The Famished and Fallen (open)

[Skie and Avery]

Averymiel Nito was a king, though he wore no crown. He wore nothing on his body, but his nakedness wasn't what had caused the Ai'Brone he passed to cringe. They had seen his kind before, for among the beauty there were always a few who were born strong, with a lust for the flesh that went beyond such things as sex. The people of the dazzling wings came in and out with the frequency of the true blue moons, most of the time falling at the blade of those whose society did not frown on violence. When a Moontae came to the Citadel, it wasn't to cause violence, it was to see beauty in it's most fragile form - wrath.

Today, Beauty came in anger, as the Moontae king scrabbled with his clawed feet down the stone hollows, twisting and turning. He wore two wings on his back, one still bearing the stitching of the strange alchemical surgery that had fused it to his back. He wasn't born with it; it had once belonged to Skie dan Sabriel. Now, with so much flesh and bone that had once belonged to his sister, he was whole. The wngs snapped with impatience as he finally found the doorway he'd been looking for. It was marked along the edges with strange runes, graced along the top with etchings of cobras.

Avery stopped, finally standing straight to glare at the artwork with cold emerald eyes, his dark hair wild and unbound, falling past his shoulders. His grin was anything but kind, any traces of the loving man he'd once been nearly gone. The only thing besies cruelty that existed in his gaze was recognition.

He'd been here before.

Opening the door, he stepped into the arena. The boundary of the place was so many huge blocks, stacked one upon the other, emblazoned with graffiti of letters, numbers and the occassional teddy bear silhouette in pastel greens and blues. A doll that stood twice his height was slumped against one of the walls, her pink dress fading, the smile embroidered permanently on her face fraying. A jack in the box graced the middle of the room, though the jack's head was hanging out forlornly, the spring bent so that the nose of the clown brushed agianst the floor. The turn mechanism on the side of the box had been broken, the spring and face of the cloud bearing the marks and nicks of less-than-amateur knifework.

Avery thought he could hear, somewhere in the background, the hushed ghostly voices of two children and a man, somewhere in the high rafters of the room. Were the memories of the first day he'd seen his father that strong in this place, or was it simply just a matter of something in his mind not willing to let go of the day when the lives of two children were saved by a good man, their father. It was a memory that was keeping him tied to his father's blood, keeping him human, even if just vaguely. Avery began to walk towards the broken Jack, laughing softly as he did. Today he came to remove himself of the things that hurt so much, that killed him piece by piece without Elena by his side.

Today he came to forget Devon dan Sabriel.

[Peacemaker]

Duke's hair waved in the wind as he stood, poised upon the hilltop. The teen balanced on his left foot, right extended in front of him, his face screwed up in concentration as the breeze threatened to topple him. The leaves in the trees chattered in response to the wind's sighs, providing excellent background music. Beneath one such tree, Jack and Rosalie lounged, her head on his lap. They watched Duke as though the fate of the world depended on him keeping his balance.

"Do the crane one, Duke," Rosalie requested, her angelic mezzo chiming in time to nature's music, "That's my favorite!"

Duke took a breath, then with a mighty effort jumped, performing a front handspring and landing on the same foot, his body now twisted into a Tai Chi Crane form. Rosalie giggled and applauded, then poked Jack and he clapped along. After a few moments more Duke abandoned the position, taking an exaggerated bow before his friends' ovation ended. Wiping sweat from his brow the pacifist joined his companions in the shade, taking a swig from the canteen Rosalie offered before speaking.

"Where's Foley gone?"
"Bird watching." Rosalie pointed to the low lying branches of a nearby poplar. A blond boy crouched there, peering at the road which bordered on the bottom of the hill. Duke heaved a sigh.
"Foley!" His trained voice projected easily across the distance. The blond's head turned. "What have I told you about petting the baby birds?" The youngest of the Tribals shook his head, blond locks waving, then held one finger to his lips and resumed his previous position.

Ssh.

"Not that kind of bird," Rosalie whispered over dramatically, "He sees a girl down there he likes. It's adorable. isn't it adorable, Jack?"
"Adorable Rosie baby. Foles is one adorable dude." The black man's low voice flowed like liquid honey, and he pinched Rosie's thigh affectionately before returning to studying the sky. He spoke rarely, normally only when prompted to, but added his quiet confidence to the group just by being there. Duke clapped them both on the shoulder before turning away.
"I'll go see if I can help him."

