A little rat in a maze(Closed for now)

What a horrid day. Dozens of wine cups and glass beer bottles scattered across the tavern floor, filling the warm room with the smell of a zesty yeast. While most of his comrades were avid drinkers, it was hard to believe even alcoholics were this messy. So, sourly, a pale-faced Ahote prowled his way down dark corridors in search of the absent hooligans with topaz pools burning peevishly.

With a puckered forehead and scrunched eyebrows, Ahote crowed, "Iris! Aeluri! Come out, you two! I'm not an idiot, I know it's one of you if not both of you that did it!" his voice overbearing and dripping with ire, he marched down the corridor irritably. There was not one door or window he hadn't pried open with shiny and fleshed digits. Mahogany doors flung open, dusty windows whistled in the wind of his movements, the fortress became one big hide-n-seek playground. That was until one door has swung open, but he'd hear the tapping of feet in the same corridor of himself. Another person?

"Alright you two, come on ou-. . ." he paused, topaz orbs catching sight of the scrawny gremlin who had taken something too precious from his tawny companion, Theo, just as he spoke into the empty space. A countenance that was previously sour became wrathful, eyes bitter and sharp. His lips twisting into a frown at the sight of the child, Ahote stepped into the out into the corridor once again, gently closing the door behind him. The clicking sound of the wood against its metal hinges became a piercing noise among the silent two, along with their uneven breaths. Together, they shared the dark hallway with only the small windows to admire them. He shuffled closer to her, "Hey there, kid." he started quietly, sharply, "The two fools gave you an entire room to yourself? Whatever happened to the kennel?"

Ahote's wolfish frown ascended to a quizzical smile as the petite girl spoke. Her voice was quiet and heavy with tension. She had almost reminded him of himself when he was just a boy in these very halls. The thought made his flesh boil and eyes wet, glimmering with petulance. Her innocence was aggravating, and her quickness to submit was pathetic. Even the weakest of a wolf could frighten her so briskly that a tail tucking between her legs would be almost instantaneous, and maybe even a puddle of piss would follow just behind. It was annoying.

Ahote paced closer to her, his raven locks casting a dim veil of darkness over his burning, topaz eyes, like gems surrounded in mud and stone, shining in the sunlight. The wry look that glimmered over them stared at her like some strange, gross bug. He itched to grab it, but unwilling to crush it by a force charged with curiosity. So, his itching fingers stuffed themselves into his tight pants' pockets and continued to beam at her. "You just got it, huh?" he had finally closed in on her, only a breath away from her face. Ahote crouched down, his toes hugging the floor and his weight all on his ankles as he could finally see her from her level. He leaned in closely, "I don't know what you've been told up until now, but who do you think runs this place, kid? Here, I'll give you a hint," his smile disappeared, returning to his wolfish frown, eyes wide and sparkling, "It isn't Ambrosia or Veronika." he spoke in a hushed voice, his warm breaths kissing her ear as he mumbled.

Oh, the stuttering, it was so annoying! The way she spoke, the smell of her breaths and the words that danced off of them! The way her voice flexed anxiously and how she so obviously looked about the space in search ways to escape his fury, it filled him with both vigor and rage. "Stop stuttering," he thought! Would she stop before his fingers did? They itched restlessly in his pockets.

Yet, while the inscrutable ire plastered over his complexion like a dried mask of glue over fingers, it had all washed away under waves of astonishment and clarity as the petite girl pleaded her innocence, or, rather justified her sins. He smiled, no, he grinned again. A grin so wide and cheeky that it stretched from ear to ear, his cheerless eyes drooping with resolution. Ahote chuckled, "Ooh. . . they made you do it. Well, kid, why didn't you say so sooner?" his honeyed voice rose along with his head, his itching hand creeping from his pockets to his neck, then to her cheek until his metal fingers had caressed her tough skin within his own. He began to stroke her tenderly, "But you know what I hate more than little girls like you?" he queried. If the twinkle in his eyes was a kind one, those who gazed into them with such thoughts were hopelessly incorrect as his grip on her cheek tightened, releasing her skin so that his metal hand would toss itself to her head, digits digging deep into her scalp as it swallowed and a handful of her hair. His complexion dejected again to an expression far more perturbed than before, eyes twitching with a crazed irritation, "Snitches." he hissed, venom dripping from his tongue.

