Ceramic Mountains

by **Victor Lark** on November 15th, 2011, 4:36 pm

He did not look down at her, but he did bend a finger around a wild lock of the hair that had sprawled over his chest. The sweat-damp cotton of his shirt was cold with the rain-moist air that clung to it, but her body felt as warm as any other as it curled against his. Her ignorances were beginning to irritate him, or maybe it was mention of Seven, the reminder that Victor had chosen to abandon him for a cold, empty rooftop and a stupid Kelvic. He should have been home long before then. He should not have stopped to sleep; he should have run and run until he found their home, where he could at least get a glimpse of those tired red eyes before they departed to make sense of the city. Then he could sleep in the shadow of Seven’s warmth, on his own bed and in his own time. He should not have stayed.

She kept going on and on about him, and Victor wished he knew why. He clutched at the hair he held, squeezing his frustration into a piece of her that she could not feel, as he stared at the sky and tried in vain to pull something innocent out of her words, something indifferent. There was nothing to redeem her.

Victor saw green. “I know how the city is,” he replied indignantly. He pushed her off of him and the pair whirled for an instant until he was looming over her, close. Their noses touched; their breath mingled. The hand that had held hers drew up her arm and cradled her face with a tender affection that matched the bend of his brow. His tone returned to that of a child’s condescension, where it had accidently slipped to something almost respectful. “Maybe it’s trying to tell you something.”

A giant glob of rain collided with his scalp, and he winced. It was probably a sign, but Victor did not care to interpret it. Instead he sighed: he would have to explain to the dim-witted girl what he meant. He added, “You should forget about him. There are other men, Palla. Other people. You have a lot to learn.” Another drop of rain fell just beneath her collarbone. He wiped it away.

“I should go home now. You should, too.” With that he stood, turned his eyes towards the bend at the roof’s height, and climbed there. He should not have stayed.

by **Palla** on November 15th, 2011, 4:59 pm

Palla felt only the slightest of tugs when Victor gripped her hair. She watched his expressions meld and contort into a whole plethora of different things. Unfortunately, she didn’t understand what any of them meant, but she got a good idea when he shoved her off of him. Nose to nose with the man, she felt slightly intimidated, she heard her heartbeat ring in her ears. What made him react the way he was? What was he feeling? She wanted nothing less than to be able to read his mind in that very instant. She felt a pang of creepy crawly ants deep in her chest. She summed it up to slight irritation. But she was afraid - too afraid – to back away from him as his palm slid its way up her arm and to her face. There was something in his eyes, in his tone, that put her teetering on the edge.

As Victor wiped the raindrop from her collarbone, she shied away under his touch. He was misunderstanding what she was trying to say, but due credit was to the way she was explaining it. Silly, she knew she sounded silly. She couldn’t explain the way she felt about Seven, so how could he even begin to understand? An aching feeling wrapped its way around the pit of her stomach, and she felt her apple swell up into her throat, bitter and unforgiving.

”You don’t understand, Victor. He isn’t just a man, not just a person, not just a two-legged. He’s something else, and I know I have a lot to learn. But I can’t learn without help, and that’s what he does. He helps me. He shows me. And he’s kind and gentle about it. He’s a… well, he’s exactly what I need, exactly what I wanted when I stood outside Alvadas contemplating entering the city.” She was irritable with herself. It was her own fault she couldn’t explain what she had meant. She wanted to keep talking to him, but she was sure he was eager to get out of the impending rain.
Standing as he climbed up, she called back, ”I haven’t a home. I live everywhere.” After pausing momentarily, she continued, ”I still want to talk with you.”

by **Victor Lark** on November 16th, 2011, 5:01 pm

His tired leather sole deflated at that shingled peak. Victor perched, staring ahead hesitantly, or defiantly. A sigh bobbed on his shoulders when she seemed to be finally done; he pivoted to face her with another sudden flourish, spiraling to a crouch. Settling his elbows on his knees, Victor carved a contemptuous smile onto his lips as he snarled, “I know what—who he is. He is not what you need.” He looked over his shoulder. “You need someone who will climb with you, and sleep with you in trees and on rooftops, in the rain. Another little rodent.” He stood, turned around again, lifted a foot forward.

There was a shot pause as Victor thought to say some other cruel thing, but then his mind bent to hers (or what little he knew of it) and he concluded that would do little to dissuade her. Instead he dropped forward without another word, slid out of sight and down the roof’s other slope with the same Bd dn dn dn dn...

And he was off again, the percussive shadow that skipped like a stone over the rolling crests of Alvadas. His irritated feet hit harder then, landed louder and echoed farther. Silence concerned him less than speed, even as Ionu began to paint the city with slick rain. He meant to lose Palla, as Seven had lost her. She would not be allowed to find his fool, she whom Victor had touched without abandon, she who spoke so desperately of the half-blood’s kindness and patience. She was an animal; she could forget.

by **Palla** on November 16th, 2011, 7:37 pm

If Palla had had the energy left in her soul, her little jaw would have fallen right open. She stared at the place where he had been crouched, and she felt the lump in her chest swell. Her ears rang.

Another little rodent.

Anger gripped her, and she wished more than anything that she had that apple core to throw at him. But he was gone. He took his leave over the slope of the roof. What was she to do? She just wanted Seven. She wanted him to be there with her in that very moment, more than anything. She felt her heart ache. But what if Victor was telling the truth? What if Seven really didn’t want to have anything to do with her?

Wait. How did Victor know?

I know what-who he is. He is not what you need.

He knew Seven?! Palla quickly leapt from the slope of the roof, shifting in a bolt of brilliant light. She landed on all fours and sniffed the breeze around her. The rain was dulling his scent, but she caught onto Victor as he landed on the other side. Her ears pricked up at the sound of his footfall. Carefully and quietly, she began to make her way around the perimeter of his trail. She knew that if he spotted her, he probably would not be very happy with her. A strange vision of him punting her off of the edge of the building came to mind. Had she been in her two-legged skin, she would have scowled and grunted.

Paying careful mind not to alert Victor to her whereabouts, she traveled in the shadows somewhat behind, somewhat beside him. Occasionally she would slip on the shingles of the rooftops, and hid in the crannies of the slopes. Her desire to find Seven grew, that familiar tingling sensation thickening in her mind and body. What was Seven to Victor? Why had he suddenly acted so defensive? He had seemed so nice at first. What had she done wrong to provoke this behavior?

And then, what would happen if she followed Victor all the way to Seven? He would surely see… He would find out… How angry would he be?

Probably very, but she didn’t care. In the end, it would be worth it just to find him again.

by **Paragon** on December 11th, 2011, 12:30 am

Victor :

Palla :

Great thread you two, you write your characters so well - if you have ANY questions or concerns about this grading, don't hesitate to PM me.