Muffin
04-14-06, 10:53 AM
Name: Muffin
-Formerly: ?
-Split: ‘not me’
Age: 16, or 18.
Sex: Male
Race: Inuboy (dog version of a ‘nekoboy.’)
Height: 5’9"
Weight: 140 lbs.
Hair: Lavender
Eyes: Blue
Occupation: "Priestitute" (Priest and part-time prostitute.)
Likes: Blueberry muffins, bunnies, praying, strong drinks, and tight, thusly flattering clothing.
Dislikes: Fighting… mostly fighting. Although ‘not me’ doesn’t really mind. And split ends. Those really suck. Not to mention priest robes. I trip over the hems of those shapeless bags more than I care to admit.
Apperance
I put down my glass of whiskey for a moment and opened a small compact to see if I needed to touch up my dark makeup. I could never tell if those stares were because some face paint had smeared, or because of the question most people were too polite to ask, but figured a stare would answer instead. My lips were still a glistening black, the edges of my eyes were still flawlessly traced with dark kohl, and my eyelashes were still splayed out, giving me more of an innocent look than I usually had. And that was saying something.
It amazed me once-again how pale my skin looked as I wiped away some lipstick from my gleaming fangs. I checked my hair while I was at it. The long, lavender bangs fell just over my carefully shaped eyebrows. The longest of the body of my hair brushed against my shoulders, going back sharply in a V-shape to the nape of my neck. This careful barbering job was disrupted by my perky, dog like ears, almost as dark as my makeup. Small symbols of the god Elsh’matar hung from the hoop earrings at their ends and made a soft jingling noise whenever I moved. They matched the slightly larger symbol swinging from my black, somewhat choking collar, that always remained cool against my skin, but left one hell of a collar hickey. My shoulders were left free by a neck-less, short-sleeved, fishnet shirt that was strapped to my mid-arm by small belts almost identical to my collar and squeezed by my corset to my torso, leaving interesting patterns that were hard for Muffin to explain to the other High Priests. I could wear the corset looser, but I always get carried away with all the straps and strings and Velcro….
I lifted one gloved hand to admire it momentarily. The painfully expensive gloves reached all the way past my elbows, stopping just short of the fishnet shirt. I sighed and returned it to my lap, brushing against a sad excuse of a skirt that I wore for modesty purposes. It was easily attachable and detachable, and its presence helped me obey the clothing rules my favorite bar enforced. My corset attached to similar looking garters that upheld more fishnet. Five-inch-high heeled boots that reached up to right past my knees helped disguise my rather manly calves.
The light orange of dawn peaked through a window and reflected off my small mirror. I snapped the compact shut and took another slug of whiskey. At least I’d had my fun before I had to return. As I left, I dug through my bag for Muffin’s drab priest robes that felt like wearing a silken sack. I tried to come up for a good excuse for the scratches all up and down my back for Muffin to use incase the priests got on his case again, but couldn’t think of one.
Yet as the robe encompassed my body, I felt Muffin return with a wide grin as all the problems of ‘not me’ became forgotten. "Man, I hate this robe," I muttered.
Personality:
I always have a smile on my lips, or some over-dramatic expression... unless it’s ‘not me’s time to be out. I’m usually very happy, and I have a tendency to annoy the other priests with my love for life. But it seems to have made me popular with the younger trainees who aren’t old, scholarly, crotchety old men who have given up on a life outside of their books. I’m also not one to follow rules I don’t like, but I’m definitely no type of trouble starter. I hate fighting; it’s a waste of time. And I’ve broken many a meticulously painted nail before I came to that important conclusion. I guess many people would say I had a split personality, and that’s the best term I can think for it. My ‘not me’ is the one who sells himself to others for money. I know this because I asked, and he told me all about it. He’s really good to me. And we both like most of the same things, if not in exactly the same way.
Items:
I entered the priesthood nothing to my name but a pair of earrings with the symbol of Elsh’matar hanging from them and the large shirt I arrived in. But through "personal donations" ‘not me’ brings in, I started saving up money for the outfit I wear at the "other job." I am constantly buying make-up and accessories for ‘not me,’ who asks me to get things on my occasional trips around town. Besides the robe the temple gave me, that’s it.
Attributes/Weaknesses:
-Weaknesses
My number one weakness would have to be ‘Muffin.’ Not strong willed when it comes to bloodshed, I usually have to look for help in my friends, mostly ‘not me.’
-Fatalities:
I can be killed by normal human means, but you’d have to get past my barriers and ‘not me’ first.
-Strengths:
I am very good at defense barriers, while ‘not me’ is good at intimidating people and the occasional combat. I guess I have something good going on here in a way.
Abilities:
-Defense Barriers: I have to be Muffin while I do this ritual. It is a simple ritual when all things are considered, but to the extent that I can shape it to float or make it just plain good looking was pretty much the driving reason I managed to climb so high in the church hierarchy so quickly. It’s mostly thanks to my blessed earrings, and a touch of nothing-else-to-do-ness. The barrier can block pretty much any head on physical attack, like punches, kicks, sword wacks, whatever. But I haven’t tried it out a lot against actual attacks, so I’m not sure how well it’d do. I read that it can become a full body shield against other rituals, but they don’t say much about magic. And that’s what worries me. But it can't do all of this yet. I bet I can only block some physical attacks.. gives me something to work for, no? I bet a ritual could get past it in no time.. ugh....... Hm.. wait.. could my skills as a prostitute count? Because from what I've heard, 'not me' is pretty good at that.. and it brings in money..
History:
I don’t really remember much. ‘Not me’ says he remembers everything, but he won’t tell me. I vaguely remember a boat. Yes, a boat. Then there wasn’t a boat. I don’t know what happened to the boat, only that I was on the boat for a long time and there were lots of happy people all around me. And then I was off the boat and on the land, living with Erasmus. He called me Muffin, and that’s the only name I know and want.
Erasmus was 15 when I first met him, and he guessed that I was around 10 years old. I didn’t know how old I was. ‘Not me’ did, except at that time he was only an occasional undecipherable whisper in the back of my head. Erasmus was an orphan, just like me, with not much besides the clothes on his back and an abandoned shack to his name. We actually met when one of the bakeries was disposing of their stale bread in their back ally. I was digging through the bag for something edible when he showed up.
