"Say you'll never die; you'll always haunt me..."
✖✖
✖✖
✖✖ тнє ∂єтαιℓѕ ση мє.
My official name on my birth certificate is unknown but I prefer to go by Xander.
I took my first breath on March 26, 1926, and I took my last on December 31, 1943.
If you aren't able to tell I'm obviously a male and I'm usually hitting on whoever suits my fancy.
Don't be surprised if you find me being introspective, intelligent, silent, and a bit aloof. Being around as long as I have, I've gained quite a bit of knowledge, consequently, though, not much interests me anymore. I tend to shun others, not bothering to explain myself when explanation is needed. Often, rather than divulging my own thoughts, I'll just leave. I figure that no matter how many times I try, no one will understand what I'm trying to convey anyway, so why bother? I'm not the type to make conversation, but if someone should need to know anything of me, I will politely oblige.
тнє ∂ιяту ∂єтαιℓѕ.
✖✖ I've experienced a lot, so to begin I guess I'll start here: I don't remember much about my past, but I do get random flashes of memory from my short 17 years as a physical being. I had a brother, not much younger than me. Our father was foreign, from Germany, and was only allowed in the country because he was married to our mother. They abandoned us to fend for ourselves in a shabby hotel on the edge of town, so they could find jobs and money elsewhere. I tried, to the best of my ability, to protect my brother, but it was difficult. The manager of the hotel took pity on us and let us stay in the room we rented for only five dollars a week. One day, my mother came back and informed me that she was sending my brother to boarding school where he'd be taken care of. The tears were many, but I knew it was the only way he'd survive. My mother left with my brother and that's when I found the clock. I never saw them again. I don't remember what happened to me upon entering the clock tower, but when I awoke I was dead(Which is convoluted, I understand, but it is the only way I can think to describe my action.), and I had no memory of what had happened. A strange woman told me that I was to be the keeper of the clock, to care for and mend her home should it be needed. Never one to question what I'm told, I nodded and began my work. I didn't start remembering my life as a physical being until years later, after the cold one and the shapeshifter arrived. They are triggered by nothing in particular, but often leave me exhausted afterward.
Have I left anything out...? Oh, yeah! When there's nothing to do, and I need to hide from my own conflicting thoughts, one can usually find me repairing or polishing the clock's wheels. The cogs are really all I have to keep me more or less sane. I didn't start to regain my memories until years later, and they seem to be triggered by nothing in particular, only when my thoughts turn inward.
Though I am an ethereal being, I cannot help but think that I have a heart. It's a silly habit that I had from when I was human, but sometimes I wonder if I really do...
Oftentimes, I appear completely naked. Clothing is a physical restriction, not that I'd wear any if I could choose to anyhow.
I collect marbles, something else retained from my mortality, and will often ask the shapeshifter to find one for me when he leaves the tower...
✖✖ тнє ℓιттℓє єχтяαѕ.
More, Please? (:
☆ The clock
☆ Silence
☆ The last few moments before sunrise
☆ Marbles
Eww... Please Get them Away!
✘ The color orange and most variants of
✘ Noise
✘ Repeating myself
✘ Clothing
☆ The clock
☆ Silence
☆ The last few moments before sunrise
☆ Marbles
Eww... Please Get them Away!
✘ The color orange and most variants of
✘ Noise
✘ Repeating myself
✘ Clothing
You may have already guessed... but, I don't have any Ink or Holes
because I'm a ghost. <.<
My Actions and Words Are Controlled by: The Fullmetal Princess
⋙ Xander "The Lost Soul"
|It is pure irony and agony that I fell in love with him in life, but am only able to touch him in death...|
✖✖✖✖|I wish tears could fall from my eyes...|
¶Disclaimer: So... Not all of the characters are mine... Just Xander, but I would like to thank Leifka personally for coaxing my brain into having the most amazing inspirational orgasm I've ever had(Taken from the Cogs universe). It might need perfecting by the time I'm done with it, but that's all part of the joys of writing. I hope you all enjoy. <3 -The Fullmetal Princess
INSP: “It is pure irony and agony that I fell in love with him in life, but am only able to touch him in death. I wish tears could fall from my eyes, for an angel has died, and he deserves to be cried over.”
-What if there was a connection between Alexander and Xander in the Cogs universe?
Events: Xander(unnamed at the time) happens upon Alexander during his short stay at the Cog Tower and befriends him. ((“What's your name?” “I don't have one.” “That won't do.... I suppose you could have mine.” “Yours?” “How would you like to be called Xander?” “...Xander?” “Yes.” “I'd like that very much, Alex.”))
