the reaper and the student - alistair

[Kye Maverick Abrion]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: #2e2e2e; width:430px; height:550px; padding:0px;] in the end born a saint, but with every sin i still wanna be holy. i will live again. who we are isn't how we live, we are more than our bodies. if i fall, i will rise back up and relive my glory OUTFIT: clicky | TAGGED: alistair | WORDS: 625 The only sound was the scratching of the charcoals over the thick paper of the notebook propped on the knees of the solemn asian male. He shifted his grip on the pencil, lightly smuging his finger over the water in an attempt to lighten it, even barely applying the charcoals, sometimes it was just to dark. He looked back up at the landscape in front of him as he was situated on the edge of the bank of the lake. Okay, so he was using his imagination a little, the trees weren't in bloom, and the grass wasn't florishing... but he'd never seen the lakeside in the spring. He moved his thumb over the painting once more, smuging it just a little more before he reverted his hold on the pencil to strengthen the darkness of the shoreline. It was peaceful here. A place where he didn't have to worry about being yelled at by his father. He sat up, eyes deftly scanning the glassy surface of the water. It really was beautiful, even as cold as it was in the middle of December. He looked back down at the drawing on his lap. It really didn't do the real landscape justice. It was so very obviously artificial. There was no life to it. He hated that. He shook his head slightly and reached up, gently pulling the paper free from the binding of the book and wadded it up lightly and set it beside him. He'd dispose of it later. He sighed as he stared at the now blank sheet of paper in front of him. Well, with his sketch of the landscape ruined, he started working on a small sketch of a deer in a meadow, though being as he'd never actually seen a real life deer, it was difficult, going off of memories of something he saw on television on the few occasions that he'd been able to watch it in peace. He paused a moment as the cold wind blew in from the lake. He shivered slightly before realizing that the drawing of the landscape was being blown away from him. "Shit," he cursed softly, getting quickly to his feet, closing the sketchbook and shifting his charcoals to the same hand as he reached out, attempting to capture the paper which seemed to be playing a game of cat and mouse with him. It blew across the faded grass faster than Kye could move in his boots, though it was caught by someone else as he rushed forward. He slowed himself, wincing internally as he realized that the male was none-other-than the art teacher at the high school. Fantastic. All he needed was for someone else to tell him his sketch sucked. "My apologies," Kye stated simply, his voice sounding a little bland, even to himself, his face betraying not a sign of irritation, or even anything else. He stopped a few fit in front of the other male, watching him silently before he held out his moment. "May I have my drawing? It wasn't exactly my intention to litter..." he stated softly, voice still the same monotonous tone. He hoped that the other male would just leave it at that. Kye wasn't exactly the kind of person who spoke up in class, or really did much of anything. He didn't ask questions, he didn't even really answer questions. He couldn't remember, was this the first time he'd ever even spoken to the other male? He remembered being called on in class and simply staring at the other male until he asked the question of someone else. He wasn't sure about anytime else that he may have spoken to the male. How interesting. DATE: December 15 - 3:00 PM NOTES:

this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0.

[Alistair Therin Redcliffe]

Ah, winter weather. Alistair couldnt help but love it. Maybe because he'd been born in winter? There was just something about the sharp bite of cold wind on your cheeks and the breeze ruffling your hair that made him smile. Not to mention all the other wonderful things that cold weather usually brought... crackling fires, holiday cheer, warm clothing, curling beneath soft blankets, hot chocolates and coffee drinks with peppermint twists. It was glorious. And the nature settings changed as well, beautiful in its own way. One of the things he was out doing today was photographing said natures beauty. He moved around the lake, black messenger bag on his shoulder and a plastic shopping bag of leaves and sticks in one hand, the other holding his digital camera. As he walked, he snapped a picture here and there of random things. A cluster of leaves, an acorn clinging to a branch, the reeds waving in the breeze. The lake itself, with nearly-bare trees gaurding its edges.

When he wasnt taking photos, he was collecting random bits of nature to take back with him, tossing them into the shopping bag. Leaves, acorns, berries, twigs... even a few feather's he'd found. Hopefully the bird still lived, wherever it was. Could animals die in Haven? He wasnt sure. In any case, the bag of 'goodies' and the photos should be a hit at his next art class. He remembered his own teacher doing something similiar to what he had planned, and how much fun it had been. It was always a pleasing experience, stretching ones imagination. And wasnt that one of Art's key elements? Imagination?

