White I - Avalbane
I stared bleakly at the blood on my palms, wondering why Indivar's were always empty of filth; so unlike mine. So fucking clean. I could've been just like any other human with a spine and been bitter, or hated him for it. Too bad I'd lost my cold shoulder the second I bled on him.

The knife on the ground quivered as Rory came running down the stairs in a quick pace. Unfortunately, he'd heard of the mishap going on downstairs, and it was his place to take action whenever anything did occur. Pushing me off of Indivar, he tugged a cloth away from the sink. To his surprise, of course, it wasn't Indivar that was necessarily wounded. With his eyes lowering slowly to my stomach, he threw the rag at me and dropped the blood-splattered arm he'd been holding in the air. Muttering a weak apology, he stared at my sopping front. Apparently, it didn't matter that I was hurt, so he headed back upstairs to his room. It was only the fact that Indivar had made a noise of displeasure when he'd grappled my bloody apron from my body that had brought Rory near. It had caught me off guard, too, as I hadn't felt anything painful or piercing to follow or lead it.

"Oh…" I made a sound of recognition to the noticing of Indivar's horror. His bloody arm was shaking on the floor beside him, and…my bloody hands soaked into the material of my plain white t-shirt. "I'm sorry, Indivar, I'll do the laundry this week, if it's not a problem with y-"

"Don't be pathetic, Avalbane! You're bleeding!" he shouted, slapping me on the shoulder as he crouched at my side and dove his fingers towards my wound.

"Indivar, don't!!!" Just in time, I'd gripped his hands, though realizing that my efforts to keep him clean were then useless, as my hands were covered in blood anyway. "Shit…" I moaned, knotting my toes and pulling my hands away from him. Again, this resulted further in a mess, as he'd fallen over my soaking body. "Indivar…" I sighed, "I'm so sorry…"

"Ugh, just…shut up! There you go again with your ridiculous apologies!" he screamed, his hands in mid-air as to keep the blood away from anything else. I'm going to get you to a hospital…" He spoke again in a softer voice, much more like the boy I'd known. Grinning, I took his outstretched hand. It wasn't like him at all to be so upset, and direct with me, but it felt good that he'd been honest.

My mind hadn't gripped reality too well, I feared, because he seemed to be acting what would be called 'rational,' whereas I seemed to think it was odd of him. I hadn't obviously considered the situation we were in. Most people would freak out if they'd been mistakenly stabbed in the stomach by a knife, but the pain hadn't even hit me. Was anything ever a mistake when things like this happened, anyway?

"Rory!" he shouted, making me wince at the sharp sound his screams could make. "Come back here!"

Rory…he would be of no help, but as long as Indivar convinced him to help me out, I could get a chance at staying…alive, or at least, healthy, as I called it. The two didn't mix, but Rory had his reasons to be obsessed with Indivar. I wasn't sure I wanted to be let in on those reasons just yet, as I assumed we would all remain at least our friendship, since most of us weren't virgins anymore. But I had to admit that I didn't know half as much about these strange (not that I have any place to call someone else strange) people, aside from their many differences that were pointed out alone by their appearances and habits. I still didn't feel like I fit in among the strange, which I found to be a surprise, even if I hadn't fit in with any of the so-called 'losers' in school, either. College still had its gifts I was hoping would be opened at one point, because there hadn't been much to miss out on in class or out of class.

At the call of his whistle, Rory was downstairs in a heartbeat, and I think he intentionally gripped my hair in a less than friendly way as he picked me up and hauled me over his shoulder. He grumbled the entire time about how I shouldn't bleed on people…to have some courtesy. It was a little ironic. All I remembered about the ride home, though, was that Ivindar was trying to keep me awake most of the time. I'd been feeling faint, and didn't want to hear anyone else's voice, or the car rumbling down the road. I just remember wanting to sleep, and how comfy it was; how happy I was that I could finally remember the drowsy feeling of drifting off into a peaceful sleep. Rory had kept quiet in the front…I at least could recall that. He was probably angered at the fact that he wasn't being fussed over like he usually was.

Yet, I did fade away, at least for a little while. Fala was there. My guardian. The one that made me pick up the knife, because he knew what was best for me. And this time, his eyes followed me as I stepped across his desert of black and white ash. There was nothing there, just as he had nothing to give to the area. They complimented each other in an absurd way; offering sweet nothings and only a piece of silence to each other.

