Moonlit Anguish (Open)

[kej]

The small figure lay in the bed in silent terror, the sheets pulled up to just below the eyes, concealing the rest of his body, his small frame quivering, awaiting the inevitable. It was like this every night; he told him he would get used to it; he told him it would eventually get better; but it never did. It always felt the same, that same feeling of helplessness; he was just a child; dependent, fragile, and at one point, innocent. The door to his bedroom creaked, causing a quiet whimper to escape past his thin lips. A silhouette -- the silhouette entered the room, and began making its way toward him. Stripping the child of his sheets, the silhouette, now revealed as a man, clasped a single hand over the child's mouth, "Shut up, do you want everybody else to wake up? Do you know what will happen if they do?" he growled, the figure beneath trembling in fear, hot tears falling from his eyes and onto the white sheets. The man removed his hand from the child's mouth, running it through his (the child) hair in a perverse manner, "You know, you're as cute as a little girl, you know that? I would be certain you were one if it weren't for this," the man said menacingly, his free hand trailing down the boy's body until he reached below his belt; that's when he attempted to let out a scream, but nothing came out. Now he was choking; he couldn't let out a scream or take a breath. He was suffocating.

---

Matt's eyes opened abruptly to a dark, unfamiliar room; his bedsheets were haphazardly tossed onto the floor in a white heap. As he reached out to grasp the sheets he clumsily toppled to the floor in a heap similar to what he was trying to grab. There was a slight thud as he hit the ground and he simply groaned, reaching around for the covers that kept him warm in his semi-nude state; that's when he noticed something strange. Pulling his hand away from the sheet, he stared in horror at the red hand print present on the once pristine sheet. He was afraid to look down at his hands as he already knew what he would see; it has haunted him many times before. "Why? Why did you kill mama and brother?" Matt's head snapped up, only to see his sister's pained face,

"I-I-I had to! They just watched, th-they let it happen!" he screamed,

"That's no excuse. What am I supposed to do now? You were the only one I had, and you abandoned me."

"N-no! I'm right here! See?" his hands reached for the illusion, only to pass through it as it faded away into nothing. "See, I'm right here, right here..." he paused, the sound of something dripping onto the floor catching his attention. His hands, now in plain sight, were dripping; dripping blood. Those hands began shaking violently as Matt struggled to turn them, only to see in his palms a pool of blood. The amount of blood increased drastically, now spilling instead of dripping from his hands. Unsteadily rising from the floor he stumbled around, the blood now pouring everywhere; it stained the floor, the walls, the ceiling, and then, he saw his salvation -- a few feet from his stood a vanity. Letting out an anguished scream he lunged at the mirror with his left hand, smashing it to bits. Matt collapsed onto the floor in pained moans, holding his left wrist with his right hand; looking at his hand he still saw blood, but his own. His face cracked into a grin as he lay on the cold floor, a few shards of the broken mirror scattered around him. The fist continued to leak blood onto the floor, and Matt, realizing it was in his best interest, picked himself up off the floor and made his way to the bathroom to clean and dress his fresh wound.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Matt glanced toward the digital clock placed on the nightstand adjacent to his bed, "What... 12:09 AM?" Unfamiliar with this new system of telling time he began rummaging through the single suitcase he brought along with him to the U.S., grabbing a beige hoody and his worn-out converse sneakers, not feeling the need for socks -- or pants, for that matter. He stuffed one last thing, his smokes and a lighter (okay, two) in his hoody pocket, and clad only in a hoody, sneakers, and a pair of black silk boxers, he left his temporary residence, locking the door behind him as he proceeded to exit the hotel.

As he left the hotel he was greeting by the chilly midnight air nipping at his bare calves. Pulling his hood up, he began taking a stroll down the empty streets, the glaring light of numerous street lamps guiding him. In the distance he heard a sound all too familiar to him; the sound of waves crashing against the shore. The speed of his walk increased, and eventually, the further he walked down the street, the more evident the scent of the ocean was, as well as the soothing melody of the waves. Soon, another sense was appeased as the white sands and dark blue ocean came into view -- not that colour mattered much to this particular individual. And, soon after another sense was gratified as he removed his shoes; the loose, grainy sand was eventually replaced by the wet, caked sand, and that replaced by the cool, soothing sensation of the water. Pulling out a smoke, Matt placed it between his somewhat pouted lips and lit it, inhaling the sweet tobacco and grape flavour. Blowing out the cancer-inducing smoke, he watched it rise into the dark night sky before disappearing. At the moment it was just him and the moon, which was looking down upon him, illuminating him, caressing him with it's soft, gentle glow as he sat on the shore, letting the alleviating waves wash over his bare feet.

