Did anoyone say something so incrediably stupid like there isn't any paradise?
My word count is ony at 4,675 (I slacked off a bit last night, but since it's the weekend, I guess I can just pull out twenty pages or so to make up for it ^ ^;;)
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Skin Deep Scars
Jenn Young
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</p>
Glossary
</p>
Egyptian Names
Ahmose - The Moon is born ;M Netikerty- She is Excellent ;F Hekanakhte- Ebony ;M Tepemkau- Best of Souls ;M Pasebakhaenniut- The Star That Appears in the City ;F Ankhesenamun- She Lives in Anum ;F Ako- weary, tired ;M Nife-an-Ankh- The Breath of the World ;M Nafretiti- I Appear With Beauty ;F Meskenit- A Goddess at Birth ;F DjaDja Betuke- A Taunt, “Watermelon Head” Emuishere- “Little Cat”, affectionate Nickname Aisha- Peace and Trust
</p>
Other
Omoidasu- Memories, Japanese
-sama, -kun, -chan, -jou, -san, ect- Japanese suffixes, respectful
Tristezza- Sadness, Italian
</p>
Misc Notes
The world of 'Ryuuguu' (of which this is a side story of) is a twisted sort of earth. The places and cultures you will see here are based on Earth cultures at the core, but with a fantasy twist. Yes, Gladi'ole is part of Japan, and At'Mar is a part of Mesopotamia that eventually becomes the Middle East. Egypt is Egypt, but things are very different (the worship of Gryphons, for one, is not present in Egyptian history). You'll catch on eventually. ^_^
</p>
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WARNING: This story contains violence, sexual themes, occasional homosexuality, crossdressing, prostitution, depression and cheesy flashback mode. You have been warned.
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(For the continued adventures of Omoidasu, and an explaination of what, exactly, the hell is going on in the first few paragraphs, visit: http://www27.brinkster.com/ryuuguu)
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</p>
1325 AD, Ce’mont Italy, just outside of Ryuuguu
</p>
* * *
</p>
Omoidasu Tristezza rapped his long, graceful fingers against the dirty tabletop, staring disenchantedly out the window. It was a long, gray day- the kind where the clouds roll in but the rain refuses to fall. “That sister of yours is certainly taking her time…” he sighed, throwing a gentle glance across the table at his companion. Julidan jumped slightly, startled into a attentive pose and nearly spilling his drink.
</p>
“Uh, yeah.” He nodded blearily and collected himself as Omoidasu attempted to hide his grin. The young half-dragon had a tendancy to get lost in his thoughts. It was a learned trait, but not necessarily a bad one, “Rhapsody had some… business to attend to.” His voice was strained.
</p>
“Business?” Omoidasu tore his attention away from the blank window and drew a finger along the rim of his cup, “I suppose it would be rather out of line for me to inquire as to..."
</p>
"Mirai." Julidan sai curtly, obviously not wishing to breach the subject any further. Omoidasu nodded somberly and turned his attention back to the window. One word answers sometimes were all that were needed.
</p>
"Ahh, yes. Losing a parent. Hard to imagine any loss more tragic at such an age."
</p>
"You sound almost like you're speaking from experience."
</p>
Omoidasu blinked and looked at Julidan again. The redhead had a curious expression on his face- curious, but oblivious to the levity of the subject he had just pressed upon, "Well, I..." Omoidasu swallowed and considered carefully how to answer the question. Julidan was not often perceptive, but he was anything but dull.
</p>
"Come to think of it, what do we really know about you, Omoidasu?" Julidan leaned forwards slightly on his elbows, furrowing his brow, "You've been here three winters, yet you've hardly told anyone of your past. Not even Rhapsody or Elise-san."
</p>
Omoidasu shrugged uncomfortably, "Yes, well..." it was his policy not to talk about his past. Foolish and thoughtless as it was, "It's a long story, Julidan. Not one meant to fill anxious minutes in a run down bar." he attempted a charming grin but it was lost on the dragon halfling, who just sighed and relaxed into his chair, defeated.
</p>
"Which means you'll never tell, am I right?" Omoidasu was surprised, wry was not Julidan's specialty though it surfaced on the odd occasion, a strange side effect from his sensai's dry sense of humour.
</p>
So he didn't answer, just stared. The sky was so very gray, like his mother's eyes. Or maybe her eyes had been blue, but he never could remember. It had been so long ago. "Well," he breathed finally, not sure exactly how loud he was speaking, "Do not mistake my motives. I have my reasons."
</p>
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</p>
Chapter I; Saffron
2600 BC, Egypt
</p>
There was a rumour, and a very popular one it was. Whispered on the lips of everyone from the lowliest merchant to the highest of the noble houses. Netikerty, first daughter of the Pharoh's favorite wife, had given birth. Oh, but she had not just given birth to any mere mortal- from her body had come a winged child. An angel and messanger from the great Gryphon God Nife-an-Ankh. The royal family was blessed, and Neitkerty was blessed and her demi-God son would eventually ascend to the throne and unite Egypt in a time of need.
</p>
Ahmose, son of Tepemkau of the Pasebakhaenniut clan heard none of these rumous. Named for the way the moon's cycle fell on his birth, none of the prophetic words surrounding the boy's birth reached him in his isolated home far beneath the searing desert sands.
</p>
"DjaDja Betuke!"
</p>
In fact, the only words that currently reached him were that of his sister's immature taunting. She nimbly dodged a heavy textbook aimed directly between her eyes and flicked her tail playfully.
</p>
"Meskenit, whatever qualms you?" Ahmose asked through gritted teeth, curling his ruined papyrus parchment between his fingers. The young female gryphon's tail ceased it's twitching and dropped in dissaproval. She scowled at her brother and began to pace on all four paws.
</p>
"You told father."
</p>
Ahmose sighed, "Could you be a little more specific. I tell father many things."
</p>
"That I transformed and journeyed into Cairo."
</p>
"Yes. And?"
</p>
"That I have a human lover."
</p>
"And what did he say?"
</p>
Meskenit's pout deepened, "That I am too young for such things and, that for my own safety, I should be wary about venturing forth into the capital."
</p>
"Which is exactly what I told you before you skipped off to your little tryst. How about having a little trust in your older brother from now on?"
</p>
Meskenit's name meant 'one who is born a Goddess' and as the only daughter in a noble family of sons, she did her best to live up to the glorified name. She continued pacing, as if grasping at words in her mind, looking for a suitable reply.
