All That Glitters Gold...

[silverdust]

It was bare, that was to be expected, but even so stripped it was still much a sight better than his old quarters. And it was large, prefect to accomodate his treasures, and allow him room to expand. The Greed sparked like a golden gleam in the blank eyes. He stepped inside the room, running a hand over the polished writing desk absently as he surveyed the height and width, calculating the mass of gold that it could fit per every square inch of volume.

He looked to the door, nodding in approval, the slight impression of a smile on his features. Possibly the closest expression of contentment he could mention. "It is certainly more than adequate. I will have to thank Lord Jiarokumo when I encounter him."

His eyes flicked to the hall. Not needing command, Xavídje entered the room, his tread still steady, but a barely perceptible tremble of the shoulders beneath the black cloak. The golden menagerie followed him, their spinning dance slowed. The boy knew well enough his father's wishes, and the treasures were set down gently. A few flicks and flashes of the treasure and everything was as it had been in the old theatre, the piles sorted immaculately by Xavídje's unseen force.

Ja'mediahs gave another approving nod, twirling the velvet bag he still carried about his wrist. He walked over to one of the piles, drawing out three long chain necklaces, dripping in teardrop jewels. With a bitter grin, he tossed them to his child, watching as they froze and manipulated themselves into serpentine strands about his shoulders. "Be sure to give those to her, so she will know."

If the boy knew what the words meant, there was no indication. He merely turned and walked back through the hallways, careful to stick to the shadows where he would not be seen. He walked with such regality, it seemed forced. Ja'mediahs turned his attention to the Puppet. "You have done your job well."

It was as high a compliment as he might give. He was not one for gratitude anyhow.


"Jirisen."



She stood at the doorframe, her fingers glancing against the gold as Ja'mediahs's had. She was in anthro-form, her body bare and lithe, the tension of a hunter constant and evident. Her mouth and the four hands were smeared with blood, both dry and wet. Her chest and legs were spattered with the stuff, almost blending with her erratic scarlet markings. One of the hands was clasped around a grisly parcel, still dripping steadily upon the floor. Food for the children, wrapped in a bag of ripped skin.

Another of the arms crossed her chest, clasping its twin in an almost girlish motion. The chorus of the voices in her head was starting their whispers. The eyes, blank, settled on the wandering cub. "Jirisen, where is your fa-...the mean one?"

It wasn't that she loved her children, but she knew him. She cared for them because she had nothing better to do, and they must live because they were her legacy. And because bitter children were not enemies she wished to deal with. So she hunted for them, when they needed it. And she learned how to speak to this one, his affliction being hers a hundred times over.

'You know where he is, don't you?' 'Why do you ask the boy? You have nothing to hope for, you know, you know.' 'If the gold is gone, so is he.' 'It wasn't you...it wasn't you...' 'Don't give her false hope, she knows well enough, don't you?'

"Just shut up," her voice coming in a growl like torn silk. She fixed her eyes on Jirisen, trying to ignore the crescendo growing in her head.

"What happened to the mean one, Jirisen?" And why should I care...?

[Vyn]

Siake leaned against the door frame, arms folded to rest her head against it. She might've made a lovely Marionette, had she the rank for it. Instead she was a lovely Puppet, but she was happy with her life. Most Puppets were not given to such grandiose things.

Nevertheless, she watched her new Director with fascination and amusement. Jiarokumo would be delighted to know he had chosen well.

The flash and sparkle of gold stole the Greed Puppet's attention, and for a moment she was simply transfixed by the dance and gleam of Ja'mediahs' treasures sorting themselves about the room under his son's silent force. So impressive...so appealing. Smiling slightly, she pressed her attention away from the treasures and upon Ja'mediahs as he tossed the trinkets to his son, but she remained silent. She only really needed something to focus her mind upon that would not allow her greed to manifest more clearly.

When Ja'mediahs' attention was upon her once more, Siake stepped back from the door frame to face him again. Ignoring the gleam of gold in favor of his words, Siake allowed a faint flush to touch her gold feathered cheeks.

"Thank you, m'lord." She chimed sweetly in response, giving a small curtsy to show her pleasure and her gratitude. When she had once again straightened to her full height, as petite as that might've been, she spoke once more. "Is there anything else you need of me?"


