“Shut up.” Oliver said impatiently, it was more he was frustrated with being helpless. It was his fault that Zosa was hurt. “Just...” He said more softly padding, more of the wound with cloth from his robe. He bit his lip trying to think. In most of the fantasy things he encountered their was a healer of some sort or a wizard. “stop calling me, 'my lord.'” He kept talking to distract himself from seeing Zosa's pain. “Where can we find a healer?”

zosa tried to think but the pain of having his arm jostled and pressed on was too much. 'i...don't know, wish for one?'

Oliver let out a sigh, things just couldn't be simple in this world. His heart already knew it wanted to help Zosa, but part of him didn't want to have to say it out loud since he felt it was his fault for being in the mess. "I wish for a healer." He said, still trying to stop the blood.

of course it had not worked, the other had no time to learn how to make it but zosa was ok with having the other depend on him still, he grabbed the boy's hand with his own bloody one and willed a healer into being

Oliver wasn't sure what Zosa was trying to do, but after he grabbed his hand, there was a loud slam from some place down the alley. The boy turned half expecting more bandits, but instead it was a wobbly young man in a white robe. He smelled a little like to much to drink and came bumbling towards them. Was this the healer? Oliver didn't waste time in finding out. “Hay...” he briefly left Zosa grabbing the man by his robes and pulling him to Zosa's arm. “Can you heal this?” he asked finding his voice coated with relief. The man nodded but mumbled something about cost in a slurry drunken voice.

(oh shit i lost it, quick filler time^^: i cannot do third party for shit)

zosa spoke slowly and jarringly 'we have the funds if you have the ability' he clenched his teeth

( XD; I write to many stories for my friends. They end up having way to many characters. @>@)

The old man begrudgingly walked up to Zosa and took his wounded arm. Oliver could see that time was of the essence but getting the drunken healer to realize this was out of Olivers league. He merely shooed the boy away and pushed away the pile of cloth that Oliver supplied. His eyes widened a little at the wound. He dug around in his belongings and in no time flat he had produced a needle and thread, along with some magic balm. Oliver averted his eyes while the man did his work, finding his instrument to be much more interesting. There was a faint glow that caught his attention but only briefly. As for payment he would have settle that with Zosa, so long as he didn't want Olivers first born child, or something outrageous that fairy tale characters usually wanted.

zosa laid there silently, he supposed he should have acted approriatly for the situation but he was unused to actual pain and the book did not force him so he figured it could be gotten away with. he waited until it was done then from his other pocket side he pulled a small bag of coins, he did not count for he knew there was enough and the drunken healer did not check. the elder wandered away again into the crowed outside of the ally. zosa scooched himself up against a wall and felt his arm, there was no more pain of course but a soothing coolness where the ointment was placed. he flexed the fingers of the once damaged appendage and sighed. he needed to be more careful, if the story got away from him again it could be his lord who might get hurt and that was no good at all. he needed to be more diligent.

Oliver waited until the healer was paid for and had crawled back under what ever rock he wished him from under. He inspected Zosa's wound seeing that it looked decent enough, Oliver took one step back and then angrily punched Zosa in the arm. He looked some what like a bird that had gotten his feathers ruffled and was still riding the adrenaline rush from the fight. Though he wasn't hurt physically, he some what felt like Zosa had lied to him. Story be damned Oliver was not going to stick around to see if the bandits would come back or if Zosa was going to tell another part of the story. He marched out of the alley way and into the hordes of people. He didn't know exactly where to go, but he was a bard now surely that counted for something.

he was shocked when his lord punched him, it didn't hurt in the least but that was not the point. he was assaulted for absolutely no reason. he had no idea the boy blamed him for the book's decision to start the first chapter though he did know the boy was mad at him for something. he chased after the other never losing him in the crowd but not quite being able to catch up. if he had tried he prolly could have but he knew it would be against the other's wishes

( Hee looks like Zosa will still get to murder some one after all, if hes in the mood to save his ungrateful, some what stupid lord again. )

