"We're almost there, my sweet..." There was a soft clank as a crude pair of scissors was dropped into the metal tray by the table side. A needle was soon retrieved and was carefully threaded with thick black string. The ungainly figure hunched over the operating table cut the thread and prepared himself for the continuation of his long, hard work.
The room was poorly lit with a dark orange light by a single bulb, hanging from the ceiling. It flickered constantly, on the brink of death, casting strange shadows on the wall. The floor was covered in an assortment of intriguingly disgusting things: crinkled newspapers with blood stains, fistfuls of ripped out hair, chunks and pieces of flesh, and, of course, the rats and cockroaches that were feasting upon the articles scattered about. A stinging mewl was heard, but she was gently shushed. "I'm almost finished, dear," he said in a sickeningly loving tone to his half conscious patient. He sewed her flesh with the most cautious fingers he could manage, and finally finished, ripping off the needle after tying several knots into his subject. "There. All better, my sweet." He tossed his blood soaked, leather gloves onto the tray, and wiped the grimy sweat and stray blood splatters off of his face with his sleeve. He then proceeded, carefully, to lift the limp body off of the table and into his arms. She muttered something too softly to be understood.
"It's alright, my dear," he said, as he made his way to the already open door. "Now, we must have you rested. Tomorrow is the exhibition, and I must make sure you are in excellent condition for them." He entered into another poorly lit room and settled her into bed. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, my darling," his voice whispered as he knelt down to tenderly kiss her. And after securing her, he swiveled on his heel and left promptly. Continuing into the hallway across from him, he wriggled out of his coat. "Soon they will understand, soon they will see. And then the world will come to know a greater knowledge, and disbelief will have us all again." He tossed the jacket onto a chair as he passed by. In crude handwriting, like that of an illiterate child, the word Volpus was written on the back of the jacket in dried blood.
The soft clank of silverware on china was all that was heard in the room, but barely any food was being eaten. The almost deafening silence perspiring between them was enough to drive anyone out of their minds. Finally, Urcerick threw down his napkin and fork and pointedly looked across the table at his mother. Sosfane and his three other brothers looked up from his untouched food, regarding the eldest brother curiously.
"I can not understand you, Selene," he said, addressing her by her name curtly. Words had not been spoken at the dinner table for what seemed like an hour, and yet his mother continued to stare down at the empty plate in front of her as if she had never heard him. Silence ensued once more, four pairs of eyes on the begrudged older brother, and his gaze grew harsher upon her listless face.
"Honestly," he continued, throwing his hands up with a changed expression of surprise, "how can I even bare to call you "mother" now? Where will our lives go now? This will probably be the last meal that we ever have, you stupid woman! What are we supposed to do without Father▓s support?" ⌠We will get along fine, Ucerick," she said in barely a whisper. ⌠Grandmother is very wealthy and she plans on sustaining until I can support the family myself┘■ She trailed off, her dreary eyes fixated on the bare dish before her. ⌠So that▓s the plan, Selene? Leech onto your mother because you can not support your own damned children! I have yet one last year before I enlist, and this is your plan? To sit here and have your job done for you?!" The eldest brother was cut off as Sosfane stood up abruptly.
"You bastard!" the younger brother hissed, ⌠She▓s doing her best! The least you could do is contribute, like the rest of us, but you are too busy sitting on your slothful throne!■ Urcerick narrowed his eyes, pushing away his chair as he walked around the rectangular table, nearing his brother menacingly. ⌠What did you dare say to me?■ he warned, now looming over the younger sibling.
⌠You heard me,■ Sosfane continued, fearless of backing down to the enormous kin, ⌠I said that you do nothing. And I speak the truth. Treyden, SansfanИ, Lunestock, and I have been putting our efforts into keeping this family together, while you run wild, careless of anyone! There isn▓t a rare moment when I do not see you with a harlot and gin!■ Enraged, the elder brother grabbed the young redhead by his collar and wrenched him out of his chair, tossing him onto the bare, wooden floor. Urcerick approached him, glaring with animosity, as he undid his belt and pulled it out of its loops.
