The house was far too solemn. It was a beautiful villa, a grey and white colored beauty, with well tendered flowers which were meant to add life and color to the lifeless building, but the multi-colored petals carried a dead air to it, thereby adding to the solemn vibe of the environment.
A massive gate barricaded the lonely road from the villa. On the wide plate in the middle of the grey gate was written 'Siggier and Rosalind'. And far from the gate inside the grey and white villa an exquisitely carved wooden table hosted the meal of a a family of four.
The older man sat at the head. He was a tall and wide man with a cold air around him. He wore a trimmed beard with white strands littering it, and a low cut auburn hair peppered with grey locks. The wide man wore an exquisite grey suit, with the coldest of expressions on his face when he asked in a deep and emotionless voice. "Pass the salt my dear."
The lady fastly passed the salt to him. She too carried cold air. She wore a high shouldered long sleeve ankle length dress, black eyes eyeing the young man sitting across from her. "Eat your food properly, Devereaux, you are not an animal, do not disgust me." She said to the boy, her voice soft yet threatening.
The boy with neck length auburn hair, and black eyes stopped dicing the stake, and proceeded to slowly place the small meat in his mouth.
The man turned his menacing black eyes to the young man. "Devereaux seems to be having problems with control these days. Disgusting, I notice how you act like a useless barbarian these days. I did not train a wild beast, what happened to your lessons on taming your urges?" He spoke with so much spite yet his voice contained no emotion.
Devereaux didn't look the slightest bit offended by their words, he simply chewed, swallowed, and looked towards the boy with a lip piercing. "Pass the salad, Lay."
Lay who was quiet, and even looking a bit terrified, unable to keep up with the rest of the family's emotionless demeanor.
"I received news that you attended some party yesterday. You acted like a pure beast, going as far as to challenge a weakling teen and even snapped his finger. Did you feel good challenging those weaker than you?" The man would not stop his taunting.
Devereaux said nothing, just going on to transfer the salad to his plate. Lay on the other hand cleared his throat and spoke up. "Mr. Rosalind, the boy…. Uh Roland challenged Dever-"
"It doesn't not excuse anything." The woman was quick to but in and cut Lay off.
The man nodded, and looked deep into the black onyx eyes of Devereaux who did not look back at him. "I understand, perhaps you have neglected your training far too much. You are grounded to the house and will be spending the day with Dimitri."
Rapidly there was a shift in Devereaux's expression. His eyes widened ever so slightly, his muscles completely stiffened and he opened his mouth to speak without thought. "Father!" His voice was higher than usual.
As soon as the word left his mouth a fork was stabbed in-between his fingers. The fork didn't plunge into his fingers but merely stabbed the table in-between his fingers. Devereaux's chest fell, but a look of spite appeared on his face. He glanced behind him to see the mighty figure standing behind him.
The man was by far bigger than he was. He shaved his head bald clean. His face was pulled into a hard and stoic look, with the tattoo of a red eclipse on the left corner of his face. He wore a black suit and looked down at Devereaux with one eye black and the other eye reddish brown.
Devereaux glared at him for a split second before looking away and speaking again. "I don't need, Dimitri, I'm doing fine on my own, my temper has been better than-"
"Shut your fucking mouth before I order Dimitri to put his boot in it." Mr. Rosalind replied calmly.
Devereaux pursed his lips, but they twitched and the defiance in his eyes was blazing. After what felt like minutes he sighed and his expression reverted to the cold one. "Then I'll return to my room." He spoke in a clipped tone.
The lady nodded at the request. "Thank you, Mother." The mother was spoken with venom.
As he got up, Lay followed in his suite, they were leaving when he heard. "What time did you return from the party yesterday?"
Devereaux halted. "Around 10:30."
"Are you a child? Be affirmative when you speak."
"10:30, father."
Mr. Rosalind nodded. "Good, I received word that a father and daughter were mutilated last night. I believe you weren't involved."
His lips twitched again. He glanced back and with the plainest of expressions he answered. "I wasn't."
"Good. You may return to your room, and clean up that thing on your neck. It disgusts me." Mr. Rosalind meant the thin slice injury on Devereaux's neck, underneath his chin.
Devereaux nodded. With that Devereaux and Lay returned to his room. Just as Devereaux reached his room, he grabbed a black face cap with two rings hanging on the front, with a nose mask and a jacket.
