Sanctuary: The Meeting
It didn't take long for Crest to finish with rewiring the circuitry that was the solar batteries that powered his house. He was use to doing all of the odd jobs that were required in maintaining the little house he had out in the country, and it was a relaxing daily routine that gave him a purpose to exist. The countryside was peaceful and devoid of another human presence. There was no other way that he would have it. He didn't like making contact with other humans, and quite frankly, they didn't like making contact with him either. Even the mail lady went out of her way to drop the mail off when he was preoccupied in the house. Crest made sure that he was in the house when she came around.
Crest had been a loner in the extreme of its definition at the start of elementary school. He was African American, and was born and raised in a Caucasian dominated area. This caused many problems for him, and like all kids at that young age, everyone intended to capitalize the difference between him and them in a callous and insensitive way. He ran home crying on several occasions, and was reprimanded for showing this weakness by his parents. His mother was a nurse, and his father served in the military, so both expected him to show no weakness in the face of this cruel and indecent torture. As time went on, Crest began to form a bitterness that encased him like armor. He fought anytime he was threatened, and he was ruthless in the skirmishes. Because of how wild he became, he was sent to a doctor for a psychological evaluation. In the process of the evaluation, the doctor noticed Crest's plight and tried to guide him onto a less destructive path.
"Listen, son. I understand that what these children do to you is unfair and unjust, but you cannot let this shape you into a person that thrives on destruction. So here is a piece of advice: Show strength in the face of weakness, and you shall gain the strength to overcome that weakness."
Crest wasn't entirely sure what that meant until he was entering middle school with the same children he had grown up around. As the children grew, so did the torment that reigned onto him. In front of the school, Crest was made into an exampe as he was restrained and struck over and over until he coughed blood. Yet he kept the same blank look on his face that dominated his appearance, and with a newfound vacant look in his eyes, he called for an end to this charade. The bully lost his nerve, and threw Crest to the side, completely forgetting about him as the rest of the people around him learned to do at an increasing rate.
At the age of 15, Crest departed from the town in the night and walked to the country, where he found an abandoned ranch. He trudged up to the door, checked for any signs of life in the rundown house, and entered upon finding nothing. Over the course of the years, Crest fixed up the house between going to school, and wasn't suprised that when he graduated, no one -even his parents- noticed as he walked across the stage to receive the tainted accomplishment that graduated him into society. He continued to fix the house with a slim income from a job stocking shelves at night, and no one came to visit him. Even the bank and the governing office failed to notice that he was living on this land, requiring him to pay no taxes on it.
So at the age of 20, on a sunny day in the middle of the fall, Crest wiped his hands on his patched levi's, and looked at the work he had done on the wiring of the solar panels. He went over the mental checklist of things that needed power, which included his handmade water pump, electrical oven and microwave, and house lights. When he was satisfied that everything for electricity was in order, Crest went over to the old pickup truck that he had slavaged, and looked under the hood. It was going to take a lot of fixing, but he had nothing else to do at the moment, so he began to go to work, checking fluid levels and electrical circulation to everything. He whistled his usual tune to himself and pulled out an adjustable wrench, loosening a few bolts on a component so he had better access to some other parts buried further in. It was glorious when a man could go about his daily tasks without having to feel taxed by the public in a way that spoke of greed and gluttony in the most profane ways. Crest actually smiled when he thought of the word freedom, and shook his head when he found he couldn't remember the last time he smiled. The distraction of his idle thinking made him late in hearing the gentle uneven footsteps behind him, and he whirled around with the wrench raised to strike, only to drop it at the site of something completely unexpected.
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Standing before Crest was something that was so impossible, he had to shake his head and scrub his eyes several times before he realized that he wasn't dreaming. Unable to move, speak, or even think, Crest sat there and stared as the thing stared back. From what Crest would guess, it had to be an Arctic Fox. In a moment of stupidy, Crest applauded himself at being able to identify what it was that he was staring at. Yet an arctic fox didn't stand upright on two paws, hold an injured arm, and stare back at someone with intelligence gleaming in the pretty icy blue eyes. He wasn't all that sure that an arctic fox could look like it was going to faint any minute from fatigue and blood loss. Crest opened his mouth to speak, and had to clear his throat several times before he could get his unused voice to come out correctly.
