(Because I see maren as very magical creatures and Reala being able to manipulate magic very poorly, he gets one extraneous ability: He can disrupt the magic and energy of other creatures. It was a complicated series of events, however, that resulted in Reala acquiring omniscience. I will not bother explaining the identities of everyone listed at first; just know that all but Shirona are maren. Dot is a half maren, daughter of Jackle and Shirona, who has a collection of marionettes in the likenesses of every maren. She refers to them by their color. The dolls Reala has hidden away are essentially voodoo dolls.
Dot: celestriakle. deviantart .com/art/Dot-269777327
Read and review, please.)
Kicking up his legs onto the opposite armrest, Reala lounged back on his couch, folding his hands behind his head. With his belly full and to-do list empty, he could relax at last, and as his eyes slipped closed, he allowed the constant flow of information in his head to enter the forefront of his thoughts. His focus meandered through Nightmare, drifting from maren to maren; he saw it all: All of the parents caring for the newest generation of children, Alexiel playing with the stars, Linnea visiting her sister, Rosiel reaching past Sophia's toughened skin and making her blush, Azrael eating dinner, Mipsie loving on her minthers, Aeries still out on a mission, Ruu snoring uselessly, Layla cleaning up, Lana watching over her precious humans, Jackle and Shirona laughing at some shitty movie, and... Dot.
His expression tightened a moment; she had become an object of concern for him as of late. Recently, she had been seeking knowledge from Nightmare's libraries, information on dolls and life. His thoughts flickered briefly to his and NiGHTS's dolls, both of which were safely stored away where not a single speck of dust could disturb them. Although cute in their origins, the bonds they developed with their likenesses he did not want to see repeated. Unfortunately, the page of the book that laid open beside Dot as she sorted out her puppets described how to do just that. "Better stop this before it starts," he thought. Opening his eyes and kicking up onto his feet, he disappeared.
Reappearing outside Dot's door, Reala did not knock; he did not announce his presence: He threw open the door. Dot looked up with a squeak, the surprised expression on her face that of a child. "...Red?" she squeaked. Before this moment, he had never so much as acknowledged her presence, much less come to visit.
"My name is Reala," he retorted, entering the room and scooping up the book. "What are you doing with this?"
"I..." A smile, slightly eager, slightly scared, spread across her face as she looked down briefly at her puppets and touched them. "I wanted to make them more real. They..." Her face dropped a moment. "They don't make very good company right now."
"This isn't the way to do it," he answered, snapping the book shut. "Although..." He glanced at the book a few times. "You've read this a few times. You're excited about it. I'm sure you have some of it committed to memory. Removing this," he shook the book. "Might not change anything. You might not need it anymore." He warped the book away, into his home. "It might be best if I get rid of the precious objects involved." He grinned as her expression shifted to one of horror. She grabbed for her marionettes, but he was faster: In the time it took her to grasp four, he clutched them all, by strings or by bodies, and he tore the remaining ones from her grip.
She reached for them, for him, and cried, "No! Please, don't! I'll be good! I won't do it! I promise!" He just laughed, floating back just out of reach.
"I don't think I can trust you! You could do something infinitely worse. No, this is for the best." Grinning, he sped into her kitchen, tossed the wooden marionettes on the stove top, turned every burner to high, then spun round right quick to meet her before she could touch the stove. The air shivered upon their impact, and she reached, her fingers tantalizingly close.
"I won't! I promise! Please, Red, you can't do this!" Her shouts grew slightly coarse as she vainly reached past him, but he just laughed, backhanding her across the face hard enough to send her stumbling into the counter. She remained unphased: With a squeak of horror as the first of the puppets really began to catch flame, she rushed forward again, only to be intercepted by Reala's boot and thrown down to the ground. He landed atop her, kneeling and pinning her like a bug under a needle.
"Listen well, filthy halfbreed! My name's not Red; it's Reala. R-E-A-L-A. Not Red. Second of all, I can do this. Look," He glanced back at the stove before grinning back down at her. "I'm doing it right now. I can do anything I damn well please, and you can't do a damn thing to stop me. I'm sure you've noticed: Not even those precious plotholes your family so adores are any help to you now. Oh, and you can't do anything because I don't want you to."
The young halfmaren looked about ready to burst into tears, much to the General's pleasure. Suddenly, she shouted, struggling against him, "I hate you! You're a monster! Cruel! I hate you! Let me GO! Please!" She broke down beneath him, sobbing suddenly, and again, he laughed.
"Good, now that we've got that settled, let's watch the show, shall we?" Standing, he pulled her to her feet and, holding her arms to her sides, held her head in place so, try as she might, she would be unable to look away from the blaze.
The puppets burned, and she broke in his grasp. Her struggles became sporadic and halfhearted; her legs went limp beneath her, and she remained standing only through Reala's hold. Her tears made his rings slick on his fingers. The house filled with smoke; the fire alarm screamed incessantly; and they both—she more than he—coughed on the fumes, but he remained standing firmly there until every marionette was reduced to a pile of ash.
Half the kitchen had caught fire when he at last released her, and the blackened air ceased to shiver. Dot collapsed onto her knees and buried her face in her hands, sobbing. She couldn't even leave the room. Coughing, Reala laughed one more time before returning home. Down the street, a fire truck's siren shrieked.