</p>
"DjaDja Betuke..." she repeated, under her breath and Ahmose nearly laughed.
</p>
"No matter how many times you say it, my head will not turn into a watermelon."
</p>
Meskenit blinked and snapped her beak open and shut a few times before crying: "At least I do not have pale human limbs!" and fleeing from the study, half galloping, half in flight. Ahmose shook his head and retrieved his textbook, dusting off the cover and briefly flipping through it to check for damage. It was a book of At'Mar tales- a tome that Ahmose had copied over himself. Nights of blurry vision, cramped fingers and bleary headaches though he loved every moment of it.
</p>
'One of these days, I will write a book.' he affirmed silently, sitting at his desk and attempting to salvage his crumpled document. It was an empty promise- after all, every young intellectual hopes to write a novel, or at very least a documentation of history, but Ahmose still felt all the more involved in his intellectualism having proposed it, if only to himself.
</p>
He dipped his quill into the sticky, black ink and put pen to paper, only to realize he had forgotten what he was writing about. He quickly reread his previous notes, only to find that they made little sense and held no consistancy. He mentally berated himself, reminded of the trouble his father went through to procure papyrus, quills and ink for his strange son. Ahmose was the only memeber of the family who could write- being, also, the only memeber of the family posessing those wonderful, dexteric human hands. Gryphon's generally kept an intensely inticrite oral history, though there had been tell of a few bold scribes who had spent many long years developing a method of manipulating quill in their clawed hands.
</p>
But as far as Ahmose knew, he was the only Gryphon with 'pale human limbs'. When he was young, he never questioned his difference, merely accepted it. It didn't make him 'special' or 'inferior', it just was that way. The older he grew, however, the more he began to wonder. Natural, scholarary curiositry. Scientific inquiry. He was indeed an oddity, but no one had ever thought enough to suppose he would want to know why.
</p>
He had theories, of course. Some cynical (perhaps he had been a sort of low grade genetic experiment?) and some imporbable (the result of a coupling order by the Gods). In the end, he often wondered what the point of him being born was. His older brother, first born Hebeny was primed to take over control of the clan once Father retired the position. Ahmose wasn't even second born. In fact, he was the second youngest, and the youngest male. As far as he knew, he didn't hold any significance in the human world either. He'd only been to Cairo four times in his three decades of life and didn't even know his mother's name.
</p>
The word 'Mistake' floated to the surface whenever he followed these trails of thought. He wrote the word down, his handwriting fragmented on the cracked parchment. He stared at it for a long moment, then added: an unplanned event, unexpected turn of events, unpredicted, negative variable. He grimanced, 'That's a lot of 'un's. ' he mused, 'But at least I'm an interesting mistake.'
</p>
"Ahmose!" Ahmose's head snapped up to see the large, dark image of Hekanakhte-Tepemkau-Ankh looming in his doorway, highly unimpressed expression worn on his sharp, birdlike face, "What in Ra's holy name did you say to Meskenit!?" he demanded. Ahmose dropped his quill and leapt to his feet.
</p>
"Did Meskenit say something?"
</p>
Hekanakhte scoffed. It was a deep, threatening growl in his throat. Almost everything Hekanakhte did was threatening, though Ahmose knew there were few kinder souls in the clan, "Say? Since when does Meskenit express herself in a way so rational as words. She stormed out of the den in a huff, disturbed the hatchlings and took flight towards Cairo!"
</p>
Ahmose nodded, sunk back into his chair, processed the words and then smacked himself on the forehead, "Brother, please. You jest. Tell me that you jest."
</p>
Hekanakhte's shoulders twitched, "You know something, Ahmose. You always know something when it comes to our dearest sister. You two were always so close growing up."
</p>
Ahmose raised his eyebrows. He had never considered himself and Meskenit close, but he supposed that she probably did. They were closest in age, afterall, though she was more apt to get in trouble than sober, studious Ahmose.
</p>
"You didn't know, then?"
</p>
"Know what?" Hekanakhte replied tiredly, patience wearing thin.
</p>
"About her human lover!"
</p>
Hekanakhte inhaled sharply, large golden eyes blinking open and closed very slowly, "Ahmose, please repeat yourself."
</p>
"Meskenit has not told you about her human lover?"
</p>
Hekanakhte shook his head slowly, "That... that female..."
</p>
"It's the age." Ahmose shrugged, like it was an excuse.
</p>
"Humans are messy business." The pitch in Hekanakhte's tone was shifting as his anger and worry grew. His tail began trashing wildling and his wings flexed, "Doesn't she know about our history with them? Hasn't she heard tales of how we were nearly warred to extention in battle with them? It's a delicate balance, we maintain with the Egyptians, where they worship us as dieties. If she is discovered..."
</p>
Ahmose caught on quickly, and watched his world reel around him as he began to comprehend the implications, "If she is discovered, the humans will understand that we are only flesh and blood like they!"
</p>
Hekanakhte nodded gravely, then stilled his tail in a sharp, jerky motion, "Well, perhaps I am exaggerating. Father barely remembers the human wars. No human alive will have a family member old enough to remember a family memeber who fought in those wars. The humans have fogotten how to kill us."
</p>
"We can die?" the question slipped off Ahmose's tongue so quickly that the words did not have a chance to run through his brain first. He wished he could take them back even before Hekanakhte looked at him like he was an idiot.
</p>
"Of course we can die." Hekanakhte said softly, "We are not invunerable to certain kinds of priestly magic." he stared at his younger brother for a long moment in eerie silence. Ahmose shifted in his seat uncomfortably, "Ahmose, do not forget- you are only half gryphon. Your human half can bleed. Your human half can die. You only inherited father's inefinite longevity, not his inherent invulnerability."
</p>
Ahmose bowed his head, his gaze flickering unconciously to the long, white scar on his left arm. Oh, he knew how well a human body could bleed. He certainly knew.
</p>
"What are we going to do if they remember?" he asked Hekanakhte softly.
</p>
"Right now that doesn't matter. What matters right now is finding Meskenit before she does something terribly foolish in typical Meskenit fashion."
</p>
Ahmose nodded, and followed his brother.
* * *
</p>
It was nearly nightfall when they reached the edge of the city. Hekanakhte transformed seamlessly, easing into his human form with stiff, practiced grace. Ahmose watched quietly and when he was finished asked:
</p>
"What am I supposed to do?"
