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 Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 7:18 am
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 7:19 am
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 7:23 am
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 7:41 am
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 7:45 am
 i'll homework uDayglo paint, beans, a jacuzzi, laughter and tears.
x
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 7:58 am
dodge a brickLipstick, questions, more laughter and tears.
x
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 8:29 am
amityville under suspensionBogeymen threaten to shut down the school. West fails miserably at attacking a box. Just another regular day in the life of a wrath demon.
x | x | x | x | x | x
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 8:53 am
christmas... againthe cracker of nuts
West attends the school play.
x x x x
the rat king
A large rat attacks the theater. West fights it sometimes.
x x
smells like jingleberry
West and Levi search for Jingleberry. A large pink monstrosity finds them instead.
near our dorms
West and Levi are joined by Bul, Mei and Sibyl in kicking some Insane a**. There is also hot chocolate. And scarves.
the fight for amityville
Giant hands, magical girls, students attacking students. Madness!
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 9:01 am
the cave of wonders: failx
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 9:02 am
the proof is in the rootsWest meets a new demon student and her moths.
x
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 9:04 am
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 9:11 am
guest visitorsThe Horsemen have arrived.
x
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 9:15 am
quality timeWest is the best hairdresser.
x
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 9:20 am
binge
West was, without a doubt, the shittiest wrath demon ever spawned.
Perhaps the most glaring indicator of this was his complete lack of skill when it came to marking. Not only had he never made a proper contract prior to attending Amityville, but the majority of the marks he had given or received since hadn't ended in his favor at all. He chuckled once, the brief exhalation of air causing him to sway in place. Understatement of the century. This last time he had been coerced into brushing Calder's hair, for Jack's sake.
As if all of that hadn't been humiliating enough, he had now lost control of his FEAR. Yes, his abilities had become far stronger once he'd reached Knobhood, and yes, he no longer had to deal with the disturbing way his body had once used his core emotion to fuel his attacks, but it seemed the tradeoff included a complete loss of his ability to reason during battle. Initially, he had felt a measure of relief when he'd noticed the change. Anything was better than being transformed into the sniveling child he became without his anger. But over time, that relief had turned to uncertainty. It was not all that surprising to find that he could so thoroughly lose control of himself while engaging an opponent, considering what he was, but that didn't make the feeling any easier to deal with. West loved to fight. He did not like losing control.
At first, he had been reluctantly willing to wait and see what happened next, at least for a little while. This faulty ability had shown up out of the blue; maybe it would resolve itself in the same way. But that had all changed after the Calder Incident. It wasn't that brushing a boil's hair was all that horrible on its own, it just felt that way on top of everything else. West wasn't one to fall into a self-loathing funk, but when he did the funk ran deep. The boil hated feeling like this only slightly less than he hated losing control.
He had taken it upon himself to look for a way to rectify the situation almost immediately, and what better way to analyze problems with his FEAR than by using it? It wasn't out of line to assume that his difficulties could be resolved once he'd had a bit of practice, so practice he did. He had fought no fewer than six people today: three Hobs, two Knobs, and a random muscular harpy outside the gym near the maul. All of the fights had been going well, he had even been winning most of them, but when he'd finally summoned his FEAR, they'd all gone to hell. Every one.
West had been feeling disgusted with, well, everything when he'd picked himself up off of the pavement that last time. He'd thought about trying just one final opponent, but it didn't take him long to admit to himself that doing so would get him nowhere. His left eye was swollen halfway shut, his knuckles looked like they had met with the wrong end of a blender, and he was tired in a way that he couldn't recall ever having been before. He just wanted to sit down on the curb and take a nap. He wanted to do it, so that's what he did.
When the boil woke again, the pumpkin sun was several hours closer to setting and he felt no better than he had before. The places that had hurt prior to his surprise nap hurt even more, and it felt like no less than a thousand new little hurts had risen up to join them. Normally, he cherished pain. Its presence meant he had been doing something worthwhile with his time. It meant he was still alive. This time West was miserable, and there was nothing to do now except scrape himself up and head back to school.
