Post by Lau-Sama on Jan 7, 2011 21:51:35 GMT -5
Azoth Hassan perhaps was unaware of some of his conditions. Other then his bad leg, (which had been growing stronger over the years) weak fingers, and multiple organ issues, Azoth had something wrong with his brain. He wasn’t stupid, as much as it may imply. Azoth’s brain simply had to work harder because of the damage done to it, and sometimes, it made him believe what he was doing was right. Or normal, when in fact it may just be the exact opposite. Azoth sometimes, was considered insane.
Four years ago, when he had been nothing but a lab experiment, Azoth had a few tests run on his optical lobe, some bits have been burned with an unstable chemical. Thus he no longer dreamed very clearly, mostly in sounds and emotion. Sometimes when he was awake, his vision would blur, and sometimes he would see things that weren’t there at all. It’s been this way ever since he was rescused, for lack of a better word. Tonight happen to be one of those nights, where he thought he saw someone, or something in the corner of his eye. Passing through the wall. Since he moved back home, Azoth had always suspected the mansion was haunted.
So often, he’d wander around at night, just like he was now. Though he was curious, he was also scared out of his wits. Always seeing things that weren’t real, could sometimes have that affect.
Sullivan Wolf noticed things. It was part of his job description. Over the years, it was apparent that his young master's health was improving; so much as it was possible to under the conditions he had been placed in. It was noticeable even a day after he had been taken from the laboratory he had met the young master in. His shoulders seemed to lighten, if only an imperceptible amount. The young master had begun to take to walking the halls at night. At first, Sullivan had thought his young master had been Sleepwalking, but his actions were far too coordinate. Too assure of himself.
After seeing the toll the late-night wanderings were taking on his young master's body--unable to stay awake during the day, sleeping through his paperwork-- he decided to put a stop to it. Carefully, silently, he slipped out from a dark corridor to barricade his young master's way, a dark shadow. "Young Master? Shouldn't you be in bed?" he chastised gently, reaching out with a hand to cover his heart, bowing gently from the waist.
Azoth nearly bumped into Sullivan as he appeared, his blue eyes
glowed through the dark. Like a low beam of energy. “I was in bed,” He said, simply. “I just wanted to walk, my leg hurts…” He said, he often lied when he would see things. He’d know Sullivan would say he was just ‘seeing things’, and that he should go back to bed. Something like that. But Azoth was positive he saw something, he knew there was something there.
He had this gut wrenching feeling to figure out what the reoccurring figure was. Even though it may had just been a projection of his memories, part of his frontal lobe did help with the damages in his optical lobe, so things occasionally got mixed up. “So, get out of my way, would ya?”
Sullivan cocked his head to the side like an inquisitive puppy, listening to the explanation with a impassive look. When would his young master realize that it was nearly impossible to lie to him? It wasn't even the fact that his young master felt any guilt over the lying, but it was merely biological. The hormone Epinephrine is released inside his young master's body, causing his heart to speed and his lungs to increase its' respiratory rate; the sheer stressor of possibly getting caught in an untruth causing this hormone release.
"If your leg was hurting, you should have called me, my lord. I would have done those muscle relaxations that your physician recommended to help relax your muscles and alleviate the pain." His arms crossed behind his back, smiling warmly down at his young master, crimson-flecked amber eyes flickering in the dark. "Is there something you require? Anything I could fetch
for my young master's ease?"
Azoth's eyes narrowed slightly, Sullivan obviously knew he was lying. "I hate that guy, you already know that..." He said. Trying to squeeze passed Sullivan. "Just get out of my way, I want to stretch my legs." He said, digging his fingers at Sullivan's side since he was still in the door frame. He knew what ever he saw must be far away by now, but if he ran maybe he could actually catch up this time.
Sullivan frowned just barely, turning on his heel to follow his young master down the dark hallway. "But his job is to help you. I don't know enough of human medicine to heal you completely." His right hand flitted up to cover his shoulder, watching the retreating, limping form of his master hobble down the hallway as fast as he possibly could. Was he searching for something? "Is something the matter, my lord?" asked the silver-haired butler, keeping a step behind his master.
His young master's neon eyes looked wild and out of focus; Did he have a nightmare? Is that why he refused to sleep at night, the ghosts of his past haunting him? "My lord, I cannot help if you do not speak," he murmured, trying a different approach.
