Inspection for the Future. (Ivan)

[Hamish A. Stuart]

Word Count: 961

Tags: Ivan

The winters of Archadia, Russia were unforgiving the temperature dropping below freezing. Snow was tracked into the underground as the guards switched shifts, frozen air found its way into the already chilled cells. Freezing temperatures acted as a shock to the mutants systems, their bodies already fought off the sickness the cold weakened these defenses. Thin low-cost sheets did little to ward off the cold, providing little warm to the mutants who had only the bodies to create the necessary warmth.
Craving any source of heat within the metal cells created an alliance between few mutants, the number of fights between cellmates decreased drastically. Even matches found within the arena seemed to go through changes; mutants appeared to hold back avoiding working up any sweat during the matches. Meals were often cold and didn’t help warm the victor; the sweat on their bodies instead seemed to freeze only increasing the discomfort that came with the winter. Now the most stubborn mutants seemed to comply in hopes of receiving a thicker sheet or even a warm mug of water to provide some comfort.

After a resent auction Hamish found himself alone in the cell once more, his former cellmates figured being a slave to the humans appeared to be a better alternative to spending another winter trapped in the cages. Guards had yet to relocate the mutants that once more failed to earn a contract. Despite his lack of knowledge as to who remained Hamish figured he would find himself locked up with bait again. Whoever decided the arrangement of the mutants seemed to find some humor in always pairing the shadow user with obedient traitors desperate for any home they could find.

Try after try the government attempted to make the shadow mutant something worth owning but he fought off their every idea. The unique hair color and the attractive form gave the underground the idea of making Hamish into a simple pet, nothing more than someone to listen and act as a living trophy. Attempts were made to see if the male would react positively using a reward system instead of a punishment system but no change ever seemed to be found. With the reward system instead of continuing the behavior Hamish would refuse to repeat any action the earned him a reward. Every idea afterward followed the same path as the mutant realized they were trying to force him to comply with his title. The red head only appeared to have one use that he didn’t fight off, performing as a gladiator. Survival was important enough to the Scotsman to throw away some of his pride in order to avoid wilting away.

Conditions of the underground were unfavorable for the mutants but for those who wished to survive any action that would earn them a meal that desperately need was worth swallowing the pride. Hamish had fought so much against the system his body seemed to surfer. Often earning a form of punishment for his many careless actions he allowed himself to be starved for far too long and never managed to gain back the weight. Even with the physical punishments Hamish endured during his nine years within the underground not a single scar appeared on his freckled skin. Refusing to be trained as a pet didn’t stop the government from their belief of being able to change the mutant. Marring any of his flawless skin was forbidden of the guards, his beauty managed to catch the eye of many individuals.

Due to the resent auction the mutants all appeared to be groomed to make them appear appealing for the consumers. Normally wild fire red locks were combed but some locks still managed to stick in random directions showing thin fingers had run through the hair countless times since the end of the auction. The guards hadn’t managed to trim his hair for the auction leaving the front cut at different angles causing it to spike out in all directions and the back still remained over grown reaching well past his lower back. Pale skin also appeared to have been scrubbed clean of any filth that cloaked the snow-white tone.

Unlike the rest Hamish’s cage was well light, the lights were place to lessen the chance of the mutant using his shadows to strike out at not only guards but also visitors, who came to inspect future purchases, and other mutants. The unusual amount of light washed out his skin more but the piercing bottle green eyes appeared to still glow within the lights. Red locks also stood out against the light giving Hamish his own beauty when surrounded by the blinding lights. The flaws, as Hamish would say, on his face provided a bit more color to his skin, the freckles dotting his cheeks and nose gave the harsh face a touch of youthful charm.

In the well light cell Hamish sat on the sorry excuse for a mattress and kept a blanket wrapped tight around his curled form. The frail body shivered and tried to curl up tighter in hopes of creating more warmth during the harsh winter. Hamish expected soon humans would begin to visit the cells and inspect the mutants and decide if any were worthy of becoming the new pet or slave, whatever suited them. In normal situations the ginger would lash at any human that approached his cell but the winter had already gotten to him. The thin form already struggled to retain heat during the chilly summer days so winter time was a true fight for him. Soon he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself from sucking up to humans in hopes of given something that might provide him with the warmth he not only craved but also needed to survive.