He huffed as he made his way through the streets. His mind was racing over the past few events and what Zosa had told him. If he was indeed trapped in a book then the question became how does one get to chapter two? In majority of the stories he read the first chapter established every thing. He already had a character and Zosa was a knight, though for all good being a bard was. He stopped, it dawned on him that perhaps it was more like a video game, and merely needed to ask others were to go. Oliver however was afraid of being attacked by bandits again. Bravery be damned, Oliver doubled back to the inn where he and Zosa were eating their meal. Curiously he looked around at the people casually picking up the pieces of their lives as if a bar fight were a regular occurrence. The alley was a different story. Down the darken path he saw the shadows of the surviving bandits. Oliver took a deep breath, his fingers clenching and unclenching around the only weapon he owned. Oliver needed a bluff. It was simple, they didn't know what Zosa was no longer with him. “You.” He said announcing his presence. Oliver swiftly kicked the one that appeared the weakest. “Why did you attack me?” He did not notice the other bandit weakly glaring at him with narrowed greedy eyes. The man gave his last breath to answer nothing. Oliver turned to the other fellow. Unaware he was fringing helplessness.

as oliver passed down the dark allyway zosa shivered. chapter two had begun and he was not ready. he wished his sword back and rushed to the mouth. his lord had just kicked one of the remaining bandits. another looked over the lad's shoulder at zosa, zosa wished they could leave this place safely. his wish was granted but not before the book threw one more curve at the two

Oliver turned to see where the Bandit was looking. His gazed at Zosa's unaware that he had made the wish for he and Oliver to leave the place safely. The boy however had no intentions of letting the bandit go with out getting answers. He was too impatient to find them out later and scoffed at Zosa. Turning towards the bandit he made a lunge for the man assuming he was weak and broken from the fight. Oliver repeated his question demanding answers from the bandit. In an instant his eyes turned pure black and he hit Oliver in the head. Oliver rolled off the man yowling at the burning between his brow. The bandit laughed as a dark portal opened beneath his feet. Zosa that they could leave, he didn't say how. The strange bandit made a grab for Oliver once again while the boy was temporarily stunned.

seeingthe portal open beneath his feet he grabbed the back of the boy's cloak. the void sucked them both in. as they fell into the white zosa began to panic. not good, bad, very bad. very, very bad! beyond bad! he could feel his mind begin to unravel, the story was interupted, it was trying to reset.'my lord! oliver....please' he clung to the other next to him. 'wish we were back at the inn, i beg of you..please!' already he was begining to forget about the scuffle in the...in the where...in

For once Oliver just did as he was told. He scrambled to touch a bit of Zosa's bare flesh and made his wish. “I wish that we were back at the end.” He said shakily. They continued to fall through the void as the world reformed around them. Oliver tucked himself into a ball not sure where he was going to land. He felt himself fall on something thick and fleshing, and all around him there was fabric. He cautiously opened one eye and realized he was in a room at the inn and they had landed on a bed. He had landed cradled in Zosa's arm. He was just a little to spooked to ask any questions he simply went back to resting his head on Zosa's chest.

zosa gasped like a fish as the world righted itself once more. he was so very frightened, there was nothing in his limited store of knowledge to have prepared him for such a fate. he quickly made a promise to himself, he would /never/ allow the story to be disrupted again, for while he knew there was no death he did not understand until this moment that there was always a new beginning.

as he laid there though he became aware of the other clung tightly to him their cloaks tangled around them. he began to laugh then, softly but growing. here he was worrying about his own existence when he had sealed the fate of the other. if the boy started over he could have picked a safe way through the book now he was stuck in this version. zosa felt sick

Oliver listened to the sound of Zosa breathing but then he heard him growl. He wondered what was wrong. As far as Oliver knew he had done exactly what Zosa had asked him to do. A little knot of anger formed when he realized that not every thing had been explained to him and he still didn't understand why those men were after him. Oliver pulled himself up and scooted to the edge of the bed. In the room on a table their things had been placed. He couldn't hold on to his anger for long, Zosa was tired and Oliver realized he did not know what to do with out him. With a heavy sigh he moved towards the instrument the story provided for him. His fingers nimbly started to pluck an acoustic version of one of his favorite songs as he sung it.

( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yS_DcqPkEYM ← song )

zosa felt the warm reassuring weight of his lord leave him and a few moments later a soft tune slowly issued from the strings, a sweet soprano came with it, ‘i’m not listening to you, i am wandering right through…’ this part was unintelligible, a sad whisper mumbled through more than sung, ‘…with no purpose and no drive, ‘cause in the end…..’ the tempo plucked up as the other grabbed the lute like a guitar and banged on it angrily. he did not shout the lyrics but he spoke them angrily enough that is was almost as bad and the brutal strum and pick of the instrument conveyed it just as well. when the boy had finished his song he slumped to the floor against the leg, the lute against his legs, he faced zosa but all his attention seemed to be on the strings, he slowly began plucking the melody again. zosa had turned his head to the boy around the time he struck up a din but he had done no more, now he turned his whole upper half towards the bedside and faced oliver, his head resting now on his fingers.


‘once upon a time’ he began, ‘there was a selfish prince.’ he shook his head as oliver looked up at him to interrupt. ‘who wanted to be loved. he wished and wished for one to love but noone came.’ he paused ‘one day the book, having heard the wishes of the prince found playmate for the prince, someone just as lonely, someone who would believe, someone strong, someone with a wish.’ the noise of the lute stopped. ‘once upon a time. there was a prince who was asleep. when he woke up his One True Love touched him and made a wish.’ as the music began up again he began to cry silently. rolling back onto his back he stared through the tears at the ceiling of their shared room. after a few moments of composing himself he spoke again, ‘i need to teach you how to navigate through the world, the rules are simple enough if you’ll hear them, one, to make a wish is to believe it, if you don’t believe it is so then it won’t come true, wishes may be desire but wishes are belief too. two, you cannot skip the story, you must play through the end, if you do not we will have to start over..no, you, you will have to start over, i will disappear.’ he shuddered again at the thought. ‘three you cannot kill me and i cannot kill you but we can both die, dying will start the story all over. finally,’he paused again, ‘if you do not direct the book the story will go on without you so you must be careful of what you wish for and how long you wait in between. the book does not care about you only about the story.’ he was quiet then. certain the other would either not listen or not care

Olivers trembling fingers abandoned his instrument. He reached up to wipe away a dried tear mark from Zosa's cheek. He listened whither the man believed him or not. He learned he shouldn't ask questions, though his mind wondered if Zosa was the prince trapped by his own selfishness or the friend abandoned by the prince. Oliver instantly grew afraid. It was one thing to trust in the unknown, it was another to know it would obliterate you if you deviated from the path it set with out know the path. His face paled and turned away from Zosa at that realization. He bit his lips, the questions in his mind were breeding like fruit files but wasn't sure where he could get the answers with out the book or story getting up set. His fear weld up to frustration which came out in the form of tears. Mostly because he didn't know how to help him or Zosa. Oliver removed his glasses and pretended to clean them, moving from his setting position to pace in a small circle. If his believe and desire truly were his wishes, then his only wish for now was this 'I want something that will help guide me, I do not want Zosa and I to die. Help me know the story so I can get to where I need to be.' Oliver could see the small glow on his chest but he wasn't sure it had any effect. He curled up and sat beside Zosa and asked in a small voice. “What do we do?” his fingers pushed aside the mans hair from his face.

as the other touched his face knowledge of what he had to do welled in his mind, the other two wishes were wasted but the third filled him like a light over a dark valley. he smiled widely and reached to oliver's chin pulling the boy's face to his he whispered excitedly 'we wake up!' and in true fairytale fashion he made a wish, closed his eyes and kissed the other gently on the lips

It was not a white void, he woke up in this time. It was a white comforter. Olivers body bolted up right from a bad dream. He ran his fingers through his hair thinking he was a bard and he had killed his knight. The last thing he remembered was a kiss, and the subtle command to wake up. He pressed two fingers against his lips and moved across the room in his boxers to gaze out the window. His alarm clock blinked at him, its red eyes telling him it was just past 10 am. He opened his curtains to view the world. Soft white drops of snow danced down from the sky. The smell of bacon brought Oliver out of his dream like state. He grabbed a robe pulling it tight around his body as he walked into the kitchen. “Good morning Zosa.” He said looking around for his glasses. He pushed them in place standing beside the man who was cooking breakfast. He leaned in close sheepishly inhaling bacon. It felt so right, but some part of him said it was wrong. He listened to the other voice telling him to accept it, to be happy, to indulge in every thing hes ever wanted. “No, the story...” He said aloud to the voices, but shut himself up at the bewildered look that his roommate gave him. He moved away making up some lie about a creative writing class and went to go look for some orange juice.

