12th of Cylus
Volker was settled into the back of his wagon. He didn't like inns, or what came of interacting with people. He was alone, and as far as he knew the only one of his kind. The only one with this sort of rotting madness in the back of his head. His father hadn't bothered to explain what it was, or how he came to have it...he'd simply done his duty to the Harvester and inducted Volker into it. He had very little knowledge of what he was, and he barely remembered his initiation. It seemed so far away now. For decades he'd treated the Harvester, called Oor, like an annoying parasite. A parasite that urged him to kill and visited him in dreams.
It was amazing to think how much of Volker's life had been utterly dominated by Oor. The reason he traveled so much with an animal who despised him, why he had no friends or family. He'd made honest attempts to settle down, court men and women in the past...it just never worked. The second they figured out what he was they either ran, or attempted to report him to the authorities. The latter usually involved the death of his prospective partner.
Volker sighed, curled up in the wagon. He'd stretched his tent over the top and along the sides inside of it, keeping away the snow and forming a strange, cramped cave. Thankfully, it was warm. He had his bedroll and a blanket, which was more than enough to keep him comfortable. Well, other than the strange position he found himself in. He watched the snow fall outside his little cave, his head tucked securely under the blanket. He couldn't sleep in the twilight. There was little other to do than think. Mostly about how lonely he was. He wanted to find someone of his own kind to talk with. At the very least, it would make living easier.
'Do you really have nothing better to do than moan about how alone you are?' Oor's voice was disappointed. 'Killers are rare. Killers who like other killers are even rarer. Best to just let go of that thought. Mates and children are not in your cards until I say they are. Even then, I usually keep people like your father away from their offspring. The temptation is too great.'
Volker snorted and turned his head to bury it a little more in his blanket. He really, really didn't want to have this discussion again.
'Fine, I'll drop it if you stop moping. You're hungry. The markets are closed at this hour, but that's never stopped either of us. People leave all sorts of things unattended. Besides, moving will make you warmer.'
Volker peeked a bit out from under the blanket at Oor. The shadowy creature was crouched in front of the entrance to his little wagon. Staring. He couldn't ever see the rest of Oor, but he knew his face very well. A blackened, withered corpse with no lips or eyes. His flesh always looked delicate and papery like it would crumble to the touch. A red light shone dully at the back of his throat when he spoke...other than that, anything Volker's eyes tried to focus on would dim and fade. Oor was right...he just didn't particularly want to unfold himself from the warm little prison he'd made. He grunted and pushed the blanket off his shoulders, undoing the tent-tarp above him and pushing it back. Snow cascaded down to either side of the wagon. He found his knives pushed into the back corner and strapped them to his thigh; he never left them anywhere but touching his person in some way or another. They were far too valuable.
'True, can't leave daddy behind now can we? He was a good host.' Oor said sardonically. 'About as humorless as you. Next time I'll find someone who knows what a joke is.'
Volker folded his bedroll up neatly and wrapped it in the tent, tucking it toward the back of the wagon and looking around. Humans were known for poor night vision, but Volker had always had a keen sense of smell. The snow washed away all the temporary scents of the day; humans and other races going about their lives. Sea air. Animals, old feces, fish, forges, and hearths. snow wasn't like rain, where everything was drowned in petrichor. It had an uncanny way of washing everything clean...except for what was currently in the area. He headed toward the docks. It would be coldest there, but it also had the promise of food.
It was amazing to think how much of Volker's life had been utterly dominated by Oor. The reason he traveled so much with an animal who despised him, why he had no friends or family. He'd made honest attempts to settle down, court men and women in the past...it just never worked. The second they figured out what he was they either ran, or attempted to report him to the authorities. The latter usually involved the death of his prospective partner.
Volker sighed, curled up in the wagon. He'd stretched his tent over the top and along the sides inside of it, keeping away the snow and forming a strange, cramped cave. Thankfully, it was warm. He had his bedroll and a blanket, which was more than enough to keep him comfortable. Well, other than the strange position he found himself in. He watched the snow fall outside his little cave, his head tucked securely under the blanket. He couldn't sleep in the twilight. There was little other to do than think. Mostly about how lonely he was. He wanted to find someone of his own kind to talk with. At the very least, it would make living easier.
'Do you really have nothing better to do than moan about how alone you are?' Oor's voice was disappointed. 'Killers are rare. Killers who like other killers are even rarer. Best to just let go of that thought. Mates and children are not in your cards until I say they are. Even then, I usually keep people like your father away from their offspring. The temptation is too great.'
Volker snorted and turned his head to bury it a little more in his blanket. He really, really didn't want to have this discussion again.
'Fine, I'll drop it if you stop moping. You're hungry. The markets are closed at this hour, but that's never stopped either of us. People leave all sorts of things unattended. Besides, moving will make you warmer.'
Volker peeked a bit out from under the blanket at Oor. The shadowy creature was crouched in front of the entrance to his little wagon. Staring. He couldn't ever see the rest of Oor, but he knew his face very well. A blackened, withered corpse with no lips or eyes. His flesh always looked delicate and papery like it would crumble to the touch. A red light shone dully at the back of his throat when he spoke...other than that, anything Volker's eyes tried to focus on would dim and fade. Oor was right...he just didn't particularly want to unfold himself from the warm little prison he'd made. He grunted and pushed the blanket off his shoulders, undoing the tent-tarp above him and pushing it back. Snow cascaded down to either side of the wagon. He found his knives pushed into the back corner and strapped them to his thigh; he never left them anywhere but touching his person in some way or another. They were far too valuable.
'True, can't leave daddy behind now can we? He was a good host.' Oor said sardonically. 'About as humorless as you. Next time I'll find someone who knows what a joke is.'
Volker folded his bedroll up neatly and wrapped it in the tent, tucking it toward the back of the wagon and looking around. Humans were known for poor night vision, but Volker had always had a keen sense of smell. The snow washed away all the temporary scents of the day; humans and other races going about their lives. Sea air. Animals, old feces, fish, forges, and hearths. snow wasn't like rain, where everything was drowned in petrichor. It had an uncanny way of washing everything clean...except for what was currently in the area. He headed toward the docks. It would be coldest there, but it also had the promise of food.