[Kazuki Akimoto]

Light footsteps flicked through the sand, the paces quick and rhythmic as he jogged slowly across the damp sand from where the tide had gradually receded, leaving firm sand without the hindrance of the water soaking his running shoes. The late evening was a fine time to take a long run like this, he had found, what with the lights from the beach-side streets and houses illuminating most of the main stretch, he could come out here at pretty much any time of the night and still have enough light to run without any troubles.

So far, he'd run at least a good three or four miles, effectively lapping a track along the sand so as not to stray too far from his vehicle, and was on one of the 'return' trips towards the more frequented section of the beach. What would usually be filled with bodies lounging in the sun, tossing a ball around or whatever, was currently empty.

At least, on his last lap around, it had been. He didn't particularly mind when he bumped into someone, after all it was a public beach, and more often than not it was someone walking their dog, or some kids out for a late-night walk. As such, he paid no heed as he passed the smoking youth a few minutes after spotting the silhouette from a distance, jogging past him completely for another fifty feet or so, coming to a slow stop. Sighing slowly, his breath picking a little at the crisp air, the night cool and breezy considering how close they were to the water, he turned and looked for the small pile of stones he'd left as a marker so he knew which of the upturns to the parking lots he needed.

Glancing up at the smoking youth, however, his eyebrow flicked up momentarily. Whilst he was entirely sure that someone could just want to come down to the beach, he caught himself landing a double-take at the young...man?

'Either the most effeminate guy I've seen since Roccos last date or a girl in need of some beauty tips...'

The scent of smoke caught his nose, but it wasn't like regular cigarette smoke, it was almost...fruity, somehow. Likely a flavoured brand, but considering he'd been looking toward the youth for a little longer than would be deemed normal, he figured he was best off speaking so as not to appear out of place by just watching them.

"A nice evening, wouldn't you agree....?"

Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out a small, battered packet of cigarettes, the same one he'd held for close to three months considering his sporadic smoking habits, but the scent that had caught his senses had revived the latent craving, as it tended to do. One of those habits, he admitted, that he would likely never completely quit. He still enjoyed the occasional one, and as it were, he retrieved one from the packet. As he made his way up towards his car, searching in his pocket for a lighter, he paused, patting down his other pockets before sighing to himself.

'You'd think after smoking for years I'd stop forgetting to pick up a lighter...'

Returning back onto the main body of sand, he approached the lone smoker as he spoke to them, raising an arm as if he needed to indicate it was him talking....

"Hey! You got a light I could use, must have forgotten to pick one up...."

He maintained a short distance from him, close to five or six metres at the moment, in the chance that his presence wasn't wanted. If that were the case, he could always stop and pick up a book of matches from the hotel nearby, but as it stood, he was fairly sure the stranger wasn't about to deny a fellow smoker a simple request. His cigarette was in plain sight in his left hand, the way he stood completely relaxed and unthreatening.

[kej]

Examining his bandaged hand, he wondered why it always ended up like this; had he thought he could actually get a good nights sleep? Of course he did, but as usual he was wrong. Continuously turning his hand to examine the wraps that prevented him from bleeding to death, he felt a sense of regret has the vast, beautiful ocean was displayed before him, its waves lapping onto the shore and wetting his feet. He sighed a bit, thinking, "Well, I could always come back when it's healed; it's not like the ocean is going to go anywhere." Taking another drag from his cig he attempted to form rings of smoke, a skill he has not yet perfected, the randomly shaped clouds being evidence of this. Sighing, he used his right hand to blindly feel the dry sand around him, looking for a rock to toss into the water. Before he could find one, however, he was greeted by a voice behind him, ""A nice evening, wouldn't you agree....?" Matt turned to look at the individual who was obviously speaking to him as he was the only other person on the beach, and nodded his head once, as if to greet him. He didn't understand what he had said, and remained wary of his body language to determine whether he was hostile or not. People you meet late at night aren't always the friendliest of the bunch.

