No One (Open)

[Ein]

It was a rather warm day for Winter, the sun shining in a cloudless sky. Usually days like this, when the air was crisp and the breeze persistent, it tended to lean toward freezing, but the coming spring made itself apparent on this fine afternoon, a swath of warmth coming on every gentle push of wind. It played with the wemic's hair where he was laying on the shallow shore of the lake, it took his long bangs and toyed with them, knocking them against his forehead before swiftly batting them away and back again. Though this annoyed him, he didn't show any signs of it. Though the hair in his eye was aggravating, nothing could beat a nice warm breeze like this. He lifted his head, pointed his slightly muzzle like nose to the sky and paused to enjoy it. Its affect trickled down his body as it ran invisible fingers through the trail of hair down his front. Some of the thick mane that covered his lower more lion-like torso was probably tossed around too, but he didn't notice due to its thickness.

He sighed happily as the wind died down and he returned to his afternoon task of people watching as he lounged languidly on the edge of the lake, his front paws just barely submerged in the water, which was even warmer than the breeze. If his mane had been a little less prone to holding onto water for dear life, he might've gone for a swim. But, as it was, he was heavy with hair so he stayed mostly dry by choice.

As his brown eyes scanned the horizon, he noticed how invisible he seemed to be. Usually, people stared as he walked by, because his species was nomadic and preferred the wildlife and nature side of things, he doubted that many of the city dwellers had ever even seen a wemic, let alone a white one. He usually turned heads all around. But today, with the sun shining brightly and the crystal waters looking crisp and clear, nothing could distract the locals from just having a good time, and allowing other creatures, even the oddball ones, to enjoy their day without scrutiny. It didn't bother him either way, he was used to the stares and the whispers behind his back, the hot flash of someone staring or the odd ringing in his ears when someone said something too loud. It couldn't be helped, tauric creatures like himself were just... weird. All of them, not even just the lion-like ones. He liked to combat this by finding weaknesses and weirdness in those who considered themselves normal.

For example, the family to his left, on the far west side of the lake. A mother, probably human or at worst some sort of mage, sat with her legs folded on a fur blanket set out on the grass. She watched gracefully as a man, presumably her husband and also probably human, dangled their small child above the water, dipping her toes in gentle before hefting her up in the air with a 'whooshing' sound. The child laughed like it was the most fun she'd ever had, kicking her legs in the water before her father lifted her again. She must've felt like a swan, swooping down to kiss the water before soaring back into the clouds. Ein tried not to smile. He wondered briefly if wemic parents could lift their oddly shaped children like that, wondered if... his mother...

The thought went fuzzy as he ran a clawed hand down his face, clearing his mind immediately. Behind him, safely out of splash distance, Buckshot meowed, immediately sensing the turmoil in his mind. The wemic looked over his shoulder at the big brown Maine Coon.

"I'm fine bud." There was a pause and the wemic's gaze focused on some far away point before he seemed to crash down back to reality with a shake of his head. "No, I'm not just saying that. I mean it, I'm good. It was just a..." He trailed off, searching for words. The cat meowed again as if he noticed his master stalling. The wemic smiled at the cat. "Yeah, just a bad memory."

He turned back to the lake, stole a glance at the child and her father but chose purposefully to find someone else to devote his attention to, to appease his cat more than anything else, to prove that he was indeed alright, that the memory was fleeting and only slightly bothersome. He scanned the distant stand of trees and the wide open meadow that spread beyond it, watching as more people filed in from their various homes to spend the beautiful day outdoors. They were all smiling and laughing, some men in some inflatable rings were drinking and toasting each other, a small group of children with one or two supervising adults sang some ridiculous song that made them laugh every time they finished the refrain. The wemic made a face. He was alone on his side of the lake, no one in either direction for at least 100 feet. Other than Bucky, who still kept a respectful distance from the water, he had no one.

[Magnus Einson]

Magnus was thankful for it being warm for once.

It was one of the few days where he didn’t hate being outside. But rather enjoyed the time he could. Perhaps it was this that brought him out to the lake for a little bit of relaxation. Instead, he got bombarded with... All of the things he hated.

