Written in Blood (-m-)
 

.


Pale eyes glared at the meager selection of information he could find on the subject he was researching. Stupid library no wonder it was closing, however his teacher demanded they had some research in hard copies. Did no one believe in the idea of books any more? The young boy twisted his thumb across his ipod switching to a better song. He leafed through yet another dumbed down version of general facts most of which he already had in his notes. Oliver slammed the book shut, its loud thump earned him many glances by the rooms quiet patrons. He simply slid the book back in its place on the shelf and continue to peruse the other volumes near that call number. Just as he was about to try his search again he came across a cloister of books that looked redeemable. When he picked up the last book he heard a small thump and something like childish giggling. He peered around to make sure he wasn't insane. Suddenly Oliver jumped. He turned to see one of the security guards. “Closing time, please bring all your books to the front for check out.” Oliver nodded dumbly as the man drifted to find more loose patrons. No he would not leave until he found something.

Drifting towards the children section he grinned feeling the odd tug of nostalgia. He paused for a moment and heard children giggling. He turned towards the section . It seemed different, perhaps because he was too old for fantasy or maybe the library just went through remolding. As he got closer he found that some one had abandoned a single thick volume on a the rocking chair. He bend down reaching for it fingering the embossment on the spine. Oliver opened the book idly falling into the rocking chair. Much to his chagrin it was blank. He flipped to the back wondering if there was a name or an address but it simply read 'the end' in some of the most beautiful script Oliver ha seen. He flipped back to the front thinking the book would make a nice sketchbook however there was text. 'sic incipit' the voice says 'so it begins' urgently and just barely. “so it begins?”

Words flew by Oliver's face and it felt like some mysterious force had put a vacuum cleaner against his stomach with the setting on full blast. He fought against it but in the end he tumbled into darkness surrounded by the mocking voice continuously uttering so it begins. When he landed the ground knocked the wind out of him causing his glasses to go askew.

( If there are any changes you want me to make let me know. )

(it's beautiful, i've read beginings to novels at this calibur sans typos of course.)

it awoke from it's dreaming prince someone was touching the book. take it reached out.

sic incipit

it found fabric

so it begins?

it pulled.

the book was awake, it was awake, the story would once again begin. it bowed 'welcome my lord, i have been waiting'

Oliver let out a heavy sigh, nothing felt broken that was the important thing. Not only that but the sucking feeling against his stomach had stopped. He groped around the ground for his belongings first finding his glasses and then his fingers felt the familiar canvas of his satchel. He had hopped that his eyes were deceiving him but even with his glasses fixed he felt like he was in an insane asylum with out the padded walls, drowning in a sea of white. When the voice spoke to him, he jumped pulling his satchel to his chest to act as a shield between what ever had called out to him. Frantic eyes searched the void but found nothing. “Whoo ar-are you?” He stammered but more to the point he asked aloud, his voice finding more firmness. “Where am I?”

it swirled into existance. 'my lord' it bowed 'you are 'i am whoever you want me to be' it paused 'and this your world' it looked up at him through it's bow a smile formed.

“Tch.” The voice would have to deal with Oliver's skepticism. “Stop calling me my lord.” he inched away from the thing that bowed before him. Its just a dream, you fell asleep in the library. He thought needing some sort of insane logic to cling to. Though a small part deep with in his subconscious admitted to never feeling self aware before. The smile crept him out even more. “Don't p-play with me.” Trembling hands searched his bag for a xacto knife, an artist greatest friend and weapon. This time he expected a decent answer from the thing. "Where am I?"

it stared curiously at the object in it's lord's hand 'i have no name for my lord but my lord, you are in the book, my book, my lord, name yourself and i shall call you by it' it's blank face lost the smile as it waited for a reply

He tucked his knife closer to his body. He had seen way to many crimes shows and knew how this worked. As long as he gave this mysterious man what he wanted, Oliver could possibly get out of this alive. However that didn't mean he could have some fun with the strange man. “A... name?” his eyes searched his eye lids for an answer debating if it was worth it to lie to the creature. “Oliver,” He fought against the manners that had been drilled in his head and didn't offer the strange being his hand. “Which book?, it damn sure doesn't look like a book.” No it looked like Bugs Bunny had erased Daffy Ducks world and he was caught in the middle of the fray.

