Sins of Thy Father (Cio)

[Kiriyama]

Dear Celia,

I need your help. I doubt you’ll respond to this letter, but it’s worth a try. I’ve got nobody else to turn to, after all. Anyway, I’m dying. I’d like to visit my hometown one last time before I cop out, but I don’t think I could make it there on my own, what with the passing out, temporary blindness/deafness, and such.

I’m at the “Sheep’s Eye”, in Tybalt. Please come and help me…

- Flamel

~

Creed dropped the letter on the makeshift postman’s desk. “Anybody, Anywhere!” was the title of the establishment, which specialized in delivering letters to travelers. All they needed was a letter and a name, apparently.

“You want this delivered to some Celia chick?” the clerk asked. Flamel nodded and coughed, careful to cover his mouth. It was common courtesy to do so. He didn’t want to get any blood on the clerk, as he was just doing his job.

“Alright. That’ll be twenty-five arch.”

Creed paid the man and left. He felt light-headed now, and wanted to get back to his room at the Sheep’s Eye before he passed out. He was barely out the door when an onset of blindness set in, and he was forced to find something to lean against until it came back.

The madman, via waving his arms about, found something large and somewhat soft. He leaned his forehead against it and sighed with relief. At least he wasn’t going to walk into anyth-

“Hey!” the thing said. Flamel’s vision started to come back, though he wished it hadn’t. The thing he’d been leaning on was a rather large, fairly ticked off man. He opened his mouth to apologize, yet another mistake. Rather than a honey-sweet apology, a small puddle of blood dribbled out his mouth and onto the man’s shoes.

“Damn,” Creed thought, backing away from the man. He tripped over himself and wound up flat on his back, staring up at the angry behemoth. “This isn’t going to end well…”

“You son of a *****!” the man yelled, reaching down and grabbing Flamel by the collar of his shirt and yanking him onto his feet. “These shoes were expensive, you sick little ****!”

The man brought one meaty ham of a fist into Flamel’s face, sending his world into a tailspin. A second punch shattered his nose and brought the blindness back. By the third punch Creed was coughing up blood. With a fourth and final punch, he was out like a light.

“Elm!” shouted a chubby priest. He hobbled over and put a hand on the large man’s shoulder. “Leave him be. We’ve got to get to the next town and preach the word of D.A.M. Do not worry about a pair of shoes. Leave the man where he is, and let us go.”

Elm dropped Flamel and followed the fat man, leaving the madman in the middle of the street.

[Cio]

OoC: :3

BiC:

A pair of aggravated eyes glared down at a parchment, fairly new. It had just been delivered to a female, around nineteen years of age and of demon persuasion. The deliverer in question had been less than competent and human to boot. Just these two things alone were enough to make the girl want to lash out at someone. But, she maintained her cool. After all, while the services were less than satisfactory, the product may have been a different story.

The letter in her hands was from Flamel Creed, a madman and a human, but not of the normal sorts. In fact, of all humans, he was probably the one that got on her nerves the least. And, as she read the letter, she couldn't help but fail to suppress the feeling of sympathy that overcame her.

So, she began to think, unsure of what to make of the words. He's dying. There wasn't much more to think at this point. And, as she sat, hunched over a dimly burning candle, Celia sighed. Her legs hung limply as she leaned back in the chair, neck bent, and eyes fixated on the ceiling. I suppose I have nothing better to do... not that I ever do. Pressing a palm against her forehead, the demon was stuck in a pensive state. It was like this whenever something of interest broke her monotonous travels. Always hesitant of what change in her journey would bring, but always willing to ignore that hesitation in a moment's notice.

With a sudden gusto, her body lurched forward, realizing this to be one of those moments of ignorance. “Well, what am I waiting for?” Her hands slammed against the table, picking up the letter in a single sweep, her face placid but eyes glistening. Taking her staff in the other hand, she stood, hood down and stride brisk. “Hpmh, off I go again.”

~ ~ ~

“Argh, this place is crawling with humans,” were the first words coming out of Celia's mouth upon entering Tybalt at around midday the next day. The hand on her staff twitched slightly, wanting very much to attack even a few. She restrained herself for the time being, knowing that time could always allow for her to attack a few later. Quickly, she maneuvered through the crowd of town folk, eyes alert for anything that could possibly be named “Sheep's Eye”. With a name like that, chances are I won't even have to be looking.

Nevertheless, she scrutinized every single sign on each building. She saw things ranging from 'Joe's Tool Emporium” to “The Wonder Shop”, the latter of which never actually showed what it specialized in. The demon even spotted “Anybody, Anywhere!”, the logo of which had been stamped right on the letter she had received. Must be getting close.

