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Southeastern Mir - The Fall
The Draconi swayed slightly from side to side as he heard the Nekomi's voice trail behind him. Asking him if he was alright.
"Ha," he uttered with a bitter laugh "poor kitty. I'll never be alright."
He held onto a tree branch to steady himself with an exasperated sigh.
She reminded him of someone he once knew. Another femme with a confident, flirtatious and foxy demeanour and had a tendency the see the world through a phosphorescent filter.
That demeanour he found to be both admirable and candidly naive. Something he craved but felt the need to reject simualtaneously.
Still, right now he'd place her as his only friend as of yet. Maybe.
The only restraint keeping himself and Max for instance from lashing at each other's throats was the Coon leader, and the need to escort the lost boy. Or at the very least, to help recover him to what can be deemed fit and healthy?
He noted the Lutran-like figure finally acknowledge and consume the bar. Muttering an incomprehensible expression of gratitude from what he could make out.
He overheard a sarcastic retort from the red Spicati. Something about ridiculing the flavour of the ration. The Coon's answer being that she had to budget with her ongoing medical studies.
Folding his arms as the Coon miraculously appeared to have the group’s undivided attention, he listened on as she stated that her Uncle lived near Merecc and that they could seek food and shelter there. She suggested that there may be places along the way but that the safety at this time of the night was questionable.
He rolled his eyes as the group finally made their way. It was never safe in the Fall. Who was she kidding? He did agree with her ‘safety in numbers’ plan, however. Even if the company was less than desirable.
The Draconi started to drift into a deep thought. Weighing up his options on the future of this venture, whether it be long or short. The trip to Merecc may be an eye opener or a fresh slate for him from small town areas around the peripheries of this Forest. He had heard there were more resources there, being more of an urban setting. Should it prove to be high maintenance, however, to conceal his lifestyle in a society with more infra structure and 'tabs' as it were, he'd be sure to leave if and when the group are on their merry way home. The anonymity of surviving in in the Forest may be safer with his habits.
He wouldn't know until he embarked on this journey whilst being with the group so, who knows?
He turned and saw the chatty Nekomi extend an olive branch to the vague Otter boy who she had pointed a fire extinguisher at earlier.
Not knowing the outcome of that conversation, he switched off and focused on the journey ahead.
His weary eyes downcast as he saw the dead leaves, flint and stone become darker and darker as the saturated light started to wither to darker tones. The evening aging deceptively fast.
That's one thing he had not thought of. A torch. He looked up with an inquisitive expression and wondered if anyone looked as if they may have one in their possession.
"Taffy, is it true Lotoris can see in the dark?" He asked jovially "because if I'm proved to be disappointed, we're going to have a
really interesting journey ahead."
He switched off for a minute. Not out of disrespect but because he felt a wave of unease and tunnel vision suddenly hit him. His mind in a slight panic as he realised something he should've done earlier had not been committed to.
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Flashback A tall, coral coloured Diablosi stood against a weathered, moss infested and decaying tree. Long perked vampiric like ears with a suave, dark cerulean parted hairstyle framed his clean cut face. His eyes were a set of nature defying HellGrün green irises that were so bright, they stood tall and proud amongst the darkness. Like a pair of neon flares. Irises echoing a sinister sense of arrogance and need to play cat and mouse.
His demeanour and attire, clad in a leather jacket and jeans suggested his style to be very similar to a young Novan from the 1950s era.
He threw out his arm within the blink of an eye to check his watch. Spiralling deeply black inked tribal tattoos decorating his right forearm and wrist.
He simpered at the reading from his device.
He delved the same inked hand into one of this silken leather pockets and retrieved a cigarette.
Holding it up with the same hand to position it between his index and middle finger, a small flame blue flame was emitted after snapping his fingers upon his left hand twice. Efficiently lighting up his smoke.
Shaking his flopped hand to fan out the solitary oxygen flame of his self catalysed fire, he took a drag and looked down towards ground with his eyelids without moving his craned head.
His ears perked as he heard some rustling through the grass. The sounds were resonating miles away which he picked up about 5 minutes ago.
The scaled figure, ever approaching through the dark as his silhouette was made visible by the moonlight and a lit up lodge not too far, started to lower his sprint to a light jog.
"You're late, Weaver." The Diablosi said beneath an ominous smirk that masqueraded mind-game tones.
