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A spear! Now he was in business! Really, though, it was just a flimsy stick with a dull rock tied loosely to the end of it. For a moment he held it up, looking from it and then back to the book, the picture of the spear there. Shrugging, one hand slammed the book shut and pushed it aside, the other hand holding tightly to his new weapon of destruction. He was hungry and very much tired of having to go through shifting to be able to catch a few measly mice. That book though, it would be his saving grace. With his new weapon of terror he would now be able to fish, much like the book had portrayed, and he wouldn't have to eat stinkin' mice anymore.
Pushing himself up to a stand, Jasper quickly left the area beneath the tree and moved the short distance between himself and the lake. Lucky for him, it hadn't quite gotten to the point that it was frozen over, which meant he could stand at the edge and fish. The de le Poer boy watched a moment, eying the water, before suddenly thrusting his 'spear' forward. As soon as it hit the water, right down into the soft earth in the bottom, it snapped, and Jasper went falling forward. A very much surprised squeal left him right before he hit the water, which he landed face down in with a splash. Pulling himself out and back onto the shore, he groaned and brought himself to a seated position, arms crossed over one another and passing evil looks toward the lake. |
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indent It had been nearly a month since Ahren had taken the crossbow from the city. He had managed to take down one deer successfully—though the kill had not been clean, and he had to chase it down and slit its throat. Ahren was a systematic killer when he hunted, choosing often to use tools rather then his own teeth for the larger animals. Hides were his goal, hides that were used to line the rickety shack he called home. Tanning during the winter was a tedious process, so he didn’t manage to do this often.
indent Being a creature of opportunity through, Ahren scavenged from the city often. The museum, he had found, offered a vast inventory of stuffed animals. Earlier in the week, he had ripped up a grizzly bear. A fair amount of cleaning had meant a fair amount of time to air out, but he had gone to gather his prize today. This was what he was carrying in his arms, and why he smelled like a bear. Of course, Ahren’s scent was non-specific to one object—he smelled like bear, smoke, metal. His crossbow was not on his person, but the knife, the ever constant knife, remained.
indent It was sheer luck and timing that allowed Ahren to watch his son fall into the water. As the boy settled onto the damp shore, Ahren approached, dropping the heavy hide over his son’s head and regarding him curiously. “You trying to freeze to death?”
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It was hard not to hear whoever it was approaching behind him but today the wind was against him, it blew away the scent that approached. Jasper didn't bother turning his head to see who it was though and instead continued to stare down the water. His weapon hadn't worked, which was an unfortunate turn of events. The de le Poer boy took to shivering, hands grasping the sides of his arms where they were folded, as if it might bring some sudden warmth. What brought that warmth though, it wasn't his hands at all. He was covered suddenly, right over the top of his head, and a muffled voice soon followed. He knew who it was now and wasn't sure whether he should be thankful or embarrassed.
Hands released from his arms and one came up to pull the bear skin off of his head, positioning it around himself. Ears flattened then and in a rather gloomy tone, he answered his father. "Yes." He wasn't all that skilled at sarcasm, it sounded much more bland than anything, and the boy pouted. "I was tryin' to fish." He finally came clean, turning two toned eyes away from the water finally. He turned his head, taking a glance toward the larger male, frowning. "And it didn't work." Which was obvious by the fact that he was wet and the remains of his weapon were half sticking out of the water and the other half floating on the top of the lake. |
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indent Fire-red eyes remained on Jasper only for a moment more before he explained himself, and soon trailed to the remains of his weapon. It was crudely crafted, stone and wood, reminiscent of the tools primitive races had used. Not that the knife on his hip was any different—it was primitive and barbaric as well. He had used it to maim, to kill, to skin. There were a thousand things he could do with the blade, a thousand more if he put his mind to it. “I never liked fishing,” he offered, dropping his hand to the pouch that hung opposite of his blade.
indent A snap and hiss soon announced the presence of his ever constant addiction. Inhaling and breathing out smoke a moment later, he continued: “Spearing fish is hard. I’ve only seen one person do it well.” The woman who had made his hair the way it was, the woman who had vicious eyes and no fear of any man, the woman who had once asked him to lay with her. She had understood his denial, and it did not change a thing between them. For that, he considered her a rare gem. “You ever think about using a line?”
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One hand lifted slowly, revealing itself from inside of the blanket. He used that hand to grab hold of the dark bangs in front of his eyes, which had stuck themselves to his face, and he squeezed the water from them slowly. "I already don't like it." Came his low voice, hinting at defeat. He might not have liked it much, despite the fact that he'd only tried once, but he did have to eat. Of course, at that moment, mice were starting to sound better and better.