'oliver' it looked as happy as it could without features 'the book of course, you touched me, woke me up, you are here' it did not know how to speak any clearer. it however felt the change in itself from oliver's secert wish, he let it form his shape. 'oliver' it looked pleading 'name me...please'

Oliver staggered backwards as the thing moved forward. “What book?” He touched many books, after all he was in a freaking library. The more he watched the shadow the more it took shape. For some reason he stood transfixed staring at the man as the shadows curled into waves of long hair that curled around his skin. It reminded him even more of a fantasy novel since the newly formed man moved with grace. His eyes locked on to his and for a moment he forgot to breathe. Oliver was thankful that his imagination censored out the lower parts of the man by giving him black and red pants that reminded him of pirates clothing. “Who are you?” He asked again hearing it ask Oliver for a name. He looked a little dumbfounded not sure what to name it. "Fine, you can be Zosa." His steps backwards were hastening now any moment threatening to break into a run.

it tasted the name ...zosa 'i am zosa' it's bow turned into a sweeping half-bow and his's skin melted into an ocean of tan his hair a luxurios auburn wave down his back. his eyes however became pearlecent like a sharks belly, like the gem still around his neck. a deviation from the wish. zosa took a breath in, deep and full, the sigh out fixed his features. he looked as natural as could be but for the eyes. zosa kneeled 'i am yours'

For the moment Oliver stared. The man looked beautiful and was certainly something out of his dreams. Perhaps it was the fact that the strange man before him didn't actually speak, or that he just formed out of no where and decided to attached himself to Oliver. What ever it was, the sweeping bow and kindness was not enough to keep Oliver rooted in one spot for long. He did not trust it. “No...” He said in a small whisper of rebellion. Slowly his legs started to work and Oliver ran, into the void of whiteness not sure of where he was going. Clenching his eyes shut he prayed he would wake up soon.

'...no?' he disapaited into the world again and watched. oliver ran as far as he could into void. zora felt a clench in his chest, his crystal hurt....no, under it. PAIN. he manefested in front of his lord oliver and caught him



(sorry, been lurking on your other rp)

( Lol which one @.@ Also I have one small request BD that it snows.)

There was a loud slapping sound that echoed through the void. Oliver ran into something solid and fleshy. He tumbled a little bit trying to prevent both of them from falling. Instantly he opened his eyes to see that it was, the man. Startled deer like eyes gazed upon the man, inwardly Oliver cringed. “Listen, Guy.” He didn't know that he had actually named Zosa, he thought it was a joke. “I don't know what kind of sick game you want to play, but” He took a deep breath. “please, just let me go... I have a paper to write and... and...” He tried to think of more excuses not to be near the man. Something about him looked pain and made Oliver stop, he was sure he was going to die so he tried another tactic. “If I play with you will you let me go?”

oliver put his hands on zosa the warmth eased his pain the look the other gave before he began to cringe and ramble doubled it back again. zosa began be become upset, there was something wrong! he stood there oliver barely touching him barely looking but speaking fast and in an upset mater, all zosa knew was it had to stop so he did the only thing he knew to do. he placed his hands on the boy's chest and looked for a wish. a chill took him and he grew calm, from the greatest reaches of the voild snow began to fall. he could feel a crystal form under his hands

(mori)

( oh god >< my demons are so bad. )
The hand surprised him, but the touch was gentle. He smacked Zosa's hands away. He did not desire the touch of a strange hallucination. Oliver opened his mouth to tell him off but something cold and wet tickled his nose and yet again on his shoulder and any where his bare flesh was exposed. A few more crystals danced about his face landing on his glasses. Oliver couldn't help but smile. Snow always made him happy. His lips formed into a small o blowing out long breaths of air and watching them turn into tendrils of wisp. Oliver brushed at the ones that cling to his hair with the cuff of his shirt. “Why did it start snowing?”

a smile. and a crystal pure as the snow falling around them both. 'when you wanted it to' zosa smiled then too, calm is what he needed. 'oliver....you've begun the story'

Oliver snorted. Most stories he read began with once upon a time or in the beginning. His eyes went from something blissful back to its usual skepticism. “I wanted it to?” He found himself repeating the words. How could this thing know what he wanted when Oliver had no idea what he wanted. A shiver snaked its way done his spine, as more snow mounted on top of Oliver. “How does this story end?” He asked folding his arms across his chest so that Zosa could not touch him any more.

zosa looked at oliver and with a thought removed the snow, it fell still but no more landed on the shivering boy. he blinked 'you tell it of course' zosa had thought this was a known thing but his lord kept asking and asking such simple things, only now after the story had begun did he even wish to tell it 'you wish for somethning and it happens, that makes a story. we can have once upon a time too, you are my lord you tell the story' he looked imploringly into the eyes of oliver. 'do you understand?'

