Chapter 6 A Journey Home or a Journey Away

Chapter 6 A Journey Home or a Journey Away

A Chapter by A Drawer of Paper Roses
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TYPOS D:! Grant reflects on how he met the infamous Salvatore and Loretta leaves to return to her true home.

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Loretta, saw the clock. “Well it’s already six.” She rose from her table “Time to head home.”

“Already?”

“Come on Retta, you just got here a few minutes ago!”

“You never change do you?”

She laughed at their string of replies “Alright I’ll guess I’ll stay a bit longer.”

“I’ll make some more tea.” Kane left to the kitchen, pushing his long red bangs out of his eyes.

Loretta turned to Raoul. There it was again. The fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach, yet a rising anger in her heart. Only Raoul could do this to her “I’ve heard you’re getting married to Hannah.”

He spat out his drink “Who told you that!”

Loretta pointed at Henry, who was soaked in hot tea. “I…I didn’t say that.” He sputtered, wiping the steaming drink off his face,

“Not Hannah cutie?” Loretta raised her cocked her eyebrow

Hannah, the girl Raoul dumped her for.

“No, we broke up years ago.”

“Then who are you marrying?”

“Another girl, I met her through Opal; you know Opal right?”

“The dumb, busty girl right?”

“As if you she be saying other people are busty.” Raoul scoffed looking at her chest.

Loretta instantly threw her fork, which missed his throat but got caught in his platinum hair. That was his cue to leave before she lynched him.

“I guess I’ll continue for him.” Henry sighed, resting his head on hand “Yeah, that one busty girl. Raoul there fell for her older sister Talia.”

“How does she look like?” If Loretta knew Raoul, he liked them fully loaded

“Actually, she’s the opposite of Opal. She has pixie short raven hair, brown eyes, tan, muscular and flat chested. And you’ve seen Opal right? Long brown hair, grey eyes, fair skin and curvy.”

“Is she adopted?”

“Nope. Same mom, same dad.”

“What does she act like?”

“Well, again, completely opposite. She’s independent, straight forward, and really tough. You know she was able to beat Raoul in an arm wrestling match?! And even chew him out for cheating in poker too!”

“What’s her name!” she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. First off, Opal has a sister! Secondly, her sister is the exact opposite of her, inside and out. Thirdly, Raoul is head-over-heels over a non curvy chick. Most of all, she’s able to kick his a*s! “I got to meet her, it’s a miracle!”

“Oh, hardy, har, har!” Raoul came back, brushing his long hair.

“Talia even digs his hair.” Kane said in his soft voice. “I thought she would’ve convinced him to cut it by now.”

“Why do you think he likes his hair long?”

“I dunno, maybe the same reason why he has so many tattoos?”

Loretta, Kane and Henry all added their two cents to Raoul, who was standing right there. Getting even more frustrated after each remark

“I’m right here ya know!”

“Yeah, we know.” They all replied in unison.

The clock reached 6:45 P.M. “Well time for me to leave.”

“Be safe.”

“See ya later, Retta!”

“Dumb woman.”

She gave one last smile to her friends, then left.

 

The next morning, to her surprise the king was nice to her; so were Charlotte and Josephine. Weird… she thought, but she wasn’t surprised they let her go on vacation. But being nice…Diane must’ve gone overboard. Josephine kept her distance more than usual, didn’t even dare to glance at her. Only Charlotte has the negative affect; this morning when Loretta had came she screamed demon spawn and locked her bedroom door. As if that’s not creepy at all. Loretta sighed in relief, as she packed her belonging.

One long coat, a white double button up. Five pants, slim, boot cut, denim skinny jeans and black ones. Two long skirts, one mini skirt. Three shorts, denim, black and white. Two T-shirts. Seven blouses. Five sweaters. Three short dresses. And finally, two jackets. Loretta stuffed them all into her luggage; she made sure to have room for extra stuff she might bring back. She gave it to Diane and Blake to take with them before they left. Now all that’s left is for her to wear her travel gear.

