It all started with Ahmet Benici. The World's lead scientist published his findings that the laws that govern our world would change so drastically human life would not be possible. It was his findings that urged the U.S government to begin a secret project, Project New World. The purpose of this project was to save humanity from its impending doom. So I invite you visitor, whoever you are it doesn't really matter. Come, sit down at your keyboard and tell me, what role are you going to play in this story?
Setting
There are many rumors and stories to be told about the city of Chase. Stories and tales rise from the mysterious forest that borders its northern side. There's big talk of some government project happening on the other side, but no one can know for sure. The small town has a rather sparse population of 20,000 people and is kept isolated from its neighboring town by Wyers lake.
In terms of time, this site will follow real time to accommodate for the short life expectancies of compound patients. The current month is December, the year 2062.
Note: Please note this site is rated PG-13.
Disclaimer: All pictures and images on this site belong to their rightful owners. We do not and will not claim to own them. However the site plot and idea belongs to Time Lapse, please do not steal!
Since he'd gotten out of bed, Ephraim's day had been one horrible incident after the next. Was it because he played with the black cats? Was it Friday the thirteenth and somehow his luck had run out? Whatever the case might be, his day was nothing short of awful.
It had all begun after he'd left his Ward. Still a little sleep disoriented, he'd stumbled into a group of bickering girls. Of course it had been an accident but they had assured him he was just the person they wanted to see. At first he'd imagined he'd heard them wrong. A group of beautiful ladies wanted to see him? Clearly this was some elaborate trick, and after giving them his time he was aggressively accused of peeping on them in the shower! Ephraim had seen the female human body before - in biology class of course - and he had to admit, not that impressive. Why the hell would he waste his time with something as dull as that? Perhaps such comments he should have kept to himself and it earned him a good slap or two. The boy tried very politely to clear his name, convince them he'd only just gotten out of bed. He hadn't been in their shower room. But of course no one would believe it was Flint. Perfect Flint who never did anything wrong? Pff impossible. The world had this notion that because Ephraim was...questionable, he must be the 'bad' twin. That made Flint, who really wasn't an angel at all, a good twin capable of doing no wrongs. Though Ephraim couldn't see his brother taking any interest in peeping on the girl's either. After much pointless debate, the boy simple began to agree with everything the girls said. In the end women always tended to hear what they wanted anyway right? Why bother giving his side, the true side of the story when they would have none of it?
After being pushed around and roughed up by a bunch of girls, - a little humiliating but he didn't mind so much -, Ephraim slunk away to the dining hall. He could tolerate the physical abuse, it didn't bother him none. But contrary to the beliefs of many, the boy was rather sensitive and the verbal attack he'd received put him in a rather bad mood.
At breakfast he'd felt the need to lash out at somebody else which had only resulted in more trouble for him. A few punches here and there, his breakfast thrown on the floor before the guards dragged his assaulter away. Unfortunately there would be no breakfast for him as his therapist came to drag him away moments later. She wanted him to skip the rest of breakfast and his morning classes to do therapy. That was a hell of a long session, but unfortunately he had no choice.
The woman had always been kind, though distant, and had always provided him with a pen and pad of paper to draw while they talked. She found stimulating his artistic abilities helped him focus and open up more. He still never said more than a few words but that wasn't his problem. However upon entering the pastel colored office, he saw there was no drawing utensils waiting for him, and sat awkwardly on one of the bean bag chairs instead.
The woman explained she wanted to run a few tests which had been tedious and boring. At least a hundred times she must have informed him he needed to take the questions seriously. What the hell did she think he was doing? Just picking at random? Of course he was taking this seriously...sort of. But after she gathered his results and minutes later decided she had 'diagnosed him with severe depression and anxiety', he nearly flipped his lid.