"Who, um, what are you?" he asked cautiously, darting a quick glance at the wrence he had dropped at his feet.
"Please...Help...Me..." it said in a gentle voice before collapsing to the gravel. Confusion and suprise compounded on top of one another several times before he could take back control of his brain and think of what he should do. Did the thing really just speak to him, or was he due for another psych evaluation? He looked at the helpless fox that lay not far from him, and finally grasped that the thing was injured and bleeding out. His first thought was to go and get new spark plugs for the truck, to make sure it started up smoothly. His second was to go and get the bowie knife from the house and put it out of its misery, since it was obviously exposed to some kind of radiation. Yet he found himself crouching beside the creature and putting his hands under it to lift it. It was so light and the fur was so soft. Crest trotted back to the house and kicked open the screen door, stepping into the living room.
He ran into the kitchen and lay the fox on the table gently, before running to the bathroom and getting his first aid kit. When he was back at the fox's side, he assessed the damage. The left arm had a deep gash that was bleeding profusely. He opened the kit and pulled out a bottle of alcohol, a rubber tourniquet, some neosporin, a needle and some thread. Immediately he went to work by tieing the tourniquet above the wound to stem the blood flow. Once it had stopped significantly, he began disinfecting the wound by pouring the alcohol over it, cleaning away some dirt and smoothing back the hair around it. Fortunately for the fox, the deep cut didn't nick any arteries, but the amount of blood lost might be too much to recover from. Crest cleaned the wound one last time with the alcohol, and looped the thread through the needle. With a practiced hand, he sewed up the wound neatly, spread some neosporin over it, reached into the kit for a roll of gauze, and wrapped it.
Crest fell into a chair that happened to be next to him, and expelled a breath that he didn't know he had been holding. He felt bone tired, and chalked it up to the experience he had that left him drain mentally. He was still in shock over this creature, that he still refused to believe that it was laying on his table, that it had talked, and that he had just mended its arm. Maybe if he just went to sleep, he would wake up and it would all be just a bad dream. Then he could work on rebuilding the engine block in the pickup truck and putting a new bed on it. It was a project that he was looking forward to. And before he could contemplate what he should do with the sleeping fox that was stretched out on his table, he slowly slouched in his chair and drifted off to sleep.
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Crest was tired of being suprised.
He never dreamed. All that would happen when he fell asleep was that he would drift in an endless darkness as his mind rested and his body recharged itself. Yet this time, he dreamed. He dreamed of an endless field of wheat that swayed lazily from one side to another, tickling his hands as he walked forward, with no particular destination in mind. There was the gentle sound of the wind as it passed over him and seemingly through him, filling him with solace and tranquility. No one was present but him, and he took peace in that fact. Crest continued to walk, through valleys, over hills, in the plains. When he was tired, he would lay down in that field, and he would look up to see the morning sky, filled with night time stars that shot from one end to the horizon to the other. I was a sight that seemed familiar, but it didn't matter now. The ground was soft, and it cradled his head. Wheat reached out and enveloped him, protecting him from a coming chill, and whispering in his ear the sweet promises of eternity in perpetual rapture. As he closed his eyes, he saw icy blue ones staring at him through the strands of wheat.
When Crest opened his eyes, he found hisself nuzzling what he thought was his pillow. Instead, he was nuzzling the chest of the fox that was wrapped around him. He was laying on the floor of his kitchen with the fox's arms wrapped around him, holding him close. It's warmth was enticing him back into unconciousness, but Crest resisted by pushing away and scrambling to his feet. The fox stared at him with those piercing blue eyes, laying motionless where he had left it. Crest backed away until he was pressed against his kitchen counter, and pointed accusingly at the creature.
