Ari

Hope is but a waking dream

The sound of dripping water once more greeted rounded audits. A sound he had heard once before and that still bothered him. The dripping of the water honestly made him have to pee. However he could handle that. The first time he had been here, he had been a bit unnerved about the amount of bones that had collected in this one place alone. It had been as if the bones would spring up to life at any minutes. For all he knew they could. After all he had met a living amalgamation of trees and vines. Though this time he was a little less unnerved he still eyed the bone piles wearily.

Broad paws carried the lion through the room, soft splashes sounding as his paws entered shallow puddles. He was heading for the same place he had met The Collector before. Around his neck dangled a large rabbit skin bag filled with five gems containing life. He wasn’t sure how he felt about doing this, but he had to make James’ life moving a little easier. So it was worth the sacrifice, at least to him it was. He had of course kept looking and found a couple to keep for himself. These had drawn his attention quite well. As he plodded closer to the area where he had met it before. Collector I come to fulfill my contract! The lion called confidently to the creature he had met a few weeks before.


ARIS BAG CONTAINS:
Prasiolite
Sunstone
Hambergite
Blue Topaz
Zincite

"Ahhhh," came the soft, crooning voice of the Collector. And he was there, then: slightly behind and to one side of Aristotle, leaning against a bone pile, so oddly close. The cloak draped around him, hanging like coattails; his head, hooded, was canted slightly to one side as if with curiosity, or perhaps amusement. Both hands were clasped over a thick, black walking stick--a new addition, and one that formed a rest for his idly-crossed hooves.

"You are here to... collect?" he asked quietly, one clawed hand uncurling, gesturing out to Aristotle. "Good... good. Now, please... give them here, and we will fulfill our contract."

There was something dark and lingering, like the promise of thunder on the horizon, in this words. The clawed hand reached out, palm up...

...Waiting.

@Aristotle

Ari

Hope is but a waking dream

Aristotle nearly jumped out of his own fur when he heard the collector behind him. Thankfully it would seem his bladder would cooperate this time. Holding back the torrent but just barely. Instead he let out a rather startled cat like Rowr! The lion turned to give the Collector a sheepish grin. At least he hadn’t embarrassed himself. That was a good thing right? Aristotle noted the creature's posture and all but assumed that the Collector was amused that he had successfully frightened the poor lion. The lion also noted that now he could see the creatures feet which were hooves, he also had strange spindly fingers. The lion couldn’t help but wonder what the rest looked like.

The lion bowed his head once in affirmation. Yes I brought the stones as you asked. He confirmed in a confident albeit slightly embarrassed voice. Can I have the bag back at least? It has a sentimental value. The lion said as he slid the bag from around his neck but held it in his mouth until he had been answered not handing them over until he knew he was getting his bag back.

"Of course," the Collector crooned; "the bag was not part of our deal. Now, let's see what we have here," he went on, once he had the pouch in hand.

Slender fingers dipped inside.

When the hand withdrew, it did so with the pale blue topaz held between the long, black claws of the index and thumb fingers. Each silvery hair on the Collector's hand seemed to glint in the light, the topaz catching it, reflecting it back, with the bright shine of the orbs.

"Look at it shine," he murmured, to Aristotle; "Almost with hope, don't you think?" He paused, a thoughtful mulling-over, and then briefly hummed in thought.

An image appeared, before him. Shimmering in the air, a picture of what the stone had once contained--what it still held within. A fat, happy-looking lizard, bright-eyed where it lay across a branch or rock. It was short, stout, thick-bodied, with large, cheerful eyes and its lips curled up in what was almost a smile. It was, had he (or anyone) known the name, a Leach's Giant Gecko; childlike in its dimensions, and undeniably cute.

The Collector let out a low, quiet laugh. "Ahh, well. What could have been, hmm? There will be no rebirth for you, I'm afraid; the one to find you was not the selfless sort."

The hand closed over the stone, fingers blocking the shimmering blue from sight. There was a hiss, a draw of magic, and then a quiet, dull crack. The image of the gecko vanished, the final glint of its happy eyes fading into nothing; and when the fingers spread, the stone was colorless, lifeless, and dim.

The Collector smiled brightly. "Let's see what's next, shall we?" he said to Ari, dipping his hand back into the bag.

@Aristotle

Ari

Hope is but a waking dream

Glad to hear that he could have his bag back, the lion eagerly set the strap in the Collector’s outstretched hand. He was happy to have the bag because it had been made by Aunty, who was someone very dear to his heart. Baby blue eyes watched the Collector as he withdrew each stone individually The first gem glittered spectacularly against the Collector’s own silver hairs. It was almost mesmerizing but the lion kept his wits about him.

Rounded suits slid back slightly at the Collector’s comment. It did look almost like hope. A twinge of regret filled him, but it was too late now. He had signed the contract. However he knew he had others who needed him. These were just a small sacrifice for what he had to do. Surely this was the right thing, Making the life of the person he loved easier that was a good cause right? The lion took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. The Collector was seeming to try to play some kind of trick on him.