-He under goes relentless teasing and mortification at the hands of Fin.
-Alexander leaves and Fin takes on his form which causes some rather strange behavior in Xander.|
INSP: “It is pure irony and agony that I fell in love with him in life, but am only able to touch him in death. I wish tears could fall from my eyes, for an angel has died, and he deserves to be cried over.”
-What if there was a connection between Alexander and Xander in the Cogs universe?
Events: Xander(unnamed at the time) happens upon Alexander during his short stay at the Cog Tower and befriends him. ((“What's your name?” “I don't have one.” “That won't do.... I suppose you could have mine.” “Yours?” “How would you like to be called Xander?” “...Xander?” “Yes.” “I'd like that very much, Alex.”))
-He under goes relentless teasing and mortification at the hands of Fin.
-Alexander leaves and Fin takes on his form which causes some rather strange behavior in Xander.|
◢
~~~~~~~~~1943~~~~~~~~~
I was seventeen years old when I was brought to the Cog Clock Tower with nothing but the cold clutch of death, and the Witch's calm command to keep the clock in working order. Though the woman never told me directly, I knew I was dead. My body was bare save for the misty sheen that seemed to hover around me when I chose to be visible, for you see... Ghosts don't really exist at all.
I tried to leave, but when I phased through the Tower walls, some strange force would prevent me from ever reaching outside. Instead of seeing the pale yellow sunset setting of the town, I would only see the dim gray insides of the Tower again. I never attempted escape after that initial failure, and had resigned my fate to one of servitude at the Cog Tower.
During my stay, besides the Witch, I had only met two other people.
The Cold One, who was called Metis, was a vampire-like immortal. He didn't crave blood, in fact, he didn't seem to crave anything all. He merely held all the qualities of a vampire with none of the negatives. He never left the Tower, though if it was because he wasn't able to like myself or of his own volition, I never knew. I didn't know what to think of him, always asking me questions about my body to which I never knew the answers. It was intriguing to me as well, how I could pass through walls, phase through most anything else, and was practically weightless, yet I was able to touch anything I needed to, and I could carry even the heaviest of the clock's machinery.
The Shifter was an inconsistency in himself. At times he seemed to crave our attention, but then, particularly on days when he had gone to and returned from the outside world, he didn't want us around him at all. Fineukin,or Fin as the Cold One and I called him, had his own volatile temper, and until later, didn't have a common form among his various shifting. We rarely saw him keep the same form for more than a day or so. One night, after a particularly long visit to the outside town, Fin returned, exhausted, and placed a small, glass ball in my hand. He said I asked him to get me one in a dream, but I remembered doing no such thing. Instead of asking questions, I merely looked down at the sphere. It was a marble, and with it, my first memory came back to me.
~1937~
Chalk lines drawn on the pavement in the shape of a large circle. A boy with sandy blond hair dusts his hands on his pants and looks over to another boy. Similar in appearance to him, but he was clearly younger.
“Well... Want me to teach you how to shoot marbles?” The older boy asks, to which the younger nods his head furiously in response. “Ok, ok... Calm down. I'll show you everything you need to know.” He reaches a hand in his pocket and pulls out a small pouch, emptying it's contents in his cupped palm: a set of no more than ten marbles, and one larger one. “Pick one.” He says.
The boy points to one with a blue and red helix within it.
“Not that one.” The older boy speaks quickly, and says it again when the younger boy points to two others and the large one. “Definitely not that one.” A chuckle, and the boy finally points to a plain white marble save for a yellow streak painted across it, and the older nods. “That's your first. Now you can start your own collection from mine, just like Dad let me start mine from his.”
The memory was short, but it took its toll on me. Fin looked at me with the amusement that someone else was suffering. I turned away from him that night, but it wasn't the last time I remembered the blond boy.
~~~~~~~~~1961~~~~~~~~~
I hadn't even been at the Tower for twenty years when we had our first visitor. I'd seen Alex before, when I was looking out the small windows down on the town that feared the Tower with envious abandon. He never seemed to stick out to anyone but me as other people passed him by without second glances. The boy couldn't have been much older than I had been before I died, and had a dangerous fascination with the clock Tower.
I wish I could have warned him, could have told him to forget about the clock Tower and all the supposed 'spooks' that dwelt within it's stone confines.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You shouldn't be here.” I whispered into his ear as he slept. I felt as though he needed a fair warning before the Witch discovered his presence in the Tower. He gasped himself awake and looked straight at me, my form seeming to glow in the moonlight.
