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 Posted: Tue Nov 29, 2011 7:47 pm
 open houseAn open house. :V
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Posted: Tue Nov 29, 2011 7:48 pm
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Posted: Tue Nov 29, 2011 7:50 pm
 i've got a secretWest has some feelings.
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Posted: Tue Nov 29, 2011 7:52 pm
 round twoRemember that tricksy ghoul? She has a bucket of water now. Levi: 2; West: 0.
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Posted: Tue Nov 29, 2011 7:57 pm
 an exam to rememberJingleberry? cry
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Posted: Tue Nov 29, 2011 8:04 pm
 promQuite possibly the most embarrassing night of West's life so far.
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Posted: Tue Feb 14, 2012 1:02 pm
 the floresctivalBarth and Mandy campaign for Student Council. West does a really, really poor job as their bouncer.
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Posted: Tue Feb 14, 2012 1:04 pm
 riley and west visit the pumpkin patchIt is a learning experience.
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Posted: Tue Feb 14, 2012 1:24 pm
 company on the reboundCalder is feeling lonely, and nothing cures loneliness like a good marking.
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Posted: Tue Feb 14, 2012 1:25 pm
 shiny thingsWest gives Yaya his pin. Awkwardly.
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Posted: Sat Feb 18, 2012 11:12 am
vacation: the carriage
West was anything but an early riser. It was true he had started going for jogs some mornings, but never before the sun came up. In spite of this, today he was outside well before the dingy light of day had brightened the horizon, waiting on the outskirts of campus for one of the three Warrick family carriages to pick him up. Each carriage had its own driver. He could usually tell how a trip home was going to go by the one his father sent to retrieve him.
Orann, the driver of the first carriage, was an affable beast who had long ago been tricked into entering into a fairly one-sided contract with Duran, West's father. The details of their deal had been withheld from the boil, but its terms had kept Orann in the family's debt for as long as West could remember. It was too bad his father would never send the monster. If he ever did, West was fairly certain brain damage would be involved.
Kestraub was an eerily silent witch, a pretty young lady who believed that she had nowhere else to go after Zira had released her from the family's service. She was sure her own family was dead, and since no one had lifted a finger to find the missing reapers, with the Warricks she stayed. Kestraub rarely spoke, but that wasn't really a problem. West just liked to look at her. There was no way his father would send his second carriage either.
No, West was more than certain that the driver that would be picking him up would be none other than Dighra, creepy oracle demon. He had been working for the Warricks for even longer than Orann, and West was pretty sure there had never been any sort of contract involved. Dighra had a touch of real precognitive ability, just enough to make him seem loopier than most. Instead of just making up horrible stories about what might happen, Dig would rattle off the things he actually saw when he looked at you, whether you wanted him to or not. Some of the stuff he said came true, though usually not in the ways you might have hoped. Dighra made West uncomfortable. The truths the demon spoke were never things he wanted to hear.
The shriek of rusted metal wheels broke through the early morning silence as West's carriage finally approached. The monstrosity ground to a halt right in front of him, and a cloaked figure hopped down out of the driver's seat to take his bag.
"It's comin' for ya, kid," Dighra said, his glowing grin the only part of his face immediately visible from under the hood. "Love."
West sighed. "Whatever y'say, old man."
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Posted: Sat Feb 18, 2012 11:13 am
vacation: the house
The Warrick manse was almost always silent on approach. There were no warm voices seeping through the cracks around the front door, no bustling sounds denoting activities that were going on just out of sight, simply cold, numb silence. West knew it was because the foyer and main hall were only ever occupied when someone passed through them on the way to another room, but that didn't make the long walk up the drive any more welcoming. An outsider might have thought the place was abandoned if it hadn't been so well kept.
Dighra had gone mute after his ambiguous greeting, and oddly enough, that put West even more on edge than listening to the old demon's usual ramblings. Rather than deal with the situation any longer than he had to, West had elected to carry his own bag up to the house, leaving the carriage at the front door. He knocked. There was no answer.
His key was buried under several layers of t-shirts and school books, but eventually he fished it out and unlocked the door with a sigh. It turned out that in this particular case, the house was as silent on the inside as it had been from the drive. West didn't bother shouting for his parents. He already knew they wouldn't be there to welcome him home.
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Posted: Sat Feb 18, 2012 11:14 am
vacation: the ex
The next morning, West rose with the pumpkin sun. He had fallen asleep uncharacteristically early the night before, with no one around to keep him awake, but this morning the house was bustling with servants once again. West wondered if everyone had truly been gone when he had arrived, or if his father had dropped a metric asston of silver on some sort of Welcome Home, You're Alone and Nobody Cares illusionary charm designed to blanket the entire household. West wouldn't have put it past him.
He swept into the kitchen and over to the refrigerator, unconsciously registering the fact that there were other demons in the room, but failing to take the time to notice who they were. He retrieved a small plastic bottle of orange juice from the fridge and took a swig. It often seemed as though his mother went out of her way to be as wasteful as possible, ordering as many tiny, single serving products from the grocery store as she could, so whenever he was here, West drank his juice from containers that looked like he had lifted them from a pack of scurvy-conscious gnomes.
