Christian is wearing a long sleeved shirt. Can we guess why?

The black fishnet had been under a red shirt with a parental advisory print on the back. It had been thirty-five cent at the Salvation Army off of Elm Street. Now he was just wearing the fishnet shirt, but it was still doing it’s job.

His brother’s had skipped classes today but Christian hadn’t, he’d had a test in one of the classes that he unfortunately didn’t have with his brothers, (which wouldn’t really matter since the classes he does have with them half the time Moonshine skipped and some of the time so did Gin). He’d made the mistake, however, of going straight home to get his skates after school. Chris was home. And Chris was drunk. Christian also glimpsed some long blond hair and a naked back when he’d tried to sneak past the room quietly to get to his room. He should have just left right then and there. Chris beat the shit out of him. Usual. Today’s reason: The school called and said Gin and Moonshine skipped. You probably provoked it to make me angry with them. Now, that didn’t make since, but Chris’ logic wasn’t meant to make sense. It was meant to demean the boys and try to turn them against each other.

Tonic had endured the beating without tears and minimale struggling, and then he’d gone to the room he shared with his brothers. He dumped his school things out of the bag, except what he’d need for homework, and stuffed one of his many notebooks, a few pencils, and a little baggy of pot into the back pack, dropped it and his skates out of the window, and dug out the fishnet shirt to cover the bruises he’d be getting. The bruises from two days ago had begun to fade only to be replaced. He got out three single bills and some quarters, stuck it all into his pocket, and climbed out the window.

Now he’s at the skate park. His brother’s had learned by now that if Tonic wasn’t in the library he was bound to be here on the ramps. And he was. In pants hazardous to skaters with their many zippers, rings, and straps just waiting to get caught on something. The pants sagged low on his hips, leaving about two inches between the waitline and his fishnet shirt. There were many scars covering that small area of exposed flesh, one deep, big messy scar running the length of his side, over the top of his hip bone, and down into his pants. The shirt was long sleeved, his wrists laced with braclets, three watches, two loops of beads, and just junk jewelry for males and females in general. He’s too thin, underweight, and his left wrist is wrapped in a fresh brown ace bandage, braclets beaded over top of it. There’s three band-aids over his chin and jaw line where he was cut by Chris’s ring, a bigger band-aid at his neck. He had bruises forming over one eye, beneath one ear at the jaw, a split lip, and a bruise forming near the corner of his lip.

His hair is messy, cut two inches short and sticking up in every direction, blonde with sun streaks. His bangs, however, are as long as his lips and chin and they hang directly down the front of his face, hiding most of his face. How can he see?

He’s been on the vert for half an hour, other boys standing around watching, on skates, holding their skate boards. They’re patient, he’s a great skater so it’s a good show, besides that, most of them have learned the kid is hard. Eventually he’ll fall, and when he does, it’ll be a good, hard wipe out that’ll keep the kid off the ramp for a while and give others a chance. Which he does right about now. Wipe out that is. He’s gone up into a hand plant at the top of the seventeen foot pipe and his bruised arm couldn’t hold his and his skates weight. He fell downward first, hit his forehead on the coping, fell backwards until his body hit the ramp, and then slid down and rolled onto his back. He didn’t get up but just lay there, staring dully at the top of the half-pipe.

“Fuck.” Soft word from him.

“Dude, you alright?”

“Hey man? Can ya sit up?”

"Need some help, kid?"

A lot of noisy teenage male voices, skaters gathering around to see how much damage this wipeout made. His forehead is bleeding just above the eyebrow with two piercings. Could he dit up? Was he alright? He was too tired to move, felt to weak and beaten, by Chris and by himself. He closed his eyes now. He wanted Moonshine. He wanted Gin. He wanted his brothers to come and tell him he was alright like they always did. It's bad enough he so often ached for them, but now he hurt, and he desperatly wanted them there now. Enough to cry.

Tonic collected his thoughts, his fingers pulling the sleeve of his fishnet, then concentrated.

Moonshine? Gin? Where are you guys? Even his thoughts sounded weak and tired.