</p>
Hekanakhte looked him up and down, twisting his human lips downwards in a perplexed frown, "You can't transform, can you?"
</p>
"That's a stupid question, Hekanakhte, when you know the answer." Ahmose flinched, expecting a repremend for his sharp tone, but Hekanakhte seemed to understand the tension the younger gryphon felt upon the edge of the capital.
</p>
"Flatten your ears against your head." he suggested, "And cover them with your hair. Your wings aren't very big, so wrap them around you like an expensive cloak. Perhaps they'll just mistake us for foreign nobles."
</p>
Ahmose smiled to himself and admired his brother's ingenuity, remembering that there were reasons other than age and strength that qualified him as next clan leader.
</p>
"Well, getting here was the easy part. How are we supposed to find her in this mess?" Hekanakhte glowered and lowered his gaze as they passed a merchant with an attractive female dancing provociatively around his products. Peasents milled about, some watching them with intrest through wide, malnourished eyes, most just going about with their lives.
</p>
"We'll have to be deeper into the city, for one thing. Meskenit would never take a poor man as a lover." Ahmose whispered. Hekanakhte nodded- she thought far too much of herself to play mistress to a beggar....
</p>
...a haggard man with unusually light skin trudged by, carrying a heavy load of fresh fruit towards the center of the city.
</p>
A beggar... or a slave. A thought hit Ahomse hard, "Meskenit's a romanitc."
</p>
"Foolish, foolish." Hekanakhte muttered.
</p>
"What if she's taken a slave man into her arms?" Hekanakhte looked at his younger brother in shock, eyes widening in realization. Ahmose continued, "That would be even better than some random noble brat. She'd see herself as some sort of savior or a tragic herione."
</p>
Hekanakhte stopped walking, glancing over his shoulder at the direction from whence they'd come. He chewed his lip nervously- a mannerism that replaced the gryphon counterpart of a clacking beak- and looked at his brother meaningfully.
</p>
"I shall go search for her back in the slave section. You continue onwards into the city."
</p>
Ahmose's eyes widened and his throat tightened, "Hekanakhte, I have not wish to venture further into Cairo on my own."
</p>
"The city only gets safer the further along the Nile you travel. Have no fear."
</p>
Ahmose twitched his ears out of habit, then remembered that he had to keep them hidden. Instead he scowled from beneath his long, black bangs, "If you find Meskenit quickly, come for me."
</p>
Hekanakhte smiled, and was on his way.
</p>
Ahmose had no explaination for why he felt so uncomfortable in human settlements. Afterall, his body was predominently human, though his mind worked like a gryphon's. The sunset faded into darkness, but still, people milled about looking no more interested in him than their evening shopping. Perhaps it was the disintrest that bothered him. Humans lived such short lives that there always seemed to be a sense of emergency about the most trivial of daily activities. They accomplished more in a day that Ahmose could ever hope to in one moon cycle. The world of humans was a messy and rushed mess of conflicting messages of hasty actions. Ahmose supposed he felt most ill at ease because it reminded him that somewhere, deep inside, he was just as mortal as any of these strange, scurrying creatures. Gryphons lived for an indefinite amounts of time. No gryphon ever died, though they sometimes dissapeared. But Ahmose was not a Gryphon- not completely. And already, he knew that he could bleed, was it possible...
</p>
"Excuse me, miss?" Ahmose stopped, tensed his shoulders and froze up. 'Are they talking to me? Am I being addressed as a female?' Slowly, very slowly, Ahmose turned towards the source of the voice. It was a scruffy, middle aged merchant selling crude vases and in pointed lack of a dancing lady friend. The man looked startled when he saw Ahmose's face, and the boy breathed a sigh of relief, 'At least he realizes his mistake.'
</p>
"You... you look very familiar." The man said carefully, "Miss, tell me, are you related to the Lady Netikerty?"
</p>
Ahmose meant to say: "I am male, sir merchant.", but instead, found himself asking: "Who is Lady Neitkerty?"
</p>
The merchant laughed heartily, "You must be from out of town, or one of those youth who thinks it amusing to take avantage of an old man's niavite. The Lady Neitkerty is the Pharoh's wife. I swear, you are the spitting image of her."
</p>
Ahmose was tiring of this exchange, though admitted to himself that it was an interesting study in human behaviour. This merchant was lacking a dancing girl, which seemed almost a necessity in most of the shops Ahmose had seen, and thinking that he'd found a beautiful woman was attempting to lure her in with shameless flattery.
</p>
"Yes, well, as similiar as we may look I have never heard of the woman. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
</p>
It happened so quickly. Such a tiny, insignificant action within the blink of an eye. A child darted out into the street and brushed against Ahmose's leg. Ahmose lost his balance, and in an instinctive attempt to regain his footing, let loose his wings. He steadied himself, but realizing his mistake, pulled his wings in close again. It was too late. For once, all action in the street ceased and Ahmose found himself standing in the middle of a crowd, wings listless around him and fifty pairs of eye trained upon his figure.
</p>
"Demon." Someone whispered.
</p>
"No!" another quickly contradicted, "He's a gryphon!"
</p>
Gasps all around, several awed repitions of the word and the crowd began to sway and rustle with excitment.
</p>
"He must be the Lady's son! The stolen, angel baby born when she was still young!"
</p>
"It's a sign! Didn't the Highpriest say that he woul unite Egypt in our time of need! The Pharoh will die soon, don't you see! He's heir to the throne!"
</p>
"You must come with us, boy!" An elderly man pushe forwards an gripped Ahmose's arm, "We will take you to the palace and you will seek audience with the Pharoh."
</p>
Ahmose was dizzy, and pulled away from the man's grip, wrapping the freed arm around his stomach. He just wanted to dissapear from the crowd and continue his search for Meskenit, "Why... why would I seek audience with the Pharoh?" he asked weakly.
</p>
"Why wouldn't you?" Someone new anwered.
</p>
"Of course, he is your father!" Another added.
</p>
Ahmose was so very confused, "But I have a father. How do you know me? I've never seen any of you before in my life!"
</p>
"He must have been brainwashed and hypnotized by the evil priests who stole him!"
</p>
"He wasn't stolen by evil priests! He was taken by the slaves!"
</p>
"That's not true! Some crazy traders from Babylon kidnapped him and abandoned him in the desert for thirty years!"
</p>
"Whatever it is, the only way we can deliver him to the Pharoh is unconcious."