"Hey, who’re you?" he asked.
I looked up, ready to dart incase this was some sort of marked territory I was unaware of. He was dressed in a huge sweatshirt, baggy pants rolled up at the bottom, and an over sized bowler hat that almost fully covered his short blond hair. All his clothes were adorned with holes, tatters, and the occasional attempt at fixing them. Also, he seemed rather shocked at my frightened reaction.
"No, I ain’t gunna hurt ya, so don’t be gettin’ all jumpy. Just haven’t seen you around before, that’s all. What’s your name?"
I shrugged. There was a whisper in the back of my head, but I couldn’t make it out.
"Well, I’m Erasmus. Nice ta meet ya!" he greeted, tipping his hat. He reached into an amazingly large pocket in the front of his sweatshirt that I had just assumed to be another ragged patch or hole or something of the sort. He dug around for a second before pulling out a slightly mangled blueberry muffin.
It was the most perfect and beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.
He gestured it towards me, his kind brown eyes twinkling. "Here, you look hungry."
"Me?" I asked, astonishment plain in my voice.
He grinned. "So you can talk! Of course it’s for you, silly!" He laughed as he handed it to me.
I don’t know if I ate it in one bite or twenty, but the effect was the same. It was gone in literally no time at all. I remember my first thought being, "This must be what true happiness feels like." It might have been because it was the first piece of real food I ever remembered having and it consequently left me practically floating, but whatever the cause was, it was a very weird and passing thought.
Erasmus laughed again. "Man, you really were hungry!" He offered me his hand. "Why don’t ya come stay with me? I’ve gotta nice set up a little ways from here." I blinked at him slowly as I returned from my daze. The grin still hadn’t left his face. "I’ll call you Muffin! Cute, no?"
And as I took his hand, I realized that blueberry muffin hadn’t even come close.
>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<
His shack wasn’t very impressive by modern standards, but it had a roof that hardly leaked, a working door, and standing walls that fought off the wind. As far as I was concerned, it was the Silver Pup. There were some blankets in a corner that served as a bed and a small box with a pair of earrings in it. Erasmus explained that they had belonged to his mother, and it was all he had left of his family. He never talked about how they had died, and I never pressed, because I thought he must have forgotten, just like me. When we talked about the earrings, it was the first time I’d ever seen him so sad. It still aches me just thinking about his face like that, so I won’t speak of it again.
I didn’t talk much that first night. I was still kind of freaked out at suddenly being taken into such a nice place for no reason, so I wasn’t my latter talkative self yet. Erasmus on the other hand was monologue-ing about… well, I wasn’t really paying attention, so I’m not sure. I do remember he had a lot to talk about, that was for certain. When I unleashed an uncontrollable yawn in the middle of his rant, he stopped and laughed. Such a happy guy.
"Guess I’m tired, too," he admitted. "Lets get to bed." And on that note, he started taking off his clothes.
I "eeped."
He laughed again.
"Dun worry, I ain’t doin’ nothin’ funny," he assured me as he tossed his hat and shirt to the side. "It’s just practical thinkin’. If you ain’t got nothin’ else to wear, you gotta keep what ya got good for as long as ya can." He stood up as he took off his pants, to reveal that he had somehow acquired underwear. Slightly oversized black boxers. "By not rollin’ ‘round in ‘em at night, they won’t smell as bad in the mornin’." And a couple seconds later he was in the nude and jumping for the covers, chirping something about how cold the nights were around here.
I carefully took of my shirt and dropped it at my side, but hesitated when it came to my pants.
"You don’t have to," he said softly from the ball of blankets.
That just got me determined to overcome my stupid embarrassment. We were just two guys who had one outfit a piece and had to suffer through really cold nights. I stood up and most gracefully kicked my pants off. It really was cold. I hopped over to the blankets, which weren’t two far away, like everything else in that shack. He lifted the covering blankets and I slipped in, tensing up as I brushed against him. His skin was warm against mine… and made me realize how really, really cold I was. Throwing caution to the slight breeze that came through the walls, I rolled towards him and rested my head on his chest.
"Goodnight, Muffin." The smile was apparent in his voice as he pushed away some of the hair that had fallen over my face.
"Thank you," I whispered before drifting off to a dreamless sleep.
>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<
I discovered the next morning that my clothes did smell better after airing out over-night. Not good, but better. Erasmus was still sleeping, so I had to be very quiet in my moving around. I could never sleep very long because the whisper in the back of my head would get louder, to the point I could hear what it was saying, but I couldn’t understand what the words meant. I pulled on my clothes and went outside to relieve myself, standing afterwards for a brief moment in the brisk, pre-dawn air to try to rid myself of the voice. When it had receded to its normal volume, I wandered back inside of the shack to find Erasmus awake and rubbing his eyes sleepily.
"Did I wake you up?" I asked, guilt thick in my voice.
"Naw," he muttered, trying to keep a yawn back. "It’s cool."
I’m not sure if he meant that it was fine, or that my leaving had made him cold, but whatever it meant, I stood their awkwardly. This in turn made him grin again for whatever reason and wave me towards him. I took a few tentative stepped towards him. He kept waving me forward and down until I was squatting in front of him. The grin dimmed until he looked almost sad. A surprisingly shy hand reached forward and caressed my cheek in passing, then grabbed the back of my head and pulled me to his chest. He pressed his lips again the top of my head.
"I thought you had left me."
"No, I didn’t."
(At this point, I could have said something dramatic and cliché like "I’ll never leave you" or "I’ll be with you to until the end of the earth." And what did I say? "No, I didn’t." I still haven’t forgiven myself for that.)
We stayed like that for a little while until I felt the trademark grin forming against the top of my head. He pushed me back and looked me in the face, again his unexplainably happy self. "I’m hungry!" he proclaimed. "Lets get somethin’ ta eat!"
"Lets!" I agreed.
He got dressed with dramatic valor before leading the way to his favorite breakfast alley.
>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<
And in this manner, the years passed. It was Erasmus’ who kept track of the days. He seemed to always know when the anniversary of our meeting came around, and it was on that day that we splurged on a fresh blueberry muffin, then walked hand in hand to a stream to sit and enjoy the small luxury. It was six years later, when he was 21 and I was 16, that this day didn’t only represent the day we had met.
