September 25, 2002
hot summer day [kaj'sha-kang]

[atlantic city boardwalk]


An unusual look for him, today. Sagging hiphugging jeans, black, white stitching; wallet chain; white wifebeater jersey. With his golden curls and his spoiled mouth, he looks nothing like the street thug his clothes would suggest, everything like the prodigal son wasting his father's money slumming. In the last heat of summer, an ice cream cone slowly melts in his hand.

Flavor? Plain vanilla, of course. Pure. and. simple.

Even so, as he slings his slender form against the boardwalk bench, people pass him by and try not to look too long or too hard. It's broad daylight. Shadows are short. There is no danger. He wears sunglasses, two hundred dollars a pair, and they sit low on his narrow aristocrat's nose to expose eyes which do not squint in the brilliant glare, do not reflect light, do not have any color but black.

People-watching.
Prey-watching.

.....how did it start, well i don't know, i just feel the craving, i see the flesh and it smells fresh and it's just there for the taking.....

the sun bleaches further dirty blond hair (but washed, so fresh and washed, for once..... untarnished) hands shoved into the pockets of baggy jeans hanging on belt's bare cling, the button up shirt open, tails dancing with each long, loping stride that lets tank boots cover (devour) the ground

no sunglasses, mismatched eyes hidden beneath brow's ridge and half-shading lids
watching
waiting

.......these little girls they make me feel so goddamned exhilirated, i fill them up, i can't give it up, the pain that i'm just erasing, i tell my lies and i despise every second i'm with you so i run away and you still stay so what the fuck is with you......

a simple stretch, and afternoon walk (stalk) to ease his mind the worries caused previous nights events (failures)
there is question to the effectiveness of the walk, the thoughts that stray across his consciousness
tension hides beneath flowing cotton

.....i don't know why i'm so fucking cold, i don't know why it hurts me, all i wanna do is get with you and make the pain away, why do i have this conscience all it does is fuck with me, why do i have this torment, all i want to do is fuck it away.....


Watching his Galliard go by, Kaj'sha doesn't so much as flicker an eyelid. Asher. Poor Asher, so tormented. He would come to his Alpha if he wished.

A drop of melted ice cream trickles down the side of the cone. A drop slides over the paper wrap. A drop glides onto slim, long fingers: Onetwothree...four--and caught, delicately and perfectly, on the tip of his tongue snaking up over his fingers. Fourthreetwoone...all clean.

Seraphim could weep.

A little boy stops in front of Kaj'sha, interrupting one of his few decadent moments. His mother is too far away and too engrossed in the diamond necklace in the storefront window across the walk. The boy is towheaded, perhaps four, and stands frowningly curious in the way only children could be. Black eyes meet hazel. Kaj'sha gives his cone one last, precious, slow lick and.

...gives it to the boy, crawling with the Goddess' touch. Just call him a Good Samaritan.


.....let me see how my life has been taken, this demon haunts me, they're waiting, help me..... you fuck me up i can't get down, you pick me up when i am down, i cannot live without them, i do not live without them.....

perhaps it is a delayed reaction, a test within itself (or a posey of a ring) that carries the Galliard past his Alpha
perhaps it is only the cotton candy vendor
spun blue sugar bought with a smile, even laughter amidst the comment it matches one eye, fingers twisting through the sticky (melted and pure) treat, webbing shredded to cast itself between his fingers before it's licked languidly away

.....hey daddy, they are taking me away, biting, facing him (my soul) they're eating... help me

long body folds to slide onto the end of the bench, ignoring the child, ignoring the gift - seeming very much to be mindful of his own business
focusing solely on the candy
waiting for the child to walk away

.... they carry this thing inside of me, it wants to get out, all it does is scream and shout, i'm not going to let them out, they tell me to hurt myself, they tell me to hurt myself, they tell me to hurt myself, but i'm not going to listen...you fuck me up i can't get down, you pick me up when i am down, i cannot live without them, i do not live without them.....

finally, tilting the spiderweb delicacy towards his Alpha
silent
offering

.... hey daddy....

