DEVIANCE
Eighteenth of December | Early Morning
Clouds congregated overhead, gravitating into a massive pain in the butt with the ferocity and determination of ants returning to the depths of their sandy hills. The sun struggled to burn through the slithers of hollow sky, wiggling its thin fingers through the vanishing gaps. Raindrops tumbled from the grey clouds to shatter on cement, plastic umbrellas, and groaning, nude heads. The air was stale with the scent of rain, damp clothing and irritated people. Gusts of wind caught the edges of newspapers and foolishly adorned short skirts, bringing with it the shivering cold and carrying with it smells of baking bread and rotting garbage.
A pair of emerald green eyes peered from an obscured face, hovering in the shadows like two orbs of crystal light suspended in ink. The figure shifted and a stream of soft, golden light caught a lock of glistening pink hair, fierce green eyes, ivory skin, crimson lips and the edge of a wicked knife. The girl was perched one of the many ledges that surrounded each floor of the towering brick structure, a dangerous place to be during a storm as furious as this. A group of men raced past the stretched pavement below, cursing and yelling for Chaos to reveal herself and for one of them to find her. Their target was pressed to a wall facing a gloomy alleyway, her face impassive and stance nonchalant, as if she did not have such a long way to plummet to her death. The men belonged to a rival circle Red Eclipse had "slightly" irritated. People were hurt - although it was mostly their pride that had been - but no one had died. They were overreacting.
"Why can't you see her?" demanded whom she assumed to be the oldest of their little hunting pack, a stern faced and carrot headed individual.
"How should I know?!" their Tracker replied in exasperation. Such mages were well in demand and she would admit she was mildly impressed they had one. Then again, if they were better at what they did, they would not need one. "Maybe it's a cloaking spell or something." Indeed it was. Pain Magic had many uses, in fact, it was a limitless power. You received as much as you were willing to sacrifice, as many people as you were willing to hurt and as much torture as you could tolerate. The price for her most recent request was written on her arms, overlapping the ever fading and growing bruises beneath. They were spread like purple-blue-green-black roses beneath her skin, ripples of paint and power hidden beneath her sleeves.
The leader of Red Eclipse, a circle renowned for their strength and brutality, inched her way downwards, tucking her fingers between the grooves of the wall. Her toes grasped a fading brick and sputters of a crumbling structure clattered to the floor still a distance away. She remained still. The roaring thunder veiled her mistake and she remained undiscovered. Finally, she reached the last floors and dropped into a quiet roll. Unfortunately, she'd been seen.
"There!" a boy yelled.
"Get her!" Carrot replied.
Her feet kicked up spittles of rain as she raced across blocks and darted around bends. She whizzed between the people but heard the commotion behind her as her pursuers shoved bodies aside to make way. She lost them for a brief moment as she dived into a park overflowing with trees. Each stride grew shorter as her bones shrunk, becoming more soft and malleable. Her hair bled into a more vivid pink as her clothes seemed to loosen around her. She disappeared into the mess of trees and halted.
"Took you long enough, Princess," came a familiar, low voice.
"Well I didn't see you at my aid. What kind of guardian are you?" she questioned hotly, her high, tinkling voice betraying any hopes of intimidating the 6'1" man before her. The young woman, now shrunk to a little girl, fixed her large, emerald glare at her Guardian. She crossed her arms over her chest, stopping her blouse from slipping entirely from her body. Iris gripped the edge of her pants with one hand, trying to preserve whatever dignity she had left. Age manipulation was useful but utterly humiliating and degrading. Many a time had she been spoken too as if she were merely eight years old instead of eighteen, which was what she required, but loathed all the same.
"There, there. No need to throw a hissy fit now," Kratos teased with a laugh that might've been instrumental in desecrating the hearts of thousands of women in this realm and others, but not the one he'd pledged himself to. He dropped to one knee in front of her and tugged at her oversized garments.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" a young Iris demanded, shuffling back with her arms tightly crossed over her body.