Let me set up the prelude to this. More and more often, he was talking with people I didn’t know on our walks around town, getting money from them, trading packages, things like that. I’d ask, and he would just say it was someone he worked with. He introduced me every once in a while, and the people always patted me on the head with a smile, as if they already knew me. He obviously had this job since before I knew him, but it was starting to take over his life. Even though it was his job and his business, I didn’t like not knowing what he was doing when he told me to wait at home while he took care of something. I knew something was really wrong when the grin was frequently disappearing. So I asked, after we had finished our blueberry muffin and were lounging on the grassy shore, admiring the blue sky.
"Erasmus, what is your job?" The words were blurted out and kind of jumbled, for all my careful planning went to no use.
There was an uncommon tension in the air as the grin left his face with a sigh. "Not a good one," he replied.
I wasn’t giving up now. "Like what?"
"I do lots of bad jobs for lots of bad people, but we need the money." I could hear the pain in his voice, and realized that I was part of the cause. What had I ever done to help besides just being another burden?
"I’m sorry," I whispered.
A small smile formed on his face. "Come over here," he said, gesturing with his hand as he sat up.
I crawled over and sat facing his side. The grin sprung out again as he reached over, grabbed me by my ribcage, and lifted me to him so I was straddling his lap and facing him. It was amazing, even after all this time, I still blushed and looked at the ground whenever put under his intent gaze. He reached up and held the sides of my face, moving my head so I had to face him. Once he caught my eyes, I couldn’t have looked away even if he let me go.
"Now don’t you be worryin’," he said. "Money is not for you to worry about."
I nodded as best I could between his hands.
He grinned even wider. "That’s what I like to hear!"
I couldn’t help but smile as I broke from his grasp and dove forward to hug him, and with a great deal of talent knocked him over. We both laughed. He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me tight to him as the laughs racked our bodies.
When the laughing had almost subsided, Erasmus flipped us over so he was top, and the laughing was over as suddenly as it had started. He supported himself with his elbows to keep from crushing my upper body, but let his lower half press in-between my legs. He brushed his cheek against mine, making my breath hitch. I unconsciously pushed my pelvis up to him. He didn’t seem to notice as he continued by tracing my jaw line with his lips.
"I love you."
Erasmus froze. It took me a second before I realized that I had been the one to say that. I gasped. He lifted himself onto his hands and looked down at me, an amazed expression on his face. "What did you say?" he asked.
"I… love you," I repeated, adrenaline making my voice waver.
He adjusted the lower half of his body, and I had to look away and bite my lip when I throbbed in response. "Say it again," he whispered, going back down to stroke my neck with his tongue.
"I love you," I said with more confidence, although it didn’t sound like it. His caresses were tickling my collar and my breathing had become uneven. "I love y…MMPH!" The last word was muffled by a short, fierce kiss.
"Nobody’s ever said that to me," he whispered, barely an inch from my face, "not since my mother died."
I reached up and smoothed back his messy blond hair before deftly pulling him down to me for a longer kiss. It was so gentle, so wonderful, so… beautiful… it was what I had been waiting for all these years… since I took that hand offered to me in the alleyway behind a baker’s…
"Ah, how sweet."
Erasmus froze before slowly pulling away and looking up. I followed his gaze to see an icky looking man in a black suit with hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in a long time, then brushed backwards. There were two similar men standing behind him. Ew. Well, who ever they were better leave, I remember thinking. It had taken me six years of sleeping naked with this man to get this far, and some disgusting looking men weren’t going to ruin it for me!
Erasmus turned around and blocked me with his body. "What do you want," he hissed.
"You haven’t paid up yet," the icky man said.
"I have three more days." I had never heard Erasmus sound so angry.
"We’ve gotten impatient," the still icky man answered. "We want the money now."
Erasmus made a slight move, as if he was trying to keep me from their sights as much as he possibly could. "I don’t have it," he whispered in defeat.
"Who’s that behind you?" the icky man asked, changing the immediate topic.
"He has nothing to do with this!" Erasmus shouted. "This doesn’t concern him!"
The icky man grinned, then made a beckoning gesture to his guards. The guards stepped forward and dragged Erasmus kicking and screaming away from me and back to their previous position. Then they made him watch as the icky man raped me.
Or that’s what I think happened, because that’s another memory that was taken away from me.
I came to in Erasmus’ shirt, not knowing where my own clothes had gone. I looked around and saw that I was in our shack in the sleeping corner, covered with blankets. I looked around and saw Erasmus was sitting against the furthest away wall in only his pants, his warm brown eyes watching me.
"You awake?" he asked in a cracking voice.
I nodded and adjusted my position. I was sore all over.
"I’m so sorry," he added in the same voice. I saw a tear roll down his cheek. "I’m so sorry."
I wasn’t sure what to do… I still wasn’t fully sure what had happened. I reached out to him. He crawled over and pulled me into an embrace. I flinched as his touch hit what felt like open wounds. He brushed one of my shoulders with his fingertips. It felt like there were more wounds there.
"I’m so sorry," he repeated. "I couldn’t save you."
"You already have," I said, speaking the truth, sappy as it may sound.
"We need to go somewhere," he continued, as if he hadn’t heard me. "Somewhere so they can’t get you again."
"Where?" I asked.
He stood up, picking me up as he did so, and carried me over to the door. He leaned over and grabbed the box with his mother’s earrings in it on the way out.
"Where are we going?" I asked again.
He didn’t respond.
I just buried my face in his bare shoulder as he carried me to wherever the destination was. He smelt faintly of sweat, dirt, and the muffin we had shared earlier.
When I felt a change in his pace, I looked up and realized that we were going up the steps to the temple of Elsh’matar, the god of protection. "What are we doing here?" I asked, looking around myself at the overly decorative surroundings. We could probably be fed for a year with the profits from just one of those strange carvings.
Erasmus remained silent as he pushed the large entry door open with his shoulder and most of his body weight. There was an old-man sitting at a large desk, looking us over with one eyebrow cocked. We must have been an interesting sight.
"How can I help you?" he asked in a haughty voice.