(kang) **walks slowly down the street, his pale hands folded infront of him**

When the boy had toddled off, Kaj'sha licks his fingers clean and then wipes them off on the handkerchief he couldn't help but carry, even dressed like this. Across the way, the boy tugs his mother's skirt. She pulls her eyes reluctantly away from the gleam of baubles and the dream of her rich handsome prince - yes dear? - exasperatedly plunging back into reality.

Mother and child exchange words. The child eventually points Kaj'sha's way; the mother looks. Tired, 30-something. You can tell by the slump of her shoulders and the wear on the bones. Single with child. You can tell by the way she straightens to see the beautiful youth, unconsciously straightening her hair.

Kaj'sha smiles and waves, languid as an Oscar Wilde noble. Where does he keep his painting?

Shaking his head at the offered gift without looking at it, the Philodox watches the mother return his smile, shy, and hesitate. Her thoughts are nearly transparent. Talk with him or not? He's so young...cradlerobbing...oh, but what a lovely smile, and he keeps looking at me...

Deliberately, Kaj'sha frowns suddenly - just a twitch of emotion - and looks away.

Ohgod. Did I insult him? Staring like that, like a moonstruck teenager. Foolish, foolish. I'm so stupid. I'm old and ugly and stupid. I'm...

"How easily," murmurs Kaj'sha, the fingers of his right hand moving slowly and without purpose now that his ice cream cone was gone, "their hearts do break."

(kang) **walks slowly past the young woman without looking at her, europians all look alike anyway**

a string plucks loose, wound around his finger, slowly, the young artist (Dancer) obsessed with this new creation (destruction) of a smaller entity from this nebulous cloud perched atop the paper stick
and then, only then, do those eyes raise
(day and night, one sees the past.... but the other....?)
watching the mother as his tongue reaches out in liscivious (malicious) lick (grope) to pull the sugar into his mouth with a smirk

....... it's even easier to break their bodies.......

(kang)**spots Asher and Kaj the moment of recongnition obvious as he turns to approch them**

A quick sideways glance, favoring Asher with a smile. "So carnal," he chides gently, his attention since moved on to the asian man moving past the mother and child.

"Oh look. Ayydis' admirer."

the favor returns with soft (haunting) laughter but otherwise silent smile (smirk) to the chide
he's never known any other way
attention pulling breifly from the sticky treat to the approaching man

and he wonders if Ayydis is even still alive

(kang)a vague, slight smile touches the corner of his lips as he inhales deeply thinking of the rich blood all around him. he bows slightly. "Asher, Kaj'sha Greetings."


As though reading Asher's mind, Kaj'sha asks quietly, "Where is Ayydis, anyway?"

--and then the man is upon them, and he smiles in return. "Mr. Kang. Haven't seen you for a while."

(kang)**a helpless spreading of his hands** "Busy has business been." he grins. "Taryn seen I have not."

the last of the cotton candy is cleaned from his fingers before a sideways glance

..... reattaching her leg..... if she still breathes......

the bow acknowledged with a nod, even a partial smile, but little more

Hmm, is all Kaj'sha has to 'think' on the subject.

"What is your business?" inquires he of Kang, politely curious.

(kang)"Import, export and distribution." he says calmly, watching the two of them with his calm dark eyes

there is more (there is always more) but now is not the time to speak of it
although Kang's answer brings something of a smirk to a poet's lips..... distribution indeed

"I see," nodding, as though he really did (could) see. A beat. "What brings you here today, Mr. Kang?"

(kang)he shrugs. "Shopping and hoping to see Taryn." he says calmly

"She's indisposed, unfortunately. A little under the weather. Shall I tell her you asked after her?"

So strange, these words juxtaposed with his sagging designer jeans, his gleaming wallet chain.

(kang)"Yes please." he says simply ((BRB))

that smile slides malicious (familiar)
...hoping
how cute
his voice as silken as the candy just finished

"I'm sure she would hope to see you too... we'd be happy to pass along any messages."

even if I may speak some over her grave

[pause until later date]

Posted by asher at September 25, 2002 12:00 AM
Comments
Post a comment
Name:


Email Address:


URL:


Comments:


Remember info?