Azoth stopped as he had been walking quite quickly, he wasn't able to run like most others. It would hurt his lungs if he had over exerted himself. "No, that guy touches me too much--!" He said, still talking about his physician. "You should learn about medicine if-----" He paused, leaning slightly so he could peek at what was behind Sullivan. Barely, he saw the outline of a figure.
"There it is--!" He said, his voice in a whisper suddenly. He pointed at the figure, although, it wasn't really there. He could see it as clear as day.
Sullivan bowed his head a bit, accepting the comment. That physician really did set his teeth on edge; his hands lingered too long on his master's dark skin. If he looked closer, Sullivan could see the traces of his blasphemous touch when he was giving Azoth his night bath. Those would be the nights he would let Azoth stay in the bath to his heart's content, gently rubbing him down until not even his demon-tainted eyes could detect any trace of a mere mortal's touch on his precious master. But, the fact still stood that the man knew what he was doing, even if
he was lecherous in thoughts and actions. "I will learn the ways of human medicine for... my lord?"
His statement ended abruptly, the upward tilt of his words suggesting a question. Out of the blue, his young master had suddenly stopped and pointed behind him, whispering of something behind him. Of course Sullivan looked, and he really couldn't see anything. That isn't to say he didn't believe his lord-What reason would he have to lie about such taboo things?- but he himself was skeptical. Could his lord see something that he could not? It was an insult to him; that somehow, his young master could see the threat but he, his faithful dog, could not.
"My lord... what do you see?" Sullivan's own voice had dropped to a low purr, matching his young master's tone pitch for pitch.
Azoth stared up at Sullivan, his glowing blue eyes widened. "You can't see them?" He asked, he was practically shaking. If Sullivan couldn't see it, what kind of menacing creature could he be seeing? "They're right there, it looks like a man----" He remained pointing, until he saw it move.
Though, in the opposite direction. "U-uh---!" He perked up, rather then hiding behind Sullivan. "They're getting away! Get them!" Azoth suddenly barked, shaking Sullivan by his clothing.
"Catch them, Sullivan...! They're getting away! Kill it!"
Sullivan tried as hard as he could. But, he couldn't see the specters that were plaguing his young lord. Maybe his joking assumption had been right, and his young master was being plagued by the ghosts and souls of his past. A fallen soul that was untended to by both Reaper and Demon, doomed to walk the Earth until forgotten or remembered. An awful existence, and something Sullivan would not wish on anyone. "Whatever
you're seeing, my lord, it won't hurt you." He couldn't kill something that he couldn't see, or that he believed to be already dead, could he?
Instead, he pulled his young master in a sort of impromptu embrace, wrapping one arm around the dark-skinned teenager's shoulders and holding him in place. "What you are seeing are poor souls, lost without a light. Do not fear them; that keeps them away from their God's light for longer." His mouth stung, the words of God falling from his damned lips so easily, so easily, it was like they were from the holiest Archbishop; the way Sullivan's smooth speech got into your head. It was the sort of voice a minister would commit the first Sin for, the kind of voice to get others to believe even a fool's lie as gospel.
"They need your pity, if anything. They're cursed, my lord, to walk, forever alone, until Kingdom come."
Azoth shook in Sullivan's arms, trembled. "You mean, ghosts?" He said, tilting his head up. Sullivan was still a good deal taller then him, while Azoth had probably only grew half a foot since he been out of the lab. "If it's a spirit wouldn't you see it too....?" Azoth asked, holding his head. The back, where instead of bone he had metal, it hurt. "Ugh..." it couldn't be just a ghost. Sullivan just refused to take orders, he was lazy. There was someone in his home and Sullivan didn't care.
Frustrated, Azoth punched his butler in the chest, running, even though he shouldn't, in the opposite direction. The figure had disappeared already, so now, his destination was aimless.
Sullivan covered his chest with a hand, watching with a forlorn glance as his young master limped away from him in the opposite direction. It wasn't like he expected a different response, but the actions still stung. His lord didn't trust him; he saw every act of Sullivan acting on his own will as disobedience. A small smirk crossed his lips, bearing unnaturally white teeth. The young Hassan still had much to learn, it seemed. But he wasn't the type to accept that knowledge, it would come to him in time, however. Sullivan just wished that it wouldn’t take something drastic. Refusing the urge to go after his young lord- he would call him if he was needed- Sullivan decided to head into the kitchens to make his young lord a cup of chamomile tea. It had a calming effect on humans, his young master included, and it would be something welcome.
