Theme 06: Kooga - Week 2

Nothing worse than hitting the wrong keys and refreshing your page in the middle of a long comment >.< and I can't re-write it. @.@ so much for my ProjectComment requirements for today, I fear... I'm too disgusted to get back into it, and it's already so late... ugh. e.e

Long week, not much to say. Got some writing done, some arting done... And now I'm getting my blog done XD

It was very hard to find a segment to share, as there are some things I don't want to talk about yet. Eventually I settled on this fragment, which shows a bit of Kooga's nicer side... and his destructive personality.

Yes I decided to end it on a cliffhanger ^^

For a while now, Kooga had been struggling with numerous, dissonant emotions battering him in every corner of his splintered soul. Feelings of rage, of sadness, of regret and abandon, of loneliness, betrayal, hope and hatred and love for a woman who'd never done anything for him, except breaking his heart, spirit and bones time and time again for no reason he'd ever clearly understood.

The woman who'd birthed him, whom he'd called mother, who'd treated him worse than were he a famished beast begging for a bone. The horrible being who'd tried to infect his mind with death, cruelty and power he'd rejected with such vehemence that, eventually, it had become as an inherent part of him, as though the choice was never his to make. Power, glorious and petrifying, which burned beneath his skin and whispered to his mind – confusing, opposed, struggling with one another for full dominion over his own miserable life.

Not a day went by that he felt at peace. Not a day, when he might find respite from the inner battlefield ravaging his soul. Not a single day, when he might smile.

But every day, every single day forced upon him by this unwanted life, he carefully observed the world surrounding him with the curiousity and intensity of a little child seeking greater understanding and appreciation. Adult in form but oh so young of heart, overgrown by the power of a woman who'd not cared the slightest for his own well-being or safety. She'd not wanted to raise a child, let alone birthe one of her own – too much hassle, too much crying. Too much of everything. Too much hatred breathing deep within.

A shiver ran down Kooga's spine. He remembered those eyes vividly, those terrible purple eyes staring down at him with cruel contempt. He still feared her deeply; even now, even knowing she was gone, he still expected her to return from the dead just to torment him further and destroy what little benevolence bloomed on such infertile soul. He let out a sob and sank through his knees. Strong, gentle hands caught him, and reality suddenly encircled him, as though fog as thick as infinity finally lifted and he could breathe once more.

The clamour of the townsfolk parading, the gallop of horses and carriages and playful cheering of children were as deafening to him as the thunderous roar of cannons. His long pointy ears twitched uncontrollably and his arms wrapped tightly round the woman who'd caught his fall. Her tepid hands gently stroked his face and covered his ears. He held her tight and rested his head on her chest, closing his eyes so to will the tears away. Eventually, the frantic beat of his heart adjusted to the slow, steady pounding of her own – the only true peace he'd ever known.

They were hustled aside by a fairly large, pompous woman clad in bright garments leading an overburdened horse through the crowds, yelling at each passerby she nudged out of her way. "Git outta way, ye scum!", she snapped at a couple of playing children whom her horse nearly trampled, were it not for their mother's quick reflexes. One of the children, a boy barely out of his teens, broke free from his mother's grip and grabbed a pebble. The mother desperately tried to stop her son, but it was already too late. The pebble hit the back of the pompous woman's head with force. The mother let out a desperate cry and pulled the boy into her arms, clinging to him as though life itself.

"Dare ye?!", the bloated woman called out to the child and mother, a hand at the back of her head. Speckles of red stuck to her fingers.

"Why ye streetscum!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, shoving the horse's reins into the nearest hands available – that of a frail old bearded man who'd never dare misbehave. The woman pulled out a small, curved wooden weapon from her belt, and aimed its hollow barrel at the little boy.

Thunder rolled across the street, silencing the slowing swarms of incredulous citizens.

The mother's limp, lifeless body slumped onto the cobblestones with final grace. The children's cries rose like the moans of the dead, howling for their mother to wake, nudging her with bloodstained hands and the naïve fervour of the innocent.

The murderer put her flintlock pistol away, heaving a grunt of contempt. She'd soon snatched the reins of her valuable cargo, and continued on her way.

The children's distress pierced Kooga's heart as though their suffering was his own. Somewhere in a corner of his hectic mind, somewhere deep and close and absolute, another cry faded back into the dark. A cry like rusted metal, grating, demanding. Forceful. Fresh history repeated itself.

Despite Idora's best efforts to subdue the boy and ask he not make himself known, Kooga rose to his feet and glared towards the woman's carriage, filled with the commodities of the obscenely wealthy. Probing elbows nudged their neighbours as some noticed the odd, auren-skinned elvin boy standing in the middle of the road as though transfixed. A single cry, "Watch out!!!", already came too late.

Kooga had raised his hand, which had briefly glowed as fiercely as his bright green eyes. A burst of fiery, molten energy crossed the distance instantly and crashed into the woman's carriage, setting the wood of it ablaze. The horse, startled by the force with which the carriage smashed into its unsuspecting rump, reared up with a terrified neigh and gallopped away blaze in tow, frenzied, parting the seas of bemused bystanders. The woman narrowly avoided being trampled to death. She'd thrown herself against a couple of sturdy men, who broke her fall and a few of their ribs, and now stared, incredulous, at the loss of thousands and thousands of aur.

Her attention turned towards the source of the attack. She choked on her own saliva when she saw but a boy, and elvin at that. She instinctively pulled out her pistol and fired at Kooga, but the shot missed him entirely and lodged itself into a distant wall.

"Try it again, you bitch!" the boy shouted, enraged, "Come on, I dare you!!"

Gaping, the woman hesitated. Fear stayed her trembling hand as much as pride urged her to shoot. She snapped at the people trying to help her up – or simply trying to pry the pistol out of her hands, and got back on her feet. That pistol still aimed at the elvin boy.

"Come on!!", he spat at her, raising his arms sideways to further entice her, "What're you waiting for, huh! Kill me! Do it! Do—"

The bullet's impact tossed him back a couple of meters with a loud snap. He crashed into the cobblestones and felt, right away, that his right shoulder was broken. Repressing tears, he pushed himself slowly up with his left arm. The woman stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed the boy's arm: deformed, as though he'd grown too many joints between hand and forearm.

"Kooga, enough," Idora breathed to him as she came to kneel beside him, a hand on his back. Her purple eyes sought out his own, but he resentfully avoided them. "Do not make yourself known. These matters do not—"

Thunder rolled across the street. Drops of red begun to trickle down Idora's brow and onto Kooga's shoulder. Slowly his head turned, needing but unwilling to see what he knew had just happened.

The bullet had bored its way through Idora's forehead and ended its murderous course against the pavement, splitting it open like her skull.