"Empire State of Mind"
By Chocolate Moosey
Liz pinched the two sides of the tiny plastic bag together between her thumb and forefinger, rubbing them together. It was a strangely silent fall night; the distant wails of police sirens and thrumming pulse of muscle cars blasting their bass had died off hours ago. In their wake remained only the skitter of dead leaves across the pavement and the occasional creak of empty machinery that left a hollow fear in her chest.
The blonde demon of Brooklyn was situated in her usual bed made of chipped metal and rotting wood: a deteriorating stationary carriage upon a dilapidated carousel. A handful of tattered blankets over her lap protected her from the icy chill that suggested a cold, early winter. Unceremoniously stuffing the bag of weed into her bra, Liz let her eyes skim the abandoned amusement park in search of her sister.
In all honestly, she hated the place with the silhouettes of crumbling rides and attractions—the vague suggestion of once-bright colors in the night prickling her vision. Everything was dark and intimidating, hulking or skeletal, much like the beastly city they ruled over with an iron fist.
With no immediate sign of Patti, Liz reached back into her shirt and extracted a lighter and a cigarette, shoving the sick between her teeth as she cupped her hand around the end, triggering the tiny flame. A slender form slung over the body of a blithely-grinning horse was illuminated before her, the younger Thompson sister's eyes glowing mirror-like as a blank smile curled across her face.
"Fuckshit!" Liz swore, jumping at the startling image and causing the small fire to blow out. "Don't do that, Patti!"
"Do what?" The girl giggled in a broken little whisper. A cold chill ran down Liz's spine—there were occasions when her puppet-like sister scared her more than anything in the run-down theme park around her.
"Just sittin' there in the dark and not sayin' anything." Liz explained, re-igniting the lighter and spreading a warm, red glow over the tip of her cig. "Scares the fuckin' shit outta me, kid."
"Sorry." Patti offered in a sing-song voice, giggling under her breath as she scratched at the chipping paint on the back of the horse's head. "Hey sissy… what's in the bag that guy gave you?"
Liz's hand instantly flew to her breast, cupping around the treasure she'd stored there. "Somethin' good." She grinned wickedly, giving it a good pat. "Gotta find me a new pipe though… I think we got enough money left."
"Can I have some?" Inquired Patti innocently. Horror rose in the pit of Liz's stomach at the thought of her sister under the influence of the drug.
"Hell no." She snarled, shifting back into her makeshift bed as she removed the cigarette from her lips, blowing a stream of smoke into the air. "Any idea how many people we had to rob to get this stuff? S'possedly this is real good shit according to Lio."
"So you're just gonna spend the night gettin' fucked up again, huh?" Patti asked sadly; Liz saw her slump forward onto the horse, defeated. Her heart clenched in agony.
"I don't want to get high." Liz insisted, squeezing her cigarette between her teeth. "I have to. Weed takes the edge off—makes it easier for me to protect my baby sister."
"Whatever." Patti shrugged, turning her now-disinterested gaze on the rusty entrance gate. 'THOMPSON' was spray-painted over the exit sign in bloated white and blue letters. "Guess you're gonna want that pipe now, huh?"
"Sure." Liz shrugged, groping around the carriage for her coat. Upon finding it, she slung it low over her shoulders and leapt from the carriage before her sister landed beside her in a crouch, eyes glittering mischievously. "Wanna head to Genie's Smoke Shop? It's kinda out of the way, but we probably have enough left to get a pipe from there—plus it's the only head shop open this late."
"Too expensive." Patti wrinkled her nose. "We needa eat in the morning, right sis?"
Liz grunted an affirmative, begrudgingly pulling the wad of bills from her shirt and counting in the low light. "I got twenty one. A little pipe will only cost seven, and I know you won't mind eating at McDonalds for breakfast."
To Liz's relief, a thrilled smile broke out over her sister's features. "If we go after ten, then we can get me a Happy Meal, hunh?!"
The elder blonde allowed a rare, soft grin to wash over her features as she secured an arm around her little sister. "Yeah, definitely."
Kid hated it.
He shook the left arm of his flawless white overcoat, as if it would help to remove the flowery stench of the girl's perfume. Why did women insist on bathing in the god-awful stuff?! Even to a human nose it would wreak, but for him it burned to inhale around her. He shuddered, thinking of the giggling mess of a girl he'd been forced to spend the evening with. She was a direct descendent of one of his father's favorite death scythes—one of the only women he'd ever worked with. According to the girl's pompous father, the family line was now renowned for the skilled scythes that they produced and were celebrated as absolute necessities to all the lower-ranking shinigami under his father's control. One of which he had become partners with and eventually married, producing an obscenely large amount of spoiled, rich scythes.
