01-19-2011, 07:49 AM
Jarka had long since left the area when Victoria came tramping in through the doorway. The young woman seemed utterly shredded, inside and out. She was practically naked, and it seemed like she’d been out there all day. Soaked and generally miserable looking, she began to trudge through the room, and he called out to her. “Vic.” He actually meant well, if it was hard to believe that.
She looked up to him, revealing massive black pools in her eyes, dilated pupils that came so readily with the use of psychedelics. He didn’t want to judge her, poor thing’s life love just got a sizable hole shot in his head. “Fearless leader,” she uttered in a weary tone. He wasn’t entirely sure if she was making fun of him, if she was just saying things or if she actually meant it.
He tilted his head to the side, curious if he could pry anything out of her in her state as it was. He did feel a bit guilty to proceed in that way, but one more thing to add to the stack couldn’t hurt. “What?” It was a simple question. The best kind.
“Roy’s dead…” She barely uttered the thing. He wondered if she was just raving. “Rank structure dictates that you're now the leader.” Well, she knew that much at least. She might have been from the government, but most likely she would have put a stop to things by now if she was. Maybe she was like Jarka, too wrapped in everything to leave. “No point in keeping secrets now. Point, and I'll kill. But I'm tired. Goodnight.” She ended the conversation quickly. She wasn’t in the mood for Sigfried at the moment, and for that he couldn’t blame her. He was hardly in the mood for himself.
“Victoria, wait, about tha-“ She made it clear that she was done when the closed and locked behind her. In “Roy’s” old room. Roy had never slept there. Roy never slept. Roy went away every night so that Sigfried could think and feel what he was thinking and feeling. Most of it sickened him. Still though, Roy had spent a good amount of time in that room, laying on that bed over the sheets to think. It was like a ritual. He’d wake up in the morning and go think for a while. He was probably trying to remember what had happened the night before, in the nights when he wasn’t there, in the nights when he stopped existing.
Lucky bastard never had to comb his perfect hair or brush his perfect teeth. He just seemed to wake up halfway through his day, able to do whatever it was that he felt like. Then again, Sigfried had given those things up a while ago anyways. He had all but forgotten that he was once a boy that had to eat or drink or brush his teeth or go to the bathroom. Those weren’t things he had to do if he changed into a version of himself that didn’t require those chores. He still had to sleep though. No matter how many times he had changed he had always remembered what it was like to be tired. And hungry. He didn’t really have to eat, but he still felt hungry now and again. It was a reassuring feeling. It made him feel more human, he guessed.
Also, he figured he liked cooking. Whoever didn’t like cooking was retarded in his mind. It was just fun to make something out of random ingredients. You know, sorta like making new people. Skoll and Hati had come accidentally. They just showed up one day, with their own little lives and personalities. Skoll lived in the dorms of all places and Hati had his own damned apartment. It was bigger than Sigfried’s. He didn’t even know he had powers at that point. What a hell of a battle it was to figure that fucking conundrum out.
Speaking of the duo, he knew they had been standing outside for a while now, but he figured they were just shooting the shit. “Hey guys, come on in, huh?” He beckoned their attention by cracking the door and looking out into the hallway. Sure enough, they sat on either side of the doorway with plastic bags in either hand like some kind of homeless vanguard. “Sup.”
The two looked up at him, and Hati grinned. “So is shit going better than it was, like, twenty minutes ago?” Sigfried sort of shrugged and looked up to the ceiling as though to refer to the fact that he guessed so. “Sweet.” The two shambled up quickly off of the ground and stalked into the basement.
Skoll let the bag will a row of those vodka wine cooler things that they sell at the corner shops onto the coffee table and plopped down. “So did you tell Jarka?” He looked at Sigfried with that same dull stabbing judgment that he always had. “I mean, Victoria was totally strung out so I figure you gave her a rest but…”
Sigfried glared over at him from across the rom. “Yeah, I told her. I mean, she didn’t take it the best. Stabbed me.”
