Post by Nobody on Nov 12, 2014 7:19:40 GMT
Chapter Two
The Serpent’s Whisper
Jenna woke up outside the station. Nemo, the boy who had just moved into her home, had carried her out after a gas pipe had broken. She had blushed fiery red after hearing this from the EMTs, who had been called after Nemo came out of the station, a girl over his shoulder. Nemo was on the other side of the ambulance at the moment, giving his statement to the police. A few had gone down to confirm it, returning quickly. Each agreed that there was definitely a weird smell, ‘like rotten egg’ one said, and closed the area off with caution tape.
“If you’re feeling better, you can go,” one of the paramedics said. “No sense in you hanging around unless you want to go to the hospital.”
Jenna thanked them for what they had done and walked around the ambulance to where Nemo was finishing. He was better looking in person than he was in the picture her father had sent. He was tall and slim, but well built. Whatever he had done before he lost his memory, he’d stayed in shape. His hair was long but not girlishly so, and it strayed just into his eyes. And speaking of his eyes… she shook her head. She was almost 18. Too old to be swooning like this over some stranger. Even if he had saved her life.
Nemo turned to her, noticing her stare. “Is everything okay?” Concern filled his gray green eyes.
She turned away, blushing just a bit. Dammit Jenna, play it cool. Even if he is mysterious amnesia boy, he’s still going to be living with you. Off limits, house rules. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” Jenna started back towards their home, trying to walk far enough ahead of him to give her face time to cool.
“So what exactly happened? Did I just, like, hit my head?” Jenna asked after a few minutes of walking in silence. Nemo’s eyes flitted to the ground behind her, guilty.
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
She laughed at him, but didn’t turn. “You don’t talk a lot, do you? Strong silent type?”
“I’m not that strong.” He thought back to that thing in the subway station, and how he had shoved it back into the train’s path. Good way to start off, Nemo. Lie.
“Well, you carried my fat ass out of there,” she joked, earning a smirk from him. She turned around, studying him. She pressed the crosswalk signal, waiting a moment. “Seriously, though. Thank you. Most people would have panicked. You just carried me out and called the police.”
He felt his heart start to speed up again. “I wasn’t that calm.” He fought the urge to retch as he recalled the sensation of the wood tearing that thing’s throat.
She rolled her eyes. “I think I’m going to call you Mr. Modest.” She stepped back into the crosswalk as the signal changed and swiveled on her heel. When he didn’t respond, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Are you okay? You look like you’re going to puke.”
He waved it off. “Just the smell, is all. Not a fan of eggs.”
She raised an eyebrow in response. “Sensitive, I guess.”
Nemo struggled for a moment to catch up to her. They continued on in silence for another moment before she gently bumped into him with her shoulder. Caught off guard, he stumbled to the side. He was startled at first until he saw the grin on her face. He jostled her back, sending her sprawling. His eyes widened with horror and he reached to help her out only to find her laughing as she stood. “You don’t mess around,” she stated as she brushed herself off. She looked up at his face, and after a second, seemed to decide that it was all in good fun. “Let’s not do that in rush hour, though.”
They reached the house without further incident, stepping through the sturdy wooden door. “Dad, we’re back,” she announced. Silva came around the partition separating the kitchen from the living room.
He grinned and hugged her tight. “Glad to see you’re okay.” He looked at Nemo approvingly. “Got my little girl back in one piece, I see. You’ll make a good addition to the house yet.”
Jenna sat at the table, giving a quick look to the paints to make sure they were all in the appropriate places before grabbing up a bottle and squirting some of the paint onto a dirty wooden pallet and setting to work. Silva put a hand on Nemo’s shoulder. “I told you that if you got back in time, I’d set you up with an extracurricular, right?” He led Nemo out into the backyard.
Yard was a generous term. It was more of an alley that had never been paved, and walled off on two sides. It was filled with junk, but not in a disorderly manner. Everything had a place it belonged, even if it didn’t really look worth keeping. “Just in case you were wondering, I’m not a hoarder,” Silva said defensively. “I’m a collector.”
He gestured towards the yard. “So, pick something.”
Nemo blinked, confused.