The happiness, the joy, the parents... Screw them all.

It wasn’t that he was an exceptionally bitter person. But each time he saw kids happily enjoying their life he was reminded how harsh of one he had so far. If his guardian, the innkeeper had been nice to him he imagined he might have had a great life. Grown up strong and happy.

Instead here he was, watching them all with an unpleasant frown as he carefully got to cleaning his clothes. He had very few and one might consider them rags but they needed to be kept clean enough - or he’d look even worse off than he already did.

Dirt had clung to his body like an old friend recently. Maybe because he’d been taking up residence in a barn. But he didn’t care about that or his begragled appearance. After all on this side of the lake there was only one, furry looking... Man thing.

Quietly, he sat there on his knees and cleaned. Sighing heavily, axe on one side of him and ignoring the laughter of the families. “Man, how do I even get stains this bad out?” He grumbled as he held up his bits of deerskin with annoyance.

He knew it was going to be a long day.

[Ein]

It took the wemic several minutes to notice that he was in fact not completely alone on his side of the lake. To his right was a boy, no older than 14, carefully and meticulously cleaning some rags… clothes? They were too big to just be rags. The beastman watched him curiously for a moment as the boy asked a question out loud, which immediately caught his attention. But he was torn about whether or not the question was directed at him or was more of a stream of consciousness situation. He turned away, as though acting like he didn’t hear the boy, but after a moment, he sighed and slowly raised himself to his feet. He paused to stretch, raising his toned arms high over his head while leaning forward and stretching out one of his hind legs. His joints popped and he groaned a bit but, after that brief pause, he turned and padded over to where the boy was struggling to do laundry.

To appear non-threatening, the wemic stood with his clawed hands clasped behind his back. The claws on his paws were retractable unless he tensed his toes, which he did not, again, trying to appear helpful, not dangerous. He tilted his head a tad, the movement dropping a white bang into his brown eyes, he reached up to brush it away with one hand before returning it to its place in the small of his back. He studied the boy for a moment, taking in his short brown hair and his alabaster skin. He looked and smelled human, but one could never be sure in Kotar.

“Those are some pretty gnarly stains.” The wemic commented, softly, not demanding in anyway, simply conversational. But in the middle of his statement, he started to look around, eyeing a stand of trees behind them. He paused. “Allow me to make a suggestion…”

He trailed off, turning away from the boy to pad over to a bush between the trees. It was green and leafy despite the season, it was one of those plants that didn’t die in the winter, it was related to tropical ferns, only as ferns thrived in warm climates, this one thrived in the cold. He carefully took a few leaves, cutting the stems short with his claws. He brought them over to the boy and, though towering over him, the wemic was kind and soft, bending over to hand the leaves to the boy.

“Try rubbing these over the stains. You’d think it was like grass, that it would make its own stains but it doesn’t, just helps lift the grease from the fabric.”

[Magnus Einson]

Magnus jumped a little.

His head turned quietly toward the giant... Lion man. Damn he was huge. He shied away a bit at first, especially given he wasn’t exactly the best appearance right now for meeting people. Between the dirty appearance and the rags he himself was wearing.

He did however calm himself a bit when the man softly offered the leaves. Wow, that was... Practical. And most people didn’t go out of their way for a street urchin - or practically every person. “Wow, thanks, never thought of trying that!” He managed as he began to do so - of course it began to work easily. “Man I’ve been struggling with that a while, y’know? One thing I miss about having a home - cleaning was so much easier.” He chuckled.

He then mentioned. “Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you by the way,” he then motioned to the cat. “You have a pretty cat though.”

[Ein]

The wemic smiled softly and nodded his head, eyes closed as he remembered having a home. Sure, now days he had a house to call his own, a soft bed to sleep in, a kitchen to cook in, a fireplace to keep the place warm. Sure, he had a house, but it wasn’t a “home”. Home was where you went when you were missing a piece of yourself and needed something else to fill it up, like warm milk from your mother, a bedtime story from your father. Home was the people that were important to you, the people that you could trust and put all of your faith into. Home was the gentle hands brushing your fur in front of the hearth, home was the soft lullaby on a woman’s lips, home was just… home, an entity all its own, and this train of thought lead the wemic to wonder if he’d ever really had a home.