Jirisen poked his head out form underneath the bed, his four ears perked and his tails twitching with interest. However, it was not the sound of his mother's voice which had roused this interested. "Food." He murmured pleasantly, the dullness of mind apparent in his childlike voice.

She was talking to him, but his vacant eyes were fixated on the smell of flesh. He was hungry, why was she speaking and not giving it to him. The bebe nearly growled, but the voices silenced him. Jiri submitted without fight, he would have to answer to be fed...as much as that irked him, he had no choice but to obey.

"The mean one is gone." He flopped onto his rear, brushing his mother with a large, clumsy paw. "Brother will come back to Jiri soon." His tails twitched, ears leaned forward. "Told me be patient." He sneered and then shook his head, gazing up at his mother with hunger in his eyes. "Food now?"

Soft, comforting voices purred through his mind. Sympathetic for his hunger, pleased that he had spoken instead of lunged for his meal. Jiri liked it when they were pleased with him, and his canine tails set to wagging while the lion tail remained motionless in exception for the irritated twitch that touched the tip upon occasion.

[silverdust]

The Greed's fixation with his treasure's motion was to be expected, he knew the feel well enough. That she did nothing to act upon also showed a discipline that he had found in few, let alone lowly Puppets. No wonder Jiarokumo had accepted her. She might've been promoted a rank or two. He favored Puppets over Marionettes for the most part, for him it was rare to find a Marionette with the regality and cool intelligence of Siyaebi. For the most part they seemed to be petulant, flighty things, too caught up in their own games to really suit his purposes.

"There is nothing further, no."

He turned again to survey the piles, but monitored her carefully from the corner of his eye. She was an obedient Puppet, yes, but the Greed's pull didn't allow him to relax when her eyes coveted so. Still, she had been useful, not to mention she was part of the cast he was now technically directing. His hand flicked to one of the smaller piles and took a thin band, a bangle woven of two conflicting shades of gold twined about each other and riveted with tiny elaborations. He weighed it in his hand thoughtfully, then tossed it to the Puppet, trusting she would catch it. It was not a rare piece in the least, or he would never have surrendered it. He knew where to find others, and the next excursion he would be sure to replace it.

"For your services," he said offhandedly, once again surveying the room. "You may go now."


Gone where?! she wanted to scream, to pick up the boy and shake him, batter some sense into him. But she knew well enough no more answers would come from that shattered child. She would have to wait for the return of the strange one, Xavídje, the one who took after...him. He was the only one who could give her the straight answers.

'Look how in denial she is, for gods' sake you already know!' 'Don't be so hard on her, it was a miracle we even got laid in the first place.' 'Look doll, another theatre, he's gone, for good. Forget him, move on.' 'As if, you know how she is...'

And just to spite them, she was not going to admit it until the words came from the other boy. She was tempted to drop the bleeding sack right in the middle of that (bare, so so empty) expensive Persian rug and ruin it forever as the child fed, but years of 'conditioning' under the Director's cruelty prevented her. She flung the sack onto the hardwood, pressing the bloodstained fingertips against her temples, trying to soothe away the voices with the cool wetness.

"There, eat." Another hand waved at the chaos of red and browns, various organs and the torn remnants of a shapely calf. The pearl eyes flicked sideways to the shadows of the hall, watching for her absent son.


Xavídje barely made it out the theatre and into the nearest alleyway before he staggered, near crashing into the wall for support. Every thought, every step and flash of light and color sent hot rents of pain through his strained mind. Already his filter was failing, the stray thoughts from all around him pounding into his brain like wave after wave of agony. He leaned against the wall, biting back the moans of pain that clawed at his throat. He wouldn't show weakness, not even to himself.

One step at a time, just concentrate on that much. The way home might take him ages, but like hell would he falter. The light necklaces about his thin shoulders felt like dragging chains, the gentle chime of their seedling jewels like a crescendo of drumbeats through his skull. Esper'kaebiä. Where was she? Of all the times her flimsy, spectral presence suffocated him, now she hadn't come. Why? Oh yes, he had told her to avoid him tonight. Shit.

Just one step at a time, that was all he could allow himself to think of.