Erasmus replied, "This boy would like to join your priesthood."
I choked on air. He had to be kidding.
The man at the desk appeared to have done the same thing. "Well, we can’t just take in anybody into our priest hood," he said with a discombobulated waver in his voice.
Erasmus dropped the box onto the desk. "Take a look at those and then answer me again."
The man at the desk picked up the box and opened it. His face changed from a flustered expression to one practically glowing in amazement. "By Lord Elsh’matar Himself, these earring are unbelievable! I have few times in my life seen a symbol of him so heavily blessed."
"They belong to this boy," Erasmus said.
I looked at him. "Huh?"
He put me down onto my feet. "I have to go ‘n’ deal with those men." He held my chin so looked him in the face. "I need you to stay here until I come back for ya so they won’t be hurtin’ you ‘gain. Now, once ya get those earrin’s on, dun eva take ‘em off."
"Will you come back soon?" I whispered.
Erasmus sighed. "I dun know, my little Muffin. It might be a time." Making sure the man at the desk was still fully distracted by the earrings, he gave me a soft kiss. "I will be back for you," he whispered. He let go of my chin and pulled me to him. "No question ‘bout that."
I hugged him as best I could around his strong shoulders, trying to remember how he felt, how he smelled, the sound of his voice… I didn’t want him to leave me, but if he had to, I wasn’t going to make this any harder. I would have a perfect memory of him, just for me and no one else. "I love you," I whispered. "Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou."
"I love you more," he replied just as softly, so softly it took me a second to figure out what he said. He had never said that before, so it threw me off for a second. It ended up in me hugging him harder.
"I don’t mean to break up such a heartbreaking goodbye," the man at the desk said, "but I must be taking this boy to the High Priest now."
Erasmus pulled back from me and ruffled my hair. "Now you be a good Muffin, y’hear?" he said in his normal happy voice, one of his big grins spread out across his face. I wiped a tear away that had started forming in the corner of my eye as I nodded vigorously in response.
He kissed my forehead and left.
"Let’s get moving," the man at the desk, no longer at the desk, said, his nose in the air and his robes flowing in a trained manner.
I smiled and followed him, giving the door one last glance. He’d come back soon.
>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<
I went through a really weird initiation that I’m not allowed to talk about, and I’d rather not. I was taken into the ranks almost immediately following the High Priest seeing the earrings. That night, as I sat in my room in the temple that was bigger than the home I had previously lived in, I pierced my ears in the most graceful of ways: by stabbing the earrings right through my ears. It was very bloody, required a lot of towels, and hurt like mother f-ing hell, but I let myself heal shut around the earrings so I would never loose them. Once they had clotted, I pushed my hands together, fell to my knees, and let forth my first true prayer to Elsh’matar: "Please protect Erasmus as You see fit. I shall forever be in Your debt and serve You to the end of my ability." It was a simple prayer, almost straight out of the books the High Priest gave me to read, but it covered all I needed to say. For every night that followed, I said that prayer, and put all my soul into the belief it was working.
>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<
In the week that followed, I passed the time by reading through books of rituals, mostly ones of materializing shields because it seemed the most flashy out of the selection, and I wanted to impress Erasmus when he came back for me. But it was especially hard because that voice was back, and louder than before.
At the end of a repetitive day full of training by surprisingly mean priests, I fell into my bed with a loud POOF. I was exhausted, but I knew I faced another sleepless night of murmurings in the back of my head. I had sat up to say my nightly prayer when I heard a voice.
This prayer thing is starting to get old.
"Huh?" I looked around, but my door was still shut, as was my window.
Ah, so you can finally hear me. That’s good. I was getting lonely. The voice laughed.
"Where are you?" I asked, trying to sound calm and failing. "Who are you?"
I’m in your head, you know, that "murmur."
"Oh. Really?" A smile spread across my face. "Nice to finally meet you."
Yeah, you wouldn’t remember me, would you?
"What do you mean?"
I’m the one who takes all those memories of the really, really bad things. So you wouldn’t remember because I have those memories now.
"You remember what happened to me before?"
Yeah. But I’m not going to tell you.
"Why not?"
Because I wouldn’t have a purpose then.
"Oh… ok, I guess."
You see, I am the half that holds the memories that are too much for you to handle.
"So… you’re me, but not me at the same time. You’re ‘not me.’"
Wow, you’re horrible at naming things.
I pouted.
But who can blame you? Your name is Muffin. I could tell you what your real name is.
"No! I like Muffin."
Ok, fine, how about this? You’re actually 18.
"But Erasmus said I was 16."
He was wrong.
"Was not."
Sure. Believe him, not the holder of all your forgotten memories.
"I will."
Eesh, stop being such a baby! ‘Not me’ is a fine name to call me.
I grinned.
‘Not me’ laughed. You’re easy to please.
"Why do people keep saying that?"
Maybe ‘cause it’s true.
I poked my tongue out.
‘Not me’ laughed again. For some reason, the laughing didn’t come across in the same way it had from Erasmus. How about after your prayer, you let me out for a bit? You can sleep really well then.
"Ok!" I agreed. Sleeping sounded nice. I went to my praying position and recited my prayer.
"Please protect Erasmus as You see fit. I shall forever be in Your debt and serve You to the end of my ability." I paused. "And ‘not me,’ too, if You wouldn’t mind, that is."
I had a feeling not me was grinning. Thanks.
"Have fun!" I chirped. I fell back onto the bed. A slight shiver went through me, and I was asleep. Oh, what a wonderful, dreamless sleep.
I woke up after that refreshing sleep more sore than I had been the previous day. The wounds from a week ago had finally started healing, but they hurt all anew.
"By Elsh’matar, ‘not me!’ What did you do last night?"
Had fun.
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I had a bad feeling. "Well, if you’re going to have fun, at least do something productive with it instead of just making me hurt!"
So he started bringing home money.
Welcome to my new life.
It’s about 8 months later now. I’m pretty high in the monarchy, and I’ve gotten closer and closer to ‘not me.’ Every time I’m insulted by one of the older priests or am just having a bad day, ‘not me’ is there begging to be out so he can beat the shit out of the cause of my pain. He’s a good guy. I don’t let him out against the priests, though. That would just cause me more problems.
