First of the year I
Posted: Fri Mar 05, 2021 5:28 am
1st of Glade, 121
Night fell upon an eventful day in Lorien. Arkash had visited a vet, trained his pet Wrog and learned a lot about himself and his vulnerabilities. What was more? He discovered the home of the Thompson family, the sons of which had tortured him for most of the previous year. He'd been beaten into submission, branded, robbed, made to watch as his sickly father was battered, and led to snapping.
If it weren't for those boys, Arkash wouldn't have gone as far off the deep end as he had. He'd completely abandoned the concept of society and its laws, he killed indiscriminately and festered in his hate on a day-to-day basis. The system failed him over and over again, and to that day, Arkash worked to abolish it from the inside and from the out. All of it was because of those boys; Alec, Brodie, and Chad.
When he first encountered them, he was on his way home from the coal mines. They used their superior age, builds, and numbers to bully him into a corner demanding the wages he'd earned that day. He was ultimately weak and surrendered his earnings, but resolved to avoid them from there on out. He became a target for them, and they hounded the streets of Lower Nivenhain in search of his scales. Whenever they found him, he was forced to endure intense beatings, as well as being robbed of whatever he had on his person. if it weren't for them, he would have been able to leave Lorien with Cojack last year, they could have bought a home somewhere far away, and he could have found medical help for the sickly horse.
Alas, more humans fell into the fray, betrayed him, and surrendered his address to the vultures. All his savings were stolen and his life was undone. He resorted to thieving to make as much money as he could and killed a man for the first time, a Rien citizen. In trying to cover up the murder, the brothers found him again, and he defied them. For that, they beat down Cojack, and Akash saw red. He bit Brodie, the ring leader, and tore up his wrist before he charged the other brothers with Brodie's knife, the weapon that remained holstered at his hip. Alec and Chad fled on the promise he screamed, that he would kill them for what they'd done.
Alas, he spent too much time nursing Cojack's wounds and was ultimately caught in the squad of execution hollows that was sent after him for bringing harm to Rien citizens. if not for Fayeth and Asmodei, he would have died. They saved him, nurtured him, and warped his worldview to what he believed to be the truth. He grew stronger, harder, colder. He lost everything that made him mortal and became the monster that lurked in the darkness of the city's alleys. His face was painted on wanted posters across the streets, his true face.
Coincidentally, it was the same face that stared upward at the Thompson's estate under the pale light of the moon. He stood, dressed in his thick furs and leathers with his heavy, feathered cloak to rest on his shoulders. He carried naught but Brodie's Dagger in terms of weapons, he didn't need much else to take the life of the one who started it all.
A deep exhale from his nose saw a cloud of condensation drift skyward as it dissipated, and he walked to the front door. A test of the handle revealed it was locked, so, Arkash drew Brodie's dagger and slashed his palm with little hesitation. The cut was deep, intended to bleed. With the darkened bile that bled from the gap in his scales, he fashioned a dagger with bloodshaping and cast suffused to increase the sharpness of the blade to unreal proportions. With a simple press of the dagger in the door's keyhole, he destroyed the lock's mechanism and pushed the door open without effort.
Cruel yellow eyes traced the lavish layout of the home as he entered, but he searched only for the staircase that led to the second level. A sniff through his nose affirmed the presence of the monster he hunted, and he exhaled deeply before he proceeded up the stairs without so much as a sound. The front door was left ajar, he didn't care. Some baser part of him thought he'd wipe out the entire household that night, and saw no need to protect witnesses or leave no evidence of his presence.
Step by step, he ascended the dark halls and listened to the thrum of heartbeats around him while he followed the scent of his abuser. By the time he landed on the second floor, his breathing had quickened and the taste of venom met his palette. Still, he steeled his resolve and pushed on.
Brodie's scent was strong, he was alive. Part of him had wondered if the wound he'd inflicted had cost the boy his life, but no. He wasn't sentenced to death for taking the life of another, he was sentenced to death for hurting someone. After all, what was the value of a nameless lizard compared to that of a natural-born Rien citizen? He was seething. The Thompson family reminded him of everything he hated in the world, in Lorien. Arkash was born wrong, as the knighthood had told him time and time again, and for that, he didn't deserve to live.