Skoll’s eyes widened and pointed at Sigfried enthusiastically. “Is she still here? We can take care of that.” He nodded once, adding emphasis to his statement.
Hati shook his head in irritation. “Dude, leave her alone. That’s a lot of bullshit to deal with. She knew he could take it, he got capped in the dome.” He motioned a false, finger-made gun to his head and let the thumb hammer fall. “Give her some time.”
Skoll shook his head as he cracked a bottle open. “I will never get you.”
Hati cackled, also twisting the top off of a drink. “I think that’s the point.” He chuckled to himself and flung himself at the couch, grabbing the remote.
Sigfried smiled as he watched the two spar. He didn’t know why, but they made him so proud. That little pieces of his brain could go out into the world on their own and be so fucking smart. He guessed it was the closest feeling he’d have to having kids. Not that they were kids or ever had been kids. They were two little people that he just so happened to have made on accident. They were his friends. Jarka was one of his only “real” friends remaining in the world but those two would never ever leave him.
Looking at the slammed shut door, he realized that Jarka might. He understood why she was angry. He didn’t know if he expected her to be all ok with everything. No, in fact he knew he didn’t expect that from her or he would have just told her flat out right away. She was all pissed about Roy dying. Why? He just took the time and effort to shoot himself and she was gonna cry about it? Call me a terrorist one more time, he thought to himself. Sure, those people in the mayor’s office had died. He put a written WARNING in the building before the attack went off. Skoll had run around screaming like a maniac about it. He did all he could, and that’s all that he could ask of himself.
He reached down, grabbed a bottle from the rack, and wrenched the cap off. Taking a long swig, he leaned against the counter and took one of his famous long breaths. Whatever had happened, whatever speed bumps or mistakes he had encountered along the way, this is all going according to plan. As messed up as it was that their delicate emotions had been sullied, this is the way it was supposed to go. He had to remember that he wanted it this way.
Imagine how those people felt, watching their idol die? Hell, it might be better this way, with him dead. He would be less distracted but also the public would be a lot more pissed the Hell off. It would incite the revolution he was looking for. People didn’t need to be violent to elect a mayor, but they needed to get violent to overthrow the government. That’s what really needed to happen in order for change to occur. People had to be ripped out of what they thought was the way it was and allowed to make the world in a way they saw fit. The glory of the revolution would not be in its inspiration, it action or the execution. It would be in the system that sprang from it afterwards.
He took a moment to peer into the future of what might be and basked in the glory that would come with change. He had hoped that the name “Roy Munin” would be the one scribed down in the history books, and he was sure that it would still be the one in bold. He didn’t want his name on this. It wasn’t for glory or money or fame… It was for the people. By the people.
Of the people.
His attentions couldn’t help but wander back to those lonely doors, scarred and scared women within. He needed them more than he would ever admit, not just for the plan but for himself. They were an odd company to keep, a cook and a killer. He knew both well now in such different ways but he knew that this war would not be lead without them.
Sadly, this night was too late for reconciliation. The both needed their time alone. To think of it, so did he. Having the deliberate, calculated wit of Roy back in his head always soothed his troubled mind, but even those sentiments as peace, love and fantastic dictatorial ability did not calm the chaos tonight. It had been just a bit too much, too soon. He hadn’t expected such ridiculous actions as had occurred.
“Hey guys, I’ll be out for a little bit, ok?” Sigfried nodded to the twins and waved. Each knowingly waved in return and he took to the streets.
Normally he would find himself soaring on the wings of a crow right then, but, as was his custom in these moments, he chose to let his long legs walk. Down streets and through filthy alleyways he wandered with his destination in mind. Across the main drag and on to a lesser know street just shot off of it. Down a flight of stairs, show the bouncer an ID.
The bar itself was a square, with each corner a pillar for the ceiling to rest upon. It was a bar that had been dug down into the earth, friendly staffing and over a hundred beers on tap. Ample seating and the food wasn’t terrible either. It was pink night. Two zenni for a whole delicious pint of whatever the fuck you wanted, and it just so happened that Sigfried wanted a red ale.