She began to explain how this made him him, throwing around words like 'self-harm' and 'suicidal tendencies' as if she actually knew what she was talking about. She couldn't be farther from the truth. Ephraim prided himself in the fact that no one could really figure him out, but watching other people try and get it wrong was bloody infuriating. So he sat, clenching his jaw and glaring at her, his eyes black pits of anger. She asked if she had offended him and he rolled his eyes giving no verbal response. Not at all you fucking bitch. It seemed she then took it upon herself to diagnose his body language and tell him what he was feeling. As the therapy session drew to an end, Ephraim began to feel the burning desire to break...things. Everything in her office was so pretty and perfect...it wasn't when he'd finished. Flipping over tables, ripping things down from the walls, shattering picture frames and tearing up her entire folder about him made him only a little satisfied. Her frantic screaming had the guards running in seconds later. It wasn't like he was going to rape her. But if she didn't shut the hell up he might have stapled her lips together.
But before he could do anything at all the guards had pounced and his struggles were met with brute strength and violent assault. One of the guards grabbed him by the hair, slamming his head into the ground until all he could see were stars. Apparently if he was well enough to lash out at other people, the scientists later agreed he was clearly well enough to resume treatments. They had his whole evening and the next two days scheduled with tests as experiments. There was a short three hour recovery period before the schedule continued with more tests. In his state of semi-consciousness, the boy was looking forwards to it, but it did nothing to quell the rage elicited by the injustice he'd faced so far that day.
He was sent to his dorm to regain full awareness and was only permitted to leave during downtime. Grumpily the boy trudged along the compound searching for a place to just...be grumpy. He didn't feel like drawing, though several smeared ink designs already laced his arms. Playing games by himself was boring and he wouldn't test his luck with human interaction again. Instead of finding someone to mess with - he wanted to keep his strength up for the upcoming experiments - the boy trudged outside, finding himself alone in the outdoor ballroom.
Nobody came here, at least not that he was made aware of. And now that he was here, it was sure to remain isolated. Seating himself on the giant slab of marble, the boy sighed rubbing his aching sores and bruises. His head pounded a relentless rhythm and he rubbed his forehead gingerly. We're the guards trying to give him brain damage? Well, his therapist thought he was already 'mentally unstable'. What a little bitch. The fact she had the brass to tell him what he felt and why was just as infuriating as he recalled it the second time. But Ephraim wouldn't do anything to her, or the guards, the guy from the cafeteria or the group of girls from earlier. He would simply watch and wait. One day they would slip up. One day he would have them each figured out. And then, he would turn the tables, manipulating and antagonizing them to no end. Or, perhaps that was simply his rage talking.
A bad day for some, a somewhat decent day for Feral, surprisingly. After all the stuff he'd managed to endure, he was actually given a chance to go outside. Was it perhaps a way to make up for all of the experiments? Or better yet, was it an attempt to win over the beast, make him slightly more compliant? Well, he didn't know about that last bit but quite honestly could care less what the reasons were, just happy to be out and experience the 'fresh air' for a bit rather than the sterilized and stuffy environment that made up the rest of the Compound. It wasn't exactly as amazing as he imagined the real world would be, but it was appreciated nonetheless for what he could get. Still, just being out here just made him want to explore what the rest of the world must have been like. The faculty tried to convince them that this was all there was for them, but of course he didn't believe a word. He'd find out one day. He just had to wait, sadly. There were perks to having an ally to help you escape as well as it's many consequences. Patience was a virtue, one that he did not possess.
Obviously he wasn't completely free out here. Guards were of course on watch, patrolling the walls and ensuring none of the patients got too close. Not wanting his free time to be cut short, Feral was mindful to keep his distance, despite his curiosity, and simply roamed around the less populated areas and more importantly, the less monitored. Eventually he found his way into the ballroom area. It wasn't particularly the most exciting of places in his opinion, but it was at least desolate from what he could tell. Or was it?