My eyes must have risen to the antlers of roots above his dusty black hair, but he said nothing of it. The knowing look in his eyes didn't tell me he was worried about the way I observed his world. So I fawned over his lengthy legs, with only a long cloth flapped over the material that surrounded his abdomen. More cloth reciprocated behind him, nearly reaching his feet, its threads dragging on the molten ground. The skirt was patterned by quilted diamonds and lines at the rims, but the design was frayed from the rays of the desert, and the sand. My feet sunk into that same sandy ash, my toes crunching into its thick, but malleable matter with satisfaction. You couldn't get this sand anywhere on earth, even though rocks pierced my soles more than a thrusting knife did to my stomach in reality.

Was this the reality I'd been looking for…? Was my other world at home the fake? I gave a questioning glance in Fala's direction, but he smugly fastened his heavy scarf atop his nose, tugging a wide portion back from over his shoulder and tossing it across his chest. That scarf had been wound around his neck, hiding his expression since I could last remember meeting Fala. Even in times when he would completely undress to bathe, he would keep that scarf on. That wasn't the only thing he kept on, either. There was a crow; one that almost seemed artificial, because it never flew from his arm or left his shoulder. A wife or husband would be jealous of that thing, because I wasn't sure whether the two would ever get time alone because of it. But Fala didn't need a husband or wife; nor did he need a partner. Fala was a lone wolf.

"White boy," he finally cooed, and I lifted my head a bit to stare again. At times I couldn't draw my eyes from his beautiful face or his graceful seven foot tall frame, but he would quickly wake me up did I ever get carried away. "Come closer." His orders seemed to only please me, though it may have had something to do with the fact that I could never see his smile at all.

My foot pounded against the ground when I first walked, almost surprising me, though it always did so. My jaw seemed to snap into one rigid position as I continued walking, the pebbles crunching into my feet as always. I ignored the grotesque feeling of my blood spreading over the rocks and reached my arm out to his outstretched hand. Why…I could never reach him before…

"Ave! Oh, thank God…I thought you weren't waking up. Don't scare us like that again," Ivindar smiled appreciatively, but my eyes still scattered around for the second party to 'us'. Soon, I caught sight of Rory asleep in the corner of the hospital room in a cushioned wicker chair, and nodded.

"Not losing any sleep over it, at least…" I mumbled aloud, sitting up in the bed to find a rather uncomfortable prick at my arm. "G…ahhh…I can feel it, now." My stomach had positively been stabbed; that was evident. The second I'd swung upright, my muscles clenched tight, and I groaned, my hand falling to the crimson stain on the gown over my body. Ivindar smiled with a hint of sympathy showing somewhere in the tilt of his eyebrows. "How long do I have to stay in this shit hole?" I suddenly asked, collapsing back onto the bed again.

No one answered me, and that was a bad sign when you were in a hospital. I cringed as I lifted my gown carefully above the wound. It was covered in bandages, but I could see the crimson leaking slightly through. They hadn't tended to it much, or they would've replaced it. Just as soon as the thought seemed to come into my mind, a nurse entered, and Indivar stepped over next to Rory. This would've been his moment of glory, had he been awake, so I smirked cynically as the nurse approached. My grin was soon wiped from my face for a shout of pain as she tore the bandage from my body and rubbed antiseptic over the wound. Clenching my fingers into the sheets, I closed my eyes tight as the bandage was soon replaced with another one. Given time to calm me down, the nurse then smiled and headed out of the room, stating that the doctor would be in soon to check up on me. I prayed it wouldn't be as worse as my visit had been just then.

Fala shook his head, a slender leg propping up on the stone pedestal he sat atop. The crow at his wrist pecked into his lifeless palm, digging at the scabs it had already left once before. Why did he let it treat him that way? Unless he wanted it. He loved the crow, and its black, sleek feathers, and even its dull beak digging into his scarred flesh. I loved Fala and his body. It was a chain of something I don't think any three of us understood. But that was ridiculous. Fala knew absolutely everything. Falling upon his chest, my eyes recalled the scratches on his right, and I frowned, biting my lip for a short moment. I'd given him those scars, because I was born from that same place; his soul. I was born from his soul and I am his child in this…place. His halo lowered as he bowed his head, cracking his neck as he swung it in separate directions.

"Fala," I whispered, though I felt as if I was speaking out of place. He'd always addressed me first. Fortunately, he hadn't seemed to notice a difference, and lifted his head, the dark around his eyes penetrating my gut.