With the dexterity of a boy who has lived outside his whole life, Duke shimmied up the tree and hung from a branch next to Foley. The blond boy's face looked absolutely crestfallen. Duke scanned the road below, but saw nothing. "Where's the girl he was watching?" He wondered.

"She's gone," Foley answered the unasked question, his whole posture a picture of misery. "She had stopped to let her horse graze a little. I was gonna' go introduce myself, I was gonna'! But then she left. Duke, dude, I think I'm in love with her."

Duke laughed out loud and whooped, clapping Foley on the back so hard the smaller boy nearly fell.
"Foley my friend, this is not a time for mourning! Love is always a happy thing!" They climbed down together, but Foley did not look convinced.
"I dunno' Duke... I mean like, I'll never see her again. She doesn't even know I exist." Duke felt a feeling of omnipresent good tidings welling within his heart, bursting so broadly his chest should have exploded. It didn't, so he exploded in a different way. Racing to the center of the hill top, he cried aloud;

"My friend Foley is in love!"
"In love?" Rosie responded, her wide eyes growing wider. As one she and Jack rose from their makeshift bed of earth and roots.
"Yes! He is in love! But his would be Madonna eludes us!"
"Oh no!" Rosie cried, batting her eyes and swooning. Jack began to get into the game, gasping aloud and catching Rosalie as she pretended to faint.

Foley's forlorn expression had turned into a massive erratic grin. He knew his best friends were about to help him find the love of his life.

"Even now," Duke crowed, a preacher on the pulpit, "She rides like the wind down the road of escape." His hands swept the air, fingers splayed wide, working through Tai Chi forms again. "But my friends, we shall fly on the wings of the eagle, catch her up, and Foley will meet his lady fair!" For a brief instant Duke assumed an eagle stance, then took off running down the hill.

A moment later his friends followed him, sprinting helter-skelter towards the road below. But a change had come over them. They glowed with a unified sense of purpose. When they reached the road Jack hoisted Rosie onto his shoulders, raw power allowing him to keep up with the other two despite his friend's weight. Rosalie had Duke's guitar in her hands, and she strummed away as the wind streamlined her hair. The Tripartite Hypnosis Channeling had been triggered.

The foursome sang as they ran down the road, Duke taking the lead line while the others harmonized the backup. Foley somehow mixed dance into his running, beating a bass rhythm out on the ground with his bare feet.

"Once upon a lookin'-for-Donna time ((1))
There was a sixteen year old virgin!
Oh Donna oh-oh Donna oh oh oh
Lookin' for my Donna

I just got back from looking for Donna,
San Francisco,
Psychedelic urchin!
Oh Donna oh-oh Donna oh oh oh
Lookin' for my Donna

Have you seen
My sixteen year old, tattooed woman
Heard her story;
She got busted for her beauty oh oh oh
Oh oh!

Once upon a lookin'-for-Donna time
There was a sixteen year old virgin
Oh Donna oh-oh Donna oh oh oh
Lookin' for my Donna

I've been to India and saw the yogi light,
In South America the Indian smoke glows bright!
I'm reincarnated and so are we all
And in this lifetime we'll rise
Before we fall...
Before we fall!

Once upon a lookin'-for-Donna time
There was a sixteen year old virgin!
Oh Donna oh-oh Donna oh oh oh
Looking for my Donna

And I'm going to show her-
Life on earth can be sweet
Gonna lay my mutated head down at her feet
And I'm gonna love her, make love to her
'Till the sky turns brown!
I'm evolving I'm evolving
Through the drugs...
That you put down!

Once upon a lookin'-for-Donna time
There was a sixteen year old virgin
Oh Donna oh-oh Donna oh oh oh
Looking for my Donna
Looking for my Donna
Looking for Madonna!

Donna..."

As the last lyric faded from their lips they came to a halt, breathless from the all out sprint-and-sing. Rosalie cackled merrily, clinging to Jack's dreadlocks to stabilize herself. They stood before a massive stone building, a thing of true beauty. It seemed nestled perfectly in with nature, never disturbing a tree, shrub or rock. Duke gaped in awe at the stretching spires and stained glass windows, but Foley's eyes were elsewhere.

"That's it!" He cried merrily, dancing around in a circle. "That's her horse, there on the tethering pole. I've found her! I've found my Madonna!"

"Congratulations dear friend!" Duke embraced the younger boy, and an instant later Rosalie joined the hug, having flung herself directly onto them from Jack's shoulders. The large mellow man grinned as he helped them all up, dusting them off. Duke received his guitar from Rosalie and slung it across his back, then, arms around each other, the foursome climbed the building's stairs in a long line, turning sideways to make it through the door without letting go.

