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Izzy focused on trying to even out her breaths, her gaze never leaving the floor. She shifted her weight beneath the feeling of his stare and shoved her hands in her pockets. It was all she could do to keep from collapsing. The King of Aberrations indeed. She glanced to the door as Cerasus grinned, wanting to get as far away from him as possible, from the surge of power emanating from him. A shudder ran down her spine.
She gasped and startled back at his outburst in answer to her comment, her wide eyes rising to him in surprise. She blinked a few times as she incredulously watched him bound around the room. She shied away from him, keeping as much space between the two of them as possible for fear he had gone mad. It was strange, even unsettling to watch someone in the skin of a grown man and radiating such an overwhelming presence prance about like the child she had first seen him as after being turned.
“I think you spent too much time as a kid,” she breathed as his childlike giggling filled the room. “It’s infected your brain.”
When his demeanor and laughter changed in a heartbeat, it felt like her stomach dropped. A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature encompassed her, and she stepped ever so slightly closer to the door, which she had left open.
She watched him warily as he went to an interior wall. Expecting his strike to only leave a large hole in its wake, Izzy gasped and stumbled back at the effect his fist had, tripping on her own feet and falling hard to the floor of the classroom as the walls and part of the ceiling of the building completely collapsed, stirring up a plume of plaster dust and debris, and a squealing rain of desks crashing down from the upper floor over the classrooms. She sat there, stunned. For a couple seconds, her lungs forgot how to work. At last, she managed a quivering exhale as the dust slowly began to settle.
What have I done? she thought, still staring at the gaping hole in the ceiling. She scooted back a couple inches, not trusting herself to return to her feet. She could not get far enough away soon enough. As soon I’m human, she told herself, he won’t be my problem anymore.
“W-what...” she faltered, and swallowed against her fear, unsure if she should ask her question. If he could do that to the building, she shuddered to think what he could do to her if she got on his nerves. She hated to imagine what might have happened to his last thrall, if that rumor was true. “What about our deal?” she finished softly, her voice quiet even in her own ears. “Your limbs for my return to humanity?”

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Izzy returned Carasus’s golden stare for a short moment before looking away. Though calmer now, less menacing, she still could not bring herself to meet his gaze for long.
Calm, she thought with a snort. Right.
Her nose pulled up in a half snarl at, yet again, being called his servant, but she bit her tongue. Her expression turned to one of surprise as he gave his request.
“What?” He wanted to talk? She looked back up to him, ignoring the urge to turn away, as he continued. “Okay,” she answered uncertainly, drawing out the word. She drew in a breath and slowly returned to her feet, still keeping a fair distance between them. She tried to keep her voice even as she continued. “And what is it we need to discuss?”

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What’s wrong with here? she thought, exhaling through her nose, but she dared not voice the complaint. When he left the room, Izzy hurried after him at a consistent jog. She had expected Cerasus to head to the front door, but instead they ascended through the building.
Realizing what Cerasus was looking for, she opened her mouth and pointed toward where the stairs to the roof were, but he had already stepped into a classroom. She went after him, catching the door before it swung closed on squeaky hinges.
“The stairs are just--” Her words cut off with a gasp and she stepped away as a portion of the ceiling blew apart with no more than a glare from him. She leaned her weight heavily on the door frame, her fingers digging into it as the residue of his energy exertion flowed over her, making her shudder, and debris of the ceiling rained down on Cerasus, apparently no more of an irritation than the afternoon drizzle had been for her.
She watched with fearful awe, a knot forming in her stomach, as a pair of wings spread out from his back, making him look that much more like a creature of the night, like the king of darkness itself.
“Show off,” she muttered, trying to sound teasing, to lighten the atmosphere, if even by a fraction, but her voice shook.
She did not bother trying to mimic his transformation.
Steady, legs, she thought, prying her fingers from the door frame. She ran into the room and jumped up through the hole after Cerasus, hoping he was not expecting her to follow on wings. She landed catlike on the roof, then straightened and looked around for him. Thankfully, he had not taken off from the roof, situating himself not far from his self-made exit.
With his back to her and his posture an almost human one, he looked less menacing. But the waves of power that rolled form him warned her otherwise, made her feel like a pathetic excuse of an existence, an existence bound to serve the likes of him, to attend to his every whim. He was a statue carved from the finest marble and formed by the hands of the most talented of sculptors, while she was little more than a mound of playdough squeezed into a messy blob by the hands of a toddler.
The knot in her stomach tightened painfully. She looked to the rooftop, scrunched her eyes shut, and formed her hands into tight fists as she shook her head in an attempt at expelling the thought and feeling.
I am not his servant, she told herself, holding her breath, her mental voice growing stronger as she continued. I’m not his thrall. And I am not inferior to him!
She glanced up when she heard Cerasus’ voice, flinching when she noticed him looking at her. She shook her head at his question, sure he already knew the answer. The overwhelming urge to do as he requested made her walk toward him, but she refused to let him have that much power over her. Though there was plenty of space beside Cerasus where the fencing had fallen, she went to where a portion of it still clung to the rooftop a few feet away and gripped a part of the rusty railing.
“I’d rather stand, thanks,” she said, her voice stiffer and quieter than she would have liked. She tried to keep her posture straight and confident, and expression impassive, not wanting to show him how strong of an effect just his mere presence had on her.
She let silence fall around them for a short moment, trying to steady her nerves, before taking a deep breath.
“What did you want to talk about?” she asked without looking to him, the hollow bar beginning to cave in beneath her grip.

