Gifted/Normal [DAXAM and BOWELS]

[bowels]

“Nice night, huh?” she said to nothing.

As if someone would call back, she kept her ears pricked. All that could be heard in reply was a low, innocent growl, and her eyes flickered back down from the deluded stars above.

There was Brutus, with his large snout pressed into the ground, at the base of the large wooden fence that caged them both in. He grunted, and slapped his heavy paw against it.

Her thin lips tugged into a frown. “What’re you up to?”

In reply, he gave a whined growl and lifted his head to look at her. Brutus was a ruddy-colored Chow with beady black eyes, and was forty pounds of rippling muscle. For being such an intimidating dog, though, he was playful and loving to the people of the O’Hara residence, which was herself, her father and their on-call butler, and begrudgingly civil to those let in through the gates. Otherwise, he was made for destruction.

She huffed a great sigh and placed her face in her hands. “You’re a dog. What’re you gonna say?” A portion of her dark blue lit up, and she focused on her dog again. “Wouldn’t that be cool, though—if you could talk?”

Her dog focused in on her for a few more seconds, as if comprehending what she had said, but then decided to give a yawned growl and return to his incessant pawing.

Robin laughed at herself and shook her head. It was only when she came home that she wished for such strange instances—when she formed great fantasies and prayed to the forces that be that they’d come true. Being back in Maine brought reality to how mundane her life was. When she was at school, she had friends to be with and to run rampant with, but in Maine, she had herself and her dog. She wasn’t allowed outside of the gate; not without the ultimate supervision and consent of her father.

It wasn’t in her nature to rebel; if it was, she would have long ago. That didn’t necessarily mean she always followed the rules, though—in fact, she had a nasty streak of breaking the rules quite often. Ninety-eight percent of the time, though, it had been completely unintentional, and had been the result of compulsive, carefree actions.

Robin had a very linear thought process, and what she did best was acting; not thinking. She strived for enjoyment, and when the moment struck, she’d often bound out after what she wanted without second thought, and it wasn’t until she was too deep in the situation that she realized she’d probably done something wrong that she’d regret later. It was something that had gotten her into quite a bit of trouble at her boarding school, back in California—sneaking out when the urge struck her with friends, or throwing secret dance parties in the dormitories late at night when they all decided it’d be a blast.

All Robin wanted was to like what she was doing. In Frasier, Maine, though, that was impossible.

It was several large, powerful thuds that broke her from her thoughts. Her head turned back down to Brutus, and she saw him butting his head against the stubborn fence. Her frown came back again.

“Brutus, stop it!” she chided. It did nothing to calm him, though—and this time, he knocked his thick shoulder against it. Robin stood. “Brutus! No!”

Just as she took the first step to grab him and (try to) yank him away, the latched door gave way, and it fell flat to the ground. Then, at what seemed like the speed of light, Brutus was out of the yard and down the street.

If her feet hadn’t already started moving for her, she would have stood there dumbfounded for a solid minute. Her body was acting on its own, though, and cutting out her conscious entirely.

By the time she’d travelled a block and a half, bolting and almost tripping over herself to catch her psychotic dog, she realized she had gone too far this time. This was too over the line for her father to accept, and there was no doubt in her mind she’d be severely punished when she got home, because leaving the protection of their large home was the greatest sin of all.

Her father had always told her that it was dangerous. He was the mayor of the city (an expanding harbor city with a population over two-thousand), and he knew of the inner-workings far better than she did, he’d said; it wasn’t safe for her to travel outside of the home without him or their butler and lifetime family friend, Nicholas. And, because Robin tried her best to be fairly behaved, she’d never asked question. It’d never needed explaining.

The more she ran, the further she was led into the foreign city. She had grown up there, but after she’d turned nine she had been sent off to an all-girls boarding school near the shore in southern California, and from then on she came back to Maine for a total of twelve weeks throughout the year. Now, she was seventeen, so very near eighteen, and she didn’t have a single clue about where she was or how things went. It frightened her, but even more than that, it excited her. It was giving her the adventure she’d pined for in this place ever since she’d been a small girl.

Still, exciting as it was, it was growing harder to run after Brutus. He was like a freight train, plowing through side streets and back ways, and she could barely keep up. Robin wasn’t much of a runner (in fact, she wasn’t much of anything athletically), and she was all legs behind him, nearly tangling up in her own long limbs with each pounding step.

“Brutus,” she panted desperately, “stop!”

There was no doubt in her head she looked ridiculous. The only reason she’d been out in the yard with him so late at night in the first place was because she’d wanted some fresh air, and Brutus was happy to join her. Therefore, she’d thought nothing of her black short-shorts and the baggy purple sweatshirt that she was nearly swimming in. Her brownish-blonde hair, untamed and chocked full of curl, was tied up into a ponytail, but strands were wrestling themselves free. The fact that she was wearing nothing but a pair of worn, dirty old flip-flops helped give the image that she’d indeed just rolled out of bed—which she had, after an hour of restlessness.

To her relief, Brutus pattered to a stop, and he proudly forged into the depths of an alley.