Strange, humans were so very strange. Cecily was walking barefoot through the city. She came to no harm from it, and she got to watch people react to it.

She was wearing a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a red t-shirt. Her hair was in her face, but she as usual didn't much care.

She was near the skate park. She knes what it was, but had never gone. She wanted to understand the adult humans before even trying to fathom the adolescents ones. From what she gathered the adolescent ones were eeven less likely to be mentally balanced than the adults. They would hardly make a good control gorup for her observations.

Still today something drew her to the skate park. A voice calling for moonshine and gin. She hasn't picked up on the fact tehy are names. She believes someone is demanding alcohol. albeit weakly.

She locates the source and moves towards it. She looks rather simple but something about he demands respect. Everyone clears a path for her until she reaches Tonic's side.

"You are hurt." she says in that emotionless voice of hers. It is simply a statemetn of fact.

"He uh...fell," answered one of the boys lamely.

Tonic opened his eyes, knowing that voice wasn't either of his brothers. He'd not felt them near anyways, and normally, he could somehow sense them coming. This wasn't his brother's, it was a girl. He blinked and closed his eyes. Hurt? What would Moonshine or Gin say? Moonshine would no doubt have some smart ass comment. Maybe Gin would say 'obviously.' But then, his brother's would have been smart enough not to do something so stupid anyways. Maybe.

But he wasn't like them. He was weak and he knew it. And he only nodded to her statment and reopened his blakened eyes. The bruises were turning dark. He was rather resembling a racoon. He tried again.

Moonshine? Gin?

"Perhaps they are too far. You are calling someone?" she projected it gently into his mind. She knew he could recieve it, she could not do such things to any mere mortal. She crouched down and scooped him up. "Not all of this damage is recent." she said outloud she carried him to a nearby picnic table and sat him down. "Do you have belongings I should retrieve while you sit here and rest?" she asked him still in that strangely empty voice.

She should heal him, buf she could not do so here and reveal her nature.

He turned his head to the side and opened his eyes to her again. Could she hear him too? Maybe she was a triplet too... and he could hear her like she could hear him. And she could hear him like his brothers could because she had a strong bond with her siblings too...

Poor Tonic and his poor Uninitiate mind.

"I...yes..." he replied outloud, because his 'voice' was meant for his brothers, no one else. "My...my brother's." He whinced when she picked him up. He was very light, even with his skates on, but he was suprised that she could pick him up and move him. "No." They aren't all new. "Fall a lot," he mumbled. She asked about belongings and he pointed to the bag he left on the bench near the half pipe.

The boys had gone back to what they'd been doing, seeing someone was taking care of the destructive kid. His eyes feel to the table and he tried weakly again. Guys?

Could they be too far?

Where ever his brothers are they don't answer. Their might be a number of reasons for that though.

Cecily can tell when someone lies. She nods though, she knows it's a lie, but he doesn't need to know she can tell. She goes and gets his things and comes back to the picnic table. "I could help your injuries, but not here." she told him simply.

By help, he of course just assumes she means cleaning up the cut on his forehead or cleaning up the cuts he didn't clean but just slapped a band-aid over. He took his bag from her and held it against his bruised chest, crossing his arms over it and looking at the surface of the table.

He doesn't know she can tell when he lies, but most people know the boys are lieing when they say they hurt themselves. No one believes that bull anymore.

"S'ok. My brothers'll take care of me." He spoke quietly enough you'd need to bend in to hear him. He really doesn't like to talk to anyone that isn't his brothers.

She has no need to bend, she has supernatural hearing. " I do not yet see your brothers. Come, I will not harm you. I will care for your injuries and take you where you wish when I am done. I cannot do so here however." She says. She can tell he is reluctant. It seems logical in light of the monster boy she had recently been studying.

She waits for his answer. She will not force him.

"i....shouldn't leave." He replied, hugging the bag tightly and whincing when the zipper dug against his bruise and pain bit up his chest. "They'll come." They always came. Just like when they called, he always went. It was just...what they did. And besides, she was a stranger. What if she didn't take him where he'd like. And she was a little strange.