He only passed the first pillar when the scent hit him. Not only did that mean he wasn't alone, but recognizing the particular scent, he knew it wasn't good company either. No, he certainly didn't need this sort of stress right now, knowing the boy would likely try to start something. He was well aware of his own temper, and knew that if it wasn't simply the boy antagonizing him, it would end with him losing it and likely being punished for attacking another patient. He should just turn and leave.... But, he wouldn't. He was dominant, of course. If anyone should leave, it should be the prick should he cause any trouble. So with that in mind, he stubbornly kept moving forward, choosing to mostly ignore the other teen as he found himself a spot to hide out against one of the pillars. He didn't know how much longer he had out here before the guards would fetch him again, but he wanted to make sure he enjoyed being outside for however long he had left.
Ferals' presence was unnoticed by Ephraim, at least for the first few minutes. Laying flat on his back, the boy stared at the sky, his calm gaze following the clouds as they drifted along. He wondered what kinds of things they had seen, the places they had been. I mean, of course, he knew clouds didn't actually work like that, but on a windy day they would travel farther than he ever would, they would come to places he'd never know.
Rolling onto his side, the boy grumbled grumpily to himself. He hated this place. He wanted to get out. Years of watching had led him to understand things, at least enough to know he'd probably never leave this place. Growing old wasn't an option, but he didn't want to die young. He wanted to know what was behind the gates that lay miles away. He'd never seen them for himself, apparently it wasn't allowed. Were they thick cement walls, or maybe a barb wired fence? Wouldn't it be so much easier if they could just...ride out on the clouds?
Reaching into his pocket, the man withdrew a black pen. He'd snagged it from his therapists office and the guards thankfully hadn't taken it away. Flicking off the cap with a 'pop', he watched it skitter across the marble slab before pushing up the sleeve of his sweater. His skin was already tattooed with several inked designed. A black serpent who looked as if it was rising out of his skin, teeth bared. A scrawny looking cat who bore an acute resemblance to one of the menagerie cats. There were several swirls and half-finished drawings but turning his arm over, there was a patch of skin that had yet to be marked.
With smooth, practiced strokes, the boy began to bring a landscape to life. Rocky mountains covered in the finest dust of now, the sun rising hazily behind their peaks as clouds began to drift across. Pressing the pen against his skin, he started suddenly glancing upwards. It was the boy from before. Feral.
Grumpily Ephraim looked down, finding the pen had leaked ink all over his arm, successfully marring his drawing. Smearing it with a fist, he shot Feral a cautious look. "Hey Pipsqueak, wanna dance?" Unfortunately his voice lacked the same taunting zest as before and was instead rather bland and just...dull.
Surprisingly enough, Feral had a semblance of peace for a moment or so, the boy seeming to be too distracted. Feral forgot that not everyone had the same senses as him, half expecting the boy to smell or at least hear him before trying to start something. Perhaps that was the only good perk about being a freak, being the only one with these abilities. At least as far as he was aware anyway. If only there were someone like him, maybe the poor sucker would get the brunt of all this attention the white coats were dealing him lately. All the more reason he needed to find a way out, before they ended up killing him in their research.
But those thoughts dropped when he heard the familiar voice, the boy seeming to have noticed him, unfortunately. Feral's brows furrowed, no doubt annoyed by the name-calling. But since the boy surprisingly lacked his usual jab behind those words, it didn't seem to set him off, at least not yet anyway. "Don't you fucking learn?" he growled, keeping his eyes off of him as he crossed his arms over his chest. He tried his best to ignore him still, staring up at the clouds instead that could almost put him in a trance. In rare moments, sometimes you could catch the beast smiling, clearly enjoying the outdoors. Of course that wouldn't be happening today, not with the other patient's presence.
Was there a chance they could ever get along? Probably not, at least Feral couldn't see it. The kid had something against him, it seemed, purposely trying to irritate him every time they encountered one another. Of course, today the kid seemed a little off, he realized faintly. Did he care enough to ask? No. But he hoped that whatever was bugging him would keep Ephraim off his back. If only. A guy could dream, right? "Leave me alone." he went on, not wanting the guy to ruin his faux moment of freedom.