"What are you doing man?" Lay whisper-yelled.
Devereaux pressed his hand on the wall of his room and eventually the wall pushed back, revealing a pathway. "Escaping punishment."
Lay groaned.
Devereaux was not the strongest fan of alcohol. Something about losing control even the slightest bit irked him, and he never really liked feeling irked but he did drink occasionally.
Devereaux sat in the 'WallDogs' frequent joint and sipped from his bear. The bar was actually called The Bonus Toe but everyone who frequented there knew it was basically owned by a Motorcycle Club (MC) called the WallDogs. Most of the customers there were WallDogs.
Devereaux had heard rumors of the WallDogs being some kind of occult. All their members were closed off, large in build and it was near impossible to join the MC.
Not that he cared anyways. The young man cared for almost nothing.
Lay got on his face. "You're so screwed Dev. You think your old man's pissed now, just wait until he figures out why you broke that idiot's finger."
Devereaux dropped his beer and glanced at Lay who was way too close to his face. "Do you plan to tell him?" He asked quietly.
Lay raised his hands. "Peace, Dev. I wouldn't do that, but like your Father is intense, he already knows what happened, wouldn't he find out what caused it?"
Devereaux scoffed. "Baltimore Rosalind raised me to be a fucking dictator not a some meathead hick." He glanced at the muscular man who was eavesdropping on their conversation. "No offense." He added.
"As I was saying, Mr. Rosalind has taught me well. Trust me. He won't find out why I broke Roland's finger."
Lay sighed, taking a sip from his beer. It was silent for a moment, and the other party seemed comfortable with it when Lay spoke again. "But why did you intervene? Honestly you had no right to interfere, you know the rules, that matter wasn't your concern."
The beer that was going into Devereaux's mouth paused mid way. "Why not? Rosalinds make rules not follow them," The young man stared down at his beer. "Besides I liked it."
Lay blinked. It was not everyday one heard Devereaux like or dislike anything. "Liked what?" He couldn't help but probe.
"The look of relief in her eyes. She looked excited, relieved, and scared when I stepped up. Most people either want me or they don't, she seems torn in-between, it's….. interesting to watch."
Lay frowned. He wanted to speak as the bar's door banged open. Both young men turned back to see what it was.
Someone came in. The young man was tall, and well built. He wore grey cargo pants, a plain red tee-shirt on and a jacket with 'WallDogs' inscribed on it. His short military short hair black hair and angry look on his beautiful face added to his dangerous aura. He bit his plump lips angrily and his caramel brown eyes carried a fuming fire within them.
"Jaxon, we weren't expecting-" the lady waitress was cut off by the young male climbing onto a table.
The young man spread his hands and spoke. "Okay people, whoever the hell isn't a WallDog should get the fuck out." He commanded like he owned the place.
Everyone else was dumbfounded for a moment but as he spoke again they quickly scampered. "Did I fucking stutter?"
Devereaux lifted his facemask on. "I hate this place, don't know why you always bring us here." Lay muttered, irritated.
As they were leaving a man with a WallDog jacket bumped into Devereaux. Devereaux paused for a moment to glance back at the person. Staring back at him was a blonde haired man with lean muscles. Devereaux immediately recognized the pretty boy at first glance; Roland Hartwell.
"Watch where you're going, dickhead." Roland sneered at Devereaux.
Lay, who was about to turn and give a reply, was stopped by Devereaux. "Let it go." He told Lay, stopping him from turning around.
Devereaux glanced down to see the finger. It seemed fine at glance, it almost made him curious as to whether it would hurt if he squeezed it. Devereaux banished the thought away and left The Bonus Toe with Lay.
Lay let out a harsh breath, then reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a cigar box and a lighter. He pulled out a stick, offering one to Devereaux who collected and lit one for himself.
Lay dragged the cigar from his lips after sucking in a breath and blowing the smoke out.
"Didn't he look familiar?" Devereaux asked, his eyebrows dipping.
Lay dragged his cigar again. "Of course, that was Roland fucking Hartwell." Lay was obviously irked by their encounter.
Devereaux played with the cigar stick in his hand. "No, not Roland, the boy on the table. His eyes…. They looked familiar."