Incomplete && All Alone {South}

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Incomplete && All Alone {South} Jun 5, 2012 18:34:09 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2012 18:34:09 GMT -5

Shield your eyes from the truth I am
Tell me why it'll be good again
All those demons are closing in
And I don't want
You to burn

Kiera's world is forever divided into two factions. Light and dark, public and secret, the side of her everyone sees and the side no one does (Kaelen was perhaps the only exception to that, though, seeing the potential in her long before she saw it in herself). Living life on a delicate balance of shifting roles would be enough to confound any number of lesser beings, but for her it's not so much of a choice as it is a mission, a duty to bring salvation to those who could never save themselves. A higher calling rests on her shoulders, a divine right bestowed on her by the only person in the world for which she'd ever had true respect, and she intends to honor it. The world might have said he was wrong in so many ways, but Kiera knows how creatures who have never truly seen the light can come to fear its presence among them. As she ducks into the bar's familiar doorway she runs a mental tally in a rapidfire spark across her mind - five months he's been gone. Four months since she found the precious journal currently residing in her purse that detailed her ascent into a state of enlightenment that only few can hope to achieve, and in those four months she has saved the souls of exactly six people who would have otherwise been abandoned to the world's depravity. The thought of it makes her smile, a chilling curvature of her lips that lurks low and almost unseen behind the wavy curtain of her hair as she looks into her bag and runs a finger lovingly over the leather-bound book's spine. I'll make you proud, cousin.

The bar is more than a job, more than just a way to bring in a few extra dollars a night and keep the looming monster called tesserae at bay where it hovers oppressively over her and Aurora's heads. It's a hunting ground, a gathering place for lost souls that cry out collectively for absolution with careless prayers of slurred words and silent heartbreak. Really, Kiera's surprised that anyone in this district goes to these sorts of establishments anymore. Kaelen's two-year reign carved a trench of blood down the middle of District One's nightlife scene, and anyone who reads the papers can see that it isn't all that uncommon for someone to go out for a night on the town and never comes back. Those incidences aren't ones that Kiera could claim, however - she's painstakingly careful in her selection, always picking those who have no one, those that will go un-missed and unnoticed for a long time even after the water has washed away any evidence of Kiera's presence along with their transgressions. She sees the unspoken knowledge behind the printed words spied from across the kitchen table every morning as her father steadfastly skips over anything unpleasant in the paper, forever a self-blinded optimist who tries to bury the evils of the world rather than confront them. It's something that exists but no one wants to acknowledge - the Peacekeeping force will never admit to having another killer they can't catch, but the long lists of the missing and departed state otherwise. Someone else is out there in the bars, sharing in her work unbeknownst to everyone except Kiera. If she didn't know better she might think that Kaelen had figured out a way to dodge about the shadows and pick up where he left off, but it would be next to impossible with the whole District still on guard and she knows for certain that he'd never be foolish enough to try.

Who are you? she thinks to herself, oblivious to the bustling of others around her as the stage is set up for her and Ender's set. Orbs of analytical citrine flit over a sea of faces, skirting over the obvious visages of hopeless sinners and searching for an anonymous gaze that mirrors her own enlightenment. She certainly doesn't expect to find it in an identical amber glint from far across the room, a petite frame in a sinfully short dress with a dyed-bright shock of hair that is all too familiar.

"What the - oh, damn!" Kiera cuts herself off abruptly, ducking down as the unmistakable head of her youngest sister turns in her direction. With quicksilver speed and a panther's grace she dodges sharply to the side, yanking Ender's taller form in front of her as a makeshift human shield. "All right, change of plans. You're doing the set by yourself tonight. I don't expect you to share the tip money or anything, but I just saw my sister over there and I really don't feel like explaining why I'm not at home in bed right now."

Talking to Ender is rather like talking to a good-natured but still extremely dim child, and Kiera huffs irritably at the blank, confused look she gets in return. Being a self-made goddess of superior intelligence gets terribly trying when she lives in a world of complete idiots. Rolling her eyes, she shoves him off toward the stage with a murmured just go before slinking off to the smoke-screened shadows of the far corner and settling into a rickety chair, watching.

