A/N: Inspiration to write a little hit, so who am I to deny myself the opportunity? I didn't know what I wanted to write though, and this ended up happening so I think it fitting as the first entry to the Discarded Assembly.
It is unlikely I'll continue this particular entry, though feel free to speculate about it and ask questions or post your speculation in the reviews. I'm not looking for any praise but I'm certainly interested to see what you guys make of this.
It's also much shorter than I'm jused to writing, but have fun nonetheless~
Behind closed walls, sibilant hisses echo across the room, two figures sitting in the centre of it. Or rather a man and a serpent, calmly conversing in the middle of the night.
"You'll do it, then?" One asked calmly, regarding the other both with trepidation and curiosity. They hadn't attempted this before and while it would certainly be interesting, so much could go wrong...
"Of course." The other replied, a small smile playing at his lips. "You know me well Sillandros, I'm not one to turn down a challenge."
"No, indeed not. And yet it always puts you in the most terrible situations." He shook his head, a low hiss escaping him as he regarded the young man in front of him, across from him on the dark plush chair.
"But that's what makes it so much fun..." The first replied again, a pout making it's way onto his face, only barely visible in the dim light of the single candle resting on a short coffee table between them.
"I'll come with you, of course."
A sigh, then. "Naturally. Nothing I could say would dissuade you anyway, old friend."
Laughter hissed across the room, pleased with a hint of smugness. "Of course, you're far too much of a hazard to be left alone; and as my entertainment I expect you to remain alive."
It was his turn to laugh now. "And here I was under the impression you cared... You wound me Sillandros."
"Liar."
The next evening torches line the walls of the closed room, and diagrams written in fresh blood line the floor and the walls, a few runes even scatter across the ceiling, everything meticulously placed and held into position by magic. Even the slightest mistake or displacement and everything would go horribly wrong.
Perhaps that was why he was feeling so thrilled, so alive right now in this world that had nothing left to offer him. He had Sillandros, but that had been more luck than anything else, and considering the bipolar nature in which the Lady favours him, it does not surprise him. No longer does it surprise Sillandros either who used to call him strange and is now draped weightily over his shoulders, readying himself for the ritual.
"After this there is no going back." He hissed softly, as if to affirm both the other's decision as well as materialise in some way the gravity of what they were about to do.
The other shifted and allowed his robe to fall off of him outside of the runic diagrams and symbols, finishing the design by drawing connecting runes onto his own flesh, carved ever so carefully but with a practiced hand.
"Good."