The Boy and the Beast

It was early morning, and the soft rays of the sun shone through the windows of the captain's chamber. This room of his was one of many in the house that had been built on Pirate Island specifically for the crew. Security detail or not, this was pretty fancy living for Sal. It had plenty of rooms to house the current members of the crew, with room for growth (which was always nice), and best of all, it was isolated, for the most part. It had been but a couple of days since the crew had moved to South City to work for Brigadier General Brighton, and the specifics of the contract were to be decided upon very soon, possibly even on that very morning, or at least, during that first week. There was no true wildlife to speak of on this small island, save for the birds that stopped there on their way to some place further away. It was as though no living creature could or would make its home on this humble island out of fear for the beast that lived there. The bears of the frozen tundra were already missed by said beast, who went by the name of Salazar Masu, or, in the case of the intimidating entity, Gluttony.

The captain himself had been awake long before, making his daily rounds. Of course, his "daily rounds" consisted of taking a trip to the kitchen to grab whatever extra food he could find. That particular morning there wasn't much to find, other than what the crew needed until their next trip for groceries, so with a disheartened sigh, he began to make his way back to his room. Having been used to the plethora of refreshments available to him on the Ole Miss, this sudden change of surroundings and the lack of available prey that came with it was far from comforting. He had to find some way to please the many parts of him that weren't human, as they seemed to be surging both physically and mentally during this recent change. Such a change, in fact, that it felt a bit surreal to the boy. He had gone on trips to different places before (most of them within the country's boundaries), but the weight of the situation had just begun to sink in. This was to be his new home, where his ship laid anchor and his crew their heads to rest, where people swarmed the streets like fish in the rain. Already he longed for the cold, wintry North and the calm, quiet streets that graced the few towns it had. In fact, he willed for the sun to sink back into the horizon, and for the moon to rise, reversing the flow of time.

Dragging himself back into his bed, the small pirate captain suddenly felt heavy and exhausted. Not even thoughts of his favorite pastry could relieve him of this sudden grief. It began to consume him, sucking him dry of his energy and his will to do anything at all anymore. As the sun rose, the beast crawled into the darkness of its cave, the walls wet and cold. Steadily sinking, the light seemed to escape from his world as he pulled the heavy covers over his head. His eyes began to sting and redden, the salty moisture irritating them. Choking back the cries that seemed inevitable, he began to travel back to the moonlit hunts, once again a silent hunter, only to be yanked back into the watery surroundings of the current. Air left his body erratically, his lungs seeming to collapse in a painful heap. The fist of truth pressing down on him, he gripped the fabric of the dark world, digging his fangs into its core. Wrestling with this new dimension, everything around him seemed to evaporate, leaving miniscule traces behind. Only the boy and the suffocating darkness remained.

Suddenly a presence, so perverse in nature that it turned the stomach, broke through the barriers and seemed to mock the very essence of the boy. Its claws pierced his very soul, its eyes staring through to his mind. No thought, no movement, nothing could escape the senses of the beast. The darkness called out to it, teasing it softly. A laugh, so sinister, so evil, so inhuman that it echoed with dread, rang in the captain's ears.


Chills ran down his spine, and he could feel his entire body shaking with dread. His entire being screamed with the urge to run, but his legs had grown numb. The beast cackled horrendously, its eye becoming visible in the blackness.



". . .You. . .I'm. . . starving?"



"I. . .N-NO!" Sal's arms began to move, but not on his own accord - the beast, the beast with no face, was it making him do this? His numb legs began to move, and he walked towards the eye that broke the darkness. Fangs ripped through the black, murky floor, surrounding him.



The floor vanished from under his feet, and the boy was sent plummeting deeper into the darkness. He cried out, but nobody was going to be able to save him. Nobody could hear him, see him. The fall was endless, and there was no hope in sight. Beast had conquered boy, his number was up. He was mercilessly slung around and consumed by black.


