exsiliumlogs | I will sing like April showers

Entry tags:

I will sing like April showers

Date & Time: Early January time
Location: In Exsilium
Characters: Jericho and Francœur
Summary: Boy meets giant hideous monster.
Warnings: Bad lyrics.

In the alleyway, away from the people, Francœur hid in the shadows. They all screamed at him here. Singing did not work; they did not stay long enough to give him the chance. Even in his disguise, even when he tried to use Medivh's ring to communicate, they all ran away in terror. The monster sat on the ground, his legs curled close to his body.

The strings on his guitar sang with just the slightest touch. He turned it in his hands and began to play a melody. He was not going to hide away his gift this time; someone was bound to hear. The music was sorrowful and lonely. He played from his heart. The voice he had was unfitting for his grotesque appearance. His voice was beautiful and unexpectedly high-pitched.

"The cries the screams
It's the monster of Paris
Now for the encore play
I see them all run away

This act cannot last I've learned from my past
What I sing can you see my heart is in my melody"

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Being in the tunnels didn't make work any less work, but it did keep the cold from snatching all Joey's stamina away right from the start. He was luckier than the dogs up top, that was certain. It put him in the right place and time, hauling heavy bags of gear for one of the men in charge of de-icing roads and important transport lines, to hear the guitar and tinny singing that went along with it; it was something he could've easily missed over the scrape scrape of dragging the heavier of the bags along behind him. Between steps and the dragging sounds behind him, the rhythm he had and the guitar had broke out of sync and gave him pause.

Joey stopped and straightened up, turning his head this way and that toward the small number of little tunnels where the sound could originate from. It was surprising to hear music...well, more than simple humming, anyway. Was it Johnny? It seemed a little too gentle to be him...

There was only one tunnel with a pair of glowing eyes looking back at the boy. The mask could hide the size of his eyes, but it could not change the natural glow it had. As his song ended, the beautiful voice became inhuman chattering. Would this one stay? The poor boy looked overburdened. He wished to help him, if he would just stay.

The monster got up. Too large for the tunnel he was in, he could not stand at his full height. He called out to the boy but all that came out were chirps and a rattling hiss. A white, gloved hand was the first to emerge from the shadows. He braced himself against the wall so he could get out. Now he could stand to his full height. He cradled the guitar in his hand; it looked like a toy in comparison to his size.

He held an open hand out to the boy; his red eyes looked down to the heavier bag.

Joey has experience with giant monsters – particularly those with the more insect, arachnid-like looks; a boy with a spider for a head tried to kidnap him once!

That said, such looks aren't framed as friendly in his mind, and the second he catches glimpse of the shape of Francœur emerging from the dark of the tunnel, clicking and chirping and all such, he paled, his own eyes going large with horror.

It's a monster!

The whites of his eyes began to blacken as he let go of the strap of one bag, let the other fall from his back with a heavy thump. The gesture Francœur made was returned with Joey's own hands raising defensively, staggering a little as he nearly tripped over the bag behind him.

He drew his hand back sharply, as if he burned it. His hand clenched, held near his chest. It was the only hint to the tension he held. Wide eyes watched his every move. His head tipped to the side. Would the boy fall? Would he run? He did not know the reason his eyes changed, only that they looked at him like many other frightened people before him. Francœur only watched for his reaction; he did not dare do anything else out of fear that he would make matters worse.

He'd anticipated an attack, and got about the same kind of recoil he himself did. Joey stared, unblinking, trying to anticipate a move that would be reason do jump and...possess a giant cockroach? Bug? He wasn't sure what he was looking at or–

Wait. Is that a tiny guitar?

Joey's face washed over with confusion, and with a blink, the darkness left his eyes, clear and white again. He frowned, his own head starting to tilt. With the initial panic starting to ebb, he could begin to frame this encounter in with what he knew about Exsilium. And if he knew anything, it was that it wasn't just people getting dragged into things.

So in this case...

The boy was not running away, and he looked less scared than moments before. Francœur held hope in his heart that the child would stay. Seeing that he looked at the guitar, Francœur cradled it gently under his chin. Hesitantly, he smiled.

He chirped gently. Did the boy like the guitar? He plucked a few strings and he hummed. Yes, he sang that song and he played that guitar. He hoped he would understand and see that he was not dangerous.

The little twang and hum was met with more of the same gawk. Even for this place, thought Joey, this has to be kind of ridiculous!

Of course, he couldn't stand like that forever. His mouth twisted a little as he swallowed, still not entirely sold on his own safety despite the gestures of good will and music.

But...maybe it was right to try to give this...whatever-he-was a shot? Joey wasn't entirely sold on that, either, but hey. He'd been friends with a green kid who could turn into stuff like Francœur.

