Disclaimer: Look! Look! *points gleefully* It's the official document
saying that I own them all! Look, it's right there! That pig with wings has
it in his mouth!
Warnings: Er, a little death and a really lame name for the murder weapon! :) And no, I haven't forgotten about AOD or GD ... please be patient, I promise they are coming.
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Smoke & Mirrors.
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Prologue. Little Blonde Boy.
The uninvited guest didn't bother with hiding in the shadows or tip-toeing across the floor. It had no real need for any concealment and was quite happy to just stand there, right out in the open, and wait for the right time. Or the courage to do what it had come for. That was suddenly hard to find now that he was actually here.
The other occupant in the room did not notice the unbidden visitor at all. He was sitting in an armchair, just a few feet away, immersed in a book. But it was not the distraction of the reading that caused the ignorance of how he wasn't alone. Nor was the intruder invisible by any means.
The young man chose not to see, and the unbidden visitor chose not to be seen.
So one sat, reading, as the other stood, watching. Neither making much noise and little movement. The fire in the hearth burned on, casting flickering shadows on the far wall. Shadows of one in the chair, bent over a book and one standing just to the side.
After some hours of this quiet confrontation, the unbidden visitor realised that it was time for what it had come for. A rustle of cloth as it shifted its arms and brought out a small wooden box from a pocket of his outer robe. The faintest click as the latch was brought up and a slight squeak, as if in protest, from one of the hinges as the lid was raised.
Even these noises, all very obvious in the silence of the room, did not rouse the suspicions of the other person. He sat in the chair, oblivious to all, running his fingers down the side of the page, keeping his place.
From inside the box, floating out on to the lip and then down the side, came a puff of blue smoke. It lazily drifted to the floor as if it possessed a large weight that gravity could pull down. It touched the carpet and changed direction, billowing slowly across the floor in the direction of the chair, heading for its target.
It danced around the target's feet, as if toying with its fated victim and then slid around the shins, like how a boa constrictor would curl around its prey. The smoke rose to waft around the lower half of the armchair. It was almost like a mist as it drifted along, leaving behind a faint, slightly sticky trail that showed where it had touched something.
Still the occupant of the quiet house noticed nothing suspicious or out of place. The smoke brushed along the fingers of his left hand, then slid right across the page he was reading. He merely turned the page slowly and continued on with his task.
Blue mixed with white as the ribbon of smoke reached the man's hair. It seem to have itself a great time, twining in and out of the strands, barely even making them shift. It slid down the back of his head and then around, searching blindly for an entrance. It found one all to easily.
The man's lips were slightly open as he was breathing from his mouth instead of his nose. The smoke slipped between and was mostly inhaled with the man's next breath. It helped itself down the rest of the way, into the lungs. Stretching itself out, it coated the insides, everywhere it could reach and sent the small excess into the bloodstream. This was the second step to its job.
Through the veins and arteries, everywhere that it could stretch, it gracefully twisted and turned, following every path. It took its time, still the same lazy pace it had used while outside of the body, when it had been searching for its target. It seeped into muscles and into bone. It took up residence in the heart. It swirled around the man's brain and then in, through every fibre. For one brief moment it was the man, every molecule of the body, even to the point that it could spill into the hair and skin on the very outside.
Then the moment passed. Its mission was completed.
The majority of the smoke started to retreat. It wanted to return home now.
----
The man's eyes had nearly been fully closed as sleep was starting to pull at him, but they had opened quickly when the smoke entered his lungs. Finally he realised that something was wrong. He clutched at his throat when he went on to further realise that he couldn't breathe. His eyes widened just a little more and his heart sped up as fear began in earnest.
He scrambled to his feet, trying to call out, but no air was entering or exiting his lungs at all. In a panic, and driven by instinct, he made his way to the small table to his right, knocking over a few of the plates that were sitting on it as he desperately searched for what he needed. His lungs started to feel as if they were on fire.
