Post by Kari Muffin on Feb 8, 2011 13:33:17 GMT -5
More writing from yours truly. I came to the sudden realization that I never posted the second half of a Rosewood fic I did a while ago. If you read this you'll understand the true meaning of the shovel comment. Of course, THERE IS GORE, so you have been warned.
Also, there are Rocky fics. Just so you know, he's not always a nice person. And the second part of Gideon's adventures.
It was easy to separate them, and his parents were too dim to realize that he was setting them up. His father went out to take care of a "business" venture, which left him alone with his mother.
They had a nice breakfast together. He was cheerful, she didn't notice when he slipped something into her tea. It took a while for the drug to actually take effect, and when it did she passed out at the table.
He was thankful for being a Club. Dragging his mother up the stairs was an ordeal, but he had plenty of time to draw things out. He had made sure everything was perfect.
And he wanted her to be awake for the nightmare.
The woman was bound to the bed. Rope was used to lash her limbs to the bed frame. Her neck was a bit difficult to handle, but Rosewood managed to figure something out. Her beak was tied shut for good measure.
She was going to pay for what she had done. It would be slow and painful. He could just envision running the knife down her clean white feathers. The blood staining the bedsheets as she struggled against the rope. She wouldn't even be able to scream.
The woman would be helpless. Just like his Grandmother had been. They had only killed her because she had violated some stupid rule. Just because she had slept with an Outsider. It wasn't like she had done anything unforgivable. She was an amazing woman. Beautiful, talented and far better than the stupid bitch that had given birth to him.
He ran the knife across one of paws. She jerked awake with a muffled scream. "Hello Mother," he said in deadpan.
The panic was clear in her eyes. A smile crossed his beak. Why did his heart flutter so badly when she made that face? "You don't even know what you did, do you?" He placed the knife on her neck. "You always were a selfish bitch."
He pulled the knife across the flesh. It wasn't a fatal wound. She thrashed quite a bit. The blood was everywhere by the time she had finally run out of energy to fight against the rope. All he needed to do was stab her in non vital places. A person could survive quite a bit before they bleed to death. Every moment she whimpered, was a moment of justice being properly delivered.
When he was satisfied that she couldn't be in anymore pain, he placed the blade right out of her reach. It was clear that she wanted to die, and he wasn't about to let her have satisfaction. If he dealt the finishing blow to end her suffering she would win.
And there was no way he would let her win.
He needed to wash off the blood before his father returned. It was hard to clean himself off, as the blood insisted on staining his feathers a bit.
He hadn't taken into consideration that his father would come home early. Still wet from his wash, he could feel the panic welling up. He had to stay calm. Collecting his thoughts he went out the back of the house.
There had to be something... something he could use.
He tripped over the shovel, causing a clatter as he went down. With a muffled curse he rushed to try and gain a vantage point. He could hear his father's clicking foot steps inside the house. His back was pressed against the wall.
"Rosewood?"
The door creaked open, he saw the hint of red eyes.
The swan swung blindly. There was a sharp and sickening crack. The peacock hit the ground with a thud. He was still clearly breathing.
So he hit him again.
And again.
And again.
Five long minutes of fury mixed with terror. By the time the swan was done, his father's head was nothing but a bloody pulp. It wasn't what he had intended to do and the sight made him vomit.
He stumbled into the house, making his way to the sink. He ran the water over his head, trying not to pant. He slipped to the floor.
"I win," he whispered as he stared into the distance. At least his Grandmother would be avenged.
Dirty Little Secrets
Rocky did his best to be discreet when it came to his dirty habits. Most people thought he was a cheerful odd ball, and most of the time he was.
Sometimes though, he enjoyed watching people a little more than he should. Birds. They were his weakness, and he couldn't help but want to watch him.
It was raining tonight. Zeki was old enough to handle himself, and he had to find wings to fulfill an order. So he had to resort to contacts in the city. They were the shady sort that he wasn't fond of associating with. The client didn't find the Avington wings acceptable, so he had to suck it up and search for a proper pair.
That was when he saw a rather brightly colored Yarrow bird. She wouldn't have caught his attention if it weren't for the sheer size of her wings when she reached out to shield some young mouse from the rain.
He had to stop. He had to follow her. He knew it was a bad idea, but as long as he kept his distance and was casual about it, everything would be fine.
It was dark enough that he almost blended in. The woman seemed transfixed on her young friend, and they seemed to be going to a hotel. She didn't notice him at all, even when he was in plain sight.
