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In his time within the lands of Bleeding Souls, Jasper had learned many a thing. One thing, and the biggest in his mind, was how much family that he learned he had. Naniko had been the first, though only related through a long line of twists and turns, they were still related. His vast amount of siblings had been next, which his father had confirmed weeks ago. Jasper, the boy who was convinced that his family hated him, still couldn't keep his curiosity about them at bay. Often he wondered about his siblings, where they were and what they were doing and, now, these new ones, or old rather, he wondered what they were like.
Such thoughts led Jasper to the only place he could think of. The Haunted Wood. Sure, he could've gone to Inferni to inquire with Gabriel about them, but something told him that wouldn't have gone over very well. The sandy colored male made his way slowly through the maze of trees, ears laid back tightly against his head. The whole place was eerie and, even being as silent as he could, he was almost certain that he could hear whispering from the trees. Not just in one place though. All over. |
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indent Having been orphaned at a young age, Ahren had never learned what it was truly like to have that sort of companionship and fallback. He had supported himself from the day Damian had come at him, and indeed, before then. The first time his father had hit him, Ahren recognized he could not trust him. After he had lost his ability to see yellow and blue, he had hated him. The day Damian had exiled him, Ahren wanted blood. Once his father was dead, nothing changed, except a sorely empty feeling had become present. It wasn’t his father’s fault he was fucked up, it was his. Still, it was nice to blame someone.
indent He had forgotten what day it was. The night before, he had shot up, laughing madly in his own dark place because this let him escape. Ahren’s walk was off—he had fallen and pulled something in his right leg. The limp was slight, but it was there. Though he didn’t smell like the drugs in his blood, he looked disheveled. He hadn’t slept. The cigarette in his hand only helped so much. He coughed, stopped walking, and looked up to an old tree, having heard something in it (though really, nothing was there).
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Jasper detested creepy place, which may have been just a bit ironic since his best friend happened to be a ghost. Still, though, he hated the feeling of not knowing what was lurking there and, along with some of the stories that he's heard about the place, it gave him a crawling feeling beneath his skin. He was now just a bit glad that his mother and father had left these lands in the first place, he couldn't imagine having to grow up in them. Wrinkling his nose at the thought, Jasper continued along at a creeping pace, half paranoid at his surroundings.
The whispers, or whatever they were, never seemed to stop no matter how far he went, but as he went along there was a much more clear sound. A cough. Stopping suddenly, Jasper spun to the right and scanned the trees. Smoke, he could only see it faintly as it drifted through the air and disappeared. He'd mistaken someone for his father once before on the simple fact that he could see smoke and smell liquor. This time he would investigate before opening his trap. He made it a few feet in that direction before he could see him, it was definitely his dad. "Hi.." His voice tapered off quietly before he could finish, shuffling a few steps forward all the while scratching awkwardly at that one distinctive black ear. |
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indent Fucking something was in that tree. Ahren stared hard at it, and a growl began deep in his chest. It was cut off when a voice startled him, making the blonde jerk and turn his head. Jasper, the odd little boy who had changed so much in such a small amount of time. It took him a moment to recover, and when he did, a bleary grin broke his face. “Hey,” he offered, taking a step back and instantly regretting it. Pain shot up his right leg and he took the weight off it instantly, gritting his teeth. When he looked back up from studying the unseen damage, he caught something he had never noticed before.
indent A faint patch of something that should not have been there, a strange area of fog and mutated forest. It wasn’t solid, it wasn’t anything yet. Ahren just stared, red eyes sharpening as he tried to make out the thing behind his son.
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Two-toned eyes, for a very short moment, moved upward to look at the tree that his father seemed to be staring at, tearing quickly away when he responded to his voice by snapping around. Jasper looked concern at that very moment, at first because he wasn't sure if he'd be angry about being startled but then at the almost creepy grin that was there. His concern turned more to worry though, at the painful look that soon took over. He shuffled forward a few inches more before stopping again, frowning some. "Are you ok?" There was genuine worry in his voice.