He knelt down to snap a photo of an old stump when the wind blew something against his foot, getting his attention. Looking down, he noticed a bit of paper, and pocketed his camera to pick it up. The wing had opened the crumpled ball a bit, revealing a pice of a drawing inside, and the art teacher was too curious to resist opening it further, trying to smooth the edges without smudging what was obviously charcoal. "Well, hello there..." He murmered, tilting his head. Someone had sketched the lake... only instead of bare branches, they'd tried to imagine a more spring-ish setting. It was rather nice. So why was it so crumpled?


A voice drew his attention, and he stood up to meet the incomer, setting his bags on the ground. Ah, one of his students! Alistair offered a warm smile, holding out his free hand to offer a handshake. "Ah, Mr. Abrion. Good to see you out practising, kid. You might want to be more careful with your work though, this wind can destroy a bit of paper quickly, and this sketch is too nice to end up drenched in the lake or decorating some birds nest."

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CURRENTMOOD:: optimistic
POSTTAGGEDFOR:: Kye
CHARACTEROUTFIT:: Fabulous
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[Kye Maverick Abrion]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: #2e2e2e; width:430px; height:550px; padding:0px;] in the end born a saint, but with every sin i still wanna be holy. i will live again. who we are isn't how we live, we are more than our bodies. if i fall, i will rise back up and relive my glory OUTFIT: clicky | TAGGED: alistair | WORDS: 502 Kye slowly tucked his sketchbook under his arm and stuck his free hand into the pocket of his coat as he slowly walked the final stretch towards the older male. He slowly pulled his hand from his pocket, gently taking the other male's hand as well before releasing it and tucking his hand back into his pocket. He lowered his gaze ever-so-slightly as the other stated that it was good to see him out practicing. "I'm not a kid," he replied softly, still not meeting the other's eyes as he stood there. He shrugged slightly at the other's statement that he should be more careful with his work. "If I had intended to keep it, sir, I would have left it in my sketch book," he stated simply, his voice still given in the same even tone. The sketchbook that he carried wasn't the sketchbook that he carried when he was at school, this one was more worn, as if he had posessed it for far longer than his short time in New Haven so far. He raised his gaze slowly at this point. "It's not that great," he stated matter-of-factly as he watched the older male carefully. He shifted his weight ever-so-slightly and extended his free hand once more. "May I have it back so that I can dispose of it?" he asked softly, watching the other male's reaction. He wasn't exactly the type that took well to compliments. It wasn't something he was familiar with. He was sure that the male just must have been attempting to make him feel better about the shoddy craftsmanship that he had put into that sketch. He wasn't entirely sure why the Reaper was doing so, but he didn't know all that much about Reapers anyway. He only knew that he was supposed to help those who came to New Haven. He wasn't entirely sure why he was being given a second chance, he didn't really need a second chance. He'd willingly given up his first chance, he shouldn't have been given a second chance. He wondered vaguely why the Reaper was out near Truman Lake, though. He didn't appear to be drawing or anything like that. He shifted his sketchbook himself as he watched the other male. "What brings you to the lakeside, sir?" he asked softly, attempting to bridge the silence that seemed to be growing. He wasn't exactly all that great with social situations, he tended to keep to himself. Those whom he did hang out with tended to approach him first and were much more vocal. He could sit and listen. Like with Jasey who was rather exuberant herself. Or Van. Van was a lot like Jasey. And then there was Ryan. Ryan was an altogether different kind of company, he was big on talking about art too, though his art was much different. His was the art of tattooing instead of drawing or sketching the way that Kye was. DATE: December 15 - 3:00 PM NOTES:

this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0.

[Alistair Therin Redcliffe]

Such a hesitant handshake. This poor boy was always so shy and distant, even in class. Alistair could tell there was something wrong, but he couldnt force the boy to tell him anything. Kye would have to come to him on his own. Confrontation about his attitude would only make the younger man withdraw further.

The boys words about his drawing drew Alistairs attention away from his emotional distance issues and back to the paper in his hands, frowning. "Dispose of it? Why in the world would you want to dispose of it? Its a good piece. Especially considering you drew it from imaginatioin while stareing at a far more desolate landscape. It would certainly earn high marks in my class, Mr. Abrion. And even if you really think it not your best, you could still learn from it." He smoothed the paper a little more, peering at it. "The shadowing, the perspective.... truely, its a good sketch."

Still, it did belong to the boy. Could he give it up, knowing it would be destroyed? How sad that this lad didnt realize his talent. Then the boy asked about his purpose here at the lake, and Alistair allowed the subject change, keeping the drawing in his hands. "Actually, what i'm doing here involves imagination. Its a key element in art, being able to see past whats in front of you, and imagine something better."