He finally found his wand and brought it up, only to realise that he couldn't speak to perform anything. His eyes narrowed in determination as he frantically searched his memory for spells he could do without words. A small shower of green stars lit up the room briefly, but he doubted it was enough to get anyone's attention, from either inside or outside of the house.
He fell to his knees, trying to gasp, as overwhelming pain seemed to spread from his burning lungs. He could feel it all over, running down his legs, across his back. He unthinkingly held out a hand to balance himself and wrapped his fingers around the bottom of the overhanging tablecloth. But all that happened was that he pulled more things to the floor. He closed his eyes and wished he could howl, if not to call for help then to at least show his pain.
The muscles around his lungs were heaving, desperately trying to move air either in or out, but it didn't work. As the almost relieving thought that he was going to die and leave the pain behind, flitted across his mind, the pain escalated into his head as well. Grey eyes snapped back open as he finally thought of one spell that he could do without speaking, and he knew it would draw somebody's attention.
More green stars shot out of his wand, but much faster. They streaked through the ceiling, and then another, and then another, searching for clear sky. The spell had been designed like that for better clarity and even though he couldn't speak, it followed its programming and formed perfectly once it had reached outside.
For one last time, the Dark Mark lit up the night sky over a peaceful little town that had not seen it for well over five years. And it hung there quite happily, its green stars twinkling away brightly, its green smoke billowing out around it as if it was burning
But back inside the house, eyes that had been filled with pain had finally spotted who had done this to him. The only things the grey eyes held now were mild surprise and even some understanding. The man had recognised his intruder, and could almost see why this had occurred. That didn't make him happy about it though and he pointed his wand at his attacker, thinking quickly for any offensive spell he could cast while silent.
The hooded figure stepped closer and patted the kneeling man on the head, gently plucking the wand from his weakening fingers. "My little blonde boy." It whispered. "The pain will pass." A smile that couldn't be seen from behind the hood. "You know why it had to come to this."
With his head still turned up and his still eyes open, the dying man fell to his side and lay there, unmoving, on the carpet, his mind completely gone. Whether he knew why this had to happen before was unknown, but it didn't matter now. And it didn't change the fact that the smoke was still finishing him off. His body seemed to shrink in places, his skin went a slightly grey colour and became taut, the eyes burst inwards, as if collapsing in on themselves. Bones cracked in some places and the skin eventually went slightly slack and quite wrinkled in some places.
From between the parted lips of the shrivelled corpse, the blue smoke slid back out of the man and then glided its way across the floor. It appeared to be a larger cloud than what it had been before, but the change wasn't overly noticeable.
It slid up the body of the murderer and obediently wafted back into its box. The intruder gently closed the lid and snapped the latch back into place. It had mixed feelings about what it had just done. It knew that some people just deserved what happened to them but it wasn't too sure why it was the one that had to do it. It was not proud with what had happened, but again brought forward the reasons of why it had to be. It couldn't leave just yet, it wanted to say goodbye. And there was still one last matter that had to be taken care of.
It knelt down next to the deceased and slowly brought out a knife from one of its many other pockets. It made the cut carefully, not wanting to harm the body anymore than necessary, because that could cause it to crumble at the moment. No blood came forth from the cut, for there was nothing left but an empty shell. Even the murderer was quite disturbed by this.
Finished with its work and satisfied that everything was how it should be, the hooded figure stood back up and slowly walked out of the room. It had many things to think about tonight, even if it didn't really want to dwell on such things. It had found that it didn't like the stain that murder seemed to have left on its heart and soul, but it had been chosen to do a mission, and do it, it would.
Besides, he could hardly back out now.
A few short minutes later, completely unbeknownst to the killer or anyone else in the house, another column of blue smoke rose from the dead man's lips. It slid across the floor and up. And then all around the room. And out the door. And up the hallway. But try as it might, it could not find its home. If smoke could be distressed, this cloud certainly would be.
It slid out the nearest window and all the way down to the ground. From there it floated into a forest, all the while searching for where it belonged, yet moving further and further away from where that actually was. And so the killer had not just taken a life that night, it had placed a plague on the world as well.
