❝ A giant in mine youthful eyes, he was. His body was pronounced by bone and slight traces of muscularity; how his linen shirt draped over that impeccably gaunt frame was almost a comfort; and yet, whenever he drew near I was immobilised. It was like a dream where one is trying to run away but cannot: one moves lethargically despite his endeavours until, eventually, his course is cut short.

I don't remember why, I don't even remember who that man was. All I can visualise is the dark, mustard-coloured room we were in (which was rather hazy from what I presume to be cigarette smoke), and that dirty linen-shirt messily tucked into a pair of striped slacks. His skin was on the darker side, laced by veins - I know this because he always had his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. I think his hair was also dark (there were tufts curling at the nape of his neck), but I don't remember his eyes at all. I can't… see anything above the clavicle - which is exposed, by the way.

You find that interesting? Why is that so? ...Never mind, I'd rather hear about your speculations later. ❞

A boy of the slums, that's who Alexis C. Dalton was. His family - just he and his father - were one of many living by dusty train tracks; their home shook several times a day as each passed by with nothing impressive falling off shelves to shatter or break. Such a quaint lifestyle one might think, yet it was full of experiences. Some grand and some not-so-much.

FERRIS DALTON, Alexis' birth father, was nothing short of a labourer. A poor man who had a true lust for spending money he didn't have. His favourite past time was gambling at work with a crowd of men that were apparently friends. For a while, he had a little financial help - but at a cost. Eventually, these loan-sharks wanted their money and took care of the situation as they saw fit. Ferris was found dead at a train track incident.

Then we have Alexis' mother, ARIS DALTON, who happens to be closer related than an outsider would think. With Ferris, her sacrifice, she was known as "Besmirched," having been tainted. Sullied. Sordid. In fear of the imminent gossip, Aris tried her best to abort the baby on her own, but to no avail. Eventually, she had no choice but to give birth, but she did have a choice whether or not to stay. After Alexis was born, she couldn't even stand to hear his infantile grunts. So one day, Aris left. Apparently she joined the rebellion a few years later and died fighting for the cause.

As a result, neither of them were around much. And that was just fine. The village children got along swell - for the most part. Alexis had no trouble making friends with the boys his age (the girls were another story, however, as he and his friends had much too fun teasing them). With the parents spending most hours of the day at work - gathering charcoal and maintaining the trains - the children kept together as a band and would sometimes skip school.

When they were at school, participating in petty courtyard fights wasn't out of the norm, and the result of such was often being forced to stand against the building wall during recess and envy the children who were free to do as they pleased. Yet one day there was an unusual occurrence. There were a few men waiting by the yard, just watching until all the children were released to go home. Alexis cordially greeted these three men. Apparently they were all friends of Father's - which Alexis believed since he had seen and met these men plenty of times before. So he went home with them; however, there were pit-stops along the way.

Truth of the matter is these men were loan-sharks and they were fed up with Ferris' constant bullshit. And since Ferris couldn't pay the monetary fee, his four year old son would.

❝ My father was so sad when I walked through the door – “earless.” I had never seen a grown man cry before - certainly not my father. I didn't understand why he crouched before me and buried his face against the crook of my neck. Instead, I stared at the window as an array of luminary squares raced by on the other side. There were more people around, a lot more, and the lot of them were in uniform. I couldn't help it, the sight of so many people made me sick to my stomach but my father wasn't angry. He assured me "everything's going to be okay, Lexi." He'd repeat it, "everything's going to be okay." Now that look back on this, I think he was trying to assure himself.

What happened, you ask? Well, I supposedly ran away from school one day and the next thing I remember is that scene with so many people and father. ...No, I don't remember how I got there. It's a bit of a haze. ❞

Not long after Alexis returned home from that incident, his father was reported missing. Alexis waited all throughout the night before calling his father's work to see if Father had taken a double shift. No luck. With no one to bring him to school the next day, the little one puttered around the house in a blubbering fit of tears, crying for Daddy one moment and singing for Daddy another. Night finally came and still no sign of Father. The next day, Alexis was famished so like a starved kitten, he pawed at the neighbour's door for some treats. The old woman listened to his cries and not long after that the police were involved again. Alexis didn't know, but his father was found dead - tied up to the train tracks and halved into bits.

With no living relative, Alexis was taken in by government hospice. He bounced around from foster home to orphanage for the next couple of years. The “Ferris Effect” ensued, the cycle repeated. This little one had even faced ostracism from peers his age and older. So, naturally, Alexis tried to normalise his… unique situation.

Life-lasting guilt and regret were thus born, and Alexis had become renowned as a problem child. As he was deemed a risk for both children and adults, he continued to bounce around in the system until he settled in a good, temporary home.

❝ Ha, I'll never forget the time this young couple took me home with them. As soon as we were inside, I hid beneath the kitchen table and pretended I didn't exist; I just watched their feet as they walked about or sat, all while listening to them speak of perfectly normal things without a worry (to my knowledge). And when they supposedly weren't around, I'd crawl out from under the table and sneak from furniture-to-furniture until I had settled into my new hiding spot. This lasted for some time - or at least, it felt like awhile. Only once did I hear my foster mother's concerns, however, her husband assured her to have patience.