He picked up the plastic bag of sticks and other oddities in his free hand, holding it out for Kye to see. "This is all for the next class. Some of what I gather will be a still life for you guys to paint. The rest of it will be the materials you'll use to paint with." He smiled, pulling out a twig. "Instead of brushes or pencils, you'll dip the sticks and leaves in paint, and practice with different strokes and textures until you find something you'll like. then you'll paint the still life, or a landscape of the lake. I'm taking a few pictures with my camera to get printed, to inspire the ones who'd like to try the landscape. What do you think?" He tilted his head slightly, watching the boy. "Actually, I could use some help gathering things... if you'd like... "

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CURRENTMOOD:: optimistic
POSTTAGGEDFOR:: Kye
CHARACTEROUTFIT:: Fabulous
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[Kye Maverick Abrion]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: #2e2e2e; width:430px; height:550px; padding:0px;] in the end born a saint, but with every sin i still wanna be holy. i will live again. who we are isn't how we live, we are more than our bodies. if i fall, i will rise back up and relive my glory OUTFIT: clicky | TAGGED: alistair | WORDS: 717 Kye retracted his hand slowly, pushing it back into his pocket once more. He watched as the other male glanced down at the drawing in his grasp and he tilted his head slightly as the other asked why he would dispose of it because itw as a good piece. Kye's brows furrowed ever-so-slightly before he regained control over himself. No, the male was probably just being nice. He didn't actually think the piece was all that good, he couldn't possibly. The shading was off, the dimensions were sketchy at best, and the water wasn't nearly rippley enough. "I would dispose of it because it is less than perfect," he replied softly, stepping a little closer to the other male as he stated that it would have earned high marks in his class. He shook his head as the other stated that the shadowing and perspectives were good. "The shading is off... see here?" he gestured towards the edge of the lake with one finger. "And the dimensions of the trees? They're disproportionate to the reeds and grasses," he stated evenly before pulling away. He shrugged slightly before the other stated that he was doing something for class. He gave a small nod in understanding before the other stated the lesson he was planning was about imagination and being able to see past what was in front of him. Was that not what he'd been attempting with the landscape? He had a feeling that class was not going to go over all that well for him. He shook hi shead slightly before the other was picking up a bag of leaves and sticks. He slowly looked back up at the older male. This was his collection? And paint. He couldn't help the slight nose wrinkle at the thought. he wasn't all that good with paint. His chosen medium would always be charcoals. He shook his head slightly. Painting with leaves? With sticks? The man was absolutely insane. He looked over at the other, watching him carefully. "And if we decide we don't like any of these... other options?" he asked simply, watching him carefully, wondering if he could just go back to using a brush instead of using a stick to paint with. He wasn't entirely pleased with that entire notion. He looked back at the other as he stated something about his camera. Taking pictures of the landscape so that the other students could be inspired. They needed photography for that? But then the other was stating that he could use some help gathering things if he would help him. Kye tilted his head ever so slightly before pulling his hand from his pocket and taking the bag that was offered to him. He sighed, turning and making his way back across the grass at this point as the male told him he was hoping to get some cattails. He stopped on the edge of the lake before gently setting his sketchbook down on the rock he himself had been sitting on and leaned out, attempting to pull the cattails towards him so that he could break off the stalks and place them into the bag. Unfortunately, his boots weren't exactly made for hovering on the cusp of the shoreline of a lake, and the wet ground gave beneath him. He cried out in surprise as he was lurched forward and into the water. Holy shit that was cold. He immidiately pushed himself back to the surface, breaking the clear water and gasping for air. "Damnit," he cursed himself as he swam his way back to the short until he could touch the ground on the bottom of the lake and walked back up to the shore. At least he'd had the forethought to set his sketchbook down so it didn't go into the water with him. His eyes widened. He reached hurriedly into the pocket of his coat. Oh no. His charcoals were ruined. And his cashmere sweater probably wasn't going to survive this very well. He dropped the bag he was still holding onto the ground. "Sir, I think... I think I'm going to go home now..." he stated softly, moving over to grab his sketchbook and moved away. DATE: December 15 - 3:00 PM NOTES:

this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0.

