Another Day, Another Dissapointment [Open]

[Micheal Coen]

Micheal walked down the ramshackle streets with his shoulder's sagging. He had gone out again, using one of Cid's ships, but had found no sign of his world, or anyone he knew. Maybe he never would.

What he had found were Heartless. They were spreading over every world, as if some demon spawned plague. He shook his head at the thought. He brought his hand up to his left shoulder and began to scratch it, pulling the collar down enough to reveal a black patch of skin.

Give up on them. They are gone, live for you.

Micheal shook his head again. "No, others must have survived." He said moving towards the hotel where he stayed at.

Why do you care? They mean nothing, you are all that matters. Accept it, revel in it. We can do anything, think to your powers, your gifts. Use them to solve your problems, reach out to the Darkness and call it to you.

"Never." Micheal growled. He had lost everything to the darkness, why would he embrace it like that. Why would he give up everything to such thoughts. "You are the one that means nothing. Who are you?"

YOU.

His breathing quickened as he struggled to hold onto himself, when suddenly he heard something. He moved to face it as the Soul Stealer came to existence within his hand. The blade was curved, as if it were Arabic in design and seemed to ripple with darkness.

[Caine Fang]

Caine had been wandering through this town ever since he'd escaped the man that tried to sell him into God damned slavery. He was not to be a pet, and so he had escaped. He'd had to fight tooth and claw to get out, but wasn't that just one of the joys of life? The slave-trader would not forget him anytime soon; he'd been sure to leave a pretty good mark on that man's leg, and by mark he meant he had bit down hard and listen to the sissy man's cries as he held with his iron grip. A couple punches to the snout and the Fang was satisfied that he'd left a brutal scar. Then he'd left, and now he was forced to wander around this too-happy city that he'd heard referred to as Traverse Town. He was starving, to be honest, but he toughed it. He spent his nights on cold stone and in freezing rain. It was better than being a pampered little bitch.

Caine had been stealing from restaurants whenever he could, robbing from children and adults, jumping on tables, the whole nine yards. However, he wouldn't lower himself to the level of a stray. He wasn't a dumpster-diving idiot. He only got the fresh, good stuff. Of course, that made his chances to steal a little lesser since people seemed to like to kick the crap out of his face, but it was worth it to get a hot, fat steak in his jaws. He'd gotten a lot thinner; his ribs showed very well. Caine hadn't realized it until just this moment; he jumped onto the cement bowl that was part of a fountain, and as he glanced into the water he saw his own reflection. He was gaunt as a ghost, or worse, but that didn't matter. He didn't mind being thin. Less bulk to carry around. Then again, it did make him a little less intimidating. Well, what he lacked in fats he sure as hell made up for with muscle.

Dissatisfied with the image of himself, the pit splached into the water; it drenched him up to his belly, and it was cold, but it felt good, as did the pennies beneath his toes as he waded. He lowered his face to the water and sniffed it. Disgusting. There was chlorine in it. What the hell did people ruin good water like this for? Caine's mouth was dry and he wanted something to drink, but he didn't want to drink this toxic crap. He'd wait 'til breakfast the following morning and go knock some glasses off tables at one of the eateries. He could wait that long. He stood in the water for a few minutes - just stood and enjoyed the coolness on his burning canine body - and then movement caught his sharp golden-brown eyes. He turned his head to take in the sight entirely. The man had brownish-blond hair - a color that Caine felt satisfied to call tawny, since canine colors were his deal - and rather fair skin. The pit bull's ears perked up; the man seemed to be speaking to himself. Interesting.

Caine felt himself grow curious. What did this man speak of? He leapt from the water and over the cement barrier, landing on the ground and shaking his body quickly, metal chain collar jingling about his neck, and he made his way towards the man. Caine was surprised as suddenly a sword of some kind appeared out of the blue in the man's hand; the man had heard him approaching. Not surprising, Caine had been thoughtlessly loud in shaking his fur of water. He lowered his head and slowed, his pale brown fur bristling at his shoulders, and he growled in a voice just as human as the man's, "Don't you be pointin' that stick at me, scrawny."

[Micheal Coen]

Micheal sighed when he saw the dog, and jumped back when he heard the dog speak. "Wha... How, a talking dog?" He furrowed his brow in confusion.

It reeks, remove it from our sight.