“I've seen you before!” He shouted, and I hushed him, not wanting to alert the others to his wakefulness. He spoke more quietly this time. “In my dream. I saw you.... You... You're a ghost, aren't you?” It was more like a statement rather than an actual inquiry.
“Yes.” I stated simply, there was no point in explaining further if he was going to gather his own conclusions. Though, I couldn't recall actually meeting him within the confines of his own unconsciousness. “And you shouldn't be here.”
Rather than reacting to my warning, harsh and lacking in sincerity as it was, the boy continued speaking. “My name's Alexander.” I nodded, an inclination that I understood and would continue to listen. “I... I live in town, and I was curious about the rumors surrounding the Cog Tower, so I came here to investigate...” He trailed off a bit, to which I rolled my eyes and patted his shoulder. The action must have surprised him, for he gave me an incredulous look.
I took my hand away, fearing I went too far, but still held my composure. “That remains to be seen.” I spoke coldly, pitying the boy's, Alexander's, foolishness. Didn't he know not to venture where his presence was unneeded, unnecessary? Human curiosity had always been, and still will be, beyond my level of understanding.
A thought came to mind, and I perked up, looking down at him. “Did you come here alone?”
“Yes. There's no one else that would come with me anyway.” His sadness struck a chord within me. This was a melancholy that I could associate myself with, since I had lived in sadness and grief, even though there was no reason for such feelings. I was a boy, as the Witch had put it, 'desperately trying to murder his own soul'.
“No one...”
The boy placed his hand on mine, still startled that he didn't go straight through. “How come you can be see through, but solid?”
I grinned, it was small, but still a grin as I placed my cold hand against the side of his face. “I'm not solid all the time.” And with that, I let my hand go straight through his head, wiggling my fingers on the opposite side of his skull. This was a trick that I delighted in showing the Cold One, one of the very few things up until meeting Alex, that could make me smile. The feature faded from my visage shortly after, however. “Although... I don't know how I do it, only that I can.”
The hours after that were spent answering questions about the Tower, the Witch, and the others I lived with, although information on those subjects was very scarce considering I was still learning myself, and I had only been there twenty years or so.
It was such a short time, but I considered Alex what I never thought to consider most, even Fin and Metis... A friend.
“I guess I should get some sleep, huh?” He looked at me shyly, a look I'd equated to the way younger girls would look at me when I was human, and this took me by surprise because I liked it. Something in my transparent chest thrummed with unnatural excitement, and a desire burst forth for me to create such life in this boy as many times as possible.
I simply nodded, my calm facade not showing the turmoil I felt within.
“The others....” Alexander looked around nervously. “They won't... They won't bother me, will they?”
My eyes widened in surprise just before my face slackened into a warm smile and soft eyes, betraying my cold form. “Of course they won't, Alexander. They'll be too busy teasing me... Well... One of them anyway....” I ventured a palm out to touch his cheek once more, an affectionate gesture, and he shivered. I quickly pulled my hand away.
“No....” Alex whispered to me. “It's okay... It's just... Cold is all...”
I nodded and stood, my nude figure leaving nothing to the imagination, but the boy didn't seem to care. “Sleep.” I said, and it distracted him from his staring. “I'll stay here and make sure you're alright.” After all, why did ghosts need to sleep?
He nodded and settled back down into his make-shift cot. Just before he laid his head down, Alex spoke to me once more, yawning as he did so. “You know.... I think I was born to meet you."
That night, I dreamed for the first time.
~1938~
There were no smiles, there was no laughter. Only tears and sadness. The younger boy was terrified, not wanting to be separated from his parents. The older boy silent, not willing to accept what his parents were saying as reality.
They were leaving. “Finances are tight, and we can't afford to all live together. We're going into the city to make some money. We can only send you some cash every two months, so don't spend it all on chewing gum and marbles. Necessities only, understand? You'll take care of your brother, right?”
His world crumbled with the utterance of that question. He couldn't say no. He was the younger boy's hero. He couldn't say no. He wanted to make his parents happy. He couldn't say no.
“The hotel manager has agreed to let you stay here since he's such good friends with your father.” Doors shut, locks clicked, footsteps down the hall.
And... There was nothing he could do.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One night, Alexander finally asked me a question that I never bothered asking myself.
“What's your name anyway?”
I told him I didn't have one. The question shocked me a bit. I never bothered giving myself a name, and no one had ever called me anything but the Lost Soul, or 'Ghost Boy'(as Fin had so affectionately nicknamed me) for so long.
