Day 3: Crossover
Everything was silent, save for the raindrops dripping from the ceiling into a tin bucket already half full of water. The room was sparsely furnished; a narrow cot pushed against one wall, a rickety table near the bed, piled high with books. A single candle guttered on the windowsill every time a draft washed by, and a small fire seemed to toss more shadows on the walls than light.
A man sat on the cot, nose-deep in a thick, leather-bound tome. He took a deep breath then began to read aloud, his voice- deep and smooth like honey- cutting effortlessly through the damp air.
"The general quickly discovered that the young man proved to be the army's most valuable asset. Impressionable and single-minded, he could easily be molded into whatever kind of person his superiors needed him to be. He trained his body, but never his mind, making him no more than a powerful machine, an instrument incapable of forming his own opinions or questioning truth. He was, in every way, the perfect soldier."
Every letter seemed to roll off his tongue with something extra, something more than just emotion. Power. His words held power, hanging in the air far longer than they should, weaving a picture so vivid, it was almost as if the man in the story were standing before him.
And then suddenly, he was.
A tall young man stood in the middle of the room, blinking rapidly in confusion. "What the…Where the hell am I?!" He spun around, his impeccably shined boots squeaking slightly on the worn floorboards.
The man on the bed had already set down his book and tied on a hard cloth mask. He did not seem surprised that a man had appeared in his room without warning; in fact, he seemed very pleased. Standing, he stepped towards the young soldier, rolling back his shoulders and straightening to full height.
"My name is Amon," he said, coming to a halt in front of the other man. "General Shing has reassigned you to work for me now. He believes your talents will be put to better use here. Do you have any objections?"
The soldier furrowed his brow for a moment, his lips parted as though he were thinking of challenging the statement. He seemed to think better of it, and, snapping his heels together with an impressive clack, he stood at attention. "Sir, yes, sir!"
Amon smirked beneath his mask. The perfect soldier.
A/N: Woo Inkheart crossover~ I was just thinking of how Amon was such a great public speaker, and how he sort of has a "silver tongue," and well, if you know Inkheart, you'll get it. If you don't, a character who can read people out of books is named Silvertongue.