</p>
Ahmose heard the words, certainly, before the blow to the back of the head came. Just because he heard them did not mean that he was prepared for the blow when it hit. He fell to his knees and watched his wings crumpled around him. After that, everything was black.
</p>
* * *
</p>
Ahmose could not fly. His wings were not enough to carry his human body at the strange angle it was built. He attempted this once- threw himself over a cliff face and worked his wings. In and out- up and down. He managed to hoist himself in the air- far enough away from the edge that his feet could not touch ground- when the searing pain tore through his shoulders, as if he wings were trying to rip themselves out at the root. He gasped and plummeted. Quick thinking, even at such a young age he flailed his arms, searching for handholds. He caught a branch with his elbow, but the sharp wood dug into the skin of his forearm before he gripped it with his other hand. So he hung, and he bled, all the while wondering if he would really die when he hit the bottom.
</p>
Hekanakhte came eventually and scooped him up, gaceful and easy flying on his strong, golden wings. His father awaited him on the ground with a stern face, but worrie words.
</p>
"My son." he said gravely, "You are not like us. You are fragile. Your wings cannot taste wind, but the win tastes your blood."
</p>
And Ahmose hung his head like he had done something wrong. When Hekanakhte and Father left, Mentuhotep approached the young halfling quietly.
</p>
Mentuhotep was Hekanakhte's birth twin, but while the latter was strong and wily, Mentuhotep had been born with a lame wing and a blind eye.
</p>
"Ahmose." he said, just as gravely as father had spoken, "They do not understand. Because you cannot fly, it only means that you were meant for something better. It is not a limitation- it's a gift."
</p>
* * *
Mentuhotep disliked small children and loud noises. He was also intelligent enough to realize that it was rather redundant of him to dislike both. Wherever there were small children, there would be loud noises and wherever there were loud noises, there will be small children. Still, he wondered why so many mothers allowed their brats to run free in the streets so close to nightfall. He also wondered why so many husbands allowed their wives to allow their children to do so.
</p>
He limped towards the center of the city catiously, watching his ankles for young ruffians and keeping his cloaks wrapped around him tightly. He couldn't run the risk of someone with a sharp eye recognizing his human form. And while he kept his mind on all of this, he also continued the mental; dialouge that he had started when he left home hours before, hot on Hekanakhte and Ahmose's tail.
</p>
'That little fool...' he grumbled silently, thinking of Meskenit's folly, 'My twin doesn't even have enough sense to keep out of her business. If she would like to get herself embarassed, flaied and sent home with her tail bvetween her legs, well, that's her business. Where Hekanakhte gets off prancing after her on a rescue mission... and dragging Ahmose along...' Mentuhotep massaged his temples. It was true that he didn't have much love for his family, but he did care about Ahmose.
</p>
Well, perhaps "care" was a strong term. Ahmose intrigued Mentuhotep. The very nature of the boy's split existence was a wonder in itself, but that Ahmose had no attatchments to the human world whatsoever was certainly a remarkable psycological trait. One would imagine Ahmose to be, at the very least, desperately curious about humans. When Tepemkau brought the child home mere days after his birthind, Mentuhotep imagined an asolescent full of anger, rebellion and angst. Sneaking off to Cairo at all hours, assuming human identity, teetering dangerously with one foot in the human world and the other just barely grounded back home.
</p>
'But of course not.' Mentuhotep scoffed, 'That was me.' he actually envied Ahmose's dual nature at times. Mentuhotep had become fascinated with humans at a very young age and spent a great deal of his youth in their company. However, he had to be gaurded around his human acquantinces- mind his facial expressions, mind his body language, learn how to read and write Heiroglyphs. Ahmose aside from his wings, eyes and ears, was seamlessly human complete with those small, unconcious gestures that come from a lifetime lived with arms and hands and fingers. If Mentuhotep had been Ahmose, he would have fled to the capital as soon as he was old enough to make the journey on his own, and sought out his mother. Or perhaps, had his wings removed and found a job as a scribe.
</p>
As it was, Mentuhotep had to be content with the small snapshots of human life he grasped. Hours, days, sometimes weeks at a time he had managed to build himself a life that appreciated him much more than Mentuhotep the cripple was appreciated at home.
</p>
"Oh, excuse me sir!" a woman bowed politely in apology as she knocked into Mentuhotep. The gryphon barely caught himself as he fell on his lame foot, but a man beside him caught his shoulders and steadied him. The woman stared at him curiously and Mentuhotep drew his hood tighter around his face.
</p>
'Oh Ra, please let her not have recognized me!'
</p>
"Sir, are you heading towards the palace?" she asked innocently. Metuhotep raised an eyebrow, not sure if she knew who he was or not.
</p>
"Is there a reason I should be making such a pilgrammage, peasant?" he asked coldly, making sure to speak in a higher tongue than she. She quickly averted her eyes in embarassment.
</p>
"I... I am sorry sir. You seemed in such a rush. I wondered if perhaps you heard the rumour?"
</p>
Metuhotep rolled his eyes beneath the shadow of his hood brim, 'A gossip monger. Might as well humour the poor woman.' "And what rumours would those be?"
</p>
The woman looked up at him again, eyes suddenly bright and bold, "That the Pharoh's blessed son has returned! The winged boy that was delivered from the gryphons!"
</p>
Mentuhotep knew what and who she was talking about the moment the words 'blessed son' escaped the woman's lips, but still he allowed a time for the words to sink in. 'Ahmose, oh curses. Enough of these pretenses!'
</p>
"Woman, tell me quickly! Has the boy been delivered to the palace yet?" as Mentuhotep asked this, he tore off his hood and watched as recognition flooded her face.
</p>
"H-h-high Priest Mentuhotep!" she gasped, "Are you really the High Priest? You're supposed to be in some Lower province for a procession this month!"
</p>
"Never mind where I'm supposed to be!" Mentuhotep snapped, fixing his good eye on the woman, "I'm here, so answer my question!"
</p>
"N-n-no..." she stammered, wincing under his glare, "He hasn't reached the palace yet."
</p>
Mentuhotep cursed beneath his breath and left the woman behind, walking as quickly as his uneven legs could take him towards the palace gates.
</p>
* * *
And that's it so far. I've got the entire Egypt part planned out to perfection so far. After Egypt, the action takes place in Babylon, Mesopotamia. Then Gladi'ole (Ryuuguu Japan), France, Russia, Italy, Mesopotamia again and finally, wherever the hell that brothel from 'The Start of Something Else' was.