Upstairs, she opened up the chest in the back corner. And there it was. She wore it when she came here and whenever she went on a long journey. It always brought luck in tough situations; carefully, she spread it on her bed. It was a long, silk Chinese robe, modified for traveling, a gift from her parents. It was a scarlet red, a royal color, one that true warriors bore back at Riqus. There was a small white belt to secure it, it was lined in a pure white matter, and remained like that. She was proud she never got the white stained. Slipping it on, she realized why it had a hidden slit it the legs. The robe slimmed down to her feet, which made it seem like it would slow her. In reality, she could move with her free will. It hugged the curves of her body, smooth silk rubbing against her skin. Long baggy sleeves to store items in.

Back to the chest, she pulled out an intricate jewelry box; it was actually too big to be a jewelry box. She put the box on her lap and slowly opened it. The sheen of black metal reflected in the moonlight. One by one, she unclothed the kunai, made in the finest black metal and encrusted with obsidian. Dark so that in the black of night, the enemy wouldn’t be able to see it coming. Metal of new technology, light weight and unbreakable; hardly did it ever go dull. Obsidian on the handle, the old mineral fused wit the new metals, smoothed so that her grip would be comfortable. A kunai because her god father said it had the best precision when it sliced through the air when he gave this to her.

She tucked the many daggers in the compartment inside her sleeves. She slipped out light weight white boots. In her hand were her hair pins. She took the front sides of her hair, the shorter parts, and brought them up, so that they made a loop. Tightly, she secured her hair with the pins. With once glance to the mirror, Diane was right. There was her mother's frame that she inherited. She smiled at the thought Mom, always wore beautiful Japanese kimonos. And here she was, in a Chinese robe, looking close to that. She chuckled as she tugged on her raven hair; she was the only one in her family with it. Her grandmother’s hair. Seth had their mother’s. Leroy had their father’s dark blonde hair. And Stella had their grandpa’s golden mane.

The cold winter breeze stirred up the leaves in front of her. A sly smile tugged on her lips. Her eyes narrowed in a playful way. Her instincts were telling her to run. And she did. Loretta shot through the forests faster than sound. Leaving the world she’s come to known behind. And entering one may as well not exist.

 

The bar was loud.

Annoying

Abhorrent

Insanely

Immensely

 Extremely

 Deathly

Loud!

Grant clutched his pounding head. As he took another swig. It was peaceful before at this bar, but then some group of idiots walked in, then BAM! Presto, we have a major migraine here. He was about to keel over and dies of it any minute it now. Any minute. Just waiting here in agony until he dies. Okay, we’re waiting and waiting and…

Oh hell this ain’t gonna work! Grant slammed the glass hard against the counter, breaking it. “Hey, one more shot!” he screamed over the ruckus.

It was time to handle this himself. Grant scooted off his chair, to find himself with a wicked head rush. He fell face flat on the counter, trying to see straight. Luckily, a friend entered.

Grant knew it was by the sound of his footsteps. Cold, heavy boots, silently creaking down the wooden planks. They way he pushed opened the doors, a fast, loud swing, but yet unnoticed. Grant had been trained to notice his signs; that what friends are supposed to do. To make sure, he still clung onto the counter waiting for the sure sign.

Sure enough, there was a commotion, a scream. Weakly, he raised his head and there he was. His friend’s sword was unsheathed, pointing at the neck of some person. The victim’s chest was sliced, not enough for medical assistance though. He didn’t even strike him yet. He simply unsheathed his weapon and pointed to the man. The piano stopped, people silenced the music, not a noise to be heard. The sound of a breath was the loudest noise. The blood dripped onto the flooring like crashing raindrops.

There was a deep scowl on his face “What the hell are you doing in my territory?” he snarled, still pointing at the man. With his free hand, he shifted it around the inside of his jacket. Snow flakes still frozen and embedded on its surface. Removing his hand, he revealed a poster.

The victim gasped, pointing a shaking hand at the picture “Y-you’re�"!”