The raven-haired man rose from his leveled crouch, standing at the full six feet and some inches he had grown to, holding the girl by her threads just the same. He tossed her around in his own grip, unmoving, "I didn't see a gun to your head, or some magic strings making your every move. My guildmates didn't touch an inch of you as you stabbed and dug out his eye. How dare you slander them. . ." Ahote crowed, his grip tightening as his tossing and thrashing became more energetic, raising the girl from her feet to his own eye level, "I bet you were turned on as you watched his blood spill over your hands, you horny girl. . ." he sputtered, "I bet your little panties got wet as you did it. You liked it, didn't you?"

His hand shook and shook, thrashed about like a young girl panicking at the sight of a fly on on her wrist. He could feel strands of hair loosen in his grip as they tore from her scalp and fluttered onto his shirt and the stone ground below them. Ahote could feel her toes weakly tap his belly and her fingernails scratch his metallic hand. Where was this sense of urgency when Ambrosia and Veronika had dragged her around like a loose dog? Where was the panic in her weak, dim eyes when she saw two pairs of expectant, humored ones? Like a wolf made of skin and bones, the raven-haired man knew her fight would soon cease to be and descend into embarrassing submission. It was nauseating.

Ahote's twitching eyes squinted into a choleric, sympathetic glare, his frown making every tissue layered in his cheeks ache. The boiling deep within his throat hissed into a simmer, and the thumping heart pounding in his chest settled into excited leaps. His excessive thrashing descended into mild movements, his grip still pulling the threads from her scalp at a small, unnoticeable pace. Ahote huffed, "Say something, why don't you? It isn't your fault, right? They made you do it." he began to thrash about again with a hushed voice, his arm yanking her to and fro like a man only capable of violent movements, "Those girls could beat you, use you, or play with that disgusting body of yours to relieve their own needs for all I care, but I know how hard you worked to dig his eye out. I know how hard you tried to hurt him, a man who has done nothing but help you. . ." his voice lowered again, his brows scrunching and hugging the corners of his eyes like glue. Ahote's hushed words slithered over her lips and into her ear, the words pecking the flesh every step of the way. He held her close to his glowering complexion, "I can see why they wanted you. You're so eager to please that you rejected a man who could've helped you. . . what a fool you are. . ."

Ah, were these tears? Were tears always this translucent? Ahote couldn't recall a moment he could clearly see his sobbing self in a reflection, the mirrors around here were too dusty to clearly see yourself in them. Yet, the dampness of tears against his cheeks were so familiar that the simmering rage deep in his throat had ceased, and his gaze stared fixedly at the sobbing, struggling girl with a shimmering awe. Is this what he looked like as his father beat him, or when his mother frightened him with her lust for blood? Did his face twist and meld into such ugly, appalling expressions? Did snot cover his nose like that? The girl's shrilling screams reminding him of burning flesh, dark bedrooms, and his mother's yeasty alcohol. It was all so annoying.

Ahote's screwed face softened only so his lips could release a peevish sigh. Abruptly, he dropped her only so the same metal arm that thrashed her about like a punching bag full of sand could push her into a troubled embrace, his shiny digits gently rubbing the reddened scalp threads of hair were torn from. His hissed in a tenderer, venomous hush, "Stop crying," he sighed again, though it was far wearier this time, "I won't hurt you. Not anymore. . . so hush. . ." he persisted, the rubs although gentle, tapping her scalp with the same force he thrashed her about with. Like some ticking bomb, as if any abrupt movement she made would have him grasp her skull like a kickball. He tapped, he stroked, he hissed into her ear so that his whispers echoed through the dark, empty corridor.

Ahote's metal hand crept from her head to her neck, stroking it from the nape to her small shoulders. He grimaced, a frown still screwed over his face, "I'm sorry, let's start over. . ." Ahote stopped stroking and instead pinched her skin mischievously, and smile slithering to his lips and his warm, soft eyes returning to his gaze like he'd wear routinely, "I'm Ahote, master of this place. . . and as long as you stay here, you answer to me when you need to. . ." he continued to mumble, now going in between tenderly stroking and pinching the petite girl's neck, "I wish for Ambrosia and Veronika to have the most fun with you if it makes them happy, but someone with garbage for an attitude can't be running around like that. I had to scold you, you know. I had to. . ." he snickered, taking his other itching hand to press her face into his belly, "We'll go apologize to him later, alright? He deserves an apology, not me. But say it to me," Ahote voiced hushed into a whisper loud enough that it rang in the hall, though inscrutably quiet to the girl all the same, "who runs this place, kid. . .?"