What business does Aurora have here? Going by her clothes and the heavy-handed makeup swathed along the planes of her face she could be yet another of the horde of abandoned souls that clog the bar's interior, but Kiera knows better. Aurora is as well-taught in the ways of righteousness as herself, they are pupils of the same teacher and the wisdom imparted to them is the kind that never dies. But that doesn't explain her presence here, and certainly doesn't explain the way she seems to be blithely tolerating the much older man sitting a little too close into her personal space. Whoever this girl with tight clothing and sultry eyes is, it's not the Aurora that she knows, shy and mousy and forever shielded behind mile-thick invisible walls. The Aurora she knows is smart, smart enough to not go lurking around bars and certainly smart enough to never get up and leave with a man twice her size with something distinctly unsavory lurking behind his gaze.

"What are you doing?" Kiera hisses even though the words fall only on her own ears, clambering out of her chair and darting across the bar to the same door her sister just left through. Remaining unseen is irrelevant now, not when Aurora's safety is clearly at risk. The cool chill of the night air hits her like a wave as soon as she's out of the bar's smoky embrace, eyes darting around the hopelessly empty streets before a familiar giggle sounds from around a shadowed corner. Cursing quietly under her breath, Kiera turns on her heel and starts down the alley, a lecture already forming in her mind. What were you thinking? This isn't you, I know it's not, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, imagine if he could see you right now - but she stops short, transfixed from her spot in the darkness by a sickening crunch and a sight she would have never expected to see.

Suddenly, it's all clear, becoming clearer with every wet-sounding thud and pitiful moan from the bludgeoned lump that must have looked human once. The short dress, the makeup, the strategic placement on the barstool. The knowledge that Aurora would never stoop to such depths accompanied by the fact that she was taught to fight by one who embodied deadly force itself. Her sister has made herself into the light of an angler fish, luring in the bottom feeders to their demise. Kiera smiles. The stories in the paper now have a name, and that name is Aurora Dempsey.

“I know you are there, so it's useless trying to hide anymore.” Such a timid voice for the embodiment of such ferocity. Aurora sounds almost-scared, the true nature of her consciousness hidden behind a carefully constructed veneer of that inherited Dempsey flat monotone. Still blinking slowly in half-surprise, Kiera emerges from her crook with her inherent feline agility crawling through her frame, looking from Aurora to the bloodied pulp of a thing on the ground before her nose wrinkles delicately with disgust.

"There are much... cleaner ways to go about it, you know," she drawls, nudging at the disfigured lump with the scuffed toe of her high top before looking back at the crimson-stained pallor of her sister's face. "Come here, you're a mess."

A brief scuffle through her purse rewards her with tissues and a small bottle of hand sanitizer, both of which she promptly puts to work dabbing away the rusty tint that mars Aurora's complexion. There's a gentleness to Kiera's touch that is rarer than a blue moon, something gentling and consoling and what might be considered affectionate (but never will be, her role as an avenging goddess fighting to rid the world of impurity leaves no room for affection) as she wipes away the stains of another's almost-sin. "I get what you're trying to do, but you've got to be more careful about it. Everyone saw you leave. This is good, though, Aurora. He'd be so proud of you."

And he would be. Kiera's certain of it.

Never mind what I said before
I don't want any less anymore
You are carbon and I'm the flame
I will rise and you will
Remain

Last Edit: Jun 14, 2012 14:53:40 GMT -5 by Deleted

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Incomplete && All Alone {South} Jun 14, 2012 14:21:47 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Jun 14, 2012 14:21:47 GMT -5

KIERA NIAMH DEMPSEY

If you were still around
You would tell me that you're sorry
But you don't know what you're sorry about
I'd keep to myself, keep you guessing
Make you question if it's ever gonna work itself out

"Why would I be disappointed?" Kiera asks, falling into step beside the youngest Dempsey and leaving the alley - and it's macabre contents, no one is around and the mess certainly won't be discovered until morning - behind. Her high tops scuff along the pavement in time with Aurora's carmine-spattered heels, the two of them passing through the darkness as nothing but graceful shadows occasionally brought into sharper relief as they pass beneath the guttering yellow circles of the faltering street lights. The air smells like impending rain and Kiera longs to stay outside, to let the coming downpour soak into her bones and impart words of wisdom, but it isn't prudent or safe to be on the streets after what she's just witnessed. With that thought she steers her sister down another alley almost identical to the one they just left, walking within the deeper shadows to the point they'd be invisible to the naked eye. "On the contrary, I'm proud of you. The only thing I'm disappointed in is your lack of planning and forethought. You can't just walk home along the main roads looking like that. Come on, this is the long way, but it's out of sight."