While during this phase, I found an old box of white chalk and brought it with me when I hid under the table again. I drew on the bottom of it. It was of a large tree whose leafs were made of elementary math equations: 1+3=4, 10-8=2, and so on. There were the occasional scribbles and smudges, of course, yet math seemed to help calm me. One night, as I was scribbling on my masterpiece, my foster father slid under the table with me. Naturally, I whined and tried to get away but I felt safest under the table, and with his wife’s heeled feet click-clacking just a few feet away, my heart told me it was best to stay… Not only that, there was a bribery of food in this equation. So whilst he tore off a little piece of buttered bread for himself, he gave me the larger half. I watched him chew whilst he looked at my work. Finally, I took my first bite of 'family food.'

‘This is incredible,’ I remember looking at this red-headed, blue-eyed Joe as though he were daft. Nevertheless, he continued to humour my… eccentricities: 'Say, why don't you draw me a picture of your favourite people?' It was a clever suggestion, one I readily took him up on. Taking the chalk in hand, I drew on the floor a picture of my father. His face was a long, upside-down triangle with rhombus for eyes and rectangles for glasses. And of course, I even drew in his ponytail and low-hanging cigarette. He was all I drew. I instantly welled up with tears and hiccupped with sorrow. A paternal hand rubbed my back in the meantime as this man said 'everything's going to be okay, Al. Everything's going to be okay.' And he meant it - not for himself, but for me - for all of us. Such selflessness…
❞

He seemed like such a sweetie, ey? A couple of red pandas with their black-bear cub building trust and getting along. It wasn't at all easy raising a volatile train-wreck, that's the earnest truth. At times, Alexis was fine - all smiles and giggles - and at other moments (on the dime, it seemed), he'd just sit on the floor and scream. He'd whine and crash into Mammy's thigh. He'd even go as far as to completely digress and go back into hiding. The reoccurring theme seemed to be in relation to tall figures, especially men. When towered over, the little one would collapse on his bottom and scream his alarm.

What was wrong? Alex couldn't say, but some eventually caught on, and it likely had to do with the harsh proof that everyone had to stare at: his “earlessness."

Alas, it was during this time that Alexis met yet another intriguing person, one who seemed more technical minded like himself. Of course, the child hid behind his safeguard's hip (Foster Mother's) and only peeked to admire such wild red hair. This man was here on the premise that Alexis was no mundane child. He was half of a true pair and his name was HOUND. Foster Mum contacted SEPTIMAL MOON prior and this man in white was here to represent them (Septimal Moon).

"Do you know how to play chess" were the first words this man had ever said to the child. In response, the boy admitted no, no he didn't. So the two sat down - the board was in between them - with Alex propped up on a cushion and the newly acquainted stranger quietly setting up the board. The roles of each piece were explained, thus, the game commenced shortly thereafter. Every now and then, this wild-haired man would ask "why? Why did you feel that move was good, Alex?" It was a valuable lesson: critical thinking.

That strange man in white continued to visit Alexis periodically. Alex had become so enamoured by this man's company that his foster family quietly jested how he had a puppy crush on his tactical rival. Fortunately, unbeknownst to Alex, his newly beloved companion was in the process of integrating Alexis into a unique education system. But when it came time to actually go home with this person, Alexis froze. He didn't want to go. This... this was his family now.

❝From that point on, I lead an interesting life. A good life. I had received my first pair of fake ears (which I stopped wearing in mid-teens). I enrolled in a mysterious school called the Seven Voices, I learnt of a strange new ‘world’ that involved people known as fighters and sacrifices; I turned out to be a fighter. I gained years and experience, intelligence and charisma, thoughts and opinions as time went on. I earned friends and lovers and popularity. For a time.

However, I never gained what everyone else had: my partner. My sacrifice.

It was almost akin to hitting puberty late: one’s friends would show off what they’ve got be it the hair on their chin or the hair caught in the teeth their zipper. I had nothing to show. At first it earned me teasing. But then the final days of our schooling came and no one was laughing anymore. I waited and waited and waited… I searched the area, even went out showing off the “tattoo” on my tongue when out ‘living the life.’ But there was no sign of my partner at all.

And then we graduated. ❞

The man who whisked Alexis away to Seven Voices saw value and potential in Alexis nevertheless. Upon graduation, Alexis was given the opportunity to serve under this man (who worked intimately with the mundane government) as his loyal hound; his covert protector and attacker. As far as the mundanes are concerned, Alexis was just another ornery secretary who had risen over time.

Alas, like anything else, this arrangement was fleeting. His “master” passed on, leaving Alexis as the heir to his seat in the Seven.

Now, it's just a matter of finding that elusive partner of his. Dead or alive, he will be found. >B|

EXTRA INFO

MADE BY PANNY FOR WAR OF CHANGE IN-SITE USAGE ONLY!