"Give your mother a kiss." The wrath demoness' haughty voice still made him smile, even as his brain cautioned him to keep up his guard. Zira was a controlling creature who loved nothing more than to make her victims writhe and scream and lash out before they realized just what they were doing. She was always looking for ways to get under people's skin. With her son, it was almost too easy.
"And one for me?"
In hindsight, he should have known she would be there. He should have been able to stop the faint gasp that brushed past his lips as he heard her voice. When Duerre was playing at being proper, her tone was nearly indistinguishable from his mother's. How had he never noticed that before? West suppressed a shudder, smoothing his features as well as he could before turning to face his ex-ghoulfriend. The sanity demoness was perched on a tall stool in a spot near the kitchen island. She had gone all out today, her murky green hair pulled back in an elaborate bun and her clingy dress shimmering in the dim indoor light. He knew she was crazy and uncaring and liked to watch him squirm almost as much as Zira did, but he couldn't help the surge of anxious longing that twisted his gut at the sight of her.
West left a wide arc of space between himself and the ghoul as he made his way to his mother's side and kissed her cheek. It wasn't a real lips-to-skin kiss; instead it was delivered about four inches from her face, due in part to the sharp horns jutting past either side of it. He wanted to seem indifferent, but the boil's gaze remained fixed on Duerre the entire time.
"I'll leave the two of you alone," Zira murmured, rising to her feet with a faint rustle of expensive fabric. West knew she wouldn't venture out of earshot, not after going to the trouble of setting this up.
Duerre was on her feet as well the moment Zira left their company. West tried to move around her, but she was quick to block the exit he had been aiming for. He backed away instead, finding himself pressed closer to the stove as she crossed the room, positioning herself between him and the door. She advanced further, placing her hands flat on his chest and shoving him against the pristine stainless steel knobs.
"Tell me about your ghoul," she said, leaning in close and tracing her clawed fingers over his heart. Gooseflesh peppered West's forearms, but he didn't move except to frown.
"Don't got one," he countered, his voice a soft rasp. "Gave up on 'em after you."
She smiled, snapping her sharp teeth together several times before lazily sighing out a reply.
"You lie, darling. But that's all right. She must be something very special for you to want to keep her to yourself so badly."
Holly was special, but, well, West knew he and Duerre weren't talking about the same sort of specialness. He was acutely aware of what she was implying, and though West couldn't have put his feelings for the fox ghoul into words, he was suddenly quite certain he didn't feel like that. A flash of discomfort registered in the boil's eyes as he shouldered Duerre away with a growl and headed for the stairs. "Jus'... shut yer mouth."
As he hurried out of the kitchen, she waved a jaunty little wave, bouncing happily on her bare toes. She had won, for now. At least she'd kept quiet like he'd asked.
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Posted: Sat Feb 18, 2012 11:15 am
vacation: the dinner
"So. Westus."
The boil's spine stiffened in response to the sueded purr of his father's voice. They were barely ten minutes into dinner and West was fairly certain those two words had already soured the entire meal.
"You've been at Amityville for nearly a year now, correct? Is it everything you had hoped it would be?"
Well, he hadn't been expecting that. Usually dinner conversation revolved around the most recent party his parents had attended or what a disappointing deadbeat his uncle was. West felt something brush against his forearm and jerked away, but it was only Duerre. He suddenly felt boxed in. Cornered.
"Pass the potatoes," she whispered. On nights like these, Duran dismissed the servants, leaving the four of them to serve themselves. West, his parents, and the daughter they still wished was theirs.
"Mm," he replied. The potatoes were passed. "I don't think..."
"Because Wailington is an excellent school—a quality school, without all of the... you know... rumors. And you had such a lovely ghoul there, and friends..."
West relaxed his hand out of the fist he had unconsciously drawn. It didn't move from its place on the table, even though he longed to hit something. He briefly wondered how his father felt about actions such as these, ones wholly borne of frustration but so similar in appearance to anger. Could he feel them too?
"Amityville's... excellent..." All right, so that was a stretch. "An' there're things y'don't know livin' 'ere away from everyone. I've seen..."
"He has a lovely ghoul there too, from what I hear."
"Oh, do tell!" As his mother leaned forward with all of the false interest of a sarcastic receptionist, Duran turned his smirk toward his pathling, drawing his knife back and forth across the tender meat. This time West was angry, and everyone at the table knew as much. Everyone except the demoness who had sparked it.
"She's not... look, can't we talk about my hair're somethin'? 'Bout how much you all hate th' way I cut it an' wish I would stop tryin' t'look like a preppy a*****e—"
"Language."
"Mom. Seriously?"
Now it was Zira's turn to smile. The expression calmed West slightly. He dropped his hand back under the table to rest on his thigh, but Duerre's got there first. She squeezed.
"s**t!"
"Scolding you for that potty mouth hasn't worked since you were eight."
West wasn't listening. He slapped at Duerre's hand when it didn't move, trying to suppress the sharp spike of embarrassment that blazed through him. So much for calming down.
"These things you've seen," Duran continued. "I admit I'm curious. What sorts of marvelous events have we been missing here... away from everyone?"
