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It was one of those rare moments when Aixa was bored. And not just any sort of bored. He was the sort of bored that no matter how much he rolled around and read it still gnawed at his insides. Aixa sighed and put his head on the library table. His side was littered in books in various languages, all in the hope that one of them would be able to entertain him. Unfortunately, that plot had failed, because twenty-six books later and he was still pouting about not being entertained. He piled the books on one side, creating a small tower. He was soon bored of being an architect and put his head back on the table, his lower lip sticking out grumpily. His eyes scanned around the library in search of something to amuse himself.
A man caught his eye. Dark hair, dark eyes, clean-shaven. He couldn’t be much older than twenty. Aixa stood up lankily and approached the man’s table. “Hello,” he said charmingly, plopping himself down in the seat opposite of the man. “Might you be interested in some company?” he asked cheerfully.
ooc| just tell me if you need me to rewrite this. I didn’t know where Oliver would be that Aixa would be, so I erred on the side of boring and chose a library. XD
Oliver was sitting at a table at the library. He was looking through a few different cook books. He was looking for new recipes that he could learn to make. He was good at cooking. Though with the state of his legs he doubted he could find a job as a chef. He had his crutches leaning against the table he was sitting at. His head felt... fuzzy from the pain medication he had taken not very long ago. They weren't working all to well anymore so he had been taking more and more. He wanted to get put on something different. Something that would help the pain in his legs go away easier. He tightened the muscles in his legs trying to stretch them but that only caused them to hurt. "Hello," He looked up, not excepting anyone to be around. "Might you be interested in some company?" "Sure," he said moving his crutches so they weren't in the persons way. "I'm Oliver, my friends call me Oli," he said, thinking what friends? but he extended his hand out to shake anyway.
Aixa scanned the books on the man’s table. He picked up a discarded one and flipped through it idly. If this man was looking through cookbooks, perhaps he was a chef? Or maybe he was a bachelor and had no girlfriend to make him food? The latter seemed more than likely. A faint odor caught his attention, and he quirked an eyebrow at the man. There was just a faint trace of something else there – maybe the man wasn’t entirely human, or maybe he hung around with non-humans. He put down the cookbook and focused, deciding that now wasn’t the best time to try and put the man’s history together using a few assorted clues.
I’m Oliver, my friends call me Oli.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Oli,” Aixa said lazily, a grin spread across his face. He took Oliver’s hand, shaking it with enthusiasm. “I used to know a man who was obsessed with a little boy named Oliver,” he mused, putting his chin in his hand. “Charles, his name was. He was a very creepy man, but it seems to have worked well for him,” he continued, chuckling. “But that was many years ago, and neither here nor there.”
“I’m Aixa, by the way,” he said. “I don’t have any friends, but people tend to call me a lot of names. Mainly creepy.”
Oliver was curious when he mentioned knowing a person that was obsessed with a boy named Oliver. "What an interesting name I've never heard that name before." He chuckled slightly at his mention of people calling him creepy. "I don't think your creepy." He gave a little shrug. "What are ya doing at such a boring place on a Saturday morning? Shouldn't ya be doing something productive?" he asked. He had nothing to do. He spent a lot of his time at home. He didn't have a girlfriend. He lived with his father who was as well a drug abuser, just not the same kind of drug. His father takes heroin and drinks a lot. His father is in his mid forties. When Oliver's mother and his father went through a divorce Renz lost it. So after he broke up with his girlfriend he moved back in with his father to try and help take care of him and keep an eye on him.
Aixa grinned widely as the man complimented his name. It was a rather unique name – one that his Caretaker had chosen herself – and he never got tired of people complimenting it. He bit his lip to suppress another smile when Oliver told him that he wasn’t creepy. Of course, he knew it couldn’t take it to heart because the man hardly knew him and was thus a rather weak judge of his character, but the sentiment did still mean a lot to the attention-craving Djinn. He put the cookbook he had been holding back in the stack of Oliver’s books.
What are ya doing at such a boring place on a Saturday morning? Shouldn’t ya be doing something productive?
