"You," Pariah Dark began, pointing at Clockwork. "Have your claimed." Clockwork nodded, staring at the Ghost King as Pariah pointed to himself. "So, I believe it is only fair I get to have one as well."
"I suppose that is true." Clockwork agreed as a knowing smile appeared on his face. Though he isn't going to say anything, yet. "Do you already have one, or are you still looking?"
Pariah silently reached behind his head, pulling out a small boy-who looked confused more than anything- as he held the child up before the Master of Time. "This is Billy. He is my claimed, I found him on the street." Pariah preened, a smug and self-satisfied smile on his face.
Clockwork could barely stop the snicker that threatened to turn into full out laughter. "This is your choice?" He coughed, clearing his throat. "Of all the choices, he is who you choose to claim?"
"Yes." Pariah answered immediately with full, overwhelming certainty.
"Oh my dear, dear king," The Master of Time purred, leaning against his staff as he stared with half lidded eyes. "Can you not see the boy to have already been claimed? I don't believe such a thing could have escaped your notice or," He tilted his head slightly. "Have you chosen to ignore it and act as if it wasn't there in the first place?"
Pariah's silence was very, very telling. To those that had known him well and could decipher it at the very least and Clockwork, being one of those few, knew well that this specific silence was a guilty admittance more than anything else.
He floated over to Pariah's side, resting his arm on the King's shoulder as he looked him in the eye. "Oh, my liege, you haven't changed one bit it seems. Still so stubborn as you always were, even in our ghostling years." He leaned close to the King's ear, dropping his voice to a whisper. "How lucky for you then, that I just so happen to be so entranced with that trait of yours..." He leaned back as quickly as he leaned in, gaze still locked with the king.
Pariah stared back with a very, very pointed gaze, the tips of his hair already igniting in green embers, and, after a few moments, he opened his mouth to speak-
"Can you guys get a room already?" The boy, Billy, interrupted before the King could speak, giving the ancient ghost pause. "I'm still here you know!"
Pariah blinked down at the boy with a face so bewildered, that Clockwork hadn't seen it in eons. Not many had the gall to interrupt him as the boy had done and oh, oh did it fill the Master of Time with such delight to see it.
Billy stared at the king with a face that spoke volumes of how done he was with the situation at hand and, as Pariah's shifted into one as if he had swallowed something sour.
Clockwork cackled.
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Prompt 198
Now Bruce was not expecting to reincarnate upon his death. At least he thinks he died, he’s pretty sure he did. There wasn’t any other reason for him to be a well, literal baby. Around two he thinks, which fits well with the fact that it’s around that time that babies start forming memory recall, if he, well, remembered correctly.
But while he knew about reincarnation thanks to Shayera and Carter, he’d never exactly given it much thought towards himself. Because seriously, what were the chances of such a thing as him being given another chance?
So he was quite surprised at his situation, experimentally opening and closing pudgy hands that looked well, just a tiny bit off. He’d never been that pale before, he thinks, even back when he never went outside like, ever.
He turned his gaze towards the mobile above him with a sort of idle curiosity- a mixture of bats (ha) and other trinkets he wasn’t familiar with. It also caused him to get his first good look at his parent, asleep on a rocking chair right next to the crib.
Huh. They had the same pale skin he did, albeit in the light it looked like it was slightly tinted blue, and while their hair was white they didn’t exactly look old. They looked surprisingly well rested for raising a toddler too, unless they had a nanny or something similar… He rolled over, managing to very shakily push himself to his feet with the help of the crib.
Why was standing so hard as a toddler? And why did he have his memories of everything except how he had died anyway?
His head whipped up from where they were staring at his feet when he heard a snort, finding his parent awake and standing. Somehow silently enough that he hadn’t noticed- or he was that easily distracted by the unfamiliar giddiness bursting in his chest.
“Morning little bat,” his parent easily picked him up and held him while he inwardly sighed at the nickname. Of course his bat motif would follow him into this life. A low rumbling almost caused him to jump, his body relaxing before he could fully register the sound. The… purring?
Oh.
He wasn’t human this time around.
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