"What could you do that you can't do here with people?" That's a speach, coming from Tonic.

"Things the others would not understand. If you wish to stay, I will leave you. I can be of no use to you here." she said bluntly.

(tis short sorry, sometimes she really has nothing to say or even think about)

((it's ok))

He frowned, suddenly suspicious. "Sortta things?" This is probably another difference between children and adults. They ask questions. Adults ask questions too, but children are suspicious and curious. And in Tonics case, very mistrusting. Abuse does that you know.

"Some things are best kept secret, like the special way you speak with your brothers. I can do things for wound, injuries, but I cannot show how I do this in public. It would be dangerous to me, and likely to others." The angel explained. She was not sure if it would be reassuring or more disturbing to him, it was hard to know. She suspected it might be troubling to him, she did not think he was aware of magics in the world fully, or even marginally.

It disturbed him.

His fingers of one hand picked at the fishnet of the opposite arm where his arms were wrapped over his front across the bag. "It's dangerous?"

Did that mean illegal? If it was illegal he wanted no part of it. But then we have to ask, if it's illegal and he wants no part of it, then what right has he got to carrying around the little baggie of pot in his book bag?

"I don't think so, how can there be a law to make a thing illegal if no one can prove it exists. Dangerous to me, what do you think would happen to me if people thought I had special powers, they'd for the most part be afraid and lock me up. " She explained.

He stared at her for a minute, his eyes finally comeing off of the table, then dropping them again. "Special powers like what?" He's talking an awful lot. The boys around the skate park are begining to wonder what she's saying to get that kid to talk, sinc ehe hardly does unless those two brothers are around.

Speaking of: Gin? Moonshine?

Still no luck with reaching them.

"For starters I can fly, but I'm not going to tell you everything any more than you're going to simply decide to trust me." She stated simply.

Fly? Was she crazy? People couldn't fly! It was impossible. And why weren't his brothers at least answering? He was beging to worry. They'd skipped school, probably known he wouldn't. Had they gone home looking for them? Was Chris still home? Shit.

"I can't," he murmered. He can't trust someone who thinks they can fly. Or who knows about his way of talking to his brothers.

"Then I will leave you now." the angel said after giving him a simple nod.

"You do that." That's probably the most firm thing he'd said since she moved him from the half pipe. "I mean....thanks." For moving him.

Guys? This is weird!

Maybe he should just take the bus home and sneak back into the bedroom and stay under the bed and wait for them.

"Huh? where are you? Is Gin with you?" If it helps you to understand his disorientation, Moonshine is very stoned.

"eh..." He shook his head a little, then leaned forward and put his still slowly bleeding forhead against the table top, turned it sideways and watched the woman walking away. Could she hear Moonshine's 'voice' too? Or just his?

I dun know where Gin is. Where are you? The last, where are you, sounded a little desperate. Desperate to be with his brothers, if only one of them.

"Smoking under the bleachers at the school. Where are you, you're hurt aren't you?" A trace of concern in spite of just how heavily wasted he is. He felt he should go to Tonic.

......

He watched the woman, then the boys on the ramps. Hurt. He was hurt. He could feel Moonshine was relaxed, knew he'd been smoking because thats the only time he really ever felt Moonshine relax. That's the only time he relaxed, when he was high.

yes. At the skate park.

That should be a hint in itself that at least part of the hurt was self-inflicted.

"MMMmmmm, alright, I'm comin there then." Moonshine put out to his brother. And he got up from where he'd been smoking the day away to go join his brother.

you don't have to, he replied, he really wanted him to come though. He turned his head forward, tapped the toes of his skates togather. His fingernails of one hand were digging into the flesh of his palm, his other hand was on the bench beside him, grasping the edge of the seat tighter then was necissary.

It didn't take him too very long to get there. He didn't run though. He had walked briskly.

He sat down next to his brother. "Ouch." he said softly.