He should have stopped and gone to meant his contact. He didn't want to deal with yelling that normally happened when he was late. Though he was paying the contact handsomely if he went through legal means so... he could stay a little longer.
A little longer turned into hours.
The woman went to bed. Rocky found himself pressed up against the glass. His animal form was balanced on the window ledge in an strange manner, suits only knew how long it could hold his weight. He could see her, stretched out on the sheets. Her brightly colored feathers pierced through the dark of the room, standing out in the faint light.
He was soaking wet and very late.
The woman shifted in her sleep, finally curling up and tucking her head under her wing. His nose was pressed against the glass for a few long moments.
"No, seriously, I'll do it for free. You just have to understand their might be side effects," Rocky said as he held a clipboard. "And you'll get payment each time you come back for checkups. Just ask Jessica."
The woman looked skeptical. Then again she had probably seen a lot of scams in this part of Corvistowne. She was a prostitute and she wasn't the prettiest in the area. He was honestly doing the woman a favor. A small set of decorative wings would be delightful, and he could experiment with a few of his new drug cocktails.
"Wha's goin' to prevent' you from doing some'hing while I'm knocked out?"
Rocky sighed. Really? Like he would do anything other than business with this disease ridden--happy thoughts. "I can do the procedure while you're awake if you like. Just numb the area. Though it would be easier if you were knocked out."
The woman still looked skeptical.
"You can get back to me after you have a chat with Jessica? You know, the girl with the small white and gold wings? She has a beautiful mane, she's part rat, mostly dog, Corvie Selkie mix." They had to know each other. She was "popular" around here.
Her face wrinkled in an unflattering manner. No wonder she didn't get customers. "Well, you do simple modifications and you jus' want to give me bi's of feather and some wings?
"Exactly." He was doing his best to smile cheerfully. His face was starting to get sore, and he was starting to get impatient with the dim woman. Maybe he could knock her out and drag her back to the lab? Though she looked rather heavy... suits he shouldn't have been contemplating about this.
"Well I..." the woman began, looking up at the large raccoon. It was quite clear from her expression that she wasn't going to give him a decision anytime soon.
The raccoon closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them she was still there, hemming and hawing. He could just walk away, but she had been the healthiest and sturdiest looking person he could experiment on. He could always go to some other part of town and find another poor hooker who needed improvements.
It was getting dark though. He could potentially sneak off with her and not ruin his reputation. Who would believe that the bright and happy raccoon would kidnap someone and experiment on them. Surely he could find some drugs to muddle her memories...
"No. Bad Rocky. Bad," he muttered to himself. He gave the woman another look over and a small smile. "Hopefully I'll be seeing you soon."
Part II
[/center]
Nervous. Perhaps this had been too reckless of an idea. Perhaps he should slip out of the bar now? The tender didn't seem to be surprised though after another casual and quirky chat.
His tail thrashed as he waited for the strange man with the wide grin. Was he going to come? Had yesterday been some sort of horrible joke?
He was sitting there for hours alone. The most of the Esterberries were ignoring him. Periodically someone tried to flirt with him or exchange witty banter. People faded in and out of the bar, and before the Gideon knew it it was time for last call.
Apparently it had all been a curl joke. He slowly slipped off the chair with a a faint smile at the bartender. He gave the bar one good look over to see if the man had been hiding in the shadows, but there was only a overly kissy couple in the back corner of the establishment.
The winter chill was a shocking change from the overly warm establishment. A shiver went through him as he made his way down the dark and snow dusted street. The only thing he could hear was his own faint footfalls as he made his way to the inn he was staying at.
It was almost a picture perfect night. Esterberry did seem like a fairy tale dream. The sudden shriek shattered all thoughts of fairy tales and quiet winter nights. Most of his fur stood on end as he looked around for the source of the sound.
Run.
He should have listened to that voice in his head. Instead the canine mix ran towards the noise. Perhaps he could save whoever was in distress? Or maybe he could call the police. He stumbled around the corner with wide eyes.
There was the man with the too wide smile, covered in what appeared to be blood. A horrible stench filled the hybrid's nose as he stumbled backwards in the snow.
"I'm so happy that you found me," the man said in a voice that sounded almost like silk. "I'm sorry I didn't show up at the bar, something came up." He motioned to the blood that stained his clothing.
Gideon felt overwhelmed. The awful smell. The sight of the blood. He felt his stomach trying to tie itself in knots. "I... I thought you were making fun of me and now... why are you covered in so much blood?" His eyes were starting to water. Cheap perfume, blood, and oil paint.