Her name was Rose and she had golden-brown eyes and pale features; her curly auburn hair was piled on top of her head in a cascading bun. Kid hated to admit it, but she was pretty—and more importantly, somehow managed to be symmetrical. Upon their introduction, he was vaguely impressed… but when she opened her mouth, all that had gone out the window.
"Ohmigawd, you must be Kid!" She'd squealed, latching to his left arm like a hungry, crazed leech. Rose had then proceeded to release the most obnoxious set of high-pitched giggles that Kid had ever heard in his fifteen years of life. His eye twitched, noting his asymmetrical state, but he forced himself to remain calm. Kid refused to let himself have a panic-attack in front of his father's esteemed family friends. "You're too cute! I don't know if you remember me, but we played together once when we were, like, four. I bit you, remember?"
'That was you?' Kid asked internally, vaguely recalling a beastly child launching herself across the restaurant to dig her teeth into his arms as his father gently pried them apart, laughing nervously about what a sweet couple they'd make when they were older. "Ah—ahah…"
"We're going to have so much fun tonight!" Rose continued, nuzzling his arm affectionately. "We'll go to my favorite restaurant with my parents and then to see a musical on Broadway and—."
Thankfully, Kid had quickly learned to tune out the girl's incessant chattering, though it continued to nag at the tip of his ears like an obnoxious bee buzzing about in an endless quest for honey; it was painful managing to politely listen and contribute to the conversation, though it soon proved to be unnecessary. Throughout the limousine ride and dinner, Kid was hardly able to get a word in edgewise between Rose's cheery verbal diarrhea and her parents throwing about words such as 'arranged marriage' and 'divine fighting pair'.
Kid would've been frightened by such proposals if they weren't the hundredth ones he'd heard in his lifetime. It would start with the usual 'oh-she's-such-a-sweet-girl-and-I-knew-or-worked-with-her-relative-so-and-so-and-you-really-need-a-weapon-Kid-just-meet-her-one-date-that's-all-I-ask-pretty-please?' and it would end with kid buckling and taking the pretty scythe on a date to listen to her parents brag about their amazing lineage.
Most of the girls acted like Rose: clingy, breathless, and excited to have a potential meister or fiancé take her out on a date. Others were less than willing and had to be dragged from their homes kicking and screaming about how unfair it was to be forced into a relationship with some gothic freak that they didn't even know. Honestly, Kid had only actually liked one of any of the girls he'd met since he was thirteen: an older, tall girl with minor OCD that seemed to think and behave on his level. The attraction had been less than sexual, however, especially when she had taken him aside halfway through the date and admitted she was a lesbian and only interested in the arranged marriage to appease her parents.
While Kid had walked away from the situation with a friend, he had no interest on taking on the girl as his weapon. Since a young age, his father had attempted to coerce him into using a scythe—the staple weapon for a shinigami—and failed miserably at doing so. There had to be balance. There had to be two. But even if it were physically possible to wield two scythes simultaneously, there was no such thing as two identical scythes… or at least none Kid had heard of. The closest he had come to discovering them was a set of young twin boys in Canada that turned into pair scythes that would've been identical if it were not for the different amount of teeth on each of their blades. Their parents absolutely refused Kid's notion of sawing off one of their son's teeth in fear that it would affect his human body as well—that and the boys' constant bickering made it nigh impossible for them to resonate with one another.
The distraction of going over each of the awful arranged dates and the blind search for symmetrical partners aided Kid throughout the majority of his date with Rose Cullings-Blair and her insufferable chattering. To her credit, however, she was blessedly silent throughout the entire performance of Les Misérables, save for her soft sobs at the end. The worst part of the evening didn't come until they stood outside the doors of her parents' penthouse suite and Rose twirled around, hooking her index fingers around Kid's. He sighed in relief at the lack of an asymmetrical arm accessory, but dread pooled in his stomach at the sight of her sultry golden-brown eyes.
"I had a great time tonight." Rose purred, a tiny grin curling onto her lips. "You?"
"I enjoyed myself." He lied, forcing a little smile. "It was a pleasure meeting you."
"You as well." Her silvery little voice tickled his ears in a way that was completely wrong as she tugged imploringly at his fingers. "I hope we can do it again sometime. Maybe even…" She leaned in dangerously close to him; eyes alight with something terrible to Kid. Her warm mint-scented breath spread over his lips. "More?"