His brow furrowed when he realized that he hadn’t, he’d always been an outcast no matter where he went. Humans and wemics got along like grease and water, he suspected that even if his color was normal for a wemic, he’d still get the ass end of things living in a human city. By contrast, most wemics were drifters, nomads, herding sheep or cattle or just following prey and living in tents and such. It was not the kind of life that he wanted, he wanted a home, a place where he could love and be loved, a place to lay his head and rest his paws. He sighed softly, realizing how weird he was for his species. He wasn’t nomadic, he wasn’t a herder, he lived in a city and, oh yeah, his fur was white which meant he was a bad omen. Definitely a weirdo.

He opened his eyes when something furry brushed against his legs. He looked down to see Bucky poised between his two front paws, rubbing his face against his wrists. The wemic knelt, which was a little awkward for him, but it allowed the cat the space he needed to leap into his arms. Bucky clambered onto the wemic’s shoulders, draping himself around his master’s neck like some sort of living scarf. He meowed once, demanding pats, and Ein obliged by scratching the cat under his chin. He half smiled, a little shy.

“Thanks… He’s kind of my only friend.” The liontaur admitted somewhat sadly. But he waved it off.

“You didn’t disturb me, there’s no need to apologize. It’s just a glorious day to be lakeside, species of all kinds coming together to enjoy the warm water and the kind weather. You have no less right to be here than I do.”

[Magnus Einson]

Magnus noticed his sadness a bit. Something he could relate to.

Honestly he probably got the feeling that he was a lot like him. But he didn’t want to be the one to whine, he never had been. He almost always took everything with a tough exterior. So instead he deciddd to crack a joke. “Friends? What’s a friend? I’m pretty sure I Don’t have a lot on the streets either,” he admitted jokingly. “It’s kind of hard to keep them when you’re all fighting over the same alleyway to sleep in where you’re least likely to get mugged. Or have rats chew on your flesh.”

After a long pause he explained. “It’s better than where I was though. Basically enslaved to the innkeeper that adopted me,” He grimaced a little, running his hand along his back and the old scars he had. “I’m lucky I was able to get away from that. So it’s the lesser of two evils.”

When he noted his right to be enjoying the day he only smirked a bit.

A lot of people didn’t think that, a lot were depressed by homeless kids and wanted them far away from their watchful eye. As he continued to clean his rags he nodded his head. “Thanks, I don’t get a lot of that these days. I got chased out of the barn today because someone thought I was “paluting” it with my filth,” he admitted. “It’s all good though, I think I’ve found a good spot just near here I’ll camp for the night, if I’m lucky and someone doesn’t beat me to it.”

He then added. “I’m Magnus by the way.”

[Ein]

The wemic formed a small but sad sort of smile at the boy’s attempt at a joke. It really wasn’t one, just a declaration of loneliness, of being on your own in this world. The taurian had become used to such a life, it was really all that he knew, the disdain, the hatred, the distrust, that deep longing to be accepted by even just one person. The cat on his shoulders rubbed its head against his jaw and the wemic reached up to pet him, something brightening that sad smile for a moment before it fell gracefully away and his neutral expression returned. He reached up, brushed a bang out of his face with a huff and then took a few steps closer to the boy, so that they could converse without needing to shout over the laughter of normal people across the lake. He lowered his back end into a sitting position, tail curling around his paws.

“You should invest in a cat.” He started, still smiling, quietly amused. He reached up and scratched the brown tabby under his chin. The cat melted into his touch. “Especially the strays, they’re real good at keeping away pests. No one can catch a rat faster than Bucky here. He is a mouse-fighting machine.”

