy breaths filled with rasp; coming from the bed of a tall and sturdy boy with long blond hair and a wide-nosed, soft-looking round face—contently snoring the morning away. All the while his friend was suffering beside—possibly dying. However it was hard to find time for outwards-facing anger, or pointed blame for that matter. He had bigger fish to fry, and right now; his chief feud was of an internal nature.
¨Fuck, fuck, fuck.¨ The black-haired boy suddenly vocalized, his mind breached by a certain hazy memory of an attempted kiss during the morning sunrise, about thirty minutes before he had passed out in his bed, and about thirty minutes after he had heaved in the bushes…
During that self-reflective moment of mental and physical suffering, the half-broken door could be heard creaking slowly open. Light footsteps reached his ears, and soon after the boy felt someone sit down on the edge of his bed.
¨Damien, how are you feeling?¨ inquired a gentle sounding high-pitched voice of a girl; whom the boy recognized as his taintless roommate: Liline; though incidentally, and due to last night's undeniably shameful behaviour; she was just about the last person Damien wanted to talk to right now.
¨Like a bloody leper… How much did I drink last night? I honestly can't remember a thing, but I think I might be dying,¨ the boy muttered tenuously, while feeling Liline pull his blanket down slowly; observing the familiar girl sitting there with a gentle smile plastered across her deer-esque freckled face, meekly holding a large mug of water between her two pale palms.
¨I'm not quite sure. A lot?¨ the demure girl informed and watched as Damien greedily snatched the wooden cup from her hands, beaming at the boy's enthusiasm, she continued; ¨you disappeared with Hermes at some point, and when you two came back—well, you were really drunk I suppose.¨ The girl contemplated pensively; then, she instigated firm eye contact with the boy - who was in the midst of a quenching action,(struggling to meet her eyes from behind the large cup,) - as her magnetic, round eyes of deep blue ignited with disarming sternness; ¨I really hate you when you're like that you know.¨
Damien lowered the now empty wooden cup, giving an affirmative nod; though just as he was about to explain his recently-acquired disdain for alcohol consumption, he learned of a possible side-effect associated with heavy-drinking: the rejection of liquids.
His eyes performed their best impression of an owl, and he could already feel the diluted acid surging up and crazing against the roof of his mouth, threatening to burst through his closed lips like some blasted waterfall.
He frantically pointed towards the ground beside; where from the visibly-alarmed Liline swiftly retrieved a rusty and dark-gray metal bucket; which the boy briskly snatched from her grip with frankly the uttermost urgency, and abruptly painted it in sick—once, twice and three times, then a fourth, and finally, the fifth torturous ejection consisting purely out of air. Well, at least unless you counted the dripping rope of persistent vomit spit which clearly didn't want to separate with his lip…
And Incidentally it was also just then that a thin-faced handsome boy with long brown hair and bright hawk-like eyes announced his presence from the direction of the dilapidated door with a compassionless jest, ¨want me to hold your hair for you princess?¨
Damien's face sprung up as he grunted something incoherent; his languished eyes of grayish green depicted a baleful stare; whereas the handsome boy only sneered confidently in turn.
Seeing this, Damien reckoned that he might turn murderous soon. Since quite simply, he was in no mood for that pompous bastard's vexatious commentary and/or irksome remarks.
Fortunately though, upon noting the rising tensions and imminent conflict, the observant red-haired girl found herself acting as the mediator; calmingly patting out the figurative flames with her delicate hand, and consequently putting an end to that palpable steam rising from Damien's scalp; ¨shush Adel, can't you see he's really suffering.¨ Liline said calmly, coupled with a disappointed shake of her head…Her actions prompting the emergence of empathetic qualities on Adel's sculpted face; ¨right, I was just trying to lighten the mood,¨ he explained while simultaneously noting the sonorous snoring coming from the far-end of the room, causing his face to regain its prior exasperation. ¨Hermes wake up you lazy lump!¨ he shouted out in that shrill voice of his.
¨Don't fucking yell! Please!¨ Damien ventilated loudly, sounding desperate while slowly and strenuously closing and opening his eyes like some blackout-drunk attempting to determine his whereabouts.
¨Right—right—sorry.¨ Adel whispered somewhat mockingly, each word quieter than the last.
Meanwhile, a sleeping giant shifted with a heavy groan in the corner of the room, lazily seating himself at the edge of his bed; ¨what time is it?¨ he mumbled while listlessly rubbing the crust from his eyes.
