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Ashen Past, Molten Future [Alexander Meadows]

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Ashen Past, Molten Future [Alexander Meadows]

Post by Jack Hallcome on July 3rd 2013, 10:53 am

[Better Days- The Goo Goo Dolls]

The blankets were warm, enveloping Jack, as he slowly drifted into and out of sleep. His breathing was smooth and even, as he enjoyed the bliss of the place between sleep and awake; the place where you can remember your dreams and forget your worries. He laid, tossing and turning contentedly. Time had no meaning, as he let himself drift into awareness at a leisurely pace.

Soon, Jack slowly opened his eyes. The shades were drawn, so he didn't have to squint from the light. Slowly unraveling himself from the thick fabric surrounding him, the teen stretched with a yawn, enjoying the freedom of extending his limbs until a few of them popped lightly. After falling back on the pillow for a few final magical seconds, Jack threw the covers aside.

The teen tall and slender. His papery white skin was stretched over a seemingly frail frame adorned with only lean muscle and a pair of black boxer-briefs. His smooth chest rose up and down ever-so slowly and the corners of his thin pink lips were pulled into a serene grin. His obsidian eyes fluttered open, and he took a minute to just stare at the ceiling while the bed was still so warm and inviting. His bright orange hair was spread over his pillow wildly, and attempted to cling to it as the teen pulled himself off of the sheets, swing his feet around and standing slowly with another drawn out stretch. Thoughtfully, he ran his tongue across his unnaturally white and sharp teeth as he ambled towards the bathroom.

The interior of the cabin was both quaint and functional. It was medium-sized and very well-kept. Everything was very organized and clean. In addition, the furniture, appliances, and other components that made up the living spaces were very high-end. A large entertainment center and the latest gaming system sat on one side, accompanied by an almost unrealistic accumulation of games. On the other side was the large bed that Jack had just exited. There were two doors that led to the kitchen and bathroom respectively. Still in his sleepy state, the teen slunk towards the latter.

He entered the room, habitually closing the door behind him, even though no one else on earth acknowledged this cabin. He turned the shower on, and steam filled the room as he relieved himself of some sexual tension. Once finished, he stepped inside the shower and cleansed himself. He enjoyed the feeling of the hot water rolling down his skin, turning it a temporary pinkish color. After a while- generally longer than what would constitute three showers for most people -Jack cracked the door, allowing the steam to escape, before drying himself.

Jack stepped out of the bathroom and pulled an outfit from his closet at random, since they were all of the same general style. After sliding into it, he went back into the bathroom and brushed his teeth vigorously before applying deodorant and cologne. Once finished, he turned to the mirror and gave a feral smile. Something in his ebony eyes sparked as he gazed upon his own appearance. Even so, there was a cold, sinking feeling in his stomach. It was hardly noticed, though, as it was almost always present.

The teen was wearing slim, black jeans that had red hemming and ended a couple inches above his red Chuck Taylors, revealing his pale ankles, (He wore a slim black chain on one ankle.), a tight black T-shirt with thin white stripes that were lined with red pinstripes, and a zipped, grey jacket. The jacket had a skull printed on it that seemed to be glaring, as well as a few splotches of black- All lined in red. On one wrist, he wore a black, finger-less glove, that had sliver chains intersecting across it. On the other, he wore a rubber wristband that had a grey skull, outlined in red, on it. The reflection turned sharply, walking out of the door behind it, reaching out to grab a smartphone and a wallet at the last minute. Jack did not bother to close the door behind him.

The male walked a few feet away from his house before turning on the dot, spinning back around to face it. The sun beat down not-so pleasantly on the back of his neck, and the air was hot and uncomfortable. The teen would have greatly preferred to turn back around and go back inside. But, no. Today was the day he told himself he would change things for himself- Whether for better or worse, he didn't care. He outstretched both hands towards the serene cabin, and spoke.

[End Music]

"I'm finished with you." His voice was smooth. It was a mid-tenor, although it showed small traces of being able to reach higher effortlessly. It lacked the rasp of maturity as well as the drone of childhood. Jack had always relished in the sound of it. He ran his tongue over his teeth quickly, in a brief moment of thought, before everything exploded.