Micheal shook his head. "You do not seem to be Heartless." He said releasing his hold on the Soul Stealer, which returned to wherever it stayed when not in his hands. He pushed back his hair to behind his ears as he considered the being before him."I don't suppose your going to make anymore sense then any thing else does." He said with a sigh.

He looked around him and frowned again. "Look if we stay out in the open like this it is just going to encourage more Heartless to show up, and I really don't want to fight anymore today. I have a room at the hotel, and some food. If you follow me, I'll give you some to eat, but I really don't want to be standing out in the open longer then I have to." He said as he turned towards the hotel. He cast an eye over his shoulder to see whether the dog was following him. What a day, he's invited a talking dog to dinner, but really what danger was there now. The worst that could happen is he would die, and maybe then he would be reunited with her.

I would never allow us to die so easily. Of course that power comes with a price.

[Caine Fang]

Caine raised one of his prominent eyebrows on his angular brown face. There was a glint of amusement in the pit's blazing eyes, and his long whip-like tail took up a moment of wagging before growing still again. He replied with a smirk, "Young sir, how does anythin' occur? The Heartless live, but they are mere shadow. The worlds exist, yet no one ever knows unless they travel to and fro. Isn't this so? It's hopeless to seek an explanation. Yes, I speak. But so do all creatures. You just haven't opened your mind to understand." Caine wasn't a dog of many words, so this meeting with this human who stated the obvious was a tad outside of his comfort zone. He laughed again in his slightly bitter voice when the man said he didn't seem to be a Heartless, but he said nothing else. Of course he wasn't a Heartless. If I were a Heartless, sir, you would be dead, Caine thought.

The whole attitude of this man before him was rather... dry. He seemed like such a confused creature, to Caine. He didn't know what it was, but something ticked in Caine's instincts. This was a man to be watchful of. Fearful of, hell no, but watchful of, of course. The man then proceeded to express his disinterest in attracting the attention of the Heartless and said how he was in no mood for a fight. Caine fought the urge to laugh at the human once again; how could he not be in the mood for a fight? Fighting kept you strong. Fighting kept you alive. Fighting made you worthy of being strong and alive, so why resist the fighting? This man was clearly quite a paranoid fellow as well, but Caine kept his thoughts to himself. Caine understood the fear of being out in the open; he was a wild, ruthless beast - when paid enough to be - and he'd hate to be once more taken by that slave man. Keeping his presence hidden was important, but hiding from Heartless? Good God.

The man invited him to his hotel room for dinner, and for only a split second Caine considered telling him hell no and then leaving the fearful man to wallow in his paranoia on his own, but then the emptiness in Caine's belly reminded him that he did, in fact, wish to eat. Before Caine could answer, the man had turned around and had started to walk away. He glanced over his shoulder only once to see if the pit bull mercenary was following him, and it was so; Caine strode at his side as a pet would do with their master, but Caine felt no desire to have that relationship with any man. Caine noticed the man's apparent distraction. What could a guy like him possibly have to think about? He looked a bit wild-eyed from the start, but what could he possibly have to worry about?

[Micheal Coen]

Micheal came up to the yellow door and pushed it open. Inside the room was in disarray. The kitchen area was neat, but that was the extent of the cleanliness. The hamper was overflowing with cloths, many of them soaked in blood. His trash was filled with various bottles of potions, and bandages lay on his counter.

Along every wall were pictures, some made a loose chart of worlds with lines of yarn pulled taut between them. Others were pictures of Heartless, each with numbers above them, some in the triple digits. In the corner was a khaki bag that seemed untouched, and beside his bed was a picture of him with a women. He seemed much happier. They were both dressed in Khaki shorts and they seemed to be standing in a desert.

He went over to the fridge and pulled out some meat and sniffed it to make sure it was still edible. "Do you prefer cooked meat or raw?" He asked as he set it on the counter and went to grab other ingredients. "Well it's not much, but this is what I call home." He said as he went around the room and changed some of the numbers above the Heartless.

