"You can't refuse to move."
Xelloss crossed his arms in a defiant huddle. "I don't see any reason why not." His eyes carefully traced the crackled glaze along the wall opposite Dynast. For several days he hadn't deigned to look at the Supreme King. "I don't see a clock anywhere."
Dynast walked at an idle pace around Xelloss, watching the board with every step. He drifted to his own side of the board and surveyed the pieces from the back, like a general appraising his soldiers as they battled. He stood there very quietly, his mouth drawn down as if he'd just swallowed something bitter.
Xelloss' skin crawled as Dynast's shadow draped over him with an uncomfortable and clammy forwardness. "Watching your troops from behind, letting them worry about fighting the enemy?" A deep ache welled up between his shoulders. "I-ah!" The knife's influence was fickle, in an instant changing from the dull pulse of heartless ice to the burning chill of winter winds. Xelloss balled his hands into fists as he tried to dwell on the sensation of the seams on his gloves pressing into his skin. "I w-wonder how long ago it was that you actually fought a battle by yourself."
Dynast's displeased expression shifted into a knowing smile. "You're only saying that because I'm winning."
"Oh?" Xelloss kept his voice calm and even, unchanged by the knife's blistering ravages.
"Yes, my servant. You're in denial of your position. You want to convince yourself that I don't, for all intents and purposes, own you now."
Xelloss broke into a wide grin. "If you own me, then why haven't I moved in two days?"
The smile slid off of Dynast's face. He lunged across the table and grabbed Xelloss by the neck. His grip secure, he yanked the priest out of his chair and dragged him across the table. As Dynast pulled the mazoku towards him, Xelloss' shirt snagged the chessboard, knocking the wooden battlefield onto the floor.
Dynast held Xelloss up in front of him, the priest finally looking him in the eye as his feet dangled a foot over the ground. "Don't think for a moment that your lax nature is due to any neglect of mine." He flung Xelloss onto the table. As the knife met the surface and plunged fully into his back, Xelloss lost all physical control of his body. He watched Dynast swoop into his field of vision again. The Supreme King bent over him, his hands planted on the table, Xelloss between them.
"Let's see...what's your move now, Xelloss?" Dynast raked his knuckles across the mazoku's cheek. Smiling, he watched a red collar of fresh bruises bloom across Xelloss' neck. He nudged the priest's head so that he could face him again. Xelloss' eyes were frozen in place, unblinking. "You can't tease me now, Xelloss. No more witty little snipes. No symbolic defiance. Hell, I think you're actually bearable like this." Dynast rested his arm on Xelloss' chest, propping himself up. Xelloss felt the guard of the knife press hard into his bruised flesh. "It's almost worth it to just leave you here until you're frozen enough to be of use to me."
In the back of his mind, Xelloss could feel the knife holding him down. He strained against it, struggling for freedom. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break its grip.
Dynast drummed his fingers on Xelloss' chest, humming an old folk tune. He leaned there for a very long time, comfortably smug. He finally slid his arm away with a sigh. "Oh well, Xelloss. It is after all your turn." He nonchalantly nudged Xelloss to the side, smirking as the priest hit the floor with a loud smack.
As pain spiraled around him, Xelloss felt his muscles finally strain to obey him. Nevertheless, he lay on the floor and waited for the assault on his nerves to end. As he slowly brought his hands to rub the marks on his neck, Xelloss saw Dynast standing before him.
The Supreme King nudged a fallen bishop with his foot. "Clean up your mess and set the board up as it was. I'll expect you to make your move when I get back." He walked away, whistling smugly.
* * *
Firia stepped before a round door woven from opaque stained glass. "I've never been here before."
Lafitte nodded. "I know you haven't been here. Xelloss wouldn't bring a person he trusts into that room. It's his chamber for visiting with fellow incarnt that he's wary of." He smirked. "That's a whole lotta incarnt, let me tell you. The guests can't sense the rest of Xelloss' abode from there. It's very private, very secure..." Lafitte swallowed and licked his lips, "...and often dangerous."
Feeling her eyes drawn to the shadows trapped in the ripples of glass, Firia said, "Why is he in there?"
Lafitte brought his hand to his chin. "What Xelloss does in his privacy is none of my business..."
Firia gritted her teeth. After your little quips about Xelloss and I's relationship, I doubt the validity of that statement.
"...but he did pop in to tell me that he was in an important conference and was not to be disturbed."
Firia looked up. "He did? When?"
"Um." Lafitte scratched his head. "Not exactly recently, but not so long that I'd get to worrying. He's been gone for much longer, and with no harm to him."
"Yes, but..." Firia glanced again to the door. Its twisted shadows seemed to look back at her with eyes of pitch. "Has he ever stayed inside of this room for that long?"
"Well, no...hey!"
Firia clutched the door's handle and wrenched it open before Lafitte could stop her.
* * *
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Xelloss smiled up at his visitor. "I cleaned." Above the priest, the chessboard lay on the table, its pieces stationed on and around it in the shape of a happy face. "Darn my shoddy memory. I forgot where all the soldiers went. Is that okay?"
Dynast wasn't as happy as Xelloss was with the arrangement, and let the priest know through the poetry of brutality. Xelloss didn't care. For him, it was all about the little victories.