[Vyn]

Siake could do nothing but feast upon the sight of that glistening treasure which now rested silently in Ja'mediahs' quarters. It was not hers to touch, to caress, and so she would squash her tempation, she would not enter his quarters and make a fool of herself. She refused to.

With a short nod, Siake watched him in silence, following his movement as he surveyed his treasures, quite aware that his gaze never truly left her. His distrust didn't bother her, it was just another aspect of Greed. One that she knew well.

The next second would become something of a blurr in her later memories, dominanted by the glisten of gold and the realization that she had snatched something from the air before actually realizing that she had moved. In her slender hands was the lovely two-toned golden band and Siake clung to it in a tender but protective way before her attention flicked upward and onto the Director.

"Thank you, Sir." She dipped her head low, her whole frame sliding into a respectful curtsy for the Director before her. She would not forget his kindness to her. Slowly Siake took a step back, nodding to the canine as she uttered the last of Jiaro's orders. "Jiaro wished me to tell you that the Theatre and it's grounds are yours to explore. There is no room offlimit to you, except for the Lord's quarters."

She had only gone a few steps before she tilted her hollow gaze over her shoulder and smiled softly. "If you are ever in need of assistance: My quarters are down the hall, but you need only call." This was not an order of hers, but an offer. Siake would not think twice of giving her assistance to her Director.


Jiri was oblivious. Oblvious of his mother, of her mental distress and of her inner war with the various voices of her inner world. If he hadn't been born at such a mental disadvantage he might've comforted her anguish. Instead he stared mindlessly at the makeshift bag of innards and flesh. He wanted to eat, and he could care about nothing else until he had eaten.

As he stared at her he wondered again and again, why doesn't she let it go? Why doesn't she feed me? I am starving. His simple inner thoughts accompanied by the growing roar of impatient gray voices. A cacophony of formless voices and words Jiri could not discern.

Finally. Finally it fell before him and Jiri staggered to his paws, lunging forward with brutal hunger in the manner of a zombie lunging for the skull of a foolish human.

Within moments the food was gone, midlessly scarfed by the hungry Puppet. For a moment he stood there, licking the wooden floor in pursuit of missed pieces until at last he looked up with a plaitive look in his listless eyes. The voices had reminded him of the true thing he wanted, and it was no longer food. "Brother is gone too long. Jiri find him?"

Jiri didn't know how long 'too long' was, all he knew was that Xavídje was not there now and he had finished eating. It didn't make sense, not much ever did, but he knew one thing: Xavídje should be back by now and he would have to find him soon.

[silverdust]

A brusque nod to acknowledge the offer. Something inside his smiled though it did not show upon his features. The gift was not one of kindness, his heart was consumed only by its lust for gold. Those around him were pawns or pieces upon a chessboard, he moved as he saw fit to further his own desires. To run a cast, one would need some degree of loyalty. It was far more difficult to run one on intimidation and cruelty alone, and he had not the power as Jiaro did to enforce his will so strongly. If one's loyalty could be bought, however, it was far simpler. The Greed had been easy, the gold lust obvious because he knew it of his own. The others...he would have to observe them for himself. Jiarokumo's offer, then, was highly valuable to him.

He turned and strode out of the door, closing it behind him. He didn't know if it would lock or not, he had been given no key, but he trusted enough that the females of Jiaro's cast would not snoop around in places they did not belong. Besides, he would know if one came in and tampered with his treasure, so precise was his memory, sharpened by Greed. He would be able to track it down, and then there would be hell to pay. With a last flick back to the door, he started down the shadowed corridor.


The boy ate ravenously, almost as violently as she hunted. She knew she shouldn't be watching him, it only fostered affections and she wouldn't stand for that to happen. Look what happened the last time...

No. No, she never felt anything toward him, anything like that. He was everything she had (wanted) hated, and she just needed to know that he was finally gone. So she could forget, despise his memory in peace without those ivory eyes always upon her. Always judging, always disgusted. Damn him.

...the boy is talking to you...

Head snapped up, fingers leaving angry red dashes across her forehead. She honestly didn't know how long the other boy had been gone for, but trusted the bond between the children well enough. Seeing as her and their father never showed any blatant shred of parental emotion, the two had probably learned to seek that care of each other.

"Go then, find him, quickly."