Oliver nodded though he didn't understand. Some part of his mind was waiting for a camera crew to come out of the white and tell him that he was on some new reality tv series. The person before him kept imploring that he was in control of the story, but Oliver had grown out of fantasy when he was a child. “Alright, I'll play this game.” He said it as more something he needed to hear. “Do I have to say I wish or will things just pop up?” He licked his lips no longer hugging himself since it ceased to snow on him. “How many wises do I get?” Rules, one thought. There had to be rules it was the last vestige of sanity that Oliver wanted to cling to.

rules. something zosa could do, rules were easy, they defined the vey fabric of all that is. 'there are rules, yes. you have as many wishes as you have, you can ask for anything that is not harmful to you or to me, i cannot harm myself or you. you may wish aloud or silently but you are new, you will have to wish through me, in time you may try on your own but know all wishes come true.' he recited this all dutifully, the words ingrained into his very being 'you can make anything you wish to tell the story or you can stay, you cannot leave before the story is finished. i will do whatever you wish of me as long as you break no rules, breaking rules have no effect.' he blinked. the snow was piling high around them, he wondered when the wish would end soon it would past their legs, he thought maybe his lord wanted to live under the snow like a fox. he wondered how long before they were submerged under a blanket of snow, he wondered if he should keep his own person free of it, the cold hardly bothered him but the weight of it was oppressing at his back

“Great I have my very own genie,” He bit his lip chewing over the rules, that last bit of information was confusing. Breaking the rules had no effect ergo it was okay to break them? He wanted to test this theory out, but first he needed to know how to make a wish. When the snow started Zosa was touching him. Another question started to rise in his mind. He reached out mimicking Zosa's actions and bashfully touching the mans bare chest. It was warm and breathing. Oliver wiggled his fingers on Zosas chest before finally uttering a wish. “I wish that the story would end.” Zosa didn't say he couldn't wish for that so he felt he wasn't breaking any of the rules.

his lord touched him and uttered a wish. nothing happened of course, he had tried to cheat. his wish was wasted 'you have to tell the story, you may not skip to the end, there is no end without a middle' he felt himself changing again, the touch bled over more of his lord's first wish. he felt himself grow a little taller


(oops, btw i edited the paragraph)

( hope you don't mind if I correct it in this response, instead of editing my last post.)

A dejected sigh escaped his lips. He should have been paying more attention to Zosa, when he spoke. Oliver closed his eyes unable to suppress another shudder. It wasn't from the cold the strange man gave him chills. Never in his life had simply had every thing he wanted land in his life with out some consequence. His mind was screaming there had to be some monkey's paw some place in this world. He had forgotten he was still touching Zosa when he mentally wished that the world had some type of environment. As much as he loved the snow all of the white in the white void was starting to unnerve him. If this really was some sort of story shouldn't there have been a castle or an inn or something. Olivers mind did not envision something , like an actual medieval paradise but more along the lines of various movie adaptations of what fairy tales should have been, some what luxurious but most of all had indoor plumbing.

a wish! a good one, a familiar one. he smiled softly.the snow melted into trees and houses, they stood in a busy street, peasants surrounding them from all angles calling their wares visiting their reletives, doing the days shopping. a castle could be seen in the distance. the streets were clean but dusty. a horse drawn carrage passed by the two suddenly.

'it is a good wish and a fine place to begin a story' he looked at his lord. 'who are we oliver?'

(it kills me inside to butcher it so hahaha~ poor squaller and flea free town)

Oliver yelped and jumped bumping awkwardly into Zosa. The loud beating of his heart drowned out the people clamoring for his money. He nearly gave himself whiplash, twisting his head around at an alarming rare gaping bewilderingly at everything. What were they doing at a Renaissance fair? “Who are we? I thought we covered that? I'm Oliver your Zosa or what ever you want to be. ”

(just to let you know I feel bad choosing what your character should be so you are going to have to it.)

he wrapped his arms around his lord to protect him. looking down lightly. it was odd, before they were eye to eye, looking down he stared into those eyes. are we royal, are we peseant, are we rougues?

pick a class and i will start the adventure part of it^^)

