![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apositi posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
mindcrackloveHello there, I’m apositi, otherwise known IRL as Aleks. I actually joined a while back but didn’t have the time to introduce myself, which I realize isn’t required but it couldn’t hurt to do so. After sleeping off much of the first day of Thanksgiving break, I decided that it was better late than never, so here I am.
I was introduced to the Mindcrackers by the way of Etho and GenerikB. I adore Team Canada and the B-Team, as well as Vechs and Zisteau. I became aware of Salad before it was even called Salad, but I made the unfortunate mistake of only vaguely entertaining the idea of joining. (It was for a good reason, I swear, I’m taking AP classes.) I created my account after I realized I was lurking way too much on here, and I’ll start writing as soon as I get rid of my writer’s block and my piles of homework!
…and begin horrible rough draft!
It was a terribly rainy day.
A little blonde boy stared out at the window, a frown settling in. Nine year-old Zisteau had always had an affinity for heat, preferring instead the Nether and its inhabitants, even if most of them did tend to attack with fire. But above all this, Zisteau just hated the cold, the cloudy and grey nonsense covering up the warm sun, rain pecking at the ground. With a sigh, he continued to stare at the rain moodily and with a listlessness known only to children.
And, to his bemusement, caught sight of another little boy just like him walking outside in the stormy weather. His head down and a bag dragging along beside him, the boy looked awfully strange, especially with an all-too large helmet perched upon his head.
“Mam, there’s a kid outside!” Zisteau called insistently over his shoulder. “Mam, a boy like me! Outside! What’s he doin’, is he crazy? The rain is terrible!”
His mother entered his room, her lips poised to ask what her son was going on about. At least he didn’t demand to play in the rain, like all of the neighborhood mothers had complained about. Zisteau was quiet and polite, enough that it was rather scary considering his age. But then, like her son, she realized that the boy might not be quite so ordinary.
“Ah, dear Notch,” she said, concerned. “Alright, darlin,’ why don’t we say hi? He doesn’t seem to be from around here, and the rain out there is terrible.” She hurried out, her dress swishing by around her.
“But Mam! We don’t know him!” Zisteau exclaimed, running after her. Midway through his chase, he came to the realisation that perhaps, the kid hates the rain, too. “The umbrella, Mam!”
The boy was crying. His mother approached the strange boy slowly and calmly, trying to make sure he didn’t run. Though at that state, Zisteau thought, the boy probably wouldn’t be able to run very far. He looked pretty weak and beaten, the nine-year old observed. He held out the umbrella high above his mother, who had bent down slightly to face the boy.
“Hey there, little one,” she greeted him. “Are you lost?”
The boy sniffled. “My daddy! He’s gone!”
Almost in synchronicity, Zisteau and his mother looked at each other, then around. There had been reports of the Corrupts around, creatures that rose from the ground and stalked an entire town before attacking. It was considered mythical in the cities of a country, but any of those who dared venture farther than what had been established came back with not only riches but stories of horror.
“What do you mean, gone?”
“He was taken away by an Enderman!” The child sobbed. “We were resting from the rain because we were from another town.” Zisteau’s mother is taken aback and shocked, and the owner of the too-big iron helmet resting on the boy’s head comes to him. “I, I hid! He wasn’t able to.”
The boy was lucky he hadn’t met any of the other Corrupts.
“Would you like to come in for shelter?” She knew she was taking a gamble, that if the child was being hunted, perhaps the entire town could be swarmed. She didn’t care, though. “Come, or you’ll catch yourself a case of pneumonia.”
The boy collapsed before he could reply.
“So!” Zisteau was sitting opposite of the boy, his hair damp from being outside. The boy had woken up a minute after they’d brought him in and sat him down in front of the fire. Zisteau’s mother handed him some of the old clothes her son outgrown, and the boy changed in their bathroom and came back to sit in front of the fire.
“What’s your name?” Zisteau prodded, squinting at the boy.
Surprised, the boy stared at him. “Vechs,” he said finally. “Where’s that lady?”
“She’s my mam. I’m Zisteau.”
“Funny name you’ve got,” observed Vechs.
“Look who’s talkin’. It’s my grandad's name.” Zisteau looked at him in wonder. “Where’d you come from, eh, Vechs?” He folded his arms across his chest, leaning back on the chair, serious as a nine year-old could manage.
“I don’t know.”
I was introduced to the Mindcrackers by the way of Etho and GenerikB. I adore Team Canada and the B-Team, as well as Vechs and Zisteau. I became aware of Salad before it was even called Salad, but I made the unfortunate mistake of only vaguely entertaining the idea of joining. (It was for a good reason, I swear, I’m taking AP classes.) I created my account after I realized I was lurking way too much on here, and I’ll start writing as soon as I get rid of my writer’s block and my piles of homework!
…and begin horrible rough draft!
It was a terribly rainy day.