Bright red and orange flames shot from the slender teen's palms. The flames reached the outskirts of the cabin and were amplified, as if by some invisible explosive. The extremely hot flames removed all visibility of the cabin in a storm of smoke, haze, and inferno. A smirk slithered across Jack's features, twisting his lips into venomous condescension. His power- one of his only sources of joy -was so ironically pulled form that ever-present cold sinking feeling in his stomach. The anxiety that had such a grip on the outwardly confident male was temporarily diluted when his pyrokinesis was being exploited. Of course, he couldn't possibly create flames of this volume for extended times, as it was both impractical and draining. As the smoke cleared, the cabin was nothing but charred ashes. Now, it finally matched its records- Nonexistent. There was no evident regret on Jack's face, but the icy claw that gripped his insides seemed to constrict slightly.

With an indifferent, "Hmph," Jack turned and began to walk away. The walk quickly became a brisk jog. However, the 'brisk' jog was at about one-hundred miles per hour. Since the city was only about five miles away, Jack arrived at the outskirts, hardly out of breath. He smirked inwardly. He gained a kind of high every time he exceeded the human average. It played with his outward God-complex quite well.

Before he walked into the city, he stretched once more, expanding his arms and chest outwards, until he regained his original stance in a forceful exhale. He began walking at a human pace into the city. His face seemed to ripple, as if it was a reflection in an unstable pond. He grew shorter and his bony hips became even more feminine. His thighs widened slightly, as did his shoulders. His chest grew two medium-sized breasts, and his hair turned black, before pulling itself into a bun. His lips grew a dark red, and make-up appeared on his face. His clothes shifted into a female's suit and skirt. A small pair of square-rimmed glasses sat on his nose, as if they had been there the entire time, and his eyes flashed a dark green. His footsteps were more pronounced, as his high-heels clacked against the pavement, and he walked with feminine confidence. In his hand was a clutch that matched his outfit.

He moved purposefully, and people stayed out of his way. More than they would have a 'troubled teen.' The girlish lips twitched into a smirk at this thought. The expression seemed out of place on her serious face, so Jack brought his mouth back into the thin line it had been in. He walked a few more blocks, before turning sharply into a small cafe. The woman approached the counter, shooting the waiter an impatient glare. Quickly, he approached with a pen and pad.

"May I take your order, Miss?" he inquired dutifully.

"Yes, you may." spoke Jack in a womanly voice. "I would like a Samurai Chai Mate tea."

"Certainly," spoke the man, before disappearing into the kitchen. Soon, he returned, handing the woman her tea in a lidded Styrofoam cup. After the woman paid, she left quickly.

Jack walked out of the shop, and took a sip of his tea. He had to fight the urge to retch. The generally delicious substance was ice-cold, and subsequently, putrid. Without checking to see if anyone was watching, as this was a generally empty part of town, Jack stopped, removed the lid, and placed a finger over his tea. A minuscule fireball dropped into it like a sugar cube and the liquid began steaming immediately, and the female began walking again. Where he was going, he didn't know, although he certainly couldn't crawl back into his bed at the cabin, as he desired. No, earlier, Jack had decided that this was the time for action. What or why, he had no idea. Ambitionless, unplanned action- It sounded like madness. Then again, Jack had always considered himself insane.
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Re: Ashen Past, Molten Future [Alexander Meadows]

Post by Alexander Meadows on July 3rd 2013, 9:12 pm

A city is in the sky. A few few ago, it must have seemed unbelievable to all of the human population in the world. That changed for a select few individuals who had visited the city Aramayt in its final, shining moment as it was extinguished like a dying star. On the edge of the city were two men. One was dark skinned, with furious and glowing orange eyes that stared into the desperate, pleading gray eyes of another. His short, buzzed hair and deranged smile left his twisted expression without a mask-- this was the truest form of the man. This was all he had been left with from months spent in a void of utter, screaming blackness.

