Orion

A/N: I would like to mention @polar_ for being extremely awesome and for making the best cover ever known to mankind over there on the right c:

I don't like to think of insanity as a state of mind, but rather a meaningfully English term for "I could give a shit what you think, feel or say-- I'll be exactly as I please, thank you very much." Believe it or not, a lot of pretty awesome people are insane, including F. Scott Fitzgerald's wife, Zelda, who ended up in an asylum because, well, she drank quite a lot. But who's to say that Zelda wasn't a freaking mastermind and shouldn't be idolized or worshiped in a temple that offers "Free Booze! Monday through Sunday" and throws impressive Flapper parties that draw the attention of flashy Mobsters from all throughout the country?

No one. No one is to say because every human being has his own opinions. Thus, virtually any topic worth discussing is void because no one can ever agree that damn, this person is just undeniably awesome. Zelda Fitzgerald, in truth, really wasn't that incredible, but anyone could argue that she was pretty great at dancing on tables. Therefore, maybe Mrs. Fitzgerald shouldn't be idolized... She was, at some point, diagnosed Insane, after all. Insanity trumps impressive table-dancing skills by most peoples' standards, anyways.

Insanity reminds me of the German word Backpfeifengesicht, which is pronounced as I-Don't-Have-A-Fucking-Clue, and can be defined as "One in dire need of a fist to the face." It's one of those words that every language needs, and usually accompanies a specific bodily emotion. I know that, usually, when someone wants to punch me in the face, s/he pulls this very complex set of facial movements, which usually expresses a deep, raging anger. If he is Oh-so dramatic, he'll even throw his shoulder back to make it look like he's trying not to sock me in the nose, when that is, in fact, exactly what he plans to do. 

However, the situation of meeting up with someone that makes you boil over in rage is immensely different from coming across someone insane. In fact, say a large man in width and height ambles into a well-placed insane asylum. In this asylum are mindless wanderers, muttering unintelligible words while shuffling slowly across a neatly kept lawn. This man, who is considered undeniably mundane, happens across a woman who cannot discern the difference between reality and her imagination. Their polite conversation happens something like this:

"…" Shuffle, glance away. 

Cough. "..."

I'd say that's relatively accurate. 

When I first came across a seventeen year old boy named Orion Inglert Cassey, who has the most incredible full name acronym of O.I.C., my reaction was that of the aforementioned. Our parents had banished us into his backyard, which wasn't really a back yard because it was a beach and then an ocean, and the concept of conversation appeared to have escaped us. We were collapsed into the sand without our shoes on, and little sequences of dots floated across the air between quotes, representing the words we didn't speak. 

I glanced over at Orion discreetly, expecting him to have been doing the same maybe, but rather found him openly gaping at me. I blinked at him.

He cleared his throat. "It finally stopped raining." His arm raised and he pointed at the sky as if, usually, rain fell from the ground and I should know that lately precipitation has been falling from the sky. He pointed as if to say, "It's a strange event, you see-- rain falling from the sky."

I looked at the sky above us, which had been blue for six days straight. I looked at Orion. I looked back to the sky. Then back to Orion. Was he trying to be funny? From the blank expression on his face, I voted no, he was being serious. Because there was no apparent punch-line, I expect he desired an answer from me. As it is, it took me a few moments to figure out how my brain connected to my vocal cords.