...
Anonymous takes more distance away from them and, well, Stephan is far more receptive to these types of situations while Only would consider himself to be intolerant of them. He welcomes it - there is something to be wary of even a rail-thin creature like the akal teke even if he appears even tempered and too weak to even eat. It doesn't matter, Stephan is learning, it doesn't matter what condition his body is in so long as he can do what Anonymous does with his mind. Not even Only could stop him then. He'll say what he can say and he will do what he can do if it means he will get the answers he is looking for.
They play a dangerous game with each other - Anonymous has no idea what kinds of doors he unlocks for Stephan and - in turn - Stephan doubts that Anonymous is bluffing with his knives - he hopes he isn't.
Do it, his indulgent nature beckons Anonymous to finish him off with the way he leans into the knife. His eyes are as alive as they are dead and, quite toxic - terribly toxic. Inside of the absinthe green of them there are so many souls lost to Stephan, they live with him always. The way he plays with the mercenary's blades suggest he is keen to join them.
He isn't even sorry he killed them.
He'll remember their names forever.
Francine Gormley. Keven Willows. Mr. Kirschenbaum down at Duke's (not his son, of course).
A totem here,
A totem there,
Eye, tooth, ear ... ... quietly in this limited distance he scrutinizes what he can of Anonymous and considers what part of him he'd take for himself.
What will he keep? What will he have of him so that Anonymous too will be swimming around in Stephan's eyes the way his precious collection of souls do.
Rebecca Chyu. Donna Rice. There are so many he could spend all night remembering them all.
Perhaps a lock of hair?
A claw off of his wings, even.
He looks up at it to consider it and that is all it takes - the knife flashes bright against his sight like sudden lightning, quick, and true in the night. It is a quick, effortless move. It stings but he welcomes it because his attention is drawn to the blade dancing effortlessly through the air as Anonymous manipulates it back into its sheath after cleaning it. His cheek throbs as the blood rushes to fill the even cut, it drips and drips and drips without ever stopping but Stephan can get past the constant nagging sensation of severed nerves. It isn't nearly as gruesome as it could get but there is no need to get completely ugly if he can drive it all into a different direction.
He
must learn this skill of Anon's.
He simply must.
The have collected at his feet unbeknownst to him, grass slither-slaps at his ankles in an uncanny way. He has cracked stalks of iris plants twisting them so hard in an invisible grip he didn't know he had but it is all for nothing - he remains unaware. Stephan and his desires to learn have manifested some level of potential but not enough. That, and he has nothing because that fool he travels with lives like a monk.
Damn him, Stephan wants to say out loud but doesn't - he isn't as stupid as he can be.
Anonymous draws even nearer and Stephan being as catty as he can be lifts his chin and tilts his own dainty face to the side so the man can get a better look at what he has done. It stings, Only won't be too happy when he discovers the fresh wound (yet another scar acquired while Stephan plays - what on
earth does he do? Only will wonder) - and Anonymous does not seem to be finished with him just yet.
Blood isn't enough - has it ever been?
Anonymous asks again,
Who are you?
"Who am I?" Stephan wants to laugh - he does laugh - and it is a sooty, cold chuckle that rattles in his lungs. He keeps laughing long before he intends to stop -
"Only.
It is Only, and you? Will you tell me yours?" - and he laughs some more after it has become inappropriate. He gives up his ghost (Only) because much later from now the joke will be on that bumbling idiot who thinks he can control both of their lives. His laughter is convincingly healthy as it dissolves behind a rather boyish grin, he's oddly comfortable after being assaulted. Maybe it is because he knows he'll most certainly return the favor when Anonymous least expects it.
For now he is positively foalish over the idea of magic, still standing in Anonymous' moonstruck shadow waiting to see something else incredulous happen.
.only
thief for hire
lesser telekinesis
There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
For many are called but few are chosen.