Aixa laughed. “The library is one of my favorite places, Oli. The books don’t care who you are or what you look like,” he said, patting a book fondly. “But I see your point. The library isn’t very exciting at all,” he sighed, leaning on the table. “What’s a handsome guy like you doin’ alone in a library on Saturday?” he asked, another smile lighting up his face cheekily.
"Yeah your right, books are much better then people." He said thoughtfully. He chuckled slightly at his comment. "I don't really have much to do. I usually just sit around at home, watch tv go on the computer sometimes play video games and I cook." He shrugged. "Boring life really. Not much at all to do in this town really." He was wearing a black tshirt with band logo on it and he was wearing black sweatpants. "I enjoy cooking. I would probably get a job as a chef but I have bad legs, I wouldn't be able to stand all day." he sighed slightly at this. "I wish something exciting would happen, ya know?" he said thoughtfully.
“Not much to do?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow at the man. Oliver looked like the sort of man that would be harassed by the ladies who wanted things to do. He hummed thoughtfully, sitting back in his chair and listening intently on what the younger man said. Well, if this man wanted something to do, Aixa could certainly be persuaded to give the young man something to do. Pale blue eyes landed on the crutches as Oliver told him he had bad legs, and then back to the man’s face, studying him intently. “A chef, huh?” he asked, crossing his legs.
He put his chin in his hands. “I totally get what you mean about something exciting happening. You live as long as I have and the days just start to blend together,” he said vaguely, lifting his hand and making a circle to show how the days move. The books fluttered, moved by the wind the Djinn had willed into the room. Aixa grinned, deciding the display was a subtle enough hint that he wasn’t human. He wouldn’t tell Oli that he was a Djinn – he’d been used way too much for his powers – but it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun with the human. If Oli were human.
He stood to his feet, brushing his clothes from imaginary dirt. “Well, monsieur le chef, how about we go to my apartment and you can show me how to cook, eh?” he asked, offering out a hand to help Oliver up.
"Not much to do?" asked Aixa. Oliver shook his head. "Yeah I enjoy cooking a lot," he responded when he asked about him wanting to be a chef. “I totally get what you mean about something exciting happening. You live as long as I have and the days just start to blend together," Oliver was very curious what he meant by that. Maybe he was older then he looked. When he moved his hands in a circle he felt a breeze go by, fluttering the pages of the books that Oliver had open. One book even closed totally. Oli looked at him curiously, wondering if this man was more then he seemed. "Okay," he heard himself breathe. He felt odd, like he was being almost hypnotized by this man's striking blue eyes." He took his hand and grabbed his crutch with his other hand. His legs buckled slightly when he stood up. He pulled the crutch onto his arm and leaned on it. Then when Aixa let go of his hand he reached for his other crutch. He grabbed one of the thinner books that looked new, and stuck it under his arm to bring with them.
Although Aixa hadn’t expected the man to agree with him as easily as he did, it was an excellent surprise. Still, it was fairly unnerving to have a (maybe) human coming over to his apartment. What if this man were a vampire? Could vampires even drink the blood of the Jinn? Not that vampires were real, but nonetheless, it was still a concern. Of course, even if Oliver were a vampire, Aixa wouldn’t retract his invitation. He would just set some boundaries during their ‘cooking’ lessons. For example, Aixa or his neck would most certainly not be on the platter. He glanced over at Oliver as they rode together in the elevator, zeroing in on the man’s lips in an attempt to find fangs.
Satisfied that there were none, he stepped out of the elevator as the doors opened to his floor. He fished out his keys from his jacket pocket and opened the door. He ushered Oliver inside and shut the door after him. He looked critically around his own apartment.