The cat seemed to know that he was being talked about, and proudly so. He waggled his head a bit and closed his eyes, almost basking in the praise and the wemic huffed, amused. He seemed to pause for a moment, as though lost in a thought about the cat, but Bucky turned and looked at his master for a moment before rubbing his head on the wemic’s cheek once again. All at once they both seemed to fall back down to earth. He nodded, lowering himself into a laying position next to the boy, close enough to converse but just slightly out of arm’s length, a little caution in his movements. He didn’t trust the boy, not yet, though he also wasn’t sure what a street urchin his age could even do to a full grown wemic. Still, it was a habit, everyone hated him, he was just waiting for the boy to realize that he was water being thrown on a grease fire.

The wemic blinked, a little mystified that the boy wanted to know his name, and usually he was a little reserved about giving it out to strangers, it was kind of all that he had left of his past life. Though he didn’t want to remember the actions, woke up to nightmares about most of it, the name was just soothing, remembered being called it for the first time by a kind old woman.

“Ein.” He eventually said, his voice a little flat. But he backed it up with a short little half smile, his fangs prominent in the glowing light of the sun. “Ein, the white wemic. The Devil’s Angel, the Monster of Marguay Pass, the White Plague, the coming of the end times...”

He listed a few more of his unflattering nicknames, shaking his head.

“I’ve been putrid filth my whole life, a freak of nature…”

[Magnus Einson]

Magnus shook his head at the notion of a cat.

That wasn’t really possible for him since he could barely afford to feed himself. A car was far too hard or even a dog for that matter... Those were something he’d only ever think about if he found a home for himself. “I wish I could afford that. I barely make much during my odd jobs. I can’t afford to feed one,” he explained. “I won’t be here long anyway I figure. I don’t stay in one place long because I don’t... Well last I heard my “father” was still hunting for me.”

He shuddered at the thought. The thought of being confined and beaten again, If the man even let him live.

Of course he got a little nervous as the lion laid near him. Was he going to try and hurt him was his first thought. But he relaxed upon realizing he didn’t mean him any harm. A Wemic? Now he knew of that, he had heard of them from travelers.

“Oh wow! You’re a Wemic? That’s sooooo cool! You’re like a lion guy right?” He added rather excitedly, showing how young he was more. “I never knew you guys could be white though. You must be like, rare, or something.”

He then added. “Dirt? You don’t look like that to me,” he then added. “If anything I’m the trash of the two of us. Look at me, I probably got a dozen fleas on me an am covered in dirt.” He explained. “Don’t let someone tell you you’re dirt unless you’re really at the bottom. Like us gutter urchins... You may have had a bad life or whatever... But I can tell you’ve turned it around.”

His own thoughts on himself were obviously not too high. “Me? My last “job” was dressing some noble. Like literally he wouldn’t even dress himself,” he then added. “And I got whipped anytime I didn’t dress him just the way he wanted. Guy was a creep... Only paid me two pierces of silver a week.” he then added. “And that’s not even the worst job I’ve been given. Last year I allowed a vampire to feed from me once a week. It wasn’t so bad though - he put me in a trance when he did it so I never even knew it was happening. He wanted to turn me but I wouldn’t let him and he kicked me out. Apparently he wanted a kid but there was no way I’d ever want to be a vampire.”

[Ein]

The wemic looked upon the boy sympathetically as they spoke, the idea of being unable to afford a cat was a real thing that he remembered about his past, and it was a rough memory. When you live on the streets, you have no name, no identity, just pain, and it wasn’t until he met Bucky, until the stray kitten curled up in the small of his back that one random rainy day, that he had any idea what it felt like to be… not quite happy but… something. Something wholesome, something valuable. It was a warm fire on a cold day, the love of a cat, or at least that’s what it felt like to him. Bucky followed him around, rubbed on his legs and made biscuits in his fur. He didn’t care that the wemic was white, that he was banished by both humans and his own kind, by his own parents even. Bucky didn’t care, and though it was still hard for Ein to think about his past and his future, Bucky just made the lonesome nights a little brighter, a little warmer.

But he nodded, understanding. “That’s fair. This big ol’ boy can eat like a horse, just inhales food. It can be a little pricey to make sure he and all of his brothers and sisters have full tummies.”