The man began walking away, but soon turned and began heading back toward Matt. Being cautious he stood up, ready to jet if anything he discerned as threatening occurred. "Hey! You got a light I could use, must have forgotten to pick one up...." the man had his armed raised and kept a bit of distance, as if he, too, was being cautious. Noticing the unlit smoke in the man's hand, Matt figured out what he was probably asking for. Pulling the imitation zippo out of his hoody pocket, he walked toward the man, his arm extended in a friendly gesture, offering the lighter to the other smoker.

[Kazuki Akimoto]

Taking a few steps forward at the returned, outstretched offer of a lighter, he approached slowly before reaching his arm out and loosely plucking the small device from the youths fingers with a small nod and a muffled 'thanks' as the cigarette was placed between his lips. Shielding the flame from the breeze, he sparked the lighter and took a few short, sudden puffs on the cigarette, lighting it as quickly as he could in the wind before taking a few more steps forward, leaving himself standing at one side of the youth.

Handing the lighter back, a short, curt smile on his face, his eyes flicked down to the bandaged hand a moment with the briefest interlude of query entering his mind. Choosing, rather, to not question the situation was a much more favourable solution for him, and he saved any remark or question for his own mind to ponder over. As it were, he was still uncertain if this was actually a male or not...The beach was lit up, of course, but it was hardly floodlights, for the most part things were silhouetted, and whilst he had reasonable certainty it was a guy, he was not about to question the matter at risk of offending the youth. Instead, he simply stood, his free arm against his side with the hand drumming against the lining of his pocket as the other held the cigarette from his lips between drags. The silence was marred by the steady churn of the water against the sand, a smooth and rythmic sound that served to put the Asian at ease, his attention barely leaving the horizon line, lit up by the moon, as his mind wandered.

But then, to simply say nothing else would be quite rude...

"I come here because it's quiet at night, I can run without much distraction or anything...In my line of work, you need to find that solitude once in a while...."

A smirk crept onto his lips as he turned his head, barely enough to shift one eyes attention toward the youth. "So...What's your excuse?", he added with a touch of a lighter tone in his words, the smile evident even if his face wasn't fully visible.

[kej]

The man accepted the lighter from Matt's hands, giving him a subtle nod and mumbling a word he assumed meant he was giving him his appreciation. He watched as the man brought the smoke to his lips, lighting it with the aid of his hand to prevent the cool sea breeze from putting the flame out. After his cigarette was lit he stepped toward Matt, standing beside him and returning his lighter, a small smile present on his face. His gaze followed the man's as it briefly glanced at his injured hand, an inquisitive look crossing his face for moment before disappearing, but he paid it no mind; people were often curious, and he didn't mind it. Matthieu and the man stood on the beach in silence, each of them taking occasional drags on their cancer sticks as the sound of the ocean crashing against the sandy shore soothed his mind; he enjoyed the silence, and never found it to be uncomfortable as a lot of people did. His fellow smoker then spoke up, "I come here because it's quiet at night, I can run without much distraction or anything...In my line of work, you need to find that solitude once in a while...." Matt turned his head to face him, as if he understood what he had just said, but that was not the case. The man cracked another smiled and looked toward the younger man, another sentence leaving his lips, "So...What's your excuse?"

He looked away from the man for a moment, scrunching his face up in an attempt to decipher what the man had just said. Bringing up his right hand he relieved an imaginary itch on his nose, then popped his cigarillo into his mouth, taking a long drag. Needless to say, he was stumped; he didn't even know why he tried to translate within his head, it was pointless as his knowledge of the English language is fairly low. Matt turned back toward his new found acquaintance, an idea coming to him as he did so. First, he pointed to his lips, then shrugged, trying to tell the man that he didn't understand English. "I... cannot..."struggling with the new, unfamiliar words he decided to drop it; his thick accent was evident, and the other would probably figure out soon enough. Taking the one in whatever chance that this man would understand him, he decided to respond in his native language, "Je ne comprends pas l'anglais, parlez-vous français?"

