Post by Kitty on Apr 1, 2008 23:09:41 GMT -5
Yeah, stole the title from an image I did awhile back.... but I liked it and I couldnt' think of anything better.... so.... this little sereis will officially be the Origin of Ambition sereis XD
Yeah, this whole week my Osias muse has been all "Fine, you wanna know why I have issues, I'll show you issues!" :: Throws back story at dealer and goes and sit to be emo in a corner::
Yeah, so.... enjoy the first section of Osias' back story (Which has been to long in the making... x.x)
With dinner complete he dragged a stool over near the sink and climbed up on it carefully, not wishing to fall off. Standing straight and leaning, up on his toes, he was able to reach and turn the knob and start the water. He put the stopper in one side, added in a bit of soap and let it run for a few moments while he got down to collect the dirty dishes. He'd been raised with running water this far and it was something he didn't think strange at all, even if it was a rare household commodity in the Lowlands. He knew not everyone had it, he'd been to neighbor children's houses after all but .... they were better then other Lowlanders. Mother told him that almost everyday, and she wouldn't lie, not to him. She loved him and she'd never do such a thing. He, no, they deserved such things and everyone else deserved to live without them, they had inferior genetics after all. His family was a blessed line, the minimal rotting the entire family had was proof of such. He was going to great things one day and mother knew it.... that's why she gave him his name, Osias, Salvation.... great things indeed.
He smiled at his thoughts as he gathered the plates and silverware from the table that he and his mother had used tonight. He was a small child, even if he had been born in his bipedal form, and he had to stand on his toes to reach the table top. He was well practiced in this routine, it was one of his jobs and had been for several years. With her hands as they were mother couldn't wash dishes, so he did. He was ten now, and a little taller, so it was much easier. At least he didn't still have to drag that stool everywhere to get things gathered up, that had been such a pain! He began humming a somewhat somber sounding tune as he worked, mother liked to sing this one to him the most and he liked it... even if the words to the song were sad. Still humming he climbed back up onto the stool, not noticing it shifted a bit, and stood up, getting ready to place the dishes in the sink and shut the water off. The stool slid on a broken tile, tilting slightly and knocking him off balance. Standing on your toes wasn't exactly the best way to be when something like that happened and he wound up falling off and landing on the kitchen floor with a thud and a surprised squeak, the plates landing and shattering not long after.
He froze, short brown fur bristling, had anyone heard? He swallowed hard when he heard the sound of claws clicking on the tile behind him, he couldn't quite tell the mood she was in by just that and reluctantly turned his body to look up at his mother, but he didn't get to see more then a flash of brown before he was reeling backward into the tile and ceramic shards of the plates he'd dropped. Suits, he hated when she used her Spade ability when she was like this... it hurt more. His ears registered a thud behind him moments before he felt clawed, bandaged hands gripping the side of his face and pushing down into the the sharp pieces of former tableware. She was screeching something at him in broken common language, her words slipping to and fro between Spade and Common making him unable to understand half of it. Burnished gold visionaries widened briefly before returning to a normal, if not dazed state as he aloud his body to go limp, hardly feeling anything as she rubbed his face in the mess he'd made. This... wasn't mother, mother wasn't such a horrid, screechy woman.... mother was warm and kind and loved him ... he didn't like this woman. He wished she'd stay away forever, or, at least... he wished he knew the things that would trigger the change so he could make sure mother never went away.
He was roused back into a more conscious state when he felt the side of his face collide with the hard, cold floor. He couldn't contain the cry that sprang from his muzzle, a mixture of surprise and pain.... the impact had blurred his vision for a moment but... she wasn't touching him anymore? He was suddenly aware of a change in the atmosphere, a familiar change and then... a voice. Smooth and deep and most definitely male... and thoroughly oozing with charm, Saresh. He remained on the ground, laying on his side and, at first, trying to avoid looking at the form he knew so well. But he had that odd, creepy sensation running down his spine that he got when he was being stared at and he couldn't ignore it for long. He moved his head forward, becoming acutely aware of the piece of ceramic that had lodged it's self in his cheek, only to have his gaze line up with a set of eyes that were only a couple shades lighter then his own. As charming as the older rat's aura was, the look chilled him to the core. Mother called him her angel, her guiding light, especially with that handsome white, gold and red coat but.... Osias hated him. He hated him more then the women who had her arms wrapped around him and grinning in sadistic glee at what she'd done, pausing momentarily to hiss at the small form curled up and bleeding on the floor.
Those two were perfect together... that woman and that man... that man, that highlander, he'd never acknowledge as his father. There was something off about him, and Osias wasn't fooled but mother... she loved him, he made her happy ... he kept that other woman calm so, what was he, a small boy, supposed to do? He felt something strange stir in his gut as their gazes remained locked... he... wanted to kill this man, this 'father' of his, didn't he?
He did, but ... he didn't. She was happy, and it made him happy..... he was torn.
He moved only when the two departed from the kitchen and he could hear them talking and laughing in the living room as if nothing happened. Mother never remembered the awful things that other woman did, so he wasn't angry at her utter lack of concern over him. He simply willed himself to his feet, brushing the shards out of his coat quickly before picking a few pieces that had lodged themselves in his flesh. A tremble moved over his body as he went and retrieved the little hand broom and got down on his knees to sweep up the mess, only then realizing how deeply the piece in his cheek had cut when a few drops of blood, his blood, dropped to the floor in front of him. He clutched the broom tighter, obsidian claws sinking into the short, wooden handle as hot tears rolled down his cheeks. His fur was sufficiently soaked in a short time and several tears dripped from his nose and mingled with the blood on the floor.... She'd never made him bleed before.
