The hand was indescribable. It was rosy pink, delicately tapered, but beyond this, it was a perfect mesh of the two most recognizable sides of the universe-- male and female.
Androgynous seemed too crude for such a creature.
Flea slipped one finger into the clear water. A mental twitch, and the air around the slender pink stalk twisted, expelling an alluring circle of pink. It, with an unheard sigh, morphed into a heart and blushed itself away into the rippling water. The mage drew the weapon back into his lap and turned to his charge.
"Some of us send out vibrations, little Janus." Flea told him, cajolingly. "Vibrations tell us lots of things about magic—important things we need to know."
Janus sat flat beside him, eyes set unflinchingly ahead. Through the weeks, Flea noted this ungenerous behavior, and found the new pet to be all levels of morose. The boy seemed to absorb everything without ever interacting with anything-- preserving himself.
Unfazed, Flea took the small white hand in his and moved it, flaccid, to the water. Janus stared down at the offending limb without emotion.
"Watch."
Flea made the air twist again and his hand warmed as though to produce something more-- perhaps another practiced heart-- but the hand beneath his own clenched and the rosy glow was violently sucked in. It pulsed outward a moment later as a bristling yellow, which stabbed into the water and left it a poisonous black.
Smiling, one or two hairs out of place, Flea calmly drew their hands out of the water.
Janus, eyes wide, stared at the black cloud. All the fish had crowded to the opposite edge of the pond to avoid it, and the splotch held an unnatural stillness. The calm pink figure beside him drew his gaze next, as though the boy was sifting for some answer-- any reason for the cloud-- but he caught himself. He shut down instantly. Janus did not snatch his hand back from the repulsive figure, but instead pulled steadily until Flea released him.
Flea studied him. The empowered hand fell and was kept perfectly limp, as if to erase the act. He smiled coyly.
"Well. Aren't you an uppity little thing?" He said mischievously, chiding him. The words were as a tickle to the ribs, but to one who detests touch. "Who said you could poke your nose in on my spell? Tricks like that could get you into trouble."
Janus tightened under the playful tone, cold and static next to Flea's invasive charms.
"You wanted me to," Janus muttered thickly.
One delicate eyebrow arched at the half-admission. But such a stalwart tone! Why not play a tad? He was obviously smarter than he looked.
"Oh! So you stole my love to make your war… because I wanted you to?" He giggled sweetly at his own witticism, then let the question hang. Janus looked abruptly to the side, sensing the silence twist into to tendrils, sifting for revealing information.
"… Or because you couldn't help it?"
The white hand clenched, and Flea had his answer.
As though sensing the Mystic's victory, Janus stayed silent, but resumed his scornful glare. The best defense is a best offense, after all—scorn, scorn and yet more scorn. Silly urchin. Flea shrugged, flipping his braid over his shoulder and expelling a sweet-smelling puff of gin-like perfume.
"Oh, who am I to say so?" He sighed, then shot the boy a meaningful glance under his lashes. "Your hand could have a mind all its own."
"He knows I'm useless."
Ah. Ozzie. Flea knew what that meant. It was a plea for escape. If he's useless, he can't darn well be used, can he?
Flea drew close to him, lips poised quietly. A promised kiss in every word.
"Do you not want to help us, dove?" A slender hand reached for his hair, but he jerked as though stung, suddenly coming to life at the intrusion.
"I'm useless!" He insisted. He was bitter now, but in all the wrong ways. Ah, these children were such transparent-- if endearing-- beasts. Flea waited for the other shoe to fall as Janus' fists clenched.
"I can't help you!" He yelled, then: "I won't!"
Wordlessly, Flea reached over and grasped him around the wrist once more. But no twist or travel to the water was needed-- Janus' hand twitched independently, hostile energy arcing out. Flea smiled then, watching Janus' betrayed gaze as it sunk in.
"Vibrations, precious," he said sultrily, bending close to his ear again. "Best thing about them? They're endearingly straightforward. They don't have ulterior motives. Not like little boys."
The pink hand slid away.
Silence fell between them for a good while, until Janus said abruptly:
"I'm not like her."
Flea frowned after a moment, and then only because he had figured out the half-concocted allusion.
The mysterious female again. 'Her'. Flea felt the faintest tingling of suspicion… even jealousy. Who was it that took up so much of this pretty, tragic little human's mind? He was with it every day-- molding, shaping, cajoling-- and he still paled in comparison to her.