"Now, I know that I must have been dreaming yesterday, because foxes don't stand on two paws and they definately don't speak english." he said in a cautious voice. It was all that he could do to keep himself from reaching in the knife drawer and puling out something to protect himself, reasoning that if he did so it might seem like a threat and the fox might fight to protect itself. While he racked his brain on how to get the creature out of his house and off of his land, the fox slowly stood up, not quite steady, and leaned against the table. It continued to stare at him with those pretty blue eyes touched fingers to the wound on its arm.
"You have bandaged me, and I am grateful." it said in a soft and silky voice. Crest shook his head violently and pinched himself a few times that would leave bruises. Yet the fox did not go away, and it did speak. How was this possible? There was no way that this arctic fox should be able to talk. Maybe it was a government experiment, like the ones that didn't really exist to make the people feel better about the safety they received from the corrupt and tainted government officials. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to hear the story behind this sudden appearance of something that couldn't truly exist. He looked at this fox, and took his first thorough assessment of it.
The Fox was white as snow, its cutting blue eyes the only contrast. All of it's features matched the traditional fox, except for the curving hips, and the nicely sized breasts. It was a female. Her ears flicked from time to time, as if hearing something that he could not, and the pink tongue flicked out to taste the air. The tail swished back and forth slowly in a mesmerizing pattern, and Crest couldn't help but watch it for a time.
"What is your name?" He asked, not taking his eyes off of the tail. It flicked and lowered to the ground.
"I do not have one." the fox replied. This took Crest by suprise as he looked back up into the depthless blue eyes that never left his face.
"What am I suppose to call you? I don't think it would be right if I say 'hey you'."
"I don't know." she said. Crest sighed and rubbed his temples. This was going to be harder than he had previously anticipated.
"How did you get here? Where are you from? Is there anything that you can tell me about yourself?"
"I don't remember anything except for meeting you here."
Crest was appalled at the state of this fox. She was injured, and her memory of anything prior was nonexistant. She didn't have a name, which meant she had no real identity. It was almost as if she had no life before she had stumbled upon him. It made him feel responsible for this creature, because he knew that no one else would, and would most likely end her life before it even began. It was not something he could even fathom, not having an identity and thus not knowing where they are coming from or going to.
"Well, I need something to address you by until I can find out what we are going to do with you. I don't like the idea of sending you out on your own when it will be like signing your death warrant." Crest fell silent, as he searched for a name that would fit her. Something that she could call her own, but would be subtle. As he searched his memory for a decent name to address her by, the faint picture of a brilliant smile and kind eyes invaded his vision. With a snap of a finger Crest looked at the fox in front of him and smirked.
"We will call you Isis. It is subtle in meaning unless you are well versed in Egyption mythology. So what do you think?" Crest crossed his arms and waited for her denial or approval. The fox studied him for a moment, looking him over once, twice, three times before nodding her head.
"Isis will do fine." She said in a flat tone that raised the hair on Crest's back. It carried a kind of finality that he was unable to interpret, be he instantly knew that he had done something that had more meaning to it that he had known.
"Well then Isis, we need to get you squared away so that I can find out what we are going to do with you." Crest gave her a once over and frowned. "First we need to bathe you. There is blood and dirt all over, and I won't tolerate it in this house." With that, Crest pointed to the bathroom and waited for her to start walking. She didn't move at all. She sat there staring at him like he was a petre dish under a microscope, scrutinizing every part of him. He didn't know if he had said something that was beyond her comprehension (she is a fox that isnh't suppos to be speaking anyways) or if she didn't want to follow his orders. Quite frankly, his rules were non negotiable, and he would show her to the exit if it came down to it.
"Now look-"
"You are different." she said as Crest was about to speak. "You smell the same, and you look the same, but you are different."
"I don't understand what you mean." Crest knew that he was different, but he wasn't sure if she was talking about the same kind of different that he was used to.
"The other humans were not interested in helping me, only killing me. Are your thoughts the same?" She asked, her sharp claws extending and grabbing Crest's attention. He knew that this could go south in a hurry, so he played his best card: indifference.