“Well, that won't do....” He seemed to be thinking to himself. “I suppose... You could have mine.”
“Yours?” I didn't understand. It had been more than twenty years since I'd had human contact, and even I didn't remember much of my time as a mortal. It's amazing what living on a different plane of existence can have on an individual. I barely remembered what it was like to be human, but I found that with the time we'd spent together Alex was giving more and more of my humanity back to me.
“How would you like to be called Xander?” He gave me a contemplative look, a look that I didn't quite recognize. My heart seemed to stir in my chest; not that I had one, but the feeling was there all the same, and I didn't know what to make of his suggestion.
“...Xander?” The name felt disturbingly comfortable rolling off my tongue, and I couldn't help the way the corners of my mouth lifted slightly.
Alex seemed to find this amusing because he chuckled, and the noise was saccharine, angelic bells ringing in my ears. “Yes. Do you like it?”
“I... I like it very much, Alexand--.”
“Just Alex will do.” He interrupted me, chuckling once more, a glint in his eye that always seemed to be present when we spent any amount of time together. “The other half is yours now.”
~1943~
The Cog Tower was an anomaly of the town. The tallest building among small businesses and shack-like homes. The boy was utterly intrigued by it during its construction, even though he was warned by his peers to stay away until it was finished being built, but he kept coming back.
No one ever did find out what happened to him after the final day of construction, and since his brother was away at school, and his family had skipped town years ago, no one ever bothered looking...
~~~~~~~~~1963~~~~~~~~~
I never knew where Alexander ever went.
Metis and I speculated that the Witch had scared him away, since I hadn't seen him staring up at the Tower like before. It had been days since I'd seen him, and his absence was distressing me, much to the amusement of the Shifter. When he wasn't trying to be my friend and work with me, he was constantly teasing me and playing on my insecurities. It had hardened me to most of his childish games, and they hardly affected me anymore, I just let him get it all out.
It was more than a week when he returned, or at least I thought he did. Alexander's slender form weaved through the stone pillars with such familiarity that it confused me. I couldn't recall Alex ever walking around the Tower in such a manner.
The level elation that I felt at seeing my friend again, after I'd already given up hope, was astounding. I hadn't thought I was capable of feeling that sort of emotion.
“Hello, Alex.” I grinned from my upside-down position on the rafter which I'd taken refuge. “It's been a while.”
“Oh, was that his name?” The Shifter looked at his hands and ruffled his hair. “I liked the way he looked, so I think I'll keep this form for a while.”
My heart sank, or at least it would have had I had one. “Oh... Fin... Did you bring me back a--” A glass ball was tossed and quite nearly sailed through my head, but I caught it instinctively. I held the orb in my palm and let myself hover back to the ground, frowning at nothing in particular. “Thanks.”
“What?” Fin grinned a wicked grin. “You upset because I'm not really your little boyfriend?”
“He's not my--”
“I know! I was only teasing.” A sinister chuckle echoed between the pillars of the Tower just before the Shifter stormed off. “You just make it too easy, Ghost Boy.”
“Xander!”
Fin froze in place, turning only his head in my direction. “Excuse me?”
“My name...” I spoke, barely above a whisper. “It's Xander.”
The Shifter scoffed. “Fine. Xander. Whatever.” Then he disappeared into the shadows made by the ever-turning cogs of the clock.
~1943~
“It's okay, boy.” The voice that spoke was gentle, with cruel undertones only heard by a third party when one happened to have been listening. “You have a new home, and soon you'll have a new family. Now... Clean your master's home so she doesn't have to punish you.”
“Yes, Master.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I still dream of Alex, that is, when I actually manage to reach such a state of unconsciousness, and the dreams are all I have left of his memory. Dreams and a name; and Fin's constantly taunting new favorite form.
I can only assume that he is dead, all logic points to that fact. Even if he did leave the Tower of his own volition and live out his life normally, he'd be long dead by now. The dreams are like a soothing balm on my seemingly constant melancholy.
In the dreams, we talk like old friends, touch like new lovers, and never have to worry about the incessant ticking of the clock reminding us that none of this is real.
It is pure irony and agony that I fell in love with him in life, but am only able to touch him in death.
I wish tears could fall from my eyes, for an angel has died, and he deserves to be cried over.
~End of Part 1~
◣~~~~~~~~~Present Day~~~~~~~~~
In the almost seventy years that I've been at the Cog Tower, Fin has kept the shape of Alex just to get a rise out of me. He's never really been one for showing positive affections, so I can only assume that his teasing is just his way of trying to be my friend, counterproductive as it sounds. The Shifter was never one for conventional relationships.