A little blonde boy stared out at the window, a frown settling in. Nine year-old Zisteau had always had an affinity for heat, preferring instead the Nether and its inhabitants, even if most of them did tend to attack with fire. But above all this, Zisteau just hated the cold, the cloudy and grey nonsense covering up the warm sun, rain pecking at the ground. With a sigh, he continued to stare at the rain moodily and with a listlessness known only to children.
And, to his bemusement, caught sight of another little boy just like him walking outside in the stormy weather. His head down and a bag dragging along beside him, the boy looked awfully strange, especially with an all-too large helmet perched upon his head.
“Mam, there’s a kid outside!” Zisteau called insistently over his shoulder. “Mam, a boy like me! Outside! What’s he doin’, is he crazy? The rain is terrible!”
His mother entered his room, her lips poised to ask what her son was going on about. At least he didn’t demand to play in the rain, like all of the neighborhood mothers had complained about. Zisteau was quiet and polite, enough that it was rather scary considering his age. But then, like her son, she realized that the boy might not be quite so ordinary.
“Ah, dear Notch,” she said, concerned. “Alright, darlin,’ why don’t we say hi? He doesn’t seem to be from around here, and the rain out there is terrible.” She hurried out, her dress swishing by around her.
“But Mam! We don’t know him!” Zisteau exclaimed, running after her. Midway through his chase, he came to the realisation that perhaps, the kid hates the rain, too. “The umbrella, Mam!”
The boy was crying. His mother approached the strange boy slowly and calmly, trying to make sure he didn’t run. Though at that state, Zisteau thought, the boy probably wouldn’t be able to run very far. He looked pretty weak and beaten, the nine-year old observed. He held out the umbrella high above his mother, who had bent down slightly to face the boy.
“Hey there, little one,” she greeted him. “Are you lost?”
The boy sniffled. “My daddy! He’s gone!”
Almost in synchronicity, Zisteau and his mother looked at each other, then around. There had been reports of the Corrupts around, creatures that rose from the ground and stalked an entire town before attacking. It was considered mythical in the cities of a country, but any of those who dared venture farther than what had been established came back with not only riches but stories of horror.
“What do you mean, gone?”
“He was taken away by an Enderman!” The child sobbed. “We were resting from the rain because we were from another town.” Zisteau’s mother is taken aback and shocked, and the owner of the too-big iron helmet resting on the boy’s head comes to him. “I, I hid! He wasn’t able to.”
The boy was lucky he hadn’t met any of the other Corrupts.
“Would you like to come in for shelter?” She knew she was taking a gamble, that if the child was being hunted, perhaps the entire town could be swarmed. She didn’t care, though. “Come, or you’ll catch yourself a case of pneumonia.”
The boy collapsed before he could reply.
“So!” Zisteau was sitting opposite of the boy, his hair damp from being outside. The boy had woken up a minute after they’d brought him in and sat him down in front of the fire. Zisteau’s mother handed him some of the old clothes her son outgrown, and the boy changed in their bathroom and came back to sit in front of the fire.
“What’s your name?” Zisteau prodded, squinting at the boy.
Surprised, the boy stared at him. “Vechs,” he said finally. “Where’s that lady?”
“She’s my mam. I’m Zisteau.”
“Funny name you’ve got,” observed Vechs.
“Look who’s talkin’. It’s my grandad's name.” Zisteau looked at him in wonder. “Where’d you come from, eh, Vechs?” He folded his arms across his chest, leaning back on the chair, serious as a nine year-old could manage.
“I don’t know.”
no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 03:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 08:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 10:31 pm (UTC)Okay, lurker leaving now.. >.<
no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 10:40 pm (UTC)Not useless info, this actually lends a different feel to the story now for me. Now I'm getting an Irish town stuck in my head as a setting instead! I like studying regional differences in culture and linguistics has been a strong interest for me in the last year. I didn't realize the Irish preferred "Mam." Thanks. :)
no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 03:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 03:21 am (UTC)OHMYGOSH so cute! I love little Zisteau and Vechs. <3 This is also a really interesting concept. I like.
BEAT YOU BECA HAH!
Just as a precaution, are you a guy or a girl? Don't want to get mixed up. :D
no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 03:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 03:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 08:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 03:40 am (UTC)Hehe 9 year old Zisteau is so cute! And then trying to be serious! ;)
no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 08:19 am (UTC)SHUSH NO ONE MUST KNOW I’M PLANNING TO WRITE THIS-
no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 08:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 09:00 am (UTC)But honestly, I wish I had the skills to draw what I’m seeing. Stupid art skills only applying to scenery and typography. :|
no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 05:41 am (UTC)And, your fanfic has gotten my attention completely. Could you continue? Please?
no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 08:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 01:17 pm (UTC)Kiddie Mindcrackers are always so adorable, yours are no exception <3
no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 10:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 05:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, November 24th, 2013 10:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Monday, November 25th, 2013 02:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Monday, November 25th, 2013 05:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Monday, November 25th, 2013 03:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Monday, November 25th, 2013 05:24 am (UTC)