[OOC: Translates to "I don't understand English, do you speak French?"]

[Kazuki Akimoto]

ooc: Due to laziness and whatnot, I'll use asterisks to mark out differentiated language.

ic:

A brief moment of perplexed puzzlement arrived on the Asian males face as the other of the two, quickly being deduced as a male, spoke. The accent and manner of speaking was clearly someone whose grasp on English was weak at best, but a moment later, when the young man pressed forward in a foreign language, Taiku smiled with a knowing expression at him. French, whilst not the best of his languages, was one he could converse fairly well in. For the most part, at least, so long as the complexity didn't grow too high. Chuckling a little, he gave a short nod.

*"Yes, I speak some French. Let me try that again...."*

Taking a long drag on the cigarette, the plume of smoke lingering at his lips before it was sucked down, he blew it casually out the side of his mouth as he carried on. Piecing together the words in his head with reflexive speed, his eyes flickering in his head before he began to speak.

*"I said, 'I come here because it's quiet at night, I can run without much distraction or anything...In my line of work, you need to find that solitude once in a while....'"*

The last of the plume was blown away, the wind catching it and lifting it up as he continued to speak, using the brief pauses to word the phrases together in his head carefully, seeking to avoid grammatical errors, *"So...What's your excuse?"*, the same smirk on his face as he'd maintained before. It had been a long while since he'd had anyone who spoke French to converse with, and whilst he was careful to avoid misinterpretation, he was actually somewhat keen to practice the language. As he cast a mildly expectant glance toward the youth, his eyes seemed for the most part indifferent as he looked out over the water and towards the bridge, the spirals of smoke from the cigarette rising in long, smooth plumes that caught the breeze just past his shoulder, after his body stopped blocking the wind in between puffs.

Squatting down, he set his free hand back to catch the sand, supporting his downward path before leaning forward, resting his free arm over his knees with a loose sigh...He had just been on something of a long run...

[kej]

Following Matt's sentence the other man smiled, that smile growing into a small chuckle before he nodded his head, and responded, much to Matt's surprise and delight, in French. Before his next sentence the Asian man took a long pull from the object between his fingers, blowing out a haze of tobacco smoke that hung in the air momentarily before the cool sea breeze carried it away. He noticed the unusual 'flare', or American accent the man had in his French; even though they were speaking the same language it was so different. If he ever learned English it would be along the same lines; he'd have a very distinct manner of speech, even though they were speaking the same language. As Matthieu took a drag, the man continued to speak; he was a bit excited as he hadn't expected to find someone who understood French, let alone so soon in this foreign territory. The man ended with, *"So...What's your excuse?"

"Mon excuse?" he replied with, taking another drag from his cigarillo as he walked a few steps toward the shore where he had previously been, taking a seat and wriggling his toes in the moist sand as the salty waves lapped up against his feet. Matt took another pull, trying to prevent himself from dumping a whole load of French onto the man; it could wait, and he didn't want to seem desperate. He examined his left hand, turning it to view both the palm and the fist, both which have been wrapped in bandages, and turned his neck to look at the man, who seemed to follow suit by squatting down into a more relaxed position. "Rien, vraiment. Je ne pourrais pas dormir, cela est tout," he muttered, his quiet voice nearly inaudible against the sound of the waves. Clearing his throat, his next sentence came out unhindered, "Quel est votre nom? Le mien est Sieghardt," following the sentence he dropped onto his back, falling into a totally prone position, then took another drag of the sweet mixture of artificial flavouring and tobacco, occasionally glancing towards the other man, awaiting a response.

[OOC: Respectively, "My excuse?", "Nothing, really. I couldn't sleep, that's all.", "What's your name? Mine is Sieghardt."]

[Kazuki Akimoto]

Leaning back further into the sand, shifting his back slowly to displace the sand enough for an indent to form, he sighed a slow breath as he set the cigarette between his lips. The air was cooler now than it had been earlier, far cooler, and he relished the feeling as he slumped back into the sand. Glancing a little to his side as the French youth responded, he nodded slowly in understanding, both of the language and the reason.