"Helping you undress," Kratos replied, batting his eyes in feigned innocence.
"Not even in your dreams, creep," Iris said with a delicate, high pitched snort that might've belonged to a newborn piglet. Kratos laughed as she snatched her clothes from his arms. "Turn around," she commanded. Kratos rolled his eyes, releasing a long, long sigh as if she were the greatest obstacle to his happiness, but turning around as asked. He pressed his hands over his eyes dramatically and counted down from a hundred. Oh what trouble, his body said. "Done," Iris announced before he reached the number eighty. Kratos spun around and peeked through the gaps between his fingers, mocking her or humouring her... Probably the former.
"Oh, my god," Kratos gasped. He'd adopted much of contemporary human speech which he seemed to find rather amusing. Whatever, Iris thought. He was a little girl trapped in a large man's body and about as easy to entertain as a dog with a chewy toy. "You look adorable!" He grasped her small body and shoved her soft cheeks against his own, purring like the cat spirit he was. "You are simply stunning, my sweet. Stunning. Look at you with your cute little butt and- Ow!" He rubbed his sore head where Iris had slapped him. "Still cute." He broke into a charming grin that revealed a dimple in his left cheek. Iris wore a long sleeved ocean blue dress with lace covered sleeves and a hideous bow at the back. The costume was ridiculous but everybody else in this world was stupid, so for Iris to pretend to be another person, she had to act and look stupid too.
"Now turn into an inanimate object, you annoying twat," she told him.
"Such foul language from such a small, sweet-looking girl," Kratos chastised.
Rain trickled down wet strands of pink hair and gathered at the tips of the girl's blue fingers before shattering on the toes of her red ballet flats. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her small, hunched body as she clutched a soaked white toy in the shape of a cat. She knelt beside the gates of the Academy, shivering and frozen through, the beat of her chattering teeth following that of her trembling body. She was frail, not older than eight and seemingly lost. Raindrops dived along the arch of her curled lashes, green from the reflection of her emerald eyes.
Eighteenth of December | Early Morning
Clouds congregated overhead, gravitating into a massive pain in the butt with the ferocity and determination of ants returning to the depths of their sandy hills. The sun struggled to burn through the slithers of hollow sky, wiggling its thin fingers through the vanishing gaps. Raindrops tumbled from the grey clouds to shatter on cement, plastic umbrellas, and groaning, nude heads. The air was stale with the scent of rain, damp clothing and irritated people. Gusts of wind caught the edges of newspapers and foolishly adorned short skirts, bringing with it the shivering cold and carrying with it smells of baking bread and rotting garbage.
A pair of emerald green eyes peered from an obscured face, hovering in the shadows like two orbs of crystal light suspended in ink. The figure shifted and a stream of soft, golden light caught a lock of glistening pink hair, fierce green eyes, ivory skin, crimson lips and the edge of a wicked knife. The girl was perched one of the many ledges that surrounded each floor of the towering brick structure, a dangerous place to be during a storm as furious as this. A group of men raced past the stretched pavement below, cursing and yelling for Chaos to reveal herself and for one of them to find her. Their target was pressed to a wall facing a gloomy alleyway, her face impassive and stance nonchalant, as if she did not have such a long way to plummet to her death. The men belonged to a rival circle Red Eclipse had "slightly" irritated. People were hurt - although it was mostly their pride that had been - but no one had died. They were overreacting.
"Why can't you see her?" demanded whom she assumed to be the oldest of their little hunting pack, a stern faced and carrot headed individual.
"How should I know?!" their Tracker replied in exasperation. Such mages were well in demand and she would admit she was mildly impressed they had one. Then again, if they were better at what they did, they would not need one. "Maybe it's a cloaking spell or something." Indeed it was. Pain Magic had many uses, in fact, it was a limitless power. You received as much as you were willing to sacrifice, as many people as you were willing to hurt and as much torture as you could tolerate. The price for her most recent request was written on her arms, overlapping the ever fading and growing bruises beneath. They were spread like purple-blue-green-black roses beneath her skin, ripples of paint and power hidden beneath her sleeves.
