Cursed.....

He was holding his breath.

Holding it, holding it…

Small, frail hands were trembling. People surrounded him, staring, hungry stares… evil, malevolent people that only wanted to see him suffer. Blinking, crimson eyes flickered up at their alleged owner, then back down at the shaking hands. Why was this happening? Why…

“Three thousand! Do I hear three thousand five hundred? Six hundred? This is a splendid item. He can do anything;”

The auctioneer, a man that inherited the nickname of JouJou by the boy, skipped around the stage picking out those who bid their gold pieces away, their malicious gazes carefully picking away at each feature of the boy’s body, studying the lanky gracefulness of his figure and his large, bright eyes. Some men bit their lips involuntarily and gradually raised the price on the boy’s being, sticking their long pointer fingers up in an indication that they were interested.

Red eyes slipped back to JouJou whom turned back and tilted his face upwards and away from the ghastly, insidious countenance. “Just look at that beauty,” JouJou called out towards the crowd of bidders, which immediately raised to the price another thousand. He grinned down at the boy, who had not even reached fourteen, and took the bid into account.

It’ll be over soon… The boy whispered in his mind, a small tear welling at the bottom of his left eye. Why wouldn’t he escape? Where would he go? Before JouJou, he had nothing. To everyone he was some homeless, aimless boy who no one cared about. Trash in the street. A rat that would soon die among the junk, and who would give a care?

He did as he was told and stood like there like the doll he was supposed to be, big, red eyes gazing out to the disgusting bastards below. He seethed underneath his breath, suddenly growing angry. But what could he do? Nothing. Even if he did manage to escape, JouJou would catch him.

He didn’t want to be beat. JouJou would strike him dead if he tried to pull some crap again. Suddenly the old scars on his wrists and neck reanimated. He looked back down at his shaking hands, feeling that the sea of eyes before him would sooner than later swallow him whole. This wasn’t what he wanted, how could it be…  

Suddenly, JouJou stood still in one spot. “Eighteen thousand drachmas! Going once… twice…”

Hood drawn down to his face, obscuring his physiognomy, the sorcerer glided down the marble stairs. His footfalls make no sound, but the town was buzzing with it—the sound of the smiths, beating swords and breastplates into shape, the consistent and dull pounding and the loud drones of people talking that let you know the town was alive. After weaving through the labyrinth of roads, the paths eventually converged and unveiled the public square.

And suddenly he halted in his steps. Peering out from a corner of a building.

In the town square, was hosted an auction. Normally, Euclid would just walk away but the sight of a young boy caught his eye. A boy, barely the age of fourteen, put out on a stage. Extravagant clothes he may wear, and Euclid would think that he is a highborn, but a small wire that bound his wrists together meant otherwise.

They were selling off the boy like an item. They all called out prices, and the auctioneer yelling along, raising the prices as they went.

Dullened red orbs, devoid of hope. And somehow gazing at the boy’s eyes took him to wear he was once imprisoned. Where he was pronounced a danger to all, and locked him up until his teenager hood. The sense of dread and hopelessness, with his wrists bound. Euclid’s golden optics tore away from the auction and to his bandaged hand.

As if he was being controlled; before his brain could process it, he was suddenly moving towards the town’s square of where the auction was being held. His fast walking gave away to running, the autumn breeze coiling into inanimate objects and whipped his hood back. His long, silver colored locks whisked to and fro.

While he ran, a sharp light charged from his palm. When the time was right, he jolted his hand down, releasing the light. The luminescence hit the marble floor, and illumed brightly throughout the square—enough to burn your eyeballs out right from your sockets if directly looked at. His magic would never effect the user (minus sucking out your energy), and he gracefully leapt to the stage.

Loud hollers and screams of alert resounded throughout the town’s square, like claps of thunder, such was their anger and fears. They hadn’t known what had hit them.

Euclid scooped up the boy in his arms and shielding his eyes, running with immense speed towards the forest that he would hope it would give them security.

Everything happened so fast… faster than his eyes could see.

Nikolaus couldn’t do much but gasp his surprise, and finding a rough hand obscuring his eyes and his little body swept up, he went rigid. His thoughts started pulsing through his brain in a ferocious pace; for now all he could possibly pay any mind to was the person who carried him.

The last thing Nikolaus saw was a man. He ran in long, elegant strides, like a warrior charging for battle. A flash of searing white, then agonizing wails that held pain, anger, frustration. They ran for awhile more, out of the town and into the softer forest terrain. Nikolaus concluded this from the crunching of dry leaves under hard footfalls.