Once inside Duke's awe returned. He had never seen anything made by man as breathtaking as the building. Carved stone walls covered by draperies of elaborate weave and masterwork paintings surrounded him, merrily dancing flames lighting the art from their wall brackets. A plethora of colors painted the floor, a product of the sun shining through the stained glass. Quite suddenly Duke realized he was the only one captivated by the building's beauty. His friends had begun to hurry towards a nearby door.

"Duke," Foley hissed, "She went in here, I saw her just as we came in. Come on, let's go!"

Duke took one step and froze. A robed monk had appeared from the main hallway, his shaved head shining in the sunlight. He walked directly towards Duke, not noticing the three Tribals in the corner.

"Are you here for our services?" The monk asked, a friendly smile on his wise old face. Duke made a quick gestures with his head, telling the others to go. He would distract the monk for as long as it took; after getting that far, he did not intend to let Foley's dreams be ruined. The blond boy gave him a thumbs up and the three disappeared through the door.

"Ah... yes. I am." Duke quickly improvised, knowing he had to keep the monk occupied. "I'm here for the services you provide, and man, I've heard that you guys are unparalleled. The monk chuckled appreciatively.
"Many do say that. Come with me; I believe I have just what you are looking for."

Rosalie came back through the door just as the monk began to turn. She grinned and blew Duke a kiss before being pulled out of sight by two pairs of hands. Duke sighed in relief; the monk had not seen them. He hurried to catch up to the robed man, who led him down a corridor to a door not unlike the one his friends had used.

"There you are sir. I hope everything is to your liking." Duke bowed to return the monk's formality, then spent an awkward ten seconds staring at the monk. At last, he realized that the fellow intended for him to go through the door. Mentally smacking his forehead, the teen did so, giving the monk a cheery wink and wave

The room was magnificent! Gigantic building blocks, a child's toy magnified one hundred times, made pyramids here and there, with other equally interesting objects dotting the interior. A larger-than-life doll smiled at Duke and he smiled back, turning on the spot. Before he could examine the room further he spotted a naked man. Nudity was not something that startled Duke in particular; he nor his friends had any qualms with being seen naked or seeing others in like manner. What did catch his attention were the wings.

"Dude! You have wings man! That's awesome, unbelievable! Can you fly?"


((1: "Donna" from Hair, the tribal Love-Rock Musical))

[Skie and Avery]

He'd been scrabbling along the floor, his glittering wings snapping with leathery cracks as he went, when the boy came into the room. His fingers had been troving the floors, searching through the dust and dirt that had fallen upon the stone for something, anything, that he could use to get rid of the voices. They were growing louder now, clear as a bell in his head.

"We're going to get in trouble!" "You worry too much. I'll take care of you."

He had to pause, paying little attention to the newcomer when the ethereal conversation caught his attention. He remembered those words, his fear as a child in he and Skie's first traversal into the Citadel. He remembered how soothing her voice was back then, how small but brave she sounded. Another voice, as harmonious as it sounded, earned a glare from him for disrupting his thoughts of better times before sins that couldn't be taken back had been commited. He eyed the man from the corner of his eye, raising himself up from his search of the ground. His wings fanned with pride, though it was only a Moontae's body, displaying itself as it always must do, that caused such a reaction.

"Flight or fall?" Avery's deep bass rumbled out as he came to his full height. There wasn't so much of a difference between the two of them, and his green eyes, as dark and green as a summer's canopy over Concordia, met the grey. The forest under a storm, and he fought to forget the grey star-light flecks that sometimes sparkled in his sisters eyes, eyes she'd inherited from their father. "I can show you both."

His grin, showing sharp teeth and nothing else but malice, splashed across face for a moment before the wings stretched and burst and he was pulled skywards. It as all for show, the movement of the wings, the use of muscles that protested under the new weight of a second wing. He could fly with only one wing, using the magic inside a Moontae that gave them control over illusion and the spiced scent of pheremones that wafted from their pores. Still, he let this mortal see the motion of his muscles under the leathery wing hide as he fluttered to the apex of the spring's bend on the broken jack in the box. From his perch, he watched this stranger, before bowing his head. Several strands of rich, deep brown hair fell before his eyes from where they'd gained their freedom from the length of leather he used to keep his hair back.

"I am Averymiel Nito, a king of the forests to the south. You've seen the flight... would you care to fall with me?"