The leader of Red Eclipse, a circle renowned for their strength and brutality, inched her way downwards, tucking her fingers between the grooves of the wall. Her toes grasped a fading brick and sputters of a crumbling structure clattered to the floor still a distance away. She remained still. The roaring thunder veiled her mistake and she remained undiscovered. Finally, she reached the last floors and dropped into a quiet roll. Unfortunately, she'd been seen.
"There!" a boy yelled.
"Get her!" Carrot replied.
Her feet kicked up spittles of rain as she raced across blocks and darted around bends. She whizzed between the people but heard the commotion behind her as her pursuers shoved bodies aside to make way. She lost them for a brief moment as she dived into a park overflowing with trees. Each stride grew shorter as her bones shrunk, becoming more soft and malleable. Her hair bled into a more vivid pink as her clothes seemed to loosen around her. She disappeared into the mess of trees and halted.
"Took you long enough, Princess," came a familiar, low voice.
"Well I didn't see you at my aid. What kind of guardian are you?" she questioned hotly, her high, tinkling voice betraying any hopes of intimidating the 6'1" man before her. The young woman, now shrunk to a little girl, fixed her large, emerald glare at her Guardian. She crossed her arms over her chest, stopping her blouse from slipping entirely from her body. Iris gripped the edge of her pants with one hand, trying to preserve whatever dignity she had left. Age manipulation was useful but utterly humiliating and degrading. Many a time had she been spoken too as if she were merely eight years old instead of eighteen, which was what she required, but loathed all the same.
"There, there. No need to throw a hissy fit now," Kratos teased with a laugh that might've been instrumental in desecrating the hearts of thousands of women in this realm and others, but not the one he'd pledged himself to. He dropped to one knee in front of her and tugged at her oversized garments.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" a young Iris demanded, shuffling back with her arms tightly crossed over her body.
"Helping you undress," Kratos replied, batting his eyes in feigned innocence.
"Not even in your dreams, creep," Iris said with a delicate, high pitched snort that might've belonged to a newborn piglet. Kratos laughed as she snatched her clothes from his arms. "Turn around," she commanded. Kratos rolled his eyes, releasing a long, long sigh as if she were the greatest obstacle to his happiness, but turning around as asked. He pressed his hands over his eyes dramatically and counted down from a hundred. Oh what trouble, his body said. "Done," Iris announced before he reached the number eighty. Kratos spun around and peeked through the gaps between his fingers, mocking her or humouring her... Probably the former.
"Oh, my god," Kratos gasped. He'd adopted much of contemporary human speech which he seemed to find rather amusing. Whatever, Iris thought. He was a little girl trapped in a large man's body and about as easy to entertain as a dog with a chewy toy. "You look adorable!" He grasped her small body and shoved her soft cheeks against his own, purring like the cat spirit he was. "You are simply stunning, my sweet. Stunning. Look at you with your cute little butt and- Ow!" He rubbed his sore head where Iris had slapped him. "Still cute." He broke into a charming grin that revealed a dimple in his left cheek. Iris wore a long sleeved ocean blue dress with lace covered sleeves and a hideous bow at the back. The costume was ridiculous but everybody else in this world was stupid, so for Iris to pretend to be another person, she had to act and look stupid too.
"Now turn into an inanimate object, you annoying twat," she told him.
"Such foul language from such a small, sweet-looking girl," Kratos chastised.
Rain trickled down wet strands of pink hair and gathered at the tips of the girl's blue fingers before shattering on the toes of her red ballet flats. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her small, hunched body as she clutched a soaked white toy in the shape of a cat. She knelt beside the gates of the Academy, shivering and frozen through, the beat of her chattering teeth following that of her trembling body. She was frail, not older than eight and seemingly lost. Raindrops dived along the arch of her curled lashes, green from the reflection of her emerald eyes.