[Caine Fang]

Caine followed the man through the alleys. The journey to the hotel was quite a bit shorter than he'd been expecting, really, and he was grateful; he didn't want the man to have more opportunities to make obvious statements like "you're not a Heartless" and "you can talk". They reached the place in a reasonable amount of time and the man opened the door quickly and stepped inside, clearly feeling a bit better now that he was in the comfort of his own home. Caine followed him and the door shut behind them; the canine looked around him to examine the scene. This man's domain was a little sloppy, but it barely mattered to him. He was a dog. He found comfort wherever there was something to lay on, even if that something happened to be dirty, blood-stained clothes. He wasn't opposed to it.

I don't know what the hell I'm thinking about sleeping here for, he thought, a little irritated at his own thinking. I'm tired, but not tired enough to stay with this freak. That's what he told himself, but his body told him to think otherwise. Following his more canine-like instincts now, the pit wandered deeper into the house, nose to the ground and floppy ears perked up. He sniffed around for a while, pcking up all the scents he could find and registering them into his quick-thinking brain. The smell of blood was always easy to pick out, as was the smell of over-the-counter antibiotics and sterilized bandages. This house was full of scents that Caine recognized, which made him feel much more at ease being here. As soon as he caught a whiff of something suspicious, he was out. He'd smelled potions before; their reek was floating through the air of Traverse Town. That was nothing new.

Now that all the smells had been taken in and all rooms with open doors had been explored, the canine felt himself content to walk back to the kitchen, which was the only clean part of the man's domain. He reared up and placed his paws on the counter, sniffing the meat for a second, but he was above stealing when a man planned on giving him the food of his own accord. He answered, "I have no preference, really. Meat is meat whether it's hot or cold." Caine lowered himself to the ground again and sniffed around the kitchen floor, the smells of potions and occasional places where food had dropped filling his nose. The man began to rummage for other ingredients, and over the sound Caine could hear him call this place home. Caine had once had a home, but then his fucking brother had come and ruined everything. What a shame.

Caine looked at the walls now, eyebrows furrowed as he took in the sights. He had seen only a few Heartless, but he could assume that many of these pictures were other Heartless as well. The numbers above each image were a bit foreign as he had trouble reading the human language, but he could tell they were numbers. The man went around, updating the numbers. Caine squinted his eyes, tail wagging a bit as the pit thought. Finally, he asked, "What are those numbers?"

[Micheal Coen]

Micheal paused and sighed. "It's the number of each Heartless I have been forced to kill." He placed a cap on his pen and moved to the food. "Every Heartless was once another living being. when I kill them I get parts of these memories."

And their power.

"That's why I don't like fighting them." He said as he pulled out a frying pan and began to fry up the meat. "I wish I didn't, I wish I only saw them as the monster they are. It would make things much easier. Instead I try to avoid each fight, certain the next memories I obtain will be of someone I know." He said staring wistfully for a second.

They are gone, forever, you already know this, accept it. You sit here and wallow in your misery when you should be celebrating your strength. You can conquer the Darkness and bend it to your will.

The sound of the mat cooking brought him back to reality. He moved to prepare the sides. "What about you, where are you from?"

What does it matter where he's from, he's using our resources for nothing. Kill him, maybe his carcass has value.

[Caine Fang]

Caine was not a dog of many emotions. He did not speak many words. He did, however, listen. It was a skill that not only came naturally, but it was trained. He had an uncanny attention span; every little whisper, every detail, every change in tone and volume was apparent to the pit, and this skill was enhanced simply because he was a dog. Emotions could be heard in tone, and emotions, as he'd been taught, we to be examined and used. As the man began to speak, to answer Caine's question, he was surprised to find that the question brought with it not only an answer, but a great history. Caine was a listener. He sat a few feet back from the path which the man continued to travel, eyes fixed on the face of the human, attentive and quiet, ears perked up in attention. The man spoke. The numbers were the Heartless he'd had to kill.

The next words had not been what Caine had predicted in the slightest; the man received the memories of the Heartless. These numbers, the numbers above the Heartless, were what he had literally forced himself to kill. The pain of receiving these formerly living beings' memories... Caine could not imagine it. Often, some of his own memories were too much to bear, but he bore them well enough. The man feared what he would see when a Heartless fell at his hands. Would this Heartless be the Heartless of someone he held dear, someone he loved? If it was your enemy, even that could be a crushing blow. Caine understood. The pain this man had to deal with... it was beyond what a man should have to bear. Caine was sympathetic, but this man had more to say than the words he spoke.

