Memoir - 4
* * *
Warren watched the backs of his guests as he rolled a cigarette with the ease of constant practice. He could take them directly to his superior, yes. But he wasn't going to. He was walking there. He didn't care how quickly She wanted them to arrive. He wanted to wait. He was going to calm down, smoke a cigarette, and let Her simmer. Warren flicked the tip of the cigarette with his finger. A rosy glow and a crackle, and he could inhale.
Mazoku had a natural immunity to chemical addictions. Warren had worked very hard to overcome that little obstacle. With an astral body, mind over matter meant that much more. Some might think it trivial, but Warren knew that it was all worth it every time he drew in the smoke. He had created a little mental collar for himself. As minutes passed it ever-so-slowly tightened around his neck, constricting his freedom, making him panic. When he breathed in the fumes, the collar went completely slack. He could do it anytime, anywhere. Just a flicker of light and a breath of air and then, relaxation. A little collar that he could control. It did wonders for taking his mind off of the collars he couldn't control.
Damn that Bitch. She had no right. She had no right. Warren blinked as a patch of sunlight washed over him. They had walked out of the simple little house on the hill where his room was. Now a pleasant outdoor stroll waited ahead. The little stone path they were on led through shady trees and colorful gardens, wandering as if it really didn't care where it was supposed to end. Warren enjoyed the open space, the birds soaring overhead and the occasional call of some wild animal in the distance. This place was free. It was home. His home.
She could never take that away from him.
"Stop looking back at me and just follow the path," Warren mumbled around his cigarette. Xelloss and Valteria jumped a little. "Look around if you want. Take your time. We'll get there soon enough." He sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets and letting his mind wander as the two wards took their attention away from him. He needed this. He needed a damn break. It would be short. They would arrive at Zelas' very soon. But damned gods, he needed a fucking break.
That twit in front of him was Xelloss. Warren couldn't lie to himself anymore. It wasn't just some lookalike, some fluke of nature or a Copy set up to trick him. That was Xelloss. That was really Xelloss.
He was alive. And that was him.
Warren hated irony even more than he hated dragons.
It had been so much better once. Before Xelloss left, Warren didn't have to deal with Her. He didn't have to deal with the grief. But for years, it was nothing but Her, nobody else to talk to, nobody else worthy of listening to what he had to say. It had been extremely lonely, and it only seemed to get worse as time went on. Then, Xelloss turned up...and now everything had gone completely to shit.
It wasn't fair. He shouldn't have to do this. He shouldn't have to follow Her will. Why couldn't he just retreat to the gardens, to his room, to the astral plane and just lay back and never have to listen to Her, just finally be able to curl up and grieve?
This was madness. She was angry at him? How dare She chew him out, harangue him? She had NO RIGHT after all of this. She had no right to judge him at all. Didn't he deserve respite? Of all the inhabitants of the island, why was he the most deserving yet the least rewarded? It wasn't his fault She hated him.
Why make him deal with Xelloss? It only rubbed in his face what he had lost.
Xelloss and Valteria stopped. The path ended at a pair of doors. They belonged to a building on the island that was out of place. It was built similarly - stone and palm and bamboo and shells and everything else made up its eclectic and sturdy frame. But the other buildings on the island were worn with time, weathered well by age and the elements. This was much newer, only years old instead of centuries. It faced a cove and rested just beyond the highest possible tideline of the adjacent waters. This was also a bit strange - the rest of the buildings were much higher, facing cliffs or thick clumps of jungle. Nothing else was built on the beach.
And while Xelloss thought this was strange, what he really wanted to know was why he was just given a walking tour of an island if his presence was so urgently required that what was probably the only mazoku available for the job had been sent to go fetch him. He was not about to mention any of this, though. "So, would you like to wait around a little more, or should we enter?" His voice was drenched in sarcasm. It had been a long day, and Warren really didn't deserve his courtesy.
The mazoku stepped up to him, dark and somehow looming from his lesser height. He spoke with utter, expressionless calm. "Please do not burden me with having to light another cigarette by making me shove this one into your eye." With that said, he opened the doors and waved his guests in.
Xelloss and Valteria immediately looked up as they walked inside. Light streamed down from the ceiling like crystal rain. Above them was not solid wood or rock, but woven bamboo sealed with clear melted glass. Sunlight seeped through the tiny gaps and seams, peppering the floor below with drops of gold.