One was already dead that night ... and the Breath of Thanatos was no longer contained.
To Be Continued.
Warnings: Er, a little death and a really lame name for the murder weapon! :) And no, I haven't forgotten about AOD or GD ... please be patient, I promise they are coming.
.
.
.
Smoke & Mirrors.
.
Prologue. Little Blonde Boy.
The uninvited guest didn't bother with hiding in the shadows or tip-toeing across the floor. It had no real need for any concealment and was quite happy to just stand there, right out in the open, and wait for the right time. Or the courage to do what it had come for. That was suddenly hard to find now that he was actually here.
The other occupant in the room did not notice the unbidden visitor at all. He was sitting in an armchair, just a few feet away, immersed in a book. But it was not the distraction of the reading that caused the ignorance of how he wasn't alone. Nor was the intruder invisible by any means.
The young man chose not to see, and the unbidden visitor chose not to be seen.
So one sat, reading, as the other stood, watching. Neither making much noise and little movement. The fire in the hearth burned on, casting flickering shadows on the far wall. Shadows of one in the chair, bent over a book and one standing just to the side.
After some hours of this quiet confrontation, the unbidden visitor realised that it was time for what it had come for. A rustle of cloth as it shifted its arms and brought out a small wooden box from a pocket of his outer robe. The faintest click as the latch was brought up and a slight squeak, as if in protest, from one of the hinges as the lid was raised.
Even these noises, all very obvious in the silence of the room, did not rouse the suspicions of the other person. He sat in the chair, oblivious to all, running his fingers down the side of the page, keeping his place.
From inside the box, floating out on to the lip and then down the side, came a puff of blue smoke. It lazily drifted to the floor as if it possessed a large weight that gravity could pull down. It touched the carpet and changed direction, billowing slowly across the floor in the direction of the chair, heading for its target.
It danced around the target's feet, as if toying with its fated victim and then slid around the shins, like how a boa constrictor would curl around its prey. The smoke rose to waft around the lower half of the armchair. It was almost like a mist as it drifted along, leaving behind a faint, slightly sticky trail that showed where it had touched something.
Still the occupant of the quiet house noticed nothing suspicious or out of place. The smoke brushed along the fingers of his left hand, then slid right across the page he was reading. He merely turned the page slowly and continued on with his task.
Blue mixed with white as the ribbon of smoke reached the man's hair. It seem to have itself a great time, twining in and out of the strands, barely even making them shift. It slid down the back of his head and then around, searching blindly for an entrance. It found one all to easily.
The man's lips were slightly open as he was breathing from his mouth instead of his nose. The smoke slipped between and was mostly inhaled with the man's next breath. It helped itself down the rest of the way, into the lungs. Stretching itself out, it coated the insides, everywhere it could reach and sent the small excess into the bloodstream. This was the second step to its job.
Through the veins and arteries, everywhere that it could stretch, it gracefully twisted and turned, following every path. It took its time, still the same lazy pace it had used while outside of the body, when it had been searching for its target. It seeped into muscles and into bone. It took up residence in the heart. It swirled around the man's brain and then in, through every fibre. For one brief moment it was the man, every molecule of the body, even to the point that it could spill into the hair and skin on the very outside.
Then the moment passed. Its mission was completed.
The majority of the smoke started to retreat. It wanted to return home now.
----
The man's eyes had nearly been fully closed as sleep was starting to pull at him, but they had opened quickly when the smoke entered his lungs. Finally he realised that something was wrong. He clutched at his throat when he went on to further realise that he couldn't breathe. His eyes widened just a little more and his heart sped up as fear began in earnest.
He scrambled to his feet, trying to call out, but no air was entering or exiting his lungs at all. In a panic, and driven by instinct, he made his way to the small table to his right, knocking over a few of the plates that were sitting on it as he desperately searched for what he needed. His lungs started to feel as if they were on fire.
He finally found his wand and brought it up, only to realise that he couldn't speak to perform anything. His eyes narrowed in determination as he frantically searched his memory for spells he could do without words. A small shower of green stars lit up the room briefly, but he doubted it was enough to get anyone's attention, from either inside or outside of the house.
