Tick tock went the clock (Scoria)

OoC: I forgot to say this when I posted it!
(as if you couldn't already tell from the title xD)

Dedicated to/in honor of SuperDecimal. <3

BiC:
Tick tock went the clock.

Perpetual motion- reverberating, repeating, recurring. Flowing effortlessly through the libraries of lore, carving shelves of memories- links between the three time frames, bonds of the human heart. Time made a hobby of taunting the individual who intended to govern its complexities. Such a compelling unreachable force- was time really impossible to control? Or has time made its keepers to believe that it repeats itself, only to discourage a future where time's path is not unpredictable, but guided?

Keltan watched the second hand of the clock as it ticked around the numerals.
It was alive, always mocking him- he could feel it.

Squinting his left eye, he motioned a fist in front of his face, and projected his thumb and forefinger, pretending to squish the numbers between his fingers. He wanted to hold time in the very palm of his hand- to know that kind of power, that kind of force, and to be able to contort it on his own whim--

"What a feeling." he thought.

He often had thoughts like these- trying to contemplate the uncontemplatable, imagining the unimaginable. Some few might call him an intellect, simply misunderstood by society- and shunned by the ignorant and arrogant, but most refuse to label him- resting on the theory that he is balancing on a thin line between morality, and insanity. Keltan did not mind it- thoughts like his own seemed to help him feel like he was finally breaking off from his mortal ties, and becoming the ethereal being he was meant to be.

Tick tock went his biological clock.

Sun rays began creeping their way through the window shades, and onto the old wooden floor, Keltan's train of thought de-railed. It was not the sunrise that broke his concentration, more or less-however, it was his grumbling stomach. Creak creak. He arose from his bed and sought to scour the fridge for anything edible to quiet his talkative tummy. While scratching his chest, he yawned as he made his way to the kitchen.

Click clack swish. The sound of empty glass jars, and other items banging together in the refrigerator were the only sounds keeping the silence at bay.

"Sigh." There was nothing there to eat.

"Where is my money? And my shoes?" Keltan fumbled around the tiny area he called his home, searching for anything to prepare him to go to The Market. He really did not have much to spend on necessities, but he had an idea. Working for someone- just for little while, until he earned enough to buy a few things. Jobs were hard to find where he lived, they were all taken up, by poorer people who were willing to work for cheaper wages. Keltan could not afford to live on cheaper wages, but any money earned is money going to good use, so he takes odd-jobs all over the place- his time working at any job only being no more than a couple hours, days, or weeks.

He laced his tennis shoes up, and grabbed his wallet, not to mention his switchblade on the counter. You can never be too careful, you know.
Slam, lock. Out the door, and down the street, he passed unfamiliar faces, and heard unfamiliar voices, speaking unfamiliar languages, carrying on unfamiliar conversations. Weaving in and out and around them was a breeze, Keltan was used to living the cramped, up-town city kind of life. He rounded the avenue, and headed toward The Market.

The Market did not consist of one- but many, smaller novelty shops, food stands, and bars- all lined-up on the same side of the street. They were all run by the poorer people of the town, and most liked to call the area "The Outskirts" although it was clearly no-where near the outer streets of the city.

Keltan slid unnoticed into one of the first local bars he saw on his right. It smelled of cheap perfume, and alcohol- Keltan's stomach turned- he wasn't one for drinking, he preferred to sit behind the counter, and help around the place.

"HEEEEY, THERE!! Kelty my boy! How've ya been?"

A coarse voice greeted him from behind the counter.
Keltan took his hands off his stomach, shot them in the air, and waved them around like a mad-man.

"Mister Sallons! I've been fine- came here hoping to earn a little moo-lah.", he chuckled.

Mr. Sallons waved him behind the counter. He handed him an apron and smiled. "I need you ta handle the customers while I go 'round back and fix that back door light- it keeps flickerin' and I hate for people ta think this is some rinky-dink, run-o'-the-mill place. I paid good money for it!"

Keltan nodded.

"Right then." Mr. Sallons patted Keltan on the shoulder, and bounded through the back door.