"I like how the construction standards on this island instill everyone with a suitable sense of awe when they enter my abode." The voice was laced with chargrin, its pitch brittle and worn like old wicker. The two guests turned to face its owner, an old, thin woman who just barely came up to Warren's height. Her skin was bleached with age. A very pale tan was all that the ancient leather could hold anymore, even in a climate like this. Her hair was probably the light grey of her eyebrows, but an ornate headpiece that resembled a giant crustacean hid any evidence that could prove such an assumption. Time had not been kind to her face. The whites of her eyes were tinged red, and one of the orbs wandered lazily away from focus. Her fingers were just as withered as her cheeks, and the only thing that seemed to give her any stability was an ivory-white piece of armor that covered her shoulders and swept down her chest in a sharp V. Long pale grey fabric hung from it, draping around the rest of her body and pooling at her feet.
Xelloss was struck with confusion. Surely this must be Zelas, as she was obviously Warren's mistress and the ruler of this island. But...no...it just wasn't right. She had an inner strength, but she was far too...too bitter? He couldn't place it. Every time he attempted to dredge Zelas up from his mind, the sands of memory slid through his fingers and cascaded into oblivion.
He looked up, realizing that the woman was now standing before him. "You are obviously in deep thought." Her smirk faded into a look of understanding. "You're very confused. You think I'm Zelas, don't you?" Before Xelloss could formulate a reply to that, an indescribable sound behind him made him turn.
Warren stood back from the group, almost as if he were keeping himself at a safe distance from them. His stance brought to mind a feral cat on guard and about to spit. There was something on his face that Xelloss would never be able to decipher - was it outrage, or was it grief? Fury or pain? "I cannot stand to stay in this place for one second longer, Lady Dolphin." His voice was stretched so tightly that Xelloss almost expected it to fray.
The woman nodded to Warren. "That's good. I need you to perform a task for me anyways. Take the child with you while Xelloss and I talk." She waved to the door, dismissing the mazoku as if he was a petty servant.
Xelloss' eyes widened and Warren's fangs flashed. "NOW WAIT JUST A MINUTE!" The two of them paused for a moment and blinked, realizing they had shouted in unision.
Dolphin chuckled, shaking her head. "Now-now, Warren. You won't dare hurt the child, will you? I told you exactly how I would punish you if you pulled any more of your stunts with these two. And you know I meant it." Her voice was lilting and playful, but the hard edge under it told Xelloss all he needed to know about Valteria's safety with Warren.
The mazoku stood absolutely still, staring at Dolphin with an expression of utter hatred. He finally whirled around, grabbed Valteria by the wrist, and led him straight outside without another look at anything in the room. The doors slammed.
Dust motes shook free from the beams above with the impact. They floated through the air, gliding along the rays of golden light and turning the room into an almost surreal vision. As they settled, Dolphin nodded at her guest. "Come along and have a seat, Xelloss. We have much to talk about."
* * *
Warren flung himself against the outside wall of the building, leaning back against the uneven grains of bamboo and palm. He clawed into the wood, his shoulders drawing up so tightly that Valteria's eyes widened at the sight. Warren only sunk his fingers further into the wall, scraping the tips until his gloves frayed. His eyes were wide and unblinking, his face twitching around them. Finally, just when Valteria was ready to inch away, the mazoku closed his eyes and sank back against the wall, his arms going slack.
He slowly brought his hand to his inner jacket pocket, tugged out a few papers and other essentials, and then proceeded to frantically roll a cigarette. His fingers weren't following orders anymore. They fell out of rank and file, slipping over paper and catching in creases. He cursed under his breath, which was quick and rough and relentless. Finally the task was done and he brought the little paper stick to his lips. Fire. Breath. Slack?
The collars were so tight! Dolphin's gnarled fingers tugged at his leash, bringing the choke-chains to bear. Everyone's fingers were around his neck, everyone had a rope there, a few links, a strap of leather. He couldn't breathe. By gods, he needed to breathe! Fire stroked his throat, burning it open. Air rushed through, blessed damned smoke-filled poisonous joyful air. It was enough to free his fingers, setting them to their task again. Rolling again, rolling through his fingers, tucking, rolling, fuck it slipped, roll, roll...lick...
