A Lesson in Aristocracy

XXIV - Empty

He stared at the sky, watching the little lights twinkle back at him. Stars, he recalled, they're called stars.

I hate stars.

He growled in his throat, running his fingers through his hair. They didn't get very far before they caught on another clump of knots.

"Stupid, hah! Stupid." He began to pace in a circle, flaring his wings before his eyes darted to the old, heavy iron door. Something's coming.

He stiffened, his head lulling to one side. The man always watched him when he sent a gift.  But there was no man. So was this even a gift?

The door creaked open. He couldn't see inside; normally, gifts came during the day, when plenty of light would filter in to the little alcove.

"Lynwyn."

He began to smile at the name, drawing close to the room. The man - there was the man! He was the gift.

He reached the room, standing to his full height. He was taller than the man, but still the man's hand leapt upwards, grabbing the metal collar that encircled his neck. Fingers dug uncomfortably into his skin, causing him to yelp lightly as the man dragged him down. They were face to face, the expression of anger on the man's face causing him nearly as much pain as the collar.

"Are you incapable of listening, Lynwyn? Do you not remember our rules?"

"R...rules?" He wheezed out, tugging against the man's grip.

"Stupid cur." The man spat, throwing him to the ground before kicking him in the gut. He reeled, his eyes going wide.

"Rule one: you are never to set foot outside of these walls." The man outstretched his arms.

Kick.

"Rule two: you are never to reject a gift."

"I didn't! I didn't reject-"

Kick.

"Rule five: you aren't to speak in my presence, unless first spoken to, and you shall never speak over me!" He screamed, kicking him even harder. He closed his eyes tightly, the man's words melting into nothing in his ears.

The kicking and yelling continued for some time, with his arms wrapped around his head to protect it. His abdomen ached horribly, and his own spit had gathered around his face.

"Pathetic."

He opened his eyes at the word, shakily allowing his gaze to rise to meet the man's. A boot was then shoved into his jaw, forcing his head back down.

"Don't look at me." The man said in disgust. He closed his eyes again, a small whimper escaping his throat.

"Do you think you're too good for this place? For my gifts? Speak."

"N-no! No!"

The man hummed, pressing his face further into the ground.

"Really? I'm not convinced. Maybe you'd like that fellow - what was his name? - Xym! Maybe you'd like Xym to come and show you how lucky you are? I remember you crying for him when I first brought you here. Maybe you'd like to see him once more?"

"No, please," he whispered.

"Then you'd do well to show a little appreciation. If you pull something like that again, I'll have 'Xym' pay you a little visit."

The man removed his boot from his face, turning away from him.

"My gift's run off, because of you."