Scribbles and Drabbles

Notebook Drabble 10

Owning souls was a delicate balance. Feeding from their life-force, their essence even more so. It was too easy to destroy a soul. Too tempting to rip a blazing flame to pieces and pass the point of no return before the delicious burn of passion vanished into the night. There was only so much a soul could take. Every now and again, there were one or two who braved it all, but everyone had their breaking point.

Anger was normal. A fight to be free. Curses and promises never to be truly theirs. In a fashion it was true. When a soul broke, could it ever truly be considered the person's sanity anymore? Fear was a natural part of the process. After anger it was intoxicating. At the beginning, before a fight had occurred, it was normal.

Right now, it was pitiful.

"This is rather early," Pace frowned, hunkering down on and leaning on his knees as he studied the creature in front of him. Terrified little thing, beautiful but Pace preferred them so. It would be so tempting to raise up and loom over the man, but it was unfair when he was in this state. "I hadn't got passed stage one yet," he scolded, not missing how the implication sent trembling through the body.

"Stage one?" A broken whisper escaped, eyes wide as horror overwhelmed the shaking mess.

"Breathe, little one," Pace said, relaxing down and sitting crossed legged. "You need to breathe. Copy me." He made his breathing louder, more obvious. There was a rush of warmth as the young man copied him. A touch of something in his eyes. If Pace stopped, so would he. A little concerning, all in all. Pace shifted forward, unsurprised as the man backed into his little corner more. Pace tutted disapprovingly. Eyes moved to the ground, the breathing faltered but settled.

Pace paced his hands on the young man's knees and rubbed circles. He leaned in, pressing against the young man's side. Letting the illusion of freedom to the other reassure and steady the mess that was his current toy. Muscles tensed, a sob escaped the full lips.

"It's been a very long time since someone has got to this state so early into the game," Pace caught a hand and placed in on his chest. "You are utterly terrified, aren't you?"

"I heard the stories of what you've done to others who caught your eye,"

A whispered confession. Pace hummed, remembering the last few of this region he toyed with. A burn of red, a pitch of black, the endless war-cry of an animal desperate to escape the claws of its captor, it had been the soul of Aja. "This region produces some stubborn toys," Pace said, summoning a blanket and placing it over the two of them. "Aja turned himself into a challenge I could not ignore." And his people had paid dearly for the cost of it. It was so very rare Pace turned his anger on the people around his toys but really, when Aja had refused to submit and had hurt his other toys dearly, what else could Pace do? Allow the harm that had befallen his obedient toys? Punishment had been needed.

It explained the horror in this one's eyes.

The young man squeezed but didn't fight being tucked into the blanket. Pace ran a hand through his hair and studied him closer. His heart was calming. Pace didn't know if he was disappointed or not that the normal games could not occur.

"You're not going to fight me, are you?"

"Is that a good or a bad thing?"

Pace laughed, burying his face against the man and beaming. Good or bad, indeed. There was disappointment at the lack of a game. Anticipation for what would come instead. A possibility of something far sweet than a doll broken down. "It simply is. It won't save you from my games, but it will make it a lot easier on your people. For now, come. Give me your name."

"You don't know it?" the man sounded lost at that. Pace had wriggled his way into the man's being. Everywhere he had looked, Pace was. Taunting, chasing, claiming the mortal as his own.

"I know it, sweet." No, sweet didn't fit right in his mouth. Young one would grow weary, unless the man was far more naive than he first appeared. My dear, had insulting connotations. Honey was wrong too. So many pet names to try out on him. "But I do not own it. Give me your name, and I'll be kind."

"You can be kind?"

"Oh, maybe sweetie does suit you," Pace purred. There was nothing insulting in the man's tone. Not to Pace's decision. "Of course I can be kind. I understand some of what makes humans act the way they do. Mostly."