"Hold this," he said with barely half a breath, handing Valteria the cigarette as his fingers leapt to make another. The boy took it silently, holding out his hand in case Warren wanted it back soon. Warren deposited the second cigarette instead, forcing his hands to start on another as the stick in his mouth grew dangerously short. He dragged the air in again, breathing like his life depended on how much poison he could swallow. The reins gave him a little slack. Just a little. The wick came to its end and Warren spat it out. Valteria handed him one of the finished cigarettes. Warren nodded numbly, his head bobbing with the frantic rhythm of his breath. A spark and a gasp and he had rolled the last cigarette. He couldn't do it again. He couldn't control his fingers. Valteria took the paper stick before Warren could drop it.
Warren was practically having a panic attack in front of Valteria. This new mazoku scared the dragon a lot less than the first Warren: the cool and collected happy brute. Warren just looked sick now, sick and pathetic. Valteria had never met a mazoku before this day, but living with his father had taught him how to take care of adults at an early age. Warren's condition brought forth an automatic reaction in the boy. He was used to being the calm one whenever everyone else panicked. True, it made his mother very frustrated when he did things like patiently talk her down from a fit. But his father said that it was a very useful talent. Thus, Valteria didn't know this island, and he didn't know mazoku, but he knew distress. So when Warren burned through the next cigarette and barely showed any improvement for it, Valteria quietly handed him another and waited.
Warren's vision was blurring. Oh gods. Demon-fucking-gods. Dolphin Dolphin Dolphin Dolphin she wasn't Zelas, she wasn't Zelas, oh gods, oh gods, dead fucking gods, Shubranigdo fucking MAGNUS. Oh no. Oh no. Not the leash. Not the leash. Dolphin would you put down the leash- choking, choking, cho
Valteria gave Warren the last cigarette and watched as the mazoku barely managed to light it this time.
BURNING yes, burning, it's okay, leash burning, oh gods yes, Shubranigdo thank you, demons fucking gods fucking demons please more fire, oh gods, oh...burning away. Fire flaking away from his neck. Freeing his neck. Freeing his neck. No chains. Just fire. Just fire.
Warren slid to the ground. He slumped over and sat on the grass, puffing smoke in and out. Draping his arms over his knees, the mazoku leaned back and smiled just a little as the wick in his mouth happily burned. He sighed. His voice was weak and rusty, but it was also a tiny bit pleased. "Have a seat, Valteria. I like you."
The boy sat down next to him, looking out at the sky. Night was creeping up, the setting sun a twin for the fire in Warren's mouth.
Warren exhaled a little more poison, bled out a little more pain. Everything was fine. Yes. He settled himself in to watch the stars come out. "Boy, you know, you're O.K."
Valteria nodded, his eyes on the sky and his legs ready to run the second Warren changed his mind.
* * *
Xelloss let himself be herded into a large wicker chair by Dolphin; at least, he told himself that he was letting her herd him. He didn't want to think about what she would do to him if he protested. If she knew ways to keep Warren in line, surely she could devise a few measures against Xelloss. He tried to settle himself, keep his legs down flat and comfortable, his hands on the armrests, still and trusting. But his body didn't want to comply. It was as nervous as he was, and demonstrated this through a tapping foot or drumming fingers. Xelloss cursed himself silently, then realized that his outward appearance didn't matter a whit. Dolphin could read his emotions like a child's picture book.
The lady smiled her withered, brittle smirk and sat down across from him in an identical chair. Between them was a simple table - lashed stalks of bamboo supported a circular slab of wavy glass. Seashells and pebbles floated inside. A tea service appeared on the table suddenly, making Xelloss blink with surprise.
At Dolphin's gesture, the pot poured hot coffee into two cups. She took her own cup, sipping from it. "Being in Warren's presence tends to give me a great desire for a strong drink," her withered voice creaked. "I thought you might have a similar need."
Xelloss numbly took his cup and sipped it, forcing himself not to cough. He hated black coffee. Firia could drink it like a horse for some reason, but all it did was scorch his tongue and light a fire under his brain. Then again, perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing, considering his current mental state.
Across from him, the mazoku ruler chuckled. "If you don't like it, don't drink it."
Xelloss set his cup down and found himself wishing for something else to hold or drink. Anything to keep him from feeling so self-conscious and exposed. Now all he could think about was Dolphin's gaze, pinning him to his chair like a prize butterfly.
Dolphin's line of sight wandered from Xelloss' neck down to his ankles, focusing on things that weren't visible to human eyes. She nodded to herself and sipped her coffee. "I see Devil's Nest has left its scars on you, Xelloss." She smiled as the human's head jerked up, panic seizing his face. "And I see that the scars are more than just physical." She cocked her head sideways, almost leering at him. "Would you like to talk about them?"