There were thousands of books crammed all over the apartment. They lined the walls in stacks, covering the windows. There was a bed crammed into a corner with books and papers covering it. Ink was spilled on the floor, staining it black. The kitchen was virtually untouched; Aixa had no need for food, but it was slightly hard to find an apartment with no kitchen. He had spices and other things to put in the pantry, and his land-lady brought him fresh fruit and vegetables three times a week, and her husband brought him canned food and the occasional frozen chicken. Now that he realized his supply of food was frankly pitiful, he wished he had figured out another reason for Oliver to come over to his apartment. He sighed and walked over to a couch that was buried beneath a mountain books and pushed them off, clearing a space for Oliver.
“I don’t really have a lot to work with, but I’m sure we can do something,” he said, biting his lower lip nervously. “What do people eat for breakfast anyway?” he asked, rummaging through the refrigerator.
Oliver looked around his apartment. He was leaning more on his right leg then his left. His left leg was hurting more then usual. There was so many books. "Damn you must really love books." He chuckled slightly. "What kinda books do you like?" he asked as they walked to the kitchen. He placed the recipe book on the counter. His eyebrow rose when he said people. "Depends, there's a lot of different things to eat for breakfast." He leaned slightly on the counter, while looking at Aixa he let his eyes change. His pupal expanded until it covered the whole part of the white part of his eyes. He let it stay long enough for him to see it, then he blinked and his eyes turned back to the normal brown eyes. Oliver turned and went in to the fridge. He pulled out some eggs, fruit that he would cut up and a loaf of bread. "How about some french toast, with a side of eggs and fruit?" he suggested, giving a crooked smile.
Aixa grinned at the comment about his books. “Yeah, I’m somewhat of an avid reader,” he said, looking at his collection fondly. They helped him understand humans better, although he knew that he would never completely understand any species besides his own. They were all so different. “My favorite kind of book is the old-timey romance,” he said honestly, leaning against his counter as Oliver set down the recipe book beside him. “I miss the times when men would compare their lover’s eyes to stars on a clear night,” he said wistfully.
The man’s motions caught his eyes as the man leaned closer to him. Aixa watched as Oliver’s eyes changed from brown to fully black. The Djinn’s hair stood on the back of his neck, and his pale eyes grew paler in response, a sign of Aixa’s distress. Having had no previous experience with the man, he was unsure whether that was just a friendly hint that he was more than just a human, or a threat. Before he could be too unsettled, however, Oliver’s brown eyes were back and a crooked smile had settled on his face.
“French toast sounds nice,” he said, sliding off the counter to step closer to Oliver. “What are you? If you aren’t human, I mean,” he clarified, staring at him curiously, pale blue eyes looking intently at the man with the food in his hands.
"I would have never guessed that you are an avid reader," he said sarcastically his expression was slightly amused. He thought about what he said about missing the old times. "And when teenagers weren't having sex at such young ages. Some kids are having sex from 13 years old." He said shaking his head slightly. "If i ever had a daughter i wouldn't let her date for a long time, that and if i were to ever have a daughter, the partner would probably be afraid of me with me size and all," he shrugged again also looking amused. His ear wiggled slightly at the question. Almost like a dogs ear would. "I'm kind of half human." he paused thoughtfully. "I'm a werewolf. My father is one, my older brother is one and a few of my younger sisters are a werewolf as well." He was curious to what this man if he was a man's reaction would be. "It would be much easier to be a werewolf if i didn't have an anger management problem or if i didn't have a leg problem." He paused then asked, "What are you?" his ear flicking slightly again like a dogs.
Aixa focused in on the ear, his lips curling into a smile. Perhaps he didn’t mean to twitch the ear, but Aixa found it utterly adorable. Like something a sweet little puppy would do. Aixa’s smile twitched from existence, remembering how one of his most recent masters – still around two hundred years ago – had made him remain in the form of a dog. Sure, Djinn had a natural ability to shapeshift, but it still took an incredible amount of effort for someone barely scraping a thousand years. “Kind of half human?” Aixa asked, sitting on his counter and crossing his legs. Aixa prided himself in his sense of smell once more – he knew that the man hadn’t been entirely human. Well, not knew, but he’d had a strong suspicion.
Werewolf.
