Upon arriving at his home, he laid the unconscious man on the long couch, covering him with a blanket to protect him from the cold. Next he sat himself on his favourite couch across the room, and under the dim light he finally could examine the face of the stranger.
He portrayed a peaceful semblant, a masculine yet delicate face, thick eyebrows that reflected the moon in the most vibrant red color matching his scarse beard and wavy hair that was long enough to be tied in a manbun in the back of his head . His lips were delicate and full, drawn in a tight line. His neck and whole figure was slender and shorter than him a few inches, and by carrying the unconscious man he denoted he was heavier than he looked.
As the hours passed and the moon eventually conceded her place to the morning sun, the man who was still sitting on his favorite couch examining patiently the heavy sleeper that seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He envied that for a second, before grasping for a bottle of whiskey and a cup off a small table set at the left of his couch and poured himself a drink.
As he sipped the bitter tasting drink, denying the burning sensation that ran his throat he couldn't help but wonder why of all people did he felt the urge to defend that man. He asked himself what had he that someone high in the ranks of Hell wanted him, and apparently alive.
For in that unfair world, everyone who possessed any sort of of mediunic powers were heavily hunted down by such creatures, and eventually died by their hands almost immediately. But in this case they were not looking for him dead, they wanted him alive, he saw that as he looked into one of the poor attackers eyes and saw their true intentions. That made him wonder... Those questions had to be answered. But for now he needed to know who he was, because he knew that whomever was after him wasn't going to be pleased when being notified that his efforts in capturing him failed. All of that ran through his head at an alarming speed, and during that the unconscious man moved slightly grunting, cutting him from his thoughts.
He shifted his concentration at the man, who was opening his eyes slowly and yawning looked around his surroundings becoming automatically alert.
As he sought a way to recover his balance and standing straight the sitting man with the glass of whiskey shot.
"You are one heavy sleeper." He smiled cordially, yet his eyes maintained focused and expressionless, analyzing his face.
"Where am I?" The other man asked confused becoming immediately alarmed when he realized he was in front of the same man who saved him.
"You are in my house of course, if I was to leave you back there you'd freeze to death." His voice was almost amused as he stated the obvious.
His tone of voice took the waking man of surprise, that sat motionless back in the couch with eyes wide in shock and terror.
"It must have been a dream... It's is impossible... Such things don't exist... I must be dreaming." He babbled.
"You saw them didn't you? That's proof enough." The expressionless man spoke again nonchalantly unaware of the shock his words were having.
" Those things don't exist." The babbling man grabbed his head in disbelief.
" They exist as much as you and me exist and are capable of having this conversation." He stood up and walked to the other man who looked like he was just pushed in a pool of freezing water and extended his hand. " My name is Adrian, Adrian Gale."
He smiled calmly showing some comfort to the other man splattered with incredulity. The morning rays of light made the long black and silver locks of his hair shine an unearthly and strange glow, and his face showed a friendly gaze and a general look of concern.
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Rotten - The Cursed, The Curse And The Prophecy (MxM)
FantasyAdrian Gale, occultist and hunter harbours a curse, like a double edged sword that gives immense power in exchange for the consumption of his humanity. Carrying the burden of a troubled past he shields his emotions from the outside world and passes...