Sigfried found a familiar seat in the rear of the rectangle, wedging himself next to the tall pillar that everyone seemed to avoid. It was far enough from the entrance that nobody would look there first but he could still see who was coming and going which oddly comforted him. He ordered his beer and lay three zenni on the table. He didn’t mind waiting, though he never seemed to wait long. It was nice to finally be alone, after all the time he had spent with the others, with Roy buzzing around in his head.
It wasn’t hard to let the others go from his mind. In fact, he didn’t think that he had ever really kept tabs on Skoll or Hati. If he had, he probably would have found them out sooner. With just those two wandering about in the world, his mind was blissfully quiet. It was only him, for once. He wasn’t there to pick up girls or chat with the fucking bartender, he just wanted to sit there and let the hours roll by while he drank his delicious, delicious beer.
With the rising of the sun came a world fresh and new to Sigfried. It might not have been so optimistic to the other two people in his basement hideout, but damn if he wasn’t chuffed to start a bloody revolution. He would need to act quickly to collect and direct the screaming masses of what he assumed would surely be the masses of blood thirsty populace quivering and dribble slipping from their mouths at the very thought of vengeance.
The man had never suffered from hangovers before he had discovered his terrifying healing factor, but he felt especially fantastic this morning. It was one of the few nights he had slept peacefully in a long time, for all the blood and terror that had happened the night before he was amazed that he had awoken at all. He yawned and stretched, pulling himself up off of the couch and scratching his chest casually. His nail caught on something on his chest that he had never felt before; he looked down to ascertain what it could be. A thin scar was traced just below his collarbone in his chest, where Jarka had stabbed him. Apparently something in his mind had wanted to remember that moment.
With a shrug and another stretch he made his way towards the fridge, cracking it and pulling some of the left over bottles from the twin’s haul out. He considered how bad it was to drink this early in the morning, but he figured he had nothing to lose. It was sort of refreshing to be able to have s a drink in the morning. It reminded him of college again.
College had been fun while it lasted. It was full of misadventures and coming face to face with failure. He did pretty well with failure now, considering how his night had been. He looked down at the oven and wondered if it would help or hinder him to get Jarka’s work station ready for her eventual awakening but finally figured that it would look like he was trying to impose a task on her. She probably didn’t want him fucking with her zone anyways.
He tapped the cover of the book he had bought, left to rest on the stovetop waiting for her and wondered how much of a give-a-shit she had left in her to appreciate it. “Telekinesis and You: A Guide to the Universe of the Mind” It was one of those self-disciplinary books that were published all the time, but it felt like it was an apt gift for the budding specialist. He wasn’t sure how the offer would be received. He forgave himself. He had at least tried.
Turning away from the book, he heard the door swing open to his left and stared in the direction blankly. Jarka stood in her PJ’s, rings under her eyes and hair a mess. She looked pissed off and generally displeased to be awake and alive. Sigfried stood in black boxers with a picture of a baby chicken and a magnet with a plus sign in between them, a bottle of cheap girly booze in his hand.
“Morning,” he said in a flat tone, gawking at her. With a blink, she grabbed the door before slamming it in front of her. He scrambled over to the couch and began pulling his clothing on hastily, despite the fact that he could have simply become a man with clothes on. “Ok, you’re good to go!” He shouted into the air, his arm finishing finding its way through the arm sleeve.
The door opened itself once again and the short chef stormed from her room and to the stove top. She glanced shortly at the book left there before picking it up and placing it off to the side, neither peep nor expression from her. She began to make some sort of breakfast. Sigfried wasn’t paying much attention. The twins wandered in from a long night out, stretching and yawning as they made their way into the living room.
Hati offered a weak smile. “Hey Jarka.” He didn’t bother asking how she slept. Skoll gave her as friendly a nod as he could and the two plopped down on the sofa next to Sigfried. She didn’t turn around or acknowledge either of the two of them and continued playing about with the frying pan and some kind of batter that included a fruit.