The other man was being dangled over the edge as he was held by the throat. His gray eyes teared up as his hands pried against the fingers gripping his throat under the jaw, the charred and ashy hand squeezing just enough to make breathing a misery. His short and spiky blonde hair wavered from the aura this man seemed to exert, and his tattered clothing told a wretched story. His toned and exposed form struggled against the fate that had been changed for 'the better' of the world. From Alexander's admittedly ignorant perspective, his world had been shattered. All that remained was a quickly dimming light that a special girl once exuded for him, and him alone.

"Everything is burning," the man stated with his twisted grin and dull tone. He didn't seem very excited at all. In fact, he sounded quite bored by the whole thing. "I had... a different notion of how our evening would go. A dinner, drinks, maybe catch a movie. But then when I got back I was like, 'no, I really just want to burn things'. Honestly, it will do this place some good."

Alexander struggled against the grasp and spat his raspy words. "Fuck you!"

"No. Ew, no. You have Tarsi for that." A slight chuckle. "Well, I guess 'had' covers the subject matter better, since I sent her sailing through the stratosphere and all." He tightened his grip, ensuring Alexander couldn't speak just so he might watch his friend choke on his own curses as though they were spoonfuls of castor oil. Much to his dismay, Alexander merely teared up and pulled hard on his fingers, failing to budge them from place. The grip tightened. "I won't kill you myself Alexander. I am your friend, even after all of this." Jericho's voice was almost apologetic through the chuckling. Alexander began to black out, still gasping for air and fighting for freedom. "I'll make sure you aren't conscious for the impact, though."

With that, the dark-skinned boy with charred hands released Alexander into the sky, sending him falling through the clouds as a giant drop of rain to meet inevitability head-on. Yes, there was a storm coming for the people below this evening. They would mistake it for snowfall at first, though the more clever would understand what it was: ash. Alexander would be its herald, bringing forth the white and gray blanket unto the earth as a mother tucking in a child. As he fell through the air wild and limp, he heard a voice creeping into the recesses of his mind. It dug its long, sharp fingers into that blackness that consumed him and whispered ominously, a herald of its own.

You are my chosen. Alexander arm started to burn and bubble up, a chain growing around his forearm and burning itself into his skin. The chain seemed to suddenly stop as only of its loose ends clanged in the ever increasing speed of the wind. The chain seemed to flash outwards and into a strange, ornate long-sword. I will lend you my power, Alexander Meadows. My champion will not perish from a mere fall from the wretched sky. As Alexander approached the town beneath him, a bright shell flashed around him, before vanishing and becoming a vaguely visible, if almost totally transparent sphere of many, many hexagons. A selfish barrier.

Alexander's barrier slammed into the streets, rocking the immediate area as though a missile had made impact upon one of the buildings nearby. A crater would be born in the middle of the streets from the impact. In its center-- a barely conscious man with a seemingly broken chain grafted into his arm, his skin burnt and molded around its many entrapping links that danced about his forward, and nary a sword to be found. For a person who had fallen from the sky, he would be in excellent shape. For a person who's just had his home destroyed and his lover killed, and everything he'd ever known or believed to be true about to be uprooted...

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
My Characters:
The Reject (SU-17b: Paragon)
Alexander Meadows (Soulless King)
Talis (Death Knight)

Alexander Meadows

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Re: Ashen Past, Molten Future [Alexander Meadows]

Post by Jack Hallcome on July 4th 2013, 12:45 am

Click, clack. Click, clack. The obnoxious sound of Jack's footsteps resounded throughout the alley he walked through. The almost in practically high heels made the stout woman look taller than she was. She stares straight ahead, even as she sipped her tea. Her eyes were like those of bugs, naturally seeming to bulge from the sockets. She blinked only occasionally, and almost furtively. As she rounded a building, merging back into the a larger walkway, something caught her eye.