Learn? Him? An uncharacteristic smirk leaped across the boy's face before he remembered his grumpy mood and returned to his sulking. He did learn, perhaps more than people realized, but he made no attempt to answer Feral's question, continuing to wipe the spilled ink. It smeared all over his fist instead and other than creating a messy black blotch that refused to come off his skin.
Contemplating drawing on the marble before him, Ephraim quickly thought better. That would count as vandalism wouldn't it? Besides, the marble floor already had so many veins and speckles of colors, telling his ink apart from the stone slab wouldn't be worth the effort. Feral's hostile but reasonable request earned him a quiet, "Okay," from Ephraim. He wouldn't bother him then, they would both...sulk.
True to his word, for the most part, Ephraim lapsed into silence. Sitting up cross legged, he lifted his other sleeve, searching for any area of skin large enough to do a decent drawing. Even upon rolling up his pant legs it became evident almost every inch of him was covered in ink. The scientists wouldn't be pleased and he didn't envy the hot bath they would likely subject him to before the experiments. He'd been thrown into one before, to 'purge' himself of the ink. They'd scrubbed his skin raw with bristly brushes, leaving it to burn and hurt before he was tossed straight into an experiment. There was no appreciation for his at, but what did he expect?
Gaze resting on Feral, the boy suddenly grew thoughtful. He probably had a lot of bare skin. The boy opened his mouth before closing it. There was no crafted way to ask what he wanted to say, so eventually he muttered, "Can I draw on you?"
Fortunately for the irritable Feral, Ephraim didn't seem too interested in messing with him today which was honestly rather surprising to the beast. Something must have been wrong then, but of course he didn't concern himself with it. If nothing else, he hoped this lasted. With the amount of shit he'd been putting up lately, the last thing he wanted was this ass making his day worse. So he gladly accepted the odd Ephraim's willingness to behave and for a while, he was starting to think things were going to go well and, admittedly, probably would have forgotten the boy was even there. All up until he spoke again, requesting something that had caught Feral off guard.
He looked his way then, brow quirked in questioning. Did he hear him right? He didn't seem too sure, but noting the pen in the boy's hand, it sure seemed that way. "Do you want to die?" he asks instead. It's not that he's averse to the idea, really. Not interested, but it wasn't necessarily the drawing part, but rather the idea of letting this kid get close enough to draw. Besides that, he didn't trust the fucker to not try something and in fact seemed very skeptical of his request, trying to think of a motive.
"What the hell you want to draw on me for?" he asks when he fails at figuring out the motive himself, not even sure why he's humoring him by still even talking about it. But Feral couldn't deny his curiosity. Sure, he'd seen the boy draw on himself plenty of times, even though he didn't quite understand the obsession, but it was even stranger to him for some reason that the teen wanted, no, that he even thought Feral would let him draw on him. Must have been sick in the head or something. It wasn't too unlikely, the white coats managing to brainwash patients rather often.
Ephraim lifted his gaze to Feral at the sharp question. Did he want to die? A slight smile caused the corners of his mouth to twitch and he shrugged as if to show he wasn't afraid of him. "Today, tomorrow, whatever works for you," He muttered, refraining the urge to roll his eyes. There was nothing Feral could do to him that hadn't already been done. Well...okay so killing him would be an exception, but Ephraim didn't even might the thought of death so much. He wasn't suicidal, contrary to what some may think, but he just...didn't really care one way or another. Life was hell. If death was hell, who really cared whether they were dead or alive?
He could understand the other boy's suspicion though he really wasn't going to do anything. Ephraim took his art seriously...mostly. It's not like he was going to waste his time drawing private parts all over Feral. The hostile question only had Ephraim push up his sleeve, once more revealing the inked designs that covered his skin. "No more room," he grunted.