Erasmus, come get me soon… I have so much to show you!
-Formerly: ?
-Split: ‘not me’
Age: 16, or 18.
Sex: Male
Race: Inuboy (dog version of a ‘nekoboy.’)
Height: 5’9"
Weight: 140 lbs.
Hair: Lavender
Eyes: Blue
Occupation: "Priestitute" (Priest and part-time prostitute.)
Likes: Blueberry muffins, bunnies, praying, strong drinks, and tight, thusly flattering clothing.
Dislikes: Fighting… mostly fighting. Although ‘not me’ doesn’t really mind. And split ends. Those really suck. Not to mention priest robes. I trip over the hems of those shapeless bags more than I care to admit.
Apperance
I put down my glass of whiskey for a moment and opened a small compact to see if I needed to touch up my dark makeup. I could never tell if those stares were because some face paint had smeared, or because of the question most people were too polite to ask, but figured a stare would answer instead. My lips were still a glistening black, the edges of my eyes were still flawlessly traced with dark kohl, and my eyelashes were still splayed out, giving me more of an innocent look than I usually had. And that was saying something.
It amazed me once-again how pale my skin looked as I wiped away some lipstick from my gleaming fangs. I checked my hair while I was at it. The long, lavender bangs fell just over my carefully shaped eyebrows. The longest of the body of my hair brushed against my shoulders, going back sharply in a V-shape to the nape of my neck. This careful barbering job was disrupted by my perky, dog like ears, almost as dark as my makeup. Small symbols of the god Elsh’matar hung from the hoop earrings at their ends and made a soft jingling noise whenever I moved. They matched the slightly larger symbol swinging from my black, somewhat choking collar, that always remained cool against my skin, but left one hell of a collar hickey. My shoulders were left free by a neck-less, short-sleeved, fishnet shirt that was strapped to my mid-arm by small belts almost identical to my collar and squeezed by my corset to my torso, leaving interesting patterns that were hard for Muffin to explain to the other High Priests. I could wear the corset looser, but I always get carried away with all the straps and strings and Velcro….
I lifted one gloved hand to admire it momentarily. The painfully expensive gloves reached all the way past my elbows, stopping just short of the fishnet shirt. I sighed and returned it to my lap, brushing against a sad excuse of a skirt that I wore for modesty purposes. It was easily attachable and detachable, and its presence helped me obey the clothing rules my favorite bar enforced. My corset attached to similar looking garters that upheld more fishnet. Five-inch-high heeled boots that reached up to right past my knees helped disguise my rather manly calves.
The light orange of dawn peaked through a window and reflected off my small mirror. I snapped the compact shut and took another slug of whiskey. At least I’d had my fun before I had to return. As I left, I dug through my bag for Muffin’s drab priest robes that felt like wearing a silken sack. I tried to come up for a good excuse for the scratches all up and down my back for Muffin to use incase the priests got on his case again, but couldn’t think of one.
Yet as the robe encompassed my body, I felt Muffin return with a wide grin as all the problems of ‘not me’ became forgotten. "Man, I hate this robe," I muttered.
Personality:
I always have a smile on my lips, or some over-dramatic expression... unless it’s ‘not me’s time to be out. I’m usually very happy, and I have a tendency to annoy the other priests with my love for life. But it seems to have made me popular with the younger trainees who aren’t old, scholarly, crotchety old men who have given up on a life outside of their books. I’m also not one to follow rules I don’t like, but I’m definitely no type of trouble starter. I hate fighting; it’s a waste of time. And I’ve broken many a meticulously painted nail before I came to that important conclusion. I guess many people would say I had a split personality, and that’s the best term I can think for it. My ‘not me’ is the one who sells himself to others for money. I know this because I asked, and he told me all about it. He’s really good to me. And we both like most of the same things, if not in exactly the same way.
Items:
I entered the priesthood nothing to my name but a pair of earrings with the symbol of Elsh’matar hanging from them and the large shirt I arrived in. But through "personal donations" ‘not me’ brings in, I started saving up money for the outfit I wear at the "other job." I am constantly buying make-up and accessories for ‘not me,’ who asks me to get things on my occasional trips around town. Besides the robe the temple gave me, that’s it.
Attributes/Weaknesses:
-Weaknesses
My number one weakness would have to be ‘Muffin.’ Not strong willed when it comes to bloodshed, I usually have to look for help in my friends, mostly ‘not me.’
-Fatalities:
I can be killed by normal human means, but you’d have to get past my barriers and ‘not me’ first.
-Strengths:
I am very good at defense barriers, while ‘not me’ is good at intimidating people and the occasional combat. I guess I have something good going on here in a way.
Abilities:
-Defense Barriers: I have to be Muffin while I do this ritual. It is a simple ritual when all things are considered, but to the extent that I can shape it to float or make it just plain good looking was pretty much the driving reason I managed to climb so high in the church hierarchy so quickly. It’s mostly thanks to my blessed earrings, and a touch of nothing-else-to-do-ness. The barrier can block pretty much any head on physical attack, like punches, kicks, sword wacks, whatever. But I haven’t tried it out a lot against actual attacks, so I’m not sure how well it’d do. I read that it can become a full body shield against other rituals, but they don’t say much about magic. And that’s what worries me. But it can't do all of this yet. I bet I can only block some physical attacks.. gives me something to work for, no? I bet a ritual could get past it in no time.. ugh....... Hm.. wait.. could my skills as a prostitute count? Because from what I've heard, 'not me' is pretty good at that.. and it brings in money..
History:
I don’t really remember much. ‘Not me’ says he remembers everything, but he won’t tell me. I vaguely remember a boat. Yes, a boat. Then there wasn’t a boat. I don’t know what happened to the boat, only that I was on the boat for a long time and there were lots of happy people all around me. And then I was off the boat and on the land, living with Erasmus. He called me Muffin, and that’s the only name I know and want.
Erasmus was 15 when I first met him, and he guessed that I was around 10 years old. I didn’t know how old I was. ‘Not me’ did, except at that time he was only an occasional undecipherable whisper in the back of my head. Erasmus was an orphan, just like me, with not much besides the clothes on his back and an abandoned shack to his name. We actually met when one of the bakeries was disposing of their stale bread in their back ally. I was digging through the bag for something edible when he showed up.