Oliver looked around unsure. Now he thought he had stepped into a giant live action role play, with the exception that every thing materialized out of nothing. He didn't outwardly admit it but he felt either his sanity was ebbing away or he should just believe Zosa's claims that they were in a book. He took off his glasses cleaning small mud specks from the carriage. “I don't know.” He said truthfully putting his glasses back on wiggling free of Zosa's hands. . He felt like what ever he choose would be very important and if he was going to be stuck in the world he wanted it to be a good one. At the very least, Oliver wanted to think over a plate of something hot and delicious. It was too bad that medieval culture did not have fast food.

zosa loosened his grip when oliver became restless in his arms and sought to pull away. he plainly read on the other's face that he was not ready just yet to make that choice. a not-quite-wish for food tickled behind zosa's eyes. he tugged oliver lightly by the wrist into a nearybye inn, distraction is what the boy wanted, not food, not really but food was enough of a distraction for zosa not to mind.

they went into the building and closed the door back behind them, though it was day outside there were no windows inside and the lamps candles and tourches used for lighting gave it an evening cast. zosa pulled oliver along to an empty booth easily in veiw of the door and bar but far enough from either to give the illusion of spectors should anything happen. he bid his master sit down then instead of sitting acros the table he sat down next to him blocking oliver from any potential harm.

'do you know what you wish to eat oliver?' he smiled at the boy next to him

Oliver stumbled along behind Zosa. He attempted to struggle against Zosa but once he saw where they were going he stopped and dutifully followed, even sliding next to the wall with his guide beside him. “Its too much to ask for a big Mac?” He said surveying the room around him. It was a regular din of inspiration, which was what Oliver was hoping for. At the bar he saw thieves, rogues typical of the fantasy world. He also spied their plates. Most of them had some strange meat rolled up in a gravy with rolls and chopped vegetables. It made his mouth water and his stomach grumble. “We can have that.” He gestured towards the nearest table.

While a serving wench came and brought them two pints of the house special, promising them their food in a timely manner. Oliver continued to think. He wasn't good at fighting and felt bad when he took things that weren't his, so thieving was out. At last his eyes settled on a lone lad wearing a billowy shirt and tights. His fingers strummed a strange instrument that made Oliver yearn for his guitar. “So what are you?” He asked, turning his attention away from the lad and back to Zosa. It was something he was still unclear about. Oliver tilted his head and narrowed his eyes wondering if Zosa had changed recently.

zosa watched the boy intently, his natural unbound curiosity was so apealing to zosa he could not refrain. he reached his hand lightly over to the other wanting to touch that mind, to see the mysteries of his soul, to grant the secret wish he could feel still inside of him. he was interupted however by the boy's question

' i am...i am a book. no. i am a wish.' close 'i am...i, i am a desire...' he was closer but still it was not quite right 'i....once upon a time,' he tried again in words he knew were not his but would teach him all the same how to answer the other 'there was a book. it had all the things inside of it anyone could wish for. once upon a time there was a lonely book noone would read.' he paused for a moment the weight of the words sinking, he knew all of this but as with everything else he knew though he was certain it was true he knew it not before it was said. 'this book made a wish. this book wanted to be loved, to be read, to be kept. this book wished for a friend.' he paused again, the pain from his first encounter with the boy was back, not as intence but just as painful, a dull ache he could not place. 'once upon a time long after the book made a wish a boy with blonde hair and eyes like love contained, a sad boy, made a wish. once upon a time a book tried to grant that wish' he stopped there, the words drying up in his mouth. he had so many questions himself but he knew no answers would be supplied now if ever, a story was to be read not scrutinised. he contented himself with what new knowledge he had gleaned instead. he looked over to his lord

Oliver listened to the man he knew as Zosa. His fractured story some what repetitive like a broken record. As much as Oliver wanted to go, it pecked at his human decency. He just couldn't leave Zosa alone. He yearned to know what happened to the previous children that he spoke of, however, one look at Zosa's face and Oliver bit his tongue. He suppressed a shiver looking away quickly from the strange way Zosa was looking at him. “Forget I asked.” He said running his fingers nervously through his hair. What was going to happen to him once he reached the end? If he reached the end. It was the if that had him worried the most. Zosa can't harm him but what about the world?

He was thankful when the wench brought their food over. Gentle fingers tugged at the rim of the plate pulling it next to him. “I guess I should be clearer next time I ask a question.” He mumbled guilty trying to laugh. “ I merely wanted to know what character you were.” He plucked a carrot off his plate, glad to have it occupy his mouth. It was warm and faintly sweet, and kept him from saying more things to upset Zosa.

zosa did not understand. the story he told, though not exactly what the other had asked for was what he wanted to know, it was the question plaguing him since zosa had first asked for a name. zosa looked down at the plate in front of him. 'i am hungry' however instead of taking the spoon in hand he pushed the plate away. 'may i tell you a story?' he looked over to the other expectantly.