He scratched the maine coon under his chin again, using the side of one of his black claws to really get at the cat’s favorite scratching spot, and, true to his nature, the tabby melted into the touch, purring loudly. But, then Ein stopped and turned back toward the boy, which gave Bucky his chance for freedom. The big tabby cat stood on his owner’s back, easing himself down to the back of the lower torso where he proceeded to paw at the lion man’s thick Barbary mane. If he was using his claws, the wemic didn’t seem to notice.

He smiled, somewhat sadly. “Yeah you could say that I’m… special, I guess. But not in a good way. White wemics are bad omens, so bad that my mother didn’t even name me, she just… left me in the snow to die while the clan moved on.”

He paused, a little bemused by the boy’s opinion that a street urchin could have less value than a white wemic. It was a nice thought and he appreciated it on some level, but it just wasn’t the case. Street urchins were normal people, all they had to do was come into some money and they’d graduate to being a normal person. But even if Ein made a million gold, had the biggest manor, had a clan of his own, no matter what he did or who he knew, he would always be this blemish on society.

“You are only trash out of circumstance.” The wemic sighed, disagreeing that the boy was somehow worse, like it was some sick competition of whose life was more pitiful. “If you got a job or a lord took you in, you’d no longer be a street urchin, you’d be a functioning member of society, maybe get yourself a girl and a plot of land, you’d graduate from being a little boy on the streets. But I will never… not be this hideous… thing.”

He looked down at his clawed hands, turning them over, working them into a fist before relaxing again, staring with a hard brow, as though they were somehow the cause of all of this. But after a moment, he shook his head, turning his gaze upward thoughtfully, watching some birds glide across the clearing.

“Ah well. It can’t be helped.” He said, the sadness evident in his voice. “The gods have a plan for us, even for little people like you and me. Surely, we are worth something, to them if no one else.”

[Magnus Einson]

Even though Magnus didn’t want to say it he knew how that felt too

No one, even the innkeeper knew that he knew the truth about his parents. But after a moment, he brushed his hair aside to reveal a long birthmark. It ran down one side of his face nearly down the cheek. “My master used to tell me my parents died and he just got me. I know that isn’t true, when I was a kid I found the bill of sale,” he explained. To some it was only a minor blemish but for some... “I know why they did it before they... Died. I don’t know who they were but I’m sure they were rich. And powerful. And no one likes a baby with this.”

It was very blunt and he let his hair fall back along to his side of the face.

There was then some honesty to him. “I tried to get someone to take me in in the beginning. But anyone with sense favors beauty and handsomeness over this...” he explained rather honestly. “If you want me to be honest - the only way I get anywhere is in some freak show.” He explained as he stood to his feet a bit, hanging his shirt on a bush to dry. “We’re probably in the same boat. You and me. So if you ever want someone to talk to... Well you just gotta hunt me down I guess.”

He sighed quietly, before returning to sit next to him. “I don’t know I stopped believing in the Gods. What kind of gods let me get born with this? Or gave me to such a creep?” He explained. “I don’t know... Maybe I’m just looking at it the wrong way since obviously you’ve done better for yourself. And we’re both so-called “bad omens”.” He then added. “But I’ll start believing in the gods when they give me a break.”

He then added. “Someday though I’ll prove them all wrong, maybe... if I can find someone to teach me the ways of an adventurer,” he then added. “The moment I’m 18 and my own man I intend to begin questing. Help people who can’t help themselves. Do what no one will probably ever do for me.”

[Ein]

“Oh the Gods are real, believe you me.” The wemic said firmly, remembering his time in the temple of the goddess of Earth, where she had approached him, apologized to him, had stood and looked upon him with the kindest most gentle eye he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. He closed his eyes, nodding, as he remembered the way that she had smiled at him, the way that she had welcomed him. She was real, the real mother of them all and her actions had been proof enough.

“Without them, there’d be no life, no fire to warm you up at night, no rain to cool you down in the summer. They are very real and though we as mortals may never understand what they are doing, it is true, they have plans for us all. Even you boy.”

He paused, shifting his weight onto one side and crossing his forepaws in front of him. Bucky had to correct himself during the movement but he seemed otherwise unphased, curling up against his master’s lower shoulder blade, paws deep in his thick white mane. The wemic took a moment to reach down and brush some sand off of his paw, his upper torso bending down while the lower torso remained pretty much stationary. Like most taurs, he was very flexible. He distracted himself by lifting his paw and examining it, picking vegetation out from between his well furred toes.

