Beauty is only skin deep(Semper)

Lieutenant DiNiro Richter

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We were running a bit low on money; there was no doubt about it. I was actually the one that suggested taking a few of our taxidermies downtown and setting them up at a stand in the hopes of selling a few to those rich enough to buy one. So we put up a few in a cart and dragged them down to the District Square, setting them up in a booth. That was early morning and we haven’t had any business. Well, I lied – someone did stop buy and bought a little squirrel I had done, but that was it. Not enough to buy food for a while. If this keeps up then we’ll surely have to go on another grave robbing trip.

With a sigh I got out of my chair, muttering to Brig that I was going to get food for us. I didn’t wait for a reply before disappearing into the large crowd, shouldering my way through and trying to make it across the Square. Some people snapped rude remarks at me, saying that I needed to watch where I was going, so I just ducked my head and hurried on, refusing to look at them or anything. This one elderly lady that I passed barked at me for getting too close to her cane, to which I nearly jumped three feet away, startled. District One isn’t the nicest place, there’s no doubt about that; and as I hurried away from her, I heard her mutter something about “damn teenagers.”

But halfway across the Square, there was a flower booth. Stopping, I quickly looked back and saw that there was no way for Brig to know that I was here, so I decided to stop and take a look.

They had flowers of nearly every color: red, blue, purple, white, yellow, and so on. A smile crossed my face as I ran my fingertips lightly across a bed of yellow flowers, their soft petals swishing around my fingers. These would make a good addition to my garden. I moved on to examine a pot of orange flowers, bent down and sniffed them. They held a wonderful scent, and it reminded me of something…. something that I couldn’t quite place my finger on…

A rather snarky voice sounds loudly behind me. I whirl around, startled, seeing this girl. At first she asked me to move, but then she says that the flowers won’t help me look any better. Is she calling me ugly?[/color] I stare at her, bewildered and not moving. ”Um…” I glance around us, unfortunately not seeing anywhere else she could go. ”I’m not here because the flowers will make me ‘look’ better and I don’t think they’ll make you look any better with that attitude showing.”

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Lieutenant DiNiro Richter

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Annastasia Glory? No wonder her last name is Glory. I haven’t even known this girl for three minutes and already I’m put off by her. Her sense of self-image just makes me want to snap at her, but if I do then she’ll come back with a hot retort and I really don’t do so well with arguing. Brig knows – Ripred only knows how many times he’s had to save me from getting either verbally or physically assaulted. While I sort of think that I can take on this girl, should the need for physical intervention arise, but that still doesn’t give me enough courage to be snarky back. My heart is beginning to race and I quickly look back at the flowers, almost hoping that if I look away long enough then she’ll be gone.

I run my fingertips along the petals again, focusing on their softness as opposed to Annastasia’s bitterness. This isn’t her flower shop, so why can’t I stay here? I grumble quietly to myself, making sure that my back is turned to her as I make grimacing faces while mocking her. Who does she think she is? If I had said anything like that when I was still with my father, he would have stomped my face into the dirt. I shiver at the thought of him, sticking my hands again in the flower petals to distract myself. It’s because of him that I have such a hard time defending myself, even against this arrogant girl. Even though she’s smaller, I’m sure that if she raised her hand to even pretend to strike me I’d be on the floor cowering. Am I really that weak? Yes, yes I am. Years and years of brutal punishments has brought me to it. He would probably beat me now too for even thinking that I’d get my butt kicked by her. That’s not manly! That’s not like me! That’s not what I would do! In a way, Annastasia is like my dad: they both think that everyone is lesser than them. They think they’re the high and mighty ones that rule with an iron fist.

The girl starts up again, asking things like why haven’t I moved yet and how I’m blocking her admiration. I turn my head slightly and glare at her from the corner of my eye, my jaw setting as thoughts began to run through my mind. Is Annastasia one to hit back? She certainly talks back, but will she get physical? So far all that I’ve gotten her to do is argue, and while I don’t like arguing either, I’d much rather do that than be pummeled with fists and feet. She is sitting down, also, so even if she tried anything I would have the upper hand. I hope.