He could see it on the man's face; he was distracted with other thoughts. Perhaps more memories. Perhaps... perhaps something else. The pit murmured, "Are there other consequences of this... this ability which you were given?" The question was genuinely curious. Not prying. Caine knew that, to this man, his intentions were questionable, and for Caine, the man's intentions were questionable. All that Caine understood, right now, was that this man was hurting. He was afraid of killing the Heartless not because he was afraid of what he was fighting, but who he was fighting. Caine's thoughts moved elsewhere as he thought of the slender, curly-furred caramel-colored poodle of Uptown Lucino who he'd fallen in love with. Had he been the one to kill her... he would never be able to remove that blood from his paws, no matter how long he waded in the fountains.

Caine's attention was brought back as the man moved in front of him, moving towards the other ingredients which he had removed from their holding places only a minute or so ago. The man asked Caine. So it was his turn to speak. Caine kept his sharp, burning eyes on the man as he formulated an answer. He would not lie. He would not keep the truth out. As uncomfortable as speaking and opening himself up made him, Caine was certain that this man did not pose a threat; if he happened to be an enemy at some point in time, Caine could just leap at him and break his neck or something. He began his answer in a very soft voice. "My home was a place called Lucino Bay. It's like two halves of two different worlds. There's Uptown Lucino, Downtown Lucino, and then the tracks which divide them. I was from the heart of Downtown; my father was known as King Fang. He was the ruler of all the happenings.

"Fangs are brutal killers. We're an elite line; we tolerate no nonsense. The dogs by the tracks were just as much our enemy as the dogs of Uptown. We killed who we wanted when we wanted, and our owners did not reprimand us. Even our owners feared us. I was trained to kill my whole life. The one time I put aside my hatred, my father crushed my heart. He may as well be a Heartless; any happiness was like a God damn disgrace to him. The one girl I loved in my whole fucking life died under my own family's claws." His voice had escalated to a snarl; his pupils had dilated as he relived the memories, and suddenly his own sharp breath knocked him out of his intense thought. He leaned back, ears going limp against his skull and eyes once more becoming nearly lifeless but deadly orbs of gold. He took in a long, slow breath and let it out, his entire body relaxing as he watched the man's face. "We are two very different species, sir, but what we have in common is pain." The pit stood and pressed his bony forehead against the man's thigh. "You have my sympathy."

[Micheal Coen]

Micheal watched impassively. Part of him grew concerned that a killer dog was this close to him.. Another part of him sympathized with the canine's plight. A third just raged.

He is a danger to us, end him now. He already knows too much, maybe he has a new power we can absorb.

"My sword seems to let me absorb part of the abilities of those I slay with it." Micheal said with a shrug. "I honestly don't understand much about it. Where I was from we didn't have any magic or monsters. We just had science and history." He said with a half remembered smile. "I was a student of history, but everything we accepted was wrong." He said with the smile fading.

Your world was connected. You have been shown a greater power, revel in it rather then your misery.

"I think everyone has pain in common, I think that's what the Heartless are in the end." Micheal said. "An expression of pain in the universe, and the desire to be connected."

Everyone is connected within the Darkness. We can bring others that same feeling.

He turned back to the cooking. "So now I spend my days hunting for my world. What about you, I can't imagine you can go home."

[Caine Fang]

Now that Caine had given out this information that was so dear to his innermost thoughts, he awaited from dramatic reaction. "Get out, you nasty mutt!" would be humorous. Maybe even a ridiculous "Get along, little doggy." To be honest, that one Caine would've gotten a little bit vicious over. But no, despite his violent past, he was different only in that if he wished to kill it would either be because someone paid him or because he was in the mood. King wasn't telling him what to do anymore, and neither was Xanthe. That's all that Caine cared about, was being free, really. Free, but bound. Funny what being a mercenary could do to you. The man seemed not to care, save for one flicker of sympathy and in that same instant a flicker of uneasiness, knowing that he'd allowed a trained killer into his home.

Caine laid on the ground, paws stretched out in front of him as he continued to watch and listen to the man. That strange sword that the man had carried gave the man his slain opponents' abilities? Caine couldn't mind having that power. If he ever caught Xanthe off guard, imagine what strength he'd have... what Caine lacked in strength, however, he more than made up for in knowing how to use the strength he had to his advantage. So really, he didn't give a damn about getting others' powers. He was skilled enough to be a mercenary; his own strength made his services unique. The man continued about how he didn't really understand why the sword behaved the way that it did. Caine listened as the man spoke of his home and what it was like. They were all about smarts there? How... quaint. Where Caine came from, it was all about strength or vanity, depending on where you lived.