Joey shifted, lifting his foot and stepping over the bag that had been behind him, and backed up to the other side of the corridor, tucking his hands behind his back. If worse came to worst, he knew he had ample chance to retaliate without them, what those big, buggy eyes peering back at him.

So he stopped, stood, and stared.

His heart jumped when the boy backed away. It was only with an amount of self-control that he refrained from doing anything rash. Eerie eyes stared at him moments after he stopped. The boy stayed.

Slowly, he put his guitar away. The strap, at its widest, could only fit around his shoulder. With that same careful motion, he reached for the heaviest bag. Francœur was not particularly strong, especially his arms. However, given his size, he could lift the bag without trouble.

He chirped, and his eyes widened. That was not a good way to communicate. Without a song, he could no longer speak. The ring on is finger chimed beautifully as he tapped it. At first, he started writing slowly with the magic ring. Once it was clear that he was only writing, he moved faster. A trail of smoke followed and it kept its shape in the air, leaving a message.

I want only to help you
I promise, I won't hurt a soul
You carry a heavy burden
Tell me, where does it go?

What he watched unfold was very plainly magic to Joey's eyes, and he gaped in awe, doubly surprised to find smoke taking form of words. Francaeur shifted from a monster to a magician in a series of deft strokes and earnest words. It took a moment to look past the feat and read the actual request.

Help? Burden?

Oh...

He looked down at the bag he'd stepped over, the other one he'd dropped in his surprise. There came a series of double-takes, up and down between Francaeur and the bags before it fully clicked. His mouth twitched, feeling his face flush with embarrassment.

Did he really just want to help?

His eyes winced, holding up both hands and shaking his head. No, no...it's alright...

The more Jericho looked him over, the wider his smile grew. The boy was beginning to understand. He curled his arm around the bag, waiting happily for the moment he would fully understand and he could help.

Only, he did not want his help. Francœur's expression changed in a blink from happiness to confusion. His mouth hung open but all that came out were more chirps. While there was no translation for the noises he made, his facial expressions were apparent. He looked at the bag, considering the situation. Well, if the boy was sure.

He held the bag out for Jericho to take.

The boy reached out in turn, slowly, still treading as if in some kind of...almost-dream. The kind where if he wasn't too careful, it'd turn out badly.

But the weight transferred to him with no other consequences than a little too-heavy tug of weight dropping down before he could catch it. Oof. He puffed, smiling weakly, feeling sillier by the moment.

He shouldered the bag, bending to the side most weighted down to snatch at the remaining, fidgeting to make sure he wasn't going to trip or topple over when he moved. Once secured, he hesitated, looking back at Francaeur.

He held up a hand, mouthing the words: Wait here.

Obviously he couldn't go marching up to his temp boss with a giant bug-thing in tow, but...but somehow, he couldn't just go marching up and not come back. So maybe...

His eyes never left the boy. Aside from blinking and tipping his head to one side, Francœur was still. Observing was all he did. He did not help; Jericho made it clear that he did not want that.

His mandibles twitched as Jericho motioned to him. Those subtle movements accentuated his expressions. It began as the surprise of having the boy communicate to him, to the curious expression as he worked out what Jericho meant. There were no spoken words, yet he understood. He nodded once. He would wait there. Exactly what he was waiting for, he did not know and he did not ask, but he would wait.

It was the right decision, Joey was sure. No way could he have explained Francaeur well enough, if at all, considering the absence of a voice...

Still, he felt bad. Felt bad for leaving that...guy? Thing. To stand and wait. The longer it took to get the supplies delivered, the more he wondered if he really was going to just stand there; hopefully he had something to do.

Well, he does have that little guitar...

Joey decided it was silly to worry, but worry was what he did all the same. It made him a pace quicker, trotting back the way he came, slowing at each intersection, trying to remember which tunnel was–

Oh.

Well, no need to worry about missing it; Francaeur wasn't exactly hard to miss.

Once Joey was gone, Francœur sighed. He did not lose hope, still trusting that the boy would come back. Now he just had to find something to do while he waited. He looked around.

Something was coming; he could hear it. He wondered if it was the boy. Yet it was not a boy, or a person, but a fluffy cat. It looked at him for just a few seconds before it began hissing at him. That was not surprising; cats have hissed at him before. It did not make him very happy, but it did not surprise him. Then it started leaping at him, its tail and back raised high.

That never happened before. So now, Joey would come in time to see a cat, much smaller than even the monster's foot, chasing Francœur around in circles.

At least he stayed in the area.

He was both relieved and unnerved to spot Francaeur again – really, a big, scary guy like that in the middle of a tunnel...considering he hadn't heard any blood-curdling screams, it was probably safe to bet there'd been no trouble.