”I haven’t left because I don’t have to?” My tone indicates that I really can’t believe why she’s asking me to leave. I’m not going to leave just because I’m ruining her ‘atmosphere.’ ”My bland self?” Really? ”Well sorry princess, I’m not going to move just because I ‘take away from your beauty.’ I have just as much right to be here as you do so don’t you be telling me to bugger off.” I sternly glare at her for a few more moments before once again turning my back, silently praying that she doesn’t strike out at me because really, how embarrassing would that be for me? "Why don't you just go find somewhere else to be an attention whore?"

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((Sassy!Lou xDD ))

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Lieutenant DiNiro Richter

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This girl is making me mad. Who in the right mind would think this way? Actually I don’t think she’s in the right mind at all. I’ve known absolutely no one – not even those bullies in grade school – to be so vain and conceited about themselves that they would shove others out of the same vicinity as them just so they could bask in their own glory. Part of me just wants to hit her; smack her upside the head and hopefully knock some sense into her. But it’s hard to do that with people like her since they have incredibly thick skulls. I’m sure that if I dropped a brick from a building top onto her head it wouldn’t even crack her skull. She is just so incredibly dense.

Once again her voice squeals. The sound is so irritating that I visibly flinch away from her, leaning toward the comfort of the flowers. If anything, absolutely everything about her screamed “attention whore.” Who else would force me away so people could see her with flowers? Who would call me “wrong” for standing in a flower shop? This Annastasia, that’s who; she gets up from the fountain which I guess is her “bring it on” stance, like how a dog’s fur bristles before a fight starts. I can’t fight her.[/color] So far I’m holding my own against her verbal assaults, but as soon as the fists start flying I’ll surrender. I learned to not fight a long time ago, back when I was kept basically as a prisoner of the house. I was beaten down so many times because I fought back that even the thought of me raising fists makes me really anxious. But I can’t let her see that, no; I’m not going to let her know that if a fight breaks out between us I’ll be the certain loser.

I keep my body facing the flowers, listening to her rant. ”No, I’m not going to go away,” I state as firmly as I can, casting a sideways glare at her. ”You have absolutely no right to force me out of the shop unless you’re the shop owner, which you’re not. And yes, actually, it’s wrong for you to want this badly for people to notice how ‘beautiful’ you are.” I’m still trying to at least appear as if I can hold my ground but I’m no good at insulting people. ”You know, you’re being really rude and… and obnoxious, you know that?” Oh no, I’m at the bottom of my barrel of insults. I jab a finger in her direction. ”You know what, I’ll stay here and ruin your image all I want. You are incredibly shallow because you’re trying to shove people out of the shop just so you can have your petty, selfish image be as pristine as you can make it. People shouldn’t give you what you want because while you may be good looking, you have a rotten ego and a really terrible personality. You get out, Annastasia.” I drawl on her name as if it’s a sour taste on my tongue, eyeing her icily.

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Lieutenant DiNiro Richter

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After my spiel I turn my attention back to the pot of daisies in front of me. Their petals held a vibrant yellow that actually was maybe a bit too lively for the chilly weather. All the leaves on the trees are either dead or fallen and suddenly there’s this little yellow flower. I guess that’s how Annastasia sees herself: in the midst of this dull and lifeless district, she thinks she’s the yellow daisy; the life of One; the only valuable thing when compared the “barbarian” Careers. Though I will admit that some Careers – particularly the ones that bullied me – really are barbaric and don’t give any consideration to anyone. In that particular case then I do agree that even Annastasia has one up on them. Those certain Careers deserve something heinous to happen to them.

I stroke the petals gently just as I usually do and then I hear a shriek. My head starts to turn and then suddenly I feel an enormous weight on my back, along with pulling and yanking and clawing. It takes me a frightful moment to realize it’s Annastasia, and then I really begin to panic. All I did was refuse to move so flowers could surround her and now she’s attacking me. I nearly jump a good foot in the air, my arms reaching up and bending back as I blindly grope behind me, trying to get a fistful of her wretched dress in order to yank her off. I feel her claws nails digging into my skin through my shirt and it hurts, it really does hurt. I scratch and tug at her, starting to lose my balance with all her extra weight on me.