Tonic watched him walk towards him, sat up when Moonshine sat beside him. He leaned sideways and put his head against his brother's shoulder. The blood that had been coming from his forhead had made a red line down between his eyebrows, over the bridge of his nose, down his cheek and over the scar. Then it had stopped bleeding when he pressed it for so long against the table.

He nodded his head in agreement. He could smell the drug on his brother's clothes. "Yes." He frowned. "I didn't think he'd be home." It sounded like he was giving an excuse as to why he got beat up. Justifying it.

"Was he drunk, or with someone?" Moonshine asked. He hoped Gin wasn't there. He called out for him. "Gin, you there?"

"He wasn't home earlier." He commented when Moonshine called out then. "He wasn't in class either." He sighed softly, kept his head on Moonshine's shoulder. "The blonde," he answered his brother's question. Yes, he'd had someone there. And had begun drinking. "He'll be drunk tonight," he warned. There was a pleading note and his whole demeaner said 'please don't go pick a fight with him.' It's just the sort of thing he'd expect from Moonshine.

And normally that is exactly what Moonshine would do. However the devious little misfit has been monitorign some of daddy dearest's recent movements and he wants to follow up on some of them if he can with out Chris anywhere around. He needs some new and horribly infuriating things to do to Chris lately.

"Fine, I'll stay out. You gonna climb in the window?" he asks.

He thought about that. "Might. Might go to the library and do our homework til they kick me out." 'Thier'. Meaning, his brother's skipped and didn't get the lessons, he'll do it for them. He didn't want them to fail and be split up the next year, after all. He sat up straighter taking his head off of his brother's shoulder and touched the cut on his forehead with his fingers. Dry. "What're you gonna do?"

It seemed he had not shame in hiding under the bed while his father was drunk.

"I have stuff to check up on." he answers vaguely. His brother needn't know he's checking up on some of the toher people their father stalks and torments. He refuses to say his father has relationships with people, the man doesn't he's just sick.

Suspicious. Because Moonshine just can't stay out of trouble, can he? "Like what?" He looked sideways and now there was that curious glint in his eye. If he were more like Moonshine or even Gin, he might have a look of warning there too but he's not. It's utterly submissive with him.

"Checking up on some people. Just sorta friends." he says. Is it really a lie, is the enemy of his enemy any thing but a possibel ally to him? "Prolly smoke more." he says.

Would Moonshine ever directly lie to them? Could he even? He hesitated before asking, mostly because he didn't want to seem to clingy, even though he knows he clings to them. "Can I come?" Getting high will help the pain stop anyways. And he's still suspicious of what exactly Moonshine is up to.

"MMMmm, but if you slow mw down, I'm taking you home, you hear?" Moonshine says. He talks as if he were the oldest, somewhat Ironic since he was the last of the three born and the weakest.

He may as well have been the oldest. He was the strongest. Not physically maybe but he was definatly the strongest. Tonic nodded. "I won't." He might very well be the fastest of the three, but I suspect that is not the sort of 'slow down' that Moonshine means. Tonic, however, whinces a little at the thought that his brother could think he would slow him down. Or that Moonshine would threaten to 'take him home'. That's like....the forbidden threat.

Which should tell him that there is something vastly more serious than checking up on people and getting high. Moonshine was trying to make the point without revealing too much.

"Okay. You hungry, I got some money, or I can steal us something." he offers.

"I got some money too," he sighed. Maybe this was the sort of slow down Moonshine had implied. Tonic didn't mind the smoking, he did it. He didn't like his brothers drinking, the smell on their breath when they did reminded him of Chris' smell, he'd never say that to them when they were sober, nor ever outloud. And he didn't like them stealing. It felt...dirty. Not that he critisizes them for it. He did it sometimes. Steal, that is. "I'll buy it. What'cha want?" No. He's not hungry. It seems he never is. He doesn't usually eat unless he's high and has the 'munchies'.

"Mmm, well if you aren't we can wait till later." He says. "Lemme know when you're ready to go." Which is Moonshine for I am ready to go. He pulls out a cigarette from behind his ear and pulls a lighter from his pocket.