*"Understandable, I guess."*

He left the conversation hanging a few moments as he smoked a little more of the cigarette, blowing the plume of smoke into the air above him before he answered a few moments later, turning his head a little.

*"I'm Taiku. It's good to meet you, Seighardt."*

Frankly, he found himself with little to say at the moment, instead quite content to simply lay on the sand and just relax for the moment. His cigarette was burning down to nothing, and after another couple of short, quick drags, he stubbed it into the sand beside him, burying a small handful over to cover it. Thinking twice about it a moment, he reached for his pack again and fished another out, setting it between his lips but not lighting it just yet.

*"I'll take a wild stab in the dark you're new to San Francisco. So, what brought you here?"*

[kej]

*"I'm Taiku. It's good to meet you, Seighardt."*

"Taiku; strange name, wonder where he's from," taking a final pull from his cigarillo he pinched the butt of it between his thumb and forefinger, flicking it into the distance. He sighed and turned to look at Taiku, seeing that he, too had finished with his smoke; he pulled another out after he had finished getting rid of the one he just had, placing it between his lips. He was about to dig into his pocket to grab the lighter when the man began to speak, *"I'll take a wild stab in the dark you're new to San Francisco. So, what brought you here?"* Matt looked away as a grimace crossed his face, recalling exactly what had caused him to be here. His eyes closed as he relaxed, tracing circles into the moist sand with the index finger of his right hand; he was also dwelling on story he could tell Taiku. "Ah... problèmes de famille. Je pensais à rechercher un travail demain ainsi je pourrais me permettre mon propre endroit, envoie alors à ma petite soeur un billet d'avion pour venir resident avec moi," he said, opening his eyes to look at the light-polluted sky, one not much different from back home. Looking towards the slightly older man, he continued, "Bien que, il soit difficile ici quand vous ne pouvez pas parler anglais bien."

[OOC: "Ah... family issues. I was thinking of getting a job tomorrow so I could afford my own place, then send my sister a plane ticket to come live with me.", "Though, it's difficult here when you can't speak english well."]

[Kazuki Akimoto]

At a familiar reason, his head nodded in both genuine and ulterior understanding...A lot of people he met tended to have 'family problems', and he knew all too well by now to simply take it as a valid reason, nod and move on. Whatever the kids reasoning was, it was his own in this regard and he was no longer about to pry. Taking the unlit cigarette from between his lips, idly turning it between his fingers lightly, twirling it like a baton, only far slower.

*"I'm not gonna lie to you, if your English is as bad as you make it out to be, you're going to have some troubles finding work as anything that pays more than the flat minimum rate...It was hard going for me when I came to America, I was in your predicament...Young Japanese guy, spoke barely a dozen words of English, hell...I washed dishes for close to a year before I was able to get anything better..."*

His hand reached over in a silent request for the lighter, and after lighting and taking the first quick drag from the cigarette, he handed it back as he lay in silent thought for a few moments...

'If I'd been in this kids place back then, I'd have killed for a chance to get set up...The question is whether or not it'd be a worthy investment to take the risk on him....If his English isn't the best, he'll basically end up doing the same crap I got stuck with for ages...'

Folding his free arm behind his head, idly drumming his fingers against the back of his skull, he came to a decision mentally.

*"Living arrangements-wise, the school you're likely to end up attending, Hircine, has places you'd be able to stay for the time being. For the time being, I might be able to help you out with finding some work at a better wage than you'll likely get anywhere else. If you like the gig, when you hit eighteen I'll....put in a good word for you about some bar-work..."*

Not quite about to just blurt out 'Hey! I own a club!' to a random stranger, at least not at this current moment, he figured the offer being made at least was a good place to establish a base of character for the youth. Depending on how he chose to react to the offer, it would be the offer that could get this kid on his feet in America...

[kej]

Matthieu and Taiku lay on the sand in silence as the older man nodded his head, a look of empathy present on his face. He plucked the cigarette from his lips and began playing with it, twirling between his fingers before breaking the silence, *"I'm not gonna lie to you... (cont.)"* Taiku's hand was extended toward him, and he already knew what he needed; tossing him the lighter, Matt used the short intermission granted to them to dwell on what he had just said. "So, Taiku is a Japanese name; interesting. And apparently he was in the same situation as I am right now. He doesn't have a negative air about him, and he speaks French. Hell, what were the chances of me meeting this guy? It feels like there are strings attached; it sounds too good to be true."