School is boring. -.-;;
Oh, wait! Somethng noteworthy happened today! I ruined my favorite ring (the creepy eye one. My RL friends know which one I'm talking about ^ ^) today helping some random people I didn't know get their money unstuck from the vending machine. I mean, sure, I only did it because I desperately wanted a Kit Kat Chunky bar, but the point was I did an icrediably good deed at great cost ot myself and didn't even recieve a thank you. People suck. And I like complaining. Good night! (at 11:33AM!!)
Skin Deep Scars
Jenn Young
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</p>
Glossary
</p>
Egyptian Names
Ahmose - The Moon is born ;M Netikerty- She is Excellent ;F Hekanakhte- Ebony ;M Tepemkau- Best of Souls ;M Pasebakhaenniut- The Star That Appears in the City ;F Ankhesenamun- She Lives in Anum ;F Ako- weary, tired ;M Nife-an-Ankh- The Breath of the World ;M Nafretiti- I Appear With Beauty ;F Meskenit- A Goddess at Birth ;F DjaDja Betuke- A Taunt, “Watermelon Head” Emuishere- “Little Cat”, affectionate Nickname Aisha- Peace and Trust
</p>
Other
Omoidasu- Memories, Japanese
-sama, -kun, -chan, -jou, -san, ect- Japanese suffixes, respectful
Tristezza- Sadness, Italian
</p>
Misc Notes
The world of 'Ryuuguu' (of which this is a side story of) is a twisted sort of earth. The places and cultures you will see here are based on Earth cultures at the core, but with a fantasy twist. Yes, Gladi'ole is part of Japan, and At'Mar is a part of Mesopotamia that eventually becomes the Middle East. Egypt is Egypt, but things are very different (the worship of Gryphons, for one, is not present in Egyptian history). You'll catch on eventually. ^_^
</p>
WARNING: This story contains violence, sexual themes, occasional homosexuality, crossdressing, prostitution, depression and cheesy flashback mode. You have been warned.
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(For the continued adventures of Omoidasu, and an explaination of what, exactly, the hell is going on in the first few paragraphs, visit: http://www27.brinkster.com/ryuuguu)
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Omoidasu Tristezza rapped his long, graceful fingers against the dirty tabletop, staring disenchantedly out the window. It was a long, gray day- the kind where the clouds roll in but the rain refuses to fall. “That sister of yours is certainly taking her time…” he sighed, throwing a gentle glance across the table at his companion. Julidan jumped slightly, startled into a attentive pose and nearly spilling his drink.
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“Uh, yeah.” He nodded blearily and collected himself as Omoidasu attempted to hide his grin. The young half-dragon had a tendancy to get lost in his thoughts. It was a learned trait, but not necessarily a bad one, “Rhapsody had some… business to attend to.” His voice was strained.
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“Business?” Omoidasu tore his attention away from the blank window and drew a finger along the rim of his cup, “I suppose it would be rather out of line for me to inquire as to..."
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"Mirai." Julidan sai curtly, obviously not wishing to breach the subject any further. Omoidasu nodded somberly and turned his attention back to the window. One word answers sometimes were all that were needed.
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"Ahh, yes. Losing a parent. Hard to imagine any loss more tragic at such an age."
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"You sound almost like you're speaking from experience."
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Omoidasu blinked and looked at Julidan again. The redhead had a curious expression on his face- curious, but oblivious to the levity of the subject he had just pressed upon, "Well, I..." Omoidasu swallowed and considered carefully how to answer the question. Julidan was not often perceptive, but he was anything but dull.
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"Come to think of it, what do we really know about you, Omoidasu?" Julidan leaned forwards slightly on his elbows, furrowing his brow, "You've been here three winters, yet you've hardly told anyone of your past. Not even Rhapsody or Elise-san."
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Omoidasu shrugged uncomfortably, "Yes, well..." it was his policy not to talk about his past. Foolish and thoughtless as it was, "It's a long story, Julidan. Not one meant to fill anxious minutes in a run down bar." he attempted a charming grin but it was lost on the dragon halfling, who just sighed and relaxed into his chair, defeated.
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"Which means you'll never tell, am I right?" Omoidasu was surprised, wry was not Julidan's specialty though it surfaced on the odd occasion, a strange side effect from his sensai's dry sense of humour.
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So he didn't answer, just stared. The sky was so very gray, like his mother's eyes. Or maybe her eyes had been blue, but he never could remember. It had been so long ago. "Well," he breathed finally, not sure exactly how loud he was speaking, "Do not mistake my motives. I have my reasons."
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2600 BC, Egypt
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There was a rumour, and a very popular one it was. Whispered on the lips of everyone from the lowliest merchant to the highest of the noble houses. Netikerty, first daughter of the Pharoh's favorite wife, had given birth. Oh, but she had not just given birth to any mere mortal- from her body had come a winged child. An angel and messanger from the great Gryphon God Nife-an-Ankh. The royal family was blessed, and Neitkerty was blessed and her demi-God son would eventually ascend to the throne and unite Egypt in a time of need.
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Ahmose, son of Tepemkau of the Pasebakhaenniut clan heard none of these rumous. Named for the way the moon's cycle fell on his birth, none of the prophetic words surrounding the boy's birth reached him in his isolated home far beneath the searing desert sands.
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"DjaDja Betuke!"
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In fact, the only words that currently reached him were that of his sister's immature taunting. She nimbly dodged a heavy textbook aimed directly between her eyes and flicked her tail playfully.
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"Meskenit, whatever qualms you?" Ahmose asked through gritted teeth, curling his ruined papyrus parchment between his fingers. The young female gryphon's tail ceased it's twitching and dropped in dissaproval. She scowled at her brother and began to pace on all four paws.
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"You told father."
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Ahmose sighed, "Could you be a little more specific. I tell father many things."
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"That I transformed and journeyed into Cairo."
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"Yes. And?"
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"That I have a human lover."
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"And what did he say?"
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Meskenit's pout deepened, "That I am too young for such things and, that for my own safety, I should be wary about venturing forth into the capital."
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"Which is exactly what I told you before you skipped off to your little tryst. How about having a little trust in your older brother from now on?"
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Meskenit's name meant 'one who is born a Goddess' and as the only daughter in a noble family of sons, she did her best to live up to the glorified name. She continued pacing, as if grasping at words in her mind, looking for a suitable reply.