Kid deflected her kiss with ease, turning his cheek at the last moment and cringing at the asymmetrical-ness of it all. The sacrifice was well worth it as she pulled back in almost an instant, hurt and confusion clouding her pretty features. Kid forced himself to place a chaste kiss in the center of her forehead. "Yes, we should definitely do a little something more next time. You can bring your boyfriend along, and I'll bring along mine." He lied smoothly, feeling a horrible little sense of schadenfreude at the waves of devastation crashing over her face. Playing gay was the fastest way to get out of an unwanted kiss, and he never regretted it. Word usually spread fast, and by the time he arrived home in Nevada, his father would be complaining of several families canceling dinner engagements with their daughters.
"You're…?" Whispered Rose, eyes twinkling with tears. Kid fought back a wince. She may have been annoying as hell, but she was far from a bad person and her intentions were, for the most part, good.
"It's nice to know I've made a new friend." He smiled, patting her shoulders and turning on his heel. As soon as he was out of what would be considered earshot for a human, he heard her devastated, melodramatic sobs carried throughout the long halls before the elevator doors shut before him.
And now he was traversing the streets of Brooklyn, attempting to shake off the scent of the girl who had clung to him the entire night. Somewhere amongst the constant twitters of his mind, he had become lost—not only in his thoughts, but physically as well. The surrounding neighborhood looked hardly similar to the place where his hotel was, and the abundance of mendicants and those who were most likely prostitutes eyeing him down suggested he was quite a ways away from the posh area he had originally been headed for.
"Hey sugar." A breathy voice carried over the cold air, accompanied by a steady stream of cigarette smoke. He turned on his heel to see an androgynous youth staring back at him with bright grey eyes. A platinum wig thrown haphazardly over his head and a tight vinyl miniskirt suggested that he was not attempting to pass for a man. "Anything I can help you with?"
Kid blanched, staring at the transvestite in horror before correcting his posture. "Yes, actually." He nodded. "I was actually looking for the Nu Hotel on Smith Street—."
"Well you're quite a bit lost, aren't cha?" The prostitute grinned, throwing the cigarette onto the sidewalk and grinding it out with a silver stiletto heel. "Don't worry, I'll getcha back safe and sound. All you hafta do is take a shortcut down that there alley," He gestured towards a suspiciously dark path, "And turn right. You'll get to Smith before ya know it and 'm pretty sure you can find your way from there."
"Thank you." Kid nodded hastily as he retreated. The transvestite laughed and waved him off.
"Just be careful not to stop and talk to strangers, kiddo!" He cried after him. "No tellin' what kind of Brooklyn demons you'll run into down there!"
Liz was shaking on a dumpster.
It wasn't the first time Patti had seen her do it, but Liz knew it didn't make it any less scary for her. The taller girl was huddled in on herself, hands secured around her upper arms as she was wracked with violent tremors that usually became retches. The shaking was not a side-effect of the drug, but brought on by the vomiting that was. Liz hated puking almost as much as she hated overdosing. It was obvious to see that the pot had been laced with angel dust after the first bowl Liz had smoked, but the higher she got, the less clear it became what she had actually taken into her system.
"You gonna be okay, sis?" Patti asked in a quiet tone, flinching when her sister fixed murderous eyes on her.
"Just shut up, okay?!" She snarled, dry-heaving off of the side of the dumpster. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! I shouldn't have gotten so…"
Still trembling, Liz's hand shot back into her camisole, pulling out the empty bag and throwing it on the ground before returning for her safety-pot and a square of rolling paper. Her hands were clumsy as she fought through the angel dust-induced dizziness and rolled herself a sloppy blunt.
"Sis!" Came Patti's weak protest, but she was quickly silenced at a glare from her elder sister as she lit up and inhaled the smoke.
"It's just weed." She assured her sister. "Just weed. It'll help me calm down, I think… yeah."
Patti gave a distressed little whine, but was silent nevertheless. Liz took several deep breaths, alternating between air and her blunt. The trembling slowly subsided and the younger sister released a quiet sigh of relief as she watched her sister's eyes skim the area, landing with sudden inspiration on a lone silhouette crossing under a back light.
"Wouldja look at that?" Liz mumbled, a smile curling onto her lips slowly. "Right into our pretty little paws."
Patti glanced up, a half-crazed smirk blooming over her features as well as she assessed the boy passing under the dim lights. He was young—though probably a bit older than herself—and was dressed in a cashmere white trench coat complete with black slacks and dress shoes that gleamed even in the weak light. His jet-black hair was marred by three incomplete stripes.