And then she’s off. She doesn’t look as disheveled as I feel and frankly that upsets me. ”What the hell is wrong with you?!” My voice is raised with anger and the remnants of terror. Annastasia doesn’t hesitate to tell me how wrong I am about all of this. Apparently, not only am I the hunted but I am also ugly. I never really cared too much about my outward appearance but as soon as the words slip from her mouth I can’t help but stop in my tracks. It shouldn’t mean anything, especially coming from her, but it does. She’s already toyed with my emotions and I’m not about to let her take it any further.

”No, I am not leaving.” I state as firmly as I can, fists shaking and clenching at my sides. ”You’re just babbling and being senseless now. You need to learn that things aren’t all about you, Annastasia Glory.” Her name once again rolls off my tongue like a sour, nasty taste. And then, without even thinking, I quickly approach her and lash out my hands to shove her backwards if I can – I hope so, at least.

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Lieutenant DiNiro Richter

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The one time I ever lashed out at a person, it was at my father. He found out that I was toying around with flowers once again and so obviously that had to be stopped. I wasn’t acting like a mirror image of him, as he had always said. ”Act like me! You have to carry on the Richter name in my image!” He didn’t care for any of the little floral arrangements that I had secretly given to my mother, or even Brig – Brig even accepted every flower I gave to him, though I don’t think he really likes them. But he doesn’t hit me for it, he doesn’t scold me, he doesn’t beat me down and scream that I’m “ruining” him by being “feminine.” That was one of dad’s key points: me being “girly.” He always said that only girls liked flowers and therefore I was a girl – not only that, but I was gay. He didn’t use the term in the ways that everyone else did when they described someone that liked people of their own gender. No, he used it to call me stupid, idiotic, worthless, insignificant and inferior.

And as I watch Annastasia fall in a swirl of brown hair and fire-colored dress material, I can’t help but feel superior.

I shoved her, I caused her to fall into the fountain with a large splash. People turn their heads at the sound and I can’t imagine what they’re thinking when they see me standing alone and the waves of the fountain sloshing up against and over the stone sides. My hands are balled into tight fists at my sides and my grey-blue are narrowed angrily onto the sopping wet figure that rises from the water. I watch her face and it twists into an emotion I know very well: embarrassment. She puts her face in her hands and I can see her body shaking as she begins to cry.

The superior feeling quickly vanishes and I suddenly don’t feel so high and mighty anymore. Didn’t I just do unto her the same repulsive acts that I wish were never done to me? I embarrassed her just as my dad did to me whenever I brought home flowers or played around in a little patch of wildflowers behind the house. I’ve just gone against everything I ever despised and suddenly, in a spurt of rage, I became my dad.

Suddenly guilt overwhelms me and I find myself jumping over the stone wall and dropping into the fountain, ignoring that my shoes and jeans are now completely soaked. I quickly make my way over to her, worry and an apologetic tone coloring my voice. ”I’m so sorry, Annastasia, I-I didn’t mean to do that! I was just… just mad, is all. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you somehow, just name it and I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

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Lieutenant DiNiro Richter

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I feel incredibly guilty. I’ve just done things that I swore I’d never do to anyone, so what does that make me? A hypocrite? No I’m not a hypocrite! I quickly extend my hand to help her up and she accepts it, standing back up. She’s absolutely drenched, that beautiful dress of hers just hanging off her body like extra skin. That fiery personality of hers has just been extinguished and I feel awful about it. She leans forward and I automatically flinch away, expecting her to strike me since I’m so close, but all she says is that she needs dry clothes. I have absolutely no money on me so there’s really no place to go other than home.

I step out of the fountain and duck away from the eyes of the onlookers, leading Annastasia along the roads I’ve taken oh so many times.

