Skulduggery Pleasant One Shots

Breaking The Mould

So... I've given Skulduggery a break from the angst stick, but now I have stick lying around with nothing to do with it... What if I started beating Omen with the stick?

Omen Darkly took every opportunity to get away from the lousy Sanctuary funded housing and his ungrateful mother. The floorboards creaked, the plumbing reeked, and the roof leaked. Come to think of it, that was probably why his bedsheets were constantly damp and mouldy. He knew he could have had the bigger, cleaner room, the room planned for Auger, but it hurt too much just being in there. After the prophecy had been fulfilled and the Darkly's were no longer needed, society had cast them to the side with as much regard as one would spare an empty can, leaving them bankrupt. None of them even cared that their saviour had passed away from injuries just weeks after defeating the Unnamed. Omen nervously gnashed his teeth, as he once again moved to open the blistered and distained mockery of a door that would inevitably open the 'doorway', so to speak, for his mother's incessant intolerance. Now that his brother was gone, she seemed somewhat paranoid with his whereabouts, which he hoped was her caring but knew better. All his brother's responsibilities and roles had been forced onto him, the backup child, making him bare the weight of the world on his shoulders. He paused before the tarnished doorknob, the uncertainty of his mother's reaction to the news he brought opened his insecurities like a fresh wound. His apprehension in this task had eagerly tailed him like a lost puppy during his heavily procrastinated walk back from school. Just as an icy gust blew through the grimy street, sending the withered autumn leaves crunching, Omen felt his resolve harden and he pushed open the door. As he stepped into the stifling threshold, the change of air was immediate; the slightly smog-tainted yet refreshing autumn air melded into a musty and unpleasant draught that became nearly suffocating when the door slammed shut behind him.

"Where have you been?" Emmeline Darkly demanded with a semblance of restraint that failed to mask the irritability in her tone. "School ended an hour ago!" Omen took a deep breath and clenched his fists, preparing himself to take this risk. He raised his head and met his mother's animosity filled glare.

"I've been offered a place in a government funded overseas study program," he said it calmly, consciously suppressing his instinct to blurt it out. His mother was hypocritically vexed whenever he was inarticulate, a habit that was beaten out of him at a young age but still attempted to rear its ugly head. Mother Darkly narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Why you? It's not like you've ever been a model student." Omen felt a pang of irritation and hurt and the jab. That was wholly untrue, despite the assumptions surrounding his circumstances, he made decent grades recently, due to effort, ingenuity, and sheer dumb luck. His mother would know that if she bothered to pay attention to what happened in his life, rather than gambling away what little money they had to try and buy back favour, as soon as it entered her possession. Didn't anyone ever teach her that you couldn't buy friends?

"A handful of students in my biology class were granted a scholarship into Pinto University for a degree in Biology!" Omen's dissipating apprehension began to seep back in once he caught wind of his mother's unimpressed and ignorant expression. She crossed her arms.

"So that's it? After all this family has done for you, you are going to leave me here, in poverty to do everything myself, to go off to some mortal university!?" Omen frowned. That is not what he was trying to say! And there was nothing wrong with mortals! He was sick of the pointless stigma that had built up around them in sorcerer communities. At least he was happy in the mortal world. Didn't she want him to be happy? "Well, I won't have any of it! You're not going to go on some risky trip for biscuits to get a pointless degree in pyrology!"

"It's biology," Omen meekly whispered, to himself rather than his fuming mother.

"Same thing! You are not going to go get some sparkly diploma! I need someone to cook and shop and-" Omen zoned her out, finally growing tired of his parents' years of dominance and neglect. The only useful thing she had done was make his choice a lot easier. He had nothing left in Roarhaven worth staying for. Never had vanished and Auger was... He made for the exit. A hot stubby hand wrapped around his wrist. "Where do you think you're going!?"