Yeah, this whole week my Osias muse has been all "Fine, you wanna know why I have issues, I'll show you issues!" :: Throws back story at dealer and goes and sit to be emo in a corner::
Yeah, so.... enjoy the first section of Osias' back story (Which has been to long in the making... x.x)
With dinner complete he dragged a stool over near the sink and climbed up on it carefully, not wishing to fall off. Standing straight and leaning, up on his toes, he was able to reach and turn the knob and start the water. He put the stopper in one side, added in a bit of soap and let it run for a few moments while he got down to collect the dirty dishes. He'd been raised with running water this far and it was something he didn't think strange at all, even if it was a rare household commodity in the Lowlands. He knew not everyone had it, he'd been to neighbor children's houses after all but .... they were better then other Lowlanders. Mother told him that almost everyday, and she wouldn't lie, not to him. She loved him and she'd never do such a thing. He, no, they deserved such things and everyone else deserved to live without them, they had inferior genetics after all. His family was a blessed line, the minimal rotting the entire family had was proof of such. He was going to great things one day and mother knew it.... that's why she gave him his name, Osias, Salvation.... great things indeed.
He smiled at his thoughts as he gathered the plates and silverware from the table that he and his mother had used tonight. He was a small child, even if he had been born in his bipedal form, and he had to stand on his toes to reach the table top. He was well practiced in this routine, it was one of his jobs and had been for several years. With her hands as they were mother couldn't wash dishes, so he did. He was ten now, and a little taller, so it was much easier. At least he didn't still have to drag that stool everywhere to get things gathered up, that had been such a pain! He began humming a somewhat somber sounding tune as he worked, mother liked to sing this one to him the most and he liked it... even if the words to the song were sad. Still humming he climbed back up onto the stool, not noticing it shifted a bit, and stood up, getting ready to place the dishes in the sink and shut the water off. The stool slid on a broken tile, tilting slightly and knocking him off balance. Standing on your toes wasn't exactly the best way to be when something like that happened and he wound up falling off and landing on the kitchen floor with a thud and a surprised squeak, the plates landing and shattering not long after.
He froze, short brown fur bristling, had anyone heard? He swallowed hard when he heard the sound of claws clicking on the tile behind him, he couldn't quite tell the mood she was in by just that and reluctantly turned his body to look up at his mother, but he didn't get to see more then a flash of brown before he was reeling backward into the tile and ceramic shards of the plates he'd dropped. Suits, he hated when she used her Spade ability when she was like this... it hurt more. His ears registered a thud behind him moments before he felt clawed, bandaged hands gripping the side of his face and pushing down into the the sharp pieces of former tableware. She was screeching something at him in broken common language, her words slipping to and fro between Spade and Common making him unable to understand half of it. Burnished gold visionaries widened briefly before returning to a normal, if not dazed state as he aloud his body to go limp, hardly feeling anything as she rubbed his face in the mess he'd made. This... wasn't mother, mother wasn't such a horrid, screechy woman.... mother was warm and kind and loved him ... he didn't like this woman. He wished she'd stay away forever, or, at least... he wished he knew the things that would trigger the change so he could make sure mother never went away.
He was roused back into a more conscious state when he felt the side of his face collide with the hard, cold floor. He couldn't contain the cry that sprang from his muzzle, a mixture of surprise and pain.... the impact had blurred his vision for a moment but... she wasn't touching him anymore? He was suddenly aware of a change in the atmosphere, a familiar change and then... a voice. Smooth and deep and most definitely male... and thoroughly oozing with charm, Saresh. He remained on the ground, laying on his side and, at first, trying to avoid looking at the form he knew so well. But he had that odd, creepy sensation running down his spine that he got when he was being stared at and he couldn't ignore it for long. He moved his head forward, becoming acutely aware of the piece of ceramic that had lodged it's self in his cheek, only to have his gaze line up with a set of eyes that were only a couple shades lighter then his own. As charming as the older rat's aura was, the look chilled him to the core. Mother called him her angel, her guiding light, especially with that handsome white, gold and red coat but.... Osias hated him. He hated him more then the women who had her arms wrapped around him and grinning in sadistic glee at what she'd done, pausing momentarily to hiss at the small form curled up and bleeding on the floor.
Those two were perfect together... that woman and that man... that man, that highlander, he'd never acknowledge as his father. There was something off about him, and Osias wasn't fooled but mother... she loved him, he made her happy ... he kept that other woman calm so, what was he, a small boy, supposed to do? He felt something strange stir in his gut as their gazes remained locked... he... wanted to kill this man, this 'father' of his, didn't he?
He did, but ... he didn't. She was happy, and it made him happy..... he was torn.
He moved only when the two departed from the kitchen and he could hear them talking and laughing in the living room as if nothing happened. Mother never remembered the awful things that other woman did, so he wasn't angry at her utter lack of concern over him. He simply willed himself to his feet, brushing the shards out of his coat quickly before picking a few pieces that had lodged themselves in his flesh. A tremble moved over his body as he went and retrieved the little hand broom and got down on his knees to sweep up the mess, only then realizing how deeply the piece in his cheek had cut when a few drops of blood, his blood, dropped to the floor in front of him. He clutched the broom tighter, obsidian claws sinking into the short, wooden handle as hot tears rolled down his cheeks. His fur was sufficiently soaked in a short time and several tears dripped from his nose and mingled with the blood on the floor.... She'd never made him bleed before.