Xelloss crossed his arms in a defiant huddle. "I don't see any reason why not." His eyes carefully traced the crackled glaze along the wall opposite Dynast. For several days he hadn't deigned to look at the Supreme King. "I don't see a clock anywhere."
Dynast walked at an idle pace around Xelloss, watching the board with every step. He drifted to his own side of the board and surveyed the pieces from the back, like a general appraising his soldiers as they battled. He stood there very quietly, his mouth drawn down as if he'd just swallowed something bitter.
Xelloss' skin crawled as Dynast's shadow draped over him with an uncomfortable and clammy forwardness. "Watching your troops from behind, letting them worry about fighting the enemy?" A deep ache welled up between his shoulders. "I-ah!" The knife's influence was fickle, in an instant changing from the dull pulse of heartless ice to the burning chill of winter winds. Xelloss balled his hands into fists as he tried to dwell on the sensation of the seams on his gloves pressing into his skin. "I w-wonder how long ago it was that you actually fought a battle by yourself."
Dynast's displeased expression shifted into a knowing smile. "You're only saying that because I'm winning."
"Oh?" Xelloss kept his voice calm and even, unchanged by the knife's blistering ravages.
"Yes, my servant. You're in denial of your position. You want to convince yourself that I don't, for all intents and purposes, own you now."
Xelloss broke into a wide grin. "If you own me, then why haven't I moved in two days?"
The smile slid off of Dynast's face. He lunged across the table and grabbed Xelloss by the neck. His grip secure, he yanked the priest out of his chair and dragged him across the table. As Dynast pulled the mazoku towards him, Xelloss' shirt snagged the chessboard, knocking the wooden battlefield onto the floor.
Dynast held Xelloss up in front of him, the priest finally looking him in the eye as his feet dangled a foot over the ground. "Don't think for a moment that your lax nature is due to any neglect of mine." He flung Xelloss onto the table. As the knife met the surface and plunged fully into his back, Xelloss lost all physical control of his body. He watched Dynast swoop into his field of vision again. The Supreme King bent over him, his hands planted on the table, Xelloss between them.
"Let's see...what's your move now, Xelloss?" Dynast raked his knuckles across the mazoku's cheek. Smiling, he watched a red collar of fresh bruises bloom across Xelloss' neck. He nudged the priest's head so that he could face him again. Xelloss' eyes were frozen in place, unblinking. "You can't tease me now, Xelloss. No more witty little snipes. No symbolic defiance. Hell, I think you're actually bearable like this." Dynast rested his arm on Xelloss' chest, propping himself up. Xelloss felt the guard of the knife press hard into his bruised flesh. "It's almost worth it to just leave you here until you're frozen enough to be of use to me."
In the back of his mind, Xelloss could feel the knife holding him down. He strained against it, struggling for freedom. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break its grip.
Dynast drummed his fingers on Xelloss' chest, humming an old folk tune. He leaned there for a very long time, comfortably smug. He finally slid his arm away with a sigh. "Oh well, Xelloss. It is after all your turn." He nonchalantly nudged Xelloss to the side, smirking as the priest hit the floor with a loud smack.
As pain spiraled around him, Xelloss felt his muscles finally strain to obey him. Nevertheless, he lay on the floor and waited for the assault on his nerves to end. As he slowly brought his hands to rub the marks on his neck, Xelloss saw Dynast standing before him.
The Supreme King nudged a fallen bishop with his foot. "Clean up your mess and set the board up as it was. I'll expect you to make your move when I get back." He walked away, whistling smugly.
* * *
Firia stepped before a round door woven from opaque stained glass. "I've never been here before."
Lafitte nodded. "I know you haven't been here. Xelloss wouldn't bring a person he trusts into that room. It's his chamber for visiting with fellow incarnt that he's wary of." He smirked. "That's a whole lotta incarnt, let me tell you. The guests can't sense the rest of Xelloss' abode from there. It's very private, very secure..." Lafitte swallowed and licked his lips, "...and often dangerous."
Feeling her eyes drawn to the shadows trapped in the ripples of glass, Firia said, "Why is he in there?"
Lafitte brought his hand to his chin. "What Xelloss does in his privacy is none of my business..."
Firia gritted her teeth. After your little quips about Xelloss and I's relationship, I doubt the validity of that statement.
"...but he did pop in to tell me that he was in an important conference and was not to be disturbed."
Firia looked up. "He did? When?"
"Um." Lafitte scratched his head. "Not exactly recently, but not so long that I'd get to worrying. He's been gone for much longer, and with no harm to him."
"Yes, but..." Firia glanced again to the door. Its twisted shadows seemed to look back at her with eyes of pitch. "Has he ever stayed inside of this room for that long?"
"Well, no...hey!"
Firia clutched the door's handle and wrenched it open before Lafitte could stop her.
* * *
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Xelloss smiled up at his visitor. "I cleaned." Above the priest, the chessboard lay on the table, its pieces stationed on and around it in the shape of a happy face. "Darn my shoddy memory. I forgot where all the soldiers went. Is that okay?"
Dynast wasn't as happy as Xelloss was with the arrangement, and let the priest know through the poetry of brutality. Xelloss didn't care. For him, it was all about the little victories.