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"DjaDja Betuke..." she repeated, under her breath and Ahmose nearly laughed.
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"No matter how many times you say it, my head will not turn into a watermelon."
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Meskenit blinked and snapped her beak open and shut a few times before crying: "At least I do not have pale human limbs!" and fleeing from the study, half galloping, half in flight. Ahmose shook his head and retrieved his textbook, dusting off the cover and briefly flipping through it to check for damage. It was a book of At'Mar tales- a tome that Ahmose had copied over himself. Nights of blurry vision, cramped fingers and bleary headaches though he loved every moment of it.
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'One of these days, I will write a book.' he affirmed silently, sitting at his desk and attempting to salvage his crumpled document. It was an empty promise- after all, every young intellectual hopes to write a novel, or at very least a documentation of history, but Ahmose still felt all the more involved in his intellectualism having proposed it, if only to himself.
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He dipped his quill into the sticky, black ink and put pen to paper, only to realize he had forgotten what he was writing about. He quickly reread his previous notes, only to find that they made little sense and held no consistancy. He mentally berated himself, reminded of the trouble his father went through to procure papyrus, quills and ink for his strange son. Ahmose was the only memeber of the family who could write- being, also, the only memeber of the family posessing those wonderful, dexteric human hands. Gryphon's generally kept an intensely inticrite oral history, though there had been tell of a few bold scribes who had spent many long years developing a method of manipulating quill in their clawed hands.
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But as far as Ahmose knew, he was the only Gryphon with 'pale human limbs'. When he was young, he never questioned his difference, merely accepted it. It didn't make him 'special' or 'inferior', it just was that way. The older he grew, however, the more he began to wonder. Natural, scholarary curiositry. Scientific inquiry. He was indeed an oddity, but no one had ever thought enough to suppose he would want to know why.
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He had theories, of course. Some cynical (perhaps he had been a sort of low grade genetic experiment?) and some imporbable (the result of a coupling order by the Gods). In the end, he often wondered what the point of him being born was. His older brother, first born Hebeny was primed to take over control of the clan once Father retired the position. Ahmose wasn't even second born. In fact, he was the second youngest, and the youngest male. As far as he knew, he didn't hold any significance in the human world either. He'd only been to Cairo four times in his three decades of life and didn't even know his mother's name.
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The word 'Mistake' floated to the surface whenever he followed these trails of thought. He wrote the word down, his handwriting fragmented on the cracked parchment. He stared at it for a long moment, then added: an unplanned event, unexpected turn of events, unpredicted, negative variable. He grimanced, 'That's a lot of 'un's. ' he mused, 'But at least I'm an interesting mistake.'
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"Ahmose!" Ahmose's head snapped up to see the large, dark image of Hekanakhte-Tepemkau-Ankh looming in his doorway, highly unimpressed expression worn on his sharp, birdlike face, "What in Ra's holy name did you say to Meskenit!?" he demanded. Ahmose dropped his quill and leapt to his feet.
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"Did Meskenit say something?"
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Hekanakhte scoffed. It was a deep, threatening growl in his throat. Almost everything Hekanakhte did was threatening, though Ahmose knew there were few kinder souls in the clan, "Say? Since when does Meskenit express herself in a way so rational as words. She stormed out of the den in a huff, disturbed the hatchlings and took flight towards Cairo!"
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Ahmose nodded, sunk back into his chair, processed the words and then smacked himself on the forehead, "Brother, please. You jest. Tell me that you jest."
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Hekanakhte's shoulders twitched, "You know something, Ahmose. You always know something when it comes to our dearest sister. You two were always so close growing up."
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Ahmose raised his eyebrows. He had never considered himself and Meskenit close, but he supposed that she probably did. They were closest in age, afterall, though she was more apt to get in trouble than sober, studious Ahmose.
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"You didn't know, then?"
</p>
"Know what?" Hekanakhte replied tiredly, patience wearing thin.
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"About her human lover!"
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Hekanakhte inhaled sharply, large golden eyes blinking open and closed very slowly, "Ahmose, please repeat yourself."
</p>
"Meskenit has not told you about her human lover?"
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Hekanakhte shook his head slowly, "That... that female..."
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"It's the age." Ahmose shrugged, like it was an excuse.
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"Humans are messy business." The pitch in Hekanakhte's tone was shifting as his anger and worry grew. His tail began trashing wildling and his wings flexed, "Doesn't she know about our history with them? Hasn't she heard tales of how we were nearly warred to extention in battle with them? It's a delicate balance, we maintain with the Egyptians, where they worship us as dieties. If she is discovered..."
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Ahmose caught on quickly, and watched his world reel around him as he began to comprehend the implications, "If she is discovered, the humans will understand that we are only flesh and blood like they!"
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Hekanakhte nodded gravely, then stilled his tail in a sharp, jerky motion, "Well, perhaps I am exaggerating. Father barely remembers the human wars. No human alive will have a family member old enough to remember a family memeber who fought in those wars. The humans have fogotten how to kill us."
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"We can die?" the question slipped off Ahmose's tongue so quickly that the words did not have a chance to run through his brain first. He wished he could take them back even before Hekanakhte looked at him like he was an idiot.
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"Of course we can die." Hekanakhte said softly, "We are not invunerable to certain kinds of priestly magic." he stared at his younger brother for a long moment in eerie silence. Ahmose shifted in his seat uncomfortably, "Ahmose, do not forget- you are only half gryphon. Your human half can bleed. Your human half can die. You only inherited father's inefinite longevity, not his inherent invulnerability."
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Ahmose bowed his head, his gaze flickering unconciously to the long, white scar on his left arm. Oh, he knew how well a human body could bleed. He certainly knew.
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"What are we going to do if they remember?" he asked Hekanakhte softly.
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"Right now that doesn't matter. What matters right now is finding Meskenit before she does something terribly foolish in typical Meskenit fashion."
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Ahmose nodded, and followed his brother.
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It was nearly nightfall when they reached the edge of the city. Hekanakhte transformed seamlessly, easing into his human form with stiff, practiced grace. Ahmose watched quietly and when he was finished asked:
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"What am I supposed to do?"
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Hekanakhte looked him up and down, twisting his human lips downwards in a perplexed frown, "You can't transform, can you?"
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"That's a stupid question, Hekanakhte, when you know the answer." Ahmose flinched, expecting a repremend for his sharp tone, but Hekanakhte seemed to understand the tension the younger gryphon felt upon the edge of the capital.