[Alistair Therin Redcliffe]

"Perfection is overrated, Mr. Abrion. Nothing in life in perfect... not you, not I, not even nature itself. And just because one or two things arent exactly as you believe they should be doesnt mean you should simply toss something aside. Imagine if Picasso had done that, Hm?" He chastised his student with a smile. Kye was a good kid, really, but Alistair had noticed he was far too critical of himself sometimes. When the other male seemed to drop the subject, Alistair allowed it, chuckling at his students obvious distress over the upcoming class assignment.

"If you do not like the materials, then I imagine you wouldnt reach for them again. But for this one assignment, you still have to use them. Dont look so displeased, champ. Its supposed to be a -fun- class. You arent going to be graded on the overall picture, but on the effort made to follow the guidelines. Think... how do you suppose people painted before they could go out and buy a pack of brushes from the store? The Indians, for example. Sticks and bits of nature where all they had to apply their homemade paints, besides using their own hands. At least until someone thought to tie a bit of animal hair to a stick, and walaa, the paintbrush was born. Why, even those charcoals I've noticed you prefer came about much the same way... people finding bits of stick in old firepits and realizing they could draw with the charred end. Just try it, hm? Its only one class. I did this same assignment with my class back in Florida around Thanksgiving, you know, and they loved it. that was right before... before..."

Before he'd been murdered. His eyes showed a flash of pain before he cleared his throat, putting such memories behind him. "well, before I came here." Then Kye was sighing and taking his spare bag, and Alistair put on a smile for the boy. "Thanks. I appreciate the help. I'd offer a little extra credit, but since you've already got the top grade I dont think you need it much..." Chuckling, he picked up his own bag, secretly tucking Kye's crumpled picture away in his messenger bag. Or Man-purse. Whatever you wanted to call it. When Kye headed for the cattails, he turned his back and proceeded to pick up more twigs of varrying lengths and shapes, not paying much attention. Until he heard the splash.

"KYE!" Abandoning propriety, Alistair yelled out for the boy, turning and dropping his own bag as he dashed for the water in time to see the poor boy emerge from the lake, soaked and a little muddy. He winced, removing his messenger bag and setting it down so he could unzip his hoodie and remove it, ignoring the bite of winter against his own now bared skin. "Shit, i'm so sorry, I should have gotten the blasted tails myself, I didnt even think... Here..." He draped his hoodie around Kye's shoulders to keep the wind from getting to his wet clothes and icing them over, not careing if he got mud on himself or the sweatshirt. He took Kye's chin gently in hand, tilting his face towards him as he pulled a few waterlogged leaves from the boys hair, concern clear in his eyes. "Are you alright? You didnt twist your ankle or hit your head did you?"

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CURRENTMOOD:: guilty
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CHARACTEROUTFIT:: Fabulous
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[Kye Maverick Abrion]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: #2e2e2e; width:430px; height:550px; padding:0px;] in the end born a saint, but with every sin i still wanna be holy. i will live again. who we are isn't how we live, we are more than our bodies. if i fall, i will rise back up and relive my glory OUTFIT: clicky | TAGGED: alistair | WORDS: 608 Kye looked over at his art teacher as the other male stated that perfection was overrated. "Perhaps to you, sir. But I was raised with the idea that perfection can be acheived if one works hard enough." And he had been working for it his entire life. It had, essentially, been part of why he'd decided to kill himself. He had come to the conclusion that he would never be able to acheive perfection. When he'd awoken here, he had simply taken it as the statement from God that he could acheive it... he just hadn't gotten there quite yet. He shrugged slightly at the question regarding Picasso. He didn't really know or care much about what Picasso would have become had he strived for perfection instead of settling. Then again, perhaps Picasso had acheived his own level of perfection. It was different for everyone. He had simply not reached his level yet. Though when the other stated that they would still have to use the materials for the assignment, Kye shook his head slightly. "I think I'm going to be sick on Monday," he replied simply, shaking his head slightly. Why had he be placed in the art class again? Oh, right, 'cause his Reaper had noticed his sketchbook was among those things that he'd wanted brought to New Haven. He looked back at the other male as he was asked how he thought people painted before they could go out and buy a pack of brushes. "Truthfully, I didn't put much thought into it, sir. And that was then. This is now. I don't like painting period actually... to messy." Even charcoals were messy, but they created less of a mess than paint. He hated paint. With a passion. It got all over the place, and now that they weren't using brushes? Yes. It was going to be a very messy day. He was already feeling the effects of a slight bug, he could tell. The older male seemed to enjoy flattery. Kye knew he likely did not have the top grade. He didn't even have an A plus. Only an A. Did they give out pluses and minuses at the school? He wasn't sure. He much preferred his older school which gave number grades rather than letter grades. Of course, then he was wet. And cold. And wet. And the male was fussing over him. "I'm perfectly fine," he stated in the same monotonous tone that he had carried throughout the conversation since their meeting. He looked up, however, as there was suddenly a hoodie draped over him. Oh how repulsive. That totally clashed with everything he was wearing. He pulled it off and draped it over the male's shoulder. "Thank you, but you need that. You haven't even got any sleeves," he replied softly. But then the male was actually touching him and his entire body tensed. He didn't move as the other pulled leaves from his hair and asked if he was alright. "I'm fine, sir. I didn't twist my ankle or hit my head. But if you please sir, I would like to go home and change," he said, cautiously pulling from the grip that the other male had on his chin and he turned, picking up his worn out sketch book and moved towards the street so that he could head back into town and get out of the wet clothes. He was proud of himself that he wasn't yet shivering and that he'd kept his voice level and not trembling. He was still tense as he walked away, though now that the male wasn't touching him, he was slowly relaxing once again. DATE: December 15 - 3:00 PM NOTES:

this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0.

[Alistair Therin Redcliffe]

The boy was acting strangley, even for him. He was getting so stiff, too.. probably fighting off trembles, no doubt. The poor little thing was soaked, after all, and no doubt freezing. He spread his jacket over the boys shoulders again, giving him a firm Teacher's Glare. "I am not the one who fell in the lake, Mr. Abrion. You will wear the jacket. That is not a request." he fought back shivers of his own at the cold air, but gentled the glare he had leveled at the boy, offering a small smile as he put an arm around Kye's shoulders and steered him back towards the town, away from the city. "You fell in helping me for class... its my responsibility to make sure you are alright. Come on, I'll walk you home. If I remember your school files, you live with Principal Garen, right? I should be heading in the right direction..."

He gave the boys shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they walked, trying to talk to him and keep him alert. He was from Florida originally, so he didnt know all that much about cold weather or its effects. Could Kye catch hypothermia or frostbite from this? Heaven forbid... he was such a good kid, and it would be all Alistairs fault. He had to make sure the boy was taken care of. "I know you're probably freezing, son, but stay with me... we'll get you home and out of those wet clothes, and you'll be all warmed up in no time. Then I'll make sure you've got something warm inside you and call Mr. Garen to let him know what happened. I dont know if he'll want you to get checked out at the hospital or not..." He looked over at the boy, giving a sympathetic smile as he noticed the mud from the pond splattered on his pants and in his hair. "Hmm. You'll probably want to wash up, too. A nice warm shower should make you feel better."

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CURRENTMOOD:: guilty
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CHARACTEROUTFIT:: Fabulous
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[Kye Maverick Abrion]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: #2e2e2e; width:430px; height:550px; padding:0px;] in the end born a saint, but with every sin i still wanna be holy. i will live again. who we are isn't how we live, we are more than our bodies. if i fall, i will rise back up and relive my glory OUTFIT: clicky | TAGGED: alistair | WORDS: 648 Kye tensed once again as the other male actually continued after him and placed the jacket over him once more and was gripping his shoulders, actually steering him back towards his own house. What, did the Reaper think that he couldn't remember where he lived? He didn't like the weight of the other's arm on his shoulders, and kept his gaze lowered to the ground. Why was he being like this? Couldn't he just leave him alone? He didn't want the attention, he didn't want to be touched. Was it happening all over again? Was this male intending to use him? Of course he was. It wasn't like he was good for much else. That was what the flattery was for. Kye could see it now, the Reaper had only wanted to make him feel appreciated. To make him feel worth something so that he wouldn't put up as big of a fight as one would normally expect. But he was a teacher, Kye couldn't turn him down, could he? He wouldn't be rude. Perhaps if he asked nicely? But then that never worked with his father. It had only made his father more cross. How dare he not want to engage in physical activities? Like he was insulting him. He fought back the urge to cringe at the memory of his father striking him in anger. He closed his eyes tightly before he heard his teacher speaking once more, telling him to stay with him. Get him home... and out of his clothes... and something warm inside of him. He clenched his teeth to keep from crying out at the mere thought of it. No, he didn't want it. No, no, no. He fought off his urge to jerk away from the other male and run, but what good would it do? The Reaper knew where he lived. He clutched his sketchpad to his chest a little tighter, knuckles turning white with the deathgrip he had on his one and only prized possession. Surely Garen wouldn't condone this? Whoa, wait. Hospital? He stopped in his tracks. "I'm not going to a hospital," he replied firmly. "I'm perfectly fine." And he was proud of how level he kept his voice, how steady he was. He pushed forward, moving down the street of where he lived. He pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the door. Could he just tell the teacher to leave now? "T-thank you for w-walking me here," he stated, moving into the house, though he felt the other male move in behind him and close the door before he could even turn. He didn't have a choice then, did he? He closed his eyes, resigning himself. He gently set his sketchbook down, shedding the Reaper's jacket, he then pulled off his own coat, hanging it by the door. He steeled himself, turning towards the stairs and reaching down, pulling his shirt up and over his head, exposing his pale torso which was covered in scars. He paused on the stairs, looking over at the Reaper at this point. "What do you want me to do?" he asked softly, watching the other male. The house was considerably warmer, but his form was still damp, still cold. He fought the urge to start trembling as he watched the older male. No, he didn't want it. He didn't want it. Please no. How could he convey that which he did not want without incurring the other's wrath? He didn't want to be hit. Didn't want to be beaten again. Please... anything but this. His inner turmoil was lost on any who did not know him. His face remained stoic, his voice ever-steady. Hiding his unwillingness, his distrust, his distaste. He was trapped, and he knew it. Best not to make a fuss. DATE: December 15 - 3:00 PM NOTES:

this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0.

[Alistair Therin Redcliffe]

Well that was an extreme reaction to a possible doctors visit. Whst was that all about? Did Kye maybe die at a hospital, back in the mortal world? Was he afriad of needles? Maybe he'd had a bad experience with a doctor? Whatever the case might be, the thought of maybne having to go to the hospital certainly put more pep in his step. Soon enough they were inside. "Well, we'd better make sure you dont get sick then, so you wont have to go."

Then Kye was removing his shirt, and Alistair tried to politetly look away... but found himself unable to do so. The poor boy was covered with scars. Old, true, but clear. What did this poor boy go through back before Haven? Alistair stared at him sadly for a few moments, lips parted slightly in shock. Two long scars along the inside of the boys arms drew his eyes, and he swallowed hard. Seems Kye hadnt died in a hospital after all. Poor sweet kid. What monster could have driven this bright boy to such a gruesome death? Even when he'd been a kid himself, sure no one wanted him and ready to exit the world on his own terms, he'd never considered slitting his wrists. The pain, the slow waiting, growing cold.... Alistair had planned on overdosing on something in all his plans.

He moved closer, shaking his head slightly to clear it and gently touching Kye's shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. He moved around the boy carefully, checking for any new scars or bruises. "You are sure you arent hurt, right? I... lord, son, you're still shivering. Go to the bathroom and get out of those wet pants. A warm shower should help you feel better. When you're nice and dry, come back and I'll have that something warm waiting for you." He gave a shaky smile, gently patting Kye's back. "I should also probsbly call Garen... you seem alright, but we should still let him know whats going on. Do you need anything else?"

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CURRENTMOOD:: guilty
POSTTAGGEDFOR:: Kye
CHARACTEROUTFIT:: Fabulous
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[Garen Quintin Almeric]

E v e r y b o d y hurts some days
It's okay to be a f r a i d
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Everybody h u r t s , everybody screams
E v e r y b o d y feels this way

Garen was out driving, it was rare for him to drive since he didn’t really start driving until he was in New Haven. He had a few things to do today like stop at the school and grab some paper work, then go to the grocery store, having two teens in the house and a brother who was built like a fortress was not exactly easy on the grocery bill. He pulled into the high school and got out of the car, he pulled his jacket on over his sweater and walked through the parking lot over to the doors. He unlocked the doors and walked into the school and headed towards his office content in the fact that he was just going to be in and out of the school with in five minutes. He walked into his office and over to his desk and grabbed his notebook that he had forgotten to grab during the week.

He looked around the room before closing the door and heading back out to the parking lot. He locked the door behind him and walked to the car and slid into the driver’s seat. He sat the notebook down on the passenger seat and turned the radio on, Christmas songs were playing and he was singing along with them as he drove out of the parking lot and onto the street. He sang and tapped his hands on the steering wheel while he drove to the grocery store. He pulled into the grocery store and found a parking spot before grabbing his list in the console and exiting out of the car.

-time skip-

Garen exited the grocery store and pushed his cart towards his car, he opened the trunk and began putting bags in it. He couldn’t wait to get home and relax and enjoy the peace and quiet, around this time of the year was when Garen was the most vulnerable, he missed his family and he would sometimes go to the world of the living to watch his great grand children from afar. He got in the car and started it before heading out towards home.