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[Deleted]

blackbird singing in the dead of night

I

t was always hard to tell whether the cold was worse inside or outside. As a guard, often idle and standing in one spot outside of the Academy, he could better tolerate what wintry weather befell the outer skirts of Archadia. It helped for him to think about how he always had a warm place to look forward to after his shift was done; be it his home or a cafe nearby to regenerate. That only seemed to steer in the exact opposite direction when it came to the Underground.

Visiting the Underground area was one of Ivan's favorite things to do - after all, he often didn't have anything better to do with himself. The Underground meant people to interact with in any possible way, and that was better than being at home, honestly. But the atmosphere there always seemed to reflect that of the overground. Snow followed you in from the outside, as did its accommodating temperature. Ice wove around the entrance and tracked you wherever you went. Heat was insufficient and certainly did not save you from the cold you wished to escape outside. And that would always baffle him: mutants wouldn't strive better in the cold, would they? Of course not; the cold took control over one's mind and functionality. Though on the other hand, Ivan would always imagine himself making one of them happy by promising the opposite.

That is what every owner should do, he'd think. Promise warmth to gain a companion. If they could somehow resist that, he wouldn't be sure what else to do. Shelter is a vitality - the Underground is shelter - but it is worse than any human home could be.

Visiting had become so common now. He tracked snow off his boots where they walked, chatted in Russian with some of the fellow guards that he passed by. Part of him wanted to make himself known to everyone in the Underground. Trust was something he would hope to gain first, more so with the mutants than anyone else. Ivan never missed attending an auction. He has dealt with a few mutants in his past, but has never managed enough money to keep them for so long. Recently he hasn't bought any at all. Sometimes at auctions, he doesn't even try. It's pleasing enough to watch those who are being auctioned, perhaps make his decision for next time. If not at auctions, then he likes to monitor mutant behavior in their everyday lives.

Steering clear of the fighting arena - how he loathed to see them fight - he made way for one of the rows of cells instead. He didn't care whether his mutants could fight... well, he didn't care for any certain qualities. What he had was desperation, and that could be filled by anything. He always smiled as he peered aside to the cells that he passed, always met with faces much less peppy than his. They were as cold as he was, but much less... sunny. He wouldn't say happy; Ivan usually wasn't happy, even with that smile. They all looked so well groomed today, anyway, even if half of them hated to see humans. He never minded that. Ivan's mind had been dulled to the desires of mutants. He preferred to do whatever he wished to do.

While distracted by one irritated and exhausted mutant, he couldn't help but notice a light beyond the other cells. That one was quick to draw him in. He stood outside of that cell to look in, catching strands of vibrant red hair where they were better illuminated. This one looked as terribly cold and ruffled as the rest of them. Perhaps very skinny as well. Ivan found beauty in this mutant already. His hands reached to wrap around one of the cell bars, feeling the cold seep through his gloves, and leaned in to get a better glimpse. "Why does your cell haff more light than the others?"

Word Count: 656
Tags: Hamish Stuart
Notes:

by worldie for jen

[Hamish A. Stuart]

Word Count: 672

Tags: Ivan

From the many years trapped within the underground there seemed to be a growing want inside the cruel mutant. Sunlight. It had at least been nine years since he had been allowed to stand within the warm rays leaving his skin pale but copper colored spatters over his cheekbones gave the skin a splash of color to his snow white complexion. Deep down he wished to be able to feel the sun tan his pale flesh as it did in his youth, the slight warmth would be the best luxury he could be offered at the current moment. Perhaps after a few more years the want for sunlight would become enough to change his treatment of humans and even accept being taken into a home but it was hard to say if by then his record would have done enough damage to prevent someone from wanting him even for a sort contract.
Even though the air was cold and the sun often hidden behind clouds during the winter days Hamish found himself jealous of the humans that wondered the streets. The sickness he could possibly receive for being in the snow would have been worth the fresh air and the small amount of sun. If he was purchased would the human allow him to wonder around in the light or would he be locked away?