Minutes went by, and Keltan serviced the customers as they came ambling through the door. One by one, he earned tips- penny after penny, dollar after dollar. Now, there were always strange people walking through the doors of the place- but there was one in particular that caught Keltan's eye. It was a man- at least- he thinks it was a man- sitting outside the shop, pacing back and forth. The strange man did not even come into the bar until he had seemed to have his fill of loitering outside the window, watching the people walk by. But when he did, he had a seat at the far-end of the counter, away from everybody else in the bar.

Hunched over, and quiet, he was. He was wearing a black hooded cloak- which covered his face- blocking Keltan's view of the figure's complexion. The cloak he wore- was of the thickest material Keltan had ever seen, and he was enormous- certainly larger than any human he had ever seen. Keltan was surprised- and a little intimidated, at that. Gliding over, he stood in front of the man- and offered some service.

"Like anything you see? I'd be glad to assist you."

Shaking his head, the figure spoke something, in a gruff, inaudible tone.

"Such a strange, strange person!" Keltan thought.
I can't even see his face- what's with this guy? Why is he all alone? He must not be normal-- like me."

Keltan sighed. "Alright then. Holler if you need anything."

Walking back to the sink, Keltan began polishing some bottles and glasses- all the while, keeping an eye on his new customer.

OoC: Goood luck, Mikey my boy! :D

OoC: Don't call me Mikey. >.>

BiC:

A new city, new throats to slit and new bounties to claim for his own. For now, that was all Tuariv was really good for. Times had been slow lately, a new world peace, or rather order, was making its place in the world, and as things went along so did the old ways of life. The bustling city Tuariv had somehow snuck into felt too surreal, too much normality everywhere. No monsters, no fights, just people walking about through the streets with a horse drawn carriage here or there. Tuariv was without question, out of place.

The market... the mammoth thing thought as he passed by a fruit stand, with many more down the white stone street.

A few obviously rich men and women passed by in some ugly penguin suits and over the top enormous dresses. Tuariv groaned and recoiled from their disgusting perfume, turning to watch in amusement as some beggars eyed the rich people closely, he didn't see what happened though as he looked away, only slightly seeing in the last second the many poor people begin to swarm them. Tuariv walked away from the scene, thinking that surely some guards will be on their way soon as he looked around for a bar.

It took a few hours out of Tuariv's morning before he had found a bar, the only problem was that it was in a disgusting section of the city with many guards posted around the area, poor people looking for any little job so they can earn money for food and a home. Smells assaulted Tuariv's senses like a mob from all the rotten fruit stands or worse things hiding around the streets.

"Shine your shoes sir?" A small voice said.

Tuariv looked down to find a small boy looking up into the deep dark pit of his hood. The massive figure merely shook his head and sidestepped the lad, heading over to the front of a bar he finally discovered. Slowly he shuffled over to the front, looking in through a window to see very few people inside. With a slight pouting like sound he turned back around and stood there by the doorway, there were so few people inside and he needed some more.

Seldom people walked in and Tuariv didn't want to wait for more after a mere handful came within the small time slot of a half hour, all giving him looks.

With a deep sigh, he grabbed the doorknob of the bar front door and pulled it open, shuffling into the slightly dimmed room, the front door swinging shut behind him. A few heads turned and a whisper went out here or there, but Tuariv was used to them already, it wasn't the first time he had entered a bar after all.

There wasn't anything out of the ordinary here, some scruffy men, some with large beards or mustaches, one or two bald, and a young man behind the counter, almost all staring at him as he quietly moved to the end of the counter, away from the people but not out of earshot distance.

The stool he chose creaked under his weight, and as soon as he had had himself seated, the young man behind the counter had already slid on over to where he sat, obviously curious but used his position as bartender as a way to get a closer look at Tuariv.

"Like anything you see? I'd be glad to assist you." The young man asked.

Tuariv shook his head, "No thanks..." Totally unsure of whether or not the kid had even understood what he had said.

The bartender sighed, as if unphased by Tuariv's appearance. "Alright then. Holler if you need anything."

And just like that he left. Tuariv tilted one eyebrow up as he watched the bartender go away, shrugging the encounter off fairly quickly. He wasn't here for a drink after all, he never touched liquor, it was the information he wanted. From all past experience Tuariv learned that there is no greater information than what could be found in a bar from people just talking, at least... free information.