"No!" Xelloss spat without hesitation. He drew back into his chair, his body automatically moving as far away from Dolphin as it could.
A dry chuckle rasped from Dolphin's wrinkled neck. "Fair enough. You won't talk about them, and you've the right. But I'll talk about your scars, Xelloss." One foggy grey eye locked with his, the other tilting to gaze over his shoulder. Xelloss shuddered. "After all, between the two of us, only I know who really gave them to you."
* * *
He looked very human.
Firia forced herself to breathe as the room's new occupant shut the door.
The man was tall, with long fingers and longer hair. The straight, shiny, almost oily black mane reached down to his ankles, except for his wispy bangs, which drifted a ways past his shoulders. His skin was light, but not pale. He wore a coat, as long as his hair, made of dark red silk and trimmed in black. He was absolutely, fastidiously clean. And he held himself as if he owned this room and everything inside of it.
He looked so much like a man. So very much like a human being. Even the shadows in his gray-blue eyes could be explained by the simple lack of light in the room. Firia wished so much that she could believe her eyes and only her eyes for the rest of her life. They told her something she wanted to believe, whereas her draconic senses were telling her the truth.
A dragon would have to be more than blind not to sense a mazoku that powerful. They would have to be dead as well.
Firia felt even more naked and absolutely helpless. She could only thank whichever gods could listen in such a place that the mazoku's attentions were on the Ourachs and not herself.
Avril and her companions bowed deeply before the mazoku. The dragoness smiled, purring as she spoke. "Master, we have a new toy for you."
The mazoku's gaze flicked over to Firia. The Fwin's heart jumped in her chest and she looked away. He chuckled. "She looks tense." His eyes flicked back to Avril. "Is that your fault?"
Avril's grin widened. "Of course." She rose as the mazoku gestured for her to stand. He waved his hand, dismissing the other Ourachs. Avril waited for the door to close behind them, then dropped her rigid stance of attention for a more relaxed, languid pose. "I've never seen a Fire Fwin before, Master. Do they all look like her?"
'Master' smiled, an expression that wasn't sinister so much as subtlely possessive. "Not all of them are as beautiful, but yes, she does have the normal attributes." He watched as Avril sauntered up next to Firia and stroked one of her long ears with a fingernail.
"Ahh. I was wondering about these since they seem so similar to my own." Avril gestured to her ears, which were just as long as Firia's but forked halfway up, resulting in two narrow tips. The blue catseye bead in her ear hung from a gold hoop that pierced both tips. The other guards had the same piercing and their ears were similarly pronged. Firia assumed with that information that it was an Ourach attribute. She made these calculations and observations in the back of her head, though. Her present thoughts were mostly focused on the fact that 'Master' was walking closer, provoking her fear to rise to new levels.
"This dragon's tribe was the only one besides yours to have long ears. The attribute has long been equivilated with rulership and royalty because of the actions of both tribes."
Avril's eyes gleamed. "The poor Ancients." She stroked Firia's hair. "It's interesting that we both come from the blood of tyrants. Such a shame that the twain didn't meet. I would have loved to see an alliance between us." She smirked. "Or at least a war."
"All's the pity, dear Avril. You're lucky to see a Phoesid at all. Even I had been certain that the race was extinct." His eyes swept over Firia, sending chills through her skin. "She's very afraid."
"Of course, my Master. What Fwin wouldn't fear your presence?" She twined her hands around his arm, leaning against him. Her eyes were adoring, her body so relaxed that, should he fancy it, 'Master' could break her neck before she'd ever have a chance of reacting. Barring her restraints, Firia felt that it would be proper to leave the room. The dragon was exhuding desire, and 'Master' gave no visible sign that she should stop.
'Master' chuckled, stroking Avril's wispy lavender mane. "I know you've helped her fear along quite a bit. What did you do?" He looked down at Avril, his expression pure amusement.
Avril shrugged. "I pretended that we were picking one of the Pit pets. I was going to scare the wits out of all of them, then drag her out as a finale. But do you know what she did?" The Ourach looked up at her Master.
The mazoku stroked Firia's cheek with a gloved hand. The Fwin almost fainted at the touch. He smiled. "What did you do?"