From his cell he sometimes was able to see humans inspect the other mutants, sometimes even reaching into the cell if brave enough or calling a guard to remove the mutant of their choice for a closer inspection. He couldn’t help but scoff at how the mutants were paraded around as if part of some dog show whenever a human thought they might be interested. At least his aggressive nature often allowed him to escape the need to be paraded around, guards often claimed it too dangers to do.

A promise of warmth might have been enough to make Hamish on his best behavior on these cold winter days, or nights he wasn’t sure ever the time. Humans wrapped in their winter coats and gloved hands only seemed to remind him of how he was freezing in the cold cell. No matter how tightly he wrapped the blanket around his shivering form it didn’t seem to be enough. His thin form continued to shake and his mind seemed to drift trying to plot some way to provide warmth and yet give little up in the process. His pride was one of the few things unique to him making it difficult to throw away in times such as these but his dropping weight made each winter more difficult than the previous.

Cold seemed to be getting to him as his eyes closed and he dazed off. The sounds of footsteps were missed, as Hamish seemed to almost be asleep in the cell when the Russian began to approach. His red locks had been combed out and washed recently making them appear soft and feathered. At the sound of the Russian’s voice his eyes snapped open in surprise revealing the bottle green colored irises framed by the bright red lashes. Not sure what to respond with his red lashes brushed against his cheeks as he blinked confused at the male trying to think of a response. It wasn’t often Hamish found himself caught off guard but the calm voice of the large male wasn’t what he had expected. Angered yells often woke him not calm questions about the amount of light that often was viewed as blinding to other mutants. “They're 'ere tae keep fowk lik' ye safe.” That probably didn’t make much sense but it seemed to male hadn’t been warned about him as of yet. “Ah control shadows 'n' ah cannae uise mah powers wi' this muckle light. Does nothing aboot th' cauld though.” The last bit was said with a slight snort as he shifted the thin blanket some. Unlike usual Hamish’s voice wasn’t a gruff growl usually used when addressing human but the calm voice.

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[Deleted]

take these broken wings and learn to fly

S

ilence followed the question he had posed. Now that he had taken the time to stop and look into this particular well-lit cell, he realized he had not taken into account whether or not the mutant was conscious enough to hear him. If the man was asleep, Ivan wouldn't have minded lingering here and waiting for him to awaken. Watching mutants was one of his favorite things to do, after all. It didn't matter whether they were asleep (or if they were bothered by the fact that some stranger human was watching them sleep); they were just as fascinating that way. If they weren't aware of his presence, that made it easier for the Russian to inspect them without them glaring or lashing out at him by means of curt words or physical strikes. It was nice to see them so calm, so quiet and serene.

Of course, in this case, that did not last. Movement from the other end of the small cell confirmed that his presence and his words had been acknowledged. A curious noise sounded from the Russian when he saw those green eyes open. He continued to stare ahead, patient while waiting for an answer and visibly interested to see such confusion on the mutant's face. He didn't mean to startle him at all, but he couldn't help but be drawn to anticipation as to how the man would respond. Mutants always differed from each other when it came to seeing humans, he knew that much. Most of them were terribly grumpy, others were afraid; some timid and some too cold to want to show a sign of liveliness. 

When the mutant did finally speak, it was Ivan's turn to express his own incredulity. That voice was calm despite belonging to someone who appeared to be suffering. It was laden with a heavier accent than what Ivan was used to hearing, and that alone was perplexing - he had enough trouble understanding some English without a thick drawl thrown in there as well. Silence settled a second time as Ivan mulled over the reply he received. There was nothing yet that made him want to turn away from this man.

Hoping he had understood that accent well enough (save for one word he had never heard before), he responded with his own accented and soft tone, the smiling evident in his voice, "Oh. You do not sount happy about your light, so I am goink to assume that was the guarts' idea to keep everyone safe ant not yours."

Needless to say, that reasoning was more fascinating to him than it was nonsensical. As the mutant stirred underneath his blanket, the Russian's eyes were drawn up to that light - it was far too bright to look at for too long - and then back to the cell. He searched for shadows in all corners of the room but found very little - unfortunately, now an interest had piqued in him to see a shadow moving and in action.