“Uh…” He complained quietly, feeling his thin legs dangle against a soft, tugging breeze. It felt cold; gentle wisps sneaking their ways under his light clothing.

The sickeningly feminine attire Nikolaus had been wearing, a maroon peplos that was cut at the thigh to expose his long, slender leg; and a silk shawl thrown and wrapped around Nikolaus’ shoulder. A light outline of kohl darkened the tips of his eyelids, creating an effect on his already heightened irises. After awhile, the strangers’ movements subsided. Nikolaus’ breath hitched as he could see again, big, staring orbs of red shooting up at the stranger.

He was set down, slowly and carefully. And as his sandaled feet hit the dry grass, he felt confused. He stared with parted lips at his... rescuer? Savior? Knight in shining armor?? To Nikolaus, all he seemed like was a comely man with such piercing eyes. Strangely enough, they seemed to be looking straight through him.

“Eh…?” He started, unsure how to put his thought processes into words. This all seemed too foreign.

And, what had he gained from saving this boy? Salvation? He felt empathy radiating from him when he first laid his eyes on him: his bound wrists, and the despair in his eyes…

He hadn’t felt empathy in so long, the feeling was almost foreign to him.

He looked straight into the boy’s crimson visionaries, which held an abundant amount of confusion and curiousness. But Euclid payed no mind to that. The boy was now free of bindings, from people’s corrupted commands, from being a slave.

Euclid turned, and with one final glance at the boy, he strode through the skeletal trees. Trees with their branches so bare that he could have counted the leaves on each and every one as he passed by. The trees were skirted by pools of autumn gold and rust colored leaves. And when the wind blew, the leaves took to the air in an elegant dance, pirouetting around the tree trunks to their own orchestral rustling. When the winds calmed, their dance ended and the leaves landed to form new pools that looked identical to the ones they were in before they started to frolic.

Blankly staring, Nikolaus’ bright crimson eyes watched the stranger simply turn and walk away; into the barren forest. Hints of his silky, paper white hair flashed under the dark hood, so quick and sudden that the boy almost didn’t see it at all.

What was the point of saving him like this? He had nowhere to go, no home, no parents. There was nothing out there for him, and like this he would only get captured again. Perhaps by someone worst than JouJou… and anyone worst than him could sooner be Hades himself.

Scratching his smooth, wispy, neon purple hair, Nikolaus trekked through the trees, after the man whom had just saved his life. He seemed like a fairly decent Nuxvarian; although not saying anything yet, his attire wasn’t dirty or unpleasant in the slightest. In the least, it only seemed like he was keeping his guard up. Nikolaus sniffled, ducking behind trees and brushes.

Now that he thought about it, his wrists were still bound. He looked down at the wires, which nearly cut through his reddened, irritated skin. He needed to get them off, and soon.
He followed the man for some time, into narrow forest paths and through rugged terrain. Finally, the man seemed to have been reaching his destination. He walked without a single bother in him, vision straight and never once looking back. Nikolaus found it sort of strange.

Then finally, a snort was heard off in the distance. Nikolaus, who had been keeping his attention on the stranger for so long and so hard that he barely noticed any of his other surroundings; turned suddenly and watched the horse. He took a couple more steps forward, slowly, carefully… then it happened.

Nikolaus’ foot landed on a thin branch, but it was thick and long enough to crack abruptly. He drew back, holding his mouth to calm his breathing, and hid behind some bushes. He was sold out. There was no way that man wouldn’t come back and investigate, find him, and chase him off.

The snapping of a stick echoed through the woodlands, and in response, Euclid’s head snapped behind him. He scanned his surroundings—autumn trees’ leaves scattered about the forest floors, voluminous trees and the bushes around casting dark shadows.

And as his eyes scoured, he caught sight of wispy purple strands behind a bush, its wilted, brittle brown leaves cling to the bush’s stems. The boy seemed to have followed him through the forest. And Euclid asked himself, why?

Perhaps the boy needed assistance for finding his family…? Or, the wire tied to his wrists? The boy very well could’ve released the wire’s bound with a sharp rock, or rubbing it against a keen rock. However, the boy did not need to sneak around and about, he could have just approached him.

But, nevertheless, Euclid’s hand balled to a fist. Focusing his energy to his hand, digits, to his very fingernails, a dull red light surrounded his fist. Then he released the energy.

A satisfying snap of the wire reverberated throughout the forest. He then turned on his heels, and proceeded to his horse.

He did not mount on the horse, instead, grabbing his horse’s reins and guiding his horse as he resumed walking.

