Rated 16+ for thematic elements, violence, mild innuendo, crude humor, mild blood, a death, and Zack Fair~ish ending.
1. Dinner of Flames
He flew high above the town, skating on wind currents like a skybird, using his staff as a leverage to perform death~defying spirals and tricks, seen by all and by none, as everyone went about their own deal below.
The children saw him, though, laughing and pointing at their old friend swooping through the skies.
Another saw him as well, one of shadows and darkness, standing in plain sight but unseen by all.
This man was once part of a larger group, but had lately struck out on his own, leading a solitary and quiet life on the backways and roadsides of the world.
Until he'd crossed paths with...
The man flexed his long fingers, the knuckles cracking with a menacing pop, hidden in the black gloves he refused to take off, even so long after the end of the group he once called family.
He ran a hand through his red hair, spiky and tangled, as he watched him, the boy, his white hair glinting like a new snow fall in the light of the sun, a dusting of frost powdering his blue hoodie.
The man watched, absently scratching a cheek once emblazened with a black tear drop, now smooth and bare.
Well, at least bare; his fingers scraped roughly on a days beard scruff, an out of control 5 o'clock shadow.
It didn't matter: a quick shower and shave in a cheap motel, change into the fresh coat and pants....
and start searching for his place, his hollow; winter was arriving here, and Axle could wait for Jack to screw up, leaving him vulnerable.
He'd get back what had been taken, and put this whole thing to rest, forever.
Rated 16+ for thematic elements, violence, mild innuendo, crude humor, mild blood, a death, and Zack Fair~ish ending.
1. Dinner of Flames
He flew high above the town, skating on wind currents like a skybird, using his staff as a leverage to perform death~defying spirals and tricks, seen by all and by none, as everyone went about their own deal below.
The children saw him, though, laughing and pointing at their old friend swooping through the skies.
Another saw him as well, one of shadows and darkness, standing in plain sight but unseen by all.
This man was once part of a larger group, but had lately struck out on his own, leading a solitary and quiet life on the backways and roadsides of the world.
Until he'd crossed paths with...
The man flexed his long fingers, the knuckles cracking with a menacing pop, hidden in the black gloves he refused to take off, even so long after the end of the group he once called family.
He ran a hand through his red hair, spiky and tangled, as he watched him, the boy, his white hair glinting like a new snow fall in the light of the sun, a dusting of frost powdering his blue hoodie.
The man watched, absently scratching a cheek once emblazened with a black tear drop, now smooth and bare.
Well, at least bare; his fingers scraped roughly on a days beard scruff, an out of control 5 o'clock shadow.
It didn't matter: a quick shower and shave in a cheap motel, change into the fresh coat and pants....
and start searching for his place, his hollow; winter was arriving here, and Axle could wait for Jack to screw up, leaving him vulnerable.
He'd get back what had been taken, and put this whole thing to rest, forever.
Edited by TheTimidLight