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"Flatten your ears against your head." he suggested, "And cover them with your hair. Your wings aren't very big, so wrap them around you like an expensive cloak. Perhaps they'll just mistake us for foreign nobles."
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Ahmose smiled to himself and admired his brother's ingenuity, remembering that there were reasons other than age and strength that qualified him as next clan leader.
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"Well, getting here was the easy part. How are we supposed to find her in this mess?" Hekanakhte glowered and lowered his gaze as they passed a merchant with an attractive female dancing provociatively around his products. Peasents milled about, some watching them with intrest through wide, malnourished eyes, most just going about with their lives.
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"We'll have to be deeper into the city, for one thing. Meskenit would never take a poor man as a lover." Ahmose whispered. Hekanakhte nodded- she thought far too much of herself to play mistress to a beggar....
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...a haggard man with unusually light skin trudged by, carrying a heavy load of fresh fruit towards the center of the city.
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A beggar... or a slave. A thought hit Ahomse hard, "Meskenit's a romanitc."
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"Foolish, foolish." Hekanakhte muttered.
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"What if she's taken a slave man into her arms?" Hekanakhte looked at his younger brother in shock, eyes widening in realization. Ahmose continued, "That would be even better than some random noble brat. She'd see herself as some sort of savior or a tragic herione."
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Hekanakhte stopped walking, glancing over his shoulder at the direction from whence they'd come. He chewed his lip nervously- a mannerism that replaced the gryphon counterpart of a clacking beak- and looked at his brother meaningfully.
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"I shall go search for her back in the slave section. You continue onwards into the city."
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Ahmose's eyes widened and his throat tightened, "Hekanakhte, I have not wish to venture further into Cairo on my own."
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"The city only gets safer the further along the Nile you travel. Have no fear."
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Ahmose twitched his ears out of habit, then remembered that he had to keep them hidden. Instead he scowled from beneath his long, black bangs, "If you find Meskenit quickly, come for me."
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Hekanakhte smiled, and was on his way.
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Ahmose had no explaination for why he felt so uncomfortable in human settlements. Afterall, his body was predominently human, though his mind worked like a gryphon's. The sunset faded into darkness, but still, people milled about looking no more interested in him than their evening shopping. Perhaps it was the disintrest that bothered him. Humans lived such short lives that there always seemed to be a sense of emergency about the most trivial of daily activities. They accomplished more in a day that Ahmose could ever hope to in one moon cycle. The world of humans was a messy and rushed mess of conflicting messages of hasty actions. Ahmose supposed he felt most ill at ease because it reminded him that somewhere, deep inside, he was just as mortal as any of these strange, scurrying creatures. Gryphons lived for an indefinite amounts of time. No gryphon ever died, though they sometimes dissapeared. But Ahmose was not a Gryphon- not completely. And already, he knew that he could bleed, was it possible...
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"Excuse me, miss?" Ahmose stopped, tensed his shoulders and froze up. 'Are they talking to me? Am I being addressed as a female?' Slowly, very slowly, Ahmose turned towards the source of the voice. It was a scruffy, middle aged merchant selling crude vases and in pointed lack of a dancing lady friend. The man looked startled when he saw Ahmose's face, and the boy breathed a sigh of relief, 'At least he realizes his mistake.'
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"You... you look very familiar." The man said carefully, "Miss, tell me, are you related to the Lady Netikerty?"
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Ahmose meant to say: "I am male, sir merchant.", but instead, found himself asking: "Who is Lady Neitkerty?"
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The merchant laughed heartily, "You must be from out of town, or one of those youth who thinks it amusing to take avantage of an old man's niavite. The Lady Neitkerty is the Pharoh's wife. I swear, you are the spitting image of her."
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Ahmose was tiring of this exchange, though admitted to himself that it was an interesting study in human behaviour. This merchant was lacking a dancing girl, which seemed almost a necessity in most of the shops Ahmose had seen, and thinking that he'd found a beautiful woman was attempting to lure her in with shameless flattery.
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"Yes, well, as similiar as we may look I have never heard of the woman. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
</p>
It happened so quickly. Such a tiny, insignificant action within the blink of an eye. A child darted out into the street and brushed against Ahmose's leg. Ahmose lost his balance, and in an instinctive attempt to regain his footing, let loose his wings. He steadied himself, but realizing his mistake, pulled his wings in close again. It was too late. For once, all action in the street ceased and Ahmose found himself standing in the middle of a crowd, wings listless around him and fifty pairs of eye trained upon his figure.
</p>
"Demon." Someone whispered.
</p>
"No!" another quickly contradicted, "He's a gryphon!"
</p>
Gasps all around, several awed repitions of the word and the crowd began to sway and rustle with excitment.
</p>
"He must be the Lady's son! The stolen, angel baby born when she was still young!"
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"It's a sign! Didn't the Highpriest say that he woul unite Egypt in our time of need! The Pharoh will die soon, don't you see! He's heir to the throne!"
</p>
"You must come with us, boy!" An elderly man pushe forwards an gripped Ahmose's arm, "We will take you to the palace and you will seek audience with the Pharoh."
</p>
Ahmose was dizzy, and pulled away from the man's grip, wrapping the freed arm around his stomach. He just wanted to dissapear from the crowd and continue his search for Meskenit, "Why... why would I seek audience with the Pharoh?" he asked weakly.
</p>
"Why wouldn't you?" Someone new anwered.
</p>
"Of course, he is your father!" Another added.
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Ahmose was so very confused, "But I have a father. How do you know me? I've never seen any of you before in my life!"
</p>
"He must have been brainwashed and hypnotized by the evil priests who stole him!"
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"He wasn't stolen by evil priests! He was taken by the slaves!"
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"That's not true! Some crazy traders from Babylon kidnapped him and abandoned him in the desert for thirty years!"
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"Whatever it is, the only way we can deliver him to the Pharoh is unconcious."
</p>
Ahmose heard the words, certainly, before the blow to the back of the head came. Just because he heard them did not mean that he was prepared for the blow when it hit. He fell to his knees and watched his wings crumpled around him. After that, everything was black.