The light burned the eyes of the beast, whose disguise was flawless. Fluffy white hair, a gentle, brown complexion, and those unmistakable white cat ears and tail. The only difference lie in the face - where once an aloof expression was placed, a twisted, sinister grimace now stood. Eyes sharper than the fanged mouth that was pulled into a lustful grin, hands as his sides, ready to strike down whatever came his way. Staggering, he pulled out of the maze of cloth, sliding to the floor with a heavy thud. The graceful captain had been replaced by an ever-hungering beast. Just when it seemed that the beast had found a way out, there was a tugging at his consciousness.

"But. . . But how? It can't. . ."

His vision blurred. Unwillingly, the beast made his way to the door, but managed to overpower this sudden surge of control, locking himself in the room. He let himself fall to the floor, his consciousness fighting the pull.


The boy? How was he fighting back? This....this wasn't possible! "Impossible! You can't control me. . .I am the one whose hunger can never be satisfied! I am GLUTTONY!" He tried to push back the sensation, push back the force that he had thought was conquered. A low, menacing growl escaped his curled lips. An image flashed in his mind: A person. Who was it? This person... A man with short, white hair, and brown skin. Red eyes...and a stern face. Why? Who was that? The image made his head ache, but why? How was this possible? Maybe it was this person that gave the boy his strength? Yet there was another man - blonde, this time - and another, with black hair. So many of them! Why was he seeing them like this?! A grunt, and he felt himself fade, being thrust back into the darkness from whence he came.


"I...You...I won't let you hurt them!" The boy cried, breathing heavily. This was a fight like no other, and it drained him of his physical and his mental energy, leaving him exhausted and running on nothing but willpower alone. He didn't want to let that monster take over, he could feel its thoughts as though they were his own. This was a fight that only he could fight, and he had to do it...He had to do it for the people he cared about.


The boy let out a tired whimper, holding his head in pain. It was too late, the beast was already angry, and Sal could feel it...He felt the anger, the despair, the hunger. All he could do to stay in control was to think about why he absolutely had to. For Xanthus, his brother, and for his crew! What would happen to them? How would they feel?


The push and the pull, the lifting and the releasing, it was like hot and cold. First the boy pushed himself to his limits, then the beast would fight its way out. It was a war, a battle so largely important, yet it went unnoticed. It went on for hours, and those hours turned into days. All of that time, the body never stepped foot out of the captain's chamber. In their conflict, they seemed to starve the vessel that they both wanted to lay claim to. It wasn't until the fifth day of the conflict between the boy and the beast that a point had been reached when they could no longer fight. Amazingly, the force that allowed the boy to survive the fight for this long was his attachment to those people in his life that he cherished so greatly. It was this that gave him the will to pull through.


"Father? Homunculuses have fathers?"


Thus began a thorough explanation of the past, and how Father had come and gone. Who he was, what he stood for, and how me intended to get what he wanted. In exchange, the boy told the beast how he came about. Unable to fight, they had unofficially, yet mutually agreed to a truce. The beast had been tamed by the boy.


It was the morning of the 8th day of the boy and the beast locking themselves in the captain's chamber. While there was still tension between them, it was generally understood that the beast could only have his fun when it wasn't a direct threat or directly near anyone that the boy knew. That was simply the way it was. It was purely for survival, as a body that starved was going to die off, and even a homunculus only had so many lives before dying off completely. Despite the connection of the boy's stomach and the homunculus' gate, the body still managed to get some nourishment out of the foods and the drinks that were put in it. Weakly, Sal got to his feet, and wobbled toward his door. After unlocking it, it took a bit of effort to loosen the hinges and get the slab of wood to open up a pathway to the rest of the house.

"First thing's first...we need to eat," Sal stated unnecessarily. It was a pretty obvious statement, and Gluttony certainly agreed, so Sal walked toward the kitchen, exhausted. Pulling what was left of the milk out of the refrigerator, he sat in the nearest chair and began to chug. His ears twitched as he heard a sound...It was the sound of someone coming his way...