Fineukin was the Witch's favorite, made apparent by his ability to leave the Tower, and he was allowed to enroll in the local school to make his appearances in town less conspicuous.
“It never ceases to amaze me how curious people are about this place.” He told me one afternoon while we were sitting on the rafters and looking out the circular window as the sun was setting. “Particularly the younger ones.”
I nodded, never taking my eyes away from the warm glow coming in through the glass. “Younger humans are more apt to believe in the supernatural.” I inhaled deeply, not actually needing the oxygen(or having lungs to fill), but merely from habit.
The Shifter looked over to me, but I held my gaze outward as he spoke. “They talk of creatures like us almost as if they want to be like us.”
My head once more dipped in affirmation, knowing that deep down, Fineukin hated being different. It was one of the many reasons he always appeared human, though he could take the shape of any living creature. “I cannot imagine anyone would willingly subject themselves to this.” I lifted my hands in front of my face, letting the last few rays of sunlight filter through them. I let out a sigh before returning them to their former place in my lap.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Shifter wrap his arms around his legs, drawing his knees up under his chin. “Yeah...” He hummed out into the fabric of his jeans as he returned his gaze to the window. By now the sun had completely set, bathing the two of us in the bluish light of the moon and that of the streetlamps.
We spent the next few hours in near silence, only staring out the window, watching headlights pass by and listening to the ticking of the clock. Every few minutes, Fin would point out some constellation he remembered and telling me the mythology behind it, something he must have done before he came to the Tower. At times like these, quiet and serene though they were, I feel I see the real Fin, not the angry inconsiderate person he'd have the Cold One and I believe him to be. Decades of servitude were apparent, not to mention the fact that the Witch insisted he attend school with other children. It was constant proof that he would never be that which he desired, as if the Witch were shoving in his face the fact that he would never be human no matter how much he looked like one.
I tried not to look at him. I never did, actually. He still looked like him, and even though it had been almost fifty years since I'd been able to touch Alex, hear his voice, it was difficult to see his face every day; the face of my best friend. His stay was brief, but I couldn't help but miss him.
The Shifter cleared his throat and stood, I looked and, without thinking, winced. He looked me straight in the eyes, and for a moment, I could almost see Alex's melancholy smile, could almost pretend that he was back and we were talking like we used to. Maybe that's why it was so painful to hear Fin's voice come out of that mouth. “I'm gonna go grab some food.”
I could only nod, dumfounded. Even after half a century that face still made my heart thrum, and it didn't help that the Shifter was being so docile at the moment.
“Catch ya later, Ghost Boy.” He winked and climbed down the rafters, the action was typical of Fin, but no matter how much he acted like himself it was still Alex's body, and for that reason I was rendered speechless.
It hadn't even been a minute when I heard Fin leaving. I quickly floated over to the sill, my nude body curling into the curved shape as I watched the Shifter's retreating form outside of the Tower. He turned briefly and looked up at where I was in the window, knowing exactly where I would be once he had left. The nauseous feeling of deja vu followed the action as I remembered Fin's shape-sake doing the very same thing nearly every time he went home.
I almost didn't notice the presence of another on the rafters behind me. A small smile graced my features, though if it was at the memory or the person behind me, I couldn't say. “Hello, Metis.” I turned my head around to look at the Cold One. “What brings you up on the rafters this evening?” My curiosity wasn't out of place. Metis rarely went higher up in the Tower than was necessary for cleaning and repairs, so his presence was odd, but not unheard of.
“Fin went to get food?” He asked instead of answering my question. I was bound to discover his reasons eventually since the Cold One was elusive in conversations, but not completely secretive.
I nodded, scooting back on the sill. An invitation. He grinned briefly and jumped over to the window, a leap that no human would have been able to accomplish. The Cold One was capable of many strange physical feats that I no longer questioned, just accepted it as part of who he was.
He situated himself opposite me on the curved sill, mirroring my position: legs drawn up, arms wrapped around them and chin resting on his knees. He was looking at me intently, a look that usually preceded Metis' opinions.
“You're thinking about him, aren't you?”
My face betrayed none of my surprise at his boldness, although I did look away, smiling. “Ever observant, aren't you, Metis?” I wasn't upset. I'd almost expected the question. There was no use hiding it from him since he wouldn't have said anything unless he was certain, so I was honest. “Yes, I was.”