The man smiled. "Making art of course."
Depraved. That would be the word for the unhinged expression on the bipedals face as he offered Gideon a hand.
There was still time to run. Not like there were many places to go. The man could probably find him rather easily now. And what did he have to lose really? It could have been a simple misunderstanding.
He righted himself, accepting the man's hand with a paw. Was he going to regret this? He hoped not. There was something that just seemed to pull him in, though he could hardly place it.
As they walked Gideon couldn't help but feel endless curiosity as the snow crunched under their feet. He hadn't seen anyone else in the alleyway, but he had heard a woman screaming. That must have been a woman....
He continued to shoot looks at the man as the traveled for what seemed like forever. They came to a rather small apartment complex. The man with the wide smile dusted the powdery snow off the lock opening it with a loud click.
Gideon was immediately assaulted by the smell of paint thinner, ink, and a mix of other art supplies. He was ushered inside before he could make protest, the man closing the door behind him.
"We haven't been properly introduced," the man said as he hooked the keys onto the wall. "You can call me Odell. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting and taking to my humble abode?"
"Gideon," he supplied as he followed the man deeper into the house. The entire thing was a studio, really, with all the paintings and other odds and ends that were around. He was offered a seat, which he hopped onto gracefully.
Another person appeared. A brightly orange maned Morganberry-Esterberry mix appeared. She had curves in all the right places though she looked disgruntled. "Oi, do you know what time it is," she said as she blew the cup of tea she was holding.
"Yes, I do Ora, would you kindly get some tea for our new friend?" He said politely as he took a seat on a stool.
The woman stared for one long moment before shrugging and disappearing through a door that he could only assume led to the kitchen. A silence seemed to fall between them yet again, Gideon eying the various things around the studio. The closer he looked the more ghoulish things seemed to be. The portraits had people dripping blood from the corners of their mouths, some of them had organs exposed, some had their throats cut from ear to ear, and it slowly got worse.
None of it looked truly real despite all of the details.
"So... did you paint all of these?" he asked, his voice catching in his throat.
"Yes. I'm not actually going to school for painting as my major," he said after a moment. Somehow he seemed more chipper than before. Perhaps it was his own environment that improved things. "It's my minor though, so I have to take it seriously. And I'm searching for the truth...."
"And that has to do with murder?"
"Why yes, yes it does."
Also, there are Rocky fics. Just so you know, he's not always a nice person. And the second part of Gideon's adventures.
Black is Red
It was easy to separate them, and his parents were too dim to realize that he was setting them up. His father went out to take care of a "business" venture, which left him alone with his mother.
They had a nice breakfast together. He was cheerful, she didn't notice when he slipped something into her tea. It took a while for the drug to actually take effect, and when it did she passed out at the table.
He was thankful for being a Club. Dragging his mother up the stairs was an ordeal, but he had plenty of time to draw things out. He had made sure everything was perfect.
And he wanted her to be awake for the nightmare.
The woman was bound to the bed. Rope was used to lash her limbs to the bed frame. Her neck was a bit difficult to handle, but Rosewood managed to figure something out. Her beak was tied shut for good measure.
She was going to pay for what she had done. It would be slow and painful. He could just envision running the knife down her clean white feathers. The blood staining the bedsheets as she struggled against the rope. She wouldn't even be able to scream.
The woman would be helpless. Just like his Grandmother had been. They had only killed her because she had violated some stupid rule. Just because she had slept with an Outsider. It wasn't like she had done anything unforgivable. She was an amazing woman. Beautiful, talented and far better than the stupid bitch that had given birth to him.
He ran the knife across one of paws. She jerked awake with a muffled scream. "Hello Mother," he said in deadpan.
The panic was clear in her eyes. A smile crossed his beak. Why did his heart flutter so badly when she made that face? "You don't even know what you did, do you?" He placed the knife on her neck. "You always were a selfish bitch."
He pulled the knife across the flesh. It wasn't a fatal wound. She thrashed quite a bit. The blood was everywhere by the time she had finally run out of energy to fight against the rope. All he needed to do was stab her in non vital places. A person could survive quite a bit before they bleed to death. Every moment she whimpered, was a moment of justice being properly delivered.
When he was satisfied that she couldn't be in anymore pain, he placed the blade right out of her reach. It was clear that she wanted to die, and he wasn't about to let her have satisfaction. If he dealt the finishing blow to end her suffering she would win.
And there was no way he would let her win.