Sigfried gazed across the room to her, tilting his head to the side. He was very much a, “Forgive, forget and then have ice cream,” kind of guy and the fact that she was still upset at all irked him slightly. “I’m having a formal reaction to the shooting today, are you coming?” He attempted to sound cordial but he couldn’t cover a bite of irritation.
The swishing of her spatula came to a sudden stop and she stood still a moment, as though contemplating her words. She turned around and thrust the utensil in his face. “You think that some book can just erase what you did? Is it gonna bring back those people you murdered?”
Sigfried sat and stared at the young woman for a moment before getting up off of the couch in a huff. “Fuck this, I’mma go change the world.” He glanced back from the front door and spat back, “Tell Victoria that she can come if she wants, but she doesn’t have to. She needs her rest, so don’t wake her up.” He slammed the door behind him, storming out into the world.
Skoll and Hati both watched her reaction, which was to generally stomp her foot and mutter to herself in rage. “You know he doesn’t mean ill, he’s just not very good at-“
“Shut up. I don’t want to hear your excuses, Sigfried.” It was easy to tell she didn’t have much patience left. “If you had something to say, you should have said it while you were here.”
The two looked between each other and shared that rare moment of clarity between themselves. The message was, ‘Bitch be crazy.’
Hati looked over to the young cook and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you really get it.” He pointed between them. “We’re not Sigfried. I mean, I guess we kinda are, but we really aren’t.” He made several small gestures with his hands as he attempted to mull through the explanation. “You see, it’s like we’re cut of him, but we’re not actually him, and he doesn’t reall-“
She slammed the spatula against the pan with a bang and stood in silence. Hati took the hint and rolled back into the chair dejectedly. Looking to his brother he whined, “I was just tryin’ to explain man…”
The darker twin shrugged apathetically and pitched the remote forward, turning up the volume. “That was fast. He’s already on.” The two began to gaze blankly at the screen as Sigfried stepped up to the podium. He didn’t seem nervous as they had expected. He grasped the wood in front of him firmly and leaned into the microphone.
“Yesterday, we suffered a great and terrib-“
Victoria’s door swung open with a creak and she stood in the doorway holding a blanket up to her body. “Are those pancakes?” Her voice was barely audible in the room, but her whisper seemed to slice through all other sound. “Blueberry… pancakes?” A thin trail of water raced down her face as all three of the roommates stared blankly at the woman’s apparent sorrow over flapjacks. “Roy and I exchanged information over pancakes…”
Jarka’s eyes sprung open like a tiny explosion, a tiny panic spreading over her body.
“The only answer to this heinous attack against our just cause is retaliation.” Sigfried said the words with conviction. He had not been as well groomed or as fluent as Roy might have been, but he had the spirit. The people didn’t need a dapper politician right now; they needed a sociopath with a podium. He breathed heavy and glowered over the limited crowd that he could allow in the small conference area. Limited was relative. They still numbered in the hundreds, and he was being broadcast live over almost every network. “Take heart, people of Earth, change can be swift. Take heart, and take arms.” There was a wave of murmurs from the newscasters but a roar of justified rage from the rest of the audience.
“We are mankind, and we will not be put down like rabid animals when the government no longer feels us fit to live. We will not be oppressed in droves by the men in special chairs in special buildings that think they are better. No, it is we who are better! We are the fighters! The survivors! The few and the driven who can snatch back this planet from the jaws of madness! WE ARE THE REVOLUTION!” He thrust the flag into the air waved it about over his head as the crowd travelled to the brink of insanity.
He didn’t have to be a good speaker anymore. He just had to mimic the thoughts and feelings of the people and spew them back out at them. It was easy to direct people when they think that you are simply agreeing with them. Fists pounded the air and the room swelled to its bursting limit.
“Go now! Take what you may that you will need and I will assure you that I shall supply the rest! Soon, so very soon, we will take back this planet!” Like his predecessor, he held his hands in the air as his speech finished, allowing the bath of praise shower forth.
