Puppeteer (Old)

Percy Whisks Me Away

Percy nods. "I like it. Thank you for gracing me with such an elegant name, my lady." 

I shake my head, pleased with myself but not allowing myself to show how the approval effects me. "It fits you, that's all." I don't tell him about my almost-plan to dub him Pickles, even though he pretty much figured it out. I still have my immense pride. 

That other-worldly curiosity bugs me again, demanding an explanation for the burning of the roses. "Percy, do you know why my roses...were destroyed?" I ask to quell the itch on my heart. 

Percy tilts his head as if he was a curious animal. "Perhaps another has powers such as yours?"

I want to strangle him. "That isn't a direct answer, idiot!" 

He smirks like he's the smartest being on the planet. "I am not one to give direct answers." 

Well, obviously. I sigh in defeat and surrender my control on the conversation. I focus on water particles in the air and make little bubbles, which float like lanterns around me. Simply out of boredom.

"You are well practiced, and indeed that is good to see," says Percy, who steps forward and takes a bubble in his hand. It floats to him without complaint, because I command it to. As much fun it would be to explode it on him, he just praised me and I'm not as spiteful as most think. 

"It is quite curious that you'd have such focus, as the others like you can barely control their gifts. Well, that saying, you are the most sure of yourself out of the bunch." His smirk appears, making his childish looking face mischievous. 

"What do you mean, 'others'?" I ask, though judging how the conversation previously went, I'll be damned if I expect a straight answer. My hand finds its way to my jacket pocket, where I slide the beads inside around. Protection from disaster, crafted from the river Styx's clay. String them up and it's easy to wear, but they really don't match anything so I simply keep them in pockets and bags I carry. I have my share of dangerous ideas, so assets like this help. Especially in a world like this. 

"Others meaning the ones who are overlooked by beings such as I, though personally I don't favor being called an object."

"What...what?"

"I'm not necessarily human, Rose."

"Then what are you exactly? An object?"

"Technically, yes. Crafted specifically for the overlooking of you and the others."

"By who? This whole thing is going in circles. I suppose you're not very good at telling stories."

"That is an odd thing to say. I am made by a Creator, but I advise you never to label me as an item. It's quite offending."

"I hope you realize that the only reason I'm okay with...everything...is because I know it's all true. I'm living proof, after all."

"I am aware of this."

I wipe my face, slightly ash-stained. My hands don't fare much better, and I probably made a bigger mess of myself, but I'll pretend it helped so I can get on with life. Without another word, I whip around and head towards the back door, where I came out of. My roses, dead, but behind me now. Metaphors always make me feel better.

I sense Percy behind me, though I don't hear him at all. I suppose I have no choice but to allow his presence, as somehow he's supposed to be here watching me. What I don't expect him to do is grasp my shoulders and pull me towards him.

That's when my vision fails me.