Gasping abruptly, Nikolaus flinched at the sharp snapping of the wire that once tightly bound his wrists. It was clear now… the man had to have definitely been some sort of sorcerer or magic wielder… the bright light, and now this? If anything, he’d better off with someone like this. Now was his only chance, if he didn’t want to end up a rat on the street fighting for his life at every turn.

No… he couldn’t be alone. Not ever again. Just the thought of it frightened him.  

Rising from his once crouching position, Niko knead the reddened skin of his wrists, feeling the warmness where the rough wire rubbed his flesh relently. Nearly tripping on his own sandaled feet, he broke into a sprint towards the man who just recently saved his life.

“W… wait!” He stuttered, crimson eyes wide and frightened no matter how hard he tried to dissemble his facial features. “Mr..!” Stopping right in front of the tall, elegant-bodied man, Niko stared at the horse, its coat groomed and well kept. It seemed healthy, certainly… and this made Niko sour at the fact that he used to be treated the same way… like a pet. Looked after and pampered, in the end only for the caretaker’s benefit.

Realizing he must have been hindering the man’s ability to move forward, he quickly came back to his senses. “Uh…  I-I… I don’t have anywhere to go,” Niko started, cursing his inability to hide his nervous stuttering. Unconsciously, he rubbed at the skin of his wrists, where the deep crease left from the wire resided. Only now did he realize how much it hurt… JouJou, that bastard…

Suddenly, a rush of anger filled him. All his life, he’s been thrown away like some broken toy. His own family abandoned him, and no doubt the past repeated itself and his adopted family got rid of him, too. JouJou, despite his abusive nature was the last person whom Niko trusted, even if only a little bit. And there he was, ready to accept a sum of gold pieces over his head.

Furiously, Niko stared at the man with those shining red eyes of his. He was done being treated like a pile of shit. “Why would you bother saving me if you know that I’m practically homeless?” The fangs in his mouth were exposed and underneath the peplos, his bright purple tail lashed violently. “Who are you, anyways? Another dense bastard?”

Euclid’s stare wasn’t intentionally cold, his face lacked the mobility that others had. It was more like a vacant stare. And his physiognomy held no emotions. The boy—however—had an angry visage. His lips were curled, and out his enamels bared.

He heard snarled questions leaving the boy’s mouth. Though, instead of answering, he wove around the boy, silence entailing between the two, only the sounds of the droning of bugs and the nearby trickle of the creek in the distance perforated the quietude.

He had no intentions of answering the boy’s thrown inquiries.

With the horse’s leather reins grasped at his bandaged hand, perambulating through the woodlands. Euclid did not seem to care much if the boy was following him or not.

The lingering light was obliterated by the rapidly falling night, Euclid lit his fire long before that, hitherto the salmon and purple skies transformed into a vast expanse of jet-black that engulfed the forest. He gathered wood, snapped his fingers that sparkled flames forth and sprouted into the picked woods.

It licked at the logs like a nervous kitten and sent feeble sparks to die in the air. But within moments, it found its confidence and inundated the wood, the flames celebrating with their wild flickering dance.

Euclid settled down to the earth, skinning a rabbit carcass that once was hanging off and tied to his belt, solely focusing on his task, at hand, literally.

Nikolaus stared blankly at the man whom simply walked past him, ignoring every single word that previously left his lips. Bright red eyes which had melted into a gradual hue of blood red followed the figure, which strode past.

Growling, Niko walked after the man, eyebrows narrowed in a fit of rage. “What the Hades?? Are you even listening to me!!” He shouted, nearly tripping on the heavy greek attire he wore. Seeing the man settle down near a fire and begin to skin some animal carcass, Niko scratched at his head, confused.

“Are you deaf??” He asked, holding his hips and looking at the man with narrowed, fuming eyes. He shouted for a couple more minutes, but finding himself being ultimately ignored, Niko sighed heavily, and sat across from the fire the man made. He stared at the stranger, slightly panting from his own outburst.

Well, it couldn’t get much more fucked up then this.. But he was used to situations like these, so he should probably contain himself a little longer. After all, it was his fault for being such a nuisance anyways… he probably was only annoying anyone who ended up with him. Which is why they always left.

“Hmmm..” He looked at the ground, feeling defeated, and realizing how tired he actually was; dragged throughout the city, nearly sold to some pervert… and now rescued, but at what benefit? Would he had been better off with some perverted pedophile…? Hell, he was almost yelled at for simply screwing up the kohl on his eyelids. He wonder how he looked right now… probably mad.