It still made him uncomfortable, all that attention.
She looked up to him, revealing massive black pools in her eyes, dilated pupils that came so readily with the use of psychedelics. He didn’t want to judge her, poor thing’s life love just got a sizable hole shot in his head. “Fearless leader,” she uttered in a weary tone. He wasn’t entirely sure if she was making fun of him, if she was just saying things or if she actually meant it.
He tilted his head to the side, curious if he could pry anything out of her in her state as it was. He did feel a bit guilty to proceed in that way, but one more thing to add to the stack couldn’t hurt. “What?” It was a simple question. The best kind.
“Roy’s dead…” She barely uttered the thing. He wondered if she was just raving. “Rank structure dictates that you're now the leader.” Well, she knew that much at least. She might have been from the government, but most likely she would have put a stop to things by now if she was. Maybe she was like Jarka, too wrapped in everything to leave. “No point in keeping secrets now. Point, and I'll kill. But I'm tired. Goodnight.” She ended the conversation quickly. She wasn’t in the mood for Sigfried at the moment, and for that he couldn’t blame her. He was hardly in the mood for himself.
“Victoria, wait, about tha-“ She made it clear that she was done when the closed and locked behind her. In “Roy’s” old room. Roy had never slept there. Roy never slept. Roy went away every night so that Sigfried could think and feel what he was thinking and feeling. Most of it sickened him. Still though, Roy had spent a good amount of time in that room, laying on that bed over the sheets to think. It was like a ritual. He’d wake up in the morning and go think for a while. He was probably trying to remember what had happened the night before, in the nights when he wasn’t there, in the nights when he stopped existing.
Lucky bastard never had to comb his perfect hair or brush his perfect teeth. He just seemed to wake up halfway through his day, able to do whatever it was that he felt like. Then again, Sigfried had given those things up a while ago anyways. He had all but forgotten that he was once a boy that had to eat or drink or brush his teeth or go to the bathroom. Those weren’t things he had to do if he changed into a version of himself that didn’t require those chores. He still had to sleep though. No matter how many times he had changed he had always remembered what it was like to be tired. And hungry. He didn’t really have to eat, but he still felt hungry now and again. It was a reassuring feeling. It made him feel more human, he guessed.
Also, he figured he liked cooking. Whoever didn’t like cooking was retarded in his mind. It was just fun to make something out of random ingredients. You know, sorta like making new people. Skoll and Hati had come accidentally. They just showed up one day, with their own little lives and personalities. Skoll lived in the dorms of all places and Hati had his own damned apartment. It was bigger than Sigfried’s. He didn’t even know he had powers at that point. What a hell of a battle it was to figure that fucking conundrum out.
Speaking of the duo, he knew they had been standing outside for a while now, but he figured they were just shooting the shit. “Hey guys, come on in, huh?” He beckoned their attention by cracking the door and looking out into the hallway. Sure enough, they sat on either side of the doorway with plastic bags in either hand like some kind of homeless vanguard. “Sup.”
The two looked up at him, and Hati grinned. “So is shit going better than it was, like, twenty minutes ago?” Sigfried sort of shrugged and looked up to the ceiling as though to refer to the fact that he guessed so. “Sweet.” The two shambled up quickly off of the ground and stalked into the basement.
Skoll let the bag will a row of those vodka wine cooler things that they sell at the corner shops onto the coffee table and plopped down. “So did you tell Jarka?” He looked at Sigfried with that same dull stabbing judgment that he always had. “I mean, Victoria was totally strung out so I figure you gave her a rest but…”
Sigfried glared over at him from across the rom. “Yeah, I told her. I mean, she didn’t take it the best. Stabbed me.”
Skoll’s eyes widened and pointed at Sigfried enthusiastically. “Is she still here? We can take care of that.” He nodded once, adding emphasis to his statement.