Breathing heavily, Robin trudged to a gradual stop and stayed close behind. They were pressed between two high-rising buildings, and it was then that she realized how lost she really was—and if the city was as horrible as her father had said, she was surely in for some narrow misses.

But, she was strong, and she was brave, she reminded herself. She’d be just fine. It didn’t keep her from uncomfortably shoving her hands into the pouch of her sweatshirt and shuffling behind, though.

[Daxam]

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" Isaac Rider asked, unaware that the same words were being spoken in some other part of the city. But, unlike the other person, he was, in fact, talking to someone.

I guess, if you're into that kind of thing, Vincent replied, his words echoing inside of Isaac's head.

Isaac stands semi-alone on the roof of a building, his grey eyes running over the moon-washed city, the wind blowing through his shoulder-length black hair and ruffling the long, tattered overcoat he wears. All his life he's lived in this city, running across the rooftops, just him and the unwelcome roommate in his skull. As far back as he can remember, he's never had anyone to watch out for him, save for a few people like himself. Most of the time, back when he was a little kid, they would be use him to get a little extra money out of passersby, throwing him to the side once they believed they've got all they could out of him. Now, he just looks at those memories as part of what made him, and Vincent, into what they are today.

His thoughts are interrupted by Vincent, who says, Isaac, something's going on down there.

Isaac takes his eyes off of the cityscape to see a girl, who looked right around his age, chase after a dog, which disappears down a dark alleyway. The girl stops outside of the alley, seems to hesitate, then walks in with her hands in her pockets. "What's she doing out here at this hour?" Isaac wonders aloud.

Deciding to check it out, Isaac jumps down from the rooftop. Just as he's about to hit the ground, a faint glow radiates from underneath the right sleeve of his coat. Less than a second later, a large, sloped chunk of metal soundlessly comes up from the ground. Isaac lands on it and slides down, breaking his fall. As soon as his feet hit the ground and he starts walking toward where the girl disappeared, the iron ramp dissolves back into the ground, leaving no trace of it being there.

[bowels]

Brutus trotted into the dark without a second thought, and though he’d slowed down considerably, his mission had yet to be fulfilled.

Tightly, Robin clung to herself, and mustered up all the courage she could to stay close behind. Her father’s warnings were chiming in the back of her head over and over again, warning her about the crime of the city and how dangerous it was to travel alone in daylight, let alone by night.

There could be someone lurking in the depths of the dark, she thought—someone waiting to grab her and mug her of all the money she didn’t have on her. The only thing giving her some reassurance was that Brutus was there to help defend her, at the very least—and if needed, she was confident that he could put someone in the emergency room.

Brutus came to a sudden stop, and gave a proud bark. In the dark, he whined, and shoved things around with his thick snout. A crate was overturned. Then, he tugged something out, and jauntily walked back to Robin.

She knelt down to meet his height and outstretched her hands. He obediently plopped a thick piece of shirt in her hand, smeared with blood and dirt, and she gave a small groan of disgust.

“Ugh—gross!” she said with a frown, but held it up to what little light was available to observe it closer. “You drug me all the way out for this?!”

Brutus sat, and his curly tail wagged excitedly against the ground.

“What the Hell, Brutus!” she snapped, obviously irked. “Now we’re stranded, with this weird… shirt thing.”

Robin had a habit of doing that—talking to her dog, or anything, as though it’d speak back. Unlike the boy nearing her, nothing ever did.

[Daxam]

Hands in his overcoat's pockets, Isaac stopped a few yards from the girl. Now that he's closer, he can definitely tell that she's not from around here. She has that same air around her that well-to-do people always have. It irritated him that there were people who didn't have to worry about anything while people like him, unless they were good at hiding what they really were, were left on the streets to fend for themselves. Isaac instantly realizes how close he was to getting angry and calms himself down, not wanting to accidentally lose control...literally.

He watches as the girl bends over and picks some sort of cloth up from the ground, presumably what that dog found so interesting, although since she had her back to him, he couldn't tell exactly what it was. Finally, he decides to speak up, saying, "Maybe you should keep your dog on a leash from now on. That way, you won't wind up coming to a place as dangerous as this while you chase it."

[bowels]

Perhaps if she hadn’t been scared out of her wits she would have appreciated how comical her reaction had been.

When Isaac decided to make himself known, she’d just stood, and she nearly came back to the ground when he spoke. She gasped, and clumsily whirled around, her long legs almost tangling up in one another. Instantly, her dark blue eyes rested on the silhouette of someone (a man, presumably, from his voice), and her heart thudded in her ears. Then, she exhaled a deep, shaky breath.

“Oh my God,” she said, and a nervous chuckle broke from her lips, “you scared me! Have you ever considered different approaches?”

His words replayed in her mind, and she felt her heart sink. Brutus met up at her side and sat obediently next to her—and surprisingly, he didn’t growl at the stranger. He never did well with others.

Slowly, a frown tugged at the corner of her lips, and her hand unconsciously went down to Brutus’ furry head and stroked through his deep fur.