Jack stopped instantly. He reached up and removed the glasses that his body donned, wiping them on his skirt. As he replaced them, he pursed his lips, puzzled to see that the spectacle he was observing was not a figment of his imagination. Other civilians were also gazing upwards, their faces contorted into emotions such as confusion, wonder, and fear. Jack simply looked with amusement; smugness. He overheard a child nearby exclaim, "Look, Daddy! It's black snow!"

Black snow. So, that's what they thought it was. Jack couldn't help but snicker. Out of habit of the mannerisms that accompanied his disguise, his hand girlishly shot up to cover his mouth. The green-eyed woman knew the substance that peppered the ground all too well. A flake landed on her outstretched finger, and she rubbed it with her thumb. A thin line of black residue marked her skin, as her eyes shone with interest. "If there is this much ash, there has to be a fire somewhere," reasoned the pyromaniac.

Suddenly, there was an earsplitting intrusion to the awe-stricken silence the city was under. It was as if a jet was flying only a few feet above them. Jack looked up, following the noise. No, that wasn't right. He shifted his gaze ahead of the noise, and saw a small fleck of light split the sky. It moved with speed impressive to even Jack, and disappeared behind a building. After a few seconds, the rumbling jet-noise ceased. There was a moment of silence, and them...

The explosion rocked the city on its foundations. Jack watched in amazement as the building the flash vanished behind crumbled immediately. It seemed to just disassemble itself, flying outwards from some invisible force. The ground shook, the tremors growing more violent as the shock wave approached Jack. He stumbled backwards as the wave slammed into him. It was as if a giant wall of unbreakable glass has just smashed into him. And just like that, it was gone, moving on behind him. Absentmindedly, the sociopath noted that he had crushed his tea in his effort to brace himself for the impact. He clicked his tongue annoyedly.

If were at all possible, the woman's eyes widened as she gazed out in front of her. The cityscape that had spanned just feet away from her a second ago was now flat and cracked. In the middle of the flat expanse was an enormous, deep crater. From the sides, broken pipes spewed water and other substances either high into the air or into the crater. Curiosity overcame Jack, and he began walking forward. On a whim, he morphed back into his original appearance, rippling once more as if a reflection in a body of water that had been assaulted with a stone. His face twisted back into its ever-present snarky condescension, his outfit faded back into the one he donned that morning, and his hair untied itself, grew a little, and brightened back into its standard orange hue. His mannerisms shifted as well. There was a bored gleam in his eyes as they flashed obsidian, and he walked  as if everywhere he stepped could now be considered hallowed ground. Of course, no one noticed. Everyone else was running away or unconscious.

Slowly, the orange-haired teen approached the crater. He gazed down into it, and his lips twisted into a half-grin of interest. Laying before him was a fairly disoriented blond-haired man. Jack's eyes shifted to the man's arm, where there seemed to be a snake coiling around it. However, at a second glance, the half-blood saw that it was a really a chain. It seemed to constrict and burn the man's arm, bonding with it forcefully. The observer's gaze slowly slithered back up the man's arm, and across his mostly exposed body; down to his wait; back up across his chest; and finally into his heavy-lidded eyes. "Not too shabby, but not exactly my type," was Jack's irrational side-thought, as he stepped forwards.

The shape-shifter hopped skillfully onto the slopes edge of the crater, sliding smoothly down until he stopped himself by placing his foot on the edge of a broken pipe right beside of the blond figure. The pipe spewed water off to the side in a wide arc, but was relatively quiet. Planning his introduction, Jack thoughtfully ran his tongue across his unnaturally sharp teeth.

"How lovely it is that you could drop in," started the male, his words dripping with vicious venom. "But, I'm afraid to say that I was walking through here, and you're in my way."