Silva sighed. “People, even amnesiacs, have an unconscious form of memory. They naturally gravitate towards things that seem familiar, or enjoyable, even if they can’t identify why. Marco, Steve, and Jenna all picked something from this pile, and they’ve stuck with what they drew.” Silva smiled like an idiot, looking on his piles of random objects. “So, pick something.”
Nemo started to pick through the piles, wondering where Silva had found the time to gather and transport it all, and marveled at the odd organizational skills he possessed. He threw a small metal cup behind him and sighed with exasperation. How was any of this supposed to be interesting? The cup hit the top of a pile, sending it toppling.
Silva’s eyes widened with horror. “No, no no no no!” The pile landed on another one, and gravity took care of the rest. Within 30 seconds every tower of trash had become a part of the chaotic domino chain. When the dust cleared, almost nothing remained standing in the yard. Silva’s face reflected the state of his beloved junk piles perfectly. Nemo slowly picked up the metal cup and carefully set it back in place.
He was about to apologize when something caught his eye from just outside his vision. A metal band had rolled out from one of the trash heaps, parts glinting through the grime in the sun. Although dirty, it’s silver surface didn’t appear to be tarnished. Nemo picked it up, turning it over in his hands. He thought that if he cleaned it he might even be able to tell what it was supposed to be.
Silva solemnly placed a hand on Nemo’s shoulder. “Well whatever that is, I’m glad you found something you like. Go wash it off upstairs. I’ll… I need a minute.” His head drooped.
Nemo started to apologize. “I─”
Silva held up a finger. “There are no words.”
Nemo took his newfound prize inside. Jenna glanced up, a headphone dangling from one ear. “Everything okay? I heard banging.” He turned towards the window looking out into the yard. Her eyes widened. “Oh my god, I can see out the window. What did you─” she stopped short as he took off up the stairs, face burning. The sounds of drums were leaking through the ceiling. Marco seems to be hard at work.
Nemo took the mystery object into the bathroom and set to cleaning it. It was covered in mud, clumps of it obscuring its form. Those were easy enough to take care of on their own, but they didn’t seem to have been wet with water to start. The whole thing smelled suspiciously of grape soda, leading Nemo to wonder if the piles of trash had indeed just been trash. He grabbed some bleach from under the sink and started to remove the cap from the bottle.
~No! Not bleach! Bad idea!~
Nemo jumped at the voice. He looked towards the door, but no one was there. He looked at the bracer. …No. Couldn’t be. He put the bleach away all the same and started up the tap, filling the basin with hot water. He put the bracer in to soak. It was definitely a stylized something, although he couldn’t say what exactly just yet. It was about five inches long, and big enough that if he wanted to he could wear it comfortably. If anything, I may have found somebody’s costume jewelry. He decided to check in on Jenna downstairs while he waited.
She was deep in concentration, her brush a blur across the canvas as she blended oils together effortlessly. She was painting a landscape from what Nemo could tell, a mountain looming over a field, a few trails carved through the land leading towards the blank parts of the canvas. She saw him looking and hastily covered it. “Do you mind? I don’t like performing for an audience.” He raised his hands defensively and headed back up. Steven was just leaving his room.
Steven raised a hand in greeting, smiling. “How’s it going, man?” he asked, good-humored. Nemo managed not to stare at the patch covering his eye this time.
“Not bad, Steve. Found a thing in the garbage. How’s the eye?”
Steven looked out the window and laughed. “You did that?” He turned back to Nemo and lifted the patch. It was red and swollen, and the area around it was purple and shiny, but the eye itself was clear. “I finally got it to open today, and the surgery to bring my good looks back is tomorrow.” He grinned, full of excitement.
Nemo’s own mouth widened in a smile, and he decided he liked Steven. “Fantastic! I’ll make sure to write something funny on the cast.”
Steve shook his head, still grinning, and headed down to the kitchen. “I’m sure I’ll get enough of that from Jenna. She’ll probably paint me up a sarcophagus in my sleep.”
Nemo laughed and walked back to the bathroom. He pulled the bracer out of the sink and wiped it off with a cloth, dirt and grime clinging to the fuzzy surface. The soda smell was gone, and all that was really left was to polish it. He rolled it over, something nagging at the back of his mind about it. It was as its face turned to him that he realized it, dropping it with a start. It was the serpent from his dream on the plane. The emerald eyes flickered.
