Find Purpose
Clarice Michelle Pierce, my former fiance, was now a Stark. Whatever.
My mutant friend, turned brother, turned human is still living in Gothic. I gotta fix that.
The Republic of Venezuela, a country I once lead, no longer accepts my entrance. I mean I can't blame them. Sorta wrecked everything. Might of killed a few peeps. Shiho...wants me dead on sight. Eh.
Then there's Shinigami, who's been wanting me to do his bidding. What do I have to say about that?
"Not anymore." His nonchalance is almost uncanny, an ode to his previous self, a no nonsense elitist who didn't give a crap about anyone other than himself. However, the yellow eyed, Givenchy wearing, lover of modern arts, sarcastically inclined metro-sexual did care. Maybe he cared too much, but as of late the continuously content lad learned how to present an undeniable apathy whenever conversing with the metaphysical creature that's troubled him for nearly a decade.
"I've done my part. Now you can go." His jaw clenched as the veins beneath his flesh became inflamed. There's a momentary lapse of silence that encompassed his newly purchased, London located loft as the energies of the devil's favorite demon shot through is bloodstream.
"Especially...since...I can't....do anything!" He shouted at nothingness, at least to the eye of any neighbor whom decided to nosily peer through their window and his. To their surprise they'd certainly see a dashingly dressed tourist profusely bleeding from his left ear, whilst rising from his stationary position on an expensively purchased couch.
"I can't do anything!" He pulled at his carefully molded hair, understandably stressed out by the irritating mental interference caused by the demon's abruptly made appearance.
"No, you don't get to do this. You don't! You've got Clarice. You've got her in the palm of your hands." His teeth grind as the memories of his pains caused by she who shan't be touched returned.
"So, what else can I possibly do for you?" His eyes water as gravity is pressed onto his shoulders, pushing him onto his knees, and helpless to the grip of Shinigami. "That's all I gotta do...and then I'm free?" An uncharacteristic chuckle escaped his throat, not elicited through amusement but an accidental display of joy due to the thought of being freed from these metaphysical restraints. His smile, although crazed and deranged, was understandable considering the travesties he's been dealt since the age of seventeen.
Next: The Son of Arcani & The Emerald Archer
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