But seriously, why the skepticism? What was he going to do, stab the other patient in the jugular?
He really shouldn't joke like that, especially when Feral was certainly the one who could keep up that threat. Well... Sort of. He could if the collar wasn't involved, of course, but sadly that wasn't the case. Still, he didn't seem to be too interested in following it up right now, content with keeping the distance between them and by extension, keep the guards off his ass. So the kid was safe, for now.
Feral looked back over to him though as he answered his question, looking over the new designs that laced his arm. "And that's my problem because...?" he shrugged. Not his fault the kid didn't have enough skin to satisfy his desire to draw. If anything, the only thing he could really do for the boy is give him less if he really wanted his help, though of course there was the option of him playing nice too, but the fact that the kid was expecting that result was ridiculous on it's own.
But, he had a feeling the kid wouldn't give up that easily. In fact he might find some other way to entertain himself if Feral didn't humor him. But did he really want to cooperate? Not really. "And if I say no?" he asks, mostly to reaffirm the fact the kid would probably not leave him alone even then.
He waits a couple more moments, seeming to be in thought. "What's in it for me?" he decided to go on. Other than a fake tattoo, of course, but that was hardly worth it in his mind. If nothing else, if he was going to play nice he'd have to make sure it was worth his while, though he doubted the boy could really offer much other than a headache.
[O.O.C: I apologize for my inconsistency with posting , I am making an effort to get replies up more often!]
Really, Feral was going to bribe him? It made sense I guess, Ephraim hadn't shown his worth in any way. Artistic designs weren't going to get them out of the compound. Detailed maps and sharp observational skills however just might. But Ephraim, who was blissfully unaware of what Feral and the Shield were planning behind closed doors. If he did know, he probably wouldn't have approached Feral so carelessly.
As the boy proved to be nothing but hostile and selfish, Ephraim frowned. "Well it's not your problem," the boy grumbled quietly, lowering his sleeve. He was just asking, did the other kid have to be so selfish? Whatever. As Feral seemed to be open to making some sort of deal in hopes of gaining something, a smirk leaped to his lips. The boy seemed so far to have a trend of toying with the freak and then lapsing into his normal self again. "I could make you taller?" He suggested lightly if only to get a rise out of the other boy.
Ephraim wasn't interested in getting beat up for once -not before his experiments- but he'd only known interaction in the form of antagonizing others, something he was apparently quite good at given the number of bruises he'd received in the single day.
He kind of walked right into that one... But that didn't make the insult sting any less, Feral grinding his teeth, a rather angry expression on his face. He was fully prepared to cross over there and break the fucker's legs, even starting to as he pushed himself off the pillar. But... Mindful of his limited freedom, he managed to stop himself before he'd end up doing something he regretted, though barely. "Fuck off, shithead." he snarled.
Well. There went any chances it'd seem, Feral fully pushing himself off the pillar and aiming to get a bit more distance, for both of their sakes. The longer he looked at him, the more he wanted to beat him up, and if he fell to temptation, he could kiss his day outside goodbye. No, he had enough sense to try and walk away, though he didn't go far, adamant that it wasn't Ephraim who should be leaving. But he knew better than to outright demand it. The shit would purposely stick around to piss him off, he was sure. Best to just try and keep his mouth shut.
"I might be shorter than you but I can still kick your ass." he felt the need to defend, failing at that keeping his mouth shut plan almost immediately. Yeah... His being short was a sensitive topic. He felt like people didn't take him as seriously as they should, which was certainly a dangerous game to play with a beast like him.
Watching Feral with a wary gaze, Ephraim sighed. He was surprised the freak was showing such restraint. Did it simply take physical contact like the other day to set him off? Though, since their incident in the hallway, Ephraim hadn't seen Feral, even when he'd been looking for him. It was as if the freak had dropped off the radar for a few days. He could only assume it meant isolation or perhaps the white coats had been running some experiments? Though Feral seemed the type who wouldn't be so docile after being poked and prodded.