The Cold One sighed and I turned my eyes to look him in his. I smiled sheepishly, guilt written all over my features. Just by the look of him I could tell he had a million and a half opinions to tell me, but in a style that was purely Metis he would only tell me what was necessary as calmly as possible.
“I cannot even pretend to imagine what's going on in that transparent head of yours,” he grinned, letting me know that that particular bit was only a tease. The Cold One was getting better with emotions and conveying meaning by ways of facial and bodily language, and I had learned that he was incapable of being anything but polite. “But I think you really should forget about him.”
I pressed my closed eyes to my bare knees, nodding so he knew I was still listening.
“Or at least act like it's not hurting you.” He amended, albeit quieter. Metis was always acutely aware of how I was feeling, very intuitive. Very typical of him. “I know...” He hesitated, causing me to look up once more. “The Shifter's appearance can't be helping anything.”
“I had hoped,” I spoke after several minutes of silence. “That after a decade or so Fin would have found a new favorite form, but...” Metis was right. I was hurting and Fin knew what he was doing was causing it.
The Cold One leaned forward and patted my shoulder, signifying that I needn't say more than what I'd already said. “I'm merely concerned about what she would think if she found out that your attentions were elsewhere.” I placed my hand on the one resting on my shoulder, thanking him silently. “I like to think you're my friend, Xander, and I know Fin thinks the same thing, even if he won't say it out loud.” We both chuckled softly at that. Metis had taken to using my given name almost immediately after I had told him about it, though Fin still called me 'Ghost Boy' when he wasn't thinking about it and the Witch still called me the Lost Soul.
“Thank you, Metis” I whispered just loud enough for him to hear, my face turned toward the window. He removed his hand and left the window sill, leaving me alone to my thoughts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“He's right, you know?” I couldn't help but smile at that voice despite the ominous tone and message, the expression only widened when I felt a body only slightly larger than mine press to my back and two strong hands on my shoulders.
“Alex...” One of my hands lifted to brush fingers with the boy I hadn't seen anywhere outside of my own subconscious for nearly fifty years.
“The Witch can destroy you, Xander.” The voice spoke the given half of his own name with a familiarity that warmed my body to the core. “If your soul is eradicated, then you will never be free. You can never see me again.”
The words stung in their blatant honesty, but I knew he was trying to help. “I know, Alex.” I rested my head on his shoulder. “I'll try, if only for you.”
Those hands tightened briefly on my shoulders. “Thank you, Xander.” I could only nod, letting the next few moments go on in complete silence, basking in the presence of the boy.
Quickly, and without warning, the presence was gone, leaving me with only a ghost of what could never be. There was amusement in his next words. “You've got company.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Huh?”
“I said...” Fin spoke out around a mouthful of cheeseburger. The Shifter was the only one of the three of us that actually required sustenance to survive, another reason he was allowed to come and go from the Tower as he pleased. He was sitting opposite me on the window sill, where Metis had been sitting before, one leg swinging over the edge. “I don't understand how you can sleep. I mean... You're a damn Ghost Boy.” He chuckled, but the noise was a bit muffled.
I could only stare past him and shrug, still trying to hold on to the sensations from within my dream.
“Whatever.” The Shifter was obviously annoyed, but I couldn't bring myself to try and amend it. I had my own curiosities.
I rested the side of my face on my knees, looking at him as I spoke. “Fin? Why have you kept that form for so long?”
I visibly cringed when the Shifter's laughter rang throughout the Tower. He was back to his old self, that serious, pleasantly compliant, thoughtful and rather enjoyable person gone upon his return. “Don't you like it?”
'I like it very much. You have no idea.' I fought hard not to tell him that. My true feelings would only be fuel for his immature banter, and I didn't think it would be worth the attention. “I was just wondering.” I suddenly felt sick, nervous, and I let myself sink through the window sill and down to the ground below.
“Come on, Xander!” The Shifter called out after me, and he sounded genuinely upset. “I was only kidding!”
I couldn't bring myself to look back. I refused to see Alex's face be so cruel, so unlike the boy I remembered.
I don't remember ever falling asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“They're all right. You know that, don't you boy?” The voice was cruel and motherly all at once. A voice I'd come to love and hate at the same time. “I'm jealous, Lost Soul.” A slender clawed finger pulled my chin up and my eyes unwillingly meet hers. That same hand cupped my face gently as she smiled.