¨Past midday you big oaf. Here I've been, working my ass off ever since the morning sun started bleaching the bones of old Robert in his rusted cage. surrounded by idiots of course, as per usual.¨ Adel shared exasperatedly, intense eyes narrowed in judgement tortuously sweeping between the two hungover boys.
¨Shadap. We had fun, stop being so fucking serious all the time.¨ Hermes groaned, whimsically fanning the air with his bulky hand.
¨Well, some people take life seriously you know! But regardless, more pressing matters have taken shape; basically, it's a damn pandemonium out there, a total fucking helter-skelter if you will. Therefore if you don't mind, I believe this affords a discussion.¨ Adel informed, rapidly tapping with his finger.
Hearing the brown-haired boy's declaration, Damien looked up in confusion. The bunch of them, - minus Adel who hated fun, - had just been outside some eight hours prior; in that time, what manner of severe circumstances had occurred in order for Adel to seem so rattled and nervous.
Surveying the room while ignoring his worsening headache, he noticed both Liline and Hermes staring dumbly with evident concern. Ultimately, it was the girl who broke that brief silence. ¨What happened?¨
¨I'll tell you what happened, those viperish bastards inspire hatred once more! Gutted old Jarvil on the street, left him there to rot of course, and all because he couldn't pay his full rent for a few months. Bloody savages.¨
¨W-what?! Jagging Jarvil? He owed me money that bastard!¨ Hermes angrily grunted.
¨Is that what you're really worried about?¨ Lilene sighed; ¨this is the third victim in two weeks, not to mention it's actually a beloved figure this time—why aren't the people doing something?¨
¨Because they won't Lily, it's got nothing to do with them after all. They would rather sit and meekly watch the pillars crash around them than act in resistance, living hand to mouth. Those damned subservient bootlickers, too caught up in their outdated dogma to connect the dots…I just hope that when only the ashes are left they'll finally see that it was them who held the torch in their hands.¨ Adel furiously ranted
¨There can be no doubt anymore; we need to get out of here before winter comes.¨ Damien muttered with a thoughtful look.
Adel grunted disapprovingly; ¨a cute proclamation—a fancy dream, but how do you propose we finesse that?! We barely have the wherewithal to sustain us another week, let alone make the damnable journey south—bloody humbug if you ask me,¨ he harangued.
¨You have something right? A big one?¨ Hermes inquired with his childlike eyes staring intently at Damien's languid figure.
¨Not yet…I'll think of something. But for now, I would really appreciate some peace and quiet, I really need to rest. Bloody head is killing me.¨ Damien moaned, observing a snort from Adel as he prepared to make his exit.
¨And Adel, I've told you a million times, fix the bloody roof already,¨ he grunted.
¨Goblin's bollocks you've told me bob you inconsolate firestarter!¨ Adel vented, his face carrying a boatload of indignation.
¨Just fix the damn thing okay?¨ Damien sighed.
¨Fix it your own bloody self instead of sulking under the sheets like a little girl, I'm not your bootlicking errand boy!¨
¨Fine! If you're so against manual labour then fetch me a hammer and nails, I'll show you how it's done!¨ Damien angrily exclaimed, torturously dragging himself off his bed to his feet; swaying and shaking like a ninety year old woman in the absence of her trusty stick.
Seeing this, Adel's jaw relaxed as he for a brief moment observed the boy moving at the speed of ten steps a minute; ¨wolf's piss you're doing it! Have you gone utterly hardtack? You'll stumble and bring down the whole bloody roof.¨ Adel contemplated annoyedly, and after a defeated sigh, he continued, ¨fine, I'll do it then you damnable booze-seeking-bee.¨
Upon observing the sharp-jawed boy's dramatic exit, and despite his raging headache, a wide smile spread across Damien's face; which the nearby Liline observed, and with a hopeless sigh and a palmed face, she reminded Damien to take a bath when he wakes. Where after, she also made her swift exit, and concurrently, a loud thump could be heard from the giant's direction as he crashed back down, sinking deeply and comfortably into his bed…
So then, to come up with a plan eh? Finally growing conscious of his neuralgic headache, furthermore aggravated by the inundating chaos that had taken place prior, the boy decided against the option of immediate cogitation; instead electing to see if sleep could alleviate his torturous ailing; though that was also when loud footsteps could be heard from above, soon followed by a hammer's clanking bangs—roaring like thunder in his head, piercing his skull as the stabbing pain amplified and mixed with the cacophonous medley—cruelly snatching his rest.
…I really didn't think that through did I? Haah…