In approaching, his footsteps slowed, growing meeker once again. Really, he hadn't thought of what he'd do or try to say or–

Wait, was that a cat?

...Chasing him?

He's like ten feet tall!

On the next ring around, Joey was close enough to step in and deftly intercept the cat, who squalled a little but seemed quick to ease into the arms, claws latching on as it growled in its throat. The boy turned so that Francaeur was out of the cat's sight, and that seemed to help a little, but it was still work to calm a fidgety feline.

Was it over? He chirped curiously at the boy's back. He did not want to scare the cat further so he did not move any closer. Yet not seeing what could happen made him worried. He hoped that the cat would not hurt him, and that the boy would not hurt it.

Every second that passed felt longer than the last. He hesitated for what seemed like an eternity. All he could muster was to make a strange sound. It was a whine, like that of a much smaller animal. Please don't hurt it.

The cat growled and meowed in agitation, still hearing the over-sized bug and clearly wanting a whack at him; Joey's face twisted into a grimace as he tried to hush it and evade any swatting paws as he hurried and banked a turn down another tunnel. A fair few steps down he tossed the cat along the rest of the way and sucked loudly through his teeth to try and frighten it off. Somehow that, combined with a heavy boot stomp gave the message he want, and Joey wound up being more intimidating than Francaeur for the one and probably only time in his life.

Unscathed (thank goodness for combat-ready attire), he returned to take stock of the cat's giant mouse, brow pinching. Are...you alright?

Francœur watched. What he could not see, he heard. He clenched his hands close to his body, hoping that the boy would not be too harsh with it. When the boy came back, he did not look harmed and from the sound of it, neither was the cat. He uttered a short, relieved chirp. But...

...But what was Joey staring at him for? His red eyes turned wide.

After a beat, Joey lifted his hands. It was a long shot, assuming a bug with magical smoke-words was going to understand sign, but he felt compelled to try. So he did, slowly, trying to punctuate each word with enough stillness between them, watching expectantly.

Who. Are. You.

Having lived on a professor's monkey for most of his life, Francœur had the opportunity to see and learn many things. American Sign Language was not one of them, however. At least he knew what the signs meant. The boy could not speak.

He said a chirp, which did not help, but he held his hand out as if motioning Joey to wait. He removed the crystal ring from his gloved finger and he held it delicately. While his own hands were large, his fingers were quite slim; the ring should fit the boy. Magic was not necessary to use it; after all, Francœur himself was no more magical than the average flea. He was just a mutant.

He moved a hand, pointing at the ring, then he held his palm out to the boy, and finally, he mimicked drawing the words on the air. He chirped with every gesture and ended with a happy, drawn out set of clicks.

Joey was pretty keen on body language and gestures – he had to be! – and was able to take the offer in stride, extending his hand and letting the little ring drop into his palm. He stared down at it for a beat before Francaeur's gesturing called for his attention.

Right...He was writing in the air, wasn't he? He looked back at the ring, slowly fitting it on his index finger. Wearing this then...a magic ring?

Jericho, using magic. He couldn't help but feel a childish spark of interest in that. With one more glance at the bug to confirm intent, he drew a breath, squared his shoulders, and lifted a hand to write.

Hello

Communication at last! He made a short, raspy gasp to express his delight. Just one word meant so much to him. That was because of all words the boy could have used, he used a greeting as if he were not regarding him as some scary gigantic monster.

He waved at the boy and he chirped, greeting him in return.

His mouth twitched, amazed to see the magic in action, to see it actually work. It's not like talking, but it feels close.

Joey waved back, albeit sheepishly, hesitant to really push his luck with the thing. What if it had a...a wordcount limit, or something?

"Prr," he chirped.

If the ring had such limitations to it, he did not know. Not that it mattered; he wanted the boy to write more! He reached into his white coat to take out his tablet. While he had only one magic ring, there was still the tablet to type on to communicate. Long, gloved fingers danced across the device, creating a rhythm as he typed. He wrote,

O, child of golden hair
Please write more in the air
Give it a try, don't be shy
Let all your words fly

The sight of the words on the tablet set a troubled look on Joey's face. It wasn't that it was in poetry (that was actually rather fascinating), but the fact that there was a tablet at all.

You could've given me that instead...
This thing seems more special.

The boy's troubled look was met with Francœur's smile.

But who could resist
Words floating like this?

It is a wonder is it not?
To share with you
Needs no second thought.

The remark gave him pause, made his stomach knot a little. Joey had been awful quick to judge a book by the cover, but so far, this guy had been nothing but nice. Strange, but nice.

He'd have to apologize.

But first,

What's your name?