he snapped to attention at the words 'the story' he was relieved that the other remembered. he was worried he had made a wrong move. when he had awoken next to the other in a soft room high above the streets of the city where snow was still white and the air breathable he did not understand anything was amiss, he got up put on his glasses, brushed his teeth and made it all the way to opening the package of bacon he found in the fridge before he broke free of the spell. he was relieved to find the other was safe as well. he turned off the stove and went over to the fridge where the other was busy looking for something, he saw there was juice in the back of the fridge leaning in just close enough that their shoulders touched he turned to the other and whispered 'my arm will never scar now my lord' and pecked the other on the cheek, grabbing the drink he shook it slightly and grinned at the other who followed his movements 'slow boys get no juice only hard tap water' he all but skipped across the kitchen where he knew the glasses were kept

He spun around watching Zosa's movements with alarm. Being hurt, that was in his dream. He pushed his messy hair out of his face and grinned. “How many times do I have to tell you, my name isn't my lord, its Oliver.” he narrowed his eyes playfully. While Zosa had abandoned his post over the frying pan Oliver felt free to grab himself a piece while the other hand rubbed the side of his face trying to stop the tingling sensation of the kiss. His lips pursed into a grim line. “Zosa when did you get hurt?” He said turning a worried look towards him.

Oliver left the bacon and went to Zosa, taking a cup from his fingers. His other hand moved to touch his bicep. A jolt of familiarity trickled down Oliver's spine. He found himself saying “I'm sorry, it was all my fault.” He kissed the fabric that concealed the spot where the wound should have been. Oliver didn't remember why he should have been apologizing, he just did. Every thing he spoke now felt as if it was coming from his heart. “I'm glad your with me.” He chuckled “Who else would cook me breakfast and forgive me for sleeping in and give me juice.” Behind his glasses, his eyes turned into huge pleading puppy dog saucers.

'hurt? i cannot recall' his brow wrinkled slightly, oliver was not quite there yet. he did not realize it had taken him the better part of ten minutes to righten and that his lord had less than half that. he continued the banter however 'as many times as you will have to tell me to stop telling stories' he sat down with his glass of orange juice and pulled the comic section from a pile of newspapers

With his juice in hand he went back to check on the meat. “But I like your stories. I am looking forward to a nice Christmas story, where the hero learns how to be selfless and give un to others. Its the best lesson to learn this season.” He flipped the bacon over while drinking the juice. “Its cliché, I know but they make for the cutest ones, especially if there's a kiss at the end.” Oliver turned the stove off searching around the room for plates. He served up an even amount for each of them before joining Zosa at the table. Oliver simply couldn't over come his basic bardic character idea. He started to lightly sing a Christmas carol doing a much better job then the radio who played them non stop this time of year.

'you would make a better bard than a writer i think' zosa said all but dropping the sublty. if the book grew impaitent there'd be worse issues than a little confusion.

Oliver stopped himself mid chew. It wasn't a dream was it. He dropped the rest of his breakfast knowing that it was too good to be true. He opened his mouth to yell at Zosa but he shouldn't have been angry at him, especially since it seemed that Zosa was trapped just like him. The question was, was Zosa ever real in the first place. “What does the story want us to do to get to the next chapter.” He asked. He was tired of playing the stories guessing game and decided on the direct approach. If Zosa didn't tell him then he would wish for it using the power of belief.

'that...is something i can't say, the book does not work that way it only cares if /something/ happens and chapters only end when a natural break in the story happens. so any given chapter can be very long or very short and still be valid, though a chapter end can be forced like in the last one' he blushed a little, he had not asked before he did it and though he did not know why it was so he had a felling he had done something wrong in not asking 'i am sorry that is not helpful, and i am sorry i am too late to tell you when thing are happening, i try to say as soon as i know but i too must follow the storyline.' he paused 'to tell the truth i..' he paused midsentance. 'i think we should continue this another time the book is growing more impatient with us as time goes on. already it's wanting something to happen and the last two times it desired we ended up in trouble'

