For The Second \Rose\ :Cass:

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SinInChaos
Merchant

195 POSTS
last seen Dec 29, 2012 23:10:22 GMT -5

Like a sir, bitch!

For The Second \Rose\ :Cass: Nov 26, 2012 2:09:28 GMT -5

Post by SinInChaos on Nov 26, 2012 2:09:28 GMT -5

Going along, Collecting wishes
Drunk off of Jealousy
With a Glass that's Never Empty

This is my Only Remorse

When he is
“When he speaks”
When he thinks
What others are

The king was still alone as the prince seemed to have been lost. There was no trace of the young popper, the boy who could easily usurp Fuchou. And that just had him worried. The prince could be raising an army to take down the king, or muster enough strength to kill the king himself. The prince would be willing to do that too, Fuchou was sure. The prince would be willing to do anything. Oh brother, where are you? He sighs, and in a moment of frustration, the king strikes his kingdom, letting the walls shake across his palm. He let the world shatter against his skin and rain on the ground around him. The king could do such things anyways. This was his world to control, do with it what he will. The king was the Alpha and the Omega. Others would bend to my will, as would he. He grabs the prince's photo, takes a piece of paper and a pen with him, and lets himself go from the castle to meet the subjects. Maybe today would be a different day.

The streets were the first place that Fuchou had hit, acting like a soldier instead of a king. Looking for missing royalty. It should not have been his job but the job of the actual guard. The Peacekeepers must be looking for the boy instead of the king. He hated that they just stood about and did nothing though. Nothing at all. They're even worse than he was. Father never spent a moment looking for him when he went off somewhere, or even worried about Chato when the boy went out. Instead, the old king just sat about himself crying over the lose of the queen. Who needed a queen when you had a kingdom? The king almost chuckles to himself thinking about the girls that wanted his hand. Why should Fuchou even offer such a thing? The girls weren't what Fuchou wanted. The king needed to find the second prince.

The man screams his name
The land stills the voice

He again won't stop, won't stop searching for the boy that had vanished before him. Fuchou had to find his brother. The king would stop another, asking, “Have you seen my brother?” But nothing came of it. The people always spoke the same, that Chato had never been around, as though the boy had never even existed. Chato was just gone. Fuchou hadn't hoped for any of this in the past. Fuchou just wanted to kill his brother, all by himself. That's what he wanted. Was that too much to ask? That way the other boy would never beat him, make it farther. He was going to slay the prince one day, listen to the blade cut across his face. The king had to handle his own enemies, anyways, because there wasn't a chance the guards would kill Chato. No, Fuchou had to kill the prince.

His heart skips a beat when the king finds a friend of Chato. It didn't lead anywhere, since the friend didn't know where the prince vanished to, but Fuchou was glad someone recognized the prince. The friend spoke of the day before, how he had seen Chato outside with other people. How the prince was just fine. Then why had the prince left his king? The lands would demand blood. A sacrifice would be made by the end of all this. And whether it be the king or the prince Though it would be the prince... the blood would be given. Too much has been asked for Fuchou. He must appease those thoughts, the family, give them back an heir.

“Fucking Chato... I'm tired of this shit already.”

He looks up at a sign post, a place full of drunken fools and drinks. Commonly called a bar, but to a king, this was his subjects pub. A gathering place for all sorts, filled with different kinds of information. The dirty and dark gather at night and, just by luck, Fuchou had come at night. The king would able to question the subjects. Why haven't I been here before? I should have... Fuchou knew it was risky though, being around this many adults, hung up on alcohol. They would probably not recognize a king if they saw one. Instead, he would just be seen as a blur, a peasant at most.

This was the best chance though and Fuchou was going to take it. He walked in, looking at the strange faces and the sloppy messes. People didn't seem about keeping the place clean. It was just a place of merriment and disaster rolled up in a ball. The people were just like the place too, running around with smiles on their faces and starting random fights. This wasn't a place for a king. Maybe this is why I haven't been here. He doesn't care. He combs his fingers through his hair and sits at the counter, looking at the barkeep. He knew he was going to be able to stay. The king looked older than he was, old enough to stay in places like this. But he had to worry, still, what if he was going to get into a bar fight with someone here? He would be forced to leave, not able to get any information.

“Can I 'elp you with somethin' kid?”
Guess I don't look as old as I want to.

His eyes look up to meet the bartender, who's got a glazed over look. No doubt he's trying his own liquor. The king must tread carefully now, because if he gets caught now, Fuchou would be kicked out. People around the king's age weren't allowed to be in such places since it meant trouble for the barkeep. If one drink even entered Fuchou, it would be the Peacekeepers filling this palce. Too young to be an adult, too old to be a child. The king chuckles, blows a strand of hair out of his eyes, and slides the photo of Chato across the counter. He lets the man get a good look before speaking.

“Have you seen him?” he asks, sympathetically. Everyone likes it when you sound worried. “He's my younger brother and I'm worried about him.”

He looks up to Fuchou again, then back at the picture as though he's trying to remember something. Maybe it's the drinks or something, but the man is holding something back. He knows something. “Nah, I'm,” He stops to hiccup before talking again, “I haven't seen a thing.”

“Well, thanks anyway,” as though he were a big help to the king. But the king must continue on and figure out where his brother is.

Back out in the world, back out in the unforgiving atmosphere that won't tell where the prince has run off to. Fuchou is just a lost boy. Just a king who doesn't understand his crown. He combs his hair again, leaning back on a lamp-post. He won't stand anything anymore. The king will find the other, the one who was out for a throne in this world. Nothing can stop the king. Or so he keeps telling himself over and over again. The world is telling him something different. I can't find him, can I?