“Define ‘dangerous’,” she finally said, and watched his outline closely. He could have been the dangerous one, for all she knew; but, since she wasn’t dead yet, she was hoping that he wasn’t the worst of her problems, and if there were others she could avoid them.

[Daxam]

Wow, she's not bad-looking, Vincent remarks, losing his head as usual when it comes to pretty girls.

Isaac doesn't say anything and, instead, looks at the dog sitting obediently at his master's side. He's always had a thing for dogs and, smiling softly, he crouches and beckons the dog over. The dog, a chow by the looks of it, trots over and sniffs his hand before pushing his head against Isaac's hand. Looking back up at the girl as he scratches the top of the dog's head, he says, "You don't have to worry. I'm not dangerous as long as you don't give me a reason to be."

Isaac starts scratching behind the chow's ear, smiling a little more as he starts trying to lay his head in his hand. Suddenly, he stops petting the dog and stands up. "I can tell you aren't from around here. You should get home as soon as possible. You were lucky that you ran into me and not someone else, but you were pushing it the moment you stepped foot in this neighborhood." The next sentence comes out of his mouth almost as if against his will; "I can escort you out of here, but the edge of this neighborhood is as far as I go."

[bowels]

Robin all but gaped at her dog. He never did that to anyone but her, her father and Nicholas.

A smile flickered onto her thin lips, and her eyes travelled between her dog and the man quickly. “You must be a dog whisperer or something,” she said in disbelief. “Brutus hates other people.”

The tattered piece of shirt was still in her hand, and after a moment she safely tucked it away in the large pouch of her sweatshirt. It wasn’t a necessarily a keepsake to her now, but she didn’t want to toss it aside after Brutus had apparently broke down the fence to get to it.

He spoke again, and she frowned slightly. She’d really done it this time. Her impulse-over-rational-thought act had gotten her into trouble.

“I’d appreciate that,” she said with an airy laugh, then began to walk forward. Brutus remained near the stranger for a moment longer before circling him quickly and following Robin.

Her eyes squinted to try and see him better, but it didn’t do much good; it was too good. Therefore, she moved toward the end of the dark alleyway, and back into the light. Once there, she held out her hand for an introductory shake.

“I’m Robin,” she said. “Do you mind telling me where I am, exactly? Or why it’s so dangerous?”

She frowned to herself. “I have no idea how far I went, or how to get back. I don’t even know where my house is according to neighborhoods!”

[Daxam]

Isaac watched as the girl, Robin, walked past him onto the sidewalk, drenched in the light of nearby streetlamps. She's even better in the light, Vincent said.

Isaac hesitated a moment before following her, stepping into the light as well. He reached out and took her hand lightly. "Isaac. As for where you are, you're in the downtown part of the city. And why it's so dangerous...Well, hopefully you won't be here long enough to find out."

He looks up at the building next to them. "Seems high enough..." he mutters to himself. And if it isn't, I can always go higher, he adds silently. Turning back toward Robin, he says, "If you can give me a description of your house, I can get up there and find it. From there, we can start heading in the right direction."

[bowels]

Robin frowned. It wasn’t the answer she’d been looking for, but if he was so adamant in keeping it to himself, then she was in no place to pressure him. She only nodded, and took advantage of the light.

Her eyes slithered up and down his body. He was taller than her—and while she wasn’t a female giant, she was fairly tall (5’9) and it was all too often that people were either her height or shorter. It was a pleasant change. Overall, though, he looked different—not in a bad way, but in and interesting, compelling way—and she took a second to admire it. Then, Isaac was off to solve her problems, and she launched herself back into reality.

“Um,” she searched for the words to describe it, “it’s a great big brick house with pillars and the works. I don’t know if people know where the mayor lives—but, I live there.”

Her father had never necessarily told her to disclose the fact that he was her father from anyone, but she couldn’t see him being particularly happy about it. Immediately when it left her lips, she felt a tug of guilt, she swallowed it down.

Nobody could have that big of problems with the mayor, she convinced herself. After all, she couldn’t picture her father doing anything horrible to earn whoever his children were a ransom (and, lucky for him, he only had one).

[Daxam]

The mayor, Isaac and Vincent thought simultaneously. Leave her, Vincent told Isaac, all feelings toward Robin gone now. Let her fend for herself, or die, or whatever happens.

Isaac just stood there, eyes closed, as he thinks about what to do. Finally, he opens his eyes, deciding what to do. "Stay here," he says. Without waiting for an answer, he starts climbing the building. It takes a couple of minutes, but he manages to get to the roof. Turning in a small circle, he manages to catch a glimpse of the mayor's mansion. West... Isaac thinks.

I don't know why you're helping her, Vincent grudgingly says. You know what that man did to you--to us.

Isaac ignores him as he lowers himself back to the ground to where Robin was waiting. When he was about halfway down, he points down the street. "We're gonna head down that way a couple of blocks and then hang a right. After that, it'll be a straight shot to your house." He climbs down a little farther and drops down without making a sound, landing on the balls of his feet.