Oh, gods. He wanted her to answer. Firia closed her eyes, trying to imagine that the mazoku wasn't there. But the absence of visuals only meant that her draconic senses were more pronounced. Now she was only more aware of what was really beckoning to her for a reply. "I-" Firia choked on terror. She opened her eyes again, partially blinding her astral senses. "I volunteered to come."
The mazoku raised an eyebrow. "How very generous." He looked down at Avril. "Who was the lucky Amizmer she gave herself up for?"
Avril shrugged. "They have names? It was one of the whining little brats you so enjoy keeping in that place."
"They come in handy." The mazoku's gaze pierced through Firia's, freezing her thoughts and her muscles. "And yes, most dragons have names. As do you." His look was meaningful, and Firia could not disobey the command in it.
"My name is Firia." Her voice was calm. While under the mazoku's stare she lacked the strengh to saturate it with the panic in her heart.
'Master' nodded. "And your surname?" The voice was commanding, his eyes calm and expectant.
"Ul Copt." Her panic was rising. He was handling her far too calmly. The treatment drove more fear into her than Avril's disrespect and brutality. Her breath began to quicken. 'Master' laid a hand against her breastbone.
"Shh." He smiled, his touch sending an alien wave of calm into her. "There we are. You shouldn't be afraid. I'm not here to hurt you." He turned his attention to Avril, his hand gently rubbing Firia's chest. "Avril? Your presence here has been greatly appreciated."
The Ourach withdrew, bowing to her Master. "It has been a pleasure to attend."
"You sound a bit regretful." The mazoku smiled. "Go attend to the errant Hierephist in the Pit. You can entertain yourself with him afterwards. Take your time. I won't require your services here for quite a while."
Avril's eyes sparkled with sadistic joy. "Thank you, my Master." She walked away, almost prancing with glee. She turned before leaving. "Have fun with your new toy, Master." The door shut behind her. The sound was heavy and rung with finality.
The mazoku looked down at Firia, smiling. His hand lay still on her chest. "Remember to breathe, Firia."
Firia nodded dazedly, her mind reeling. The Ourachs were under the command of a mazoku? Avril had just been playing - her role in this hadn't happened by chance. This mazoku had desired her presence all along. What did he want with her? He must know that she had staged a jailbreak...
Her heart almost stopped. What if he knew about Xelloss?
"Shhh." The Mazoku touched a finger to her lips. "Don't be afraid. I can hear your desperation. It's shouting at me. Breathe. Relax. Ah, there we are. Good. I'm only here to talk with you." He withdrew his hand when Firia's breathing slowed to a calm pace, then sat on the side of the velvet couch. 'Master' smiled. "I know the Ul Copt line well. Were you a priestess just as your distant foremothers were?"
Firia nodded.
"You must have been a fine priestess, then. It's relieving to know that such a rich bloodline still flows. I have a penchant for the geneaology of dragon lines. You might say that tracking the flow of traits and studying the delicate weave of families is a hobby of mine."
He traced the lines on Firia's palm as he said this. His voice betrayed no malicious intent or dark agenda - if Firia wasn't certain that the 'man' was a mazoku, she'd have no misgivings about him. His familiar yet polite manners brought to mind a family doctor or a trusted teacher.
"Ah, Firia. Forgive my rudeness." The mazoku continued to trace the creases in Firia's palm as he bowed his head apologetically. "I have asked your name but given you nothing in return." The gleam from the corner of his eye transfixed the dragon for a moment, drawing her honesty forward and beckoning for it to speak.
"I...already know your name." Firia willed her mind to silence its twittering. She didn't want to hear the truth. She didn't want to think of this mazoku as what he really was. But the truth was cruel and demanded her attentions. Who else could it be? None of his kind could give off that dark of an aura and not be a Mazoku Lord. Even Xelloss wouldn't have come near that level of power years ago. And of the three Mazoku Lords still alive, which one was male? "You are Dynast Grausherra." There. She'd said it.
The mazoku smiled, leaning towards Firia until their noses almost touched. "Very good, Firia. But you may call me Grausherra."
* * *
"What the HELL are you saying?! The Dynast? What was he doing in Devil's Nest?!" Xelloss climbed to his knees, careful to avoid the shards of glass strewn around him. They were all that remained of the tabletop after his reaction to Dolphin's words.
Dolphin sipped her coffee, ignoring the broken teapot bleeding at her feet. Knowing how Xelloss felt about his past torture, she'd expected something like this. "What do you think? He was running it, of course. He still is."
* * *