"Another piece to my..."
In the beginning, you are freshly out of class and a masculine from a favorite book, Forbidden Law, is now standing before you; a masculine from book that you wrote in your free time as an aspiring, engineering intern. The car ride home was so very peaceful before this and you know time waits for no scholar, but your imagination standing here before you with what is the desirable unknown, must be yours to keep secret. So, you remove all inhibition as what you want to call your property now has all life and freedom. Hesitation dwindles and you wonder if his persona matches with your talented mind... You want to test his authenticity before you let him adventure, but you know what he's capable of... You also know that it's him due to the golden cane you crafted in reverence to your own story, a stick the character uses to travel as the Kind of Wands. He holds it with volition and trudges towards you with his chin high, eyes to crescents. And just like that your character is now inches away from your face.
"Don't. Touch. Anything" You spark at the dark figure before.
"Fuck you."
He knows that you're his God.
He snuffs then makes his way to your desk chair, examining the seat before placing his bottom on it. He looks forced. You sit on the bed and plop your forehead into your chapped palms, then suddenly your eyes catch along the vertex of a prism with a pink tint, a small golden piece of pyrite pounded into the center.
"You're wondering why I am here, I suppose" he speaks, breaking your direct contact with blackened eyes. You note that.
"No shit, Sherlock." You reply with the charm of an "actress", waiting for his voice to appear again. Anticipation builds in the depths of your stomach as you comprehend your situation, his fennec foxlike face turning towards you like a doll on rusted hinges.
"The answer is, I am not very sure myself. I was supposed to land in my office, I have a lot of underground matters to handle. And yet somehow, I ended up here in this oddly decorated space of yours." He lies; A connection that has yet to be defined sits between the two of you like a wall made of steel.
You look up at him with a perfected confusion, "What do you mean you 'ended up' here."
He hums, eyes scanning you up and down. Your ears perk up once he stands and cracks his neck, pulling off his jacket and elegantly draping it over the desk chair. He's standing.
"I'm not here to hurt you."
His words shoot straight up your spine. Something about this man draws you in as words tumble from his daggered jaw.
"You can leave." You grumble, dragging your arms in a zombielike manner to the snacks in the drawer of your nightstand, saddened by the fact that this illustration triggers a small fear you left behind: fears of confrontation. Realizing how dangerous his character is, you transition into a state of derealization.
He scuffs at the attitude but nods with an understanding bob, eyes glazing over something to his right. As you think his head shifts over to the left and a hand suddenly takes you off guard. You dodge the blow but stand up quickly. "Are you from the 1800's?! Look at what you're wearing. Look at what you're doing." You blurt, voice firm and hands pulling your hair up into a ponytail.
"I was testing you." He drones, but complexities overstimulate your mind as tense feelings of hatred broil in your direction. "I don't belong here, so why have you summoned me."
Your eyes pull to the right and you notice he's staring blankly at you, mouth slightly agape and eyes twinkling. He seems speechless but conversation snags with each word. You are headed in a in a necessary direction.
"I should be testing you as well honestly. Do you know who I am?"
He taps the collar of his coat then with a swift pull, he slings it over his right shoulder. Leaning into your direction, eyes filled with wrath, you revel at the infamous icon before you.
"Is that what you tell all your prey before you eat them alive?" You tease.
"Excuse me? I'm just a man with a lot of power, not a killer. But either way, whether or not I am, you are still the most breathtaking creature I have laid my eyes on."
You drift out the room as the doorbell rings. As you scurry down the stairs, you feel a ping in your chest and a fuzziness suffuse throughout your body. Your interest in the man was growing rapidly, but you know it's wrong. I mean he literally made himself at home, and you're supposed to throw a lawsuit on his ass. But something about him just felt right.
