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sasster · 1 year

Text

Consequences

Childhood woes. :)

[Doc]

"Please stand still," the young purple blood whispers to the three animated dolls sitting on the desk before him. "If he knows about you then he will want to hurt you."

All of the dolls turn their heads as if looking to face each other and then give him an understanding nod.

Just as he is able to scoop them into a drawer, the door to his room swings open. Standing in its place is a yellow blood, about a head taller than him, he scans the room over from his spot to see if there is anything different from the last time he'd been in it.

Luckily, Ailzea has become very good at concealing the things that are important to him.

When he is satisfied with the fact that there is nothing new, his gaze settles in on the purple blood at his desk.

He smiles.

"Father Roatus says you've been up here for too long," he starts, waving a clawed hand. "Thought that you'd like some company."

Ailzea says nothing at first, turning his attention back to a book on his desk. He thumbs through it idly for a moment.

"I am much happier when left to my own devices, Favion."

Through his peripherals he watches as he moves deeper into the room.

"Are you? Bet that's when you smile."

"Smiling isn't the only way to show that someone is happy."

Favion hmms as he drops himself on the bed beside the desk.

"You'll be bored in here. I'm just going to keep reading."

"Just following the old man's orders. I can find a way to entertain myself."

Ailzea turns another page in the book, a sigh nearly parts his lips but he knows better than to display any level of annoyance to his childhood friend.

"Enjoy sitting in silence then."

For a short while the pair does just that. They sit in silence together, Ailzea’s nose in a book and Favion busying himself with an old wooden brain teaser he found near the bed. His company is much preferred this way, when they can exist near each other the same way they did before the discovery of the former's powers.

The amicable silence dies quickly.

“Hey Ailzea, you always act like someone just died. Why are you always so serious?”

“Is morose not a better word?”

Favion sucks his teeth.

“Does it matter?”

“I’m just trying to broaden your vocabulary.”

“Appreciate it, O Great Reviver,” he retorts with mock irritation as he drops the brain teaser and focuses his attention on him again. “I think you could stand to have a little more fun is all.”

“Our definitions of fun are not the same, Favion.”

“Alright then. Give me your definition again.”

Ailzea says nothing for a moment, electing to first finish the page he was on before closing the book. Then he gestures broadly to the arrangement of books and puzzles that litter his desk. The small collection he has here pales in comparison to what was left behind at home when his ancestor came for him, the mostly empty shelves that line the wall of his room are a promise that the more he behaved and did what was asked of him then the more he will be rewarded.

“Yeah, yeah. You like reading.” The yellow blood muses dismissively as he gets up and brings himself over to the desk. Something else holds his attention. “Make anything new lately?”

“He does not approve when I do.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“The answer is implied.”

“Is it?” He asks, reaching across him to grab one of the two wood carvers tools that caught his attention. He twirls the rasp he swiped between his fore and middle fingers. “Making friends?”

“Of course not.” Ailzea’s voice is even.

“Of course not.” Favion echos in a mocking tone.

“I spent the morning using that rasp to bevel out the corners of the puzzle you love to fiddle with and complain about.”

“How thoughtful. And the blade?”

“To shave off splinters.”

Favion eyes him suspiciously for a moment, then he sets the rasp back down near the stack of books.

“How boring.”

“This is my definition of fun.”

Favion meanders around behind Ailzea, gaze shifting to the bare shelves around the room. Being keenly aware of the vast collection of books the young necromancer used to keep, he knows better than anyone how cruel it is to have him surrounded by a reminder of what he no longer has. An empty room save for a bed would have been better than what he was given.

“Does it kill you being locked away in a room so empty that it suffocates?”

“Are you working on your villain speeches? It’s a bit heavy handed, my friend.”

He laughs in response.

“I do not need material objects to feel whole. I am happy with what I have,” the purple blood continues, gathering up the books and spare tools as he stands to put them back in their places. With his back to his visitor he carries on speaking. “It would serve me no purpose to mourn what I don’t have. As happy as that would make the two of you. I am content.”