He held the wanted poster to his face“�"Demon Hunter, Salvatore.” He smirked; fierce green eyes piercing that could pierce through anyone. He lowered his sword from pointing to the man’s face, to the ground. Instantly, blood appeared as if he actually touched him with the sword. Foreigners ran out screaming, woman dashing out, and men gathering their belonging and fleeing.

His migraine eased. Grant causally sat back up and gave a cocky smile at his friend “Long time no see, twerp.”

“I missed you too pops.” He returned the joke

They met half way and shook each other’s hand. It’s been awhile since Grant’s seen the younger boy; but he finally twenty-one. His still wore his leather gloves. It was obviously he grew another inch, last time he was six feet tall. Salvatore’s muscles showed though his white T-shirt, covered underneath his jacket and jeans. It was obvious, his last job was in a colder climate; crystals stuck in his light brown hair. Which he noticed was different. “What happened to your hair? Ain’t it usually short?”

They settled down in the seats next to each other. The bartender already fetching their drinks.

“Yeah, I didn’t cut it. Usually I do after each mission, but this one was busy.” He rested his face in his fair skinned hand. “I’m going to soon though.”

“Honestly, it makes you look like softy.”

Salvatore chuckled “I only kept it that way for a certain person, but it’s no longer needed.”

“Time for change, huh?”

“Yep.” He tossed a pocketful full of money at the bartender to pay for the rest of the drinks they were about to consume.

As they caught up with each other’s lives, Grant reflected on how he met the fearsome child.

Summer nights are warm. But tonight is cold. His bones were frozen to its core as he walked with little on. Yoga pants, a pair of shoes and a sword tied around his hips. He’s been striking everyone in his way. He’s been losing his sanity. H’s afraid to loose to loose again. Loose, because it’ll put him down another level. Loose to his ‘perfect’ younger brother. The not illegitimate child. The favored one. The one who stole everything from him. Who gave him the cross across his stomach, marking his failure.

Grant had just finished off the last member of a group; Showing no mercy. Like the demon that coursed through his blood. That’s when Salvatore entered.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen a person take down ten people, singled handedly without a gun.” The moon barley glinted off his dark brown leather, green eyes filled with blood lust. He leaned against he tree arms crossed “No bad, if I do say so myself.”

“What do you want?” there was no emotion except for hatred din his voice.

“Don’t mind me; I’m just an innocent bystander, who got caught up in this fight scene while passing by.” He slowly approached Grant.

Grant whipped his sword’s tip to Salvatore’s throat, barely touching; enough to draw a small drop of blood. “F**k off.”

A mocking smile appeared dawned on his face “Why?”

Grant harshly, snapped the sword up “WHAT’S WITH THAT LOOK!?” he saw his brother in that face

Salvatore dodged it with ease; flipping backwards in one elegant motion “What’s wrong did I strike a nerve?” he laughed

“Are you asking for a fight?” he demanded

“I’m not asking.” He stopped mid-sentence, then smiled I’m provoking.”

“You’re kinda cocky for a kid.”

He frowned “I’m not a kid.”

“Whatever.” Even thought he was freezing his a*s off, his body inched with anticipation of a good fight “I you wanna fight, I’ll give you a fight. Just don’t regret your death in the end.”

“I doubt you’ll be able to keep up.”

“Is that a bet?”

“Loser pays for the winner’s drink at the local bar.”

“It’s on.”

And they drew their swords. Grant only now realized, as he drank his rum, that he was no match in the beginning.

He charged first, readying his sword. Salvatore stood his ground; when the blow came he lifted his sword which absorbed the impact. He gave a cocky look, then turned and shot his heel up. Grant narrowly, dodged the attack by side stepping. But he fell for the trap.

Salvatore’s sword came form the side. Grant blocked it. What he didn’t see was the foot that was brought down to his head. His body snapped down, his head throbbing. Salvatore then kneed him swiftly after. When Grant's body snapped up, he threw his free fist into his face. Grant fell to the earth. With one eye opened he saw the gleam of metal.

Grant rolled over to his side, avoiding the sword that thrust into the ground. He shot out is foot and spun on his hand. It caught Salvatore off guard. He caught the back of is knees and the man dropped on his head.