It wasn't as if some little part of her heart felt the pain or need of her other son and hastened her command. No, it was a purely selfish reason. He was the only one who was lucid enough to give her closure, and she needed that finality. A mother's love had never in anyway been a part of her.

[Vyn]

Jirisen grinned with wild delight, his inner insanity flashing onto his youthful muzzle. "Quick. Jiri be very quick." He growled the words out in extreme pleasure, delighted by the prospects of finding his beloved brother. They had been apart for too long, too long. That thought upset him greatly, the prospect that his Xavídje was missing seemed to tear open a pit in his once stuffed belly.

Without pause, Jirisen rose to his paws and dashed out passed his mother. Oddly enough, despite his mental retardination, Xavi was still in full possession of his physical body. He was powerful and sleek and could move quite well, if only he had a mind to accompany his physical prowess.

Bursting from the threatre, four legs moving fluidly over the cobblestones while his underdeveloped fifth paw hung uselessly at his side. Two sets of canine-like tails wagged in delight of the scents and smells, eager to be rushing around in this big world, while his lion's tail remained perked and poised; thoughtful and cautious.

Out here, there were so many things to distract Jirisen and he constantly found himself twisting toward one loud sound or a particularily interesting scent, only to be set straight by the voices once more. His sensitive nose brushed the stones beneath him, seeking the comfortingly familiar scent as he plunged through the darkened night.

Abruptly Jirisen stopped, the thoughtless motion causing him to topple over into a heap of white and red. Shaking himself off, Jirisen climbed back to his paws, gazing around wildly. He could smell his brother heavily, but the shadows were thick and his mind could not pull the shapes out clearly. However, he knew his brother belonged to those shadows, Brother always did. He kept to them like they were his friends, regardless of how difficult it was for Jirisen to decipher him from the other senseless shapes moving within the dark.

And then he found it, the sillohette of movement and he let out a canid bark of delight. "Brother! Jiri here!" Traipsing forward like a common canine looking for his bone, Jirisen moved quietly to his brother's side, peering up at the cloaked figure with adoring orbs.

[silverdust]

Xavidje felt Jiri far before he could see him. He doubted he could make him out anyways, with black and red explosions that marred his sight every time he took a step. The bark affirmed his brother's presence, sending a veritable thunderbolt of pain thorugh his mind. A migraine multiplied a thousandfold it seemed. He cursed lightly.

<Jirisen...> the words flashed like brands in his mind but he managed them. He knew well that Jiri struggled with spoken words. <I am...sorry for being gone so long.>

He faltered, the strain burning even to the back of his eyes. As far as he could disguise his weakness, there were limits and he was still, no matter how he denied, a child. He hissed as he staggered to his knees, and a nearby box suddenly crushed in upon itself. That was not good, if his mind was randomly sending off its powers to relieve itself. He would need all his concentration to direct it away from his twin.

<Jiri,> and the words were rushed because he couldn't distract himself much longer. <I might need you to carry me.>

Mire a foot or so behind the canine suddenly cascaded into the air, as if a bomb had been triggered in it. Too colse for comfort as far as he was concerned. Damn you Ja'mediahs, damn you, and I had finally thought you left off tormenting us. Now you carry on though me...

[Vyn]

Jirisen may lack the ability to reason properly, but he saved what little he did have for his brother's sake. Even he was aware of his brother's physical limitations although he could never dream of understanding the things Xavídje could conceive with his mind. Nevertheless, the familiar voice in his mind instantly soothed Jirisen and he wagged his canine tails in sweet affection.

In soft pink hues, Jirisen's 'motherly' voice quickly spoke. Calm your excitement, Jirisen. Speak softly.[/b][/color] Jirisen blinked, utterly oblivious of the pain his loud voice caused. Carefully he lowered his head and replied in the low tones he had been told to speak in.

"Jiri carry Brother."

The words were spoken in a whisper, low and understanding and straining so hard to keep from lapsing into his excitement. With smooth steps he moved closer, nudging his brother gently. He was strong, he could carry Xavídje without falter.

It was almost draining to remain calm as things exploded nearby, but he kept his attention focused solely on Xavídje. If he didn't, he would speak too loudly. Yelp in surprise. The voices kept him in line, deep brown hues echoing the softer pink hues, telling him to hold his tongue and to keep himself steady. It was a great task, at least for one as limited mentally as he was, but he was ever determined to prove himself worthy to Xavídje.