His young lord was probably on his way to his book-fort to hide from his fears, and probably wouldn't leave there until morning. Sullivan had already had to rebuild it once, when his young lord was particularly rowdy one day in his past summer and knocked down a full wall. It was only then did he order it to be rebuilt, and big enough so that his larger body had room to fit. Taking the pot of steaming water, he poured it into the cup and quickly made sure the tea was satisfactory-more than satisfactory, brilliant- and went off to find his lord.
Azoth had indeed, ran and hid in his fort, rubbing his eyes for at least two minutes straight. He was beginning to doubt himself, he usually put the blame on Sullivan or others in general. But things like this had been happening increasingly often. He started to believe that he may be insane as some of his physical health providers had said, not to him, of course. But Sullivan would tell him. Azoth would never see those people again after that, but what if they were right? Azoth held his face in his hands, usually his eyes alone gave off his location. But with them covered, he was completely in the dark, the only light in the library was a few candles on the table closest to the fort of books.
Maybe they were right... Maybe he was just insane, and he couldn't control his own mind. If he couldn't control his own mind what could he do? His body was already horribly out of shape. It was then, Azoth began to silently sob to himself, bringing his knees to his face and burrowing his head into them. His own body was his own personal prison.
Sullivan rapped his knuckles on the door to the library, letting himself in without his master's approval. He could see the flickering of a bit of light in the room from a lit candle, signifying that his master was indeed in here, and he was indeed in his fort. "Young master?" he murmured, taking a few steps forward before kneeling at the entrance to the fort, setting the china cup of tea and the saucer at the mouth of the tunnel and bowing his head in an admission of subservience. "I brought the young lord Chamomile Tea, to calm his nerves down." Out of impulse, he licked his lips briefly and stood back up to his full height and backed away from the tea, in case his young master didn't want him to be near when he emerged to take his tea.
Of course, he knew his master was sobbing, but he wasn't going to burst in there and comfort him-because it turned out oh-so-well last time- but his young master would not forgive him if he destroyed his second fort in a meager attempt to comfort his master's tears; an effort that Sullivan was unsure if it would be taken positively or not. Considering his master's actions thus far tonight, the outcome of that comfort being taken positively was slim to none.
UNFINISHED RP. SAD FACE.
Four years ago, when he had been nothing but a lab experiment, Azoth had a few tests run on his optical lobe, some bits have been burned with an unstable chemical. Thus he no longer dreamed very clearly, mostly in sounds and emotion. Sometimes when he was awake, his vision would blur, and sometimes he would see things that weren’t there at all. It’s been this way ever since he was rescused, for lack of a better word. Tonight happen to be one of those nights, where he thought he saw someone, or something in the corner of his eye. Passing through the wall. Since he moved back home, Azoth had always suspected the mansion was haunted.
So often, he’d wander around at night, just like he was now. Though he was curious, he was also scared out of his wits. Always seeing things that weren’t real, could sometimes have that affect.
Sullivan Wolf noticed things. It was part of his job description. Over the years, it was apparent that his young master's health was improving; so much as it was possible to under the conditions he had been placed in. It was noticeable even a day after he had been taken from the laboratory he had met the young master in. His shoulders seemed to lighten, if only an imperceptible amount. The young master had begun to take to walking the halls at night. At first, Sullivan had thought his young master had been Sleepwalking, but his actions were far too coordinate. Too assure of himself.
After seeing the toll the late-night wanderings were taking on his young master's body--unable to stay awake during the day, sleeping through his paperwork-- he decided to put a stop to it. Carefully, silently, he slipped out from a dark corridor to barricade his young master's way, a dark shadow. "Young Master? Shouldn't you be in bed?" he chastised gently, reaching out with a hand to cover his heart, bowing gently from the waist.
Azoth nearly bumped into Sullivan as he appeared, his blue eyes
glowed through the dark. Like a low beam of energy. “I was in bed,” He said, simply. “I just wanted to walk, my leg hurts…” He said, he often lied when he would see things. He’d know Sullivan would say he was just ‘seeing things’, and that he should go back to bed. Something like that. But Azoth was positive he saw something, he knew there was something there.