(sorry for the delay my laptop finally kicked it while i was replying yesterday)

( Tis fine XD )
Oliver looked at the other, no offense but he seemed to be full of stories. It some what amused Oliver but he kept the mirth from his face. “One moment.” If he and Zosa were going to continue talking then Oliver felt he must be able to see him with out awkwardly twisting his body. Oliver dipped under the table and crawled to the other side popping up in front of Zosa. “Alright tell me a story Zosa.” He said plucking away at the roll.

the changing of places was unexpected. he was hoping to keep oliver safe by playing his part as the knight. he hoped simply telling the boy would be enough, for sure it was too late by far to stop it. 'once upon a time' he spoke quickly' a knight and his bard set off on an adventure. they went into an inn to dine but were accosted by bandits seeking to steal the riches of passing travelers. these ruffians dressed themselves as peasants and peddlers but at the call of the noon church bell' a bell rang and zosa sped up' they stripped off their disguises and locked the doors sealing all inside'

Oliver wanted to clap sarcastically, it was only a beginning and it felt a little cliché. He glanced around the room looking at the bard. There was the bard but where was the knight? He didn't realize that Zosa had read his heart and understood it that Oliver's wish was to be a bard. The young boy also didn't expect to be part of the story, especially since most of the time he read a book, he was god he knew what was happening. Turning back towards his food, he realized his clothing was shrouded by a sliver robe and something hard was poking in his side. Oliver didn't have time to inspect it as a heavy hand clasped on to his arm firmly pulling him from the table. He flailed about in alarm trying to stop the unknown hands from pulling him away.

'UNHAND HIM FIEND!'zosa yelled pulling his rapier free and pushing it through the wrist of the bandit grabbing roughly at his lord. angling it to twist oliver free of the screaming man's grip he rushed from his chair to bash in the man's face. as he made first contact with the man another came upon his side to cut out a piece of his side. zosa turned his ankle and half falling kicked the incoming man in a side-sweep to the thigh. he hit the ground roughly abraising the hand holding his sword and scraping the elbow, he quickly pushed himself up and lept for the nearest bandit.

Oliver was in a little bit of shock, his new cloak was now drenching in a bloody hand mark. Blood was something Oliver had only seen on tv shows like CSI, never in massive amounts, and never on the edge of a blade. Oliver opened his mouth and screamed. He made a mad grab for the end of the table hauling himself up and away from the carnage. Some where in his panic Oliver tried to get a hold of himself, telling himself that it was just a book, Zosa said he couldn't be hurt. He found his knife but it had turned into a small dagger, that Oliver felt was useless. His hands welded it though along with the other object he realized was a lute. Finding that was more helpful he ran up to a man that was attempting to attack Zosa from behind. Holding his instrument like a club he whacked the man in the back of the head, causing a rather unsightly lump.

(someone has been reading warrior u)

zosa broke the neck of the bandit in his arms but was drug down from behind by the weight of a semi conscious bandit. he wriggled around and saw over the man's shoulder a frightened oliver holding high his lute. zosa quickly came to and pushing the man aside scrambled to his lord. 'my lord!' not stopping to see if anyone else was going to attack he bowled over his master and rolling to his feet lurched towards the door with the hapless oliver in his arms, he turned shoulder first to the heavy door and rammed into, the sickening sound of wood being crushed could be heard but it did not stop him, he pushed through til the splintering hinges broke and they were free. he tumbled out onto the road and into the crowd certain the bandits would not follow. he ran haphazardly into a corner ally and fell slick in his blood and that of their aggressors.

( What is Warrior u? )

Oliver just clenched himself into a ball as he was carried, bewilderingly watching the things happen to him. When he was finally able to wiggle free from Zosa's grasp, the man was lying on the ground. He quickly rolled him over not sure if he was hurt or just exhausted. His brain didn't have time to understand what was going on has shaky hands nimbly touched a wound. He used his knife to cut up some of his cloak. "You idiot." He cried in an angry panicked voice. "why.. you... you should have warned me." He pressed the cloth to the wound.

he could not sleep though the pain of his wounded arm. his lord surly did not mean to hurt him the book would not have allowed it but it ached all the same. he tried to slide up against a wall but could not manage much more than a choked cough. he knew he could not die either but he worried for a moment he may. pain was not something he was familiar with 'my lord...'