they all { mean well } | maslow/cord

Maslow Tiresias Ibex.


Maslow doesn't often venture into the districts, but when he does, his visits are brief. Today is different, though. He's been within the walls of district eight for much longer than he had planned, and his mouth throbs from hours of soft clicking, even if the noise of the people is enough for him to "see". He thinks, as he quickly approaches his 20th birthday, that perhaps he should break this habit, as it has become unnecessary and rather bothersome. It baffles him, also, that such a subtle sound threatens his appearance of normality and dances dangerously with his disguise. But Maslow doesn't think that he will end up throwing the habit away, and he's not sure why.

His mind clenches this thought in its slimy fists, as he continues his search for the man in red in gold, the same man he has searched for all day. The Ibex child brings himself to a halt at the entrance of an alley and stretches his toes in the loam of the Earth, his shoes having been retired to his bag hours ago. He cups his ears and listens to the discourse around the corner, curious but careful not to disturb. 

"You think you're so tough, don't ya, girly? It'll be my pleasure to get you off these streets."

Maslow presses his body flush to the brick, the second voice quieter and more feminine than the first. 

"Don't matter, I'll always come back."

The words the girl speaks-- if he could even call it that, with her obvious lack of breath-- make him grin and he finds his hands wandering to the waist of his jeans, cold fingers finding the handle of his walking stick and flicking it outward. As with one comes the other, and he pulls his glasses from their spot on his head, adjusting the middle to fit nicely on the bridge of his nose. May it be rash, he begins his waltz down the alley, the gentle tapping of his cane and heavy breathing of those who had been fighting making the air hang heavy around him. He says nothing, but strains his ears to listen for even the slightest of movements. It's been a while since he's had some fun and while he'll take the thrill of a tease, he hopes for something more. 

Maslow hopes for the combat he lost in not finding his target today. 

With a face of practiced indifference, he calls out into an alleyway he pretends to be empty. 

"Is somebody there?"