Ivan lowered his body until he was at a crouched position, his hands sliding lower to resume their grip around cold bars. The mutant had not shown signs of hostility toward him, so that was enough of an invitation for him to stay and keep talking to him. What better did he have to do? Chances were often low that he would ever find a mutant who wanted to speak to him in the first place. This seemed a better opportunity for him than any... frankly, Ivan was pleased to see that the mutant was freezing. Not that he wished for an undeserving person to be so cold, but that it expanded upon that opportunity for Ivan to find someone of interest. If there was anything he wanted to share with a potential mutant, it was warmth.

"That is an interestink power though," he continued, letting his hopeful voice drift through the quieter air. "Ant I can only imagine how colt you are in here. Bot I am not here to mock you for it, jost so you know. I coult help you. May I haff your name..?"

Word Count: 687
Tags: Hamish Stuart
Notes:

by worldie for jen

[Hamish A. Stuart]

Word Count: 754

Tags: Ivan

Glaring lights often made sleep hard to come by, darkness was erased form all corners of the cell making it almost impossible to shield one’s eyes from the harsh rays that never halted. Nine years made the almost constant lighting didn’t seem to erase the sensitivity caused by such bright lights. Whenever his eyes fell shut a pink fleshy color was still visible as the light still burned through his eyelids illuminating his sight. When alone sometimes shutting his eyes was a last ditch effort to give his eyes a break from trying to absorb the quantity of light for the amount of time. After years of expecting the light as a constant his mind was unable to imagine the torture inflicted upon humans and mutants alike as they were forced to brave the light when they were locked within the cell or trying to get a glimpse at the pathetic creature trapped within. Humans were often tricked, believing the dreadful light was a spotlight meant to display a prize within the underground but this was the opposite, the light put the most dreadful creature on display leaving him only with his sharp tongue as defense.

Finding such curious eyes on him didn’t help with the confusion Hamish already felt to the subject. The noise coming from the Russian man caused his head to tilt to the side curiously trying to understand. Was the man as confuses as he was?

The way in which the Russian seemed to inspect him was different from what he was used to handling. Eyes usually looked up with pity or as if he were only alive for sexual use but there appeared to be some innocence with the violet orbs that looked over him. Nothing about the glance made it clear what he was thought of to the large male. Something about the manner Ivan observed him didn’t give off any threatening vibe making the Scot remain calm. The light kept his powers in check but not having rage to pull from made his powers useless even if it weren’t for the light. What made this human different? Weren’t they all just heartless creatures that made his suffering into some sort of game using promises of happiness to trick him? Why was this man different in his eyes?

Receiving the perplexed look Hamish felt embarrassed of his own voice suddenly. It was difficult for the ginger to be sure if his accent or tone were what earned him the look but either way color came flooding his cheeks with a soft shade of red. Thin finger covered his mouth, as he appeared to wish to summon his voice back and alter the sound.

Heavy accent or not Hamish was used to awkward English and didn’t often struggle to understand a word. English was his first language but his parents he remembered having a thick accent like his own but his mother also had Welsh and Irish men around forcing him to grow used to other accents before he was taken from them. Russian accents were different from what he was used to but for some reason he believed it to be cute and suit the large male for whatever reason. “Thay cam up wi' this bonnie idea whin ah wis wee bit it's hard on mah een.” His tone displayed his displeasure with the lights but surely Ivan had to feel the slight burn as the lights glared down on them both.

Lacking any notion that expressed pity even now Hamish moved toward the bars creating little space between the two of them. Even without contact warm seemed to come from the male compared to what came from him. A feeling of jealousy appeared as his eyes were able to admire the quality of the coat and scarf that kept the large male warm while he sat shivering on the floor. If the bars weren’t creating a separation the thin male might have attempted to curl up against the Russian to share in his warmth. “Ah wish ah cuid shaw aff fur ye bit it's tae bricht 'n' ah'ament angered.” At the mention of how cold he ought to be in the cell he could only nod not sure what to say that wouldn’t make him sound desperate. “Hamish Stuart,” his voice gave a sense of pride when he said it. In the end it was his name no one could take it from him. “If ye dinnae think tae wee o' me kin ah ken yer name?”