Liz blinked, feeling a vaguely familiar buzz of energy. She was far from a meister when it came to being able to see and sense souls and soul wavelengths; but she had picked up a great deal from wielding her sister for so long. Whims and feelings about certain souls came second-nature to her, and she instantly recognized the powerful feeling from the times she and her sister scoured the high-end of Brooklyn.
"It's a fuckin' reaper, Patti." Breathed the elder sister, beginning to shake with excitement. "Reapers… they're loaded. All of 'em. Fuckin' A."
The elder girl leapt from the dumpster, swaying in place as she struggled to keep the blunt clutched between her teeth. "Liz—." Patti started hesitantly, but held her tongue when her sister raised a single hand."
"Shut up, Patti." She mumbled. "This just might be our big break."
"Reapers… they're loaded. All of 'em. Fuckin' A."
Kid was no fool. His senses were also sharp enough to pick up the scent of humans and marijuana smoke since he had just barely entered the back alley. The girls approached him slowly, confident that his pride would not allow him to run. They were correct, but also idiots for assuming they could rob a shinigami.
"Well lookie here, Patti." Smirked the elder of the two. She was tall with long, blonde hair and donned a horrifically asymmetrical camouflage top. A light blue parka was slung onto her elbows as she walked with dizzy grace in a circle around Kid. "Richie Rich has lost his way in the back streets."
The younger of the two cackled, her wide eyes flashing dangerously as she crouched close to the ground, tapping her knees in excitement. Kid stared at them, sure to keep his expression blank and unamused. They were just another road-block in his way back to the hotel. "What should we do, sis?"
Liz grinned. "You know the drill."
There was the unmistakable flash of blue-white light as the elder of the two transformed into a handgun, gleaming silver in her sister's grasp. "Neat trick." Kid scoffed, blinking calmly. "I've seen a thousand others that can do the same thing."
The short-haired blonde released a violent cackle as the gun within her grasp laughed softly. "Please. You've seen nothin' like this."
Twin balls of light illuminated the alley, and the older girl was blocking Kid's path again, holding her sister in her grasp. Kid's golden eyes widened. The guns were flawlessly identical. Not only that, but the sisters could wield each other with great ease. It was amazing. It was… perfection.
Kid replaced the mask of indifference within a split second as the elder girl smirked and pressed the muzzle of her younger sister to his cheek, inhaling deeply from her blunt as she swayed. "So how about you empty your pockets, pretty li'l reaper, and we'll let you go without harming a hair on your perfect head?"
Kid struck too fast for Liz to react even if she hadn't been high, driving a fist into her stomach and knocking her back several paces. The blonde gave a half-swear as the breath was knocked out of her, firing several shots that whizzed by Kid harmlessly as she staggered backwards, heaving wildly.
"Little fucker!" She screamed, continuing to fire rapidly. He stepped out of the way of each shot of pink soul wavelength that lit the alley, cocking his eyebrow at the infuriated girl.
"You finished?" He inquired calmly, adjusting the lapels on his coat. The girl wavered on the spot, eyes swimming in and out of focus as she fell to her knees and gave a horrible wretch, causing kid to step back as her sister clattered to the ground.
The stench of vomit reached Kid quickly and he covered his mouth and nose with both hands as the girl heaved and trembled and fell to one side. The alley was silent for a good several seconds before the gun at her side burst into light and became the smaller blonde, her sister. Trembling hands grasped the still girl's shoulders, shaking her desperately.
"LIZ!" Cried the smaller of the two, the horror evident in her voice. "Liz! Wake up!"
Kid stared, uncertain of what he had just seen as the smaller of the two turned her horrified blue eyes towards him. They were swelling with tears by the second, and were locked onto his imploringly. He wondered if it were a trick to get him to approach to help in order for the elder girl to land a shot; but the very real terror in the younger girl's eyes and the vomit on the pavement told another story.
"Liz… Lizzy…" The younger of the two whispered, continuing to shake her sister's shoulders. "Please wake up, Liz… please? Who's gonna protect me from Daddy…?" Her voice cracked brokenly and Kid's eyes widened a fraction at the dark implications behind the statement. The girl seized with sudden horror and began to shake her sister even harder. "LIZ! FUCKIN' WAKE UP! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME! Please… don't go now." She whispered the later, curling around her sister's frame as her pleading eyes traveled back to Kid's aureate. There was nothing said between them; just the echo of the smaller blonde's pleas as she cried and trembled, pulling her sister to her chest.
