Introduction

~Introduction~



It was an unnverving thing, the ticking of the clock, which became moreso when one took into account the almost-silence of the study. It was as though the lack of other sounds amplified the soft click into an overwhelmingly percussive thunk, which it very well may have been in Eoin's mind. He was rather focused on the book, a journal, between his elbows, which had come to rest upon the desk before him, and this focus was perhaps the cause of the simplistic sound creating a rhythmic decline in concentration.

A knock at the door, gentle but insistent, was enough to rouse Eoin from his investigation.

"Come," he said simply, and the door's latch popped, allowing it to sway open.

Eoin did not bother to raise his head. Firstly, he paused his reading and directed his focus toward the visitor. Visitor? No. Intruder. That was what he sensed. A quick glance, dare he risk it, would have revealed nothing. Eoin knew this. There was a cloud of sorts, a darkness about the thing, clinging close to it yet still hovering in the air.

"What do you want?" A simple question.

"You know well." A simple answer.

The voice was masculine, though Eoin could not say for certain that it came from a male, and the statement caught him slightly off-guard. Did he know? Certainly not, as he was expecting no visitors and had not seen, heard or felt a breach of the estate's grounds. And yet... here it was, a breach, standing but meters from him.

"If I knew, would I have asked?"

If the intruder could be seen, it would have smirked, though it knew better. It took a silent step forward, as if daring Eoin to look. He sensed it doing so, and did exactly as it wished; his head snapped upward. What he saw, however, was empty space and an open door. He immediately rose, kicking aside his chair and backing the several feet between himself and the rear bookshelf. His right hand dropped to his hip, not finding the pistol he had expected. His left hand followed suit, and fell upon... no blade? Eoin silently cursed himself for relaxing to the point of disarming, and opened his mouth to speak, though he was interrupted.

"You're a pretentious little thing, aren't you? Speaking in such a tone, and to me no less."

You...? thought Eoin. He couldn't remember the last time he had willingly associated with someone with such a dark aura, though he knew his father had kept strange company. Perhaps it was a friend of... then, it dawned upon him. No. The dark aura was common enough among various creatures, but there was one creature, one species in particular that was known for its masking cloud, its need to stay out of light – the sun especially – and its ability to move far too quickly for a human to catch.

"Mordecai."

"How long has it been, Eoin?" The question caused the boy to genuinely think, and it stung, not something he was used to. Why did it sting?

"You truly are adorable when you're frightened."

That's why it stung. Luckily for Eoin, the light cast by his desk lamp was not enough to reveal the pinkish hue that had taken to his cheeks. It had indeed been a long while. Six years, roughly, and they were years spent desperately trying to bury...

"And when you're lost in thought," Mordecai continued.

"... bury you" were the words that left Eoin's mouth, halfway through the other's statement, and after they had slipped he snapped his jaw shut, cheeks flushing brighter. Mordecai could certainly see this, though, as he laughed a laugh that was more full of humor than one would expect from anyone, let alone this creature.

"You could bury me if you truly chose to do so, Eoin. We both know that. But then," added the voice from beyond sight, "you would already have done so if that is what you desired."

"Do not pretend to know what I desire," began Eoin, but he was quickly cut off by a sharp click that he knew well to mean the other was about to contradict him.

"I need not pretend, another thing we both know. But I wonder, will you listen?"

"Listen to you? About what? You want me to listen to someone that chose to invade my home and mock me? Listen to someone who left me alone when I most needed him? No, I don't think-"

As suddenly as the click had cut off his previous attempt at communication, so was he again interrupted. Mordecai revealed himself, stepping from the shadows just long enough for Eoin to see his face; it was what most would have seen as a lack of emotion. Eoin recognized it as anger, and just as he identified this anger he felt the breath pushed from his lungs, his back slam an inch or so into the bookshelf behind him, and an icy palm upon his throat. He tried to swallow, tried to breathe, but his attempts were made futile by the the digits wrapped around his neck, which were applying enough pressure to stall his breath but not to cause damage. At least, nothing permanent.

Eoin felt a presence in his mind, and it was certainly not attempting to mask itself. He identified it as Mordecai's as a rush of sensation hit him, and his vision went dark. He could not differentiate between the images and feelings he was receiving or determine their purpose, he could only sense that they were of some importance to the creature from which they were being transferred. There was a pop in his ears and a sharp pain shot through his head, as if there were needles being pressed through his eyes. He cried out, or tried to; no sound was made as the other's grasp tightened. The pain intensified briefly before, suddenly, there was silence.

Eoin collapsed, gasping for a breath as he hit the floor. His eyes struggled to focus, and as air rushed into his lungs he expelled it in a shout, equally of pain and surprise. Field of view regaining sharpness, he tried for a glance around, only to find that his study was as empty as it had been when he was reading.

Another knock at the door, this one with a feeling of urgency. A decidedly female voice chimed, "Eoin?"

The boy groaned, his head rolled to the side, and he lost consciousness.