[Peacemaker]

Duke stared as a child stares at a new bike on his birthday. His face showed outright awe when Avery lifted off the ground like a sea turtle that can fly. Or rather, a person that could fly. As the moontae landed Duke applauded him liberally, beating a percussive crescendo while laughing in appreciation. Questions built within Duke and then flowed out his mouth in language form, a neverending flow of chatter.

"Holy dragon, dude that's awesome! What's it like to fly man? How high can you get? Have you ever crashed man, did it hurt? I felt out of a tree one time when I was a kid and broke a leg man, you could get seriously messed up if you fell while you were flying!--"

Avery's question bit through the torren of senseless blather. Duke stared with one eyebrow raised, his constant smile unchanged.

Did he just make a pass at me?

Duke knew a few homosexuals, and figured Foley was bisexual. He felt nothing differently towards them than he did for anyone else, which was to say he loved them as much as everyone else he met. Free love had always been a big part of Duke's life. Despite that, he didn't fancy himself as the type to get in bed with another man. He was about to say as much to the winged nudist when several things clicked together in his head.

Wait a second... this huge artistic place, the funny robed bald guy, this sorta' creepy room with life sized toys that they let me into for free without asking any questions... is this place a fuck club? A gay fuck club? Jeez, I probably gave this guy the wrong idea then. Hey wait, if this is a gay club, the Foley's--

He burst out laughing. The mental image of Foley tracking down the love of his life only to find out she was a lesbian rattled his funnybone. The blond boy would be crestfallen, but fall in love again the next day-- Duke knew him well. Moments later Duke realized how rude he must seem; the flying homosexual- or bisexual? I shan't assume- had asked him to "fall" and he responded by laughing out loud. An apologetic expression possessed his face and he took a few steps forward, gesticulating helplessly.

"Oh sorry man, I must have given you wrong idea there. I was just here helping a friend ah... meet someone, and I came in here by accident. I think the monk dude mistook me for someone else."

Duke turned around to realize the "door" he had just entered through gone.

What the Haide? Huh, maybe the door won't come back for awhile, like an hour or something. Unless... by the Thaynes I hope this isn't a brothel.

Deciding not to waste his time, Duke sat down on a block with the letter Q on it and pulled two objects from his pocket; one his hand carved pipe, the other a small silk sack of an indican strain of cannabis. He began to pack the bowl, grinding the herb in tight with his thumb.

"You should show that flying bit to my friend Rosalie, she'd want to be your best friend. Oh, can I interest you in a smoke?"

One should always share a smoke if one can, Duke thought, sorting through his pockets as he looked for matches.

[Skie and Avery]

He came crawling down the jack in the box like an animal, his feet and hands using their claws to grip as he moved down. Grace was in his movements, though it was anger and annoyance that caused his wings to snap, the glitter along the leathery hide flinging light like an accusation. It danced around him, reflected as pinpoints of sparkle moved in a wash as the wings moved. As much as he wanted to fight, wanted to get lost in fear and anger and blood, there was curiosity to hold him back. Rosalie? Obviously a woman's name, and he wondered for a moment if she could help him in his need. Would she be able to hold his seed? He wouldn't feel so badly when the time came to make use of the child, after all humans were far more plentiful than some of the other potential children he'd tried to seed.

Then, an aroma came to him on the air of the arena as the man began to pack a pipe. It was sweet, nothing like the bitter tobacco that the older Moontae men liked to put in their campfires as they ate. The idea of a pipe was a new one as well, and when Avery was once again on the floor he came creeping up slowly, circling the boy as he got ever closer. He allowed his claws to slip back underneath the soft fingernails of his hands, coming to sit near Duke on a block that had been engraved with a green bird.

"Smoke?" he asked, his low voice small as he tried to understand the pipe and the use for the aromatic herbs within. "It's a poison?" He hissed lightly as he asked, his suspicions causing his fists to clench at his sides. In his peripheral vision he thought he saw the darting figure of a child, with dark hair and one black wing, but when he looked, cranking his head so fast that a warm numb flash moved down his neck, there was nothing there. Of course there was nothing there, he told himself, trying to force his attention back to his opponent. Skie was all grown up now. She would not be as a child, darting through the toys here. It had been his imagination, the painful memories, flooding back.

For now, he just wanted to know if what the stranger was offering would make all that go away.