Hati shook his head in irritation. “Dude, leave her alone. That’s a lot of bullshit to deal with. She knew he could take it, he got capped in the dome.” He motioned a false, finger-made gun to his head and let the thumb hammer fall. “Give her some time.”
Skoll shook his head as he cracked a bottle open. “I will never get you.”
Hati cackled, also twisting the top off of a drink. “I think that’s the point.” He chuckled to himself and flung himself at the couch, grabbing the remote.
Sigfried smiled as he watched the two spar. He didn’t know why, but they made him so proud. That little pieces of his brain could go out into the world on their own and be so fucking smart. He guessed it was the closest feeling he’d have to having kids. Not that they were kids or ever had been kids. They were two little people that he just so happened to have made on accident. They were his friends. Jarka was one of his only “real” friends remaining in the world but those two would never ever leave him.
Looking at the slammed shut door, he realized that Jarka might. He understood why she was angry. He didn’t know if he expected her to be all ok with everything. No, in fact he knew he didn’t expect that from her or he would have just told her flat out right away. She was all pissed about Roy dying. Why? He just took the time and effort to shoot himself and she was gonna cry about it? Call me a terrorist one more time, he thought to himself. Sure, those people in the mayor’s office had died. He put a written WARNING in the building before the attack went off. Skoll had run around screaming like a maniac about it. He did all he could, and that’s all that he could ask of himself.
He reached down, grabbed a bottle from the rack, and wrenched the cap off. Taking a long swig, he leaned against the counter and took one of his famous long breaths. Whatever had happened, whatever speed bumps or mistakes he had encountered along the way, this is all going according to plan. As messed up as it was that their delicate emotions had been sullied, this is the way it was supposed to go. He had to remember that he wanted it this way.
Imagine how those people felt, watching their idol die? Hell, it might be better this way, with him dead. He would be less distracted but also the public would be a lot more pissed the Hell off. It would incite the revolution he was looking for. People didn’t need to be violent to elect a mayor, but they needed to get violent to overthrow the government. That’s what really needed to happen in order for change to occur. People had to be ripped out of what they thought was the way it was and allowed to make the world in a way they saw fit. The glory of the revolution would not be in its inspiration, it action or the execution. It would be in the system that sprang from it afterwards.
He took a moment to peer into the future of what might be and basked in the glory that would come with change. He had hoped that the name “Roy Munin” would be the one scribed down in the history books, and he was sure that it would still be the one in bold. He didn’t want his name on this. It wasn’t for glory or money or fame… It was for the people. By the people.
Of the people.
His attentions couldn’t help but wander back to those lonely doors, scarred and scared women within. He needed them more than he would ever admit, not just for the plan but for himself. They were an odd company to keep, a cook and a killer. He knew both well now in such different ways but he knew that this war would not be lead without them.
Sadly, this night was too late for reconciliation. The both needed their time alone. To think of it, so did he. Having the deliberate, calculated wit of Roy back in his head always soothed his troubled mind, but even those sentiments as peace, love and fantastic dictatorial ability did not calm the chaos tonight. It had been just a bit too much, too soon. He hadn’t expected such ridiculous actions as had occurred.
“Hey guys, I’ll be out for a little bit, ok?” Sigfried nodded to the twins and waved. Each knowingly waved in return and he took to the streets.
Normally he would find himself soaring on the wings of a crow right then, but, as was his custom in these moments, he chose to let his long legs walk. Down streets and through filthy alleyways he wandered with his destination in mind. Across the main drag and on to a lesser know street just shot off of it. Down a flight of stairs, show the bouncer an ID.
The bar itself was a square, with each corner a pillar for the ceiling to rest upon. It was a bar that had been dug down into the earth, friendly staffing and over a hundred beers on tap. Ample seating and the food wasn’t terrible either. It was pink night. Two zenni for a whole delicious pint of whatever the fuck you wanted, and it just so happened that Sigfried wanted a red ale.