He needed to wash off the blood before his father returned. It was hard to clean himself off, as the blood insisted on staining his feathers a bit.
He hadn't taken into consideration that his father would come home early. Still wet from his wash, he could feel the panic welling up. He had to stay calm. Collecting his thoughts he went out the back of the house.
There had to be something... something he could use.
He tripped over the shovel, causing a clatter as he went down. With a muffled curse he rushed to try and gain a vantage point. He could hear his father's clicking foot steps inside the house. His back was pressed against the wall.
"Rosewood?"
The door creaked open, he saw the hint of red eyes.
The swan swung blindly. There was a sharp and sickening crack. The peacock hit the ground with a thud. He was still clearly breathing.
So he hit him again.
And again.
And again.
Five long minutes of fury mixed with terror. By the time the swan was done, his father's head was nothing but a bloody pulp. It wasn't what he had intended to do and the sight made him vomit.
He stumbled into the house, making his way to the sink. He ran the water over his head, trying not to pant. He slipped to the floor.
"I win," he whispered as he stared into the distance. At least his Grandmother would be avenged.
Dirty Little Secrets
Rocky did his best to be discreet when it came to his dirty habits. Most people thought he was a cheerful odd ball, and most of the time he was.
Sometimes though, he enjoyed watching people a little more than he should. Birds. They were his weakness, and he couldn't help but want to watch him.
It was raining tonight. Zeki was old enough to handle himself, and he had to find wings to fulfill an order. So he had to resort to contacts in the city. They were the shady sort that he wasn't fond of associating with. The client didn't find the Avington wings acceptable, so he had to suck it up and search for a proper pair.
That was when he saw a rather brightly colored Yarrow bird. She wouldn't have caught his attention if it weren't for the sheer size of her wings when she reached out to shield some young mouse from the rain.
He had to stop. He had to follow her. He knew it was a bad idea, but as long as he kept his distance and was casual about it, everything would be fine.
It was dark enough that he almost blended in. The woman seemed transfixed on her young friend, and they seemed to be going to a hotel. She didn't notice him at all, even when he was in plain sight.
He should have stopped and gone to meant his contact. He didn't want to deal with yelling that normally happened when he was late. Though he was paying the contact handsomely if he went through legal means so... he could stay a little longer.
A little longer turned into hours.
The woman went to bed. Rocky found himself pressed up against the glass. His animal form was balanced on the window ledge in an strange manner, suits only knew how long it could hold his weight. He could see her, stretched out on the sheets. Her brightly colored feathers pierced through the dark of the room, standing out in the faint light.
He was soaking wet and very late.
The woman shifted in her sleep, finally curling up and tucking her head under her wing. His nose was pressed against the glass for a few long moments.
Business
"No, seriously, I'll do it for free. You just have to understand their might be side effects," Rocky said as he held a clipboard. "And you'll get payment each time you come back for checkups. Just ask Jessica."
The woman looked skeptical. Then again she had probably seen a lot of scams in this part of Corvistowne. She was a prostitute and she wasn't the prettiest in the area. He was honestly doing the woman a favor. A small set of decorative wings would be delightful, and he could experiment with a few of his new drug cocktails.
"Wha's goin' to prevent' you from doing some'hing while I'm knocked out?"
Rocky sighed. Really? Like he would do anything other than business with this disease ridden--happy thoughts. "I can do the procedure while you're awake if you like. Just numb the area. Though it would be easier if you were knocked out."
The woman still looked skeptical.
"You can get back to me after you have a chat with Jessica? You know, the girl with the small white and gold wings? She has a beautiful mane, she's part rat, mostly dog, Corvie Selkie mix." They had to know each other. She was "popular" around here.
Her face wrinkled in an unflattering manner. No wonder she didn't get customers. "Well, you do simple modifications and you jus' want to give me bi's of feather and some wings?
"Exactly." He was doing his best to smile cheerfully. His face was starting to get sore, and he was starting to get impatient with the dim woman. Maybe he could knock her out and drag her back to the lab? Though she looked rather heavy... suits he shouldn't have been contemplating about this.
"Well I..." the woman began, looking up at the large raccoon. It was quite clear from her expression that she wasn't going to give him a decision anytime soon.
The raccoon closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them she was still there, hemming and hawing. He could just walk away, but she had been the healthiest and sturdiest looking person he could experiment on. He could always go to some other part of town and find another poor hooker who needed improvements.
