Parasitic Addiction

Chapter 1 | Two Weeks

"Darling, we'd never want to destroy your dreams with false hope. We're farmers, we've been for generations. Don't aim for something you can not achieve. Now, there is plenty of opportunities for agriculture in your future." 

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Agriculture. Something that lacked in Rubritha. The sprawling sunlit fields and meadows used to raise livestock, full of rich green grass was now dirtied. Pig, sheep and cow were placed into concrete shelters, if that's what you'd call it. Considering it smelt of decaying life. All of that just for meat, supplied directly to the Bloodling palace which towered above the rocky seaside. Alike most evenings, the air was stuffy, filled with the heat of a summers lasting afternoon and murky clouds rumbled over the distant ocean. The smell of a burning cigar permeated the sickly moisture on the balcony of the blackened palace. An ashtray was tapped several times, flicking the flimsy edge of the rolled paper. 

Thin lips took the blunt, held delicately with two digits, black gloves concealing the pale skin. The horizon growled with thunder, and the warm wind soon ghosted over the figures face. Reddened eyes focused on the jagged rocks laid at the base of the cliff, where the foundation of the palace started. The sea lapped at the edge, swirling a cerulean blue hue each time the water receded. It was simply rhythmic, entrancing the Bloodling to watch with keen slit irises.

"Crimson." A wave crashed upon the cliff side, accompanied by the woman's voice. The man who was addressed turned slowly, his maroon coloured tail curled in toward his thighs, slightly disgruntled at the appearance of another Bloodling. "Shouldn't you be down in the slaves filth?" The tone in the woman's questioning was irritated, and with a glare of her pink eyes it sent Crimson the message.

"I should be." Crimson snorted a puff of smoke out through his nasal cavity, turning to let it bellow into a tiny cloud. It withered away once the oceans breeze swirled in over the cliff. The female let out a sigh, dropping her venomous gaze at the man. "Why did you come to inform me?" Inquisition laced his words, and with that he flicked the cigarette over the balcony carelessly, it was carried away by the gust of warm wind that ruffled their hair. 

"Not inform," Stepping forward with her large boots clacking on the balconies decorative material, "To remind you." Quickly, she snatched a cigar from the gleaming coffee table which rested it's legs next to the railing. 

"Remind me of the promise I made?" Crimson fixed his red hair, slicking it back with gloved fingers. The pair wore matching black uniforms, the woman's hat sat on her head, curled horns poked through the very top. Whilst Crimson's laid on the table, untouched. Unlike the female Bloodling, the man had a prominent red cross slapped on his hat and where his heart would be. "Gustava, I'm aware of what I did." Crimson connected his irises to the woman.

"Yet, you have not given the Bloodlings our weapon we so deserve." Gustava sneered, flicking her tongue down inside her mouth, she then pursed her lips, a flicker of a flame seeped out, trying to light her cigarette. Cursing, the warm wind continued to ruin the fire magic conjured up from inside her. Miffed, she placed the blunt in her breast pocket. "Kairek wanted me to remind you." Gustava turned, facing the entrance where she came from.

"Wait." Crimson's monotonous voice caught her attention. "How much time do I have left?" A flicker of worry dashed between his vision, and he reached for the uniform cap left on the coffee table, sliding it down his horns to rest on his red hair. 

"Two. Weeks." Gustava flashed Crimson an emphatic look, before her usual rosy pink eyes returned to irritation. The back of her flowing ebony locks and large blackened wings left Crimson's sights, the sound of her boots hitting the wooden floors inside the palace hallways vanished.