~It’s about time that you found me, Unsung.~
Nemo dropped it back into the basin. No no no. No. Bracelets don’t talk. This isn’t the thing from my dream, and I’m not crazy. He rolled his eyes. Unsung. Whatever that means. He grabbed up the bracer again only for the eyes to flash once more.
~Hey, could you not drop me this time? Immortal serpent or not, that still hurts. Speaking of, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to put bleach on metal? Oxidizes the hell out of it.~
His heart started racing and he reached out for the counter to steady himself. “Okay. So. Monster goat men and talking bracelets.”
~I’m a gauntlet, thank you.~
“Right, sorry. Gauntlet.” If I’m addressing it, might as well let it call the shots. He walked back into his room, polishing at it absentmindedly.
~That feels incredible after a 60 years in a dump. Then Specks outside finds me and takes me back as part of his ‘collection’.~
Nemo shut the door and flopped face first onto his bed. It was too much. That thing in the subway had been one thing. He might even have believed his own gas story if he didn’t remember the sickening sensations he had felt. But this? This was irrefutable.
“So, what do I call you?” he asked it quietly. No sense in worrying the others by talking to jewelry in public.
The gems glimmered in a matter that seemed almost proud. ~I am the World Serpent, Jormungand. I am Apep, the Crawler in Chaos. Pretty much every mention of a giant snake involves me. And more importantly, I am your most loyal friend, Unsung.~
Well. That was certainly a lot to take in. Nemo’s mythology was a little rusty, considering the patches of memory missing from most of his life, but those were things that certainly sounded important. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
It sighed, although how it managed to do that without lungs or a body was beyond him.
~You are the Unsung. The Nameless. The hero that goes unmentioned. Something else with capitals in the middle of sentences, I’m sure. It’s just a part of who you are, and the title that those of us who recognize you use to identify you, as you are indeed… you know, nameless.~
Nemo wondered briefly how it was possible for a metal snake to come off as snide.
The Serpent’s Whisper
Jenna woke up outside the station. Nemo, the boy who had just moved into her home, had carried her out after a gas pipe had broken. She had blushed fiery red after hearing this from the EMTs, who had been called after Nemo came out of the station, a girl over his shoulder. Nemo was on the other side of the ambulance at the moment, giving his statement to the police. A few had gone down to confirm it, returning quickly. Each agreed that there was definitely a weird smell, ‘like rotten egg’ one said, and closed the area off with caution tape.
“If you’re feeling better, you can go,” one of the paramedics said. “No sense in you hanging around unless you want to go to the hospital.”
Jenna thanked them for what they had done and walked around the ambulance to where Nemo was finishing. He was better looking in person than he was in the picture her father had sent. He was tall and slim, but well built. Whatever he had done before he lost his memory, he’d stayed in shape. His hair was long but not girlishly so, and it strayed just into his eyes. And speaking of his eyes… she shook her head. She was almost 18. Too old to be swooning like this over some stranger. Even if he had saved her life.
Nemo turned to her, noticing her stare. “Is everything okay?” Concern filled his gray green eyes.
She turned away, blushing just a bit. Dammit Jenna, play it cool. Even if he is mysterious amnesia boy, he’s still going to be living with you. Off limits, house rules. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” Jenna started back towards their home, trying to walk far enough ahead of him to give her face time to cool.
“So what exactly happened? Did I just, like, hit my head?” Jenna asked after a few minutes of walking in silence. Nemo’s eyes flitted to the ground behind her, guilty.
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
She laughed at him, but didn’t turn. “You don’t talk a lot, do you? Strong silent type?”
“I’m not that strong.” He thought back to that thing in the subway station, and how he had shoved it back into the train’s path. Good way to start off, Nemo. Lie.
“Well, you carried my fat ass out of there,” she joked, earning a smirk from him. She turned around, studying him. She pressed the crosswalk signal, waiting a moment. “Seriously, though. Thank you. Most people would have panicked. You just carried me out and called the police.”