Eyes narrowed in thought, Ephraim followed the freak's movements. Was he worried the boy would spill his guts onto the marble floor? Not really, though he was intrigued by him to say the least. Who wouldn't be? He was a freak after all. As Feral resorted to calling him names, Ephraim arched a brow. "It's not nice to call people names Pipsqueak," he mused just loud enough for the other boy to hear.
Pulling up his sleeve, Ephraim set to redecorating a drawing he'd already long completed. There was no real pleasure in simply adding to the shading or slipping in a few dots and small designs here and there.
He'd been under the impression that Feral had left, but when he heard the boy's voice, he looked up quickly. Kick his ass? "You certainly could at that height." It wasn't really a taunt, it was a mere observation anyone with an ocular aptitude could see.
Not nice to call people names? That was rich, coming from Ephraim. Of course Feral wasn't really laughing. In fact he kind of looked on the verge of lashing out as he continued to insist on calling him Pipsqueak. It wasn't even the name itself, merely the fact that the boy was using it to try and antagonize him. And fucking hell, it was working. But he continued to show mild restraint, telling himself to ignore him as he glared forward, no longer seeming to enjoy being outside as much. This kid just completely ruined it, it seemed.
Just to prove that fact, Feral seemed to finally have enough when Ephraim spoke again. It wasn't even spiteful this time, but already on edge, it seemed to do the trick. He didn't need this guy's sass, which he made obvious by storming over. If his growls didn't alert the boy to his movement's, the kick to his back certainly would have, the force enough to push the kid forward and land him on his face. And right when he was in the middle of drawing too! Feral didn't appear to be too concerned with that, more eager to shut this prick up
"I am not in the mood for you to fuck with me." he snarled as he shoved his foot right into Ephraim's back, between his shoulders to keep him down. He'd been dealing with white coats almost non-stop for the last couple of days and already rather frustrated with that, he didn't need anything else to stress him out. "I may not be able to get my hands on them, but I can definitely fuck you up." Oh yes, he had enough pent up rage from dealing with the dreaded Dr. Benici. He'd happily take it all out on this poor kid. And with no guards seemingly around, he could probably get away with it too.
Ephraim grunted as the freak sent him sprawling. He'd heard his rather vocal approach, but why run? If he really wanted to, the other freak could catch him easily. Withholding a whimper as Feral practically stomped on him, Ephraim pouted. So Feral was allowed to call him names, but as soon as Ephraim did it wasn't okay? Well, he supposed that's how things worked. The man with the bigger stick always made the rules. Of course, in this particular situation...Ephraim chuckled, his use of analogy didn't seem quite...accurate? The stable patient was smart enough my to vocalize his silent joke, if only for the desire to keep his 'equipment' intact.
As Ephraim's pen skidded away from him, the boy made a desperate reach for it, failing to snag it in time. He opened his mouth to ask rather politely if Feral would pass him his pen when the boy continued to rant. Struggling beneath his foot only maximized the pain which Ephraim currently wasn't in the mood for. The whitecoats would surely hurt him enough and if he let Feral do a number on him now, he'd likely pass out during his treatment and then what a waste! So in a failing attempt to save himself, he fell limp between the freak, eyes fluttering shut as he felt the cold marble touch his forehead. His voice was muffled from where he spoke, though it probably didn't matter what he said at this point. "I can see you're a little more worked up than usual, although I believe the technical term is called being an ass," he muttered beneath his breath. "Want to talk about it?"
Had he just offered they sit and chit chat about their problems like a bunch of girls? Quite aware the boy was on the verge of ripping his head off, Ephraim in his misery was trying to worm his way out of the situation. Of course, the freak didn't want to talk to him. Who did? And rightly so considering in his time at the Compound, Ephraim had worked hard to piss off a lot of people. Torn between saving himself for later and falling into the tempting lure of adrenaline that now filled his veins, Ephraim tried to turn himself on his back, hoping to brush Feral's foot aside so he could at least face the freak.
