No
Higher Purpose
dis.claimed.
1.
He'd ensnared stray spirits a plenty in his time, but this one had walked in on her own. She'd ran her fingers over his wall as he "greeted" her (brushing his cockroach shell against her bare legs, rising to murmur in her ear, "child. Dear child. Hello.") her hands never once paused in their exploration; not of his walls and not of any borrowed face he ever used on her.
2.
Her eyes always seemed fogged- distracted and landed on everything but him. Her face faded in comparison to the flighty things--as stiff as it was dull and smooth as it had become from (surely) years of no expression. He wondered what sort of training she'd undergone before being sent to him. Her purpose had to be something more substantial than to sleep in the corners of his home--than to trace him and listen to him (his threats, his stories, even his seductions) and stare at the dark that wasn't him.
3.
It was maddening. He'd hear a sigh, a chuckle, a gasp and snap up to catch the emotion that must've accompanied it, to see only blank features and nervous eyes and nothing. Just nothing. As if it had never been. But it must've. Koh was nothing if not sane.
4.
"Koh." He glanced at her.
"Yes?"
"Koh. Your name."
He arched one thin eyebrow (they'd been thick a moment ago; he'd been male, too, a moment ago) and breathed out, "Good, child. You're not as simple as I first thought," then snickered at his own joke (he knew she would not).
"Mine is Hari."
"Hari, then?" A pause and her eyes focused on him while her hands, for once, fluttered and grasped her chest for sturdiness.
"Yes."
5.
"Koh." He didn't bother to look up. He knew what he'd see.
"Yes?"
"Have I seen all your faces?" He shifted.
"No."
"Oh." She mirrored his slight movement.
"You've never seen me."
"Ah."
6.
"Koh."
"Yes?"
"Would you show me your face? I need to understand." Something, just something like a sigh crept into her voice and he found himself looking at the only face that would possibly never be his. It felt like it'd been years since he last had. Maybe it had been.
"Why would I want to do that?" He drew near.
She only awaited his consent. He instinctively looked at her hands to read the patience that lined them in their folded position. Then he hesitated, for perhaps the first time, and shifted and looked at her hands, as always, to see her reaction. They… were covering her face. He felt an instinct ripple through him. Still, he was still.
"Hari."
"Yes?"
"How are you planning to repay me?" Silence.
She lowered her hands.
"Ah."
7.
It was the first time he'd ever taken a face that gave itself away with a face shining with nothing like hate.