With that, Jack gave an impatient click of his tongue and stepped forwards, placing his foot on the man's chest. He pressed down with more force than he actually weighed, applying enough pressure to possibly fracture or break a rib on an average human. The man would most likely be in some significant pain. A sadistic, demented grin flashed across Jack's pale face.
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Re: Ashen Past, Molten Future [Alexander Meadows]

Post by Alexander Meadows on July 5th 2013, 9:22 am

Alexander twitched in the crater as a dead man trying to breath life back into his own body. Dizzy and in pain, the black voice from before clawed its way into his head and eased its slick, oily words into his ear, egging him on. Get up, it commanded him. Get up. His fingers twitched. Though he had survived the impact, the impact was still a brutal one. He felt as though his left arm was broken, and his legs didn't feel too different from that. He did try to obey the voice though his attempt at rising was wrought with transparent desperation and failure. He was too injured to move. Kinetic energy was a bitch.

He fell back limply into the earth, the voice once more ringing out to him. Pathetic, it mocked. On his right arm, he felt as though something was twisting, burning and weakly he rolled his head to face that side. His eyes came into focus on a red-hot chain that moved and coiled around his arm and he started to panic, unable to understand what was happening. He couldn't move. He body was held fast. What was it? Why was he held firm? All at once, he understood: fear.  He was paralyzed by the anxiety that coursed through his body. He rolled his head back up and tried to yell but his chest was too heavy. Again he tried, but only a whimper escaped his lips. Then, his open eyes fell upon a tuft of orange hair.

The hair was almost neon in coloration, so ostentatiously bright that he almost had to avert his eyes from it. This rather remarkable color of fur heralded a sick grin, black eyes, sharp teeth, and a foot upon Alexander's chest. The boy started to apply pressure, and Alexander's inhibition towards screaming was suddenly removed as a great pain engulfed his heart. Alexander's chained arm flung up and with it he pulled desperately, as a bright light started to glow from his body. Alexander suddenly emitted a violent flash of blinding light, and from his hand a pulse of energy strong enough to stagger his attacker burst forward at the boys chest. This should have been enough to get Alexander time, and he started to crawl away desperately. Succumb to fury, the voice cooed. Let my fury grow and nourish your broken body.

It wasn't so hard to do. Alexander was afraid. He was frustrated. He was also most certainly angry. He didn't know where he was, he was barely conscious and already trying to crawl away for his life. To add insult to injury his friends were dead, and that was not to mention that Tarsi had just been killed in possibly one of the cruelest of ways. It could not stand. Rage flooded his body, and he felt his wounds start to lose their pain. Indeed, the injuries felt farther and farther away with each passing moment. He rose up, staggering to his feet to face the foe before him as anger coursed about his veins. "Why!?" This was all he could think to shout at the moment. The man's rather inhospitable behaviour was new to him, and it helped propel his anger forward.

Of other note-- the crater they were in. Keeping eyes locked on the orange hair before him Alexander's gaze briefly shifted to look at his surroundings. These buildings, that sky-- they weren't of his city. The buildings were all he noticed initially, still too deep in the crater to make note of cars or street lights. His fist clenching, the boy spat out more words that dripped with Venom. "Where am I? I don't know this part of the city!" His question very quickly warped into a demand under the heat of the situation, and Alexander was almost totally without his composure.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
My Characters:
The Reject (SU-17b: Paragon)
Alexander Meadows (Soulless King)
Talis (Death Knight)

Alexander Meadows

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Re: Ashen Past, Molten Future [Alexander Meadows]

Post by Jack Hallcome on July 5th 2013, 4:50 pm

As the orange-haired sadist applied pressure to the downed man, there was a satisfying crunching noise. The man's screams of agony drew a sick grin from Jack. An involuntary exhale of bliss escaped his thin, pink lips, and his eyes narrowed in pleasure. Distracted by the high that was brought by having the man squirm underneath his foot, the pyromaniac was caught off guard by the quick flash of light that slammed against his chest.

The force was akin to being shoved, and the male was already uncentered. He staggered back, his arms flailing wildly, as the light enveloped his vision. He tripped over his own feet, and fell on his bottom. Quickly, his face flushing red from embarrassment, Jack rolled back onto his shoulders, before kicking with both of his feet. Simultaneously, he threw his shoulders back, and the combined actions lifted him off the ground. He landed smoothly on his feet and pivoted. He turned so that his shoulder was towards the man, and he turned his head to look in that direction just as his vision cleared. His hands were at his side, but his palms were facing the blond.