The man, himself, was a student of history, though at this time he admitted that was he had been taught was wrong. One of Caine's ears twitched with curiosity. What exactly did that mean? Well. He wouldn't pry; though the man continued to talk, Caine had the feeling that he was still uneasy. Maybe it wasn't him? The man behaved rather oddly. Perhaps receiving all those memories and others' abilities had messed with his head on a scale that the canine didn't yet understand, and likely never would. After all, he was only staying for a meal. Just a meal. The man's emotions were on a roller-coaster, it seemed. One moment, a smile could be seen on his face, and the next he was frowning as though he'd just been hit by someone he held dear. It was a peculiar thing when the man referred to the Heartless as an expression of pain. Caine figured that the Heartless were a pain, but he hadn't thought of them as merely an expression of it. That's what he got for being so "simple-minded." Ha.

The man returned his attention to the meal. He spoke; he was hunting for his world. Caine thought of his world when the man mentioned it. No. He couldn't return home. But he couldn't return for more than one reason. The first reason was that it was physically impossible for him to make it there; while Heartless had their fancy shadows to move around in at will, Caine had been muzzled and forced into a stupid slave-trader's Gummi ship to sell Caine as a pet. The bastard was lucky Caine left him off with just a minor leg wound ('cause ripping someone's leg open was obviously minor). Had he been in a real shitty mood, Caine was certain he'd have gone straight for the throat. The second reason was that Caine felt no desire to return home. In fact, he was opposed to it. He wouldn't go crawling back to the people who'd disowned him from the Fang family and start whining like a pup just because some idiot human enslaved him.

Caine merely shrugged in response to the man's question, lowering his head onto his paws and watching him carefully. He answered softly, "Home is where the heart is, and last I checked my heart was in my chest."

[Micheal Coen]

Micheal grinned slightly. "I wish it were that easy, I really do. If I could embrace that then I could settle here, use my knowledge to help others, try and help who I can, but I can't. I know it's out there somewhere, waiting. I know she is out there." He said not realizing he had slipped up and said her. He shook his head. "So I won't rest until I find it."

He finished the meal and set out two plates, one that had two side dishes along with it, and another that was mostly meat. He held the plates up and then looked around. "I must admit, this place is kind of small." He said as he placed the plate on the floor. "You don't mind eating from the floor do you?" He asked as he set his plate down on the small table."I must admit as strange as it is it is nice to have the company. Do you stay near here?" He asked as he turned to his food, but did not seem to eat much of it.

Do not invite him to stay longer, this has already been a gross waste of resources. Send him away at least, if you won't kill him.

[Caine Fang]

Caine was amused by his own little comment near the end. Still, it was how he felt. He was certain that he had it quite a bit easier than this guy, despite his own problems. The man had to live with memories of those who had suffered as Heartless; he could see their lives, basically. And all Caine had to do was avoid the dog catcher and his family. This man couldn't avoid himself, nor could he avoid the Heartless. This man knew that as well. Caine listened when the man spoke again, and this time something caught his interest. He spoke of his home world once more. He was searching. But it was not only his home that he sought. It was a woman, a "she", from his home. Who was she? A lover? Family? Caine felt the curiosity grow, but he remained silent. The man either did not care that he'd mentioned "her", or he hadn't noticed. The distant look in his eyes pointed to the latter. The man was determined. Good.

Caine watched the man begin to move about the small dining around, one plate with meat and some other food, and then one solely of meat. I hope that one's mine, he thought, attempting to keep back his salivation. Despite being able to speak and act logically as a human, he was still a dog. Sometimes canine instincts took over. All he could do was fight it. The man made a comment about his home being rather small as he bent down and set the plate consisting of meat on the floor next to Caine. Caine shrugged and replied with a smile, "Well, I know from experience that your house could be much smaller. I had to live in a cheap dog house for my first couple years of life. This is like heaven compared to that dump." The man then asked if he minded eating from the floor. In response, the pit shook his head and bent down to grab the meat in his jaws. Delicious.