"A line?" He said suddenly, as it were a sudden revelation. He should have thought about that before, quite honestly, since he'd often spent a lot of time at the docks watching people fish when they lived in Europe before. Frowning yet again, Jasper gave a shake of his head. "No." Exasperated, he dropped his hands to smack against the tops of his wet legs, hanging his head. "Guess I'll go to the city and look for one." He was certain he'd seen them somewhere and, quite honestly, wasn't in the mood to try and make one. |
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indentAhren smiled half-heartedly at his son’s comment. He took another drag on the cigarette and listened as the adolescent continued, admitting his defeat in some far-out realization. It wasn’t as though he had failed completely—attempting something didn’t mean failure, and after all, nothing was learned without making mistakes. That was one thing Ahren, in his three odd years of existence, had found to be the world’s inevitable truth.
indent“I’ll go with you if you want. I know that place well enough,” he offered, flicking ash from the tip of the tobacco. The tone he used was not arrogant; it was a fact that he knew that place, considering he had lived there as long as he had. He could name streets had he so chosen, and recall homes and buildings with objects of interest.
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"Alright." He mumbled at the offer, almost as if he had no other choice in the matter. Really, though, Jasper was glad that his father had offered to go with him. He'd lost Tegan in the transition from home to home, which had been a large blow, and the fellow in Inferni didn't seem all to thrilled at the prospect of having a half brother. Corona always seemed indifferent about him, like she would accept that he was there but would rather not have anything to do with him. His father, despite the things that had happened in the past and the unsure feeling that Jasper still got when around him, was really all that he had left.
Keeping hold of the hide, Jasper found his way to his feet, pulling it around him moreso than before. "I saw Corona there just a little while after I got here." He commented idly, not sure if he even knew that she was around. "She helped me get some stuff to build the tree house." Did he even know about the tree house? Surely those that wandered by it had to have been at least a little curious about where it had come from. "And when I got some sand to pack into the boards to close the holes, I met someone from Inferni." He turned away then, starting off toward the path that would take them to the city. "Said he was your son, too." |
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indent “He is,” Ahren said shortly, taking a drag on the cigarette. The fact he had other children was something that he was not ashamed of—the fact he had ever had children in the first place was something he had never wanted. Still, they were alive, they were here, and (half of them) were his mistake. He’d have to live with that, even if everything else had gone asunder in his life. “Name’s Gabriel. He took that place over when his mother left,” he added, unaware of what (if anything) Gabriel had told Jasper.
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It wasn't like he expected his father to lie about it, it might have been a bit hard to deny something like that. Of course, that didn't mean that Jasper was going to go around believe everyone that said they were siblings. There was something Gabriel, his father called him, that almost made Jasper sure that he was telling the truth. "He let me get my sand and told me to leave." Jasper said with a slight shrug, obvious a bit put off about how unaccepting of him everyone seemed to be. "Are there more of them?" It was a fair question, he thought, just as long as he didn't bring up the mother. It seemed like it might be a touchy subject. |
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indent Ahren was a liar. He had been a liar since the day he was born. Just because he did not lie about this incident did not mean he would not lie about others.
“Yes,” he said, amazed at the apathy in his tone. Another hit off the cigarette, another moment, and he continued.
“Aside from you and your siblings, there were nine.” How many now? How many had he lost? It didn’t matter anymore. Ahren’s eyes remained dead, his face blank, his thoughts hollow.
“Two died from wolf attacks. I don’t know where the rest are.” Was it really that easy? Of course it was. They weren’t important enough factors to mean anything if they chose not to be.
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"Oh." Quiet, as if he felt the need to turn and hug his father and tell him that he was sorry. Jasper couldn't ever do such a thing though and, even if he could, he doubted that his father would want anything like that said or done. "He didn't seem to happy to see me anyways." So perhaps it was better to not have brought it up at all. That awkward feeling that he got when around his father had returned in a rush and again Jasper was silent, quietly pondering his new knowledge. All of his father's children were gone, dead or left, it seemed. At the moment, Jasper felt as if he was the only one trying to have anything to do with him. Corona was around, sure, but she was off on her own living her own life? Perhaps that was why things were so odd between himself and his father? Maybe Ahren was just waiting around for the moment that Jasper would leave him too?
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indent He stood still, save the occasional movement of his arm. Nothing anyone could ever say would make him change the way he felt, or what he had done. The wolf was dead; they were both dead. He had killed one, and Hollow Nothing (though Ahren had not know what a change occurred in him) had killed the other. It was done with. It was over. He just felt what he felt and even though he tried to let it go the blood was on his hands. The blood had always been on his hands. “You can keep that,” Ahren said after a long pause. And without a word, he headed off. He needed space.
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