"Hey, who’re you?" he asked.
I looked up, ready to dart incase this was some sort of marked territory I was unaware of. He was dressed in a huge sweatshirt, baggy pants rolled up at the bottom, and an over sized bowler hat that almost fully covered his short blond hair. All his clothes were adorned with holes, tatters, and the occasional attempt at fixing them. Also, he seemed rather shocked at my frightened reaction.
"No, I ain’t gunna hurt ya, so don’t be gettin’ all jumpy. Just haven’t seen you around before, that’s all. What’s your name?"
I shrugged. There was a whisper in the back of my head, but I couldn’t make it out.
"Well, I’m Erasmus. Nice ta meet ya!" he greeted, tipping his hat. He reached into an amazingly large pocket in the front of his sweatshirt that I had just assumed to be another ragged patch or hole or something of the sort. He dug around for a second before pulling out a slightly mangled blueberry muffin.
It was the most perfect and beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.
He gestured it towards me, his kind brown eyes twinkling. "Here, you look hungry."
"Me?" I asked, astonishment plain in my voice.
He grinned. "So you can talk! Of course it’s for you, silly!" He laughed as he handed it to me.
I don’t know if I ate it in one bite or twenty, but the effect was the same. It was gone in literally no time at all. I remember my first thought being, "This must be what true happiness feels like." It might have been because it was the first piece of real food I ever remembered having and it consequently left me practically floating, but whatever the cause was, it was a very weird and passing thought.
Erasmus laughed again. "Man, you really were hungry!" He offered me his hand. "Why don’t ya come stay with me? I’ve gotta nice set up a little ways from here." I blinked at him slowly as I returned from my daze. The grin still hadn’t left his face. "I’ll call you Muffin! Cute, no?"
And as I took his hand, I realized that blueberry muffin hadn’t even come close.
>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<
His shack wasn’t very impressive by modern standards, but it had a roof that hardly leaked, a working door, and standing walls that fought off the wind. As far as I was concerned, it was the Silver Pup. There were some blankets in a corner that served as a bed and a small box with a pair of earrings in it. Erasmus explained that they had belonged to his mother, and it was all he had left of his family. He never talked about how they had died, and I never pressed, because I thought he must have forgotten, just like me. When we talked about the earrings, it was the first time I’d ever seen him so sad. It still aches me just thinking about his face like that, so I won’t speak of it again.
I didn’t talk much that first night. I was still kind of freaked out at suddenly being taken into such a nice place for no reason, so I wasn’t my latter talkative self yet. Erasmus on the other hand was monologue-ing about… well, I wasn’t really paying attention, so I’m not sure. I do remember he had a lot to talk about, that was for certain. When I unleashed an uncontrollable yawn in the middle of his rant, he stopped and laughed. Such a happy guy.
"Guess I’m tired, too," he admitted. "Lets get to bed." And on that note, he started taking off his clothes.
I "eeped."
He laughed again.
"Dun worry, I ain’t doin’ nothin’ funny," he assured me as he tossed his hat and shirt to the side. "It’s just practical thinkin’. If you ain’t got nothin’ else to wear, you gotta keep what ya got good for as long as ya can." He stood up as he took off his pants, to reveal that he had somehow acquired underwear. Slightly oversized black boxers. "By not rollin’ ‘round in ‘em at night, they won’t smell as bad in the mornin’." And a couple seconds later he was in the nude and jumping for the covers, chirping something about how cold the nights were around here.
I carefully took of my shirt and dropped it at my side, but hesitated when it came to my pants.
"You don’t have to," he said softly from the ball of blankets.
That just got me determined to overcome my stupid embarrassment. We were just two guys who had one outfit a piece and had to suffer through really cold nights. I stood up and most gracefully kicked my pants off. It really was cold. I hopped over to the blankets, which weren’t two far away, like everything else in that shack. He lifted the covering blankets and I slipped in, tensing up as I brushed against him. His skin was warm against mine… and made me realize how really, really cold I was. Throwing caution to the slight breeze that came through the walls, I rolled towards him and rested my head on his chest.
"Goodnight, Muffin." The smile was apparent in his voice as he pushed away some of the hair that had fallen over my face.
"Thank you," I whispered before drifting off to a dreamless sleep.
>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<
I discovered the next morning that my clothes did smell better after airing out over-night. Not good, but better. Erasmus was still sleeping, so I had to be very quiet in my moving around. I could never sleep very long because the whisper in the back of my head would get louder, to the point I could hear what it was saying, but I couldn’t understand what the words meant. I pulled on my clothes and went outside to relieve myself, standing afterwards for a brief moment in the brisk, pre-dawn air to try to rid myself of the voice. When it had receded to its normal volume, I wandered back inside of the shack to find Erasmus awake and rubbing his eyes sleepily.
"Did I wake you up?" I asked, guilt thick in my voice.
"Naw," he muttered, trying to keep a yawn back. "It’s cool."
I’m not sure if he meant that it was fine, or that my leaving had made him cold, but whatever it meant, I stood their awkwardly. This in turn made him grin again for whatever reason and wave me towards him. I took a few tentative stepped towards him. He kept waving me forward and down until I was squatting in front of him. The grin dimmed until he looked almost sad. A surprisingly shy hand reached forward and caressed my cheek in passing, then grabbed the back of my head and pulled me to his chest. He pressed his lips again the top of my head.
"I thought you had left me."
"No, I didn’t."
(At this point, I could have said something dramatic and cliché like "I’ll never leave you" or "I’ll be with you to until the end of the earth." And what did I say? "No, I didn’t." I still haven’t forgiven myself for that.)
We stayed like that for a little while until I felt the trademark grin forming against the top of my head. He pushed me back and looked me in the face, again his unexplainably happy self. "I’m hungry!" he proclaimed. "Lets get somethin’ ta eat!"
"Lets!" I agreed.
He got dressed with dramatic valor before leading the way to his favorite breakfast alley.
>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<
And in this manner, the years passed. It was Erasmus’ who kept track of the days. He seemed to always know when the anniversary of our meeting came around, and it was on that day that we splurged on a fresh blueberry muffin, then walked hand in hand to a stream to sit and enjoy the small luxury. It was six years later, when he was 21 and I was 16, that this day didn’t only represent the day we had met.