And in that dark alley that smelled of vomit and drugs and garbage, Kid made a decision.
For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, Liz awoke in a warm bed. It smelled faintly of fabric softener and something sweet. Her eyes fluttered open as she sat up and realized that she was in a blessedly comfortable bed—not a creaky mattress in a motel room she'd managed to rent for herself and her sister. Pale morning light streamed in from tall windows that spread nearly floor-to-ceiling, illuminating the white décor of the classy hotel room. Beside her, Patti was sleeping peacefully beneath the light covers, a cat-like grin on her lips; and several feet away from her, curled in a black armchair, was the reaper.
Liz scanned the small room, her head spinning in confusion. Her body was still prickling with the aftereffects of the angel dust, and she was unsure if what she was experiencing was a hallucination. But the bed was too soft, the smells to gentle and real, and the sleeping boy's soft snores all too genuine to be a hallucination. Hallucinations were freakish, twisted visions of the world around her with all the stuff of nightmares leaking in. This was far too genuine to have come from the dark corners of her mind.
Her eyes floated to where her coat was folded perfectly upon the desk. Her boots were set out juxtapose to the chair, Patti's smaller ones set out on either side. Realization blossomed in her mind. This was the reaper's hotel room—his bed she and her sister were sharing. He had probably folded her coat and set out their boots in that odd matter. Liz pushed back the covers, realizing with horror that she was only wearing a bra and jeans. With a soft squeak, she covered herself, blushing brightly as she realized the reaper was staring at her with calm golden eyes.
"We had to take it off to clean it." He explained. "There was vomit on it, so it had to be washed."
"A-ah…" Liz nodded stiffly, feeling her cheeks burn. "Thanks."
"Don't worry, I didn't look." He said offhandedly. "Even so, they're just breasts."
Liz stared at him for a long moment, contemplating if she should hit him or thank him for his seemingly-immaculate kindness. The boy seemed nearly asexual with his impartial gaze, which he slowly averted, fixing it on the window as he parted his lips into a yawn. "If you'd like a bath or a shower, by all means, help yourself." He instructed, gesturing towards the bathroom. Liz nodded and crossed the room, watching the reaper closely as he pulled a book off of the desk and began to thumb through the pages casually. After scrubbing herself clean, she pulled on the soft complimentary robe hanging in the bathroom and combed the knots out of her hair, still numb with disbelief as she entered the room once more.
Patti was sitting cross-legged on the bed, cheerfully chatting away with the reaper as if they hadn't tried to rob them the night before. He fixed a tired smile on the blonde as Patti leapt to her feet and bounced in place.
"Sis!" She shrieked. "Sis! This is Death the Kid! He's a shiny-gami!"
"Shinigami." Kid corrected, slightly frustrated. "It's more or less the word for reaper in Japanese."
"That's an odd name." Liz remarked, sitting on the bed as she folded her clothes in her lap. Patti plopped down beside her, giggling manically.
"It's a nick-name, actually." He admitted with an indifferent shrug. "Very few know my true name for security purposes. Most just call me 'Kid', though."
"I'm Liz Thompson; Elizabeth, actually." She explained before gesturing towards Patti. "This is my little sister, Patricia—."
"Just call me Patti!" The girl cheered, hopping up onto the bed before bouncing several times.
"D-don't do that!" Kid cried, bolting upright and over to the sheets, which he began to tug at desperately. "You've already messed it all up! I had the sheets perfectly symmetrical."
"Oooooh, sowwy!" Patti giggled, flinging herself off of the bed and skipping towards the bathroom. "I'm gonna take a shower, okie dokie day?"
Before either her sister or Kid could reply, the door slammed behind her, leaving Liz in silence with the odd-mannered reaper. Kid heaved a sigh and took to his feet, collecting the book from before off of the desk.
"Uhm—." Liz was abruptly cut off as there was a light tap at the door.
"Room service?" An accented voice chimed and Kid took to his feet, thanking the maid at the door quietly as he accepted the freshly laundered camisole and handed it to Liz.
"Thanks." She mumbled as he turned on his heel. For a moment she wondered what he was doing as he fixed his eyes on the wall, folding his arms behind his back and clearing his throat. With a start, Liz realized he was averting his eyes so she could change. Rapidly, she stripped of the bath robe and pulled the shirt on over her bra, yanking her belt into place.
"Miss Thompson?" The boy inquired, finally turning on his heel as soon as Liz was finished.
