Author: I am so sorry this is late…and that I believe this chapter is not that great. For that I apologize, but I need to get back into the swing of things because I have been gone due to family health problems, AKA cancer. :( Again I am sorry.
A Foreboding Warning
"Get up, you lazy boy. It's almost passed midday…"
Morning quickly followed a gloomy night: a dawn swallowed by the storm, a storm beyond the imprisoning confines of the cellar's walls. Its thunderous calls replaced the Bog's usual drones and moans, as if to loudly remind Rayman of the 'slave' duties that beckoned him…as if the mansion itself spoke to him in its own mysterious, demanding way. Rayman only sneered into his pillows as those voices only grew more impatient, louder, irrigated within his head at the Hunter's eyes now locked upon his form. Razoff's presence felt so undeniably close—a tower loaming over his bed…and he would not deny that it caused a tendril of nervousness to penetrate his heart.
But the Guardian remained silent, enough so to be a refusal to the Hunter's request.
Razoff gave a snort as he watched, however he held his patience firm with a glare. His voice sounded low, deadly, tainted with danger, "Are you disobeying an order, boy?"
"Five more minutes, you git..." Rayman mumbled back sleepily.
Onyx eyes flashed in triumph as the boy did only what he had expected him to. So predicable, he thought whilst lightly shaking his head, seeming almost amused by how easy it was to crawl under the boy's skin. Surely the youth could have some self restraint? Well, that seemed entirely unlikely by this point. Perhaps teaching him some self-control would be useful—for both of us. Considering I have to…no, no this is not the moment to be thinking about such things. I still have time left before it happens…just not much.
"Pray tell, where have I heard that before?" The Hunter's voice held the inklings of a smirk despite how one did not appear.
If only, if only someone just glanced at Razoff's prideful face—a mere glance, even for just a moment—then the tortured glaze to his eyes would not have remained unseen. His thoughts were obviously ones of a negative nature…a strange, sad nature that plagued him. Yet, what did it all truly mean? Perhaps no one would ever know, and he was determined to keep it that way.
"The five minutes or being called a git? I'm pretty sure the latter is well at home."
Razoff's hand shot down and slapped Rayman plain across the face at that, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to leave a humiliating sting. It all happened so fast that none could have registered it. The glare Rayman shot over his shoulder in response from where he lay only made the man chuckle.
However, instead of heeding his 'Master's' slight punishment, Rayman just defiantly turned his gaze away and closed his eyes once more. Such an action—such imprudence— silently spoke of utter disobedience; he had left the Hunter no other choice. A calm sigh escaped the Hunter as he then motioned with an elegant flick of his wrist for Vincent to come forth, seeming to have something particular in mind. He had planned something: something dark, something dreadful. And if this was not so for Rayman…then it was for his blue and black counterpart.
Vincent swallowed in fear, but did not protest or hesitate. Slowly, he emerged from where he nervously hid deep with in the shadows, his approaching steps stiff, tense and anxious as he drew near. When he finally stood before the two just as he had been ordered to by his sole Master, fearful shock drained his face of colour. What he had been previously asked to do—what he had been ordered to do—made a droplet of sweat trickle down his forehead. Something significant trembles from nerves in his palms: the object he must use. His heart visibly boomed against his ribs, those dark eyes becoming empty.
Rayman still held his eyes shut to the world, those eyes closed against what was about to transpire. And Vincent, mentally swelled by guilt, fell deadly numb in shame.
His friend would never see it coming.
"I am feeling considerably generous, so I give you one more chance. Get up, boy," Razoff sighed, unfalteringly patient in his stance.
Despite everything and the dangers, Rayman remained indifferent to Razoff's words. They sounded faint to his ears as if underwater, dulled by the haze of dreams that drifted in and out of his sleepy head. Not a muscle twitched in response beneath the bedcovers—something he would regret.
R-Rayman, why are you not moving?! Move. Please, please do not do this to me! Please move! The watching slave gulped in horror at Rayman's stillness, wishing to Polokus that Rayman could read his screaming thoughts. He gripped the object tighter in his timid fingers, did the stubborn fool not realize the danger? The evil smirk on Razoff's face? Or how Razoff rolled those strict eyes of his, how he signalled to Vincent with that ever so slight tilt of his head?
As if a puppet under his Master's control, the object was lifted with such fluidity that Vincent seemed trapped in some sort of trance…but he hesitated.
I…I can not do it…
For the briefest of moments Vincent internally froze, the ice of fear freezing him from the core of his heart. Should he do this—could he do this? Desperation caught his breath as he hastily looked up to Razoff with eyes filed with pleas. However, the Hunter only raised an eyebrow in answer, his expression unfazed. Only then did Vincent's heart drop as he understood his place. Quivering, he threw his hands back to get momentum, nervous from the eyes that stared merciless holes into his back—watching him.
The object harshly swished in warning.
Then all of sudden it happened. A harsh splash filled the air. Water as cold as ice snapped sapphire eyes open—alarmed. Rayman suddenly yelped in shock and jolted as if a snake had bitten him when icy liquid sank its fangs into his face. Fate seemed against him as he gasped in horror at realizing too late that his foot had gotten caught in his bed sheets, leaving him no time to save himself. The massive thud he made as he plummeted to the ground was nothing short of cringe worthy.