Jack's eyebrows knitted in confusion as the blotches in his vision faded. The man, whom Jack had just witnessed squirming and injured on the ground was rising to his feet. Repressing the urge to just shove him back down, the obsidian-eyed male simply ran his tongue across his overly sharp teeth. His expression was mildly interested, with a dash of condescension. His lips tightened into his signature smirk as the blond man demanded answers to some odd questions. He clearly didn't know where he was. The teen almost cared enough to ask where the newcomer had fallen from. Of course, he was in a more snarky mood, and had already gotten a small taste of the man squirming beneath him. The orange-haired adolescence craved for more control over the figure before him. Jack wanted to toy with him; to have the man's toned, beaten, and battered body squirm beneath  him once more. Images such as these usually remained figments of his twisted imagination. However, looking upon the distraught, vulnerable man before him, Jack hungered to make his fantasies become a reality.

There was more than a hint of patronization in his tone as he spoke. His eyes flashed dangerously and his palms heated. If you looked close enough, you could see a translucent haze around them. His sharp teeth were flaunted by the sadistic grin he wore, and he took a small step forwards, looking over his own shoulder at the man. Jack's words flowed over his sharp tongue, poisoning the air with condescension. "Awe," he said, relishing in playing on the man's already disheveled emotions. "Are you lost?"
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Re: Ashen Past, Molten Future [Alexander Meadows]

Post by Alexander Meadows on July 6th 2013, 10:35 am

The young boy before him seemed completely unfazed by the events that had already unfolded. The flash of light, the impact... Alexander was scared. He didn't know he could do that. He didn't know why he could do that. He held his composure almost as a king over his subjects, his arrogance palpable in the air the fluttered from his breath. He large teeth formed a sinister smile that seemed to nip at Alexander's heels, and every impulse in his body was telling him one thing: run. But to where? Anywhere would do, just not here.

The man's voice reached out to him, cradling his ears in mock concern. Alexander offered no verbal response instead choosing turn on his heel, foregoing anger in favor of survival as he attempted to run away. The boy behind him seemed to exude an aura of malice and hatred the likes of which rivaled the very person who had put him into this predicament in the first place. Alexander bolted to the crater's edge and scrambled up the side, attempting to escape as he latched his hands onto pipes and slammed his feet unto to stone, praying they could bear his weight without any give as well as bear his fear without failure. If either he or his emotions dropped, he would be damned to deal with the strange teenager behind him.

Normally, Alexander wouldn't have been so frightened of a child. Alexander himself has surpassed his teen years even if only recently. Alexander was an adult, if even barely able to be considered one. What made him so frightened of the boy that waited in the crater like some sort of trap? He couldn't direct his fear, is all there was. Still disoriented, still confused and with adrenaline starting to surge through his body Alexander was taking much longer than a normal person would have to climb despite his *just* greater strength and speed. His feet kicked and hands grasped erratically at the wall of cement and metal and he pulled himself over the edge, placing his hands firmly upon the blacktop and pushing himself up to his knees into a wall of carnage.

Alexander's eyes had long been open, but now that fear that clouded his vision and judgement pulled itself aside as a grand curtain and revealed that Alexander world had rocked so hard on its axis that it had permanently shifted. One, long road stretched out before him for what seemed like infinity. Above him clouds crowded the sun and angrily they seemed to gloss over with a gray and black coloration as if to further add to Alexander's personal contention. Even more disturbing were entire lines of metal abominations of varying colors that lined the road, the ones closer to the crater either damaged badly or partially scorched. The closest two to the crater were almost entirely crushed.

Alexander sat there on his shins and stared with pure exasperation at the world before him, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. All he could repeat was a single safety phrase, an idea he could cling to while the reality around him disengaged itself from his perceptions. "What the hell is happening to me?" Behind him, certainty. That boy was twisted, there was no doubting it. But that certainty was safer than what lie before him. In the endless road that crawled on between countless small buildings all he could see was possibility, and his bones shivered at the prospect of limitless destinies slowly whittling themselves down to one remaining point of finality.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
My Characters:
The Reject (SU-17b: Paragon)
Alexander Meadows (Soulless King)
Talis (Death Knight)

Alexander Meadows

Quote : "Insert Quote from Character Here" or etc.

