``In The .End.

[~All I Need]

Reserved for Blackie.
WARNING: May contain spoilers. X3

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{ WHAT IT MEANT TO BE WILL EVENTUALLY BE A MEMORY OF A TIME

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{ I TRIED SO HARD TO GET SO FAR, BUT IN THE END IT DOESN'T EVEN MATTER[/color] }[/center]

The only source of light was the candle that was flickering in the corner, slowly dying as the wax formed an oily pool around its base. Books lay scattered about, disorganized but in their places. Scientific specimens floated, encased, in jars full of enbalming liquids; a heart of a human, its sickly glow enhanced by the toxins it lay suspended in; a pair of vipers coiled around each other with fangs exposed. Other anatomical specimens lay about: canine skulls and raccoon skeletons, cicada exoskeletons accompanied with dragonfly wings. Everything of the science world was in this large dome that 3 and 4 called their home.

It had once been a hollow globe positioned on the hands of goddess statues in the library before the war, but when the bombs started falling, it was detached and fell to the floor. Once they had left 1 they had turned to the Institution, fearing what lay waiting in the darkness and anticipating the knowledge that wait inside. It didn't take long for them to feel at home, positioning candles around the edges of the interior and setting scientific instruments on broken shelves. Every evening they woke up to once again search for the answers to their past, every morning they would fall asleep curled up next to each other among the multitude of books. It wasn't safe to sleep at night; you had to stay awake to watch for anything that was coming.

The beasts knew your ultimate weaknesses. . .

" Nooooo! " 1's scream made everyone jump, startled. It grew quiet as they all strained their ears, listening for anymore signs of distress. 5 glanced at 9, his round eye wide in fear. The twins ducked behind a broken lamp, their flickering eyes the only sign of them in the darkness.

" Nooooo! It can't be! " The cry came again. 9 picked up a small knife in his teeth and turned to the cowering toms; " Find her! " he commanded. They nodded and followed 9 and 5 to the entrance to the globe, their small forms trembling. Though they didn't like 1, he was a general. . . A leader. But 9 was starting to gain control very quickly. . . What would happen when their whole world fell apart? What would keep them all together?

3 turned to his brother with cold eyes. " We need to find 7, " he whispered quietly. 4 flicked his ears impatiently and they bounded off, scampering over torn pages and tripping on scattered books. Eventually, they reached the roof of the building where they found 7, her eyes directed out towards the ruined city.

" 1 is a coward. I should have killed him when I had the chance, " she whispered; not really to the silent twins but to herself. The white fae sighed and tilted back her bird skull helmet, her eyes meeting the twins with a cold fire burning in their depths. Though none of them were related, they all had the same pale yellow eyes with silver rings. " What is it? " she questioned, her voice cold and worried. 4 ran up to her and tugged on her lightly but urgently, his paws trembling in terror. 3 kept running up ahead and turning back, the blue hood pulled around his head falling back to his shoulders. After a few painful moments, 7 got the message and snarled, her sharp teeth bared and glinting in the moonlight. " 9. . . "

By the time they got there, the Seamstress had cornered 9 and 5, her hideous eyes glinting in malicious delight. And poised at the end of her thick tail was a familiar figure that they had all grown to know by instinct. . .

2.

The Seamstress had the lower half of her body wrapped around 2's corpse, using him like a puppet. The way his pupils were permanently dilated into two large holes made his eyes appear to be the gateways into eternal night. A scowl was etched into his lips, completely destroying the once friendly facade.

7 screamed as the snake advanced on 9 and 5, high-pitched squeals emanating from its toothy maw. The white fae dashed towards the monstrosity, a large dagger clamped in her jaws. With a hiss of fury, the Seamstress turned to strike at her; 7 was too fast and dodged its blows, her pale eyes blazing with fury. If anyone was to dare hurt her family, they were going to pay dearly.

Quick as lightning, the femme severed the serpent's tail, a grim smile on her face as it shrieked in agony. The silver twins flinched at the sight of blood pouring from the laceration, unable to stare at the monster that had started hunting them. They whimpered in misery as the Seamstress wrapped herself around 7, quickly dragging her away.

