Armande couldn't help the small chuckle that formed as Patricus passed into the inner chambers. There was no...vibrancy. Immediacy. Life. The man's response was muted.
Both of them together looked at the Oni. He felt the lack of appreciation and yet...he sensed the drawing within of the other man. His lips moved almost imperceptibly. What he was saying was too faint to hear. Fascinated, Armande watched, the man's eyes seeming to go somewhere else, looking through the Oni.
In moments he seemed to return. Armande's lips quirked. The man was trying too hard. "The balance will come, Holy Father. A role can sometimes be like a tight pair of clothes. The man inside must be able to move about freely."
He looked at the Oni and curiously felt nothing. He had killed it, of course. The fight had been fierce. He remembered, and yet...the thrill and fear was gone. He looked at the claws, touched them. "He took a good swipe at me. We are fortunate to have anti-biotics. In the old days, such wounds killed." He pulled his robe back to expose his chest, pinkish white marks that matched the width of the claws. Other scars criss crossed his skin- a lifetime of battles playing across his body- but this was the deepest. "And yet...here, seeing it, I feel nothing." He gave Patricus a knowing look. "Emotion teaches the deepest lessons."
With that he turned, a signal to the guards that they should leave, before he headed further down. The final piece. The heavy wooden door was balanced and oiled and silently swung open.
A light switch was flicked. Armande watched Patricus curiously. The creature was bound to a chair by hands and feet. A sturdy one, of course. Dreyken were deceptively strong. Pale skin, almost translucent, black eyes above sharp cheek bones, long black hair flowing over narrow shoulders, it might have been mistaken for human. Many had made that error, to their painful regret.
It was the eyes that gave it away. And the teeth. And its claws. The hunger wafted from it. When released, it would be a viper, striking with inhuman speed and ferocity, seeking a prey to play with and feed on. Always cruel and always sadistic, they were the cat to humanity's mice.
Except that Armande was the tiger. He felt the weight of the telescoping blade on his hip. What might happen next would be fast. And yet, he couldn't help but watch Patricus for his reaction.
Both of them together looked at the Oni. He felt the lack of appreciation and yet...he sensed the drawing within of the other man. His lips moved almost imperceptibly. What he was saying was too faint to hear. Fascinated, Armande watched, the man's eyes seeming to go somewhere else, looking through the Oni.
In moments he seemed to return. Armande's lips quirked. The man was trying too hard. "The balance will come, Holy Father. A role can sometimes be like a tight pair of clothes. The man inside must be able to move about freely."
He looked at the Oni and curiously felt nothing. He had killed it, of course. The fight had been fierce. He remembered, and yet...the thrill and fear was gone. He looked at the claws, touched them. "He took a good swipe at me. We are fortunate to have anti-biotics. In the old days, such wounds killed." He pulled his robe back to expose his chest, pinkish white marks that matched the width of the claws. Other scars criss crossed his skin- a lifetime of battles playing across his body- but this was the deepest. "And yet...here, seeing it, I feel nothing." He gave Patricus a knowing look. "Emotion teaches the deepest lessons."
With that he turned, a signal to the guards that they should leave, before he headed further down. The final piece. The heavy wooden door was balanced and oiled and silently swung open.
A light switch was flicked. Armande watched Patricus curiously. The creature was bound to a chair by hands and feet. A sturdy one, of course. Dreyken were deceptively strong. Pale skin, almost translucent, black eyes above sharp cheek bones, long black hair flowing over narrow shoulders, it might have been mistaken for human. Many had made that error, to their painful regret.
It was the eyes that gave it away. And the teeth. And its claws. The hunger wafted from it. When released, it would be a viper, striking with inhuman speed and ferocity, seeking a prey to play with and feed on. Always cruel and always sadistic, they were the cat to humanity's mice.
Except that Armande was the tiger. He felt the weight of the telescoping blade on his hip. What might happen next would be fast. And yet, he couldn't help but watch Patricus for his reaction.