He had this gut wrenching feeling to figure out what the reoccurring figure was. Even though it may had just been a projection of his memories, part of his frontal lobe did help with the damages in his optical lobe, so things occasionally got mixed up. “So, get out of my way, would ya?”
Sullivan cocked his head to the side like an inquisitive puppy, listening to the explanation with a impassive look. When would his young master realize that it was nearly impossible to lie to him? It wasn't even the fact that his young master felt any guilt over the lying, but it was merely biological. The hormone Epinephrine is released inside his young master's body, causing his heart to speed and his lungs to increase its' respiratory rate; the sheer stressor of possibly getting caught in an untruth causing this hormone release.
"If your leg was hurting, you should have called me, my lord. I would have done those muscle relaxations that your physician recommended to help relax your muscles and alleviate the pain." His arms crossed behind his back, smiling warmly down at his young master, crimson-flecked amber eyes flickering in the dark. "Is there something you require? Anything I could fetch
for my young master's ease?"
Azoth's eyes narrowed slightly, Sullivan obviously knew he was lying. "I hate that guy, you already know that..." He said. Trying to squeeze passed Sullivan. "Just get out of my way, I want to stretch my legs." He said, digging his fingers at Sullivan's side since he was still in the door frame. He knew what ever he saw must be far away by now, but if he ran maybe he could actually catch up this time.
Sullivan frowned just barely, turning on his heel to follow his young master down the dark hallway. "But his job is to help you. I don't know enough of human medicine to heal you completely." His right hand flitted up to cover his shoulder, watching the retreating, limping form of his master hobble down the hallway as fast as he possibly could. Was he searching for something? "Is something the matter, my lord?" asked the silver-haired butler, keeping a step behind his master.
His young master's neon eyes looked wild and out of focus; Did he have a nightmare? Is that why he refused to sleep at night, the ghosts of his past haunting him? "My lord, I cannot help if you do not speak," he murmured, trying a different approach.
Azoth stopped as he had been walking quite quickly, he wasn't able to run like most others. It would hurt his lungs if he had over exerted himself. "No, that guy touches me too much--!" He said, still talking about his physician. "You should learn about medicine if-----" He paused, leaning slightly so he could peek at what was behind Sullivan. Barely, he saw the outline of a figure.
"There it is--!" He said, his voice in a whisper suddenly. He pointed at the figure, although, it wasn't really there. He could see it as clear as day.
Sullivan bowed his head a bit, accepting the comment. That physician really did set his teeth on edge; his hands lingered too long on his master's dark skin. If he looked closer, Sullivan could see the traces of his blasphemous touch when he was giving Azoth his night bath. Those would be the nights he would let Azoth stay in the bath to his heart's content, gently rubbing him down until not even his demon-tainted eyes could detect any trace of a mere mortal's touch on his precious master. But, the fact still stood that the man knew what he was doing, even if
he was lecherous in thoughts and actions. "I will learn the ways of human medicine for... my lord?"
His statement ended abruptly, the upward tilt of his words suggesting a question. Out of the blue, his young master had suddenly stopped and pointed behind him, whispering of something behind him. Of course Sullivan looked, and he really couldn't see anything. That isn't to say he didn't believe his lord-What reason would he have to lie about such taboo things?- but he himself was skeptical. Could his lord see something that he could not? It was an insult to him; that somehow, his young master could see the threat but he, his faithful dog, could not.
"My lord... what do you see?" Sullivan's own voice had dropped to a low purr, matching his young master's tone pitch for pitch.
Azoth stared up at Sullivan, his glowing blue eyes widened. "You can't see them?" He asked, he was practically shaking. If Sullivan couldn't see it, what kind of menacing creature could he be seeing? "They're right there, it looks like a man----" He remained pointing, until he saw it move.
Though, in the opposite direction. "U-uh---!" He perked up, rather then hiding behind Sullivan. "They're getting away! Get them!" Azoth suddenly barked, shaking Sullivan by his clothing.
"Catch them, Sullivan...! They're getting away! Kill it!"
Sullivan tried as hard as he could. But, he couldn't see the specters that were plaguing his young lord. Maybe his joking assumption had been right, and his young master was being plagued by the ghosts and souls of his past. A fallen soul that was untended to by both Reaper and Demon, doomed to walk the Earth until forgotten or remembered. An awful existence, and something Sullivan would not wish on anyone. "Whatever
you're seeing, my lord, it won't hurt you." He couldn't kill something that he couldn't see, or that he believed to be already dead, could he?