The man himself sat at the table and merely picked at his own meal, but now, at least, he was attempting pleasant dinner conversation. He said how pleasant it was to have company - despite how odd the company was. How often was it that a human invited an English-speaking canine to share their lovely dinner with them? He doubted it happened daily, let alone yearly. The man then asked if Caine stayed near here. The pit swallowed the mass of meat that he'd been lazily gnawing on, then looked up at the man and replied, "I've actually not really been staying in any place. Just been wandering here and there. God knows how I'd hate to be cornered and captured by a damn slave trader or dog catcher or whatever it is you want to call it." Caine took another bulky piece of meat in his jaws and tore of a large scrap, swallowing without chewing and then doing the same for the rest.

[Micheal Coen]

It wishes to be free, let it remain as it wishes, away from us.

Micheal chewed his food thoughtfully before looking at the walls around him. "Look, I understand what it is to lose your world, and I know what it is to lack a home." He said as he took another bite.

You never listen, why can't you understand. We need all of this to survive, our resources are limited. Why must your heart bleed so, it denies you every good choice, every fun opportunity. why must you do this to us. We could rules this swine, with only a small amount of planning. Or we could just have fun. It's not that hard, just surrender to the moment.

Surrender to the moment? Micheal thought. Maybe the first good advice you have given. He looked up. "I pay for this room monthly, but most of the time I'm not here. I am constantly on the move from world to world. So there is little point in letting an empty room go to waste. If you want to, you could stay here." Micheal said with an inviting smile.

[Caine Fang]

Caine continued mowing through his food as though he'd never eaten before in his entire life. He admitted he was acting like a pig at the moment, and he really wasn't that hungry, but, oddly enough, he was already comfortable here. He lay on the ground, tail wagging slightly, and he ate his food quite sloppily in his dog-like fashion. The man, on the other hand, was slow and steady when chewing his food, a trait which Caine usually displayed, but currently ignored. Then, swallowing the food, the man looked around and then spoke again. Caine, with his plate empty, looked up and stared at the man. He understood how Caine felt. He had no world. For a moment, the dog felt sympathetic. It hurt Caine; his home wasn't lost, but he'd lost his home. The man, on the other hand, had lost his home and had his home lost. The man had no choice of returning.

There were several moments of silence afterwards, and in that time Caine stood, grabbing the plate delicately but tightly in his powerful jaws, slinking into the kitchen and raising himself up onto the counter to set the plate there. He sank back to the ground and left the kitchen, looking around for a place to lay down. That was the first sufficient meal he'd had in quite a while, and now he was weary. He turned around to stare into the kitchen again as the man began to speak. So he traveled from world to world. Big deal. Why did that matter to Caine? Most of the time the man wasn't there. Okay. Fine. And? There was little point in letting the place go to waste. Go to waste, what did that mean? Then the man got to his point and Caine's entire body froze, his sparking eyes shooting up to the man's face.

”If you want to, you could stay here. The man’s voice was steady and clear, and it was so weird. Is he... serious? Caine wondered. Yep. There wasn't a hint of a joke or sarcasm on his face. He meant it. Caine considered it. Well... I suppose I wouldn’t mind staying here. As long as I’m not his pet. I could help him out... this place is trashed. I could keep it picked up for him. I wouldn’t mind helping him out with, ah... “shopping”. Who would chase a dog carrying a frozen turkey, anyways? Caine sat back on his haunches, his dark face thoughtful. ”If you wish for me to stay then I will. What can I do to thank you for this opportunity?”

[Micheal Coen]

Micheal chuckled. "It's fine." Micheal said. "If you help around the place, I'm sure it will be fine."

No it won't, at least ask for munny. Get something out of this flea bag. Do not just let him stay here, this is how we get used.

He turned back to his food and finished much of it before taking the plate to the kitchen and setting it beside the other plate. He went to his cupard and took a few pills and swallowed them down with water. He turned to Caine. "I mean if us worldless can't look out for each other, who else will?"

He returned to the bed and took out a journal and began to write. Then he remembered he had a guest and looked up. "I'm sorry, where are my manners. I think this place has some sort of TV, it's all stuff I've never seen before, but maybe you'll find it entertaining." He said as he looked around for the remote. "I am afraid the only other form of entertainment I have is various textbooks on either the Heartless or other worlds."

Nothing fun.