Frankly I don’t know what to expect from her. She’s so beaten down all of a sudden and as I let her into the taxidermy shop, part of me thinks that she’ll turn right around and leave, saying that all of the creations are gross. She doesn’t run, though; she walks right through and follows me upstairs, where I then pick out a few of my clothes for her. I don’t think anything will really fit her, so I just try to get the smallest ones I can find and take them back down to her, a little red-faced as I hand them over. I point in the direction of the bathroom and she slips away, her dulled fiery dress trailing behind her.

I go and sit on the little couch, waiting for her to come out. I feel rather ashamed, but all with good reason for the hypocrisy thing. My gaze falls onto a little squirrel/bat taxidermy creation that Brig created seated right on a small round table in front of the sofa. Brig.[/color] I miss him. I don’t know where he is – it worries me. The one person I thought I could always count on is suddenly gone, leaving me to dry out on the hot rocks. I pull my knees up to my chest, looking somberly at the squirrel with bat wings and fangs.

Annastasia comes out of the bathroom sometime later and I see her smile at me – wait, a smile?[/color] She isn’t hitting me, spitting fire, lunging with tweezers or anything – she’s just smiling. And then she speaks, saying that I didn’t have to help her.

All I can really do is just look at her. She actually looks normal in my clothes instead of that fiery dress. Her ego seems to have deflated, too; I can’t really believe what she’s telling me. I wasn’t going to laugh at her, not like what those bullies did to me.[/color] I glance away from her, suddenly too embarrassed to look at her. ”Lou. My name’s Lou.” I answer quietly. ”I-I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” For a second I think she’s going to grab the collar of my shirt and put a threatening shove behind her demand but she doesn’t. I hesitantly look up at her, my knees still up against my chest as kind of like a defense mechanism. ”Why don’t you want anyone to know you ‘have a heart?’ I thought that was a good thing, having one of those.”

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Lieutenant DiNiro Richter

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Usually I don’t mind the silence but with Annastasia I just can’t stand it. She’s not replying to my question so I’m stuck in a limbo. What’s going on through her head? Why is she looking around so much? I shift uncomfortably on the couch, focusing my attention back on the bat squirrel.

Thoughts cross through my head: is this what it’s like to be alone with a girl? I like girls, don’t I? I should because I’m not gay. Was this how dad felt when he first met mom? I don’t think he was this nervous or anxious – he probably was thinking about how he could rape her, in all honesty. He was just that kind of guy and still is. Though frankly I hope he’s dead by now. Mom deserves to be with someone better, someone that treats her right after all that hell he put her through. Suddenly I don’t feel very comfortable next to this girl. She may have suddenly shown me her soft side but I don’t trust her.

Nothing lasts forever and we mourn the loss. Those words stick out, taking up quite a bit of space in my mind. They remind me of Brig and how he’s suddenly turned his back to me, which still hurts quite a bit. When I turn to look at her and she moves her hair aside to reveal a burn that I hadn’t seen before and it suddenly all makes sense. I may not approve of her acting superior to others, but now I understand why wanted to be with the flowers. A pang of guilt once again hits me for pushing her into the fountain. I figure it’s kind of like how I like to be around plants: I love to cultivate and garden to make myself feel better, she surrounds herself with beautiful things to forget her past. Just like I’m trying to do.

Then the understanding is gone and I quickly put on a failure of a defensive face. ”I can take care of myself, thank you.” I don’t need anyone to look after me, and anyway Brig does that already – whenever he’s actually here, that is. I feel my cheek burn red. ”It’s not like I’m going to get myself into a gang war mess I can’t handle.” I purse my lips together after I mumble, feeling more like a pet in her eyes than an actual human being.

Instead of remaining under her pet owner-like words, I get up and take a few steps away from the couch, motioning for her to follow. Without glancing back I head toward the end of the hall and turn into my room, open the closet door, and pull on a string that lets down an extendable ladder from the roof. I climb up the rungs and open the hatch, crawling up onto the roof that’s covered in all my plants. ”You surround yourself with beautiful things, so, here you go.” Still kneeling down, I gesture toward the rows of plants with my hand.
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