Whatever pain or problem that might have been there was quickly lost though. It was almost like he was staring at him in some sort of transfixed gaze. "D..dad?" He hesitated calling him that, sometimes it didn't seem right or he wondered if his father didn't want him calling him that. For the most part the boy looked confused, brows furrowed and head threatening to tilt to one side. Was there something awful smeared across his face that he didn't now about? Being so used to having Rusalki around him, Jasper hadn't even noticed that something might be off. |
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indent Ahren had walked through half of Europe. He had seen a small (though large, to him) part of the world. Over time he had changed. Some things, though, never changed. The Sight had been with him for a long time, longer then he could recall. Just because he had lost most of it over time, as his world changed and as his mind came apart at the seams, did not mean it was gone. Therefore, he could see something behind Jasper, but it was still indistinguishable, halfway between fog and form. Lowering his head slightly, lips pulling back in a mix of confusion and warning, he growled again.
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It was frightening the way that his father's face had changed so suddenly. A grin, confusion, and now suddenly aggressive. Would he really attack? What had Jasper done to piss him off so quickly? It was only as he stared harder at the face of his father that he picked up on what was really happening. Ahren wasn't looking at him. He was looking past him. Startled, Jasper spun around suddenly, stumbling back a few steps from whatever monster may have been there and ready to grab him. What he saw as he spun, though, wasn't so much of a monster. The figure was hazy at first, confusing. "Rusalki?" He said aloud, not even thinking about having to explain it to his father.
The figure seemed to pull itself together slowly and as Jasper watched, he suddenly realized that it wasn't his friend at all. It was very rare that Jasper see ghosts other than Rusalki, mostly it was just in glimpses, as a lot of them seemed to disappear once he was near. Either way, though, it was always startling. "Who are you?" He asked then, shuffling backwards slowly. The fur across the largest portion of his body was on end and, for a second, he looked back over his shoulder to glance at his father. Why couldn't Rusalki be there when he needed him? |
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indent Jasper said a name, a name that meant nothing to Ahren. The figure seemed to respond to it and stayed close to the boy. Ahren’s growl did not diminish, not even as the form took on a shape. It resembled Ahren closely in coloration, though much darker, and had the same vicious red eyes and too-long canines. Without moving, Ahren’s fur bristled, tail going brush-bottle. He looked mad. This was not the first ghost he had seen. It was the first, however, that put him on such edge. The feeling in the air was thick and heavy, stronger then any opiate his father had ever exposed him to.
indent The ghost (if that was really what he was) grinned a mad, toothy grin. He was covered in blood, and his throat was torn out. “Get away from him,” Ahren said sharply, no longer aware if he was speaking to the ghost or his son.
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Two-toned eyes were glued to the figure, wide and frightened, and Jasper found himself suddenly unable to move. Bloody and wicked looking, the creature was not something Jasper would ever want to run in to, alive or dead. It was his father's words that brought the boy from his frozen state, except he didn't step back. He couldn't step back, not when the other figure so suddenly appeared. This one, in a haze like the last, formed much quicker than the other. He was slight, much like Jasper, but his fur was black and missing in large patches. Burns were evident all over the ghost, though his face seemed pristine and well kept. Jasper could see the seriousness in his friend's eyes. "Move back!"
That was all it took for Jasper to obey, stumbling backwards a few more steps until he was nearer to his father. By the time Jasper had stopped moving the other ghost had all but vanished, leaving little behind to make Jasper think it was still around. "What was that, Rusalki?" The boy asked quietly, almost afraid to move or speak to loudly. Even more frightening was the fact that his friend did not speak in return, only offering him a stern look. |
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indent As the form vanished, Ahren felt something wickedly cold hit his chest. He let out a surprised gasp, and stumbled back as a violent pain shot through his throat. Stumbling, he fell to his knees, palms hitting the ground, face turning down. One hand went to his chest, gripping at the fading-yellow sigil. His body began to shake, to tremble, and his head turned back up. Though no outward signs were apparent, something had changed in his eyes. A low laugh began to come from his throat, rising as he staggered to his feet. On his face, a vicious half-snarl, half-grin became fixed.
indent “Come on kid, you think your little friend there can do anything?” Ahren’s voice was his, but it was not him speaking. Then suddenly his eyes widened and he thrashed, hands going to his head. “Kommen Sie heraus! Ich weiß wer Sie sind, herauskommen!” His head whipped up and the he was snarling again. “Shut up! You’re as weak as he is, shut up!” The blonde suddenly went backwards, stumbling, and his eyes turned foggy, turned blind-white. “The boy is mine,” he said. It was a threat, a warning. His head snapped down and he spun again, looking forward at Jasper. “Their blood is mine and always has been!”