Her hand slid away. A moment passed, and she was slicing her food again like nothing had happened at all. West didn't bother hiding his shaky sigh. "Um... an island witha strange reaper on it. Weird talkin' fog with weirder demony guys in it. Helpin' us." West was glad to have the opportunity to change the subject. Duerre was still far too close, but he could almost ignore her now that he was thinking of the parade of bizarre things that had gone on at his school. He was quite sure the kids at Wailington Heights had never seen anything like them. "Oh, an' Christmas Town! Everyone got killed by a ninja."
"Terrifying." Duran chuckled and speared his last morsel—the eye of a phantom floresce—onto the end of his fork. A dribble of juice puddled on his plate as he brought it to his lips.
"It's more'n I saw at Wailington."
"Don't pout."
"I..." West swallowed then inhaled slowly until the stinging in his lungs was too much to bear. He tried to deliberately direct his anger at his father, even though he had no idea if that was how those sorts of things worked.
"I should pull you out of that school. It seems to be giving you all sorts of strange ideas. If we wait too much longer you'll be ranting like Telefsen."
Zira put a hand on Duran's forearm. "Not that there's anything wrong with that."
"Certainly not. There's nothing wrong with your crazy brother, dear." West didn't have to look at his father to know the older demon was rolling his eyes.
"They're not..." he began, his fingers squeezing his knife so firmly that he could feel its decorative swirls digging into his palm. He had to stop this. It wasn't that he didn't want to continue arguing. He could do that all night. No, West no longer wanted to give them the satisfaction that he knew his anger would bring. "I'm not talkin'bout this anymore. They teach me things there, things that you hid from me... forever! I know you know I'm pissed as hell right now, that you've known when I've been mad since th' day I was born an' never tol' me I'd be able t'do it too. How'my s'posed t'... I dunno... prepare?" It all sounded so incredibly childish, but that was what he felt like. A sheltered, stupid child. "Total strangers an' books tol' me more'n my own parents!" He didn't remember having risen to his feet, but he dropped back onto his chair as soon as he noticed what he was doing, placing his knife next to his plate with shaking fingers.
"I'm not talkin'bout this anymore. I'm not. I'm... done."
There was no further discussion at all that evening, not about parties or ghouls or uncles. West said nothing as he gathered plates and silverware and stacked them in the dishwasher, and he didn't respond when his mother wished him a good night. They could all go ******** themselves.
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Posted: Sat Feb 18, 2012 11:16 am
vacation: the kiss(es)
The fact that she had found ways to continue touching him after his little outburst shouldn't have been any excuse for the way he felt now, considering how uncomfortable those touches left him, but if he was being honest, her ability to make him feel uneasy and slightly disgusted with himself had always been part of Duerre's allure. He had never particularly enjoyed being honest, especially when the truth was so unflattering. Anyway, if he was going to be making excuses, the touching thing made as much sense as anything else. Underneath all of his self-policed prudishness, West was still a teenager, for Jack's sake.
It took until she conveniently met him in the hall outside of his room for him to figure out that she had been very deliberately goading him into this, every teasing press of her skin building on his discomfort until she was now able to nudge him over the edge with the barest flick of one perfectly manicured claw.
"I won't tell," she said as she slid out of the shadows like a wraith. "Not your parents, or your little ghoulfriend."
"Bullshit." He was well aware that she had no real way of seeking out his classmates, but Duerre told Zira everything. No matter what she promised now, she would share whatever happened here with his mother when it was all said and done.
"Maybe." The demoness was inches away. How had he let her get so close? She rose up onto the tips of her toes and wrapped her arms around him. Her lips brushed his, her eyes never leaving his face. Some distant part of his brain that was stronger and sharper than the rest of him noted that she seemed smaller somehow. Or maybe he had grown taller while she remained the same. She was still as soft and supple under his fingers as always, but now slightly more compact by comparison, easier to hold onto. A better fit. He shouldn't have been touching her. He definitely shouldn't have been kissing her.
Their lips remained locked in a silent fight for what seemed like ages—West's back pressed against the doorframe as he desperately kissed the one demon he hated above all others—but he finally pulled away, just barely, reluctantly coming to the conclusion that enough was enough. This had to stop.
Duerre stretched forward, biting down hard on his lower lip, her pointy teeth drawing blood as West hissed. He pinched the zipper of her fancy dress tight between his thumb and forefinger and tugged. This probably wasn't the best way to go about regaining control of the situation.
"Get off," he muttered halfheartedly. His hands stubbornly remained where they were, one digging into her hip, the other creeping down the length of her exposed back.
"Oh, I will."
He let her go with a disgusted grunt, pushing her away so suddenly that she stumbled and caught herself against the opposite wall. Half of her carefully styled hair had come loose during their struggle, and she smiled up at him through its tangled curtain, her lips red with his blood.
The boil crossed his arms before she could see that his hands were shaking, but he couldn't quite hide how quickly his chest rose and fell or the fluttering pulse at his throat. He nodded curtly, as if they had just been passing in the hall. "Good night, Duerre." West backed away, dropped a hand long enough to fumble for the doorknob, and escaped into his room.
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