</p>
</p>
Ahmose could not fly. His wings were not enough to carry his human body at the strange angle it was built. He attempted this once- threw himself over a cliff face and worked his wings. In and out- up and down. He managed to hoist himself in the air- far enough away from the edge that his feet could not touch ground- when the searing pain tore through his shoulders, as if he wings were trying to rip themselves out at the root. He gasped and plummeted. Quick thinking, even at such a young age he flailed his arms, searching for handholds. He caught a branch with his elbow, but the sharp wood dug into the skin of his forearm before he gripped it with his other hand. So he hung, and he bled, all the while wondering if he would really die when he hit the bottom.
</p>
Hekanakhte came eventually and scooped him up, gaceful and easy flying on his strong, golden wings. His father awaited him on the ground with a stern face, but worrie words.
</p>
"My son." he said gravely, "You are not like us. You are fragile. Your wings cannot taste wind, but the win tastes your blood."
</p>
And Ahmose hung his head like he had done something wrong. When Hekanakhte and Father left, Mentuhotep approached the young halfling quietly.
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Mentuhotep was Hekanakhte's birth twin, but while the latter was strong and wily, Mentuhotep had been born with a lame wing and a blind eye.
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"Ahmose." he said, just as gravely as father had spoken, "They do not understand. Because you cannot fly, it only means that you were meant for something better. It is not a limitation- it's a gift."
</p>
Mentuhotep disliked small children and loud noises. He was also intelligent enough to realize that it was rather redundant of him to dislike both. Wherever there were small children, there would be loud noises and wherever there were loud noises, there will be small children. Still, he wondered why so many mothers allowed their brats to run free in the streets so close to nightfall. He also wondered why so many husbands allowed their wives to allow their children to do so.
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He limped towards the center of the city catiously, watching his ankles for young ruffians and keeping his cloaks wrapped around him tightly. He couldn't run the risk of someone with a sharp eye recognizing his human form. And while he kept his mind on all of this, he also continued the mental; dialouge that he had started when he left home hours before, hot on Hekanakhte and Ahmose's tail.
</p>
'That little fool...' he grumbled silently, thinking of Meskenit's folly, 'My twin doesn't even have enough sense to keep out of her business. If she would like to get herself embarassed, flaied and sent home with her tail bvetween her legs, well, that's her business. Where Hekanakhte gets off prancing after her on a rescue mission... and dragging Ahmose along...' Mentuhotep massaged his temples. It was true that he didn't have much love for his family, but he did care about Ahmose.
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Well, perhaps "care" was a strong term. Ahmose intrigued Mentuhotep. The very nature of the boy's split existence was a wonder in itself, but that Ahmose had no attatchments to the human world whatsoever was certainly a remarkable psycological trait. One would imagine Ahmose to be, at the very least, desperately curious about humans. When Tepemkau brought the child home mere days after his birthind, Mentuhotep imagined an asolescent full of anger, rebellion and angst. Sneaking off to Cairo at all hours, assuming human identity, teetering dangerously with one foot in the human world and the other just barely grounded back home.
</p>
'But of course not.' Mentuhotep scoffed, 'That was me.' he actually envied Ahmose's dual nature at times. Mentuhotep had become fascinated with humans at a very young age and spent a great deal of his youth in their company. However, he had to be gaurded around his human acquantinces- mind his facial expressions, mind his body language, learn how to read and write Heiroglyphs. Ahmose aside from his wings, eyes and ears, was seamlessly human complete with those small, unconcious gestures that come from a lifetime lived with arms and hands and fingers. If Mentuhotep had been Ahmose, he would have fled to the capital as soon as he was old enough to make the journey on his own, and sought out his mother. Or perhaps, had his wings removed and found a job as a scribe.
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As it was, Mentuhotep had to be content with the small snapshots of human life he grasped. Hours, days, sometimes weeks at a time he had managed to build himself a life that appreciated him much more than Mentuhotep the cripple was appreciated at home.
</p>
"Oh, excuse me sir!" a woman bowed politely in apology as she knocked into Mentuhotep. The gryphon barely caught himself as he fell on his lame foot, but a man beside him caught his shoulders and steadied him. The woman stared at him curiously and Mentuhotep drew his hood tighter around his face.
</p>
'Oh Ra, please let her not have recognized me!'
</p>
"Sir, are you heading towards the palace?" she asked innocently. Metuhotep raised an eyebrow, not sure if she knew who he was or not.
</p>
"Is there a reason I should be making such a pilgrammage, peasant?" he asked coldly, making sure to speak in a higher tongue than she. She quickly averted her eyes in embarassment.
</p>
"I... I am sorry sir. You seemed in such a rush. I wondered if perhaps you heard the rumour?"
</p>
Metuhotep rolled his eyes beneath the shadow of his hood brim, 'A gossip monger. Might as well humour the poor woman.' "And what rumours would those be?"
</p>
The woman looked up at him again, eyes suddenly bright and bold, "That the Pharoh's blessed son has returned! The winged boy that was delivered from the gryphons!"
</p>
Mentuhotep knew what and who she was talking about the moment the words 'blessed son' escaped the woman's lips, but still he allowed a time for the words to sink in. 'Ahmose, oh curses. Enough of these pretenses!'
</p>
"Woman, tell me quickly! Has the boy been delivered to the palace yet?" as Mentuhotep asked this, he tore off his hood and watched as recognition flooded her face.
</p>
"H-h-high Priest Mentuhotep!" she gasped, "Are you really the High Priest? You're supposed to be in some Lower province for a procession this month!"
</p>
"Never mind where I'm supposed to be!" Mentuhotep snapped, fixing his good eye on the woman, "I'm here, so answer my question!"
</p>
"N-n-no..." she stammered, wincing under his glare, "He hasn't reached the palace yet."
</p>
Mentuhotep cursed beneath his breath and left the woman behind, walking as quickly as his uneven legs could take him towards the palace gates.
</p>
And that's it so far. I've got the entire Egypt part planned out to perfection so far. After Egypt, the action takes place in Babylon, Mesopotamia. Then Gladi'ole (Ryuuguu Japan), France, Russia, Italy, Mesopotamia again and finally, wherever the hell that brothel from 'The Start of Something Else' was.
School is boring. -.-;;
Oh, wait! Somethng noteworthy happened today! I ruined my favorite ring (the creepy eye one. My RL friends know which one I'm talking about ^ ^) today helping some random people I didn't know get their money unstuck from the vending machine. I mean, sure, I only did it because I desperately wanted a Kit Kat Chunky bar, but the point was I did an icrediably good deed at great cost ot myself and didn't even recieve a thank you. People suck. And I like complaining. Good night! (at 11:33AM!!)