Part Two
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"You. Who are you?" Her voice was low and hard, accent utterly foreign. And Castian knew a lot of accents. The wind jerked at her long, black braid. Her loose, mottled clothing flapped about her. Her skin was a shade darker gold than the grass, and looked... Fuzzy? Yes, short fur covered it. And there, what he'd taken for tattoos on her forearms at first glance were intricate patterns made up of darker brown fur. Her eyes, sharply tilted and a green brighter than newly opened leaves were fixed upon him. Long ears twitched, the tips sticking over her hair. She held a long spear in one hand.
"What the hell are you?"
Maybe it wasn't the best thing to demand, under any circumstance, but definitely not when she was the one with the weapon. And he was the intruder. Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "I ask the questions here, World Killer." She leveled the spear at his face, tip flashing purposefully in the light. "You answer. Who, are you?"
World Killer. Castian bristled, despite of, or maybe do to the fact there was a spear in his face. Yeah, no, the spear wasn't helping his mood any. "Look girl, I have killed a lot of things, but the world it's one of them, so if you could just," he reached up and grabbed the spear shaft, right above the head, "get this the hell out of my face, that'd be totally great."
She hissed at him. Legitimately hissed. Then she yanked the spear back, slicing his hand in the process. Castian swore violently.
"Who. Are. You." She gave the spear a shake on each word, his blood spattering off it onto the grass. "Who."
"Castian Cortane, Prince of the Werefolk and seven demon kingdoms," he snapped, sarcasm almost dripping from the words. He rolled his eyes. Was she serious? Was this serious?
"You," she stuck the spear farther into his face, forcing him back as he tried to sit, "aren't a Were, and there are six demon nations, all subjugated." What... He... Fine, apparently she liked screwing with him back.
"Fine, I'm not. And we both know neither of those things are real. What the hell are you?"
She clicked her tongue in a sound of annoyance. No, disgust. "Ignorant World killing savage," she hissed, her sharp teeth showing for a moment.
"Me savage?" He laughed, putting a fingertip to her spearpoint. Damn, it was sharper than he'd expected. Castian put a shit grin on through the pain. "Honey, I'm not the savage here."
The spear pressed harder against his finger, breaking the skin. His grin stuck like a plaster, teeth bared. Then she pulled it back. Her face was in his before he could blink. Castian recoiled, head bouncing on the dirt. She grabbed his shirt front. "We don't keep your kind," she growl, jerking him up with her. God, she was strong. And taller than him by several inches, just enough that if she held her arm out he'd have to stand on his tiptoes. Castian knew this because it was the first thing she did. Then she shook him, hard. He clutched at her wrist with his good hand, snarling in the back of his throat. This alien piece of...
She stopped abruptly, pulling his face to hers. So close, he could see her fur ripple in the wind. Totally cool as hell, if she hadn't been strangling him with his T-shirt.
"What was that?"
"What?" he wheezed, flashing his teeth. She showed hers in return, and his definitely weren't impressive compared to their razor edges.
"You were thinking about me. What was it?" Her fingers tightened, despite the even tone of her voice. Another person who got deadly calm when they were mad. Just his luck. Just his stupid, pitching luck.
YOU ARE READING
An Assassin In Time
Science Fiction(ON HOLD) If time couldn't hold you, what would you do? Castian was born inside a Field, outside of time. He has no timeline. He belongs nowhere, and anywhere. The Field he was in was destroyed when he was young, and he and four other children...