He pulled into the driveway and turned his car off and popped the trunk. He grabbed the bag with the eggs and the bread and another bag with milk and juice. He walked up the stairs and fumbled for his keys when he thought he heard noise in the house so he gave up on his keys and opened the door since it was unlocked. When he walked into the house he heard a man’s voice say ...I’ll have something warm waiting for you. He thought it was the television and walked to the kitchen to set his bags down and called out, Kye. I’m home. He walked to Kye’s room and slowly opened the door to see Kye standing shirtless with Alistair standing next to him touching him. He pushed the door so it slammed into the wall and said in an icy tone, What is going on? Alistair what are you doing in Kye’s room?

He looked at how uncomfortable Kye was standing there and Kye’s past came flooding into his brain and the next thing he knew he was up in Alistairs face. What were you going to do? He stared at Alistair and clenched his fists. Alistair I would like it if you came into the kitchen with me. Kye stay here for now please. He turned around and headed out towards the kitchen, his nails digging into his palms.

And it's o k a y
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Tag: Alistair/Kye
Words: 591
Notes: I hope its okay
Credit:

Made by Jennifer of Caution!
Lyrics are Everybody Hurts
by Avril Lavigne. Steal and
I'll track you down and
beat you with a noodle.

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[Kye Maverick Abrion]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: #2e2e2e; width:430px; height:550px; padding:0px;] in the end born a saint, but with every sin i still wanna be holy. i will live again. who we are isn't how we live, we are more than our bodies. if i fall, i will rise back up and relive my glory OUTFIT: clicky | TAGGED: alistair & garen | WORDS: 568 Kye really didn't want to go to the hospital. He'd been taught all his life that hospitals meant trouble. Whether trouble with the law or trouble from his father. He didn't want Garen upset because he had to go to the hospital. No, he would never be sick enough to warrent going to the hospital. He'd never allow it, he'd have to be knocked out. No. No, no, no, no, no. Never again. He desperately hoped that his art teacher was not going to try and make him go if he so much as sneezed. No, it would not happen, he couldn't let that happen. He didn't want to be beaten again. He didn't want it, didn't want it at all. These thoughts only added to his tension as the other male reached out and touched his shoulder, and he fought his instincts to run. No, running always made it worse. Always. He looked up at the other male, watching him carefully. Was he expected to make the first move? His father had wanted it that way, so he could feel justified in what he did. And if he didn't, he was beaten. So which would he rather? Beaten to a pulp... or sex? He could tolerate sex better. He stepped a bit closer to the other male, bowing his head ever-so-slightly as the other male's hand remained on his shoulders and then moved down over his back. He leaned in slowly, if a little stiffly, rubbing the bridge of his nose lightly along the art teacher's jawline. A small gesture, showing the male which Kye would prefer from the options he was given. He looked up at his teacher through his lashes. "Please sir..." he whispered softly, though what he was pleading for was not to be known, because there was suddenly a voice nearby that did not belong to him or Alistair. Garen. Kye felt his heart leap into his throat. Dear god, please, just let him go away. It was always worse when someone tried to interfere. When someone saw. His father had taught him that. His father took it out on him, would his teacher take it out on him as well? He silently pleaded for his guardian just to walk away. Go away. But the door was opening, he looked up, eyes crestfallen as he met the eyes of his guardian. He flinched as the door was slammed backwards into the wall, shrinking away from both of the larger men and against the wall, shrinking down into a sit on the floor in the corner, knees to his chest as he covered his head. He was tense, bracing for the blows that would likely come. He heard Garen's voice, he was angry. He clenched his eyes shut tightly. He wanted it to go away, just go away. And then he heard Garen order Alistair to the kitchen. And then he walked away. He left him alone with the other Reaper! He tensed again, bracing himself for a foot or a fist. He was surely going to get it now. Garen come back! He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He didn't dare. No. He couldn't let go. It would only hurt worse. He clenched his fists into his wet hair as he made himself as small a target as was possible. Please, just let it be over with quickly... DATE: December 15 - 3:00 PM NOTES:

this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0.

[Alistair Therin Redcliffe]

Poor kid. He looked so vunerable like that. Alistair hated to see someone so young so unhappy. He wanted to wrap his arms around the boy and tell him everything was ok, that no one was going to hurt him anymore. But Kye was a teenager... he probably didnt want his teacher hugging him and trying to sugar-coat his life. He had a Reaper around if he needed someone to confide in, and all Alistair could do was try to be there for the boy if he ever asked for help.