" 7!! " 9's cry made the Seamstress glance back at him quickly, an amused glimmer in its red eyes. With a small hiss, it dragged 7 off with it, heading towards the edges of the city where no one ever went.

" 9--! "

And the fae's screams slowly grew quiet in the night.

3 & 4

4 woke with a sweaty sheen on his coat, glittering coldly in the moonlight that filtered into the cavern from the hole in the roof above. His large yellow orbs were wide in fear from the aftermath of his nightmare, the pupils dilated to two little slivers of onyx. A series of movements alerted him to his older siblings tremors, no doubt he was having the same dream. The dream they always tended to have. . . It was either that or the explosions, the fires. . .

4 shivered, not just against the draft that blew his fur the wrong way, but from the chills that tended to creep into his limbs whenever he revisited his past. It was always the same with 3, also. The tragic deaths and the horrible lies. . . They had all been put on everyone's shoulders, weighing them down with the bleakness of the future and the present.

The small silver tabby moved very gently so as not to awaken his twitching brother. 4 sighed as he brushed his nose up against his littermate's forehead affectionately, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. Even when everything had ended and life had begun, they still had each other. And that's how it would always be and had always been.

The tom with the number on his back moved like a ghost as he brushed through the inky darkness, using his luminous eyes and his whiskers to guide him to the deepest part of the cavern where a stone lay, glittering dully, in the pool of moonlight. 4 c o c k e d his head to the side, awed by the Moonstone's--but to him it was nothing other than an ordinary rock--radiance. As he drew closer, goosebumps sprouted all over his body and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end; there was something unusual about this luminous stone. But what? The tabby tom stood before it and laid a brown paw on it, gasping as a jolt of icy lightning roared through his veins. The tom shivered, imbued with the need to scream and run away. But something called to him. . .

" 4!! What are you doing?! "

4 withdrew away from the Moonstone and squealed quietly as his brother's face was brought up to his. 3's normally passive visage was darkened by a black expression that chilled 4 to the bone; this cold feeling bit deeper than the Moonstone's beauty had. " I was just-- "

" Messing with things you shouldn't, I know! " the larger tom hissed, his tone of voice cold and caustic at the same time.

4 looked down at his paws, his eyebrows brought up together in a jagged upside-down V shape. He didn't bother to apologize; they had been through enough in one day to know that 3 was only mad because he was worried for his brother. It had not been long ago that they almost had their throats ripped out by some insane silver she-cat. 3 sighed and laid a paw on his sibling's shoulder; " Look, " he whispered, his eyes meeting 4's evenly. " I'm scared, just as we've always been. Just try not to make things worse by messing with things that might be dangerous, okay? " he continued to stare until 4 nodded, his eyes wide and sincere. " Besides, " he continued, throwing his arms wide to indicate the whole cavern. " This place isn't very sturdy. Maybe we should find another place to rest for the night? "

4 sighed in defeat and leaned on his brother's shoulder, his thin wiry form shivering against the cold. It may have been very claustrophobic in this little underground cavern, but at least it was warmer than it was outside. The small silver tom didn't look forward to having to trek through the snow bound land in the middle of the night; so he fiercely tried to contain some of the warmth from his brother's body.

The twins slowly crossed the moonlit cavern to where the winding path to the surface became a black hole. 3 and 4 stood staring at it for a moment, their expressions reflecting the other's; it was just too dark. The older one sighed, his breath a billowing cloud. " I guess we'll just-- "

He was cut off as a hiss filled the tunnel, its hollow sound bouncing off of the walls. 4 sucked in a deep breath to keep himself from screaming, his huge eyes dead in terror. 3, on the other hand, let out a high-pitched whimper and backed up to only crash into his brother. It's the Seamstress, 3!!! And there's nowhere to run!! Are we going to meet the same fate as the others! I knew we should have never come to this forest!

[/color] For once, 3 didn't have any soothing words nestled on the tip of his tongue. All that was there was a black bile that choked him with trepidation.