"It's okay, you can call my Liz." She corrected, sheepishly scratching at the back of her damp tresses.
"Liz." Kid nodded, correcting himself. "I… ah. I was wondering—."
"If you're going to ask me out, don't bother." Liz scoffed, resting her elbow on her knee and chin in her palm. "I'm not really a settle-down type of girl, and besides—I think you're a bit out of my social range."
"No!" He started, grasping his hands earnestly before him. "It… this is going to sound like an odd request, but…"
"May I brush your hair?" He blurted out, golden eyes dashing away in embarrassment. Liz blinked several times in amazement as the younger boy struggled to fight back a blush before she burst into amused laughter.
"Brush my hair?" Liz snorted. "Seriously?! You give us a room and a shower and—and all you want in return is to brush my hair?!"
"N-no!" Kid stammered, slamming his hands on his hips and continuing to turn an array of pink and red colors. "I—."
"No." Liz shook her head, still smirking as the laughter died in her chest. "No, no. It's just that I expected you to want something big in return."
"I do have a proposal." He said stiffly, picking up the hairbrush and gesturing towards the seat before the desk with a mirror hanging above it. "But you don't have to accept it. Will you sit?"
Liz grinned and pushed herself off of the bed. "I'll humor you. 'Sides, I don't think anyone's brushed my hair since my mom died."
"Your mother passed away?" Kid inquired, brushing her damp bangs back. Liz shifted awkwardly, folding her arms over her chest in a way that made the strange boy's eye twitch.
"I don't like to talk about it." She mumbled, averting her eyes from the reaper's reflection. To her surprise, he pressed no further, only continued to comb through her hair, alternating between the tips of his fingers and the brush. Just as he finally reconstructed her part for the eighth time, he paused, golden eyes falling to the floor.
"My mother died as well. I was very small." He confessed. Liz turned to him in shock.
"Yes." Kid nodded. "I don't remember much of her, nor do I know how she died." He pursed his lips. "But ever since then my father has tried to erase every notion of her ever existing. I have no pictures or other mementos of her other than what little clothing I could salvage from their closet."
Liz frowned, her fingers flying to her pocket of her parka where she kept the picture of herself, her sister and her mother rolled into a tight tube. "Nothing, hunh?"
"That'd be pretty horrible." The blonde continued as Kid resumed brushing her hair. "I mean, Mom meant the world to us. When our dad walked out on us, I was just seven and Patti was only four. Our mom did everything she could to keep us fed and clothed… even married a guy whose guts she hated."
Kid stiffened, his grip tightening around the hairbrush. "Your sister said something about your father hurting you without you there."
Suddenly, Liz was on her feet, whirling around and grabbing Kid by the collar of his white dress shirt. "Don't you ever bring that up, you got it?!" She snarled, giving him a firm shake. "'Specially not in front of Patti. You never heard what she said, understand?"
"I understand." Kid said calmly, gently removing Liz's hands from the front of his shirt with surprising ease. "I can tell it's a sore subject, and I thank you for opening up to me."
Liz scoffed, retracting her arms and throwing herself back into the seat. "Whatever."
Just as Kid was about to make another comment, the door to the bathroom was thrown open, and Patti pranced out, sopping wet and wrapped in nothing but an oversized towel.
Author's Notes: Why hello there everyone! Chocolate Moosey (formerly known as Chocolate Wolfie) here with another Soul Eater fanfiction! This one was originally supposed to only be a oneshot, but lo and behold, it got blown into a bit bigger propotion than that. I'm not sure how long its going to be; but the story will be at least six or seven chapters of this length. I Have about three and a half more written, and I'll try to have them edited and posted every weekend.
As for notes on the actual story, this started on a whim over Christmas break and was fueled by my general insanity and passion for writing to become something of a much greater calliber. I really love Kid, Liz, and Patti and I wanted to play with the dynamics between the three and how they shift over time- as well as how my use of point of view can reflect that. I also wanted, more than anything, to portray them as a family, which I hope I captured.
Also, the pacing for this story will be a bit rocky in the middle- things will jump around a bit. I'll try to keep a date assigned to each time-jump to make things easier on the readers, if you're confused. Just to let you know, this part of the story takes place October 2007. Please forgive me for the strange jumps in time to come, as well the a very gentle use of several OC's who will not be part of the main story, but used to make the character's motives and actions clear.
Last but not least, please remember to enjoy! I write not only for my own enjoyment, but to bring smiles to other's faces. Much love, you guys!