He felt his heart start to speed up again. “I wasn’t that calm.” He fought the urge to retch as he recalled the sensation of the wood tearing that thing’s throat.
She rolled her eyes. “I think I’m going to call you Mr. Modest.” She stepped back into the crosswalk as the signal changed and swiveled on her heel. When he didn’t respond, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Are you okay? You look like you’re going to puke.”
He waved it off. “Just the smell, is all. Not a fan of eggs.”
She raised an eyebrow in response. “Sensitive, I guess.”
Nemo struggled for a moment to catch up to her. They continued on in silence for another moment before she gently bumped into him with her shoulder. Caught off guard, he stumbled to the side. He was startled at first until he saw the grin on her face. He jostled her back, sending her sprawling. His eyes widened with horror and he reached to help her out only to find her laughing as she stood. “You don’t mess around,” she stated as she brushed herself off. She looked up at his face, and after a second, seemed to decide that it was all in good fun. “Let’s not do that in rush hour, though.”
They reached the house without further incident, stepping through the sturdy wooden door. “Dad, we’re back,” she announced. Silva came around the partition separating the kitchen from the living room.
He grinned and hugged her tight. “Glad to see you’re okay.” He looked at Nemo approvingly. “Got my little girl back in one piece, I see. You’ll make a good addition to the house yet.”
Jenna sat at the table, giving a quick look to the paints to make sure they were all in the appropriate places before grabbing up a bottle and squirting some of the paint onto a dirty wooden pallet and setting to work. Silva put a hand on Nemo’s shoulder. “I told you that if you got back in time, I’d set you up with an extracurricular, right?” He led Nemo out into the backyard.
Yard was a generous term. It was more of an alley that had never been paved, and walled off on two sides. It was filled with junk, but not in a disorderly manner. Everything had a place it belonged, even if it didn’t really look worth keeping. “Just in case you were wondering, I’m not a hoarder,” Silva said defensively. “I’m a collector.”
He gestured towards the yard. “So, pick something.”
Nemo blinked, confused.
Silva sighed. “People, even amnesiacs, have an unconscious form of memory. They naturally gravitate towards things that seem familiar, or enjoyable, even if they can’t identify why. Marco, Steve, and Jenna all picked something from this pile, and they’ve stuck with what they drew.” Silva smiled like an idiot, looking on his piles of random objects. “So, pick something.”
Nemo started to pick through the piles, wondering where Silva had found the time to gather and transport it all, and marveled at the odd organizational skills he possessed. He threw a small metal cup behind him and sighed with exasperation. How was any of this supposed to be interesting? The cup hit the top of a pile, sending it toppling.
Silva’s eyes widened with horror. “No, no no no no!” The pile landed on another one, and gravity took care of the rest. Within 30 seconds every tower of trash had become a part of the chaotic domino chain. When the dust cleared, almost nothing remained standing in the yard. Silva’s face reflected the state of his beloved junk piles perfectly. Nemo slowly picked up the metal cup and carefully set it back in place.
He was about to apologize when something caught his eye from just outside his vision. A metal band had rolled out from one of the trash heaps, parts glinting through the grime in the sun. Although dirty, it’s silver surface didn’t appear to be tarnished. Nemo picked it up, turning it over in his hands. He thought that if he cleaned it he might even be able to tell what it was supposed to be.
Silva solemnly placed a hand on Nemo’s shoulder. “Well whatever that is, I’m glad you found something you like. Go wash it off upstairs. I’ll… I need a minute.” His head drooped.
Nemo started to apologize. “I─”
Silva held up a finger. “There are no words.”
Nemo took his newfound prize inside. Jenna glanced up, a headphone dangling from one ear. “Everything okay? I heard banging.” He turned towards the window looking out into the yard. Her eyes widened. “Oh my god, I can see out the window. What did you─” she stopped short as he took off up the stairs, face burning. The sounds of drums were leaking through the ceiling. Marco seems to be hard at work.
Nemo took the mystery object into the bathroom and set to cleaning it. It was covered in mud, clumps of it obscuring its form. Those were easy enough to take care of on their own, but they didn’t seem to have been wet with water to start. The whole thing smelled suspiciously of grape soda, leading Nemo to wonder if the piles of trash had indeed just been trash. He grabbed some bleach from under the sink and started to remove the cap from the bottle.