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Despite the arrival of his friend and the departure of the other, Jasper felt no relief. The expression on Rusalki's face was intense and it scared the boy, along with the fact that he'd never seen Rusalki act in such a way before. "Rusal-" His voice was a half whine, though he wasn't able to finish his words. His father stumbled back suddenly and Jasper spun in surprise, panic taking over his face. "Dad!" Jasper shouted as he fell to the ground, ready to rush to his side. The moment he began moving, though, his father stood. The eyes spoke louder than anything, even the words that were spoken.
Stunned, Jasper could only stand still, having lost track of Rusalki in all of the sudden panic. The quiet and easily frightened boy he was, Jasper felt a hint of moistness as he stood, a puddle forming just beneath him. (Yes folks, he pissed himself.) Come out, it was all the boy was able to decipher from the sudden onslaught of German and he whined at this, confused. "L..l..let him go!" He shouted, though his voice was still as weak as he was and even then he wasn't honestly sure what was happening. Ears pinned back and body shaking, Jasper balled up his fist and went to move forward. He'd sock his father and knock whatever it was out. But, as he stood watching and thinking, Jasper only dropped his arms like dead weight. What else could he do? |
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indent A noise somewhere between a snarl and a scream escaped Ahren as his leg gave out under him and he fell to the ground. Another violent wretch rocked through his body and his hands were moving, one digging into the cold ground and the other moving to his side, to the knife. The maniac in his eyes wanted blood, and knew where to get it. Just as suddenly as the knife was in his hand it was hurled away, striking a tree with enough force it remained there. Then the hand struck out, slashing the blonde across the face. “Idiot! Fucking idiot! You’re just like your father!”
indent It was that comment that broke something. Ahren growled, and his eyes turned foggy-white again. Somehow he found his feet. The necklace he had worn for years turned white hot, burning, and a force like a tempest pushed that devil from him. The ghost staggered, between the boy and the scarred man, screaming. Something that had no visible form, and instead only a presence, an absolute nothingness, grew from Ahren. He could not see it (and could not see anything), and no one without a sixth sense would have any idea of what it was. But the form was dragon-like, a dragon that was not a dragon, and it swallowed the bloody ghost whole.
indent And just like that, everything went silent. Ahren’s eyes returned to normal and once more he collapsed, breathing heavily, bleeding, and shaking.
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Despite being frightened and completely confused, Jasper now felt worthless on top of it all. He could only watch as his father seemingly argued with himself, threatened himself, and then went back around again. Arguing quickly changed to violence though, the knife came out and Jasper watching, hoping and praying that his father would just snap out of it and go back to normal. Would he watch him hurt himself? Kill himself even? The knife went flying suddenly, Jasper wrenching back out of the way, more as an instant reaction than anything, but it didn't seem over yet. He clawed his face, spoke, and the boy didn't even know if he was talking to him or not.
He was only just starting to decipher what was his father and what was not when the ghost was expelled, staggering and seeming confused. None-the-less, Jasper scuttled backward a bit, getting himself away from the thing before it was just gone. He wasn't sure what he'd seen, what it was that had happened to the thing, but it was gone. Ahren hit the ground again and it was in that moment that Rusalki had appeared, standing just behind his father. He was giving Jasper that look, the 'you know what you need to do so do it' look that he often gave. Jasper, reluctant and still shaken, eased forward until he was close to his father, dropping to his knees on the ground.
"Dad?" He was whispering, reaching out a shaky hand to touch his father's arm. |
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indent Even as he sat on the ground, Ahren was in denial. That wasn’t real. He was unstable, he was fucked up, that wasn’t real. The blood on his face had not yet begun to clot, and dripped from his cheek to the snow. His breathing was heavy, labored. Only Jasper’s voice tore him from the quiet surrender of that sweet denial. One hand shot out, grabbed his son’s wrist. Ahren could not stand to be touched in this state. Without a word he let go and found his feet, still staggering, and went to the tree. Wrenching the knife from the bark, the red-eyed male stood still for a minute, staring ahead at the deep wound in the tree coldly.
indent “No one hears about this,” he said lowly. There was a dangerous threat in his tone, a warning.
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