“The book is growing impatient? Then the book should tell us what it wants?” Oliver yelled folding his arms in front of his chest. “I have never read a book with that was so ambiguous yet so restricted.” He growled loosing his appetite for the food. He left the table going back to the room he woke up in. He searched around until he found some decent enough clothing. He mused at the idea that the book was in fact the prince or at least his soul. His feet eventually settled into a pacing movement trying to decide what to do. He drew a breath and whispered “I'm sorry Zosa.” Oliver grabbed his instrument and escaped through the window climbing down the fire escape into the snowy streets below. As he walked his mind thought about the previous story. He paused when he got to the main street wondering if there was such thing as a modern fairy tale?

(actually i am very much the book's attempt /at/ a soul, i am a wish born)



he knew the other had left though he did not know why he had gone, he wanted to follow the bandits in the ally being a very good reason to but he knew the other would not be pleased, he took a moment and desided that though he would try not to interfere he could not leave the other alone. he took to the windo and opening it up to the cold winter sky he flew as a bird into the dawning day after his lord

( Ah okay... XD.. okay. hmm then Oliver will have to teach the wish the meaning of free will. )

Oliver did not notice Zosa closing in on him. He had come to the conclusion that the prince, that Zosa told him about, was some where in the story physically controlling it. He paused in the snow. Believe... He took a deep breath rubbing his hands together. “I wish to meet the creator of the book...” He said getting bewildered glances from people as they passed by. “And the person it was created for.”

he felt another useless wish. he could not see how the boy did not understand /he/ was the creator, he was in control, even as he was bound, as zosa was bound, to follow the rules he so greatly desired despite actions to speak otherwise. zosa wanted to tell him, as he had tried to tell him before, but the other did not understand his own powers and did not believe in his own greatness and his own purity. he desired greatly to crawl into the boy's heart and explain everything but he was limited to telling only what was asked ad the other was prone to not asking in the right way and not listening when he occasionally did. zosa swooped closer his brown plumage only slightly out of place


(and zosa will have to suffer the emotions of a boy with a severe listening problem hahaha)

Oliver just didn't understand. He followed Zosa's instructions and yet He didn't see any one come up to him. Angrily he grabbed the crystal around his neck and tugged it over his head throwing it into the soft snow. He shivered in the snow pursing his lips into a thin line. He found himself making the wish that created the book in the first place. The hairs on the back of his neck alerted him to Zosa's presence. He jumped stumbling slightly into soft white fluffy snow.

( Lol, I think he thinks that Zosa is trapped with him rather then the creator. )

he watched the other toss the gem into a small snowbank piled to the side, he didn't smirk when the necklace promptly materialized back on the boy's neck, he was growing wearing of this temper tantrum not only because it confused him so but because there was no seeming end to it. wit a flutter his wings turned back into fabric and he was once more as he was before. he reached out to take the shoulder of the other to once again give comfort but was shocked when the other pulled from his grasp and took off in the other direction.

Once he pulled away Oliver ran. He wasn't sure where is feet were taking him but they just kept moving. He picked up speed unaware that the world, his wish was melting around him returning to the white void, before long there was nothing but snow. Oliver slowed his running, his feet awkwardly tumbling into a walk before he started up a run again. I just wanted to write my paper. He thought cursing himself. Around him the city turned into green blurs, and Oliver realized he was no longer wearing shoes. That made him stop. His lute was now a small harp, and around his head there was a reef. Now Oliver really wanted Zosa to be with him. He needed something to make sense. Olivers feet led him to something he thought was a city. If he wasn't mistaken it was ancient Greece... or Rome.

he found himself in a child's version of greece, the heat and dust was lacking and there were no people but the sun shone down and the earth was warm under his sandels, he felt the boy come before he saw him turn the corner

As he walked he had all but forgotten about his previous anguish. His idle feet turned to watch a craftsmen gingerly painting a vase. He was mostly trying to show a younger boy how it was done but the boy appeared very jaded at the lesson. The sight didn't hold Olivers attention span for long, he quickly moved on following the people in the streets. They were all taking things and traversing to a large temple.

the other was coming closer, he wondered why he was brought here to stand at the face of a temple dressed in white under the sun, he felt as if he should be a statue, something worshiped, he wondered what he needed to be