~No! Not bleach! Bad idea!~
Nemo jumped at the voice. He looked towards the door, but no one was there. He looked at the bracer. …No. Couldn’t be. He put the bleach away all the same and started up the tap, filling the basin with hot water. He put the bracer in to soak. It was definitely a stylized something, although he couldn’t say what exactly just yet. It was about five inches long, and big enough that if he wanted to he could wear it comfortably. If anything, I may have found somebody’s costume jewelry. He decided to check in on Jenna downstairs while he waited.
She was deep in concentration, her brush a blur across the canvas as she blended oils together effortlessly. She was painting a landscape from what Nemo could tell, a mountain looming over a field, a few trails carved through the land leading towards the blank parts of the canvas. She saw him looking and hastily covered it. “Do you mind? I don’t like performing for an audience.” He raised his hands defensively and headed back up. Steven was just leaving his room.
Steven raised a hand in greeting, smiling. “How’s it going, man?” he asked, good-humored. Nemo managed not to stare at the patch covering his eye this time.
“Not bad, Steve. Found a thing in the garbage. How’s the eye?”
Steven looked out the window and laughed. “You did that?” He turned back to Nemo and lifted the patch. It was red and swollen, and the area around it was purple and shiny, but the eye itself was clear. “I finally got it to open today, and the surgery to bring my good looks back is tomorrow.” He grinned, full of excitement.
Nemo’s own mouth widened in a smile, and he decided he liked Steven. “Fantastic! I’ll make sure to write something funny on the cast.”
Steve shook his head, still grinning, and headed down to the kitchen. “I’m sure I’ll get enough of that from Jenna. She’ll probably paint me up a sarcophagus in my sleep.”
Nemo laughed and walked back to the bathroom. He pulled the bracer out of the sink and wiped it off with a cloth, dirt and grime clinging to the fuzzy surface. The soda smell was gone, and all that was really left was to polish it. He rolled it over, something nagging at the back of his mind about it. It was as its face turned to him that he realized it, dropping it with a start. It was the serpent from his dream on the plane. The emerald eyes flickered.
~It’s about time that you found me, Unsung.~
Nemo dropped it back into the basin. No no no. No. Bracelets don’t talk. This isn’t the thing from my dream, and I’m not crazy. He rolled his eyes. Unsung. Whatever that means. He grabbed up the bracer again only for the eyes to flash once more.
~Hey, could you not drop me this time? Immortal serpent or not, that still hurts. Speaking of, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to put bleach on metal? Oxidizes the hell out of it.~
His heart started racing and he reached out for the counter to steady himself. “Okay. So. Monster goat men and talking bracelets.”
~I’m a gauntlet, thank you.~
“Right, sorry. Gauntlet.” If I’m addressing it, might as well let it call the shots. He walked back into his room, polishing at it absentmindedly.
~That feels incredible after a 60 years in a dump. Then Specks outside finds me and takes me back as part of his ‘collection’.~
Nemo shut the door and flopped face first onto his bed. It was too much. That thing in the subway had been one thing. He might even have believed his own gas story if he didn’t remember the sickening sensations he had felt. But this? This was irrefutable.
“So, what do I call you?” he asked it quietly. No sense in worrying the others by talking to jewelry in public.
The gems glimmered in a matter that seemed almost proud. ~I am the World Serpent, Jormungand. I am Apep, the Crawler in Chaos. Pretty much every mention of a giant snake involves me. And more importantly, I am your most loyal friend, Unsung.~
Well. That was certainly a lot to take in. Nemo’s mythology was a little rusty, considering the patches of memory missing from most of his life, but those were things that certainly sounded important. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
It sighed, although how it managed to do that without lungs or a body was beyond him.
~You are the Unsung. The Nameless. The hero that goes unmentioned. Something else with capitals in the middle of sentences, I’m sure. It’s just a part of who you are, and the title that those of us who recognize you use to identify you, as you are indeed… you know, nameless.~
Nemo wondered briefly how it was possible for a metal snake to come off as snide.