⌠Mother!■ called the fifteen-year old, but she stayed a silent statue, unblinking at the table. The eldest kin snapped his belt, folding it in half, and raised it above his head. Sosfane looked up to meet the piercing gaze of his felon.
⌠Maybe after this, you will learn to hold your tongue!■ he condemned, before the sound of the leather cutting the air was heard as he swiftly brought the strap down.
Sosfane woke up quickly as he felt himself flinch potently in his sleep. He blinked his eyes rapidly, coming back to his conscious self. He sat up, taking a moment to sigh and rub his eyes. He wasn▓t too surprised that he had a nightmare; the first couple of nights after a long travel always took a toll on him.
He laid back down exhaling deeply. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep with the image of his brother slashing him with a belt so vivid in his mind. Despite how early it was, possible around six or seven a.m., he dragged himself out of the large, eloquent bed, tossing the thick black sheets off of his half naked body. He took a good look around the room he was in, seeing that it would take a while for him to get used to the new surrounding. The two months would have readily passed by the time he finally adjusted. The innovative presence of expensive, elaborate furniture would take some getting used to, he had thought when he had first come into the house. He also hadn▓t traveled often to the urban area, so being in the newly industrializing city was something new to him.
Sosfane stretched, yawning, and made his way towards the bathroom, opening the door lazily. He lit the gas lamp above the mirror, turning the knob slowly to brighten the room, and then made his way towards the large, porcelain bathtub in the near center of the tiled room. The young man stripped himself slowly of his remaining pants and turned the brass knobs before slinking into the smooth bathtub. ⌠If only the bathtub were this good at home,■ he muttered to himself, luxuriating in the soothing warmth of the water. He closed his eyes, his mind wandering to a mental list of tasks that he would have to do later. The water relaxed him almost too easily, and he caught himself drifting off. Quickly, he blinked himself awake before submerging his head and washing his scalp and hair.
As the bathtub was draining, he wrapped a towel around his waist and made his way towards the sink. He picked up the shaving razor, flicking out the blade with his thumb, before carefully soaping up his jaw. Sosfane stared at his chin for a moment in the mirror before raising the blade up carefully and proceeding to shave. He washed the blade off when he was done, and laid it out to dry, before he wiped his face down. It was hard not to smirk at the reflection as he looked at his nicely trimmed mustache and goatee; he finally had a nice razor to work with for once.
Possibly having a rich grandmother isn▓t so bad, he thought to himself as he pulled out a very fine brush from a drawer under the sink. He turned his head to the side, brushing his long, tangled burgundy hair. He carefully got rid of the knots, making a note that he▓d have to buy a brush while he was out here to bring back home. Once finished, he produced a small white ribbon in which he pulled his hair back into a ponytail with. He left the bathroom, walking into the parlor where his sack of belongings was. He hadn▓t brought much, seeing that he would probably buy some more outfits while he was out in the city, and he picked up the small duffle bag, emptying the contents onto the cerulean loveseat that it had been resting on. He grabbed a pair of black vigilante pants, a cream collared shirt, a maroon double breasted vest, and a black puff tie.
Sosfane dressed quickly, slipping into his pants and tucking his shirt in before slinging his Y-back braces on, and started buttoning up his vest over his tie as he headed back into the bedroom for his shoes. He stopped briefly at the secretary, taking out a small piece of paper and speedily writing a list of tasks with a quill. Then he headed to the front door, throwing on a maroon, cotton frock coat, as well as his top hat, and heading outside.
The chilly air nipped at his face, and he brought his coat lapels tightly against him as he made his way down the streets into the half-busy town center. He preserved his anonymity as he walked in and out of stores, buying various things. The feeling of the closely packed stores with the various customers, dressed eloquently, bustling about in their business was such a foreign feeling to Sosfane. The country was so much different than this place.
Feeling alien in this place, Sosfane decided to make this as fast as possible. He took out the note he had made, glanced at it quickly, and stuffed it back into his pocket as he headed towards the magic shop. He entered, almost hesitantly, and was sure to not take his time. People in the cities were usually not friendly towards magic users, and even though he himself wasn▓t one, walking into a magic arts shop would surely give an impression of being one.
