But he cannot risk being so brazen, so crudely outed. It might earn him another lump or limp—such is the price of perfection, he supposes.

He would know.

“We need not stay together afterwards,” Dain amends quickly. “It would be only for the journey through to the other side, if you would have me.”

Three days.

Three days has he been stranded here, facing a dilemma that all but mirrors her own.

He could leave, if he wanted; some magical curse would do nothing to stop the Shadow Lord’s finest, perfect Ol. Why, the blasted thing may well have even been placed by the Master himself.

“Perhaps you might be open to venturing together through these woods? I would be no burden,” he assures, passing a hand over the hilt of his dagger as indication. “I am capable enough on my own, but this forest’s curse…”

He need not finish the statement. Plainly she knows it too.

“Forgive me. I could not help but overhear,” he says, straightening. “We both, it seems, have been marooned here. I am Dain.”

For the way he glances away at first, shy but sure, the coming question is obvious before he even says it. Clearly he is on the meeker side, but by no means helpless.

Still it seems he appears as if out of nowhere, or as though he had always been there—unassuming, politely timid, with his eyes shadowed beneath dark bangs.

He travels light it seems, with no more than a leather pack and dagger at his hip, a bow strapped to his back, fine boots, and a short cloak.

“I fear that may be so,” a quiet voice beside her says.

Bent partially to read the small stone tablet bearing the cautionary riddle for himself, a boy no older than his late teens stands. Certainly she would have heard his steps coming, no matter how naturally light they are for his slight frame.

// I’m adding “angry spitting kitten” to his list of vibes.

What is miserable is the failure only to have choked the breath from my enemy with my own hands, disgusting and human as they pretend to be.

That failure is my exile. This exile is my punishment. But it is not lonely. Such a human weakness, I do not possess.

… Indeed.

Better to remain only palatable enough that you are not discovered by those who would seek to harm you for it, is it not?

Better, I think, than losing yourself in so foolish a thing as human emotion.

Will you? You do not desire at all to blend in with the others?

// Dain isn’t evil (anymore) so much as he’s just the embodiment of “I’m just a little guy! You wouldn’t hit a little guy, would you?”. Professional ragebaiter

Surely there is no need for such hostility? Your words struck a chord, I admit. That is all.

Perish the thought! Perhaps your senses have begun to mislead you. An unfortunate consequence of age, I fear.

(Definitely not mad because he can relate.)

Noisy creatures.

“Rare are such things where I have travelled from. It would be considered a delicacy there, I think.”

of his own, that much is true.”

A glance, then, maybe finally recognising her struggles. Happy to leave the demanding topic behind, Dain pulls a small, clean rag from the pack buckled to his belt, and holds it out for her to take.

“This fruit you requested, is it quite valuable?” He ponders.

“He…” Dain trails off, as though deeply considering. So captured by his own thoughts is he that he hardly notices the display. Or perhaps it is that he simply doesn’t care or mind. Truthfully, the conversation alone is posing enough of a challenge to keep him occupied. “He has faced many adversities

“I fear I do not,” Dain confesses shakily. “In this land I am but a — tourist.”

That’s one way of putting it.

Meekly, his other hand joins Danny’s wrist to keep himself steady. “Now, would you mind putting me down? I would be happy to — to find a way to make up for the scare, if only you would.”

and makes to fish something from his back pocket—opposite, at least, to the dagger on his hip. From it he produces a reasonable paper bill belonging to the local currency. “You dropped this. I meant only to return it!”

Whether a lie or not, this is the act he has decided to go with.

It’s so unexpected, he’s only able to manage a strangled gasp. Instinctively, his hands are up in surrender, before the pressure on his throat prompts him to move at least one hand to the man’s wrist to better support himself.

“I — I was, I admit,” he sputters urgently,

“Oh, a pity.”

The voice comes from beside Angel, and as though he had been there all along, or perhaps just now walked up from behind, the boy is peering casually over the edge of the roof to watch the scene below.

“But you must admit, it 𝘪𝘴 a little funny. Maybe not for that poor speck, though.”

“Dain,” he manages at last. There is some baffled caution in his politeness, and he makes no attempt to hide his bewildered stare. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Dumbfounded, the boy who seems to blend in perfectly with the momentary dark, save for his pale complexion, stares for a moment. Instinctively having reached for an oil lantern at his feet where he sits at a small empty camp beneath a cliff overhang, the light returns too soon for it to even be lit.

// Essentially: shapeshifter made by an ancient evil, for the purposes of evil, therefore heavily prejudiced in this world.

There are different “grades” of Ols, and the one Dain is is considered perfected, but with the fatal flaw of being susceptible to real human emotion.

// Woke up and chose violence. I need a thread plot where someone’s seen a Wanted poster for this idiot and does something about it. or maybe realises he’s an Ol and understands the implications of that (scary evil enemy, probably)

Always the right general idea, but with one or two details out of place, the boy fits in as much as he stands out.

The same uneasy principle, it seems, can be applied to his mannerisms. He has been tailing Rand from a distance for one minute longer than what might have been comfortable for the man.

@manusdraconis.bsky.social

Late evening, and the sun is dipping low beneath the local skyline.

Such modern settings the Ol struggles to fit into, having traded his cloak for a worn T-shirt layered over a long-sleeved one—and a dagger, holstered where a mobile phone might be on the average teen.

// I don’t watch many shows/movies so I have basically zero context for the characters I interact with a vast majority of the time, but honestly going in blind is just part of the fun of it for me. Everyone may as well be an OC to me so I get to learn about your guys at the same time as my guys do

Only then does he distract from the hard conversation, setting the spoon down in exchange for twisting the cap off his purchased honey. Intent, it seems, on using it for spoonfuls of this, rather than the watermelon she has split.