Indeed, jealous was the word. Silly, yes, but Flea wasn't above basic jealousy. After all, was else made life interesting but petty distractions?
"He knows I'm useless." Janus muttered again, eyes lowered. How was it that repeating things proved validity in human's minds? It was another fumbling stab at exemption, and a poor one at that. Flea, however, didn't feel like rolling his eyes at this triteness. His little human's despair drew him in, cold as it was, and he gave a scornful little laugh. Oh, Janus had so much to learn.
Still, the boy had an intense fear of being used. What had he seen or done?
"Big and smelly as he is, Ozzie isn't the boss around here, darling. The imp's a placeholder, until someone more… worthy comes along." Flea murmured, sharing a cloying secret—he touched Janus between his small shoulders, just enough to make him draw away. Unfazed, he continued in his coy, confidential tone. Worming into the boy.
"He doesn't know much of anything, past his meals and the state of his chair. The only thing I'd keep of him is his ungodly nose, and even then I wouldn't touch it. I, on the other hand… well. Beauty isn't everything." He gave an indulgent smirk. "I see things."
Janus seemed unmoved by this, staring quietly off into the distance. The quiet pond dripped and croaked around them, wind stirring the reeds.
"I can tell you're hiding something." Flea told him carefully, finally. Janus stiffened. "A special something, perhaps, that you've never told anyone about? Are you trying to trick us, prince?"
The first shudder of fear was so very subtle, only Flea could have seen it.
The boy forced it into submission so quickly it was merely a tremor wandering up his spine. It would have been invisible to a brute like Ozzie, and wasted on a dry creature like Slash. Thrilled, Flea tightened the cage.
"We'll take it out of you." He whispered into Janus' whimsically slanted ear, drawing one finger along the innocent curve of his cheek, which contracted invisibly. "Whatever magical castle you toppled from, you aren't going back. You are ours, but you can be your own if you surpass us. It's time you learned that, dove. Owned until proven free."
Flea knew the danger of revealing this to him—to anyone who had fared as poorly as this creature had under their care. Most would rebel, if given hope. But there was a means to an end, and the terms to shape the means. Janus would rise knowing this, but the motivation to rise would be merely self-preserving. Flea had, by a delicate tip of the scales, turned the boy's own fear of being used against him. Janus would strive for freedom, never for domination.
But so very much would happen in between… that he would never have a choice in the matter.
A bullfrog croaked gaudily in the depths of the reeds. Forcing Flea's sculpted arms away from him, Janus clambered to his feet and darted off, pale hair trailing behind him.
Flea watched him until he had disappeared, then rose and headed in the same direction.
-.-.-.-
The chamber was dim and dank, squeezed by its low ceiling. Just, some could argue, like its occupant. Ozzie sat at his table, rolling scrolls hastily from side to side, until the door creaked. The arrival ducked into the room-- Flea's glowing pink skin looked sweetly out of place, as though a blessing to the dull atmosphere.
Ozzie stilled, vaguely expectant. Though an air of confidentiality lingered, a simple hand on the imp's shoulder was foregone. To say Flea didn't appreciate touching Ozzie was an understatement.
Flea, poised at a safe distance, simply hovered where he stopped, radiating intrigue. His small, petal-like mouth was amused.
"Well?" Ozzie finally grunted, turning to look at his withholding lieutenant.
Flea paused a moment before offering, in echoing simplicity: "He has something."
"You'd never know it from the look of him." Ozzie countered doubtfully, waiting for Flea to elaborate. Ozzie watched as the slim mage seemed to float by, eyes elsewhere. The Mystic knew the eccentric bastard would have liked it even better to keep it to himself, dropping sugar-coated hints, but he was content enough with this meager piece-- as a start.
"Don't let up on him." Flea said, voice luxurious with knowledge. "He's ferreting something away-- something strong."
"Something we want?"
The flower-like mystic seemed to wilt, round hips swinging hopelessly to one side. Ah, Ozzie the Crude. So painfully blunt. No room for frivolous speculations or expounding.
Despite the ruined moment, Flea's brown eyes gleamed.
"If we play our cards right? He could be everything we want."
Ozzie's wide slat of a mouth cracked in awe.
The next day, Janus produced a spark from his hands.