Let me set up the prelude to this. More and more often, he was talking with people I didn’t know on our walks around town, getting money from them, trading packages, things like that. I’d ask, and he would just say it was someone he worked with. He introduced me every once in a while, and the people always patted me on the head with a smile, as if they already knew me. He obviously had this job since before I knew him, but it was starting to take over his life. Even though it was his job and his business, I didn’t like not knowing what he was doing when he told me to wait at home while he took care of something. I knew something was really wrong when the grin was frequently disappearing. So I asked, after we had finished our blueberry muffin and were lounging on the grassy shore, admiring the blue sky.
"Erasmus, what is your job?" The words were blurted out and kind of jumbled, for all my careful planning went to no use.
There was an uncommon tension in the air as the grin left his face with a sigh. "Not a good one," he replied.
I wasn’t giving up now. "Like what?"
"I do lots of bad jobs for lots of bad people, but we need the money." I could hear the pain in his voice, and realized that I was part of the cause. What had I ever done to help besides just being another burden?
"I’m sorry," I whispered.
A small smile formed on his face. "Come over here," he said, gesturing with his hand as he sat up.
I crawled over and sat facing his side. The grin sprung out again as he reached over, grabbed me by my ribcage, and lifted me to him so I was straddling his lap and facing him. It was amazing, even after all this time, I still blushed and looked at the ground whenever put under his intent gaze. He reached up and held the sides of my face, moving my head so I had to face him. Once he caught my eyes, I couldn’t have looked away even if he let me go.
"Now don’t you be worryin’," he said. "Money is not for you to worry about."
I nodded as best I could between his hands.
He grinned even wider. "That’s what I like to hear!"
I couldn’t help but smile as I broke from his grasp and dove forward to hug him, and with a great deal of talent knocked him over. We both laughed. He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me tight to him as the laughs racked our bodies.
When the laughing had almost subsided, Erasmus flipped us over so he was top, and the laughing was over as suddenly as it had started. He supported himself with his elbows to keep from crushing my upper body, but let his lower half press in-between my legs. He brushed his cheek against mine, making my breath hitch. I unconsciously pushed my pelvis up to him. He didn’t seem to notice as he continued by tracing my jaw line with his lips.
"I love you."
Erasmus froze. It took me a second before I realized that I had been the one to say that. I gasped. He lifted himself onto his hands and looked down at me, an amazed expression on his face. "What did you say?" he asked.
"I… love you," I repeated, adrenaline making my voice waver.
He adjusted the lower half of his body, and I had to look away and bite my lip when I throbbed in response. "Say it again," he whispered, going back down to stroke my neck with his tongue.
"I love you," I said with more confidence, although it didn’t sound like it. His caresses were tickling my collar and my breathing had become uneven. "I love y…MMPH!" The last word was muffled by a short, fierce kiss.
"Nobody’s ever said that to me," he whispered, barely an inch from my face, "not since my mother died."
I reached up and smoothed back his messy blond hair before deftly pulling him down to me for a longer kiss. It was so gentle, so wonderful, so… beautiful… it was what I had been waiting for all these years… since I took that hand offered to me in the alleyway behind a baker’s…
"Ah, how sweet."
Erasmus froze before slowly pulling away and looking up. I followed his gaze to see an icky looking man in a black suit with hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in a long time, then brushed backwards. There were two similar men standing behind him. Ew. Well, who ever they were better leave, I remember thinking. It had taken me six years of sleeping naked with this man to get this far, and some disgusting looking men weren’t going to ruin it for me!
Erasmus turned around and blocked me with his body. "What do you want," he hissed.
"You haven’t paid up yet," the icky man said.
"I have three more days." I had never heard Erasmus sound so angry.
"We’ve gotten impatient," the still icky man answered. "We want the money now."
Erasmus made a slight move, as if he was trying to keep me from their sights as much as he possibly could. "I don’t have it," he whispered in defeat.
"Who’s that behind you?" the icky man asked, changing the immediate topic.
"He has nothing to do with this!" Erasmus shouted. "This doesn’t concern him!"
The icky man grinned, then made a beckoning gesture to his guards. The guards stepped forward and dragged Erasmus kicking and screaming away from me and back to their previous position. Then they made him watch as the icky man raped me.
Or that’s what I think happened, because that’s another memory that was taken away from me.
I came to in Erasmus’ shirt, not knowing where my own clothes had gone. I looked around and saw that I was in our shack in the sleeping corner, covered with blankets. I looked around and saw Erasmus was sitting against the furthest away wall in only his pants, his warm brown eyes watching me.
"You awake?" he asked in a cracking voice.
I nodded and adjusted my position. I was sore all over.
"I’m so sorry," he added in the same voice. I saw a tear roll down his cheek. "I’m so sorry."
I wasn’t sure what to do… I still wasn’t fully sure what had happened. I reached out to him. He crawled over and pulled me into an embrace. I flinched as his touch hit what felt like open wounds. He brushed one of my shoulders with his fingertips. It felt like there were more wounds there.
"I’m so sorry," he repeated. "I couldn’t save you."
"You already have," I said, speaking the truth, sappy as it may sound.
"We need to go somewhere," he continued, as if he hadn’t heard me. "Somewhere so they can’t get you again."
"Where?" I asked.
He stood up, picking me up as he did so, and carried me over to the door. He leaned over and grabbed the box with his mother’s earrings in it on the way out.
"Where are we going?" I asked again.
He didn’t respond.
I just buried my face in his bare shoulder as he carried me to wherever the destination was. He smelt faintly of sweat, dirt, and the muffin we had shared earlier.
When I felt a change in his pace, I looked up and realized that we were going up the steps to the temple of Elsh’matar, the god of protection. "What are we doing here?" I asked, looking around myself at the overly decorative surroundings. We could probably be fed for a year with the profits from just one of those strange carvings.
Erasmus remained silent as he pushed the large entry door open with his shoulder and most of his body weight. There was an old-man sitting at a large desk, looking us over with one eyebrow cocked. We must have been an interesting sight.
"How can I help you?" he asked in a haughty voice.
Erasmus replied, "This boy would like to join your priesthood."