"Who's there?" the voice of Gluttony sounded.

OOC: *.* *can't fathom the awesomeness of Sal's post*


Xanthus Icarus was resting and relaxing within the confines of his home in Central, finding himself absentmindedly day dreaming as he lay upon his bed, staring up at the ceiling, where his eyes were greeted rather predictably by a dark-greyish colored surface. Thoughts were jumping around in his mind about his soon-to-be self exile from Amestris, and he found that he could not resist thinking about all that he would be leaving behind in the near future. Truth be told, he was not overly concerned with objects or properties, which could be (and would be) easily replaced by larger and grander things.

No, Pride found himself having a rather human moment as his dark red eyes shifted from point to point in his rather spacious room. He would probably not be returning to Amestris for quite some time, and never again quite as 'freely' as last time. And if he could not return to Amestris, then of course that meant that seeing or even communicating with family and friends that lived there would be quite a chore, if it were even possible at all. "Hmm...actually, Murazar and Lyte will be rather easily reached. The real problem is..."

With a sigh, Xanthus rolled out of his bed and stalked over to his closet, and opened it with a grand flourish that was hardly necessary. From this space, he pulled out a pair of black pants that were carelessly thrown onto the bed behind him, a crisp white shirt that was equally launched and a belt, a pair of recently shined black shoes, his favorite black jacket, a pair of white boxer briefs and a certain neck ornament that he had acquired on his last trip to Ishval, all of which were sent flying to the bed in an equal fashion as they were selected. His clothing selection so gracefully chosen, Icarus stepped back out of the closet and ventured towards what appeared to be a safe, opened said safe, and removed its contents: his twin swords, which were thrown (sheath and all) atop his clothes. After a satisfied nod, Xan stripped himself down with equal grace and flung himself into the nearest source of shower water available to him and took a long, steaming-hot shower as he thought to himself about the only member of his apparently growing family that he might have trouble contacting in the future.

By the time that shower time was over, Xanthus had thoroughly made up his mind; he was going down to South City, and he was going to go see his little brother. Damn the fact that the island was apparently off-limits except on certain permissions, he was technically a Brigadier General for a while longer and he was going to use that power for once!

That thought in mind, Xanthus wrapped a towel around his waist to cover his pride and walked over to his iPhone with a new light in his dark eyes, which were currently hidden behind a curtain of dripping silver-white bangs. He pressed a few buttons and was soon making phone calls that would get him onto Pirate Island within the next few days...



Xanthus had approached the front door of the Pirates' home with something bordering on amusement on his face; he still could not quite believe that Sal had somehow moved his entire ship to South City. How was that even possible? Then again, was he even one to talk about possible? A human-homunculus hybrid with unbreakable swords strapped to his back that could cut through any known material? With his head shaking in mild disbelief and his lips forming the word 'incredible,' Xanthus walked to the front door of the Pirates 'house' and knocked lightly on the door. There was no answer from the inside. After some time had passed, Xanthus tried the door-knob and found that the door swung open rather easily, having been apparently left unlocked.

'Well, I guess that when you live on a private island you can leave doors unlocked if you so choose.' Xanthus thought to himself as he stepped inside the abode and began to head for the kitchen, the first place he would have thought of Sal being. As the reward for his guessing skills, the voice of Salazar Masu rang from within the kitchen, though something seemed to be just the slightest bit off, not that Xanthus himself visibly noticed anything.

"No one special Sal, just Xanthus Icarus, the one and only, coming to check up on you. Thought you might like some hang-out time today."

The older Ishvallan leaned himself against the door-frame of the kitchen and looked down at Sal, who was apparently just finishing a decent chugging of milk. Somehow, the words 'got milk?' just did not seem to be appropriate right at the moment, so Xanthus simply let the comment die in his throat and be replaced by some other words, which formed just as he noticed that something seemed...different about Sal in a way that he could not quite describe.

"You alright little brother?" He asked Sal with an expression of mild concern present on his face.