An Eminence? No, I am just a reaper (OC story)

Her name is Alpha-3

Speech = ''.....''

Thoughts = [... ...]

ºº

When he had decided to..indulge the girls need to vent out the emotional built up that had placed her in distress.., he had done so more mechanically than he had expected, almost as if driven to do it before he had formulated a well thought rational plan to tackle the matter.

He had also expected with no small amount of resignation a long tirade before him. Where she would try to grant him empty and useless words of gratitude he did not want between sobs, break down in tears or just remain silent as the grave while she tried to work out on her own to check and quell her disruptive emotional impulses which were granting her no small amount of grief.

Try being the key word...

Looking back, it was not like he loathed such development..., or lacked a profound understanding or interest of her current situation. Apathy was not at play here.., not yet, he was... merely tired of it.

The realization dawning on him like a heavy load over his shoulders, making him feel, if only for a brief moment the weariness of his bones. Of the copper taste like taste of ashes made from ashes in his mouth, of the malevolent tide of nothingness woven into his very bones, pulling from him...

He clenched his jaw albeit slightly..., dismissing those feeling of weakness, though the bitterness they brought was still there.

It would always be there..

How many times? How many times the same rhyme had passed before his eyes? A hundred times? More..? Their faces became blurry in his memory..., but not the look in their eyes as they stared at him through the mist.

Blue, green, red...they were all the same. Bearing that look of betrayal..., of loss, of misery now reflected on those eyes of the little girl standing before him. The one that she had wore back in the confines of her own mind, and one that persisted under the erratic stream of emotions flying left and right.

She was confused, she was happy..., hopeful, angry, hurt and more, so much more...

In other words, she was a mess, one of his own creating and one that he did not needed to be a seer to know that a few simple words would not patch her wounds, and they will leave scars.

He almost grunted with annoyance at what he had thrown himself into whether he had intended it or not..

Given the way of things have gone.., that should have been obvious. What it had not been that much was the way she swung between a formal and informal disposition, her voice and composure shifting between that of the child she was and then the one of a more mature individual. Whether it was by her own nature or his own power channelled through her veins at work he did not know yet. What he knew was that her mind as in turmoil as it was..., was holding into dear life to control her own emotions.

She had tried to hide them..., she really had, but she may have been wearing them on their sleeves under his glare as her eyes changed colours in an almost endless glinting show of red and blue lights while the conduits started to flare up all across her pale skin. Marring it and making her appearance became more...exotic if not grotesque in some sort of way.

After all, there were few kind words to say about a small blond thing having the appearance of a toddler trying to emulate their warrior elders by painting her face in war paint. If only that was war paint...

The bright glow of those marks would always remind him of his...failure. A reminder of sorts..

The fact she had not noticed the changes taken place or how her fangs were easily sliding out the covers of her lips, sharp and long was nothing more than a small mercy..one that he knew would not last long in time if the apparent inquisitive nature of the elf whelp had anything to say about it..