Theme 06: Kooga - Week 4

Boy am I gonna be glad when July rolls around o.- allergies have been killing my brain. I just want to crawl into a hole and hibernate for a while. Feeling very tired, very... meh-I-dun-care-about-anything. Been having a hard time keeping up with everything. It's one of those periods of time where doing anything seems like a huge chore (yes, I do think I'm chronically depressed XD might just be the weather that's still got to realize it's summer already). Anyway: feeling meh. Chances are I'll disappear on Twilight Princess for a while since I feel like I'd enjoy that, but not before at least making my weekly post. I've still got a lot to do this week, which I'll get to gradually.

So, week 4. I honestly don't know what else to say about Kooga XD I've basically said everything. I haven't decided yet which character will be next week's theme... I have so many headpeople, yet I don't know which would be interesting to talk about.

For now, I shall leave you with a cute moment, because I like to show Kooga's good side :)

Like a child, greedy and curious, Kooga wondered what other exotic treasures he might find, and begun opening drawers and dressers and looking through private affairs in Kristofa's room. It was there he found mementos, notes, books and gifts and other memorabilia that, he thought, seemed all to originate from women. Expressions of love and loss and gratitude – and few other things he thought he really shouldn't have been reading. Most, if not all, written in Human.

There were a couple of letters he read entirely. They were sad, beautiful – honest. And expressed a love for Kristofa which seemed to contradict what he'd seen of him the day before. How many women had he known in his life? There were a lot of notes and letters. Why did he keep them? Didn't he love the woman from yesterday? Then, why…?

Kooga let out a shout when he heard the outside door shut close. He fumbled with the numerous papers he'd spread across the floor, never thinking that Kristofa would return so soon. Or had so much time passed already? Where should he hide?!

He heard Kristofa's voice coming from the living room, and cringed. "I don't appreciate you rummaging through my things," Kristofa said loudly, then muttering to himself in Syrilae, "and leaving everything out of place… I can't believe this."

Even chairs lied on the floor. Every available piece of furniture, opened; every shelf, pilaged; books strewn across the table, piled together like some common firewood. It seemed like nothing remained where it was supposed to be found. Unbelievable.

"Kooga!", Kristofa called out, "where are you! What are you doing!"

"Nothing!" Kooga called back, and he thought, idiot!

"You call this nothing ?", Kristofa said when he entered his bedroom. It seemed like a storm had passed through and blown every carefully organized stack of papers out of its way.

"I didn't… it's not… I found it like this!"

"They just… happened to throw themselves at you."

"Yeah!"

Kristofa just stared. It seemed so out of place: Kooga appeared to be a grown boy, yet his reactions often reminded him of a terrified little child with no self-control. Lying to get out of trouble. Aggressive to protect himself. Completely lost and insecure.

Kristofa came over and sat on the edge of his bed, then leaned down and grabbed a few papers. He had never realized how many he'd collected over the years. So many tokens of appreciation from women known and, sometimes, cherished – so many words that remained but on paper, unread, unknown, and neglected.

"Did you read them ?", Kristofa asked, his attention drawn to the pool of paper feelings at their feet.

Kooga gasped, "No! I didn't read anything!"

"What do they say ?

"I'm not angry," Kristofa said calmly, "the past means nothing to me. But I've never been able to read them. What do they say?"

"Is that why you keep them ?", Kooga asked, suddenly quite relaxed. Kristofa smiled.

"Maybe. I've never thought about it."

For a while, Kristofa listened to Kooga reading him letters and notes from women he'd once known, and reminisced. At times he stopped the boy, knowing that certain words were better left unspoken – other times, he guessed what to expect and preferred Kooga be left ignorant. Not everything was childproof, and some women were damn explicit.

There were few Kristofa could picture still. Rather, his mind replaced each figure by an image of Niskania's hatred – 'I don't love you', still he heard it, haunting, cutting its way through his throat. It'd been a cruel thing to say on her part, after all he'd been through.

Kristofa reached for his back and absently kneaded the scarred skin concealed under his shirt. Did Niskania know about Kassandra? If so, what exactly had she seen?

Kooga's voice was a welcome distraction.

"You want me to continue ?"

"Na-no, it's okay. A-thank you. I think… will you be okay by yourself ?"

"Sure," Kooga replied with little conviction, "you want me to just stay here?"

"Ia, fine," Kristofa replied, getting up on his feet. Then he added, "and clean up this mess."

"But—"

"Just do it."