jabber jay - D9

Rain cascades over smooth stone, trickling through the cracks in the streets and creating murky puddles. Dark clouds dance in the sky, swooping down lower and lower like ravens. District Nine was just about to be engulfed in blackness, the last bit of sunlight fading on the horizon. A torn umbrella is held over a young boy's head, and rain soaks through the thin material. He is singing a song, rather off-key and scratchy. He seems to be taking his time, not caring that night is falling and storms are raging above. He seems content, despite all the strange looks people are giving him. It was normal for Jabber Jay to be scorned; why should he pretend that he actually cared about what people thought of him?

The boy approaches his home, where a lantern had been set on his porch. The dim light illuminated his chiseled features, and his pointed chin. He had a snub nose, and lopsided cheekbones. His cloudy gray eyes seem like fogged mirrors, taking in everything around him. One eye is a bit higher than the other, and he has a broad forehead. His arms are fairly strong, and he has a firm, muscled stomach. His curly, dust-colored hair falls in a mop over his head, concealing a plethora of acne underneath. His ears are pointed, and the lobes are dangling. He has a birthmark on his neck, and his thick skin is olive. On the inside of his arm there is a long, pale scar. He is six foot one, and he has to lower his head a bit to get in the door.

Violet is sitting on the patched sofa, her eyes glimmering as Jabber entered. The beautiful, elusive Fawn is present as well, giving him a little smile and making his heart swell with joy. Fawn gives a little wave, while Violet is eager to cling onto Jabber.

"Hey, little Violet! How's the little flower of the family today? What have you been doing while I was gone? You haven't been troubling anybody, have you? What was-"

Fawn stands up, placing a delicate finger on Jabber's lips. She didn't need to say a word. Jabber gives a small smile in return, shedding his wet clothes and laying on the sofa in his t-shirt and shorts. Fawn looks slightly embarassed at how open Jabber was, how bold he could be. Aside from his boisterous attitude, Jabber was very... what was the word? He liked to exhibit himself like a clown in a circus, performing little tricks and looking to impress everyone he met. He frowned upon "wonks", and insisted that all people be happy and have as much fun as possible. He was rather sweet and caring once you got past the eccentricity and the anomalic behavior.

After staring blankly at the compact television for a good twenty minutes, Jabber stood up and retreated to his room, leaving his rain-soaked clothes strewn out all over the hardwood floor. Taking after his father, Jabber had started up a bit of a collection. He had various different treasures stored in his closet, and all his clothes were thrown under his bed. There was a kerosene lamp on his redwood nightstand, and the paint was stripping off the walls. The back wall was covered in paint splatters, and written in tiny, sloppy letters was "Fawn." He had promised Fawn to keep the relationship lowkey, but it was hard to keep his feelings and temptations under control. His hand flew to his chest, where a small cut had been made. His lips began to tingle as he remembered their first kiss.

"I've told you I love you, right?"

Jabber could not help but smile at the memory. Who cared if they were cousins? Love knew no boundaries; his best friend was in love with her sister. Optimistic thoughts swirled through Jabber's head, his brain about to burst at the seams. He had no one to talk to at the moment, and no songs to sing, so he began drumming his fingers against the headboard of his bed. He remembered elementary school now, the horrible prank that his "friends" had played on him. They spoke in whispers for days, then eventually started to mouth words to each other. They then began to pretend he didn't exist. Since then, Jabber had developed a phobia of silence. He wanted to hear the voices of the people he loved, always. especially that fawn He always wanted to be known. Now he had started talking and couldn't stop, and couldn't live without ambiance. After laying still for what seemed like hours, Jabber finally decided to curl up beneath his dirty red quilt. He sent smothering kisses to Fawn, knowing she would feel them. They just had that connection, that strong love. His fatigue took hold of him, shoving him into a dark, dreamless realm. Then, as if he were peering through glass, a spectrum of hues began to dance before him. Memories flashed before his eyes; of Mocking breaking his arm, of kissing Fawn, of playing with Violet and Red. The memory that was clearest in his mind was the one of his parents meeting their doom in a horrid accident. He tried to bury the flashback with thoughts of Fawn, but nothing seemed to improve his remembrance more than trying to forget that some of the people he cared about most were gone.

He found himself waking up, staring into the dark. I won't let go of Fawn for as long as I live. I can't lose her like I lost my parents.

But even a dreamer like Jabber knew that Fawn's fate was not in his hands.