Sigfried found a familiar seat in the rear of the rectangle, wedging himself next to the tall pillar that everyone seemed to avoid. It was far enough from the entrance that nobody would look there first but he could still see who was coming and going which oddly comforted him. He ordered his beer and lay three zenni on the table. He didn’t mind waiting, though he never seemed to wait long. It was nice to finally be alone, after all the time he had spent with the others, with Roy buzzing around in his head.
It wasn’t hard to let the others go from his mind. In fact, he didn’t think that he had ever really kept tabs on Skoll or Hati. If he had, he probably would have found them out sooner. With just those two wandering about in the world, his mind was blissfully quiet. It was only him, for once. He wasn’t there to pick up girls or chat with the fucking bartender, he just wanted to sit there and let the hours roll by while he drank his delicious, delicious beer.
--=~*/| o |\*~=--
With the rising of the sun came a world fresh and new to Sigfried. It might not have been so optimistic to the other two people in his basement hideout, but damn if he wasn’t chuffed to start a bloody revolution. He would need to act quickly to collect and direct the screaming masses of what he assumed would surely be the masses of blood thirsty populace quivering and dribble slipping from their mouths at the very thought of vengeance.
The man had never suffered from hangovers before he had discovered his terrifying healing factor, but he felt especially fantastic this morning. It was one of the few nights he had slept peacefully in a long time, for all the blood and terror that had happened the night before he was amazed that he had awoken at all. He yawned and stretched, pulling himself up off of the couch and scratching his chest casually. His nail caught on something on his chest that he had never felt before; he looked down to ascertain what it could be. A thin scar was traced just below his collarbone in his chest, where Jarka had stabbed him. Apparently something in his mind had wanted to remember that moment.
With a shrug and another stretch he made his way towards the fridge, cracking it and pulling some of the left over bottles from the twin’s haul out. He considered how bad it was to drink this early in the morning, but he figured he had nothing to lose. It was sort of refreshing to be able to have s a drink in the morning. It reminded him of college again.
College had been fun while it lasted. It was full of misadventures and coming face to face with failure. He did pretty well with failure now, considering how his night had been. He looked down at the oven and wondered if it would help or hinder him to get Jarka’s work station ready for her eventual awakening but finally figured that it would look like he was trying to impose a task on her. She probably didn’t want him fucking with her zone anyways.
He tapped the cover of the book he had bought, left to rest on the stovetop waiting for her and wondered how much of a give-a-shit she had left in her to appreciate it. “Telekinesis and You: A Guide to the Universe of the Mind” It was one of those self-disciplinary books that were published all the time, but it felt like it was an apt gift for the budding specialist. He wasn’t sure how the offer would be received. He forgave himself. He had at least tried.
Turning away from the book, he heard the door swing open to his left and stared in the direction blankly. Jarka stood in her PJ’s, rings under her eyes and hair a mess. She looked pissed off and generally displeased to be awake and alive. Sigfried stood in black boxers with a picture of a baby chicken and a magnet with a plus sign in between them, a bottle of cheap girly booze in his hand.
“Morning,” he said in a flat tone, gawking at her. With a blink, she grabbed the door before slamming it in front of her. He scrambled over to the couch and began pulling his clothing on hastily, despite the fact that he could have simply become a man with clothes on. “Ok, you’re good to go!” He shouted into the air, his arm finishing finding its way through the arm sleeve.
The door opened itself once again and the short chef stormed from her room and to the stove top. She glanced shortly at the book left there before picking it up and placing it off to the side, neither peep nor expression from her. She began to make some sort of breakfast. Sigfried wasn’t paying much attention. The twins wandered in from a long night out, stretching and yawning as they made their way into the living room.
Hati offered a weak smile. “Hey Jarka.” He didn’t bother asking how she slept. Skoll gave her as friendly a nod as he could and the two plopped down on the sofa next to Sigfried. She didn’t turn around or acknowledge either of the two of them and continued playing about with the frying pan and some kind of batter that included a fruit.