The Witch was beautiful and terrifying, more of a contradiction than the Shifter could ever be. I had a momentary lapse in judgment and corrected her. “My name is Xan--”
But I was interrupted as that hand which had been so gentle before pulled away only to come back down hard across my face. “I know what you like to be called! I refuse to call you by that name, Lost Soul.” She put emphasis on my given title, rage apparent upon her gorgeous face.
I placed my hand on my cheek, wincing at the sting and sobbing a bit. “I... I'm sorry, Master.” My words were sincere. The Witch knew that I was the most impressionable of the three of us in the Tower, and she never passed up a chance to hurt me.
“You will remember your place and you will obey me, do you understand, Lost Soul?” I nodded, silently agreeing.
She pulled me forward, hugging me close, and I held her back with the desperation of a child needing the acceptance of his mother. “You know how jealous I get when my boys forget about me.” She hummed a soft tune, something classical that I'd recognized from my time among the living, and ran her fingers through my hair.
“I don't think I could ever forget you, Master...”
But the Witch's presence faded away as someone called out my name.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Xander! Wake up, dammit! Xander!” My eyes shot open, looking into the soft green of Alex's. My hand reached up and cupped his cheek.
“Alex...” I nearly sobbed. If I could have cried, I would have. My arms swung around his broad shoulders, holding him close. “You saved me from her! She—She...” I couldn't finish my sentence. My gaze fell on Metis, who had apparently been standing there for quite some time.
Realization struck and I pulled away, ashamed that I made the mistake. “I—I'm so sorry, Fin.” The Shifter shook his head, cheeks tinged pink. At any other time I would have tried to tease him for it, but I was so terrified from my time with the Witch that I was incapable of playful banter.
I looked away and curled my body in on itself, shaking slightly.
“What happened, Xander?” Metis was always straight and to the point.
I took a deep breath, regaining my composure before I spoke. “The Master is jealous.”
The Cold One would never say 'I told you so', but I knew he was thinking it. I was only glad that he mentioned something to me earlier. Because of that, I wasn't completely thrown off guard by the Witch's actions.
I turned back to look at him, noticing that Fin was long gone. Metis pointed upward, telling me without telling me that the Shifter had climbed up the Tower to the clock face. “Are you alright?”
I nodded. “Yes, now a least.” I felt considerably calmer after seeing some familiar faces. Something didn't add up, though, and I stared up into the Cold One's eyes. I'd hidden myself away on one of the higher rafters just below some of the main clockwork and gears. The sound of the ticking was more powerful, and I was rarely disturbed when I hid there. “You were both right here when I came to, Metis. How.....?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “How long do you think you were asleep?” I didn't like the way he asked that, it sounded ominous, but I tried to answer as honestly as possible anyway.
“It couldn't have been more than an hour.” I shook my head.
“Xander, you've been out for more than a week.”
My eyes widened and I stood, looking to Metis for something, anything that said he wasn't serious, but there was nothing. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and I'd have been lying to say I wasn't frightened. I turned away and floated up to the clock face, leaving the Cold One to his own devices.
The Shifter's presence was a surprise to me, but I did remember after the fact that he had climbed up here. He turned to me, expressionless as he spoke. “Oh.... You're up here, huh, Ghost Boy?”
I nodded, still feeling a bit embarrassed that I'd made such a terrible mix up earlier, and took a seat across from him. The set-up was very similar to how we were sitting earlier, only at the clock face rather than the window. There was nowhere for either of us to look but at each other. “I—uh... About earlier, Fin. I—”
“Don't.” He stated simply. “You weren't exactly lucid. I'm not upset about that.”
'Then what are you upset about?' “O—Ok...” I didn't know what else to say, and since I was already at the face, I wasn't about to leave so suddenly.
We sat in silence for nearly an hour. I, unable to say anything relevant and still trying to come to terms with the fact that I was comatose for a week(How can a ghost go into a coma anyway?); and Fin, unable or unwilling to say anything at all. It was the Shifter that eventually broke the silence, though.
“We were.... We were really worried about you.” He admitted, although quietly. “I was really worried about you. After the first day, especially, and when we tried to touch you, we just phased through.” I hardly knew what to say. His confession left me confused, an emotion that I rarely felt, and didn't know how to properly handle. I merely listened as he revealed his fears to me. “Metis thought she was going to destroy you. What...” He paused, looking me straight in the eyes. “What did she do, Xander?”
I held his gaze. “She's jealous because my attentions aren't focused solely on her. She hit me, I tried to phase, but she prevented it.” I touched my cheek gingerly. “I haven't felt physical pain in nearly seventy years, Fin. It shocked me.” I made sure to emphasize that. “She held me afterward and hummed to me; like some twisted version of a mother.” My face contorted in disgust.
