The Custodian Chronicles: Finding Dragons

Bubbles in the Blood

Darkness and boredom reminiscent of that of an angsty teenager shone out of the Darkman's eyes as he watched his master pace. His sleeves were carefully rolled up to expose each of his intricate tattoos that bespoke of a dark tribal past. Their black ink stood out against the severely tanned, ashy skin of their wearer, though he clearly didn't naturally have black skin. His bored, sarcastic gaze slid back and forth under his messy black hair, wreaking of dissatisfaction and repressed resentment and fury. He watched his master like a hawk as the dark sorcerer. Heklis, paced back and forth, and he couldn't be more different that his servant.

The Darkman was dark, quiet, and bored; the sorcerer was lively, animated, and almost crackling with energy. As he paced his arms moved more rapidly than his legs, swinging around displaying his energy, restlessness, and flexibility, causing his hands to move endlessly from his pockets, to rubbing together in front of him, to running through his dark hair, then back to his pockets. The Darkman watched him pace, but most of all kept his eyes on those rapidly moving hands as if making sure they stayed away from him.

This scene played out in utter silence; the only sounds were the steady beat of Heklis's feet on the floor as he paced. If it wasn't for the shimmer in the Darkman's eyes, he'd have blended into the shadowy wall as seamlessly as the bench he sat on. The pair appeared to be waiting for something, but neither gave indication that they even knew the other was there. Two dark shadows mirroring one another in opposition, but unwilling to admit the other existed.

At last, the door opened, and several people stepped into the room. Two guards flanking an overly confidant man in the middle, striding with almost arrogant authority as he approached Heklis. Heklis finally stopped and turned to the cocky fellow as he marched right up to the sorcerer as if he owned the place. "My Lord." He called.

Heklis snapped his head up in pure delight, causing a wicked glint to catch in his dark eyes and an iniquitous grin to spit his face, "Ah," He cooed, "News at lassssst." Heklis held out the s and clicked the t with a dramatic flair, "I've been anxiously awaiting you." And with the same anxious energy, he tossed himself with a single bound into what appeared to be a beanbag chair. The Darkman rolled his eyes, expecting trouble. "What evil delights and treats come our way?"

"He's dead, sir."

"That fool is dead, like really dead?"

"Yes," The man who carried such authority's eyes widened and his brows drew together, "You didn't know? I thought this wouldn't be new to you. I mean when you lost connection, I thought you'd have figured it out, as you are so wise, my Lord."

"I knew I couldn't find his head." Heklis's eyes glinted in utter excitement. "Did he removed his head?"

"No sir, he did not." The man frowned perplexedly.

"Awwwww," Heklis complained with all the whininess of a toddler, wiggling back into his beanbag seat. "Did he, at least, nick his neck or head or anything to do with the brain?"

"No."

"Snap his neck?"

"No sir, he did not harm his head, neck, or any other part having to do with his brain." The authoritative man made sure to cover his bases.

"Not even a little," Heklis continued to complain, sitting forward and putting his fingers millimeters apart.

"No sir, he just ran him through."

"Through the heart? Was it dramatic? Did he make a funny noise? Like this," Heklis demonstrated a truly disgusting girgle, flopping where he sat. Heklis's foolishness made the Darkman roll his eyes to the ceiling as if the ceiling was the only one that understood him.