POV: Narus
Location: Dovve, Dyonegar
Time: Evening
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A chariot of emotions. This pact between fear and guilt was a consequence for stumbling into her world again. Reflections kept the priest awake as he reminisced pleasant times. Although he seemed to be married to misery, immersed in the monstrous transformation that forced him to flee from her years ago.
Tending to his potted Spath on his chamber's desk, his thoughts wafted. Three days. It'd been three days since he last saw her radiant smile. He brought his glasses over his eyes, his mind lost in the bittersweet moments they had together, until a pair of light footsteps echoed across the corridor. With a slight tap on the door, a silvery voice turned him. "Father Benoventeg, do you require anything before I retire tonight?"
"No, thank you. Sleep well, Marvi."
"To you as well, Father... Good night."
He sighed in disappointment, the foggy night's void pulling him to the window. Ever clear, every detail of his haunting memory unraveled. A night of sin and malice.
[His Memory]
Within the cellar, among the tossed barrels, splattered blood, and stale wine cradled something abysmal. It resembled a crude laboratory, a magnetic mix of genomics and sorcery, and his stasis marked the centerpiece of it all. The frozen hibernation tank thawed with a simple push of a button on the control console, the hatching vapor desaturating the scene of two figures for his eyes to see—an elder man believed to be his creator and an aberrant hostile. Then suddenly, so suddenly a painful hunger knotted his stomach, a fleshy taste twirling around his tongue. His pale lips stretched a sinister smirk, and he emerged from the cylinder he called home. This creature staged himself—a tall, thin, manic looking humanoid being with sanguine stained eyes—he seemed underdeveloped, primitive, simple minded. Without another second to waste, the hostile stretched the blade embedded in his arm and cleaved the elder man, opening his chest.
The creature watched indifferently as his master's eyes bulged, his knees dropping to the floor. His dying body trembled, the creature's cold stare locked onto his creator, until a soft sobbing caught his attention. It veered his head to the sub storage floor panel across from him. A pair of teary golden eyes peeped through the crack, and instantly, he flustered.
"Kessire, dec moundi peus!" his dying master would exclaim, his last command before the hostile pierced his back into the blood-soaked floor.
The killer retorted, "I could have sworn I punctured a lung. Why are you still breathing, you fat piece of shit?"
"Ah, so that's where this insatiable hunger is coming from." Ravenously, Kessire licked his lips, approaching him. "You should be honored… being my first meal. I will ravish you, demon."
"Hmph, what? Am I supposed to be threatened by one of Darith's faulty experiments?" he affronted, withdrawing the blade from the corpse.
"Faulty?" He grinned ear to ear, and with a quick impulse, he savagely pounced on the intruder. His fangs burrowed deep into his neck as he plunged both of them against the floor with crazed hunger. Drink, drink, and drink he would, savoring the stream of red that sent his soul into a frenzy. This liqueur of utmost sinful delight pumped fire into his body. And although the Dessarian would fight back, jabbing the same makeshift blade that killed Darith into Kessire's side over and over again, Kessire would persist.
"GET THE FUCK OFF ME!" A powerhouse of energy pushed Kessire away. As soon as he got on his juddering feet, he glared at the creature, a hand over his bleeding throat. With a mutter under his breath, the demon vanished in a blackened haze.
Kessire sighed in delight, turning to the access panel enclosing his little mistress. She cowered away at his glance, quickly hiding herself with a loud thump of the door shutting closed. He walked over, then lifted the cover, greeting the coiled-up girl with a soft smile.
She undoubtedly saw what he did, noticed how demonic he looked, and even caught his scarce apparel over his self-healing wounds. To her, the pale, ivory-haired creature may have seemed just as bad as her father's murderer, but as he pulled out his hand, she unhesitatingly took his offer. Kessire helped her up, taking her into his arms. He brushed his finger over her teary cheek, giving her a sense of security. "I will protect you." His eyes faded into a soft sapphire blue, hist body towering over her after he had settled her down. "Call me, Kess."
The torment had seemed to carry on for days. Syreene grieved, had many nightmares and night terrors. The memory fastened to her mind like flies on a corpse. And with no experience in taking care of anyone, the challenges for Narus were endless. Dawning back on those trials, he brought himself over to his desk, taken with regret.
