The King's Possession ✔️

FOUR

Word Count: 2127

My day off. I've been looking forward to this.

My interaction with the Hunter, whose name I never caught, was undeniably taxing. Fran and Jessa spent last night speaking very little about their experience with him. Fran seemed calm, soothed by the fact that he is far more normal than we predicted. Jessa however, woke up this morning dusting makeup onto her face again. When I questioned her about it, she dismissed me, denying her desire to impress the client.

Today, I'm not going to worry about that. Him. This is my day off, and I'm going to spend it doing what I came here to do.

Preach.

The streets are padded with snow, tendrils of frost encrusted against the corners of the stained-glass windows I approach. Bars like this one are usually seen as unsavoury places, especially at this time of the day. But on a Sunday afternoon, after a heavy snowfall, this is the only open place where people would be gathered.

The people drawn to this bar during mid-afternoon are desperate, lonely and usually short-tempered, but this has been my first opportunity to get some preaching done, so I can report my success back to my family.

Pushing open the doors, I let the scent of yeast, unmopped floors and dirty shoes hit me square in the face. Unpleasant, but preaching usually is.

I spy my first target. A man sitting at the bar, leaning over a half-empty glass.

He's one of the few people in here. One group speaks casually around a small table in the corner, gambling, no doubt. The man I approach is fair haired - an uncommon sight in the Azure Province. As I glide into the wooden seat beside him, he glances up, further into his adulthood than I first assumed.

"Excuse me sir, may I have a moment of your time?" I ask, jumping into conversation right away.

He shifts, leaning an elbow against the bar, drink forgotten. He reeks like alcohol, likely here to forget something. He may be on the verge of drunkenness, but I still hold onto hope that some of my words will resonate with him. Although, as I lay my small book upon the surface of the bar, the forest green cover with golden lettering glittering under the light above us, his expression sours.

The way his gaze finds mind, half-lidded and lazy, has my heart soaring into my throat. "You can have all my time if you're wanting it."

"Uh, I have a Tani, that I'm spreading awareness on."

"Tani? How interesting."

There's no bite to his tone, only feigned interest. He leans his head against his palm, smiling at me. He's not trying to be nice, I can sense it. He's luring me, perhaps seducing me; I'm not a fool. He's likely a useless patron to target, but nonetheless, I persist. It's either this, or sitting in the snow, waiting for someone to wander past while my clothes soak through.

"My Tani is a Guardian, we call him The Beast. He blesses us with brilliant crops each year, as long as people pray," I explain to him, flipping open my book.

My scribbled handwriting, almost toppling upon itself, is impossible to read. But the picture, a drawing of what we imagine the beast looks like. Dark fur, green eyes, clawless. A Beast, but not a threat.

"You're very beautiful, ma'am. Has anyone ever told you that?" he inquiries, his tone making me feel ill. Balancing on one foot, he pulls his chair closer, until our knees practically touch. As much as I want to pull away, I remain where I am. Mother always told me that preaching is about building a relationship, trust. I cannot do that while being repulsed by him.

But I still make a note to clear my throat, hoping to draw a boundary.

"So, I'm here to ensure that as many people pray on the night of the Plantation. I was wondering-"