Following his thought Taiku had returned to Matt his lighter and began smoking his cigarette, seemingly lingering in thought as he did so. He did the same, returning his attention to the night sky, searching for the stars which were far and few. The Japanese man began speaking again, now about school and living quarters. So far, it sounded good, but it was about to get better; when Taiku mentioned being able to assist him in obtaining work Matt's ears perked up, his attention averting from the sky and to the other man, the usual indifference present in his eyes being replaced by eagerness and hunger; he strove for a better life for him and sister, one not tainted by such damaging experiences. Hell, he could put his insomnia to use.

"Êtes-vous sérieux? Ce serait excellent!" Matt paused in thought for a moment before continuing again, "Je n'ai pas des moyens du contact, ainsi comment restons-nous en contact? J'apprécie vraiment ceci, aidant quelqu'un vous vous êtes juste réuni et tous."

[OOC: "Are you serious? That's great!", "I don't have any means of contact, so how do we stay in touch? I really appreciate this, helping somebody you just met and all."]

[Kazuki Akimoto]

ooc: Sorry for the delay on this one, dude. I've been busy with birthday stuff, it seems.

ic:

The almost unavoidable perk of Matts head at the offer of work was completely noticed and though he didn't turn to the young Frenchman at the moment, his eyes were watching calmly from the corner of his field of vision. The prospect at hand was one he had every intention of pursuing, considering there was never any harm in an extra hand at work. but he had to pause a moment and catch the youths excitable words as he replied. Closing his eyes a moment, the cigarette set between his lips as he pushed himself from his back into a sitting position, he finally offered a response as he took the half-smoked cigarette from his lips.

*"Yes, I'm serious. As far as contact goes, just look for a club called 'Legion'. If you show up there tomorrow, ask for a lady named Rene, she'll help you out from there. As for myself, however, I should probably be making some kind of return. My room-mates are probably wondering why I've not woken them up yet...I'll see you later, Matt. It was nice meeting you, and I'll probably bump into you sooner or later..."*

His tone was light and with a hint of amusement in his words, but as he went to walk away, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder, the smile clear on his face this time.

*"As for helping someone I just met...I just know how it feels to be where you are in life right now. I'll catch you around, Matt..."*

The sound of his feet sifting through the sand slowly as he paced his way up the beach toward the street was joined by a small raise of his hand as he walked off, a single, two-fingered salute as he made his way up and towards his car. The kid would have the luckiest break of his life tomorrow, and whilst he was in a good mood as it was, this was nothing to what was in store for him...

After all, he thought, Dain Gavyns had been put through a rather unorthodox test himself, why not put the kid through his paces, see if he can hack it early...?

[kej]

[OOC: Maybe I should just start calling my character Sieg instead of Matt, since it seems to cause confusion, hehe.]

"Legion," he muttered under his breath, taking in the Asian man's words as he continued to speak, taking note of important words like 'Legion' and 'Rene'. Taiku began to rise from his position on the sand, ashes from his half-smoked cigarette blowing away with the breeze. Sieg continued to watch the man as he turned to leave, but he stopped and turned to look at him over his shoulder, *"As for helping someone I just met...I just know how it feels to be where you are in life right now. I'll catch you around, Matt..."* Taiku restarted his walk away from the beach and up to the street, his hand raised in a two-finger salute. Sieg twisted his face slightly at the gesture, putting his bandaged hand in the same salute, studying the strange sign. He would yell out some departing words as the other man was some distance away, but he decided against it as it was late at night. The French youth looked to the sky and closed his eyes, allowing his sense of smell, sound, and touch prevail, the beach being able to appease his senses and soothe him. In such a serene environment, coupled with the recent events, Sieg, for the first time in a long while, smiled; not the smirk of relief that was on his face earlier in his room, but a genuine smile. He would lay there for a few moments, wiggling his toes in the moist sand as the tide licked at his feet, before getting up and returning to the hotel.