Suddenly, the sound of shuffling pawsteps began. And with every syncopated heartbeat of the brothers, it grew louder and drew closer. . .[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

tag; blackles! ( /tackles )
muse; getting better
notes; eeeek! the stitchpunk brothers get to meet atlas! ( /dances )
lyrics;in the end by linkin park

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[Blackie]

>If I was not so weak, if I was not so cold,<
>If I was not so scared of being broken, growing old<

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The little tom kit batted half-heartedly at his stuffed mouse, his expression downcast. He was entirely put-out, courtesy of his elder brother who had taken it upon himself to lead the litter of three in a game of mock battle. This went very much against the younger brother who disliked such action. He much preferred exploring and hide-and-seek to getting his ears cuffed. He rather thought his sister might have taken his side, but Glaze could not be expected to go against Pied's wishes. He was her protector when Mother was not about and much, much more reliable than Atlas had ever been when it came to facing danger. The black kit had to be severely pushed before such actions could ever be considered. Of course Glaze would obey Pied's wishes, leaving their litter mate to sulk until he was so lonely that he had to beg his brother for a position in the mighty wars. Sometimes, Pied would become so full of himself that he'd knock Atlas over and announce that he was done playing anything and run away. Glaze would follow, casting Atlas a very sorry look. He always forgave her. His sister was very sickly and needed to be on Pied's good side. He did not always forgive Pied, however, until the night time when it was cold and Atlas appreciated his brother's thick black and white coat.

"Aren't you done fussing yet, Atlas?" Pied called irritably. He had beaten Glaze again and was glaring at his brother.

"No," Atlas snapped back. "I hate that game! Besides, whenever I do want to play, you won't let me."

"That's not true! Look, I'll play that stupid finding game if you come play fighting."

Atlas pricked his ears, his eyes brightening. "Really?" he mewed eagerly.

Pied rolled his eyes in exasperation, as if he couldn't believe the promise he was about to make. "Yeah, come on."

The "finding game" mainly consisted of Pied or Glaze hiding an object, usually being the mouse, and Atlas searching it out in a certain amount of time. He adored this game. It was always a challenge, especially when his brother hid it because he always chose the most difficult places. Atlas loved to use his senses to discover the mouse; he loved the way his whiskers quivered over a smell and the way his ears swiveled to pick up sounds. Sounds like the direction of the wind so he would know the best way to use his nose or the quietness of the birds in the holly bushes so he could guess whether Pied had been that way or not. Even as a kit, he was very clever that way. Tracking and slipping in and out of places. His litter mates could never beat him.

They had been playing for a very long time. Pied had bested Atlas at three battles while Glaze napped before they had gotten in a few rounds of the finding game. The black and white tom had finished replacing the mouse in another secluded spot and was gently instructing his sister in the finer arts of bird hunting while Atlas searched. Spice, their mother, was somewhere in the human house where the cat family lived, catching up on some much needed rest. The day had grown warm and quiet, just the sort of weather that would make any batch of kits excited and playful.

A stale smell of catnip was spread over a large part of the grassy yard, confusing Atlas' fledgling senses. Pied had learned that by dragging the mouse over certain marks he could sometimes throw his brother off of the trail, which made him very happy. Atlas almost never failed at tracking and it was a great delight to see him do just that. He was becoming rather irritated now, and kept flashing rude comments over his shoulder at Pied in an attempt to vex him. But though Pied was notoriously good at making others angry, he rarely lost his cool over a few petty insults.

Wrinkling his nose and grumbling, Atlas stalked over the false trails like a particularly grumpy badger. His quiet paws stamped wherever he was sure to get some dust flying, as if the dirt animated the level of his anger. Truthfully, he was imagining his brother beneath his feet being squashed like a bug. He thought of Pied squealing for mercy and giggled.

"Pied!" Atlas called, suddenly coming up with an idea. "How about you give me a clue?"

His brother snorted, casting the black kit a gloating look. "No; if I gave you a clue, you'd figure it out."

"What if I pretended not to?" the younger pleaded desperately. He was beginning to miss his toy and was becoming tired. The sun beamed down on the trio strongly now, making them all a bit more drowsy than usual.