Instead, he pulled his young master in a sort of impromptu embrace, wrapping one arm around the dark-skinned teenager's shoulders and holding him in place. "What you are seeing are poor souls, lost without a light. Do not fear them; that keeps them away from their God's light for longer." His mouth stung, the words of God falling from his damned lips so easily, so easily, it was like they were from the holiest Archbishop; the way Sullivan's smooth speech got into your head. It was the sort of voice a minister would commit the first Sin for, the kind of voice to get others to believe even a fool's lie as gospel.
"They need your pity, if anything. They're cursed, my lord, to walk, forever alone, until Kingdom come."
Azoth shook in Sullivan's arms, trembled. "You mean, ghosts?" He said, tilting his head up. Sullivan was still a good deal taller then him, while Azoth had probably only grew half a foot since he been out of the lab. "If it's a spirit wouldn't you see it too....?" Azoth asked, holding his head. The back, where instead of bone he had metal, it hurt. "Ugh..." it couldn't be just a ghost. Sullivan just refused to take orders, he was lazy. There was someone in his home and Sullivan didn't care.
Frustrated, Azoth punched his butler in the chest, running, even though he shouldn't, in the opposite direction. The figure had disappeared already, so now, his destination was aimless.
Sullivan covered his chest with a hand, watching with a forlorn glance as his young master limped away from him in the opposite direction. It wasn't like he expected a different response, but the actions still stung. His lord didn't trust him; he saw every act of Sullivan acting on his own will as disobedience. A small smirk crossed his lips, bearing unnaturally white teeth. The young Hassan still had much to learn, it seemed. But he wasn't the type to accept that knowledge, it would come to him in time, however. Sullivan just wished that it wouldn’t take something drastic. Refusing the urge to go after his young lord- he would call him if he was needed- Sullivan decided to head into the kitchens to make his young lord a cup of chamomile tea. It had a calming effect on humans, his young master included, and it would be something welcome.
His young lord was probably on his way to his book-fort to hide from his fears, and probably wouldn't leave there until morning. Sullivan had already had to rebuild it once, when his young lord was particularly rowdy one day in his past summer and knocked down a full wall. It was only then did he order it to be rebuilt, and big enough so that his larger body had room to fit. Taking the pot of steaming water, he poured it into the cup and quickly made sure the tea was satisfactory-more than satisfactory, brilliant- and went off to find his lord.
Azoth had indeed, ran and hid in his fort, rubbing his eyes for at least two minutes straight. He was beginning to doubt himself, he usually put the blame on Sullivan or others in general. But things like this had been happening increasingly often. He started to believe that he may be insane as some of his physical health providers had said, not to him, of course. But Sullivan would tell him. Azoth would never see those people again after that, but what if they were right? Azoth held his face in his hands, usually his eyes alone gave off his location. But with them covered, he was completely in the dark, the only light in the library was a few candles on the table closest to the fort of books.
Maybe they were right... Maybe he was just insane, and he couldn't control his own mind. If he couldn't control his own mind what could he do? His body was already horribly out of shape. It was then, Azoth began to silently sob to himself, bringing his knees to his face and burrowing his head into them. His own body was his own personal prison.
Sullivan rapped his knuckles on the door to the library, letting himself in without his master's approval. He could see the flickering of a bit of light in the room from a lit candle, signifying that his master was indeed in here, and he was indeed in his fort. "Young master?" he murmured, taking a few steps forward before kneeling at the entrance to the fort, setting the china cup of tea and the saucer at the mouth of the tunnel and bowing his head in an admission of subservience. "I brought the young lord Chamomile Tea, to calm his nerves down." Out of impulse, he licked his lips briefly and stood back up to his full height and backed away from the tea, in case his young master didn't want him to be near when he emerged to take his tea.
Of course, he knew his master was sobbing, but he wasn't going to burst in there and comfort him-because it turned out oh-so-well last time- but his young master would not forgive him if he destroyed his second fort in a meager attempt to comfort his master's tears; an effort that Sullivan was unsure if it would be taken positively or not. Considering his master's actions thus far tonight, the outcome of that comfort being taken positively was slim to none.
UNFINISHED RP. SAD FACE.