Part Two
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Vellis felt the blood drain from his face. "Under... what?"
Was that what he was? An underworldling? What they called vampires? He didn't know if he liked it better or worse as a name.
The man sneered at him. "Don't play stupid, I know what you are, they"--he jerked his chin towards the other two--"know what you are. And you," his eyes bored into Vellis, "know as well."
The spear tip moved up his chest to pressed firmly against his throat. "I don't. I..." It was useless, maybe worse than useless. If he argued, the man might choose to put the spear through his neck, which sounded extremely unpleasant.
"Don't move."
Behind him, he heard Castian's low groan. Then they walked past. The girl had him in a firm looking grip, a hand in his hair to keep his head still. Her blade dug into his throat. The other man came up by Vellis side, wrenching his arm back behind him. The spear remained steady at his neck, not giving an inch.
They had taken him to the camp they were in now. Over the hills and through the damnable grass that had hidden them so well, to where he'd spotted smoke earlier.
It hadn't been long after that that Castian was dragged, half conscious into one of the tents. Vellis was unceremoniously dumped into the wooden cage, and left there. It had been three days, and the only food he'd gotten was the rotted fruit they pelted him with.
Underworldling, the name was on all their tongues, full of scorn and loathing. He'd realized, after getting a better look at them without the stress of a spear at his neck, that he'd seen some of them before, at the battlefield. These were.... sleeker, as if build for running, but they were also obviously the same sort of creature. Or, at least as similar as a lion to a tiger.
He watched one of them walk past, a bag of fruits over her shoulder. He groaned under his breath, trying to ignore the hungry feeling inside his stomach. He'd eaten the fruit they'd thrown, or at least what wasn't so rotten it would make him sick. Still, it had turned his stomach, and it tasted like dirt and ash instead of food.
Hungry.
He shut his eyes. He was always hungry now though, even before this. No food seemed to taste right, and none was truly filling as it should be. Not since he'd changed. Not since he'd become like Taff.
Emotions were one of the only things that seemed to make the hunger stop. He could take them away from others. Drain them into himself. It made him feel sick in an entirely different way. Twice, he'd done it to Taren, when the boy was sad and trying to hide it, and several other times to staff.
And for a few days, he would feel almost alive. It warred sharply with the self loathing and disgust.
A girl stopped in front of his cage. Her feline eyes were dark with hatred. She spat. It hit his cheek and he reached up and wiped it away without a word.
She hissed, grabbing one of the bars and coming closer. "Scum."
He stared at his boots, fingers tapping against the bottom of his wooden cell. She didn't move. After a long few moments, he looked up. Her hate was like a burning fire, the heat of it washed over him, sinking into his skin. He could take it. If he got just a little closer... He could feel his heart beating faster. Hungry.
Always so hungry.
"Go away." The edges of his words were raspy. "Go away."
She leaned closer, eyes burning into him. "You don't give commands, Underworldling."
He grit his teeth. Then Vellis leaned back against the bars behind him. He closed his eyes. Annoyance wafted off of her at the lack of a rouse. Good, maybe she'd get lost.
Someone called a name he couldn't quite make out, and she pushed roughly off the bars, making the entire cage vibrate. He twisted his lips up into a sneer.
"Run on, little kitty, someone is calling you."
She snarled, and he cracked an eye open in time to see her spit at him again before stalking off.
With a sigh, he wiped at his face, using the edge of a filthy sleeve. Nothing to do but wait. Just like there'd been nothing to do but wait yesterday and the day before that.
Nothing at all.
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So, any thoughts on this new pov? I've kind of wanted to add in another point of view foreverrrrrr.
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...