Rather than fight him, the boy actually fell limp and Feral had indeed noticed. He was much like a bear in that regard. Play dead and he'd eventually lose interest. Of course he didn't relent just yet, his foot still firmly placed against his back to prevent him from getting up and to stomp down and potentially damage his spine if he made a wrong move. Would he get in trouble for permanently damaging a patient? Most likely. Would it be worth it? Hell yeah! But, for now, he simply glared down at him. Still plenty pissed, but also rather curious.
Eventually he opened his mouth again and Feral put more pressure on his back while giving a growl in warning. Did this kid really want to test him? Feral could sense some hesitation, which made it all the more confusing to him, but it didn't matter if Ephraim didn't watch himself. Feral was certainly the last person you wanted to annoy, especially if you expected to get away with it.
To make matters worse, he'd offered to talk about it and Feral actually scoffed. Intentional or not, Feral would not so gently help him turn around, lifting his foot off of him long enough to kick him in the side and roll him over. "I'd rather rip out your tongue." he mutters, which might not be that empty of a threat. If anyone was capable, it'd probably be him. Implying he'd even consider talking about his problems, he still wouldn't see the point in it. Talking wouldn't do anything. Escaping was the only solution. And with this unwanted attention from the white coats, he figured getting out would be far more difficult.
He left Ephraim's side long enough to step over to where the pen had rolled off to, retrieving it. Did he plan on returning it? Nope. Instead he kept it in his hand as he continued to glare down at the boy on the ground. "What the fuck's your problem anyway?" he asks, though it's hard to tell if it were a genuine question or not. He wasn't an idiot, he knew something was off about the other teen, though he was still struggling to decide whether it was a good thing or not. He lacked his usual energy, for sure, but even then he somehow managed to piss him off. At least he didn't get bitten this time. Of course there was still plenty of time to change that.
As Feral's foot suddenly came away, Ephraim heaved a sigh of really. Finally, that was over. Perhaps is half-genuine offer to talk had disgusted the boy enough to leave? Nope! Only seconds later Ephraim realized how wrong he was. The boy had been just about to turn himself over when he received a sharp boot to the side. Pain exploded relentlessly across his ribs, sending a rush of warmth coursing through him. The weaker boy yelped, rolling onto his back without much of a choice. That hurt. But was he complaining? No. In the end, he simply gave up trying to keep himself in one piece, it seemed the other freak was too far gone to reason with anyways.
Why try and play nice when even his most generous attempts were shot down with a snarl? Of course, Ephraim hadn't really tried to make Feral like him, not only was the task daunting and near impossible, it didn't interest him. He had only tried perhaps to appease the freak which in the end hadn't gone so well either.
But rip out his tongue? Well that was very nice and all, but had Feral really stopped to consider how much worse he would be without it? Random fits of indiscernible gibberish would irk just about anyone after some time, no? This time, Ephraim kept his thoughts to himself, barely keeping himself from muttering a much wanted 'go ahead.'
But as Feral suddenly picked up his pen, Ephraim's demeanor changed in an instant. He stared at the freak with round pleading eyes as if the boy was a dementor about to crush his entire world. "I'msorryIwontpickonyouanymore. Canipleasehavemypenback?" Ephraim's words tumbled out in a rushed whisper. After his map drawing incident many years ago, the faculty had been very careful to monitor any drawing utensils he had. They always took them away before he reached his Ward and never let him hold onto them outside of any 'uncontrolled' environments. But that pen, the one in Feral's hands he had managed to keep without their knowledge. And while Ephraim had no intention of drawing any more maps like they had originally feared, he didn't want to lose the only thing he could really call 'his'.
, I am making an effort to get replies up more often!]