"I could care less what the others tried to do to you, but I don't shed blood unless absolutely neccesary. Now, if you are going to stay here, you need to follow some simple rules, and staying clean is one of them." He held his hands out in the typical choice gesture, but falling back into a defensive stance just in case. They locked eyes for a while, battling back and forth over dominance. Luckily for Crest, Isis was still weak, and it took everything she had to stand steadily on her feet. She knew that this battle was lost, but she would rip his throat out if he tried anything that would endanger her life.
Crest pointed once again to the bathroom door and Isis turned to move, but once she stepped forward, she instantly lost her balance, having to lean back into the table to keep from falling to the floor. It was embarrassing to be so weak, and then she became aware of the new emotion she felt quite new to. She never remembered feeling embarassment before, and was was instantly rocked by the magnitude of her situation. She didn't remember anything, and she was unsure if should would ever remember anything. A sigh from behind her brought her back to the present, and she looked over her shoulder in time to see Crest push off from the counter. He lifted one of her arms and slid under it, using his other free hand to grab the other side of her waist and hold her to him. It was an odd position for Isis, and she was a little uncomfortable, but it passed as soon as Crest pulled her away from the table and had her moving towards the bathing room. She had to lean into Crest to keep from falling, and put her injured left arm around his shoulders for additional support. Crest got Isis to the bathroom, turned on the light, and gently eased her onto the edge of the bathtub. Once she steadied herself, he grabbed a towel off of the shelf near the door, and handed it to her.
"You go ahead and shower, and I will see if I can't get you something to-" Crest halted in midsentence, thoroughly inspecting Isis again. Her white fur covered almost her entire body. It was thick and soft to touch, thining out around her stomach and breasts. Her ears twitched and turned at every sound, while her black nose sniffed the air gently every once and a while. Her eyes scrutinized and weighed everything, and he almost got lost in them everytime he was caught by them. The pads on her hands and feet were slightly rough, and her claws were sharp. Her tail twitched back and forth almost as if it had a mind of its own. She was majestic, the perfect blend between human and animal; and that was why she would not survive outside.
"Would you prefer to wear clothes?" he asked, not knowing if modesty what a trait that she possessed.
"I, I don't really know." she replied, tilting her head to the side and staring at him in confusion. The overall effect was astounding, as it was so natural that no human could have done this without looking a bit ridiculous.
"Alright, I will lay out some clothes once you are finished bathing, and you can choose to wear them or not." Crest broke eye contact and not exactly fled the bathroom. He needed time to erect a barrier to defend against her mesmerizing stare, or he would submit to her will when she began to assert dominance.
Isis had to shake herself after being caught in the human's eyes. They were devoid of any emotion, and his face was always bleak. It scared her that he seemed so different. Even the humans she had come into contact with had shown some fear, hatred, or curiousity when she looked at them. This human was bordering on lifeless, and it sent shivers up her spine. How could someone, in fact anything, be so devoid? What could it take to change something into a blank slate like this human? She decided she would ask the human, once she was sure her safety would not be threatened. Slowly she looked at the knobs on the wall, and then down to the towel in her hand. What was she suppose to do with these?
"Human!" she called.
"What is it?" Crest responded, coming to the door an instant later.
"I don't understand what I'm suppose to do with these."
Crest rubbed his temples and knew that this was going to be a full time job, just trying to educate her on the daily routine. Crest walked over and put the plug in the drain before twisting both knobs to turn on the water.
"The one on the left is for hot water, and the one on the right is for cold water. Turn both of them to adjust how hot or cold you want the water." Crest picked up a bar of light soap and put it in her hand without looking. "Use this to wash with, and use the towel to dry off with. Your clothes will be on the couch when you come out." Once the water was at a tolerable temperature and level, Crest turned to make sure she understood what he had said, and came face to face with Isis, their noses almost touching. Before he could pull away, Isis grabbed him with a suprisingly strong grip.
Isis was going to wait to ask the question, but she had to know. It was bothering her to think that she would be staying with a person she couldn't read to some degree. He could kill her in her sleep, and she would never see it coming.
"Why are your eyes like that?" she asked
"What do you mean?" he replied
"Other humans had feelings in their eyes. You don't. Why is that?"