Ailzea shelves the books first, arranging them by priority of what he wants to read next. Quiet settles between them quickly. Because he always picks up and drops conversations the way that he does, Favion’s sudden silence brings with it no cause for concern.

That is until the sound of drawers opening behind him hits his ears. Ailzea turns on his heels to face him.

“Ah, there we are,” Favion says as he opens the second drawer, hand hovering over it and eclipsing the view of the inside. He sits back in the chair.

“Favion please leave them alone.”

He reaches into the drawer and pulls one of the wooden figures out by the arm, dangling it between his thumb and forefinger before his eyes.

“Is it alive?” He asks, though he does not need the answer.

The dolls with life in them always move more loosely than the inanimate, even if they stay as still as they possibly can.

“Favion, please stop.”

Ailzea’s plea falls on deaf ears as Favion gives the doll a rather rough rattling. It looks so small in his claws.

So small and helpless.

“C’mon little guy. Wake up.”

It is easy to tell that Favion is pressing his nails into the poor things hand, a small crack sounds as it starts to splinter.

“Favion. You need to stop.”

“Why? You just said you won’t mourn what you don’t have.”

Then, without thinking, Ailzea plunges the carving knife that he held so tightly in his hand that his knuckles started to turn white into Favion’s neck. The yellow blood barely has time to react before it is pulled across his throat in a jagged and unpracticed line. When he reaches up to wrap his hands around it to stop the bleeding, the doll hits the desk and almost immediately scrambles across it with the other two to find a new hiding place.

He slumps back into the chair, head rolling back to fix Ailzea with a vacant stare.

Ailzea freezes, nothing but the sound of his small friends scampering about to accompany the smell of blood that began to stain the room.

“Why are you so difficult, Favion?” He asks the empty room, running a bloody hand through his own hair. “A question better for when you’re back I suppose.”

With no hope of being able to move the dead weight of a troll he will have no doubt struggled with while alive to lay him down the way he would prefer, he instead situates himself between the corpse and the desk. He forces both eyes closed on his way.

“I was almost enjoying your company this time.”

His powers ignite, signified by the spark of light in his eyes, and he places both hands over Favion’s chest. Thanks to the meddling of Father Roatus, he is acutely aware that this motion is not necessary for the power to work. He just likes to feel the thrum of the transfer of life in his palms.

The death was not so long ago, so the return to life takes no time at all. In seconds the offending wound starts to close up, leaving only the surrounding blood as evidence that anything occured.

The lights in his eyes fade away as his power deactivates and he lets out a sigh, pulling away from Favion once he feels his heart starting to beat again. He feels the sting of having grappled with a volatile spirit and tucks marred hands away into his pockets.

They will not scar.

By now his friends have found their way to a new hiding spot and Ailzea finds that he can breathe easy.

He looks down at the yellow blood whose eyes snap open at the same time and anger twists his features into a terrifying expression.

Favion growls, claw shooting up to wrap around Ailzeas neck. He digs his nails into tender meat as he stands, bringing the purple blood along with him to his full height.

He growls again and shakes him when there is no reaction.

"What the fuck was that? Who the hell do you think you are?! Again?"

Ailzea says nothing, focused more on keeping his breathing steady.

Suddenly, Favion pauses. Realization dawns on him as he gives the smaller troll another shake.

"This is fear then?" He grins.

Once again, Ailzea does not respond. His joy is short-lived.

“I let it slide the first time. I can be very forgiving you know,” as he speaks he balls his free hand into a fist. “That was clearly a mistake on my part.”

“You forced my hand.”

“Now you’ve forced mine.”

Before he can make good on that promise, a third voice fills the room.

“That is quite enough. The two of you,” the Reverend’s voice is humored as much as it is commanding. He does not stick around, satisfied that his orders will be followed as he continues down the hall. “You can play later. Favion, join me.”

The yellow blood sneers as he releases his hold on Ailzea and wordlessly follows after him.

#the restorer #favion #coko writes sometimes #long post #hiya

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