The stuttering girl almost made Ahote feel guilty that he had treated her like that, for every sob reminded him of dirty bedsheets and skin-tingling whispers his Mother soothed him with. Instead, her words trickled from her tongue like a scratchy record stuck on repeat before she was finally able to utter something intelligible. Why wouldn't she stop crying? It was irritating, her sobs, her whines, her pleas. Where was all the fight from before? Did it vanish like he had expected? Ahote continued to hold her with disappointed eyes.

Ahote's tender hands still itched to do far more than to grab her by her locks, but to leave some memorable marks on her as well. But it no longer mattered as he had achieved what he approached her for. Anything more would be unnecessarily cruel. So quietly, waves of soft laughter rushed from his tongue, followed by a cheeky sigh, "But I can't have deadweight freeloading off of our resources, you know. If you aren't going to work for our cause then you'll be living in a cell. So what are you going to do?" he queried, continuing to tap and stroke her head like a man brushing a cat. He knew she wouldn't be so eager to listen to him, and he wasn't so eager to force her either. It was simply a matter of understanding.

The scene was far too amusing to just ignore. The Dreamweaver had been keeping their eye on the new pet of their teammate, Ambrosia. It would be a shame if she tried to run away and then get lost in the frozen mountains. A tiny human would die so easily in such a place and the nightmare was certain that their partner did not enjoy frostbitten meat.

The being of surreality watched the duo from the walls. It had taken the form of a triangular sticker that had been slapped onto the wall. From there, the Dreamweaver watched the two pets of Ambrosia with ecstacy and amusement. It was so cute to watch them battle for dominance. The triangle anticipated the bigger one, the guild master, to win. The other one was far too scrawny and weak with only fear fueling her. The other was much bigger and scarier with anger as his source of energy. The air of the room grew more and more delicious as the scene got more violent. It waned a little in flavor and amount of negative energy as the ‘alpha’ of Ambrosia’s pet pack asserted dominance and made his position quite clear to the newcomer. The atmosphere shifted to one of eerie creepiness rather than full fledged anger and fear. It was too bad, but fun while it lasted.

With most of the action over, the Dreamweaver decided it was about time to step in. Popping off of the wall in a slow levitation, the triangular sticker began to shapeshift mid-fall towards the floor. Within less than a split second, the triangle had transformed into a young man-- an older teen with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a black hoodie. He cracked a grin at the gentle stroking and began to approach Ahote from behind. His feet made not a single sound as they hit the ground and the air did not dare stir. The nightmare existed outside of reality and only interacted at will. As such, he could not be sensed right away except by sight and by his own voice. “Ambrosia will not be pleased to see that one of her pets harmed another,” he said, placing a hand on the back of Ahote’s shoulder to further get his attention. The Dreamweaver’s voice was low, silky, and smooth. He knew that Ahote and Akeldama would not recognize him as the entity they called ‘Veronika’ in this form, but by context of his words, it would at least hint at who he was.

Cooking and cleaning? Akeldama's response was great enough of a disappointment for Ahote's shamefaced expression to descend into something far more dispirited. Anyone worth their salt could cook and clean, and hardly anyone was picky enough to care about what they digested. As long as they had their booze, Ahote figured they'd eat anything edible. Evev he being a lover food could admit as much about himself as well.

Ahote sighed, "Anyone could be a maid if they put their minds to it. You can be more useful than that, you know." he suggested, never elaborating on just what she could be useful for in particular. An errand girl, maybe? Perhaps uncovering her magical capabilities wasn't too farfetched either. There wasn't one path the girl may take, but it wasn't a matter to think too hard about right now.

The Master of serpents could feel the girl's tears soaking the fabrics covering his belly, and while it was a gross feeling he continued to tap his fingers against her scalp. That was until he could feel the fingers of another latch themselves to his broad shoulder, peering over to see a pretty-faced boy with beautiful blond locks and striking blue eyes. Though, at the mention of Ambrosia and her one-sided master-pet illusions, Ahote was quick to conclude that the rather pretty man would, in fact, be Veronika. He chuckled, "I'd hardly call this being harmed. Well, even if she was, you'd need a better consequence than simply mentioning Ambrosia." he smiled weakly.

It would have been slander to say that this place was not boring. From his previous home, the lush green and the singing of the birds was constantly a breath of life itself. Parting into the gentle wisp of clouds, blue was as dazzling as the morning star that stood center in the skies. There was rain, there was winter, and then there was summer. Here on the other hand— offered not an ounce of change. Snow would fall, either gently or in the whirl of the persistent torrents. No color traced the layer of rugged earth, it was dull and white, quiet and lifeless.

