Morons and Monarchs

Chapter Fifty-Six: Drystan (My favorite character!)✂

It is always the same, really.

I always watch, always write, I never hear, I never speak. I was never supposed to.

My parents were part of a clan long since lost, a clan where everybody married within their own bloodline, a clan of Umbra Ones- beings made of darkness that kill with light. Yet when I was born, a bastard child born in their bloodline but with very little of their powers save for my dark hair and tears of sunlight, and my eyes sometimes reflect the moon but really, I have nothing that is the same as them.

I don't know who my father is, and by my powers, I don't wish to. My mother was banished after I was born, she was unhonorable and brought nothing but disgrace into my grandparents world.

I never saw her.

My Grandma thought, though, very vividly that any shameful being such as myself should be hidden, so she sewed my lips together when I was five.

It hurt, I still remember the pain. It was excruciating, but I learned. I learned very quickly. I learned that she could banish me as well; Gods, she banished her own child to Odio- what would she do to me? Her disgraceful grandchild?

I generally stay out of her way, to be honest. I am not a coward, but I have enough self-prevestory to not get burnt, thank you very much.

I remember being created, though. Although it was not Fae who made me- but stars and the moon, and these invisible hands that clasped my cheeks as they sucked the life out of me.

I remember that quite vividly. Invisible hands, four of them, reached out to me when I was around 6 years old. I was dreaming- of something now I can't quite remember- and they pulled me out of my dream. I remember eyes- cold, almost sickly eyes- boring into mine, making me feel smaller and shriveled. Like I was even littler than I really was, and I remember when they started pulling my life from my body.

Pulling my entire being from my own small, frail flesh- sucking the marrow from my bones until I became as sickly as the eyes that still crackled into mine.

Until nothing was left. Until those eyes disappeared within my mind and chest, I remember never seeing them again as I was deposited back into my dream realm. I never really thought of them until I heard a voice in my mind later that day- after my grandma yelled at me for not taking the trash out earlier, the voice scoffed and said a few 'key' words to her.

I was shocked she couldn't hear him.

I haven't heard from that voice since I turned seven years old- at least, I hadn't until today.

I met a girl- Anul, her name was.

When the girl was behind me, walking loudly, calling after me, the boy within my mind sniffed the air and smiled, making me do so as well.

"She knows an old friend," He had told me. His voice gravelly, making me shiver. "Sorry, darling," He had taken heed of my petty silence. "I didn't feel it necessary to butt into your affairs until now."

It took you 394 years, I had commented mentally.

"And you have been missing me for so long as well," He chuckled. "I am flattered, darling, but really, it is unhealthy to wait on me. "

I had wanted to throw the trash bag at myself to see if he would shut up.

"Hey, no need to get violent. And, I am not that easy to get rid of." He replied.

I had told him that I would one day get rid of him, but he did not heed the warning. Instead, he had ignored me again, making snide comments toward the girl as we had spoken- or written, for that matter.

And now we are here, I swing the trash-bag into the dumpster as I still yell at the boy.

SO WHY DIDN'T YOU SPEAK TO ME WHEN I RAN OVER ALL THOSE PEOPLE TRYING TO READ A SIGN??? OR WHEN I DID ALL THIS OTHER DUMB STUFF OVER THESE 394 YEARS??? I counter, screaming within my mind.

"Because you needed your own time," Is all he replied.

The boy was always super calm, never yelling, always serene yet terrifying.

"Why," He began. "Do you keep calling me that?"

Because I don't know your name.

'Yes, Drystan,''he murmurs. "You do."

I shrug. Just as you forgot to say goodbye to me, I forgot your name. I know it was a low blow, but he deserved it.

He seemed disappointed.

' "Phobos," He pauses. "My name is Phobos."

Okay, Phobos, I wish I could have put my hands on my hips without seeming like the crazy lady walking the street. So what have you been doing for 394 years?

"Nothing," He immediately answered.

I am going to assume that you have been hiding in a deep part of my unconscious mind riding your own hand. I answered proudly.

"Is that why you have been having wet dreams about me, Drystan?"

I scoff. Yep, I just keep seeing myself walk into you giving yourself a handjob with glee, as I put my hands on either side of your head and caress your sweaty, moaning face and sweetly snap your neck.

"Good thing I am a masochist,"

I almost wanted to groan in frustration. Maybe I don't want him back here after all.

"You do remember that I can read every thought of yours right, or do you just have early-on dementia?" He asks me.

I wish I did, I retort quickly. Then I could just forget each of our encounters.

"Don't say that, Drystan."

Why? You left my obsessed six year old self so quickly, without even a GOODBYE! Which is all I wanted! A Goodbye! But I got none! Because you are insensitive! And a mean person, and you need to stop!
He takes a while to respond. "You were six, Drystan." He continues slowly. As if talking to an insolent child. "You loved me, and you were six. You loved the idea of a person knowing everything about you and still loving you. You didn't want what happened to your parents to happen to you, and you were still only a baby." I heard his gulp. "I hated that your life was so messed up at such an early age, that you loved a person like me just because I knew who you were. Even if I didn't love you back."

And now you do? I ask. That is not hope in my voice as I say it, it was hate and revulsion.

"No, Drystan. I hate you. And I have vowed that since I do, I will make sure I comment on every little thing you do. Every picture you draw, each of those tiny, illegible letters you scrawl, every thought you dwell on. I will judge and make you miserable, because I did not deserve to have to hide myself from you as you sorted out your emotions. It took you 394 years, Drystan, to figure out that you did not love me, you loved the idea of me. You actually hated me. As you should." I could practically hear him scowl. "I do not cower in fear, my darling." A pause. "I abdicate in it."

I shiver as his words rake over my spine.