[silverdust]

It was a stretch for Jirisen, that much he knew. Thank Zar for his brother's feminine voice. He was familiar enough with his brother's mind to pick apart the three voices and indentify them. She and the darker one, they were what led his brother most of the time. He leaned heavily against the stronger form. Jirisen was the only one allowed to see the falter in his wall, for he knew already, would always know, and he never revealed. It was a luxury, a companionship that Xavidje could afford.

While the trip back was far easier with Jirisen's help, it was not without its trial. The pain refused to ebb, only dulling to a throb that rolled as thunder. The lashes of his stray mental power shattered windows and crushed boxes and papers, twisted grailwork in fences but never did it harm him nor Jirisen. It quieted as they came closer to the theatre, now and then only kicking up grime and grit or sending small things airborne. It was wearing down as its harnesser grew weaker.

Isisbia was waiting at the entrance hall, having moved from the room. She couldn't look at it any longer, driving her more insane by the minute, the chorus of voices relentless. She looked at her children neutrally, and if she felt any alarm at the psychic's state she didn't show it. Her eyes furrowed slightly as another errant power struck out several of the candles. She looked at Jirisen, eyes vague questioning. She didn't want to dare the twisted one until he gained some semblance of control.

"Did you find him like this? Did he say anything?" she knew the boy couldn't answer very well, and she probably muddled him even further. Her sadism was getting a kick anyhow.

[Vyn]

Jirisen was quiet the rest of the way back to the theatre, never uttering so much as a yelp as windows shattered and boxes imploded. Ever present were those two predominant voices, speaking with subtle urgency and firm command. Pink steadied his tongue, Brown steadied his body...and Jirisen moved flawlessly from the allies to their decrepit theatre.

Mother was waiting for them there, standing at the door as Jirisen lead his brother through the door. Jirisen was momentarily silent, confidential of his brother's weakness for he didn't have the capacity to know it as thus.

Nevertheless, her words did further muddle him, the voices telling him silence...Mother asking him to speak. For a moment he stared at her, both sets of ears flattened back as his hollow eyes flicked to the one leaning upon him for support. What did he say?

"Yes." He spoke in that same hushed tone, the Pink voice urging silence while the Brown one supplied his words. "Jiri carry."

Jirisen began to move once more, determined to get to their room so that Xavídje could rest. Mother might follow, but he could only focus fully on one thing at a time: Xaví first, Mother later.

[silverdust]

Isisbia's eyes narrowed, but she curbed her tongue at her child's vagueness. Ja'mediahs had taught her long ago what losses her quick anger, her rashness would give. her. Instead, she followed the two children to their chambers. With her size and speed, she could've made the trip easier for the boys, but she didn't want to interfere with them, nor was she allowed to. She was their mother, yes, but their relation seemed more of that of cast members, with no relation. Had she more of a heart, she would've regretted the lost chances.

Xavidje let Jiri guide him, now just exhausted, the pain slowly bleeding away. He could vaguely feel Isisbia, but at this point he didn't care. Their mother was nothing more than a Puppet, letting her see his weaknesses could do him little harm. Besides, she was so uncaring that he doubted she would be involved in much of his future plans at all. No love, no danger. It was a rather workable family arrangement.

[Vyn]

Jirisen's mind kept wandering curiously to this mother, distracted by the angry Puppet which was currently stalking him back to his and Xavi's room. He couldn't quite understand why the angry one was following him, but the voices wouldn't let him pause to find out.

Come on, Jiri, just a bit further and you can rest too.

If only it wasn't Xavidje he was leading, he might've gotten bored by now...might've let himself wander off and play. At very least he might've groaned in boredom of the prolonged trip. Jirisen, however, remained determinedly silent, the tip of his pink tongue sticking from the corner of his muzzle.

Stay Quiet. Keep moving.

The ever present voices were a slow, rhythmic mantra that kept Jirisen moving steadily until he reached their quarters. Slowly his tails began to sway with pleasure and he moved the final few steps with the faint echo of what might have been an eager spring heavily suppressed by the voices within his head.