Furious, he arrived at the foot of Brodie's door, and tested the handle gently to find it open. A push of the barrier saw it yield to him, and he stepped into the room with the drag of his raven cloak close behind him. His night-eye saw the whole room lit well, and he spied the sleeping demon, curled up in the covers of their lavish bed. His stomach churned in disgust.
Once he closed the door with just as much care, Arkash walked leisurely to the window on the far end of the room and tested the lock. He needed a quick escape if the thing turned sour. Once the latch was opened and the window was pushed ajar, Arkash sighed, content. A cold breeze flooded the room, and he moved to stand at the foot of the bed. There, he looked over the demon. The man that had carved their initials into his chest when he was a starved, weak peasant. His scales burned in the area, even though Taelian had seen to it that all his disfigurations were healed. It still hurt.
He'd thought that he'd cry upon seeing Brodie again, but he felt no fear, no sadness. His mind was numb, his mouth was dry and his heart was cold. Another sigh saw him step around, then sit at the foot of the demon's bed, facing the window. The moon shined on him, his eternal celestial guide.
A hard gust of icy wind brought the sleeping human to shiver, but Arkash reacted not. the sound of shuffling in fabric his heightened dranoch senses and brought his scalie brow to furrow. He sat up then, and Arkash listened as the human rubbed at his eyes. The grind of skin on skin was so distinct, coupled with the wetness of sleep-set tears, it painted an image so clear in his head that he didn't need to look at Brodie to tell what was going on. "If you scream, I'll strangle you," he spoke clearly in fluent common, then turned his head to look the human in the eyes. "But you're allowed to cry," he spoke with a sad smile while he drank the human's expression.
Widened eyes, shaking lips, pale complexion. Brodie had seen what he perceived to be a ghost, a relic of his recent past, back to haunt him. "N-Newt...!" he stammered.
"...You remember those words, right, Brodie?"
The human began to shake, and Arkash returned his gaze to the window to illuminate his features in the pale light. He shut his eyes while the human gathered his scattered thoughts. "...L-listen, ...Oh fuck. N-newt, I'm... I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry!"
"Quiet down," Arkash returned while his lidded eyes lowered to the floor with his gaze. "If anyone interrupts us, I'll kill them, then you." he lifted his gaze then and opened his eyes while he peered out the window. "I'll make you watch as I saw their head off with your own knife," he assured with the utmost clarity and a calm voice.
"God... Please, no..." he choked a sob at the warning. "Newt, please don't... I..." He spoke through a haze of tears.
"Arkash," he corrected. "Call me 'Newt' again and I'll hurt you." Brodie sniffled and wiped at his eyes in silence. He was crying quietly, just as the Rathor had hoped. "I'm not even a fucking Newt you stupid cunt. I'm a lizard, a Monitor Lizard!" he hissed, then sucked in through his bared, serrated teeth. "God, I fucking hate that name. I physically cringe every time you say it just because of how fucking stupid you sound."
"A-Arkash...!" he called. "I'm sorry, I w-won't say it again, I promise," the human assured. Silence followed, and Arkash stared in thought. His smile had long since dropped. It didn't make him happy to see the monster as weak as he was. Why not? Brodie continued to cry while Arkash reflected. "Are you... Are you gonna kill me?"
"I don't know yet," he replied flatly.
Brodie shivered. Arkash could almost feel the tremors in his form. He thought he'd be satisfied to bring such crippling fear to the monster, but he wasn't. "Then... Why are you here?"
"...I don't know yet," he spoke again. The image he carried was broken. He wasn't an agent of death come to exact revenge, instead, he was lost, unsure of his next move; stuck searching for meaning in the things he did, tangled in the roots of his past with no way out. Ultimately, he came back to Brodie. He saw it, the human saw it, and his crying slowed to sniffles and sobs.
"What...?" Asked his victim-to-be, heralding that the illusion was broken.
Continued here
