Improv Plan

Nothing hurts more…

Than having no one believe you…

. . .

Sirens echoed all around, the wave lengths bleeding into the dark canvas of the night sky while brushes of midnight mingled with the charcoal. The chill of winter floating from parted mouths as a lone kid stood in the center of chaos. Snowflakes, drifting downward in little messages of sorrow, vanishing against the upturned bridge of a small nose while the rest started to conjoin across heavy lashes.

Red and blue lights flashed, the streams of color highlighting Damon’s stricken face. The rays reached across pale skin edged with dry blood to reside in lilac orbs that trembled with disbelief, and those orbs could only dull further as the officer's words echoed in his chest. A heartbeat filled with poison dripping down to taint the tears that refused to fall, clinging desperately to his waterline.

"We searched everywhere we could, but everything was destroyed in the fire. We’re sorry, but they’re gone.”

He had tried pry his mouth open to speak, but the functions for his jaw refused to budge and all he could do was watch as the officer sighed, tasting the blood pearl on his tongue when his teeth clamped down on the inside of his cheek. The sensation of his world toppling over on its axis when a hand was placed on his shoulder.

The large weight became imprinted in his mind and that weight would no sooner become associated with pain.

"I know this must be hard. Get some rest and see if you can remember anything else."

'But I…'

The words fell across Damon's mind in a shower of fragile white. Feathers, wholesome and full, hitting the ground with a splash of black locks.

'They were killed, I saw my mom, her arms... that woman, she—she. The fire was so tall.'

A stray feather coated with red, tore and melted against his lips, not letting a single word leave the domain.

He had been steered away, being gently pushed forward into the awaiting hand of a man with sandy blonde hair that draped around his face like falling threads. That same man had smiled at him. His eyes glossed with pity from behind clear lenses, just before he had placed an oversized coat over Damon's shoulders. "Come with me." Sadness had been hidden in those words. But the silverette had only looked away, allowing the emotion to be brushed aside when they had begun to head towards a foreign vehicle. The footsteps, clear and overwhelmingly loud, bouncing off Damon's ear drums with each step he took. Steps that brought him closer and closer to shattering the simple peace he had once known.

A webbed crack beginning to form at the glass edge of his world.

The noise abruptly came to a halt and the stranger opened the car door. His body moved forward, but the claws of accusation reached out for his heels, gripping tightly so that all he could hear were the whispers that had started to socialize with the demons in his head.

"Do you think…?"

"No. He's just a kid."

"Yeah, but he wouldn't be the first child to kill their own family. I mean look at him, he's freaky. Plus, a fire like that is insane, his mom was missing an arm for Christ’s sake…"

"He did just lose his entire family, leave him be."

"Yeah and he didn't even cry. Seems a little too suspicious to me."

"Let's not jump to conclusions, alright?"

Damon's gaze had shifted to peer over his shoulder, a lock of eyes solidifying while he took his spot in the car. A soft breath escaped to paint a small surface of the window, and the boy held the man's stare, even when the car had started to roll away.

'I didn't kill anyone.'

The crinkles of the man's brown eyes slanted into lines of judgment, and he grimaced, before looking away with a shake of his head. The tip of his police hat shifting downward to hide his features. As if he was hiding from the unworthy gaze of a monster.

The glass shattered.

Something moist and warm slipped past the cover of Damon's lids, a deep burning causing his spheres to grow sharp. That burning only growing in size as the road kept winding. Until nothing else remained except the blurred trees of the hovering forest.

'I didn't!'

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"He didn't."

James slumped back in his chair with relief; the blonde's glasses tripping down his nose to dangle on the edge. The glasses caught by a single digit shooting upward as he replied. "I'm grateful Damon didn't cause you any trouble then, he can be a bit of a handful, that one."

A comfortable atmosphere fell over James’s office as its three occupants exchanged a look of agreement at the statement, the sunlight peering in through the window already shaded with the promise of nightfall. Sitting in the two chairs across from the rectangular oak desk, was Clay and Drew. And it was Drew that commented back, flowers swooning at his smile. "He's definitely an interesting guy! But I don't think that's a bad thing."

The rim of James's coffee cup hovered over his lips, the steam brushing forward in temptation, before the man made his decision. The cup was set down with a melodramatic thud. "I'm Damon and I'll toss you out a window if you look at me the wrong way!" With a fist in the air and swing to his step, James plopped back down in his seat after his improv impression. "I swear he breaks all my stuff." James informed his tone affectionate while he pulled out a picture from beneath desk.

Staring at the photo in his hands, he muttered. "You wouldn't believe the temper on that kid, hard to believe with how cute he is. He has one of the most serene sleeping faces."

The sound of a tray rattling rang from the opposite end of the room, and with it came a playful comment. "Don't let Damon hear you say that, he might get mad."

Three heads turned in the direction of the voice, the eldest perking up significantly. With a metal tray in hand, the girl gave a shy smile. "Oh my sweet Amelia, you brought our guests tea! Thank you! Please join us, have a seat."

Amelia, with a flustered look adorning her features, set the tray on a side table. Then her body was being placed in a chair on the left side of vibrant blonde locks, soft ruffles curling to tuck beneath her legs. Sea of carmine watching silently as the other two youths grabbed the drinks the chef of the house prepared.

One of the duo pivoted to face her. "It's nice to see you again, Amelia." Drew greeted, whilst taking a sip of jasmine tea.

A cough with the body of a rattle snake resounded throughout the room loud and clear, and the other boy turned still into silence, just as Clay placed his cup on the tray. Not taking a single sip. "Before we get even further off track…Chairman, this is for you, from my father."