“I had the same question, asked the Goddess of Earth even, just why? Why me? Why like…” He gestured to his white fur. “Why like this? Why did I deserve this? But she explained that the Gods’ only have so much they can do for us, most of life is based on the free will of other men. They choose to judge us for what we look like, the Gods’ have almost nothing to do with that, they cannot control what men do.”

He let his paw drop to the sand sort of sadly, but looked over at the boy with a gentleness to his face. He did not smile but his tone was uplifting.

“The Gods’ do have a plan for us Magnus. They gave you that mark for a reason, they touched you, that means you’re destined for great things. You will prove men wrong, because the Gods’ are on your side.”

[Magnus Einson]

Plans for him?

What plans could they have for him? A kid who had basically been born into nothing. That was partly why he had decided to be an adventurer to make his own destiny. He didn’t complain though, nor did he argue, he simply listened to what the Wemic had to say.

It was oddly... Moving. The way that he described the gods.

At the mention of them touching him he touched that part of his face a little. Unsure. Was that what this was believed to be? The mark of someone touched by the gods? He didn’t know if that was true, or if he could really prove men wrong but still...

“If there are gods, it would be nice to know that I’ve been “touched” by them or have some grand destiny,” he admitted with a soft chuckle. “Even if I end up on my own at least maybe I can find myself as the adventurer and champion I want to be... One day. So long as my former “father” does not come for me.”

[Ein]

The wemic smiled knowingly, letting his eyes drift from the boy to some unimportant point beyond the other edge of the lake. He had never been an advocate for the Gods before, it felt strange to be that person, one of the faithful. As a child, he ached and he bled and he cried and cried and cried and wondered why no one came for him, why no one stopped walking, stooped down, and helped him up. It always seemed like when he was down, when he was at his worst, there was no one by his side. But then he met the Goddess of Earth, Xantara, and she was so kind and so sympathetic, he learned that the Gods had less reach than the sacred texts gave them credit for. They could not touch everyone, could not heal everyone, could not light every path or inspire every smile, their powers were great but man’s real power came from his will and his ability to make his own decisions so the Gods kept their hands away from that kind of thing, and from that there was suffering. The Gods weren’t allowing it so much as they could not stop it, a man’s will could change everything, could even undo the Gods’ powerful work and intentions. So Ein learned to redirect his hate, his contempt, his longing, to men, not to the Gods, it was not their fault.

He crossed his arms and sighed through his nose, as this thought process brought back terrible memories of being thrown down, kicked and stomped, smeared with mud and dirt to make him more acceptable, the kids would say. He remembered broken bones that no one would heal, he remembered skinned knees that no one would clean for him, he remembered nightmares that would wake him but he had no one to talk about it with, no one to tuck him back into bed and tell him it was alright. But he had always blamed the Gods, never the men. He thought the Gods could do anything, that’s what everybody said and claimed, that the Gods were all reaching and all knowing but they just weren’t. You had to make a life for yourself by yourself, the Gods might light the way, they might push you in the right direction, but they could not clear the path, you had to fight for yourself, for your own right to live.

And it was hard sometimes, boy did he know that it was hard. But he had faith now that he was a little bit older, a little bit wiser. Gods or no Gods, it would be alright, so long as he willed it so, so long as he was strong, so long as he had will to do things, he would get them done.

“Well it’s important to keep that mindset, to keep that idea close to your heart.” Ein said, speaking softly but his eyes remained unfocused. “Will power is what makes creatures like us- the creatures considered ‘men’- different from most animals. When we decide that we want something, we go after it and we let nothing get in our way. So be strong, boy, hold that desire, that longing for adventure, hold it close and it will guide you down the path that the Gods have set up for you.”

He turned and gave the boy a long stern look.

“I don’t need to tell you to be strong.” He said with a wave of one of his clawed hands. “You’re clever enough, you’ll get there. And the Gods will help as they can.”