Aristotle watched the image in the air. The little lizard was adorable. A life that would never be again. Silently Aristotle bid it farewell and sent his silent apologies with it. He hoped in some way it could eventually forgive him though it would have no future. He watched as the Collector dipped in once more. This was going to be a painful experience for him. But he would hold fast for James.

The hand, as it withdraw, clicked nails on stone: a teardrop-shaped sunstone, seeming to hold all the warmth and brightness of the orb-lights within its shell. Black claws framed it perfectly: and the Collector smiled.

"Ahh, I wish you Gembound could feel the sensation of this magic. Life--power--waiting, patient and trusting, to be revived. It is... as holding creation in the palm of one's hand." As he spoke, a new image appeared. It was a strange creature; long-bodied, slender, with ridges along its back and a long, pointed tail. A face could only be described as 'sweet': something like a cat crossed with a cow's calf, snub-nosed and wide-eyed. Long, golden fur, striped with black, hung to the floor, and the creature seemed to be talking. Energetic, enthusiastic; and the Collector laughed, quietly.

"This one had... many friends. But never again, I'm afraid."

Fingers closed around the stone. The image faded. The crack came, and left the teardrop sunstone nothing but solid ash.

The fingers dipped back into the bag for another.

@Aristotle

Ari

Hope is but a waking dream

Aristotle watched the little bit of sun be withdrawn. Again he sent an apology. Again he held back the regret and held himself back from stopping the Collector taking another life. He may not have taken the life himself, but boy did it feel like he had betrayed them even though he had never known them.

He watched the image, small tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The bright cheerful creature was but a glimpse at what they had been. Aristotle’s heart squeezed in his chest. He was glad that he was the one going through this, and not James. He knew that this would absolutely destroy him. James was strong but Aristotle wasn’t sure he could handle watching these lives die out right in front of him. I’m sorry little one. The lion muttered softly, his word barely audible as he blinked away the stinging of tears.

Aristotle’s body quivered and from the sadness creeping into his heart. It was excruciating watching these tiny lives that would never grace these halls again disappear right before, catching a glimpse of each little creature that might have been. It was torture, and the Collector knew exactly what he was doing by showing Aristotle these things, even if was necessary.



NOTE: Black on dark background should be fixed so its easier to read.

The next stone withdrawn--the Zincite--was, if possible, even brighter and warmer than the Sunstone.

It was as if the ridged stone were flames held crystalline, flashing and dancing with each fractional turn of the Collector's fingers. "Ahhh--a pretty one. I would be tempted to keep this one, myself," he murmured. "Let's see what was in there, shall we-? I'm curious; aren't you..?" The glint of pointed teeth was visible briefly beneath the hood, and then another image welled up from thin air between he and Aristotle.

This one was enormous: as tall as the Collector himself, and triple that in length. It appeared amphibious--gecko-like feet, a long and serpentine body, a frog-like mouth and thin nostrils. Yet it was wholly alien. Six arms, six legs, its centaur-like stance barely accomodating them. Four sunken eyes seemed to stare keenly out at nothing, two long, elfin ears sweeping back from the sides of this strange head. Its skin was brightly-colored, glossy or perhaps wet, a vibrant green with rosettes in variable hues of mauve, magenta, and violet.

Its eyes searched. Dark pupils ranged this way, and then that.

And then--as the Collector's fingers closed around the gemstone--it faded.

"Two more to go," he murmured, grinning at Aristotle. "We're nearly done; and then you'll have your... wagon." The word sounded almost hollow, tossed aside, after all the lives he was snuffing out; but he was already eagerly dipping fingers in for the fourth.

The once-bright Zincite fell away, lifeless, colorless, and cracked through its center.

@Aristotle

Ari

Hope is but a waking dream

Aristotle eyed the next satone the Collector pulled out of the bag. His entire body quivered. He growled to himself. The lion pinned his ears against his head. How, how could he let this be happening? Why was he letting this happen? No this had to stop! It wasn’t worth it! Two lives had already been lost. He could stop this and he was well going to.


It was too late, the image was in the air. He didn’t care. The lion cried out ”STOP!” The words were emphasized by a vicious roar. The lion crouched and coiled his body lunging for the bag. No more. Aristotle lunged for the bag, his body sailing through the air. He felt the strap and opening hit his teeth and closed his jaws. If the Collector let go he would land behind him growling. If he didn’t release then he hung on with his jaws closed around the strap and opening of the bag. The lion quivered his entire body ready to spring away and take the last two stone with him.

The lion's jaws snagged around the bag--and the final two stones within it. As Aristotle landed with the bag in teeth, the Collector released it, turning to peer at him.

His crimson pinprick eyes danced with light, and his voice came crooning, questioning. "Why, Aristotle, whatever could be wrong..? I thought WE HAD A DEAL..."

The last word came like that promised crash of thunder, loud and bass, echoing across the bones-... yet when it faded the Collector stood quiet and inoffensive, palms spreading curiously to the ceiling. "Have you changed your mind..?"

@Aristotle