⧫Dire Crowley
⁴.⁵ ᵖᵃᵍᵉˢ
A snooping crow with webbed wings tucked itself behind the stone wings on a gothic throne. Beak popping around the edge, it observed carefully. Unlike any other dorm, the dorm of Diasomnia possessed genius quantities of magical presence. That is, to say, a majority of the dorm were fae-born and thus magic inclined. Hunkering down into the shadows of green fire, he eavesdropped.
"How art thy daily travels? Has't thee unearthed new concerns of late?"
"Regrettably, I can not regale you." Draconia answered.
"Ah." Vanrouge smiled and handed his young master the cup of tea he prepared. Sipping his own drink, he closed his eyes, "And anent distaff?"
He choked on his tea. Coughing, "A feminine branch?"
"Aye, didst any suitable hands cross thy eyne in the past–" he waved his hand "–sun?"
"A day? Suitable– Lilia, please, this is not circling the fabled 'female student'. Lilia?"
Vanrouge kept his eyes peacefully closed.
From his perch, Crowley cringed. The thought—the image—his lord's glory mixed with Draconia? Of all beings!? He could vomit. He nearly blew cover to crow at them for such a heinous proposal.
Pink dusted the sharper areas of Draconia's features. "I do not require a jointress."
"But has't thee beheld? Intransigent, apt, zesty: a pair of bats thee make. However beef-witted the lady react. Fie, such sanguinary measures over the sanative? I wast not ware such creature lived. How hast the lady survived a sennight?"
Draconia arched a brow listening to the other ramble on and on and on and on about Miss Dare. Mostly, the older fae spoke in exasperation, but–
"And... you?" Draconia cleared his throat. "A suitable hand has crossed your eyes?"
A suitable hand? Did this prince bother with common discreetness or did his spoiled livings raise foolish boldness? The implication painted clear as a black bird against the blue sky!
Vanrouge... and... HER!?
His feathers puffed.
Insulting. No, worse, CRIMINAL! His lord's name shall never be erased by the likes of Vanrouge. He'd wring the bat's neck himself!
The next words from Vanrouge spilled slow and deliberately picked.
"If it be true that thou art trying to turne the question on me, harken, and I shall has't thee know mine own intentions art less than moral."
Crow Crowley whipped his head around the corner.
Draconia frowned but waved a hand.
"The lady claims to be of godhood," he said. "I quoth this calls for... celebration."
His cheeky grin rubbed Crowley all the wrong ways.
"Godhood? Could you possibly mean..."
"Aye. The He of Evil has't claimed a fresh, competent, scantling and rid of the excess. Natheless, the lady hath nay sooth a clue. Ah, however, I bethink an invitation captives her hither?"
His giggles echoed and bounced in the illusion of separate voices: squeakier and screechy.
"...You believe it wise to speak so boldly in this room?"
The smokey fireplace crackled. Stone walls and arches climbed excessively high. If Crowley focused, he could taste the abundant traces of magic in the lounge. But, all he sensed were the two seating in leather chairs in front of him and himself.
YOU ARE READING
Twist of Fates
Fanfiction"I see," The Mirror of Darkness' tone commanded silence and received it in waves. His deep treble bounced uncharacteristically: a subtle smirk within his mask. "An innate ruinous soul b'rn to ign'rant human flesh... such disastrous possibilities..."...