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[Deleted]

all your life

T

he longer he remained in that one spot, the more that blaring light did start to become a burden. It felt like the hot weight of the sun on the top of Ivan's head -- and that on its own was strange. It was so viciously cold outside and in the Underground as well, so shouldn't that light be a source of relief? It had been so long since he felt heat like that that he had forgotten a light bulb could warm him just as well as the rays of the sun. His ears felt like they were burning from where they appeared under strands of pale hair.

It was a good thing he liked warmth, at least before it becomes unbearable. The light was bothersome in other ways than just that one -- but even so, he was going to try and shut it out of mind and pay sole attention to the mutant he was conversing with.

And after seeing that trace of red on the man's cheeks, it was hard not to resume watching him. If he was blushing, Ivan could hardly tell what for -- perhaps that he had just complimented his power? At least it could have been a sign that Hamish's face was finally beginning to warm. It seemed he had succeeded in drawing the malnourished mutant in closer, which meant now they were both under the more intense reign of light.

"Hart on your...?" He trailed off, having not caught what that last word meant. If anything, this faulty communication between them would be the thing to fluster Ivan. He didn't wish to dwell on words that he didn't understand, and rather sought to pretend he knew crystal clear what Hamish was saying. In order not to make that obvious, he shook his head and moved on to address the rest of the mutant's response. The curtness with which the Scotsman spoke made it apparent that he agreed with what Ivan had said about the lights being the guards' idea and that he didn't enjoy it; even if it wasn't as evident on the mutant's expression. He couldn't blame him for disliking the light if they were to be under it for so long, but it still was something he wouldn't make an effort to change.

"So it was there when you were littler. You propably hurt a lot off people that way on accident." Hurting people with shadows: this was an idea that was entirely new to Ivan. Out of all the harsh things he had seen and thought of over these years... that was primarily one thing that interested him most about this species. Their powers were so inhumane and unheard of sometimes that he only wanted to know more about them. He attempted to picture in his mind how shadows could do damage to a person, but to no avail.

Without any caution, Ivan reached a hand between those bars to touch his palm upon Hamish's head. Naturally, he had taken the mutant's closer approach as a sign of trust and potential acceptance; something he would take immediate advantage of. His hand alone wouldn't provide immense warmth, but it was a start. The tips of his fingers slid fondly through locks of bright red hair, and then felt at a cold cheek.

With such little distance between them, he could see now that this mutant appeared to be rather tall. That would be another first for Ivan -- finding a mutant that either neared or was the exact same height as he was. "Oh~ If it works best when you are angert, then I woult imagine it coult do a lot off damage. I woult enjoy if you coult set an example for me, bot you propably do not want to opset any off the guarts down here. Nothink down here shoult be hurt or destroyt."

He felt the mutant's head nod against his hand, pleased that he had now received a name. "Hamish," he muttered, repeating the name to try it out for himself. "You haff not done anythink insoltink so far, so I coult not dislike you. My name is Ivan Braginsky."

Word Count: 691
Tags: Hamish Stuart
Notes:

by worldie for jen

[Hamish A. Stuart]

Word Count: 752

Tags: @jen

The lights did warm the cell more than the other cells but with the constant light the heat produced never felt any different. It was constant heat so when the temperature dropped or raised he would still notice and often shivered unless he heat became unbearable. The lack of fat on his bones made his naturally produced heat seep out of his skin and vanishes in the cold Russian winds. There were few points when his body didn’t wish to be wrapped in a blanket or the arms of another man cuddled against their warm chest. This was something he occasionally was able to experience with the help of Mathias who often held him during some of the cold nights. This man looked at him seemed to be radiating warm making Hamish wish to sleep out of the bar and push into his arms. Maybe he was thin enough to fit into the coat against the man’s chest? It was a foolish thought and yet he wanted it.