The rest of the tasks went by fairly easy, and the already cloudy sky soon became threatening to bring rain. The hours had slid by unnoticed, and only on his way home had Sosfane realized it was getting close to four in the afternoon. He opened the door to the enormous mansion, hastily walking over to the table to set down his giant armful of various items.
⌠Damn,■ he cursed silently, seeing that he had forgotten to stop by the post office. He took a deep breath, sorting the items out before he turned on his heel and head back out.
On his way back into the square, the soft patter of rain drops made Sosfane quicken his pace. He hustled into the small store on the corner, shaking himself off slightly as he walked up to the clerk.
⌠How may I help you, Sir?■ the young woman behind the wooden desk asked.
⌠Oh,■ Sosfane said awkwardly, ⌠I▓m here to receive mail for Madam Beranice. Has any come today?■ The small clerk got up and walked into the back room, and a moment later, returned with a small envelope in her hand.
⌠Here you go, Sir,■ she said to him, eyeing him. ⌠Thanks.■ Sosfane took it and tried not to look too much in a hurry as he walked out. He sighed as he stood under the overhang of the roof, seeing that the rain had greatly hardened while he was inside.
Sometimes he hated having everyone ogle over him. But yet, he could not think of a time that he had used it to his advantage. That day had yet to come, though, and as he took his steps out into the pouring rain he had the sudden realization of how lonely he was.
Sosfane lived in a small village in the east, alone, and never did have a lot of interactions with many people. He would have a friend over here and there, but the relationships were never too strong. Sosfane had had his fair share of girlfriends as well, but nothing ever had gotten too serious. Maybe it▓s just me, he thought to himself as these thoughts passed through his head. His clothes were completely soaking in a matter of minutes, and he quickly took to the left, down an alley, hoping that the shortcut would get him home faster. He walked through nonchalantly, having inner reflections, until something caught his attention. Though it was considerably dark, he could just barely make out a humanoid figure in the lumpy pile not to far from him in the narrow alleyway. He blinked warily as he approached it, his eyes locked on intently. Kneeling down, Sosfane was fast to realize that it was indeed a person, in a crumpled heap, unconscious, or possibly dead, on the cold, wet ground. Whoever they were, they certainly did not look well. There was a sack over their head, tight around the neck, and their coat, vest, and shirt were shredded, as if something had slashed them across the stomach and chest. Sosfane was sure there was more, but it was hard to make out much of any details in the dim atmosphere.
⌠Hey,■ he said cautiously, nudging the individual gently. He shifted a little when they didn▓t move, but he checked for a pulse, letting out his breath when he felt a faint one. He nearly jumped out of his wits when he heard a guttural snarl behind him.
Sosfane got up quickly, turning to see what had made the noise. A flash of lightning illuminated the sky, revealing some sort of anthropological wolf creature, its white fur glistening in the harsh downfall. Its eyes glimmered with an indescribable cruelty and horrific intent towards Sosfane.
It was not hard to catch that this beast was clearly the reason for which a man lay unconscious and wounded next to Sosfane. Yet, instead of turning and running, the young man braced himself, feeling it his duty to protect this hapless being besides him.
Feeling that it would be pointless to try and talk to this wolf brute, he slowly reached underneath his frock coat, drawing out a large cutlass that had been concealed in the inner pocket coat. The creature growled, baring its teeth viciously as he unsheathed it, holding it out at an arms length.
Roaring, the creature launched itself across the small distance between them, its mouth gaping and claws outstretched. Sosfane dodged himself out of the way, but was quick to whip around, and land a fierce jab into the monster▓s side. It shrieked, stumbling slightly, and quickly recovered, lashing out at Sosfane. He leapt back, nearly having his stomach slashed open, and then jumped back forward, slamming the dagger deep into the animal▓s gullet.
Its hot blood spewed in innumerable directions, as is choked and fell to the ground, dying. Sosfane pulled his weapon out, after almost being drug down with the beast, wiped it off, sheathed it, and concealed it once more.