Then the boy was leaning closer and rubbing his nose against Alistair's chin, and the teacher looked down at him in surprise. "Kye, wha-" He heard the boy murmer 'please, sir' before Garens voice echoed out, and the man himself stormed in. At first Al relaxed, even going so far as to smile at the principal. After all, Kye probably needed his Reaper right now. And it would save him a phone call. Maybe Garen could convince Kye to get checked out at the hospital. The look of complete rage in the other man's eyes made him pause, however, and before he knew it Kye had pulled away and curled up in the corner, positively trembling with fear. What was going on here!? Al looked at Kye, frowning a moment before Garens voice drew his attention again, ordering him to the kitchen. Well, fuck that. Couldnt he see Kye needed them? And what the hell was he so mad about anyhow? Was he pissed Al hadnt called him first? Couldnt that wait until Kye was warmed up and calm?

Unless...

Was Kye afraid... of Garen? Was Garen mad that he'd seen Kyes scars? They looked old, yes, but... Kye and Garen had both been in Haven alot longer than him, right? Who's to say the cuts had to have been made before the boy came to Haven? And was that why Kye was so against going to a hospital? Had Garen warned him against it, knowing Kye couldnt actually die from anything he did to the boy? As horrible as it all sounded... it made sense. After all, Kye had been calm before Garen got home, then suddenly he looked like he'd seen the devil himself. Shit... that nosebump... that 'please sir'... had Kye been seeking comfort? Had he been about to ask for protection from Garen?

Alistair frowned, approching the boy and kneeling beside him, reaching to gently touch his shoulder. "Kye... no one is going to hurt you, son. I wont let them. Please, look at me, ok?" He stroked the boys hair gently, sighing. "I dont know what is going on, Kye, but if you need help, I'm here for you. Has Garen hurt you? Is that why you look so scared of him? Because if it is, I'll go down there and kick his ass right now, and then you and I will go find the immortals and get you a proper guardian. One where you never have to be afraid again. But you have to tell me, ok? Be a brave boy, Kye. I cant get an immortal here on assumptions. I need you to tell me if thats what is happening."

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CURRENTMOOD:: guilty
POSTTAGGEDFOR:: Kye and Garen
CHARACTEROUTFIT:: Fabulous
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TEMPLATE CREATED BY YOUR SWEET DEMISE of CAUTION 2 THE WIND

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[Garen Quintin Almeric]

E v e r y b o d y hurts some days
It's okay to be a f r a i d
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Everybody h u r t s , everybody screams
E v e r y b o d y feels this way

Garen had walked out of his room, Wait what am I doing? He spun around, he thought about Kye's past and he felt horrible, he was supposed to be Kye's protector now and here he was leaving the would be rapist with his charge, no. his son. If he could he would have gone to the world of the living and beaten Kye's sperm donor to death, but he cared about his charge to much to go and ruin his reaper status. When he entered the room again he saw Alistair touching Kye and Kye had a look of fear on his face. He came in just in time to hear Alistair ask if he as in Garen was hurting Kye. He bit the inside of his cheek in annoyance, this kid Alistair knew nothing about Garen and to assume that Garen was hurting his own charge angered Garen in more ways than one.

Instead of yelling Garen spoke in an icy tone, Alistair. Garen paused and relaxed his hands before he continued, You know. When someone tells you to go to the kitchen in their house, the right thing to do is go into the kitchen. He looked at Kye and frowned, he knew that Kye knew he wasn't mad at him, but it hurt Garen's heart to see Kye in the vulnerable place that he was in. He sighed and rubbed his temples before looking at Alistair again and saying, Step away from my charge and come into the kitchen...now.

He waited for Alistair to stand up before saying, You honestly think I would hurt my own charge? I have been here for seventy three years, and each charge that lives under my roof in my care has been a son or daughter to me. He clenched his fists again, I would rather move on to the pits of hell that are surely waiting for me, than hurt someone whom I care for in my house. I would like it if you would leave. He looked at Kye and his heart broke again, he had never been beaten but he knew that if he had he would be more like Kye in more ways than one, he sympathized with the young man more than anyone else did in New Haven, that was one reason why the Immortals had given Kye to him.

And it's o k a y
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Tag: Alistair/Kye
Words: 394
Notes: He's angry.
Credit:

Made by Jennifer of Caution!
Lyrics are Everybody Hurts
by Avril Lavigne. Steal and
I'll track you down and
beat you with a noodle.

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