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After several minutes, he set the book aside, muttering something like “matches with the legend…” and pulled another book of a shelf. His room was like a library, bookshelves lining the walls, each filled with books, ranging from scrapped, falling apart to new, untouched looking. He cracked open the book, and dragged his finger along the page, searching for something, all the while muttering to himself. “Doesn’t make sense…mistranslations…not quite like that…”

There was a knock on his door, interrupting his train of thought. “Come in…” the knob shifted, and a boy completely identical to Thrash walked in. His twin brother, Flail. Thrash felt some hostility. His brother was not his favorite person. “What?”

“Hey, bro-“ He began, but Thrash cut him off.

“You brought a girl home, and you want me to leave so you can have he house for yourselves. I told you I needed to do some research tonight.” This was routine for him. Flail brought home either a girl or a boy, and slept with them. Thrash usually left, not wanting to hear them moaning while he was trying to sleep or read.

“It’s a guy today, and a hot one.” A lecherous grin broke out on his face. “and he gets to spend the night with me, lucky him. Hope he likes it rough…”

“You b*****d. Fine, I’ll leave then. But you owe me for this.” He said, spitting venom at his brother with his eyes. He shoved Flail out of the room and changed his clothing, then left his room, walking down the stairs slowly. Flail was at the bottom, looking at him.

“Try not to scare the guy.”

“Me scare him? You would scare him, the way you always try to get into their pants before you even get them here. It’s even worse when you don’t let them know what’s going on. You didn’t bring a clueless did you?” “clueless” meaning that the person was brought here without knowing what was coming.

“No, not this time.”

Thrash sighed. “whatever.” And left. He would not be returning home that night.

~ ~ ~

“Stupid brother…” Thrash said to himself. He was out of the house once again, thanks to his brothers insatiable appetite for sex. How annoying. Thrash himself had no interest in such things. He was how old? 20? And no interest, none at all,. There had never been any. He went through his adolescent years not caring about anything. He went through most of his life not caring. He had always been like that.

He sighed, feeling a cool breeze start up, making its way through the dead branches of the trees, not stopping for him, for anything. Everything was merely a small obstacle to the wind, as it was to him. He had managed to gain much power in the past 6 years of his life, making him seen unbeatable. His emotionless response to everything made others nervous, afraid. He seemed like the perfect hunter.

Everything must have a weakness, but he didn’t seem to. He couldn’t even pick one out of himself. He knew there was one in there somewhere, nothing, no one, was perfect. He continued on, thinking about what he had been reading, reciting lines to the moon, who listened quietly and patiently.

“But it wasn’t right, that book….it had mistranslations…part of the legend was completely off. No one can translate properly these days….” Thrash knew how to speak, read and write may different languages, ancient and modern. He had no problems in the days when he had been stuck in school. He had always been smarter than the rest, and they didn’t like him for it.



((A long entry, this one, but it had to end here, even if I don't like where it ended. the next entry is a look into Thrash's past. Excited? Nervous? Need a cookie? However you're feeling, you must wait...))