Sigfried gazed across the room to her, tilting his head to the side. He was very much a, “Forgive, forget and then have ice cream,” kind of guy and the fact that she was still upset at all irked him slightly. “I’m having a formal reaction to the shooting today, are you coming?” He attempted to sound cordial but he couldn’t cover a bite of irritation.
The swishing of her spatula came to a sudden stop and she stood still a moment, as though contemplating her words. She turned around and thrust the utensil in his face. “You think that some book can just erase what you did? Is it gonna bring back those people you murdered?”
Sigfried sat and stared at the young woman for a moment before getting up off of the couch in a huff. “Fuck this, I’mma go change the world.” He glanced back from the front door and spat back, “Tell Victoria that she can come if she wants, but she doesn’t have to. She needs her rest, so don’t wake her up.” He slammed the door behind him, storming out into the world.
Skoll and Hati both watched her reaction, which was to generally stomp her foot and mutter to herself in rage. “You know he doesn’t mean ill, he’s just not very good at-“
“Shut up. I don’t want to hear your excuses, Sigfried.” It was easy to tell she didn’t have much patience left. “If you had something to say, you should have said it while you were here.”
The two looked between each other and shared that rare moment of clarity between themselves. The message was, ‘Bitch be crazy.’
Hati looked over to the young cook and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you really get it.” He pointed between them. “We’re not Sigfried. I mean, I guess we kinda are, but we really aren’t.” He made several small gestures with his hands as he attempted to mull through the explanation. “You see, it’s like we’re cut of him, but we’re not actually him, and he doesn’t reall-“
She slammed the spatula against the pan with a bang and stood in silence. Hati took the hint and rolled back into the chair dejectedly. Looking to his brother he whined, “I was just tryin’ to explain man…”
The darker twin shrugged apathetically and pitched the remote forward, turning up the volume. “That was fast. He’s already on.” The two began to gaze blankly at the screen as Sigfried stepped up to the podium. He didn’t seem nervous as they had expected. He grasped the wood in front of him firmly and leaned into the microphone.
“Yesterday, we suffered a great and terrib-“
Victoria’s door swung open with a creak and she stood in the doorway holding a blanket up to her body. “Are those pancakes?” Her voice was barely audible in the room, but her whisper seemed to slice through all other sound. “Blueberry… pancakes?” A thin trail of water raced down her face as all three of the roommates stared blankly at the woman’s apparent sorrow over flapjacks. “Roy and I exchanged information over pancakes…”
Jarka’s eyes sprung open like a tiny explosion, a tiny panic spreading over her body.
--=~*/| o |\*~=--
“The only answer to this heinous attack against our just cause is retaliation.” Sigfried said the words with conviction. He had not been as well groomed or as fluent as Roy might have been, but he had the spirit. The people didn’t need a dapper politician right now; they needed a sociopath with a podium. He breathed heavy and glowered over the limited crowd that he could allow in the small conference area. Limited was relative. They still numbered in the hundreds, and he was being broadcast live over almost every network. “Take heart, people of Earth, change can be swift. Take heart, and take arms.” There was a wave of murmurs from the newscasters but a roar of justified rage from the rest of the audience.
“We are mankind, and we will not be put down like rabid animals when the government no longer feels us fit to live. We will not be oppressed in droves by the men in special chairs in special buildings that think they are better. No, it is we who are better! We are the fighters! The survivors! The few and the driven who can snatch back this planet from the jaws of madness! WE ARE THE REVOLUTION!” He thrust the flag into the air waved it about over his head as the crowd travelled to the brink of insanity.
He didn’t have to be a good speaker anymore. He just had to mimic the thoughts and feelings of the people and spew them back out at them. It was easy to direct people when they think that you are simply agreeing with them. Fists pounded the air and the room swelled to its bursting limit.
“Go now! Take what you may that you will need and I will assure you that I shall supply the rest! Soon, so very soon, we will take back this planet!” Like his predecessor, he held his hands in the air as his speech finished, allowing the bath of praise shower forth.
It still made him uncomfortable, all that attention.
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]