Yes, it would have been slander to say this was great. He hated it here, more than anything. No matter how obscured it was, how disturbing it seemed, he hated it. The people here, how cold it was. Everything about it was lousy. He could fuss about it as much as he wanted, though nobody would listen. Not even him. The last time he had even attempted to do so, was met with immediate scolding. Words that made him feel uneasy and frustrated.

Theo let out a heavy sigh, impelling himself from the mattress of his bed. It was a simple room, with a small desk, fireplace and various other candles lighting up the area. There was one window, firmly shut in order to block out the chilling bite from the outside. It had not been opened once, a notable layer of dust already coating the surface of the glass. Voices were coming from beyond, faintly he could hear them through the wooden door and down the hall. Just as it had been before, his senses were rather cloudless of failure. Stone wasn't exactly the easiest to look past unlike the winding crowd of trees, still the whisper of company was there. It was just scarce enough for him to recognize that it had also been his friend.

Hardly interested with the rest of the drunks and psychos, it was the concern that had encouraged him to retreat from the warmth of the room. Pursuing the noise eventually led him to the shut door, everything become a bit more apparent then it had before. Sniffling and the mutter of two voices. One that had been remembered as the girl which took his eye— tracing the bandaging that was still coiled over the wound, he recalled for just a moment how painful it was. It wasn't exactly enlightening to reassure those that he was familiar with it, though that was a secret that remained only to himself.   

Pushing the door open, there was not two, but three people all together. The smiling Ahote, the tearful Akeldama and the blondie. Oddly he had seemed familiar, though his suspicions were cut short by the girl that suggested she was distressed. "What are you doing?" approaching the group, the single golden eye looked towards the youth, shining of bother for her state, "Are you alright?" it would have riled his veiled temper to discover that what he had reached out, hoping to protect, was being oppressed regardless. He could not quite deter why his friend would do so, the stranger more than likely.

---

The weak smile and comeback of a comment sent a tiny blaze to course through the Dreamweaver’s figurative veins. Ahote’s back still to the blonde, the nightmare lurched just a few inches forward to gently throw his arms around the guild master in an embrace. Grinning brightly, the blonde-haired surreal being murmured in a low, threatening whisper. “I’ll take that as a challenge. Do you really want to test me?” Varian asked with a smile, recoiling from the little embrace as Theo walked into the room.

The chocolate man-- one of her favorite dolls-- seemed more preoccupied on Akeldama than on the sassy guild master. His question was fair, but the child’s answer was beyond brilliant. A smile stretched from ear to ear on the Dreamweaver’s pale face when Akeldama mentioned the truth of the matter. Azure eyes flickered in amusement at the response and the potential that was certain to come of it. The words of the raven-haired teen made the nightmare love her even more. Perhaps he would not need to deliver punishment to Ahote after all, if Theo was truly serious about how he felt towards the young girl.

Ahote perked up like a pair of unsuspecting ears at the sight of his aloof companion entering the scene, one golden eye missing all the same. Even time he looked at the bloodied, tender socket underneath a veil of chocolate locks, Ahote couldn't help but wonder how Theo could remain so forgiving of cruelty against himself. His bewilderment often made every hair on his body stand in irritation. What use was there to forgive and protect someone who saw no wrong in their actions? Like many things, it was a lost cause where only the insane continued to pursue.

With only a perturbed sigh escaping rolling off his tongue at the little girl's quickness to reveal what had happened, Ahote looked over to Theo with scrunched brows and a puckering forehead. "What am I doing? What are you doing is what you should be asking," he clicked his tongue, taking the wet-faced girl and pushing her away from himself. The man couldn't help but shake his head at the sight of Theo's overbearing concern for the girl, "You shouldn't let people walk over you like that, you know. Especially the kind that hurt others without an ounce of regret." Ahote continued to explain, arms folded over his chest and his pale complexion now one of disappointment more than frustration.

Yet, a brotherly pout transformed into mild amusement as his attention returned back to the clingy blond just coiling himself around the master of serpents. With dulled and dark topaz pools staring fixedly at his feet, Ahote replied in a volume matching the blonde's, "Don't be like that," his voiced dripped with dried honey, tough yet still shimmering with sweetness, "Besides," Ahote continued with a lowering voice, "this isn't the time or place for such silly requests." Finishing what little and low chat the two had, his gaze lifted to the troubled Akeldama and her coddling Theo.

Swiftly the youth had spoken of what had happened, the brilliance reaching towards his friend that nudged the girl away. Rather than seeming liable for hurting a child, Ahote grasped what bizarre and sour reasoning to confront what had already sought for answers. More than anything, being scolded was as bothersome as the tearful display below. The fact that this was worth getting riled over, worth harming another, was beyond him. Theo could never understand the people here, and sometimes he could barely understand his friend. After everything that had happened or maybe even before the pair had met, the pure nature had been tainted so that it may meld with the rest.