Twenty minutes later, while he was shuffling around the outskirts of the maul trying to avoid everyone inside, he felt it. Rage. He gasped and tensed his jaw as it washed over him, thoroughly unprepared for the way it soaked away his pain and exhaustion with each refreshing pulse. West had absorbed the anger of others before, but it always left him muddy and giggly. It had never been like this. Had he discovered some new facet of being a wrath demon? He flexed his hand. His knuckles were still split and purpling, but the pain was gone.
Could he... heal?
The boil rose to his feet, quickly heading in the direction of this restorative anger. It grew in intensity as he drew closer, and by the time he sat down on the single bench outside the unmarked brick building it was emanating from, West had a mission. He was going to use this rage to heal his hand.
He remained sitting on that bench, nearly motionless, for... to be honest, he no longer had any idea how long he had been sitting here. It was dark now. He knew that much even though he hadn't opened his eyes in some time. Everything else, all of his thoughts and feelings and worldly concerns, had merged into a mash of pleasant nonexistence. He never needed to move again. All he needed was this bench, the building behind him, and this delicious ra—
"What are you doing here, ya little s**t?"
West told his eyelids to lift in response to the gruff voice, but when they eventually complied, they only got about halfway up before he ordered a retreat, just far enough for him to see that the person in front of him was rather bulky and far too close. He let out a breathy groan of disgust.
"Bright."
"The broken neon sign with the prancing stunted ponies is bright? You're stupider than I ever gave you credit for, kid."
West tried to clench his fists but they wouldn't move. This b*****d was gonna—
Oh, forget it.
"Who..."
"Shut up a second. If we wait for you to make a meaningful contribution to the conversation when you're like this, we'll be here into next week." Warm fingers dug into his jaw and swollen eye socket, and for the first time in what must have been hours, West felt the fog in his head clear. "There."
Now that he could think again, he was struck by how familiar this mysterious voice sounded. He dragged his eyes open and tilted his head back, suddenly curious to see who he was talking to.
"Uncle Tel? What're you doin'ere?"
"I'm here all the time. And I could ask you the same thing. In fact, I will. What could you possibly gain by taking in, like... all the rage the pom fighting ring is putting out? You're practically nuclear."
Pom fighting? Heh. "I was healin'," he replied. "Y'know we can—" He looked down at his fist, expecting to see smooth, unbroken skin, but all he saw were the same old bruises and blood.
"Dumb ********. We don't heal. Healing's for pansies and crybabies. All you're ever gonna do with that much mad is make yourself sick." He gave West's arm a rough tug, pulling him to his feet and holding the boil steady when he wobbled.
"What'd I do?"
Telefsen shrugged. "Something stupid. But given who your dad is, that s**t's inevitable." He looked around, squinting past the neon lights into the dark. "Which way's your worthless school?"
West pointed.
The pair began to shuffle up the street, the younger, taller demon leaning on his uncle for support. His legs shook after every handful of steps, and all of the streetlights had subtle rings of color swirling around them. It was actually quite pretty.
West stopped when they were almost at the entrance to the demon dorms.
"Why don't you teach me?"
"Teach you what?"
"Wrath demon... things."
"Just like that? For free?"
"I'll pay if y'really wa—"
"I don't want your damn seeds."
"What do y..."
"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhut up." He didn't look at the boil as he raised his finger and dug it into West's lips. Actually, it was West's cheek, but he had been aiming for his lips. "I'll do it because you're family. And I don't want my family acting ******** retarded."
"Yeah. Okay."
"Not this month though. Or next month probably. Got things to do. Grownup things." He slid out from under West, smirking as the boil stumbled forward. "I'll call you."
West nodded, but remained where he had been left.
"You going?"
"I... don't think I can."
Telefsen sighed and ducked under his nephew's arm again. "C'mon. Let's get you inside."
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 9:28 am
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