No ending light seemed to have cause Hamish’s pupils to shrink in size making the bright green color only stand out even more. The color appeared to the complementary color to the bright shade of red his hair was making them only reinforce each other with the contrast. How he wished the light would fade allowed his eyes to adjust to the normal amount of light the mutants were used to. Moving from the cell to the arena always seemed to be a shock at the sudden loss of light.

Noticing the man struggled to understand what he said Hamish moved a finger to gesture at his own eyes, “My eyes.” If Hamish focused he could speak proper but always did struggle to remember that some of his words were not found in the English language and were unique to his homeland. It was a little embarrassing that he seemed to be what caused the language barrier for humans and other mutants. It was probably reason that maybe humans avoided speaking to him. He would always leave them confused as to what has been spoken to them. The thought of this social awkwardness made a bit of shame come that he fought against giving up his accent and eventually a darker flush came to his cheeks. In a way he wondered if this man would want to remove the light from him or if they purchased him they would surround him with painful lights.

After a pause Hamish shook his head showing he didn’t agree with the statement or hurting others. “Ah ainlie mistakenly hurt masell whin a lost control. A've ne'er hurt a'body unless thay bullied me.” Hamish was being honest with these words, his shadows often were aimed to hit next to someone or shove them away but if he wasn’t set in the arena they never were aimed to do harm. The density of the shadows was something that the mutant could control. If focused he could make the shadows almost transparent or even allow them to phase through people and objects. The amount of control he had obtained was what frightened the guards to a degree.

Feeling a sudden brush of the cheek Hamish moved to pull away with fear of being stuck but when only felt a gentle stroking touch his moved more into the hand enjoying the slight warmth that it gave his frozen skin. This human was different… They didn’t threaten to harm him and gave gentle touches.

Hearing how the other wished to see his power Hamish decided it was best to give them a little show of what he could do even if it would take some focus. Moving forward until his head rested against the bars a small shadow was able to form between them. Taking a deep breath Hamish tried to focus on what upset him until his eyes turned pure black hiding any of he usually green color. The shadow below moved before moving together and stretching to a different shape, twisting around and moving about a sunflower appear made of pure darkness. The black form floated above the floor and moved toward the Russian without a single motion of the Scot. The bright nature of the Russian made him think about the books he read that mentioned the bright flowers in fields. “See?”

A small smile came to his face and the shadows vanished as his happiness appeared, “Ivan Braginsky.” His voice sounded a little uncertain as he repeated the name.

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[Deleted]

you were only waiting for this moment to arrive

N

ow Ivan would have to wonder whether that bloom of red upon Hamish's cheeks was due to the temperature or something else. And whatever that something else was, the Russian's mind likely would not think of it right away. It was always curious - and pleasing - for him to see someone else blush. In this particular situation, he would not assume that the Scotsman had been embarrassed over his accent - if anything, Ivan was the one feeling silly for not picking up on Hamish's speech. A whole range of foreign accents varied among the mutants he had met down here in the Underground, clashing with Ivan's own; but that was just another thing that made everything difficult.

Eyes. He smiled sheepishly after hearing this clarification, and a soft "Oh" passed through his lips. At least that little moment of fuzzy communication could pass and be put behind them, for Ivan had already moved on to listen to the rest of Hamish's response.

But, for whatever thoughtless reason, he was not expecting the mutant to evade the touch of his hand. The Russian hesitated, ready to reel his hand back and likely stress over the possibility that he had intimidated another potential friend - but just before he could worry over any such thing, it seemed that he had been accepted after all. As with most other mutants, the affection felt natural for him. Ivan might often be shy around humans like himself, but mutants never quite seemed to pose that problem for him. Since he always has wanted one, he's learned to be comfortable with them.

"Then it does sount like you mean well. Fightink back against bullies is always helpful, even if you do not win against all off them. Bullies neet to be taught that there are many nicer thinks to be doink than beink mean." What intended to be a short comment ended up in a petite ramble, which was not unlikely of him. He seemed proud after getting that point across; topping the content that he felt to have relieved Hamish of any apprehension he might have been feeling before.