James recovered smoothly, his eyes on the boy who seemed just a bit too professional for his age. "Ah, yes, from Mr. Ares!" Taking the envelope between two slim digits while Clay’s presence loomed over his form, James nodded his head pleasantly. "How is he doing?" He asked, flipping through the documents the moment the pristine envelope was torn.

"He's been doing well, he just gained another contact to represent our family company."

A flinch, barely visible, shook James’s body. A finger adjusting his glasses once more as he smiled down at the envelope, but it was cold.  "That sounds like Ashton, I never could keep up with him. But with a lady like Julia behind him, he's probably too scared to slow down."

Dark chocolate hair slid away from Clay’s lashes, the sword of twisted amusement doing its dance. "My mother knows best, or that's what my father would say."

The sword missed its mark on James, the man merely laughed a jingle in agreement. Until his lids flared away from his eyes in surprise."…This is…excellent news! Tell your father I'd like to meet with him whenever he's free, it's been far too long. I'll even bake him my famous muffins!"

His brow twitched upward, curiosity aflame, before Clay forced it away with the turn of his back. "I'll be sure to let him know… Drew."

The blonde quickly jumped to his feet. "Coming, Clay! Excuse us."

With confused expressions adoring both the Ford descendants' features, Drew and Clay made their way to the door. Halfway there, however, Clay’s legs came to a halt.

"Clay?"

Lavender flowers slumped and on the verge of decay, bent forward to accept Clay's caress. The vase it was captured in, covered with dust—neglect settling on the otherwise beautiful object.

"Ah, did you forget something, future Mr. Ares?"

The pads of his fingertips trailed further along the petals, until they touched nothing but air. "No. However… something did just cross my mind." Clay replied, two sea orbs shifting over to acknowledge James. "About Damon, how long has he been residing here?"

A glint hit James's glasses-shock a splash of caramel in his irises-when he cleared his throat. "Damon has been here for almost eleven months, it'll be a year when mid-December hits."

The contours of Clay’s face rang with warning, but as he closed his eyes, the fourteen year olds visage smoothed out into the illusion of a simper. "I see. That's all I wanted to know. I'll see you again, James. Have a nice day."

A palm hit oak with a loud smack.

"Actually, I just remembered something myself. I have something for Mr. Ares, if you'd care to stay for a moment." An overbearingly bright grin stamped itself on James’s mouth. "Amelia, dear, would you mind giving Clay’s friend a tour?"

"Huh?"

The sunlit blonde blinked, eyes catching with Clay’s. There was a phase of silence before a soft "o" formed on his lips. Next thing Amelia knew, a beam was directed her way. "Ah, yes! Before you came in earlier, I wanted to get a look around the place—it's a very well kept orphanage and my uncle has been thinking about adopting a child as of late. But if it's too much trouble…"

Brown eyes widened, and two petite hands suddenly cut through the air in sharp flails. The juggled girl flying to her feet, smacking herself in the face with her own hair during her rushed movements. "N-No! I can show you around, it's no trouble at all!"

Suddenly rows of pearly white teeth were alight in front of Amelia’s face, and with a soft squeak she was stumbling to catch up with the boy, two feet in front of the other in rapid succession as he started on without her. "Wait, ah, you're heading towards the bathroom!"

The door swung open and as her foot hit the edge of the room, red locks twisted in the air to reveal large brown eyes turned Clay's way.

Clay gave her a gentle parting, "Have a good day, Miss. Ford."

A rose bloomed in the flesh of her cheeks. "Y-you too," she mumbled back, just as her head swiveled forward and she let out another noise of distress. The door closed on the sound of her feet padding across the floor hurriedly and a sheepish laugh that accompanied a request: "I want to see the library first, if you don't mind."

Clay shook his head at the commotion, earning a chuckle to his right.

"You know…" James started. "…you remind me a lot of your father. You're very polite."

And then, the light was sucked out of the room with a simple retort. "As expected, correct?"

Resisting the urge to frown, James merely patted his pocket. "I wouldn't say that, your lineage just shows very well. But, AH, right this way…" He spoke; his feet guiding them down each corridor flaked with old age, wallpaper curling at the borders. No words were spoken, just the sound of children's laughter and a bouncing ball echoing behind their forms. They didn't stop until they stood before a coffee engraved door with a flower painted window. Glass stained red and hues of green staring back at Clay in the form of a delicate rose.

"Oh just head on in, I'll be back in a minute with the gift for your father."

Clay opened his mouth to question the man, but as he turned, James was already gone. Empty air grasping at where the chairman's presence was just welcomed.

The door pulled open with a startlingly loud creak, and Clay's body grew stiff in the doorway. With fingers still pressed firmly around the handle, the brunette cast his gaze over the room filled to the brim with flourishing green leaves and sparks of color. Everywhere he looked- even in the dark shadows of the area-life brimmed in the tall fortress of plants held alive with flowers, small trees, cacti, and even a small assortment of Venus flytrap. The speckles of moisture floating in the air reaching out to tease his senses when he held out a hand to cradle the air heavy with water. "A Greenhouse…?"

There was a flash of white, and then Clay was being held at gun point with the barrel loaded in two amethyst gems.

"What're you doing here! This area is off limits to visitors." Damon all but growled with his boyish features and small freckles beneath his milk white skin. Sharp irises colliding with Clay's stunned orbs. To the boy's chagrin the shock quickly dissipated.

"The chairman requested that I wait here… Damon, I’m guessing."

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. .                                                       .

Warm brown eyes watched from behind the stained glass window, the groove of James’s lips flat. "I brought a battered child as a souvenir…I sincerely hope you know how to handle him, Clay. "