“You really care about that boy that much?” It sounded as if he was hurt by the fact. I didn't know if I should be offended that he completely ignored my answer or surprised that he was showing such a display of emotion to me. It made me wonder what exactly had been going on in the Shifter's head for the past fifty years.
“Not that it matters much at this point. You know he'd be long dead by now.” If I could blush, I would have. Fin's sudden change in attitude was a bit unsettling. “Were you... Were you really that worried about me?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
A whisper of something tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Thanks, Fin.” I reached over to grip his hand softly, and to my surprise, he didn't pull away, though it should be noted that his face was once again glowing pink.
Fin fell asleep, curled into the curved inside ledge of the clock face. I stayed up, making sure he didn't fall.
~End of Part 2~
~1943~
Small drops of blood scatter and smear on the stained white tile of the bathroom. A boy with sandy blond hair hisses in pain. “Dammit!” He tosses the razor blade in the sink and reaches for the tissue paper.
He'd never really had to shave before, but recently he'd been having to almost everyday, and since his parents weren't around, no one could teach him how to do it properly.
He feels his heart jump at the sound of his hotel room door opening and closing, glad that he was no longer holding the blade to his face. There was a light rapping at the bathroom door.
“Are you decent, William? I have something for you.”
The boy smiles upon hearing the woman's voice. “Yes, Mrs. Fetch, I'm dressed.”
A woman with strawberry blonde hair enters, carrying a plain cardboard box on her hip, her swollen belly causing her to have to open the door all the way. “I keep telling you to call me Molly, dear.” Upon entering, she gasps, “What on Earth, William?” She quickly waddles out of the room to set the box on the bed before returning. “You're bleeding!” As if she had forgotten about it within the few seconds it took her to return.
“I was trying to shave...” The boy speaks, embarrassed. “The operative word being 'trying'.”
The woman smiles, an expression that never fails to warm the boy's soul and drops the lid on the toilet so she can sit down. “Come over here.” She gestures for the boy to stand in front of her while she spins the wet brush in the cup to build up foam. “I learned to do this while my husband was in the hospital after his accident.” She explains, cleaning off the razor blade before painting the lower half of the boy's face. “He broke both of his arms and couldn't stand his face being too stubbly.” She chuckles and the sound is melodic, making the boy smile more.
“I know. He told me about the accident once before.”
The woman puts her finger to her lips. “Hush now, don't want to be cutting those handsome lips of yours, do we, William?” She was always so kind to him, especially since his parents left him and later sent his brother away to finishing school. Her husband was the owner of the hotel and a close family friend. Every few strokes of the blade on his face, she gives him some sort of tip, something he commits to memory.
She moves quickly and soon she is wiping his face down with a warm damp towel, and cleaning out the few small cuts on his chin. “You think you can do this yourself next time?” She teases.
“Yes, ma'am.” The blond boy smiles, ruffling his sandy hair. He seems to remember always being happy around this woman.
“Oh! I'd almost forgotten!” She leads him back into the bedroom and pulls a radio out of the box she brought in. “Terrance bought a new one and told me to bring this to you. Thought you could use the entertainment.”
“Thank you so much! I appreciate it, really. Give my thanks to Mr. Fetch.” The boy's joy is apparent by his smile and the swiftness with which he plugs in the radio and tunes it to a station that plays some of his favorite classical tunes. “I wanted a radio, but I just started working my new job, so I didn't have the money yet.”
“You've got another job so soon?”
The seventeen-year-old nods, proud of himself. “At the antique shop. The owner needs someone to work the register while he makes repairs.”
The woman places the radio back in the box and sits on the bed, rubbing her stomach absently. The boy had the suspicions that she didn't realize that she did it, and found it endearing all the same. “The doctor says I could deliver any day now.” She smiles warmly, a look that the blond had grown accustomed to seeing when she spoke about her unborn child. “I spend most of my time worrying that he'll never come out, and the rest of the time afraid that he will.”
The boy reaches out his palm. “Can I...?” The woman nods and pulls his wrist to place his hand over her distended abdomen. It never ceased to amaze him, this miracle of life, and he gasps in delight when he feels a tiny foot press out against the inside of her belly and into his palm. “Wow... Have you decided on a name?”
The woman nods, her skin and pale green eyes practically glowing as she spoke of her son. “Mmhmm... We're naming him Alexander.........”
...To Be Continued...
|....for an angel has died, and he deserves to be cried over...|