Finally, he could thank his father for passing his warrior blood to him. He stared at the white beast at his feet. Neither a drop of sweat nor a twinge of fear had broken out on him while he was fighting that creature. The fight was quite uneventful, in fact, compared to what other things Sosfane had been through.
Shaking his head, he walked around to the other side of the creature, and looked down upon the limp person. If he were conscious he could▓ve told Sosfane where to deliver him, but the circumstances were not that easy. He knelt to one knee, carefully scooping the soggy, freezing cold person into his thick, built arms, before heading out of the alley, quickly and quietly. He prepared himself the whole trip home for some sort of attack, but it never came.
It was a bit difficult to open the door with limited hand movement, but he finally managed, and walked into the dark house, water dripping off of him onto the carpet. He laid the man on the kitchen tiles, taking a moment to walk into his room and throw off his soaking clothes and change into a dry pair of pants and a shirt.
On his way back to the kitchen he turned on all the lighting knobs, and the house gradually became illuminated. He grabbed a wooden box out of one of the cabinets and set it down next to the soggy figure on the floor before he crouched next to him.
Sosfane looked hesitantly at the wounded being in front of him and finally reached up, untying the knot that held the sack over his head. Slowly, he pulled it off and revealed a marvel that nearly caught his breath.
The man looked young, maybe around 22 to 25 years old, and long, silky, ebony hair fell about his shoulders in a thick, beautiful waves. His skin was a very unnatural hue of white, almost like snow, and it had the most magnetically smooth appearance to it. Upon his cheeks, whiskers sprouted from his flesh, and through his slightly agape mouth, Sosfane could barely make out sharp tips on his pearly teeth. But what had caught Sosfane▓s attention most of all was the pair of black, furry cat ears resting atop the young man▓s head. He had to reach out and feel one between his fingers to make sure that his eyes were not deceiving him. Sosfane had his fair share of unique beings, but this one was much different from the others. Its facial expression was so innocent and helpless that Sosfane found himself hoping that this creature, whenever it awoke, was not hostile.
He sat there, dumbfounded at this marvelous being before him, almost forgetting what he was doing. He snapped out of his trance, though, and began working on the buttons on his shredded attire to try and peel it off of him. While, taking the layers off of the unconscious man, he found that his hands were being covered in an oily, black substance. And too soon, upon finally removing all of his upper attire, he found that this strange substance was the being▓s blood.
He wiped his hands before looking at the mess before him. Sosfane picked up a crude roll of bandages, and began to slowly, and carefully, wrap the young man up. When the inky black had stopped seeping through the bandages, Sosfane walked hurriedly to the bathroom, grabbing some towels, and rushed back to wrap him up tightly.
Picking him up again, he shivered feeling how fervently chilly the smaller man was, and hurried him into the bedroom to fasten him quickly into the bed. Making sure that there were enough blankets, Sosfane then lit a fire in the fireplace opposite of the bed, and went to retrieve the wet clothes and hang them up. Before laying out his jacket, he carefully tugged out the damp letter from the breast pocket and tossed it onto the secretary to dry.
He sat down in a mahogany sofa chair, his mind spinning from the outstanding events. He rubbed his temples, exhausted and surprised that the day had actually turned out to be eventful. Will life in the city be this demanding? Sosfane thought tiredly, leaning back into the chair to take a breath. Fatigued, he stared idly at the young, magnificent creature in his bed, wondering all sorts of things about it. The sound of rain hitting the windows and the soothing crackling of the fireplace were lulling him to sleep. He leaned onto his elbow, unable to resist sleep.
Hours had passed until a small mewl stirred Sosfane from his sleep. He flickered his eyes open, slowly stretching and yawning before looking over to the pallid creature shifting as it woke in his bed. Sosfane got up and walked to the bedside leisurely, watching the young man warily.
The pale being opened its dreary eyes from behind its thick, black lashes, and looked around for a second, slowly sitting itself up. Upon catching sight of Sosfane, the young person gasped loudly, lurching backwards against the headboard. Sosfane jumped a little at the sudden movement, and nearly at the fact that the creature was staring at him, frightened, with intense albino eyes.