Vincent blushed and an unspoken 'apologies' tenderly whispered through his eyes.
Razoff chuckled at it all before he bent down low to the soaked creature, his hands still clasped behind his back and a cunning smirk locked in place. An eyebrow rose at how the boy's situation was nothing short of undignified, to say the least. Amusement he could not hide sparkled there in his eyes. Every action of the Hunter sent an irritated flash through Rayman's conscience and Razoff knew it all too well.
A knowing, tiny smile pulled at the corner of Razoff's lips. "Awake now, are we?"
As fast as lightning, another slap struck Rayman across the face—hard. The palm connected harshly with that tender flesh, forcing Rayman's head to the side with an audible, pained hiss. It made Vincent cringe among the shadows that he had secretly crept into, frightened.
"You better learn to douse those stubborn fires, Slave. Or I might just have to punish you properly if you don't," Razoff threatened, its silkiness only darkening his words further.
Ever, ever so agonisingly slowly, despite his weak position tangled in his sheets upon the floor, the Guardian switched hardened pupils straight back to the Hunter that he loathed.
All Rayman replied with was a smirk of cockiness, "Oh trust me, I don't doubt that…Hunter."
Tension, the tension between the two was unbearable. Thunder rumbled above the mansion in anger. Lightning unseen tore the storm —akin to the slave and Hunter's rivalry. Icy coldness consumed all.
Vincent shivered as the atmosphere turned chillingly cold, not even the nearby presence of his friend able to halt the frosty knife piercing his heart. He had betrayed him, he had embarrassed him, he had not helped him…and it hurt more than he realised it would. He shakily vanished into the bathroom like a slinking shadow and shut the door behind him, wishing to escape it all. However, Razoff still caught Vincent's movement in the corner of his eye and his expression merely relaxed—seeming against ordering Vincent back. To Rayman's confusion, it seemed the Hunter understood that Vincent felt unsettled by the tension between them…and had let him go.
But why? Razoff could not possibly care…could he?
Yet as swiftly as it changed, Rayman froze in uncertainty when Razoff's attention shifted once again. It terrifyingly reminded Rayman of a gun: locked on one target, and then ferociously darting to the next. And I'm the final target! He realized in horror. Vincent had gone, meaning Razoff could do anything without fear of disturbing his more sensitive slave. Danger, danger, danger, screamed his conscience. All he thought of was escape, tried to pry himself free of the sheets…
But it was too late.
As if sensing his prey's thoughts, Razoff snorted in distaste before sharply placing his boot down on his victim's back, extracting a hiss of pain from the boy. The Hunter's face hardened and stern onyxes fixed down on his prey who, at this very moment, cursed under his breath where he lay still tangled on the ground—vulnerable. All Razoff had to do was stomp down and Rayman knew his back would shatter. Peach eyelids screwed shut and a strangled cry slipped through gritted teeth when Razoff ever, ever so slightly, applied pressure. It had not been much pressure, but it remained enough to cause discomfort. Under his boot, the Hunter felt his prey stiffen.
The Hunter scowled down to him with all traces of playfulness gone. "Why you are so exhausted I'll never know. Escape is futile you know, and I certainly wouldn't waste anymore sleep than you already have trying to if I were in your shoes. Of course, perhaps it is something else? Indeed, Rosyetta could be partly to blame, perhaps? With your late night visit to her last night? Oh no, don't give me that coy look, boy. Yes, I knew about it—you knew I knew. But wait, maybe I'm wrong…perhaps it is just the fact that a little labour once in your lifetime is too much for you?"
Too much for me?! Polokus, what complete and utter Razor rot! What does Razoff know about labour? Does he have to protect a planet single handed? Does he protect and save his people…?
"But I would be wary, Slave…" A sudden sigh of disbelief escaped Razoff, a scoff of slipping patience. He bent down low. Rayman cried out as the movement tripled the weight on his back, making him struggle. Razoff watched the boy's expression contort in pain, before whispering dangerously into his ear, "Rosyetta, my Jewel…is like a Siren. Her singing-looks may grab your attention now, but she will trap you just as well as I did." Razoff seemed to slowly gain control over himself as he shook his head, carefully taking the pressure off of his foot so that the boy's pain was eased. The soft tone of his next words rang with apology in the dreadful silence, as if just realizing what he had done, "…You should be thankful that I'm warning you."
Rayman growled in fury and managed to unravel the drenched bed sheet from his frame, forcing Razoff's offending boot away. Upmost fury and disbelief drowned his features as he shot swiftly to his feet with fists trembling by his sides.
"What do ya know? You're a monster! You're just afraid, afraid that Rosyetta might actually have feelings, unlike you!" Rayman snapped, enraged.
Razoff raised a delicate eyebrow, but after a few thoughtful moments he merely gave another cunning chuckle. For he found Rayman nowhere near intimidating.