[Peacemaker]

Duke finished backing a generous well-rounded bowl then glanced up. The cannabis was excellent quality, freshly cured and still damp. He finally found a book of matches struck one one handed, watching a tendril of smoke escape as the stick ignited, its grey offspring dissipating into the air above. The Peacemaker held the match for a moment, not wanting to suck the taste of sulfur, then put the pipe to his lips. He inhaled slowly, dragging the flame across the pipe's bowl. Fire sprang onto the herb like iron filaments to a magnet, the green plant turning to ash. Duke drew until his lungs filled then lowered the pipe, smoke trailing form it like miniscule sky writing.

While Avery questioned him Duke met the Moontae's eyes with a look of intense focus on his face. Then he exhaled the smoke in the form of three identical rings that sailed over the stacked blocks like expanding grey discs. Duke pursed his lips and exhaled hard, causing the discs to swirl and vanish. Pow, pow. I'm shooting skeet.

The bowl was still half full and burning, so Duke held it out to Avery, stem first. He felt the familiar rush of anticipation as the toxins began to filter into his bloodstream. He hoped the heady smoke would be enough to calm Avery's violent intentions. The Moontae seemed horribly conflicted about something, and had picked a very unhealthy method of working his problems out. A good session with a new friend is a much better way to get your head straight, he reasoned.

The sweet, heavy smoke began to have an effect on the atmosphere of the room, leaving its meditative scent hanging in the air. Duke inhaled deeply, enjoying it. He then took a stick of incense from his pocket, checking the minute tag attatched to one end. Pine Forest it said in his own bold handwriting. That should be okay, he decided, and stood the incense upright between two blocks. His fingers did the trick with the match again, striking a flame and lighting the incense. He twirled the still-smoking match between his fingers for a few seconds before dropping it into his pocket while responding to Avery.

"Not a poison dude... it makes you feel better. Really helps you work things out in your head, you know? Helps you focus on what's important. It's awesome stuff man, hit it or give it back, 'cuz I want some more."

[Skie and Avery]

As he held the pipe, his suspicion lessened. The boy had taken in the smoke and seemed to be perfectly normal still. The incense lit, the room began to smell more like the forest, like the smell that couldn't even be taken by the winter. It brought memories of home, where he and Skie had played, jumping from tree to tree. He had once landed in a tree that smelled like this, the prickly thin needles that adorned it itching and stinging as he fell into the branches. A few had broken and he'd been dotted with sap that smelled almost intoxicating; a scent that refused to be merely washed off.

It hurt to smell it, so when the pipe was beneath his nose, burning sweeter, washing away the laughter in his mind, he took the opportunity before him to kill his sorrow. Raising the stem to his lips, he sucked in, pulling smoke into his lungs. It was hotter than he expected, and in surprise he held his breath for a moment, handing back the pipe to Duke as he breathed out. Smoke drifted before his eyes as it billowed out of his mouth and nose, distorting his vision and making tears swim in them. With his first breath of cleaner air, he did cough, one fist moving up to pat himself over the heart as he did so.

Still, the laughter was silent; no longer could he hear Skie's youthful voice calling to him through the haze of chaos in his mind. His entire being was focused on the next few moments, where the sweet smoke would prove itself to be, or not to be, poison.

"What is this called?" he asked.

[Peacemaker]

Duke's grin broadened as Avery choked on the smoke and coughed up a rush of grey heat. The coughing meant the succubae had inhaled properly. Gently, the Peacemaker took his pipe back and tapped the ashes out onto one of the room's blocks. He reloaded the oak bowl as he answered Avery's question.

"It's called cannabis man. This is a really smooth indican breed that I just finished curing. I'm glad you like it man, because I've got another crop growing. Where do you shout from? Do you think I could peddle my wares in your village?"

Duke's dextrous fingers sprinkled herb into the oaken pipe, seemingly without thought. But the action was not as mindless as it seemed. The right side of the bowl he packed with the same plant they had just smoked, but for the left side he reached into a different pocket and pulled a ground up blend of the cacti peyote. Duke could see a world of conflict in Avery's eyes. A trip around the muddled inside of his head might clear some of the cobweb's from the succubae's grey matter.

The Peacemaker lifted the pipe to his lips. His dextrous fingers danced and a flame sprang up on the end of the tiny toothpick. Again he went through the ritual of waiting for the sulfuric matchead to burn away, then carefully blazed the right side of the bowl. Seconds later smoke exhaled through his nose, wreathing his neck in the sweet smell. He offered the pipe to his new friend once more and struck a match, ready to light the bowl. The everpresent earnest good will continued to emanate from his eyes.

If he sucks that stuff up, he's in for a serious mental mindfuck.