That and it seemed he succeeded in getting the mutant to demonstrate his power anyway. As Hamish's head drew closer, Ivan's hand retracted to rest at his own lap. The man's hair seemed even brighter in its closer proximity, but that was not what held the Russian's attention for long. As patient as he could be, he observed the changes in the mutant's expression, the unexpected shift of his eyes and the blackness that hovered between them. To see a shadow resting anywhere other than a flat surface was a most strange experience. He was tempted to reach for it, but didn't - he just remained perfectly still while he watched its unearthly twists and movements.

With Hamish still in clear sight, his eyes couldn't help alternating from the shadow to the mutant and back, checking whether there were any movements controlling this... but there was nothing. This might as well have felt like a dream. Realization and surprise bloomed over the Russian's face once he noticed what shape had been woven before him, both daunted and fascinated that this mock flower would appear of all things. Now he had no choice but to touch it. Hesitantly curled fingers reached for the black sunflower that was approaching him - and if needed, his imagination could supply the colors that it was missing.

"See?" the mutant spoke, and Ivan released a breath of further surprise to watch the shadow dissipate behind his fingers. He lowered that arm, head turning to view Hamish again. "Ah.. h-how dit you know to do that?" The smile Ivan gave was a little excited in comparison to Hamish's, despite the seeming timidness of his voice, "Onless sonflowers are your favorite, too. They are my favorite. I-it jost seemt like that shadow was meant for me." 

Word Count: 649
Tags: Hamish Stuart
Notes:

by worldie for jen

[Hamish A. Stuart]

Word Count: 623

Tags: @jen

Incidents with his accent would have been few and far in between if Hamish hadn’t fought away the help during Weeds. Teachers attempted to rid him of his accent before giving up on the idea only to agree that it added to his rarity. After enough discussion it was safe to say the school decided his speech was something to be handled by a future master if it was found to be displeasing. Hamish still found himself feeling embarrassed if he was misunderstood and it only worsened when a human found his language humorous making jokes out of way of speaking. Yes, his accent might make him uncommon but Hamish cared more that it kept him close to his roots instead of becoming a mindless servant. No matter how low his self-confidence plummeted he still wouldn’t change his speech just to be praised.

The response of showed that he was right in that the man misunderstood him but either they cared not for what he had to say or simply were too polite to admit this. Hamish wouldn’t ask which it was and hoped it were the latter.

This was rare, most humans when reaching into the cell would strike him and cause him pain for something spoke they found unpleasing or simply didn’t agree with. It was pleasant to get a gentle touch from a human. If questioned of it he would probably tell of his utter disgust from being handled in such a manner. Even by telling lies he had to keep his façade of being impossible to please even tame, as the other mutant had been.

Hearing the soft ramble made Hamish grow a bit curious as to what type of person this human was. Were they a police officer that helped the weak? Did they believe only in fighting against bullies? Even more Hamish wondered if they saw him fight if they would deem him some form of monster what should be disposed of. If guards were given the choice they would trap him in a room of light and torture him endlessly until someone was merciful enough to put an end to the pitiful beast. If he showed his powers as they were often used most humans would deem him a monster and have him locked away as a last line of defense nothing more. Already he was fortunate he had yet to be killed for being a threat to humanity.

Holding onto anger was difficult when he was around someone being kind as this man had been. Being able to summon the emotion never was difficult but hearing kind words always seemed hard to force for more than a moment. “Na, ye juist look sunny 'n' ah wis always tellt thae flowers protray that. Ah jalouse thay likelie look gloomy painted black.” Part of Hamish wondered if he should try to get the human to turn off his lights so he could give a proper show but for now he decided against doing such an act. If caught both would find themselves in trouble for disobeying these rules. It was unlikely that if asked the guards would grant permission to remove him from the cell to get a better look unless this human had every intention to buy. For now it didn’t seem likely that had any intent to do more than speak to him.

Leaning forward again he summoned any negative feelings forward and drew that shadows from the floor once more. Pulling out of the darkness came a small unicorn. Giving a silent cry it began to run around moving between the bars before jumping hurtles that suddenly formed in front of it. Once Hamish looked at his human pal again the shadows melted away.

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