"Pray tell, really? I think I know more about my own cousin than you do, Slave," Razoff sniggered in disbelief. "And honestly boy, if I was 'afraid' as you so idiotically put it, then that would not make me entirely unfeeling, would it?"
The chuckles of his foe made Rayman's hair droop somewhat in acknowledgement and his expression resembled a sneer as he faltered. He physically felt it when the fires deep within him sizzled down to mere embers in defeat, knowing with a grimace that the blackness underlining his eyes was also a sign of more than one restless night. Defeat…that word felt like poison in his head.
Suddenly, Razoff cleared his throat before exclaiming, "Enough of this folly, you have a special job to do today."
The sudden tenseness in his captive did not go unnoticed; Razoff broke out into full blown laughter.
"Not what you think. It won't kill you...unfortunately," Razoff teased. His tone held no ill-will, nor intentions to harm. It only possessed a familiar amusement, a huge comparison to the deadly male that had pinned his prey under his boot only minutes earlier.
Rayman breathed deeply through gritted teeth before just scowling back, untrusting.
I don't understand you. One minute you're a skilled Hunter with me playing into your games…the next you're the normal, teasing man that I'm getting more and more familiar with. You're a monster, yet you're not. You're evil…but your also not. There is a side to you that I fail to grasp. Who are you, really?
Rayman blinked in confusion when Razoff delving into his coat pocket effectively broke off his train of thought. Those tapered fingers rummaged around for a few moments as the Hunter's eyes filled with concentration, feeling around for something in particular. It did not take long for him to carefully pull out the item for his slave to observe.
A golden eyebrow rose in a suspicion. "A…key?"
While Rayman did refuse to take that fateful key, he could not deny that his curiosity had been touched. The key looked particularly small in Razoff's fingers, its mint-coloured surface shining unlike any other key Rayman had seen thus far. The little handle, an ordinary hollow ring at first glance, caused the Guardian to narrow his eyes in curiosity: for there he spotted an engraving etched into its surface. Only when he squinted did he truly realize what the lines created: a pale maple leaf carved into the minty green. His curiosity could be seen clearly in his stare, one immediately caught by the Hunter's keen eye. Regardless, Razoff just sighed at Rayman's blatant hesitance to accept the key he held. In all honesty, he had expected nothing less.
"Vincent will direct you through your task and Rosyetta is awaiting your presence…much to my disagreement, of course. As you know, my energetic cousin is stubborn, not unlike you, and she was adamant about being there. Just take the key already, it's not like the key is booby trapped—it's in my hand."
Rayman retaliated, "That's the fricken point! You're a walking trap!"
The Hunter grabbed Rayman's hand abruptly, making the blonde, on pure instinct, growl in warning. However, Razoff snorted indifferently and turned the gloved hand over, gently placing the key in the palm without room for argument—the action not hurtful in any way. In fact, Rayman stared at the item with glazed-over eyes at judging the action to be…exceptionally gentle.
Was Razoff guilty about that little slipup with his patience earlier? No, no he could not be, could he? That was impossible.
Without another word, the Hunter tipped his hat back slightly with a finger in farewell before striding towards the exit, feeling Rayman watching his every move. He nearly cackled aloud at sensing the boy to be like a taunt spring: one that would release at the slightest thing amiss. The boy was blatantly edgy and he could feel it.
When Razoff gracefully raised his hand to the doorknob and grasped it, he twisted it with an echoing squeak. However, he opened the cellar door merely a crack…then paused.
As Razoff turned his head the tiniest fraction to meet sapphire eyes, the shivers his gaze caused made the boy grimace. Their eyes had only connected for barely a second, a single second, before Razoff opened the door and soundlessly slip away from the cellar.
One final taunt called over the Hunter's shoulder in his wake, "Don't be too stupid, Slave."
Rayman truly felt uncertain of what to think. An interested silence had swallowed the cellar at the Hunter's disappearance as the door finally quietly closed with a click. The sound echoed eerily off stone walls until gradually fading away into nothingness, once again leaving the atmosphere cold, heavy. It chillingly wracked shivers down his spine, turned blue eyes a deep indigo as it pushed him into his memories.
"You should be thankful that I'm warning you."
Rayman's lips upturned into a smirk and he gripped the key tighter—the key that would supposedly lead him to Rosyetta.
"Don't be too full of yourself, Hunter. Rosyetta seems far less manipulative than ya make her out to be. As Guardian…I can sense these things."
Unexpectedly, the noise of a door opening rang at his words. Rayman raised an eyebrow as he turned around to discover his loyal Vincent, who had finally appeared from where he had hidden in their bathroom. He timidly male froze midway and blushed at how Rayman raised a playful eyebrow higher, cocky smirk growing.
"W-What?" Vincent stammered, idly fiddling with his scarf. "Apologies for what I did earlier, but I had no choice. He…he has this hold over me that I can not explain."
Rayman's only answer was to give the other a little smile, but the smile seemed strangely…troubled. Something just felt undeniably wrong, like something bad was going to happen. No matter how hard he tried Rayman could not shake away the feeling as Vincent gently took the key from his grasp.