Pied arched his brows and shook his head. "No, that's stupid."

Hissing, Atlas turned and sprinted for the porch. His dark coat soaked up the sunlight like paper to water. It was uncomfortably hot, but the porch provided a cool spot underneath with plenty of shade. His head full of mutinous thoughts, he dove beneath and curled tightly into the moist dirt.

"MAMA!"

The shriek made Atlas jump, hitting his small head on the porch beams. He whipped around several times, checking his surroundings in rapid motion for whatever danger was lurking. Only after he had stumbled over his own paws did he stop his panic and was able to look out onto the yard.

"Glaze! Mama, Glaze!"

Pied was rushing to the other side of the yard where the holly bushes were. The flock of birds that nested there had taken flight, screaming to the sky. Beneath the bushes, crouching menacingly, were three large cats. One of them, a honey-colored tom, was holding Glaze by the scruff of her neck, his amber eyes burning at the sight of Pied who was calling bloody-murder for Spice.

"Put my sister down! Put her down, you ugly slime-ball!

The tom's eyes narrowed. Atlas caught his breath, slinking back as he looked from his brother to the strays. Pied had made the honey tom angry, he could tell. Shivering in fright, he wished desperately for his mother. The honey tom, who was apparently the leader, waved his tail and nodded at brave little Pied, his lips curling back to reveal teeth clamped fiercely onto Glaze's creamy fur. The other two cats hissed with pleasure, bunching their muscles in preparation to spring.

Pied kept running

No, Pied, no! Atlas whispered beneath his breath, watching the black and white kit barrel valiantly at his attackers. Above him, he could hear the back door rattling on its hinges, Spice's yowls barely passing the barrier holding her back. The strays jumped at Pied, pinning him down between them. The kit struggled, snarling as fiercely as he could, claws flailing, sometimes connecting with enemy flesh and producing a nasty spitting. Finally, Pied cried out in pain and fell to a small whimpering, keeping a fore paw elevated. One of the cats had managed to grab hold of it and had clamped their fangs around it.

When Pied had been subdued, the leader turned and slipped out of a crack in the fence, his supporters following with both of them holding the little warrior. Atlas gasped in terror, watching his siblings disappearing, but nothing could force him out of his hole.

"Mama!" Glaze's wail rang in his ears, Pied's howls of protest dragging out the desperation growing inside of Atlas' body.

"Mama . . . ,"


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He knew better than to go in there. He wasn't adventurous. In fact, he was famous among his clients and enemies for being a cold coward. Nothing could force him to do what he didn't want to, not even the tempting images of food could stir him. But there was something deeper, something that went beyond material that enticed him through the snow to the jagged, tooth-like stones.

His short, thin coat was little use against the freezing winds, making him shiver with every step. Thankfully, his legs were unusually long, providing some distance between his belly and the white powder that had taken possession of the earth. He thought of the strange Clan cat he had met and pictured them sleeping beneath the stars in the full-force of the winter weather. He could almost pity them if they were not so fiercely protective of what they claimed as theirs. Instead, he envied the soft and gentle kittypets snug in their homes with a human to serve them. How wonderful it must be to be warm and doted upon. With a twinge of regret, he realized how much he truly missed his earliest days curled in a lap being stroked again and again until he had fallen fast asleep. He missed, too, being able to press against warm bodies that welcomed you and hid your nose from the cold so that you could breath warm air and fill your lungs with comfort. But such luxuries were far gone. Very far gone.

The stones loomed above him, casting dusty shadows on the snow. A sense of foreboding wreathed around the rocks like a cloak, clinging stickily to all that passed by. Atlas could feel the danger on him like a ghost, kicking his heart into a wild beat. Though he had never been able to prove that such things existed, he was afraid of ghosts. And of dark, of being trapped, of being beside the dead and knowing he might soon join them. So why was he going here? Why did he want to see what could only be seen by a few chosen; what did he want from this adventure across the moor? He could not expect peace or release from the guilt that ever haunted him, that whispered in the night songs of his treacherous heart.