Despite all of it however— he was still willing to protect.

The marked hand reared, slamming into the back of Ahote's head. It was a harsh action, though not so much it may have been unbearable. There was no worth in getting into a brawl. He wasn't as senseless as to realize that his friend had simply been concerned, upset over the loss of an eye. After all it had seemed much easier for those to feel the things they could not express. Resenting the individuals that had done him harm— Theo was far to tired to show care for the evil. He had more to worry about then getting revenge.

"Are you an idiot?" starting with the trifling form of venom, he continued, "If the people here gave a damn about anything they did. If they truly regretted their actions and felt sorry, then this would have never happened." the gaze faltered to the girl below, wavering over the bloodied mess and the dampness of her cheeks, "Don't misunderstand. If it had been you, I would have done the same... and she..." opposing from the hand with the dragon symbol, he gently touched her on the head. Certainly the girl had not been able to clean herself for sometime, the various knots, grease and the now fresh layer of blood signified that well.

"—She's just a kid." crimson traced his fingers, continuing to look at Akeldama with an almost emotionless yet thoughtful look, "I don't expect her to understand. I didn't expect her to apologize either." the warmth of the hand retreated from her head, attention raised back and towards his friend. For just a moment the look inched towards the blonde. "If she had lost her eye at that time, she wouldn't have gotten it back. Anything that they take from her is irreplaceable." just like— thoughts severed at the shimmering metallic hand. If only he could have been there to replace the agony of that moment. Then maybe... things would not have become as so.

---

The words of Ahote both annoyed and amused the Dreamweaver. Don’t be like that? The young blonde released the guildmaster from his embrace, only to walk around to comfortably lean against the wall facing Ahote, arms crossed. The nightmare had no request but decided it would be better to teach Ahote a lesson on respect some other day. He only respected the guild master because he was the one leading the guild and there was no reason not to. However, the blonde held certain conditions when it came to such a thing as respect. While Varian held regard for the position of the guild master, he did not personally respect Ahote.

Nevertheless, Ahote was one of Ambrosia’s pets and had the potential to be a good tool or harvester of food. As such, there was reason to protect him and keep him from dying. At the blow to the back of Ahote’s head, Varian released a grin and a delighted chuckle of amusement. The situation was quite entertaining, making the Dreamweaver grateful that he had lingered around to watch it all. Three mortals all settling their differences with heightened emotions and a bit of physical violence… it was all so tasty.

“How heroic~” the blonde commented on Theo’s words, blue eyes alight with mirth and interest. He had nothing else to add-- his only goal was to remain a witness to a scene of hilarity.

Suddenly, the unsuspecting Ahote jerked forward as Theo's rough hand briskly tapped him upside his head, a glowering wince scrunching his face together. A frown plastered across his pale complexion while topaz eyes followed Theo and a fleshy hand sympathetically rubbed the struck area. If it wasn't obvious before, the man clearly had some affinity for children or maybe the innocence they were all born with and it was all starting to get obnoxious. An arm's an arm, an eye's an eye. Whether they were pulsing with blood or riddled with bolts, as long as they worked as well as they should Ahote could not differentiate their values.

A beam of sunlight pierced through small dusty windows placed high on the corridor walls, the bright light streaming over Ahote's eyes as if to veil his glares. He stepped forward, his complexion dark and glowing with indignancy as they fixedly stared at the fidgeting Akeldama and the cheeky fellows that flocked around her. He sighed, broad shoulders shrugging against his neck in a poor attempt to thin the atmosphere, "Your eye, not mine." he said mockingly as his lips quirked into a lopsided smile, his airy words reeking of playfulness but eyes swirling with contempt. Yet, amidst his playful jeering, his voice would become heavy and wet with spite, "She reminds me an awful lot about myself when I was younger. But what are you trying to preserve in her, Theo? Innocence or something?" Ahote stepped closer to the coddling pair, metallic fingers slithering up his companion's shoulder and words itching the rim of his ear, "Do you pity people who have it rougher than you?" he hissed, finally.

Why was Theo so empathetic towards such a clearly deranged brat? There was not an ounce of innocence possessing her, but greed and spite. But it wasn't any different for the serpents, for they swarmed together and while indulging in their differences in many twisted ways, they all had something akin to comradeship. Akeldama was welcomed within their fortress but on basic conditions.