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Online
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Male
Number of posts : 18
Registration date : 2013-06-19
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Re: Ashen Past, Molten Future [Alexander Meadows]

Post by Jack Hallcome on July 8th 2013, 11:50 am

Jack's thin, dark eyebrow arched slightly as the man bolted. The fearful way in which he scrambled up the crater earned a delighted chuckle from the sadist. He slowly walked forwards after the blond, the dry dust of the crater trailing in wisps from the ground as Jack moved, being carried away by the same wind that made the teen's bright orange hair whip wildly.

The pyromaniac stopped just short of where the crater started a steep incline. A wicked smirk slowly slithered across his lips, maliciously coiling around his expression and contorting his features into condescension. Fear was overcoming the man, and he scrambled up the crater wildly- Almost blindly. Jack had half a mind to torch him and give the blond a little incentive to gain a little more grace.

Finally, as the disoriented male vanished over the edge of the crater, Jack bounded forwards. He had already planned out his movements, picking out different pipes, rocks, and other protrusions to aid him. Gracefully and speedily, he scaled the crater, and was making his final leap over the edge just in time to hear an utterance from the man.

The teen looked down to find the newcomer on his knees. He couldn't see his face, but judging from the choked sound of his voice, Jack gleefully imagined that it would have been masked in agony. He trembled, obviously in shock. Although, in response to what, Jack had no clue. The teen slowly approached, a sadistic grin spreading across his face. He halted just behind the blond and clasped a firm hand on his shoulder that was more threatening than concerning.

"Poor thing," said Jack, unable to hide the glee in his voice that melded so vibrantly with the poisonous condescension, sarcasm, and mock concern he poured into every word. He continued, a bright spark of demented relish in his obsidian eyes. "Are you okay? You look shaken."
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Re: Ashen Past, Molten Future [Alexander Meadows]

Post by Alexander Meadows on July 11th 2013, 1:21 pm

Behind Alexander's deadened perceptions the skittering of rock and slight reverberation from the pipes would have sounded an alarm that it was time to counter, to run-- something. It was time for Alexander to make his escape and try to find a safe place and bide his time while he tried to figure himself out. Instead, the hand of death clasped its fingers upon its shoulder and tugged at what he believed to be his soul, attempting to rend his mind from its corporeal form and loosen the little grasp he had on reality still so that he would fall.

He instinctively jumped from surprise once the icy grip laid its touch to bear upon him and was on his feet in an instant, tattered shoes flopping from their seems as he whirled around and stepped back with his eyes burning with distrust and hate. "The hell is wrong with you!?" This boy was sick in the mind and soul, hungry for fulfillment of his own dark desires. The chain that hung grafted to Alexander's arm let out a rattle as its end glowed and shook briefly beyond Alexander's notice. His focus was elsewhere, on the individual in front of him.

"Just back off!" A warning to the boy that Alexander's did not realize would be practically worthless. Even if the boy could be made afraid of a man clearly not in a right state of mind, what then? The first person that Alexander had met on the surface, and indeed the only person who might believe he had fallen from the sky seemed to take delight in suffering. The problem posed was now one of guidance, and Alexander found himself against a psychopathic teenager without a care in the world. Some sensibility was starting to return-- this guy was just a teenager. Alexander was getting his mental faculties back, however impaired they might be. He stopped panicking just enough to pull himself together and stand up straight, ceasing his slouch and drawing himself up to his full height. "Get the fuck away from me," He bellowed at the kid, "I don't have time for you or this whatever-the-fuck is happening!"

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My Characters:
The Reject (SU-17b: Paragon)
Alexander Meadows (Soulless King)
Talis (Death Knight)

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Re: Ashen Past, Molten Future [Alexander Meadows]

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