Raising Lions(Luna, Semper, Closed)

Of course she had dodged his attack; he had highly doubted he even would make contact with her jaw, though he really wished he could have. She was terribly annoying. Gavroche's jaw tightened as her voice sounded yet again, though he noticed her pulling out some sort of wallet.

"I have money for some food. Will you give me some, or are you above that now? Shall we just say, I've had a revelation and decided to live honestly now?"

"No. We don't serve rotten thieves."

The boy answered in a boorish tone, his eyes narrowed to slits. He didn't want to have anything to do with her, two reasons especially: 1. she was a thief. And 2. he thought she was stupid. Whatever had happened to her probably was just as bad as what had happened to him; he turned out to live an honest life, and she didn't.

"With what happened to me for about 14 years, I certainly wouldn't trust people. But I knew that not all people were like that, so I went with living an honest life and not doing to others what was done to me. You, on the other hand.... you went wrong somewhere."

From his height he looked down at her, a look of disapproval on his face. The boy's arms crossed across his chest tightly.





((I've been staring at this half finished post for the past two hours and my brain has flat lined and it's 1:32 in the morning...... DX *dies* ))

Death. I remember, how scared I was of it when I faced it, but the death he will have will be different. He will be guilty and he'll actually deserve it. If I was honest, I would admit I didn't have much of a plan, but honesty was abandoned long ago.

Dressed in a beautiful silk gown, and I went to his house. He lives alone, I'd learned after half a year of snooping for information. He's old enough now. I also learn that he has no family. Good, no one will miss him. No guilt for me, I guess. This is revenge, this is justified.

Dressed in a beautiful silk and satin gown I approached his front door. My flaming red hair a cloud from hell, my face ghostly white. I'd stolen some lip stick to make my lips contrast strikingly with my skin.

I turn the knob and open the door.

His house is dark and sparsely decorated. It doesn't look like he spends much time here. I know he's here now though. I watched him today, like a creepy stalker. I am a creepy stalker, I realize with an inner laugh.

"Who's there?"

The voice rang out into the silence like a whip. I hear it and strange emotions well up within me like bubbles. Passion, anger, lust, hatred. Lets just say, almost all of the deadly sins.

"You know who, love," I say in a sweet singsong voice. I step into the light. "Remember me?"

"My god," he says, and he to steps into the light.

"You look just as I remember you." I smile, and I could almost believe I have pointed teeth. "I've missed you."

He seems stunned, scared. I'm not even sure if he knows who I am. Maybe he thinks of me as all of his various victims, or am I singled out as the worst?

I walk over to him and draw my knife behind my back. "Are you sorry, sweetheart?"

The blade pierces his arm and touches his bone. He's brought to his knees in pain. "Please!" he shouts.

"Feel my pain," I hiss. I rip his shirt off and walk and admire his back. My hand lashes out faster than the whip had hit me. My knife blade cuts his back.

"You get thirty nine more." His screams, his pleas are like music to my ears. The thirty nine goes to quickly.

My knife plunges into his heart. He dies. Like that.

"It's what you deserved!" I scream into the night air. "No! Please! I'm right, I'm right, I'm right. I'm right."

I fall onto his chest and sob for hours. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry. I d-d-didn't mean it. Please... I'm sorry."

But he's gone. He can't say, "You're forgiven."

I gain nothing by standing here. He has denied me food, and there is nothing I get by standing here with these two idiots.

"You are wrong," I say to the idiot who hasn't punched me yet. "Honesty and trust? If wounded to deeply, they can never be fixed never. And as for your other question.... You prove it in years.

I need to leave. and when there isn't anything to gain, there's no point being somewhere.

Reds caught a glimpse of the world outside the tavern glass; and, somehow, the sun was drooping in power, District 9 gathering darkness. By not being able to perk to the bird chirps, the man left his little spot, heading to the door. Thunder rolled, quietness encompassed the non-tavern atmosphere. The eldest one peered through the windows; people rushed, some he recognized as the District 9 hunters. With their - and his - trained eyes for nature and behavioral changes, it gave him a major clue as to the current weather situation. No winds blew by.

"We're stuck in." Ears perked to more rumbling. "Trying to run now would be too late unless where you're heading is right next door." He started to see the first session of rain, a trickle that would eventually run to a downpour. Droplets would blur the vision badly, which was not essential especially during a thunderstorm. Low snarl. Stuck in with idiots.

Turning around, the man had crossed back to the tavern man, fishing out a few coins, and sticking out the money. "This should be enough for something to eat." He had certainly gotten a bit more talkative to this slightly younger person, yet it irked him greatly. Tavern man actually seemed okay. Though the black-haired man had been here before, there was no time for any interaction between the men; and, quite frankly, it was both a curse and somewhat blessing.

Now that Nature had turned everything into an indoor nightmare, the man compromised with himself that he would reward himself now to survive long enough from pretentious woman and irksome - unknowingly irksome - man. The family he was living with presented this type of rewarding system, and it seemed to work out fine - even wonderfully. The all-work notion was ideal; but, humans were not perfect. Nowhere near perfect.

He began to concoct up ways to spend time - with or without these other two.

A few years back, when he was trapped in the room, Gavroche would sit at the small window and watch storms in the afternoon. The massive bolts of lightning and shock waves of thunder awed him, but they still scared the poor boy. Despite how pretty the display of light was, it always scared him. His mother would comfort him, but as soon as there would be a boom loud enough to shake the window, the boy would cower. Would this be another one of those storms?

Absentmindedly having gone over to the window, Gavroche stood silently, looking out at the eerie clouds. Something was still off.... terribly off. The boy couldn't tell exactly what, but the way the trees stood absolutely, unnaturally still was startling. A cold shiver tingled his skin.

"Do you have a telephone? I want to call my grammy."

Gavroche turned around, eyes narrowing to slits.

"A telephone? What do you think this is, a suite hotel or something?"

Despite how horrible of a comeback that was, he didn't care. A snort escaped him as he glanced back at the window, though he froze. The wind had picked up -- much, much too quickly to be a normal afternoon storm. There was a wild howling at the door as rushing air whistled through the cracks of the door, and outside the trees were bending over, limbs flailing and the bright undersides of leaves showing, reflecting the intense lightning that lit up the sky. The thunder that sounded was enough to shake the boy's bones, startling him.

"That's one hell of a storm..."

He muttered, backing away towards the counter. It wasn't very like him to be nervous in the midst of a storm, but something about it set him on edge, bringing back memories of claustrophobia and detainment. Compared to the storm, he felt small and vulnerable -- a combination he did not enjoy.