Xell’s light jog ended with a few defiant further steps. Standing no closer than 5 metres to spare between himself and the unnatural bête noire before him. Standing with guarded fists.
Feeling violated for his name being known and the fact that it wasn't his original name.
“So the legend is true after all.” The Draconi said “I come to this part of the Fall at 3AM, and the Diablosi himself appears.”
“Your fashion is untimely,” the Diablosi took another hoarse drag of his cigarette “really gets on my nerves.” He said through one side of his mouth with a gritted canine. Pupils constricted and eyes flaring.
Xell felt his posture almost unwillingly shrink before the damned figure ahead of him. His aura was oppressive.
“Still, you’re here now and ready to ask for a favour?” The coral figure shrugged off the noxious tone and sniggered as he looked off to the side. His left hand cradling the elbow of the right which still held the cigarette with fumes blowing into the air.
“Ready to ask for a wish, yes…” Xell recoiled his neck with grimace. Uncertainty starting to hollow out his confidence and holler at the back of his head. Despite seeing the profile of the Diablosi’s head, it still felt like all eyes were on him somehow. Burning.
“This is it how it works, Weaver,” the Diablosi turned and narrowed his look at Xell authoritatively “Legend states that the white Devil offers you a favour.”
He began taking some steps forwards. Xell’s scales twitching in neurotic dance.
This Diablosi wasn’t even white…He continued to pace towards him, still talking.
“Legend states that, any one Novan or Miran, who comes by the lonely path to the edge of the Fall during the last night of any season at 3AM will be granted a favour. The favour of the Ruined King.”
The ever-approaching presence was stinging Xell’s eyes. Not so much a sense of feeling burnt by Fahrenheit but rather the Diablosi’s aura
was like dry ice.
The Draconi was withering to a crouch.
He shut his eyes in discomfort. Opening them up in alarm to see a patch of blisters start to form on the outter most hand closest to the approaching creature. Grey scale segments becoming purple from oxygen deprivation and tumour like swellings proliferating close to rupture.
The Diablosi smiled wryly as he stopped. Throwing his cigarette to the ground and stubbing it. The ashes causing nearby grass to rot to the core.
“I know you’re just trying to escape,” he tilted his head to one side, speaking softly “just factor this, a favour now, is a favour later.”
He Diablosi clicked his fingers on his right hand. Xell’s eyes fixated on the tattoos streaking across his wrist.
There was a moment’s silence. A gust howling through the dead branches of the trees. The whole atmosphere feeling like a barren wasteland. Even the lumination of the moon had disappeared. Instead, borrowed light coming from the distant lodge sparing what sight there was. That, and the ominous monster's eyes.
“That’s it?” Xell stepped back a bit, to ease his body from the irradiating beast. Patches of his skin feeling bulbous. Mostly veiled by darkness but even he noted the crude outlines from the artificial light.
“You know, you didn’t even ask my name.” The Diablosi frowned.
Xell's eyes were once again drawn to the tattoo scattered on the Coral Daemon’s wrist. Strange scribe somehow coming to light within his head.
“Aleksei.”
He mock clapped. Left hand static whilst the tattooed hand propagated the echoing resonance across the fields.
“Sometime, I’ll drop by and I’ll ask you return my favour,” he explained with open arms.
“No questions asked.” He then pointed at Xell menacingly.
Aleksei tilted his head to one side again. Shoving both hands in his jacket pockets again. The popular high school look kid about him. He turned to walk away. His final words clear as if he was in front of Xell’s face.
“I want you to bring me some of that precious Elixir the Mirans and Novans rely on so dearly,” he spoke, back turned and holding a finger up “if you want more advice on how I can help you achieve your ‘favour’, help yourself to
some of the draft I need and you’ll see more of me on the other side.” He smirked, unseen to Xell. His body beginning to disappear into the inky blackness.
A sense of lingering betrayal as heavy as the clouds that started to suffocate the nightmarish skies. Leaving the Novan dragon alone in isolated periphery of the 'Fall'. The light from the lone lodge waning in the distance.
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“Woah… gosh sorry!” Xell almost knocked Nikki over as he bumped into her from the side. He grabbed onto a nearby branch to stop himself from toppling over. Gritting his teeth.
Taking a few breathes in, he managed to stand up and acquaint himself with the real world once again. Noting that the skies had rapidly tarnished to darker shades.
“Well?” he asked out loud, turning around with open palms out “do I really have to ask again whether anyone has a torch or not?”