The king grabs at his knees and pulls them to his face, letting the tears roll.
Where is Chato Where is Chato Where is Chato Where is Chato Where is Chato Where is Chato Where is Chato

WHERE IS CHATO!?

[/blockquote][/justify]

Last Edit: Nov 26, 2012 2:18:46 GMT -5 by SinInChaos

Credit to Charity

cass
Retired Staff

4,822 POSTS

last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

For The Second \Rose\ :Cass: Dec 4, 2012 5:44:50 GMT -5

Post by cass on Dec 4, 2012 5:44:50 GMT -5

Define your meaning of war
To me it's what we do when we're bored
And even on my own,
I feel the heat coming off of the blacktop
And it makes me want it more

There are many things that a man strives for in life, there are many goals that he will try to reach. Without a reason to do anything in a lifetime, there is simply no reason to live. Most of those long awaited achievements are gained through honesty and honour, but some men, men like Altair Melnont knew no honour. They were men driven by want, greed and power, a primal instinct to do better, and in that way they saw doing their best as cheating, using sly, cunning techniques to defeat all their opponents. They knew no charisma or honesty; they were deceitful, lying men. The type of men that always won, they always were the victors, and no one beat them, because no one played the same way as they did. It was always a game of double-crossing, but the person that one double crossed the most times. You had to know your opponent; you had to remain unknown to them.

Altair was unknown; no one knew him, and those that did never spoke of him in any other way then bright, cheerful, friendly and trustworthy. Those that dared breath an evil word of him were quickly silenced, their informers destroyed and removed before it got out. He never won fairly, but he never lost. He was a man that got what he wanted when he wanted, he went to every extreme possible. He cheated his way to the top, with sly cunning words, manipulative tricks and murder, kidnapping and rape. He knew all the tricks in the book; he knew how to get people to trust him with a few words. Altair knew what made people tick, he knew how to read a person like an open book, a book of flesh bone and blood and each word that escaped another’s lips told him a whole story.

People where easy to read, they were easy to trap and control, you just needed to know how. And Altair was the master of it.

Not only did he know how to use his sly tactics to gain person’s trust, but he also looked like a trustworthy person. There was more than knowing how to play a game. Anyone can play a game if they know the rules, but it takes precision and practice to be able to win and beat the best. It is another thing to be the best. And each time you play a game you have to learn, each time you learn you have to find new ways of winning. People will always try to outsmart you; they will try using your own tactics and rules against you. You have to be smart to live. And in the game that he played you had to be a guy that people trusted.

He strides. His long legs stretching with each step, he was a modest man, and even though he hated to brag and tell others about himself he knew how to look impressive. He held his head high, a thick mop of wavy black hair dripped down his face. At times he would make a sweeping gesture with a big hand to move it out of his way. When he did this he revealed warm, friendly brown eyes. They were not cold, icy or scary; they were anything, but that. And it was that very fact that made him more dangerous than any person could say. He was not a man that looked evil. He looked like a person that anyone would trust with a first glance.

Most people did.

[/color][/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

Because I'm hyped up, outta control
If it's a fight I'm ready to go
I wouldn't put my money on the other guy
If you know what I know that I know
It's been a long time coming

He was a man that carried an air of subdued power, there was strength hidden beneath the layers of well stylised clothing and friendly glances. He was young and strong, powerful in body as well in mind; he was well-fed and had the bodily appearance of an ex-career. One of those kids unlucky enough to never reach the big game. Unlike some ex-careers he had continued his training after reaching eighteen years old; he trained daily, unwilling to let his body go to waste. Altair had been like any child in district two. He wanted power, he wanted glory and there was no better way than getting into the games.

He had trained hours on and with every weapon possible, he had learned skills of the art of fighting before he was four. His parents had been harsh, but fair and each year he had almost begged the gods to let it be his name. His parents made sure he would always be ready to volunteer, but he was in a district where the young boys drooled over glory, there was always someone faster than him. And after his eighteen birthday he was no longer able to enter it, it destroyed him for some time before he meet Bone Kelt. The boy was big and brawny, a bully, dumb and witless, but smart in the areas that Altair needed him to be.

They built a game, every month he would send two kids into a mock arena, in front of a specially chosen audience, and audience that were sworn into secrecy and sometimes beaten and bashed for even saying a word about it. There they betted on two children fighting, where he could watch and sometimes join into a game he had always wanted to be in. However, in the game he was God, he was the ruler, the law maker and the leader. He loved it. He loved the fighting, the blood and the gore and the old burnt down mansion out in the far side of the district was just perfect for everything he had needed. He had run the games for four years now, about a hundred kids, streets rats, loners, homeless kids had died and right now he had eight in his cells. He was always looking for more.

A boy.

He sat hunched over on the side of the street. His legs drawn up to his chest, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He looked ragged, like a street rat, one of those beggars, the type if kid that he wanted. Hard on the outside, but oh so vulnerable. The perfect type of kid for his business. Just what he was looking for. His eyes lifted in triumph as he took in the sad boy. Forcing a concerned look onto his face he padded over to the young boy, gracefully he lowered himself down beside him, he turned his head to face him, giving the thing all his attention.
"You alright, boy? What's wrong? You look awfully sad fella. Ya'know, I know the best thing to make someone happy." Attention, care and worry, they were the first things you needed to show someone you cared. The first steps to gaining someones trust.

Then after that it all fell into place and you snagged them, they were yours.

[/justify]

And the tables' turned around
Cause one of us is goin'
One of us is goin' down
If you know what I know that I know
I'm not running, it's a little different now

ooc -- [ omg sorry it isn't coded, I just wanted to get it up for you ]

Cause one of us is goin'
One of us is goin' down
Define your meaning of fun
To me it's when we're getting done
feel the heat coming off of the blacktop

Last Edit: Dec 15, 2012 20:52:25 GMT -5 by cass