I choked on air. He had to be kidding.
The man at the desk appeared to have done the same thing. "Well, we can’t just take in anybody into our priest hood," he said with a discombobulated waver in his voice.
Erasmus dropped the box onto the desk. "Take a look at those and then answer me again."
The man at the desk picked up the box and opened it. His face changed from a flustered expression to one practically glowing in amazement. "By Lord Elsh’matar Himself, these earring are unbelievable! I have few times in my life seen a symbol of him so heavily blessed."
"They belong to this boy," Erasmus said.
I looked at him. "Huh?"
He put me down onto my feet. "I have to go ‘n’ deal with those men." He held my chin so looked him in the face. "I need you to stay here until I come back for ya so they won’t be hurtin’ you ‘gain. Now, once ya get those earrin’s on, dun eva take ‘em off."
"Will you come back soon?" I whispered.
Erasmus sighed. "I dun know, my little Muffin. It might be a time." Making sure the man at the desk was still fully distracted by the earrings, he gave me a soft kiss. "I will be back for you," he whispered. He let go of my chin and pulled me to him. "No question ‘bout that."
I hugged him as best I could around his strong shoulders, trying to remember how he felt, how he smelled, the sound of his voice… I didn’t want him to leave me, but if he had to, I wasn’t going to make this any harder. I would have a perfect memory of him, just for me and no one else. "I love you," I whispered. "Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou."
"I love you more," he replied just as softly, so softly it took me a second to figure out what he said. He had never said that before, so it threw me off for a second. It ended up in me hugging him harder.
"I don’t mean to break up such a heartbreaking goodbye," the man at the desk said, "but I must be taking this boy to the High Priest now."
Erasmus pulled back from me and ruffled my hair. "Now you be a good Muffin, y’hear?" he said in his normal happy voice, one of his big grins spread out across his face. I wiped a tear away that had started forming in the corner of my eye as I nodded vigorously in response.
He kissed my forehead and left.
"Let’s get moving," the man at the desk, no longer at the desk, said, his nose in the air and his robes flowing in a trained manner.
I smiled and followed him, giving the door one last glance. He’d come back soon.
>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<
I went through a really weird initiation that I’m not allowed to talk about, and I’d rather not. I was taken into the ranks almost immediately following the High Priest seeing the earrings. That night, as I sat in my room in the temple that was bigger than the home I had previously lived in, I pierced my ears in the most graceful of ways: by stabbing the earrings right through my ears. It was very bloody, required a lot of towels, and hurt like mother f-ing hell, but I let myself heal shut around the earrings so I would never loose them. Once they had clotted, I pushed my hands together, fell to my knees, and let forth my first true prayer to Elsh’matar: "Please protect Erasmus as You see fit. I shall forever be in Your debt and serve You to the end of my ability." It was a simple prayer, almost straight out of the books the High Priest gave me to read, but it covered all I needed to say. For every night that followed, I said that prayer, and put all my soul into the belief it was working.
>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<
In the week that followed, I passed the time by reading through books of rituals, mostly ones of materializing shields because it seemed the most flashy out of the selection, and I wanted to impress Erasmus when he came back for me. But it was especially hard because that voice was back, and louder than before.
At the end of a repetitive day full of training by surprisingly mean priests, I fell into my bed with a loud POOF. I was exhausted, but I knew I faced another sleepless night of murmurings in the back of my head. I had sat up to say my nightly prayer when I heard a voice.
This prayer thing is starting to get old.
"Huh?" I looked around, but my door was still shut, as was my window.
Ah, so you can finally hear me. That’s good. I was getting lonely. The voice laughed.
"Where are you?" I asked, trying to sound calm and failing. "Who are you?"
I’m in your head, you know, that "murmur."
"Oh. Really?" A smile spread across my face. "Nice to finally meet you."
Yeah, you wouldn’t remember me, would you?
"What do you mean?"
I’m the one who takes all those memories of the really, really bad things. So you wouldn’t remember because I have those memories now.
"You remember what happened to me before?"
Yeah. But I’m not going to tell you.
"Why not?"
Because I wouldn’t have a purpose then.
"Oh… ok, I guess."
You see, I am the half that holds the memories that are too much for you to handle.
"So… you’re me, but not me at the same time. You’re ‘not me.’"
Wow, you’re horrible at naming things.
I pouted.
But who can blame you? Your name is Muffin. I could tell you what your real name is.
"No! I like Muffin."
Ok, fine, how about this? You’re actually 18.
"But Erasmus said I was 16."
He was wrong.
"Was not."
Sure. Believe him, not the holder of all your forgotten memories.
"I will."
Eesh, stop being such a baby! ‘Not me’ is a fine name to call me.
I grinned.
‘Not me’ laughed. You’re easy to please.
"Why do people keep saying that?"
Maybe ‘cause it’s true.
I poked my tongue out.
‘Not me’ laughed again. For some reason, the laughing didn’t come across in the same way it had from Erasmus. How about after your prayer, you let me out for a bit? You can sleep really well then.
"Ok!" I agreed. Sleeping sounded nice. I went to my praying position and recited my prayer.
"Please protect Erasmus as You see fit. I shall forever be in Your debt and serve You to the end of my ability." I paused. "And ‘not me,’ too, if You wouldn’t mind, that is."
I had a feeling not me was grinning. Thanks.
"Have fun!" I chirped. I fell back onto the bed. A slight shiver went through me, and I was asleep. Oh, what a wonderful, dreamless sleep.
I woke up after that refreshing sleep more sore than I had been the previous day. The wounds from a week ago had finally started healing, but they hurt all anew.
"By Elsh’matar, ‘not me!’ What did you do last night?"
Had fun.
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I had a bad feeling. "Well, if you’re going to have fun, at least do something productive with it instead of just making me hurt!"
So he started bringing home money.
Welcome to my new life.
It’s about 8 months later now. I’m pretty high in the monarchy, and I’ve gotten closer and closer to ‘not me.’ Every time I’m insulted by one of the older priests or am just having a bad day, ‘not me’ is there begging to be out so he can beat the shit out of the cause of my pain. He’s a good guy. I don’t let him out against the priests, though. That would just cause me more problems.
Erasmus, come get me soon… I have so much to show you!