"I allow you pain." The granting he'd given me was something I didn't even expect from his lips. There was only supposed to be pain in this world, but now I knew that was why I could feel back there. That was why the tear of the bandages ripping from my flesh had stricken me unconscious; so he could remind me that it was his work. "White boy…want a kiss?"

"Please…" I groaned, rolling onto my side and squinting as my room came into focus. It was still day time, which explained why it had been dim when I was with Fala. At night, there would be no wind, no sandstorms, and the moon would sit in the black sky above Fala's pedestal. Sometimes he wouldn't be there, but it didn't take long for him to arrive soon after.

"Okay." Ivindar took my palm in his hand after agreement and ran it over my stomach. My eyes struck open at the soft feeling that followed, instead of the coarse bumps of scabs across my body. There was nothing.

Rolling across my bed, I let my feet hit the hardwood floor. There was no laundry scattered across it as there usually was, and the laundry appeared to be neatly stacked on top of my desk when I searched for it. The dark blue on the walls was interrupted by the sun coming through the window, brightening its hue and adding a glow to the wide painting that stretched over my desk. Flowers and cards also decorated it, and I squinted to find that most or all of them were to 'Get Well'. I wonder if I ever will get better, or if this is Fala's idea of better. Whatever…he says.

End of White I
Author's Note
I was inspired by a lot of things to start writing this story. I'd like to give thanks to rache-engel because without him, I'm not sure I would've ever gotten around to making anything from Fala and his original character. I don't feel like I stole anything from you, because one, it wasn't a character to start with, and two, it merely inspired me to create the character that had been in my dreams a long time ago, but was still sleeping. I think he's awake now. Your imagery helped me create a character, though, I'll say. Hmm. But I suppose this wasn't about Fala, was it? Let's see…White…Avalbane? No, I don't think it was. In fact, I'm certain it was about Avalbane, and his illness, and his interactions with Fala, his guardian from the world in his dreams. He's lucky he has one that speaks to him in every dream. I think I only saw Fala couple of times in my own sleep. Next, though, I'd like to thank Coheed & Cambria, though obviously they won't be reading this any time soon. Their album art and songs also helped create more imagery for me and express how I saw everything in my head through words. I really recommend giving that band a try, because they blow my mind. The album I've been listening to was "Good Apollo I'm Burning Star IV, Vol.1: From Fear Through The Eyes of Madness". And God, I think that's the longest album title EVER. In any case, though, I'm really enjoying this story so far.

Would it kill you guys if I removed a few stories for now…? Just some I consider myself to have been working on for too long or need to rethink/think about the plot for? Uhh. Either way, I probably will. Don't worry, though; the stories aren't going away or being deleted from my computer. I'm sure I'll find something to do with them. I just feel like starting on clean slate, and I'm not sure how to do that with this old material on my back, so I need to figure it out before I have a meltdown.

Also, if you're confused…well, you know, you should be, because I tend to make all of my stories confusing at the beginning. But with an outlook from each member of the house guaranteed in the future, you might figure out more than you wanted to know in the first place, so I wouldn't lose sleep over it or anything. Questions? Hmm. I think the next POV may come from a character I haven't chosen yet. Otherwise, I'll choose Indivar. I don't think we're quite ready for Rory's firing thoughts yet.

You'll notice, too, that the characters will all have a color next to their name…and the chapter titles will have a roman numeral after them. I can't believe this, but yes, that means they'll all have more than one turn with the steering wheel. This test of character strength and development might actually go somewhere, eh? So. On that note, I hope you know that this story isn't entirely of plot, but much of character. Each character's name will usually originate from the meaning of a color, with minor exceptions.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and look forward for more as soon as I can get to it! I might post a chapter or something else first, however, or a one-shot to make up for my pathetic absences.


Note: If you're wondering what Indivar or Rory's colors are…they're as follows.

Rory: Red

Indivar: Blue

(Though I used pretty much all the songs from the Coheed & Cambria album, I'll list the ones that I considered to have the most impact.)

Welcome Home – Coheed & Cambria

Apollo I: The Writing Writer – " "

Once Upon Your Dead Body – " "

Lying Lies & Dirty Secrets of Miss Erica Court – " "

Mother May I – " "

Willing Well III: Apollo II: The Telling Truth – " "

Willing Well IV: The Final Cut – " "

Seduction – He Is Legend

Bury the Hatchet – Protest The Hero

To Be Alone With You – Surfjan Stevens (thanks Kaley)

Friends Long Absent Are Coming Back To You – To Kill A Petty Bourgeoisie (creepy band; worth the listen)

Saosin Demo - Saosin