Cᴀᴇsᴀʀ Bᴇʟʟᴇ I D ₄₂₆ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sirenscarred) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
promuseboxing2016-01-29 10:51 pm
sirenscarred) wrote in promuseboxing2016-01-29 10:51 pm
and when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby
There were stories out on the trade routes for the past few years, urban legends that moved from station to outpost to colony as ships made the trek between them. They told healthy mix of stories of space cannibals, conspiracies and news from the major planetary alliances. And then... then there were the ghost stories. The ships that appeared every ten years in systems on opposite ends the the galaxy, genetic experiments and mutations. All the fodder used to get a free drink at a local bar before shipping out again, things that made their way onto the interplanetary networks.
The most popular in recent years was the story circulating about a person, or creature, that looked like a man with abilities like what were reported in sirens in the abandoned quadrants of space. There was never anything too clear except that he was young and either scarred or tattooed in an unusual way.
And that he left trouble in his wake.
--
In the beginning, when Cae had left Ivor behind he'd been convinced that space was big enough that he could keep moving without being found by anyone. It was hard to tell if he'd made the right choice, waiting until Ivor was asleep and running. He wasn't human anymore, not entirely. The songs that clawed their way out of his throat and the siren marks on his body were proof enough of that. Eventually someone would find them and hurt Ivor trying to get to him. Leaving meant he was safe to live the life he deserved. A life without Cae to fuck it up with his weirdness.
The worst thing he'd come to learn about space was, even though most of it was empty you still had to be around people to survive. He'd earned his way on a few ships before someone had caught on that he was unique. They'd tried to drug him and sell him to slavers. They'd even managed to brand him before the drugs wore off and he lost control of his song for the first time in months. When it was over, he'd freed the people they'd already taken and then took one of their ships for himself. The profit for selling it was enough to buy a craft of his own and IDs that claimed he was someone else. Caesar Belle went off the map.
But trouble followed no matter how much he tried to run. Sometimes he jumped in and sometimes he was dragged into it against his will. It left him with a reputation he kept trying to outrun and could never entirely shake no matter how many times he changed his ID and tried to hide his otherness.
He was stuck in an outpost, the longest he'd been stationary in the last year. His ship's propulsion coil had warped and left him grounded until a shipment came in. He tried to avoid becoming familiar with the locals, did small jobs to earn money and ate in dive bars and cheap diners.
It was easy to stay anonymous until it wasn't. All it took was one drunk getting in his face and picking a fight. A flare of anger boiled in his stomach as the ever present monstrous part of him demanded he sing the life out of the drunk trying to insult him. It was always there, pressing at him to feed like he ought to. His song had been stronger after he'd been sold to the slavers, glutted on whatever it was that the sirens took from their victim. It was still strong but slowly draining back. Sometimes he wanted to give in though he always managed to fight the urge. Instead he let the asshole drag him out into the alley.
"You won't want to do this," He said.
Or that's what he would have said if a fist didn't collide with his cheekbone before more than three words were out. The anger flared again, not the killing anger that had hit him back with the slavers, but a tamer one. Instead of fighting Cae opened his mouth and sang. Not a song of death but one of sleep, of dark, forgetful places and gentle things. The drunk swayed, eyes drifting before he collapsed onto the ground snoring. The song wanted to continue though he swallowed it down, head swimming at the effort he'd put into it. Or maybe it was a concussion.
"Shit..." He snarled, struggling to his feet. There was no telling if there had been witnesses. He wanted to go home to his ship, lick his wounds and dream of getting away from this backwater outpost. He'd wish to dream of Ivor if it didn't leave him with such an ache in his chest.
The most popular in recent years was the story circulating about a person, or creature, that looked like a man with abilities like what were reported in sirens in the abandoned quadrants of space. There was never anything too clear except that he was young and either scarred or tattooed in an unusual way.
And that he left trouble in his wake.
--
In the beginning, when Cae had left Ivor behind he'd been convinced that space was big enough that he could keep moving without being found by anyone. It was hard to tell if he'd made the right choice, waiting until Ivor was asleep and running. He wasn't human anymore, not entirely. The songs that clawed their way out of his throat and the siren marks on his body were proof enough of that. Eventually someone would find them and hurt Ivor trying to get to him. Leaving meant he was safe to live the life he deserved. A life without Cae to fuck it up with his weirdness.
The worst thing he'd come to learn about space was, even though most of it was empty you still had to be around people to survive. He'd earned his way on a few ships before someone had caught on that he was unique. They'd tried to drug him and sell him to slavers. They'd even managed to brand him before the drugs wore off and he lost control of his song for the first time in months. When it was over, he'd freed the people they'd already taken and then took one of their ships for himself. The profit for selling it was enough to buy a craft of his own and IDs that claimed he was someone else. Caesar Belle went off the map.
But trouble followed no matter how much he tried to run. Sometimes he jumped in and sometimes he was dragged into it against his will. It left him with a reputation he kept trying to outrun and could never entirely shake no matter how many times he changed his ID and tried to hide his otherness.
He was stuck in an outpost, the longest he'd been stationary in the last year. His ship's propulsion coil had warped and left him grounded until a shipment came in. He tried to avoid becoming familiar with the locals, did small jobs to earn money and ate in dive bars and cheap diners.
It was easy to stay anonymous until it wasn't. All it took was one drunk getting in his face and picking a fight. A flare of anger boiled in his stomach as the ever present monstrous part of him demanded he sing the life out of the drunk trying to insult him. It was always there, pressing at him to feed like he ought to. His song had been stronger after he'd been sold to the slavers, glutted on whatever it was that the sirens took from their victim. It was still strong but slowly draining back. Sometimes he wanted to give in though he always managed to fight the urge. Instead he let the asshole drag him out into the alley.
"You won't want to do this," He said.
Or that's what he would have said if a fist didn't collide with his cheekbone before more than three words were out. The anger flared again, not the killing anger that had hit him back with the slavers, but a tamer one. Instead of fighting Cae opened his mouth and sang. Not a song of death but one of sleep, of dark, forgetful places and gentle things. The drunk swayed, eyes drifting before he collapsed onto the ground snoring. The song wanted to continue though he swallowed it down, head swimming at the effort he'd put into it. Or maybe it was a concussion.
"Shit..." He snarled, struggling to his feet. There was no telling if there had been witnesses. He wanted to go home to his ship, lick his wounds and dream of getting away from this backwater outpost. He'd wish to dream of Ivor if it didn't leave him with such an ache in his chest.