"K, I'm hungry…" Young Syreene pouted, rubbing her grumbling belly while she tirelessly trekked the empty desert terrain.
"As am I…" His eyes fell deeply into the sunfall, its hot wrath baking his pale skin. Fortunately for Syreene, consumables were ready for the thieving. As for Kess, he hadn't fed since the attack in the cellar, and he needed to drink demon blood to survive. He grew weary, trying his very best at keeping the beast at bay. Just a few miles further, the horizon of the town stood just beyond the hills.
Then, Kess heard a thud.
The little girl surrendered to the immense heat and dehydration, hopelessly dropping on her bottom. Kess scooped her up and sat her on his shoulders. "I didn't expect to drain so much so quickly. I must have underestimated my hunger, as well as yours, little one. We shall reach our destination soon."
Garbed in drab attire, the traveling duo circled the small settlement and its cornucopia of the elven race. Gasps and gossip glided between men and women huddling themselves in packs in the market hall, wary of Kess, who seemed more human than elven. He stood before a produce merchant, studying the plentiful fruit upon the racks. "I'll have half a dozen pomegranates, and four pounds of apples." Kess requested, watching the perplexed elder merchant staring at the sleeping girl on his shoulders.
"What are you doing with one of ours, outsider?" His assertive voice cracked, noticing the tall human leaning over.
"Pardon?"
Whispers stirred among the crowd, the aura around Kess growing incredibly hostile.
"That little girl on your shoulder! She's a pure elven, unlike you savages from the west! Did you snatch her up to make a profit? To sell her to those vile Monokenns?" He pushed himself aside, baring the dagger flared to his hip. "You have some nerve coming back here and demanding food!"
"Heh." Kess chuckled, calmly carrying Syreene to his chest. "You need to deescalate your voice. I wouldn't want her to wake up."
"Deescalate this, vermin!" Quick to his blade, the elder lunged into him, countered by a stern grapple around his wrist. Kess yanked him in, face to face, the terror in the old man's diluted eyes on Kess'.
"How about we try a different approach…" he whispered, the crowd witness to an uncommon impasse. "Allow me to feed her or lose an arm. Either way, one of us is getting fed tonight." He flashed his fangs, extending them as soon as the old man began to whimper. Before the elder could utter another word and warn the villagers, Kess tightened his grip and interjected, "Shh, shh, do you really want to be a catalyst to a massacre?"
"Come on, Annukae, just give him the fruit," a smooth voice stretched out from the crowd, and with it, a soft-framed, raven-haired maiden.
"Here, take it! Just leave, please!" the old man pleaded as he piled a basket topped with sweet reds and oranges, an offering before Kess' feet. He retreated behind his station as the woman approached Kess.
"Now don't be rude to our guest. He's obviously a traveler, with possibly no place to go and no place to stay. And judging by how light you're carrying, you don't have much to spend either. Now these assumptions are subjective," she boldly leaned in, stroking Syreene's hair, "but I bet my black horse I'm right." Kess answered with a halfhearted grin. "She's so precious. Is she yours?"
"Uh, no, she isn't…"
"Hmm, you're right. She doesn't appear to be a Halfling. A friend?"
"I'm her guardian."
"She's so cute. I could just nip at her fat little cheeks!" She giggled. "My name's Lleighan. And you are?"
"Kess. Syreene and I are just looking for a temporary place to reside, after her parents…" He hesitated. "We don't have much, but I am willing to work in exchange for a place to stay." The crowd dispersed, cold stares drawing away from him.
"Noted!" She grabbed their basket as they proceeded to walk side by side. "Don't mind the villagers. They're just paranoid. Word has it that the Kuruu tribe have been sneaking around at night kidnapping little girls to sell to Monokenns because they are dying out from the recent demonic cult invasion. Pfft, where do they come up with this stuff, right? As if Kuruu haven't died out decades ago from drought. In any case, I got pulled into these myths myself and kept to my little neck of the woods by Valor Mountain. It's nice and quiet, and thanks to an ol' haunted legend, no one ever creeps up there! Bad for business though. I haven't had a guest in my inn for as long as I could remember. But you seem like the type who can handle himself."
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