“A werewolf? That’s incredible. So it’s passed genetically?” he asked, sliding off the counter once more to examine Oliver closely. He was about to begin to touch Oliver’s ears, when the werewolf mentioned an anger problem. Aixa withdrew his hand, smiling brightly. “That’s great. Oh, man. Werewolves must be one of the most beautiful species ever,” he mused, tapping his lips thoughtfully.
What are you?
A logical question to follow when one admitted they weren’t totally human. Aixa took a step back, clearly uncomfortable. Still, maybe werewolves could tell when other species were lying. He bit his lip, contemplating his choices. Oliver didn’t seem very manipulative, so maybe he wasn’t like humans? “A-A Djinn,” he said quietly, looking at his toes sheepishly. “I grant wishes.”
"Yes it is genetic, but really it doesn't always pass from parents. For some odd reason men seem to get the genetic easier then women do. I have 7 sisters and there's me and my brother. Two of my sisters are twins, my one sister, Arianna is a werewolf, while Noelle, isn't. Sometimes your wolf form takes the characteristics of the person. My from takes on my anger issues, while my brother Jace is scruffy and muscular like his own form. He has trouble keeping is beard at bay. During a full moon we have no control over our form, its just the beast that takes over. Otherwise I could change my form right now and still be in control. Though most of us get edgy when full moon is drawing closer. My wolf form also has the same weakness as I do, my legs, though somehow he manages to run and do other things. I on the other hand can't walk without these anymore. I can either change out of choice, which isn't very often, because for the most part it makes me loose my clothes except sometimes sweatpants stay on, but they act like shorts on the wolf form. As well as if i loose my temper, I can change without realizing. That was bad when i was a teenager. Unless your bit under the full moon, you won't become one unless it is genetic. You don't find out if you have got the gene until you hit puberty, other wise, you have no idea." Oliver explained, then he felt as if he was rambling and listening to Aixa's response to his question. He noticed that he looked slightly uncomfortable and nervous about answering the question. Oli patiently waited for him to be ready to tell him. He tilted his head to the side slightly, like a puppy looking at you curiously, or with questioning in its eyes, his ear lightly flopped a little bit. "I haven't heard of a Djinn before. How interesting." He said not really giving it a second thought. He turned to look around in the cabinets, and he pulled out a bowl. "Can you eat human food?" he asked with a raised eyebrow after he placed the bowl down. Then he got a little plate to place the egg-y bread on when he finished with it and it was ready to put on the stove. He went into a drawer and picked up a fork. There was a sudden sizzling noise, Oliver winced and dropped the fork. His veins turned black and his skin turned blue until the touch of the fork. It was silver.
“Interesting,” Aixa mused, listening carefully. If men got it more easily, then perhaps it had something to do with the chromosomes of the… condition? Was ‘werewolfism’ a disease? None more-so than being anything other than human is, surely. “The twins aren’t both werewolves? And they’re identical? Peculiar,” he said thoughtfully, humming under his breath. “I notice that you spoke about your werewolf form as ‘he’. Are you completely in control when you’re a werewolf?” he asked curiously. “And if you were to bite me during a full moon, I would be a werewolf? Theoretically, I mean.”
I haven’t heard of a Djinn before. How interesting.
He squinted at the man, unsettled by his apparently lack of interest. “You don’t sound very interested,” he mumbled.
Can you eat human food?
“I think,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ve never tried. But I should be able to.” He watched as Oliver rifled through his cupboards, and nearly flipped out when he heard sizzling. “Ah! Silver! Sorry! I have to make sure things aren’t steel, and silver was the only way to make sure it wasn’t steel, oh man,” he said, picking up the silver fork and throwing it in the sink. He rifled through his cabinet and grabbed a few bandaids, taking Oliver’s hand and wrapping the hand up.
“I didn’t mean to. I-I didn’t put together the silver-werewolf thing,” he said, dropping Oli’s hand gently. He grabbed a fork from the drawer and twirled it between his fingers. He grinned and placed Oli’s good hand on his own. “There. Just let me be your hand, eh?”
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