They both quickly recovered.

Salvatore smirked “Last strike?”

“Let’s finish this.”

The bolted off. Grant put everything he had into this one last strike. It was this or nothing. Face to face, they strike. Their backs faced each other, swords held out; waiting for the other to fall. A red line grew on Salvatore’s arm. He withdrew his sword and took the dark green banana around his neck to wrap it. The sound of metal filled the pause. Shattering, falling piece by piece onto the bloody earth. Blood pouring from his chest. Grant had lost.

He gave one last look over his shoulder, staring blankly at the winner No human could’ve moved as fast he did! Not even if they had demon blood like me! He witnessed the terrifying speed, the force of the effortless attacks that felt like they were on full blast. “Who are you? What are you?”

Salvatore smiled. He took three steps closer, his black blade pressing against Grant’s neck “And if I tell you my secret, do you swear to keep it? To bet your life on it?”

“Ain’t it proper to know how exactly you were killed?” he joked on his dying breathe, his own blood streaming down his arms as he bent down on all four.

“If you really want to know” he used the side of his sword to tilt Grant’s weak head to look at him “Here, they call me Salvatore. And I’m a special race, as great as the dragons themselves. I am a Zeveror.” And he swore he saw to long fangs drip from his mouth like water, white as the clouds, extending beyond his chin; sharp enough to slice a diamond.

He gave a weak laugh “Never heard of them.” Then he collapsed

Grant woke up in a bar Oh kaaay? This isn’t weird. Is this heaven or hell?

“Good morning pops.” Grant was face to face with the Salvatore.

He searched his exposed torso. Not even a scar from the short, but fierce battle Oh, you’re that twerp from the other day. One question: How the hell am I alive?” he voice was scratchy and dry

“That’s another secret.” He held a finger to his mouth “Anyway, I’m paid for your medical bills and our drinks.” He passed a cup to Grant “Drink up. And one more thing. You’re going to have to repay for this later.”

Grant chugged down his drink, quenching his dry throat. “How?”

“We’ll see.”

Grant drained his cup “How’s business?”

He sipped his wine glass “Not so much.” Then wiped the residue off his mouth

“Why?”

“Well, there are some new guys in the area, taking up my business.”

“I thought you were the best of the best?” he punched his shoulder

“Yeah, yeah. But I like taking my sweet time. Not to mention I scare the crap out of my clients. So I was thinking about joining the Royal Militia”

He spat his drink “What?!”

“You heard me.”

“Yeah, but how?!

“I got connections. Anyways, I’ll probably knock their socks off because I’m so awesome like that.”

Grant laughed “You never change do you? You’re still as cocky as ever twerp.”

“I guess not.” He finished his glass “How about you?”

“Finally got a job.”

He raised his eyebrow “How? Only some idiot would give their life to a stranger.”

“That’s half true. I mean, the woman can take care of her a*s, somewhat; but she accepted it simply because she said she was bored.”

“Oh, it’s a girl.” He teased “Are you sure you didn’t seduce her into doing it?”

“Hell no! Not with that woman; I’d rather eat s**t!”

Salvatore rummaged through his jacket and pulled out a packet of smelly, green liquid “Be my guest.”

They shared a good laugh. Friends reunited. And when it was time. They would leave, to do their jobs, finish some business. Then once again to come here on a monthly basis.

“Dude, what’s with the smoke?”

A cloud of mist circled Grant an eerie note lingering through the air

“That woman’s finally using it, huh?” He grunted “I’ll catch ya again, sometime Salvatore.”

“Okay, have fun.” He stuck his tongue out.

And Grant was consumed by the glowing fog.



© 2012 A Drawer of Paper Roses


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A Drawer of Paper Roses
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Added on March 6, 2012
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A Drawer of Paper Roses
A Drawer of Paper Roses

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I have a secret drawer full of paper roses You might think they aren't as romantic as real ones But you're only judging the appearance What if he/she can't get you as rose? He's too poor to buy on.. more..

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