"Get in the water"
Crest was struck dumb with the question, only able to deflect it by telling her to get in the water. He didn't think she would ask such a personal question so soon, and he was ill prepared to answer it. Isis slowly let go of his arm and brought both legs up and over into the bathtub. The water was deliciously warm, and she completely forgot what she was doing. Slowly she lowered all the way into the tub, only her head was above the water. Crest saw that she had lost interest in the question, and proceeded to leave before being stopped by the sound of frantic splashing. He turned around and could have laughed at the scene that greeted him. Isis was having trouble holding onto the bar of soap, and everytime she would pick it up, it would escape her. He could leave her in this state of torment and clean up the kitchen before going to sleep, but she could be there all night, trying to catch the illusive soap.
With a sigh, Crest walked over and sat on the edge of the tub. He caught the soap just as it slipped through Isis's paws. Slowly he dipped the soap in the water and brought it to her left shoulder. With a gentleness unlike him, he rubbed the soap in and massaged with his fingers, making sure he got down to the skin. The area spread down her arm, being very careful of the sealed wound. His intensity at any task was no exception to the washing he was doing. His hand lathered soap over her paw and he slipped his fingers in between hers, making sure that he didn't miss a spot. When he was finished, he reached over her and started on the other arm.
Isis was taken off guard as the human grabbed the soap and began washing her. His fingers were so skilled as they reached under her fur and massaged her skin, and she became lost in the feeling. He didn't miss an inch as he worked, and she reveled in it. Her ears drooped and her eyes closed slowly as she drifted between the waking and sleeping world. His hands were soft on hers and she involuntarily tried to grab his, but she was too late as he leaned across and began on her other shoulder. He actually smelled pleasant, the faint hint of wheat soothing her into a dreamlike state. She leaned into his chest and began to purr, unable to contain herself. The human was a master at his work, and she was beginning to enjoy being a slave to it.
Crest felt her lean into him, and he was sure he could hear her softly purr. Like him, he was sure she was exhausted from earlier, so he quickly moved his fingers over her arm, removing dirt as he went. When he was finished with the arm he pulled away and lathered some soap on his hands, catching her dreamy eyes before he leaned in and kneaded the back of her neck. Again Isis leaned into his chest and brought a paw up to his shoulder while he worked his way over her shoulderblades and down her spine, stopping long enough to collect more soap. He made sure he got off all of the blood that she had been laying in, and continued his path down until he got to the base of her tail.
Isis was thinking about the intensity in the human's eyes, it being the first real thing in them as his hands explored her back in a delicious yet modest way. When his hands found the base of her tail she jumped, feeling as though she had been struck by lightning. Her eyes opened wide and she gasped, shuddering with the glow that was left behind. She brought her other paw up to clutch at the human, hoping that he would make this go on and on.
Crest was aware of Isis clutching him with both paws, nuzzling his neck as she jolted and gasped from him touching the base of her tail. He became uncomfortable and quickly covered the rest of her tail. When he finished, he pulled away and saw the look of disappointment in her face. Slowly he started on one of her feet, working his way up her leg at a decent pace, making sure he was thorough, not missing any dirt. He didn't miss her tensing as he reached her thigh. He stopped and gave her a quick glance, her eyes meeting his. He was completely taken back by the pleading look she was giving him. He broke eye contact, leaving that leg unfinished and started on the other one. When he reached the same point, she tensed again and he pulled his hands away.
"I'm sure you can finish." He said in an emotionless tone. He looked down at his soaked shirt, stood and turned to leave.
"The clothes are on the couch when you are done." he said before walking to the door, removing his shirt, and going to find a dry one.