And, within a matter of minutes, the large sign bearing the words “Sheep's Eye” welcomed her to her destination. An eye had been painted right on the sign, making for an oddly ornate welcoming. I guess I'm here... Cautiously, her hand touched the door, slowly applying pressure to open it, unsure of what she would find on the other side.

[Kiriyama]

Flamel coughed and slowly got up, seeing that it was now midday. He got to his feet and walked over to a nearby building, thankful that the large man was gone. Nonetheless, he was more than a little annoyed when he realized that he’d been out for several hours and not a single person had so much as dragged his body out of the street.

“Thanks for the help guys,” he said, directing the statement at anybody who would listen. “It’s really nice to know that your fellow man is too busy to drag an unconscious man out of the middle of the street. I really appreciate the concern guys. I like your self-restraint too. No need to overreact.”

Obviously, nobody responded. Creed would have blown them all to smithereens if he weren’t afraid of killing himself in the process. Making explosions wouldn’t be a good idea for somebody in his state. He wouldn’t even be able to fight or run if somebody stronger than him showed up.

He sighed and started on his way back to “The Sheep’s Eye”, supporting himself with anything he could find. The madman’s confidence rose with every step he took without passing out or going blind. By the time the inn came into view however, he could feel some more blood vomit preparing itself.

“Please don’t,” he thought to himself, begging his body to listen to him for once. “I don’t want to greet Celia like that. If she’s not there yet, vomit away. If she is, at least wait until I’m done explaining everything, please?”

As if in response, he could feel it settling down. He forced himself to smile at his little victory. Lord knew he wouldn’t be smiling often in his final weeks, and he couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to have a little smirk.

Creed pushed open the inn’s door, his fake smile turning into a real one at the sight of Celia. It seemed like she’d gotten there only moments earlier, as her back was still to the door. She turned and looked at him upon hearing the door close.

“Hey Celia,” he began, “I’m glad you could c-c-urgh!”

He bent over and wretched, vomiting a small puddle of blood before his feet. The madman leaned against the doorframe and coughed into his cupped hands. Now that is how a gentleman says hello.

[Cio]

OoC: Sorry for the wait and such. As usual. Heh.

BiC:

Upon seeing the crimson liquid, the consistency of which she'd much rather forget, Celia's nose cringed. She couldn't help but look on at the madman in disgust. “So, I guess you are dying.” Edging around the pool of blood, the demon made her way toward the leaning man. Sighing a bit, she went to Flamel's aid, extending a hand to grab his elbow. Slowly, she got him to one of the many scattered tables in the lobbyesque entrance of “The Sheep's Eye”.

The lobby was an odd one. It was full of fluffy things, like a sheep's wool. It was adorned with small figurines of sheep with bulging eyeballs. Despite only seeing them in passing, the girl had seen enough to be slightly weirded out.

After setting him down, she walked over to the person sitting laxly at the attendance desk. Human. Her first response was a glare at this unsuspecting man. Noticing he didn't respond, the girl slammed a hand upon the desk, hoping to immediately garner his attention.

“Huh?” he asked, blinking a bit and turning his head up. A sudden annoyed look overtook the man's face, “What is it you want? You're not staying here are you?” Celia narrowed her eyes a bit, not speaking a word as she pointed to the pool of blood that was still at the entrance. Letting loose a condescending laugh, he asked, “What do you expect me to do about it?”

As usual, the demon's face was completely emotionless, “Clean it.” With that she turned around, and walked back to the table where she had left Flamel. Her face lost a bit of its hardness as she asked, “Can you walk?”

While she expected him to say no, he nodded, though rather half-heartedly. He got up slowly, most likely not to over exert himself and began to walk. With each step, it became more obvious to the girl how sick he had become.

Must be hard to be dying. Especially when it's so drawn out. She walked beside him on the way to his room, hoping he would make it without trouble, yet ready to jump in if the need arose. Fortunately, his room was one of the first ones in the corridor. And, with a loud snap of the handle, the door was pushed forward.

As if it was the final stretch to the finish line, the madman hurried to the bed, setting himself down and immediately placing his hand over his mouth to begin coughing. In the meanwhile, Celia found a chair in which to to sit in. When she turned to speak to him though, she found that he was still coughing uncontrollably into his hand. Hm. That must have been troublesome for him to do.

Hesitantly, her eyes darted, falling upon different things scattered in the room. First looking at a lamp, rather fluffy looking and continuing the sheep-like theme. Then at a desk, painted white, but showing some wear with its falling paint flakes. Finally, once she'd found Flamel had composed himself, her eyes fell upon his, relatively interested. Her hands, flexing out, met in front of her face, palms and fingers pressed together. Her entire exterior had turned all business, “So, what's the plan?”