It was getting dark though. He could potentially sneak off with her and not ruin his reputation. Who would believe that the bright and happy raccoon would kidnap someone and experiment on them. Surely he could find some drugs to muddle her memories...
"No. Bad Rocky. Bad," he muttered to himself. He gave the woman another look over and a small smile. "Hopefully I'll be seeing you soon."
For the Sake of Art
Part II
[/center]
Nervous. Perhaps this had been too reckless of an idea. Perhaps he should slip out of the bar now? The tender didn't seem to be surprised though after another casual and quirky chat.
His tail thrashed as he waited for the strange man with the wide grin. Was he going to come? Had yesterday been some sort of horrible joke?
He was sitting there for hours alone. The most of the Esterberries were ignoring him. Periodically someone tried to flirt with him or exchange witty banter. People faded in and out of the bar, and before the Gideon knew it it was time for last call.
Apparently it had all been a curl joke. He slowly slipped off the chair with a a faint smile at the bartender. He gave the bar one good look over to see if the man had been hiding in the shadows, but there was only a overly kissy couple in the back corner of the establishment.
The winter chill was a shocking change from the overly warm establishment. A shiver went through him as he made his way down the dark and snow dusted street. The only thing he could hear was his own faint footfalls as he made his way to the inn he was staying at.
It was almost a picture perfect night. Esterberry did seem like a fairy tale dream. The sudden shriek shattered all thoughts of fairy tales and quiet winter nights. Most of his fur stood on end as he looked around for the source of the sound.
Run.
He should have listened to that voice in his head. Instead the canine mix ran towards the noise. Perhaps he could save whoever was in distress? Or maybe he could call the police. He stumbled around the corner with wide eyes.
There was the man with the too wide smile, covered in what appeared to be blood. A horrible stench filled the hybrid's nose as he stumbled backwards in the snow.
"I'm so happy that you found me," the man said in a voice that sounded almost like silk. "I'm sorry I didn't show up at the bar, something came up." He motioned to the blood that stained his clothing.
Gideon felt overwhelmed. The awful smell. The sight of the blood. He felt his stomach trying to tie itself in knots. "I... I thought you were making fun of me and now... why are you covered in so much blood?" His eyes were starting to water. Cheap perfume, blood, and oil paint.
The man smiled. "Making art of course."
Depraved. That would be the word for the unhinged expression on the bipedals face as he offered Gideon a hand.
There was still time to run. Not like there were many places to go. The man could probably find him rather easily now. And what did he have to lose really? It could have been a simple misunderstanding.
He righted himself, accepting the man's hand with a paw. Was he going to regret this? He hoped not. There was something that just seemed to pull him in, though he could hardly place it.
As they walked Gideon couldn't help but feel endless curiosity as the snow crunched under their feet. He hadn't seen anyone else in the alleyway, but he had heard a woman screaming. That must have been a woman....
He continued to shoot looks at the man as the traveled for what seemed like forever. They came to a rather small apartment complex. The man with the wide smile dusted the powdery snow off the lock opening it with a loud click.
Gideon was immediately assaulted by the smell of paint thinner, ink, and a mix of other art supplies. He was ushered inside before he could make protest, the man closing the door behind him.
"We haven't been properly introduced," the man said as he hooked the keys onto the wall. "You can call me Odell. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting and taking to my humble abode?"
"Gideon," he supplied as he followed the man deeper into the house. The entire thing was a studio, really, with all the paintings and other odds and ends that were around. He was offered a seat, which he hopped onto gracefully.
Another person appeared. A brightly orange maned Morganberry-Esterberry mix appeared. She had curves in all the right places though she looked disgruntled. "Oi, do you know what time it is," she said as she blew the cup of tea she was holding.
"Yes, I do Ora, would you kindly get some tea for our new friend?" He said politely as he took a seat on a stool.
The woman stared for one long moment before shrugging and disappearing through a door that he could only assume led to the kitchen. A silence seemed to fall between them yet again, Gideon eying the various things around the studio. The closer he looked the more ghoulish things seemed to be. The portraits had people dripping blood from the corners of their mouths, some of them had organs exposed, some had their throats cut from ear to ear, and it slowly got worse.
None of it looked truly real despite all of the details.
"So... did you paint all of these?" he asked, his voice catching in his throat.
"Yes. I'm not actually going to school for painting as my major," he said after a moment. Somehow he seemed more chipper than before. Perhaps it was his own environment that improved things. "It's my minor though, so I have to take it seriously. And I'm searching for the truth...."
"And that has to do with murder?"
"Why yes, yes it does."