Isis felt somewhat cheated by the premature end to the bliss she was feeling. She had never experienced someone else in the same way the human had touched her. Even without remembering anything prior, she was sure that he had done something that no one else had done. When he stood to leave she reached for him, but he had already turned and started walking to the door. Just as she was about to call to him, she felt the words die at the sight of the the human without his shirt. His body was a portrait of pain, as the scars criss crossed and overlaid each other. His entire back was covered with them, and they reached to caress his arms as well. What had happened to him that he could deserve such a punishment? It was a sight that made her touch her own wound, thinking of his being 100 times worse. She sat in the water for a while, thinking of how different he was, before finishing what he had started. She didn't find the same pleasure in it, and it made her think of what she was getting into if she were to stay with this human.
Crest found a dry white t-shirt, slipped it on and proceeded to clean the kitchen. He collected his medical supplies and put them back in the kit, found a rag by the sink, grabbed some bleach and scrubbed the drying blood off of the table. All the while he thought of the life he had just saved. This would be the first time since his childhood that he gave something the chance to stay close, and he wasn't sure if this was a good idea. He was already on the brink of shunning the entire world, and he was sure that this would be the thing to push him over the edge if Isis decided to hurt him. Without knowing why, Crest felt assured that this wasn't something that he had to worry about. She was different from everyone else in just about everything that counted. He scrubbed at the table even harder as his thoughts conflicted, being thrown back and forth between having Isis vacate his house, and establishing needs that need to be covered for her stay.
Crest was so deep in thought, he didn't notice Isis stepping out of the bathroom and watching him do his work. She found it interesting how this human could be so intense in everything that he did. Nothing seemed to be worth half an effort to him, and she was sure that if she chose his protection, she wouldn't have to worry about that being a half effort either. Now that she had seen the the pain that was his back, and the intensity in his eyes, she felt confirmation that he didn't take joy in hurting others, and that he would be diligent in the care of her.
"Human." Isis called.
Crest looked up and found her wet and dripping onto the carpet outside of the bathroom door. She held the towel loosely in her hand, but didn't seem to know what to do with it. He sighed, dropped the rag and bleach onto the clean table, and walked over. Grabbing the towel from her he began to dry her off, making sure that sure that she would be completely dry when he was finished. Before he could really set into his work, Isis grabbed both of his wrists and he looked into her eyes.
"I want to stay, human." she said
"Crest." he replied. Isis blinked.
"My name is Crest. It's easier to speak with someone if you call them by name."
Isis felt joy in learning the human's, Crest's, name. She had established a connection with him that would allow them both to delve further into the story that was them, and she looked forward to learn more about this interesting character.
"Crest. I would like to stay, and ask for your protection. I have no doubt that if I were to go elsewhere, I would be rejected, and even killed."
Crest began drying Isis again, her hands falling to her sides as she leaned into the towel. He found that he didn't mind in the same way he would have if someone else had made the exacty same request. In fact, he was a little relieved that she had chosen to stay instead of leave. It would have been a waste of company if she had chosen death over life. He finished drying her front, and reached behind her to get her back. Isis rested herself against him as he did his work, feeling sleep come ever closer as he gently scrubbed at her fur to get all of the water. It didn't take him long before he started on her legs, having to bend down to get them. Isis rested her paws on his shoulders and almost missed it when he spoke.
"There are rules if you are going to stay here." he said gently, having caught the sleepy look of her.
"You have to stay clean. I won't tolerate dirt in my house. You also have to work. Living here isn't free." He didn't want to tell her that living here was practically free, because there were still things that needed to be done around the house. He would show her the ropes in due time. Once he was finished he led her to his bedroom and sat her on the edge of it.
"And the most important of all. If you see someone other than me, hide yourself. We don't need anymore problems than we already have. If they do see you, you come to me immediately and I will take care of it, understand?"
Isis gave a small nod and yawned. She was fading in and out of unconsiousness, and was trying her best to listen to what he was saying. All she could think of was endless wheat fields as she traced a paw over Crest's chest. He smelled so wonderful, and that dull gentle look in his eyes made her feel safe. She found herself laying on the bed, covered to her chin as she looked up at him. She pulled her had free of the blanket and touched his cheek. He was so soft.
"You smell like wheat." She said before closing her eyes. She heard him stand and walk to the door before, replying before sleep enveloped her.
"Oh, and don't drip on my carpet anymore."
More to follow...