Edited 2014-02-01 02:43 (UTC)

There was no need to write out another poem for this. The answer was right there on his tablet. He pointed at the corner of the screen with the name field, which had Francœur filled in it. He turned his palm up, chirping questioningly in a way that asked for the boy's name.

Oh, right. That got a timid wince and smile out of him, and Joey ducked his head, nodding. Right...his name.

Rather, the one he could give to strangers.

Jericho

What a nice name for a nice child. This was going well, even with all the shocks and surprises. After all, Francœur knew what he himself looked like. Even his dear friends back home had all screamed at him once. He made a happy sound. It sounded like a bird in love.

He waited; Francœur was not the sort to talk but rather wait for others to talk to him first. Now that they both had a way of communicating, he simply watched patiently for more words from Jericho.

Initiating conversation was rare for Jericho, and rarer still was being the driving force. It was out of his comfort zone, but there was no longer need for actual fear of it. Somehow, even with Francaeur being a huge bug in a hat, Joey was pretty convinced he wasn't going to have to fight.

Speaking of being a huge bug in a hat...

Have you been hiding down here the whole time?

His shoulders sank as he sighed, and his mandibles moved less lively. He was not happy to admit it, but being in the presence of Jericho made it much less sad to think about.

No matter which songs I play
Whether by night or by day
So many have seen me and cried
I find new ways to hide.

Joey frowned, prompted by the obvious body language of the bug as much as the words that followed. He tried to imagine what it was like, which was easy if one excluded lumbering bug-weight, clicking mandibles, and most anything to do with being a bug...the rest of the feelings, he thought, he could understand.

Poor guy...

But– wait. Joey blinked, brow furrowing with a thought.

Why don't you use one of the disguises?
They still have those don't they?
The kind used for missions...

He chirped curiously, his head canted to one side. The only disguise he knew of was the one he was currently wearing. However, it seemed the people here were far more observant than the Parisians of 1910 were. A simple mask and a fancy suit just was not enough here. Jericho was the first to tell him of another disguise. No one else told him, probably because he could not ask about it to begin with.

If it exists, I was not told of this
May I implore you tell me more?

It's how we hide in different places...
Otherwise we would scare people in the past.

That pretty much answered the question of whether or not Francaeur was pushed out on a mission, willingly or not. It seemed like he could benefit, though, in getting that technology in-hand.

Er, pincer. Claw?

It was scaring people in the present that had him worried. Just then, he heard another scream. A woman passing by the tunnel saw him and quickly ran away. He shut his eyes and with one sigh, he seemed to sink from the heavy weight of sorrow.

Could this disguise be used now?
Be it past or present anyhow?
I would use it everyday
So no more would run away.

The scream caught Joey off-guard, making him startle and freeze up. It took a beat for him to shake it off and look back to the writing, chewing on the inside of his lip.

His head shook slowly, doubtful; he had no idea, himself. Why would he? He was fairly normal-looking – more than average, comparing the present company.

But there was only one way to find out, right?

He did a quick glance over his shoulder, around Francaeur, before turning and gesturing him to follow. It'd be a bit of a trek, but getting to the transport room was the first step into finding out if what he wanted could be done.

Francœur, quite woefully, was becoming used to the screams again. It took watching Jericho's reaction for him to notice the difference.

Yet there was hope in the midst of this sorrow. The child was thinking of something. He did not know what it was, but he trusted that it would help. He followed without a doubt in his heart. His gait was quiet and cautious, which could be a good trait because he followed just a step behind Jericho. With his careful way of moving, there was no risk that he would accidentally step on the boy or bump into him.

While Francaeur concerned himself with not running over the boy, said boy was more concerned with taking the path of least resistance, which meant less people. Their journey became a stop-and-start bit of stealth and timing, sneaking from one shady hidey-hole to another. There was really no telling what could come of spooking the wrong person, but for how long they'd all gone without some major incident with the public, Joey wasn't terribly afraid.

Actually, it was almost kind of fun, sneaking along. It wasn't like they were doing anything bad, after all.

He waved Francaeur over after one last check of the entryway to the transporter, tapping the keypad to open up the door and head on inside. It was a much more forgiving location, obviously, given who was in charge of it now. And now...he had to figure out where to find the technology his bug-friend needed.

The journey went without incident. Sometimes, Francœur stuck his head out of hiding further than he should or he chirped a little too loudly, but it all went well.

He lingered at the doorway, looking at the keypad. It made interesting sounds when Jericho entered the code. Distracted, the door closed in front of him. He pressed a button. It made a sound! He chittered happily. He entered the same code Jericho put in; he had followed him so closely that he saw it. There was a rhythm in the way the keys beeped.

The door opened again. Much as he would have liked to hear the keypad again, he went inside.

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I will sing like April showers

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