Finally he arrived at his destination, pausing at the edge of the low bed and crouching slightly so that he could become a makeshift ladder for his Brother. The sway of his tails slowed considerably, careful to keep from shaking his entire frame with delight of a job well done.

_{Jirisen: 9}

[silverdust]

Xavidje made use of his brother's ladder without much shame in the bargain. Jirisen offered himself of his own accord, and it would be rude not to accept. The boy was simple, even though he cared for him he recognized that, and he had not much pride to tarnish. Still, he made his steps quicker than they ought to be, making the room spiral dangerously but he kept a firm hold on his conciousness. He did not collapse upon the bed, he wouldn't allow himself that luxury in front of their mother, but remained sitting, eyes shut all the way as not to make himself sick by opening them.

Isisbia had to admire her children, a little pride that these two had come from her own body. Even though the voices crowed of their mutations and derangement, she knew they had the strength to oversome them. Strength that was latent in her, and perhaps would lie that way forever. Even the simpleton was stronger than she in that respect. A subtle flash of gold caught her eyes, and with a small gasp she stepped closer to her twisted child. Those three chains still glittered about his shoulders, hidden deeply in the folds of his cloak. Her eyes narrowed as she threaded her fingers through them, perhaps giving a comforting touch in the process, and drew them from around her son's neck.

"It really is over then," she said, her voice an odd mix of dry nonchalance with an undercurrent of some deeper wound. The chains glowed like serpents in her hand, flickering in the candle-light.

<He said you would know,> came Xavidje's mental echo. He would give the poor creature that much, even though it pained him still. She didn't look at him, but she leaned on the bed, looking at Jirisen perhaps, but the eyes were distanced. Her hands flashed together and the chains drew themselves apart, weaving into a complicated string pattern shimmering with jewels, the chains themselves seeming like molten strands of moon and sun. She smiled lightly, bitterly.

[Vyn]

Jirisen had very little pride or, at least, very little pride which could be tarnished. So long as his brother was pleased with him, Jirisen was proud of himself. So long as the voices were soft and filled with praise, Jirisen was proud. Being used as an object did not concern him, he did not comprehend that it was 'wrong'. To him, that was just how things were. He didn't have enough brain power to grasp that such things could hurt another being's pride.

Nevertheless, the Puppet's tails had set to wagging as his brother made it to the bed and swiftly followed him up, sitting down smoothly at his side. His stance was almost comically regal, his lion tail held high and his canine tails waving with childish delight.

He'd brought Brother home and Brother was okay for now. It was all that mattered in Jirisen's limited understanding. The depth of what was going on...that the mean one would not return, and that the angry mother might be hurt by this...was not sinking into Jirisen. Instead, he let a lopsided smile claim his muzzle and was instantly mesmerized by the shine of gold.

His mind was blank, the tax of having to focus so heavily upon Xavi had left him in a deeper stupor than usual. So he watched the serpentine flashes of liquid gold chains with blank eyes, entranced.

_Jirisen:10

[silverdust]

"I suppose you've wondered why I'm your mother and he's your father," Isisbia stated abruptly. Or not so abruptly to Xavidje. She was sitting right next to him, and with his mental walls drained, he was picking up on her arguing voices quite clearly. But he didn't care at his point, not any longer. If she needed to rant about it, try to tell them some story like a good mother, that was more for her own benefit than theirs. He couldn't stop her if he tried.

And she knew this. Her words would fall on ears too deaf or too far gone to care. Her fingers flashed in and out of the various loops and nets, never clashing, never clumsy. It was a grace that befitted a Marionette, delicate and artistic. The tension that gripped her body, the constant tight anger, it had no place in her web of gold and jewels. She noticed Jiri's watching eyes, and with a smirk she wove a spider and then a flower, things he might recognize though she doubted it. It kept her mind, the part that belonged to her, occupied and away from the ranting tumult of the voices.

"I caught him in a net of gold, for one night he fucked me like he loved me."

The words were harsh and not your normal fairy tale, but they were for her self-gratification and to snide the voices that were still cutting against her. Xavidje heard it barely, letting himself slip in and out of conciousness, leaning his head barely against Jiri's shoulder. Right beside them, Isisbia didn't even discern the contant, so tentative it was.