The drunken Highlander had taken this route a thousand times. Up the street, around the corner, through the alley then right; a few doors down then he could stumble into his home for his wife to crack him over the head with a rolling pin. Even in an intoxicated stupor the routine had rendered his path almost automatic. The only thing that stayed his steps was the thought of that rolling pin. His wife was never at all gentle with it. On the bright side, if it was dusted with flour he knew that he could expect fresh bread and pastries the next morning to deal with the hangover.Â
As drunk as he was, the man instantly knew that something was wrong the moment he turned to stagger into the alley. It caused him to lurch to a stop and stare blearily. Usually, he could see through to the street on the other side. The street itself was badly lit, but there was always that sure slice of dim lamp post light to indicate where the alley opened up into the other road. Tonight, there was naught but blackness.Â
An ordinary darkness it was not; it came with a hint of foreboding and bore a certain heavy thickness to it that caused a sluggish apprehension within his bones. Perhaps he had enjoyed more alcohol tonight than he had during most, but this...this sheer black at the end of the dingy passageway...it was far from natural. It seemed as though the dirty walls and the rubbish-laden floor faded into nonexistence. Yet, that non-existence felt solid, as if...
...as if there was someone standing there.
The intoxicated Highlander clumsily reasoned that it could not be so -- never had there been anyone in his little path after his rounds at the bar. Perhaps his reasoning was fueled by a need to reduce the amount of rolling-pin blows he was due to receive, but he allowed himself to believe it and pushed into the alley at a tilting, bandy-legged hobble. Even as he proceeded a few fulms along the brick-bordered pass the darkness beyond did not lift. Sudden caution gripped him and he stopped dead, the contrived reasoning now quite inadequate for the purpose of moving on.
There was someone there. He felt it on his skin, in his nose, behind his eyes, and in his heartbeat.
The Highlander was smarter than that, even drunk off his toes. It was a dizzy spin, but he rotated at once to leave the alley back the way he came.Â
...But there was only darkness where the road had been. The beginnings of terror gripped him, cold and prehensile within his innards. Was this a drunken hallucination? If so, why did it all feel so menacing?
He realized his mistake the moment he had turned around. The hairs at the back of his neck tugged at the flesh and alarm klaxons went off in his head. If there was someone in that darkness behind him, the worst thing he could do was put his back to it. It was so that he spun around again to face the mysterious, invisible presence. Yet, it was no longer invisible.Â
Two golden eyes stared out at him, reflective, glittering and wide of pupil. He could see no whites; they looked simply like two shiny rings that fixated upon his very being. Had the alcohol in his blood not dulled his reflexes, the man would have perhaps jumped a fulm into the air. Instead, all he managed was a sluggish, incomplete step backward.
Below the eyes a white, horizontal split opened, revealing teeth which a wide grin arranged itself around. It was a man's mouth, clearly -- not a beast's. The teeth were neither sharp nor jagged, neither was the pink tongue forked. Just a normal mouth. Still, it elicited another step backward.Â
"Don't go."
It spoke -- he spoke. The voice was a rumbling, gentle bass through which each word was enunciated with crisp sophistication. It bore a terrible yet seductive quality that confused his legs between flight and approachable intrigue. Unable to choose one or the other, they remained rooted on the spot.Â
Out of the darkness he emerged; it pulled away from him like a wet curtain. Dark of skin and grey of hair; his face was tattooed in a deep, matted ebony that gave his Roegadyn's countenance a fearsome finality. He bore a wicked, overjoyed grin, as the pupils within the gold shrank to pinpricks. The Highlander was certain by all means that death had come, and he was too damned drunk to do a thing about it.
"You will do," He assessed, "You will do nicely."
As drunk as he was, the man instantly knew that something was wrong the moment he turned to stagger into the alley. It caused him to lurch to a stop and stare blearily. Usually, he could see through to the street on the other side. The street itself was badly lit, but there was always that sure slice of dim lamp post light to indicate where the alley opened up into the other road. Tonight, there was naught but blackness.Â
An ordinary darkness it was not; it came with a hint of foreboding and bore a certain heavy thickness to it that caused a sluggish apprehension within his bones. Perhaps he had enjoyed more alcohol tonight than he had during most, but this...this sheer black at the end of the dingy passageway...it was far from natural. It seemed as though the dirty walls and the rubbish-laden floor faded into nonexistence. Yet, that non-existence felt solid, as if...
...as if there was someone standing there.
The intoxicated Highlander clumsily reasoned that it could not be so -- never had there been anyone in his little path after his rounds at the bar. Perhaps his reasoning was fueled by a need to reduce the amount of rolling-pin blows he was due to receive, but he allowed himself to believe it and pushed into the alley at a tilting, bandy-legged hobble. Even as he proceeded a few fulms along the brick-bordered pass the darkness beyond did not lift. Sudden caution gripped him and he stopped dead, the contrived reasoning now quite inadequate for the purpose of moving on.
There was someone there. He felt it on his skin, in his nose, behind his eyes, and in his heartbeat.
The Highlander was smarter than that, even drunk off his toes. It was a dizzy spin, but he rotated at once to leave the alley back the way he came.Â
...But there was only darkness where the road had been. The beginnings of terror gripped him, cold and prehensile within his innards. Was this a drunken hallucination? If so, why did it all feel so menacing?
He realized his mistake the moment he had turned around. The hairs at the back of his neck tugged at the flesh and alarm klaxons went off in his head. If there was someone in that darkness behind him, the worst thing he could do was put his back to it. It was so that he spun around again to face the mysterious, invisible presence. Yet, it was no longer invisible.Â
Two golden eyes stared out at him, reflective, glittering and wide of pupil. He could see no whites; they looked simply like two shiny rings that fixated upon his very being. Had the alcohol in his blood not dulled his reflexes, the man would have perhaps jumped a fulm into the air. Instead, all he managed was a sluggish, incomplete step backward.
Below the eyes a white, horizontal split opened, revealing teeth which a wide grin arranged itself around. It was a man's mouth, clearly -- not a beast's. The teeth were neither sharp nor jagged, neither was the pink tongue forked. Just a normal mouth. Still, it elicited another step backward.Â
"Don't go."
It spoke -- he spoke. The voice was a rumbling, gentle bass through which each word was enunciated with crisp sophistication. It bore a terrible yet seductive quality that confused his legs between flight and approachable intrigue. Unable to choose one or the other, they remained rooted on the spot.Â
Out of the darkness he emerged; it pulled away from him like a wet curtain. Dark of skin and grey of hair; his face was tattooed in a deep, matted ebony that gave his Roegadyn's countenance a fearsome finality. He bore a wicked, overjoyed grin, as the pupils within the gold shrank to pinpricks. The Highlander was certain by all means that death had come, and he was too damned drunk to do a thing about it.
"You will do," He assessed, "You will do nicely."
![[Image: tumblr_ojgu7zoaag1robwlio1_540.png]](https://68.media.tumblr.com/80be4033cdf57fb6268473ef9ce37db6/tumblr_ojgu7zoaag1robwlio1_540.png)