But what if? inquired the part of him that was still fanciful, still hopeful. It was a very small part of him, indeed, almost consumed by the rest that only thought of himself and his selfish needs. But at certain times, it could be rekindled to such a place that it was irresistible and made him do wild things like get up in the night to see something he had only heard about. Something that might, just might, show him things from his past. Things which he missed very much.

The black mouth of the cave had opened among the rocks, offering Atlas a chance to find out if his wishing heart could be granted its deepest requests. At first, he hesitated, standing in the snow with the wind whipping around his lithe frame. There was so much doubt to level with the hope that he thought it might have been drowned, but it always bounced back like a buoy on an angry sea. Bobbing in and out of the waves, clanging its bell to the weary sailors looking for a way back home. He sighed, lowering his gaze. His paws were covered in white, the depth of the snow steadily growing. If he did not go in, he would soon be swallowed by the small blizzard and the cold which was beginning to prove too much for him. Even if he decided not to go to the stone, the cave provided shelter from the storm. He sighed again and growled, cursing the fool idea to come out here in the first place, trudging toward and inside the dark mouth.

The wind echoed hauntingly against the stone, reminding Atlas of his secret phantoms and almost encouraging him back outside to hold his best against the snow. His blue eyes were wide with barely subdued terror. How very black it was inside the tunnel. Though he was no longer pelted by ice, there was no warmth here only a few paw-steps in the cave. Using his nose, the stray could sense that it would be more comfortable deeper in. But would it be as safe?

Why not defy instinct, Atlas, and take the risk? After all, we're all bound to destruction at some point. His whiskers twitched in mild amusement, his trademark sad smile flashing over his face. Sooner or later he'd find his end, and though it frightened him more than anything, why not run to meet it? He couldn't take much more of the sorrow that infused his life. He didn't know how much longer he could last with the heart he carried. And the guilt. The immeasurable guilt.

His paws seemed to echo in the shadowy chamber, making him flinch with every footfall. There was nothing to tell him that something else might be lurking in there. He was cold, and the mixed smells of several cats was almost a chore to sort through. It was a fair guess that they all belonged to Clan cats, and if the kits he had overheard talking were anything to go by, nothing lived in here with the stone and the cats only came here at certain times. A chill was taking a steady course through his veins. Atlas could not afford to catch a fever, but his trek was threatening to sicken him whether he could afford it or not. Deeper down, he urged himself. It can't be that bad.

Even as he thought it, something feather light scuttled across his paw. Flinching back, the tom hissed at the spider racing across the stone floor. Arachnids were another thing that Atlas disliked. When he was little, a bully of a cat had tried to frighten him with a story about a kit his age who had been bitten by a spider. Within minutes, the youngster had curled up and died. Ever since, the loner hadn't been willing to take a step where he could see one of the hated insects.

As the sound of his frightened voice traveled away from him, an echo bounced back. At first, it was a soft beat against the walls of the tunnel, bouncing gently like water being poured into a saucer. Then it grew, taking shape and earning a more distinct name.

It was a soft cry, like a kitten's. Atlas' sensitive ears flicked forward, trying to catch the last traces of the sound before it faded away. Real interest was replacing the nervousness and fear that had been there before. What would a kit be doing down here; and what would cause it to cry? Tilting his head to the side, the black cat took a few tentative steps further in, his paws suddenly feeling heavy and scraping against the ground.

"Hello?" he mewed quietly. If it was a kit, he wanted to know if it was all right. But if it was anything else . . . Atlas prepared himself to attack, or be attacked.[/center]

tag Fi!
muse high and mighty, if only time would aid me
notes This is gonna be sooo much fun! =D
I must admit, I'm rather proud of this post ^^ Its the best I've ever done with Atlas.
lyrics Frail by Jars of Clay

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[~All I Need]

[glow=limegreen,5,000]♥[/glow]

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>I feel them getting closer, their howls are sending chills down my spine<
>And time is running out now they're coming down the hills from behind<

Unfinished

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tag; blackles! ( /tackles )
muse; getting better
notes; aviator's coming!! aviator's coming!!
lyrics;the howling by within temptation

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