They move like fleeting spirits in the darkest part of the night, winding through a complicated maze of uneven back roads and dilapidated buildings. The poor side of town is a patchwork quilt of poverty and disrepair, a little faded and worn but still familiar enough to keep them warm at night. Kiera knows these streets like she knows the silver-blue paths of the veins in the back of her hand, was taught to memorize their twists and turns so she would be able to navigate them in a second's time. Always know your way out, cousin. No matter how careful you are, there will always come a time when you need to run. The words ring distantly in her ears on a memory of a cool tenor voice at odds with the baking summer heat, and Kiera's lips purse at the undeniable truth of them. Even Kaelen's time to run had come, delayed years by his intelligence and careful planning, but it had come nonetheless. Nothing he said to her had ever been untrue, a wisdom as good as gospel that guides her actions to this day, and she whispers a silent thank you to him that's caught on the wind as she and Aurora emerge from another shadowed path and find themselves in front of a familiar, rundown house with a sagging porch and paint peeling from the shutters. Home.

She scowls at the realization that the light in Moira's bedroom is still on, meaning her oldest sister is awake and would surely hear them coming up the stairs. It's not the first time this has happened, but it proves to be a monstrous inconvenience and Kiera wonders how Aurora would even manage in her tight-tight dress and impractical shoes. Grumbling vaguely about how Moira needs to stick to normal bedtimes, she plants a foot on the rickety porch swing and wraps delicate fingers around the edge of the gutter before vaulting in a practiced heels-over-head motion onto the roof of the porch, landing hard on her stomach with a muffled oof of discomfort (You're a right acrobat when you want to be, Kiera. Hone that skill, it's versatile and will probably come in handy sooner rather than later). The angle of her maneuver wasn't quite right and as a result her shoulder throbs quietly in protest, but Kiera grits her teeth against the discomfort and shuffles back to the edge of the roof, leaning over the lip to get an upside-down view of her sister and extending a hand to help her up. "Come on. If we talk in my room Moira could hear us through the air vent. It's safer up here."

Surprisingly enough, Aurora is agile even in the mile-high heels, barely needing any help to get up to the gently sloping plane of worn-down shingles herself and settling beside her without looking the least bit rumpled. That's something Kiera has always envied about her youngest sister, that sort of effortless flawlessness that comes in an inherent facade. One could look at her and think she was a Lightwood or a Moreno from her immaculate appearance, only the skinny state of her frame and the signature Dempsey amber-brown eyes marking her as another child of the slums. Rolling her shoulder in an effort to rid herself of the dull pain from her miscalculated flip, Kiera reaches into her bag with her free hand and withdraws the leather-bound pages from its depths, presenting it to Aurora with all the care of someone handling a holy relic.

"You aren't working alone," she whispers, eyes darting over the street below and the closed windows on either side of them in a paranoid effort to make sure they're not overheard. "Kae left me a job, too. Right here, on the last page of his journal."

She flips through countless entries of immaculate handwriting, each that she's read a hundred times over, spanning from Kaelen's tenth birthday all the way to his last day in One. Everything is archived there, every golden tidbit of wisdom, every piece of the thought process that paved his way to the height of divinity, and the story of every kill, starting with his father and ending with the last girl in the very bar Kiera and Aurora just left. She doesn't pause on these pages, though, sifting through the thin pages all the way to the final entry, not dated but bearing her name in large, neat letters across the top. Marking the place carefully, Kiera hands the book to her sister, watching in anticipatory glee as a black-lined set of tawny eyes identical to her own rake over the words. "I got curious, broke into the old house about two weeks after he left. There was a loose floorboard under his bed, and inside I found all this stuff he'd put there for me. The journal, the letter, all his poisons... it was all there, just waiting. He knew I'd come looking for it. Of course he did, he knew everything, and I think..."

A pause, careful pads of fingers brushing reverently over the indentations the pen made on the page. Kiera knows she'll never be what he was, never be as wise or great or infinitely omnipotent, but she can certainly try. Her gaze shoots up to the delicate planes of her sister's face, something inside her mind praying steadfastly for the knowledge that she's finally understood his implications correctly. "Your name's in the letter too, Aurora. I think he wanted us to work together."

(You're both powerful on your own. Never doubt yourselves. But together, the two of you have the potential to take the world by storm)

If you were still around I swear we would sit and stare, we would be nowhere
And to this day I look for what it's gonna take to just let things be
Still today, I wonder is it you or me who should feel guilty?
I'm pulling, I'm pushing, I'm putting it out of my mind
Thought that I had said goodbye