He fell to his knees, trying to gasp, as overwhelming pain seemed to spread from his burning lungs. He could feel it all over, running down his legs, across his back. He unthinkingly held out a hand to balance himself and wrapped his fingers around the bottom of the overhanging tablecloth. But all that happened was that he pulled more things to the floor. He closed his eyes and wished he could howl, if not to call for help then to at least show his pain.
The muscles around his lungs were heaving, desperately trying to move air either in or out, but it didn't work. As the almost relieving thought that he was going to die and leave the pain behind, flitted across his mind, the pain escalated into his head as well. Grey eyes snapped back open as he finally thought of one spell that he could do without speaking, and he knew it would draw somebody's attention.
More green stars shot out of his wand, but much faster. They streaked through the ceiling, and then another, and then another, searching for clear sky. The spell had been designed like that for better clarity and even though he couldn't speak, it followed its programming and formed perfectly once it had reached outside.
For one last time, the Dark Mark lit up the night sky over a peaceful little town that had not seen it for well over five years. And it hung there quite happily, its green stars twinkling away brightly, its green smoke billowing out around it as if it was burning
But back inside the house, eyes that had been filled with pain had finally spotted who had done this to him. The only things the grey eyes held now were mild surprise and even some understanding. The man had recognised his intruder, and could almost see why this had occurred. That didn't make him happy about it though and he pointed his wand at his attacker, thinking quickly for any offensive spell he could cast while silent.
The hooded figure stepped closer and patted the kneeling man on the head, gently plucking the wand from his weakening fingers. "My little blonde boy." It whispered. "The pain will pass." A smile that couldn't be seen from behind the hood. "You know why it had to come to this."
With his head still turned up and his still eyes open, the dying man fell to his side and lay there, unmoving, on the carpet, his mind completely gone. Whether he knew why this had to happen before was unknown, but it didn't matter now. And it didn't change the fact that the smoke was still finishing him off. His body seemed to shrink in places, his skin went a slightly grey colour and became taut, the eyes burst inwards, as if collapsing in on themselves. Bones cracked in some places and the skin eventually went slightly slack and quite wrinkled in some places.
From between the parted lips of the shrivelled corpse, the blue smoke slid back out of the man and then glided its way across the floor. It appeared to be a larger cloud than what it had been before, but the change wasn't overly noticeable.
It slid up the body of the murderer and obediently wafted back into its box. The intruder gently closed the lid and snapped the latch back into place. It had mixed feelings about what it had just done. It knew that some people just deserved what happened to them but it wasn't too sure why it was the one that had to do it. It was not proud with what had happened, but again brought forward the reasons of why it had to be. It couldn't leave just yet, it wanted to say goodbye. And there was still one last matter that had to be taken care of.
It knelt down next to the deceased and slowly brought out a knife from one of its many other pockets. It made the cut carefully, not wanting to harm the body anymore than necessary, because that could cause it to crumble at the moment. No blood came forth from the cut, for there was nothing left but an empty shell. Even the murderer was quite disturbed by this.
Finished with its work and satisfied that everything was how it should be, the hooded figure stood back up and slowly walked out of the room. It had many things to think about tonight, even if it didn't really want to dwell on such things. It had found that it didn't like the stain that murder seemed to have left on its heart and soul, but it had been chosen to do a mission, and do it, it would.
Besides, he could hardly back out now.
A few short minutes later, completely unbeknownst to the killer or anyone else in the house, another column of blue smoke rose from the dead man's lips. It slid across the floor and up. And then all around the room. And out the door. And up the hallway. But try as it might, it could not find its home. If smoke could be distressed, this cloud certainly would be.
It slid out the nearest window and all the way down to the ground. From there it floated into a forest, all the while searching for where it belonged, yet moving further and further away from where that actually was. And so the killer had not just taken a life that night, it had placed a plague on the world as well.
One was already dead that night ... and the Breath of Thanatos was no longer contained.
To Be Continued.