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Izzy looked to Cerasus in surprise. “Really?”
Slowly, Izzy moved to the end of the railing, her gaze leaving him only to make sure she did not step over the edge of the roof. She sat and crossed her legs beneath her, and placed her hands on her knees. She sat there awkwardly, trying to think of something to talk about, her eyes turning out toward the faint glow of streetlights of the town she called home.
“So, uh...” she began, looking at him sideways and trying to sound at least semi-friendly. “Where’s the mysterious Cerasus Orion Damocles from?” she finished, voicing the first conversation piece she could think of.

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Izzy turned her head to look directly at Cerasus at his answer. Her expression softened ever so slightly as his tone. It was not one she had expected to hear from him, be it from nostalgia or sorrow. She could not imagine what it would be like to forget even your own name.
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing in this world, though?” she asked softly.
When he suddenly looked to her, she turned her gaze back out into the distance, not wanting to meet his eyes.
She hesitated at his question, debating on how much she would want him to know. Slowly, she nodded. “Yeah. My family’s lived here for a couple generations.” She snorted lightly. “But I’m going to break that cycle.”

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“My granddad always called it being free-spirited.” Izzy glanced to him. She looked away as he continued, asking his questions, her expression growing sullen. She gave a dry laugh.
“Show me one person who's life has been 'free of strife,' and I’ll give the guy an award,” she muttered. She ran a hand through the lose portion of her hair. “This place... took someone from me,” she said bitterly. She exhaled heavily. “I’d think that you, of all people, would know that there’s really nowhere that’s truly ‘safe.’ Even the middle of nowhere.
“On that,” she began, her voice still grim, now the one eager to change the subject as she placed her hands in her lap, absentmindedly trying to pick at her usual nail polish before remembering there was none. “Why’d you come here, of all places? Got a thing for plains and cornfields?”

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Of all the things Izzy had seen herself doing when she had accomplished her mission, sitting on a rooftop simply chatting for the sake of chatting with Cerasus was certainly not one of them. She glanced up to the stars twinkling above them when there was a moment’s lull in the conversation as Cerasus thought upon her question.
She blinked in surprise at his response, which changed to curiosity as he cut himself off, changing the topic too quickly for her to question it further.
[i]What had he been heading to do that would make him want to stop here? she wondered. Or, was he expecting something to happen?
“If it makes you feel any better,” she muttered when she realized who Cerasus was talking about, "I didn’t even see him flinch when he put it in my hand."
At the mention of “that man,” she gave him a sideways look that said, “Now who’re you talking about?” She inhaled through her nose and turned her full attention to him when he amended his statement.
“Riley mentioned a rumor about that.” And now was her chance to ask about it. “What happened to him? I mean, if his existence is just a rumor to someone like Riley...” She let the statement trail off.

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When Cerasus looked to her, though Izzy wanted to turn away from his piercing stare, she forced herself to hold his gaze, and nodded at his question.
“I never figured you for the sentimental type,” she said, not unkindly, wondering where he kept the sword, or if its storage had something to do with a vampiric power.
When he stood, Izzy uncrossed her legs and got to her feet as well, standing further from the roof’s ledge than Cerasus as she watched him, wondering if he was going to jump. She inhaled and flinched when he instead reached into his stomach. Though not as dramatic as when he had rooted around in his skull, it was still unsettling. Her jaw slackened when he impossibly pulled a sword from himself, blood glistening on the weapon.
Weirdest. Storage place. Ever, she thought as his body healed itself and the blood evaporated. Even so, her gaze locked on the well-crafted sword. Though she was no expert on weapons, it certainly looked like a fine one.
“‘The voyage across the heart,’” she read aloud. She took a partial step closer to get a better look at the weapon, unsure if the inscription was meant to be morbidly literal, or sweetly metaphorical. “That’s an impressive sword.” She glanced away from the weapon to Cerasus. “What was his name?”

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Izzy placed her hands on her elbows, watching Cerasus’ show of swordplay. There was a lethal beauty and power to each of the movements that held her captivated, that made her not want to blink for fear of missing something.
She inhaled and gripped her elbows tighter when the blade passed silently through the pole. Her attention locked on it, expecting the next brush of a breeze to knock it over, but it remained standing. She gasped and staggered back when he raised the sword toward her, her gaze focused on the deadly point as he answered her question.
“You seem no worse for wear,” she said softly, “after, you know, pulling it from your stomach.”

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Izzy released a breath she had not realized she had held when Cerasus drew the sword away.
“Oh.” She shuddered when he turned the blade toward himself, for the most part expecting what followed. After all, he had to have gotten it there in the first place somehow. All the same, it was a strange thing to see, fascinating, but simultaneously disturbing. “That’s... an interesting storage system you’ve got there,” she said, her voice tense and a hand over her stomach as the sword fully disappeared.
“How did he die," she began slowly, partially expecting him to answer with as simple a response as he had to 'what happened to him,' "that the real thing was lost?” Izzy shifted her gaze from where the sword had vanished to Cerasus’ handsome face.