Monday, July 25, 2016

"Th' name's Deacon. What's it to ya?"

"Th' name's Deacon. What's it to ya?" the mountain-of-a-man turned as he grumbled, a look of irritation on his face.

There was something else there, something other than the petulance at being bothered after a long day's watch. Sadness, perhaps. The vampir opened herself up to the damnable thing that stirred within her. Idzi needed no prompting. The horrid thing came screaming and clawing its way up out of its hunger-lined pit. Roksana used the thing's power and drew in a deep breath and even beyond the filth, refuse, offal, and stench of close-air and unwashed bodies, she could detect the delicious aroma of this man's sadness. To her, it was her very life. So, sadness it was; of this, Roksana was now certain. Steeling her will and muttering a prayer to the Christ, she spiritually threw the demon back into a cage inside her and continued. "I was told I would find you here," she said.

"Yeah? An' who told ya that?" Deacon cocked his shaggy brown head and looked off to one side, as if someone else was speaking to him. He raised a ham-sized fist toward Roksana and one finger as thick as an axe handle appeared. The pale, waif-like woman held her tongue and waited. She'd been told that he would be like this. The man nodded his massive, block-like head slowly and furrowed his brow a bit. The hand lowered, and he indicated that she should continue.

"He said you would not know him by name, but that you would recognize him," she said, licking rose petal lips nervously.

"And?" Deacon said, his patience quickly expiring.

"Slightly taller than average, somewhat thin and bookish. Bald and very pale of skin," Roksana pointed her shapely chin toward Deacon and made a pulling motion with her fingers as she continued speaking. "A longish chin-beard, dark like old charcoal but with two silver streaks. He wears a grey monk's robe, woolen, with a hood and-"

"And odd silver and black eyes like none ya've ever seen," Deacon finished. He again looked to the side and nodded. "Yea, Cleatus, it's him." The massive man then looked to Roksana. "And I know his name, now - he's called Tenet, and he's generally a large pain in the arse. What does he want now?"

A smile crept into Roksana's dark grey eyes, but she stoically kept it from her lips. "He wants you to train me and says that in return, I might be able to help you..."

Deacon walked away, cursing out loud. Roksana was not sure if it was to himself, or to the other--Cleatus--that he'd just mentioned. She wondered briefly if Deacon also battled against his own personal, internal demons.

The giant-of-a-man got to the end of the alley and turned back to her and shouted. "Well, ya comin' or ain't ya?" He didn't wait for her to reply, just stumped away, cursing.

Art Source: "Mercenary For Hire" (c)/by Njay
Story and Characters: (c)/by Brannon Hollingsworth

#MMWW, #Makes, #Me, #Wanna, #Write, #BrannonHollingsworth, #Tenet, #TenetTales, #Sectof7, #Roksana, #Deacon, #Cleatus


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