The boy shocked out of his daze. What was he thinking? This wouldn’t help right now…

Niko frowned, staring at his long attire. It was much too long for him to do anything in. He couldn’t even run without nearly tripping on the lengthy fabric. Gathering the ends, he tore through it with his sharp teeth and ripped a perfect line off of the end, leaving it a couple inches shorter.

It would make things easier, surely, if he didn’t have to worry about tripping on this.

He hearkened to the boy’s angry outbursts momentarily. Within a few heart-beats, Euclid tuned him off. The boy settled unto the earth at the opposite side of the fire, seemingly exhausted. He pay no heed when the boy altered his attire, leaving his legs more free.

Two sticks at either side of the campfire stood tall and rigid. The carcass of the rabbit was perforated by a stick, toting by the vertical sticks. The heat from the fire slowly but surely roasted the carcass.

Its light cast by the flames danced across the dark trunks of the trees, twisting and curling in obscure shapes and providing a small radius of light. His wispy strands of silver hair that peeked out of the dark hood reflected the colours of the fire: brilliant shades of red and orange.

Within the radius of light, Euclid casted a barrier; the night was dark and full of terrors. You never knew what could be among the darkness of the woodlands. His robust lips parted and moved in a silent incantation, and the transparent dome within the light of the fire was casted.

The carcass roasted to a dark goldish color, in which Euclid removed the stick from bearing its weight to the two vertical sticks. He peeled part of the tender meat, popping it in his mouth as his ivory enamels chewed at the rabbit’s flesh.

Nikolaus laid down on the ground and tucked his hands behind his head, already feeling the full effects of exhaustion. He didn't want to be a nuisance. He could just fall asleep, and not give the man another reason to take heed to him.

But what if he woke and the man would be gone? Where would he go then?

Rolling on his side, Niko peered through the fire for a moment with eyes as red as the coals, its warmth radiating against his skin. It was a comfortable heat, not too hot. Letting his crimson eyes slip closed, Niko tucked his arm underneath his head full of thick purple hair as a cushioning against the grassy ground and eventually fell into a dreamless sleep.

His face relaxed and he wasn't scowling anymore; the boy never really did smile much since entering his teenage years, and only in sleep was he truly at peace.

Canary-golden luminaries were pinned to the boy’s sleeping figure, stoic visage betraying no emotions. Euclid had finished the rest of the rabbit, now the bones were used for fuel for the burning fire.

Euclid’s back rested against the bark of the tree, his cranium lolling back as he allowed himself to be dragged to the oblivion of sleep.

The following morning, as Euclid rouse from his heavy slumber; he noticed the coolness of the air and its loamy fragrance. His hand was brought up to rub at his stiff neck, as he ceased to lean on the rough bark of the tree. His garbs felt as damp as a dew-laden flower. His partly opened eyes take in the shafts of light that burst through the gaps of the leafy canopy above.

His drowsed eyes trailed to the fire which was nothing but dying embers, rendering useless. Reserving the noiseless atmosphere, he rose to his feet. He then dragged his visionaries towards the boy—still deep within his slumber.

Pondering if the boy would wake up hungry, Euclid strode to his horse, opening the leather pack. Digging inside the bag, he pulled out an apple and a few small apricots—still fresh. He ought to go hunting; mere fruits would probably not fill the boy’s stomach.

He put the fruits down, along with his leather canteen that filled with water, only a few feet away from the boy. Euclid then began to string up his longbow and supplied his quiver with arrows, paying no heed at the boy’s stirring.

With unhurried movements, crimson eyes slipped open only halfway, lidded and heavy with the fading sleep.

"...mm..." Nikolaus lazily peered around, finding everything how he left it; except now the fire had steadily died out. Bright sunlight appeared through the trees and in patches on the grassy ground, illuminating what was once a dark forest.

The boy yawned a little and sat up, joints in his arm and back popping now and then as he stretched. He scratched at his head full of messy purple hair, which inevitably, had accumulated a couple grass blades and leaves. Of course, the boy didn't mind... anything beat being cracked with a whip for as much as breathing wrong. Nikolaus was about to groggily stand when he noticed the aggravating man from that previous night kneeling not too far away, particularly focused on adjusting what seemed like a weapon.

Red eyes stared, enraptured. Nikolaus has only seen that sort of thing twice in his lifetime, and they were both during instances when JouJou had been auctioning a couple off; so he never got too close. Pausing, Niko worried his bottom lip. Would the man still ignore his presence, even after letting him sleep here? "...good morning," He called as politely as he could across the slightly smoldering fire, doubting a response would come.

The boy’s voice had reached Euclid’s ears, causing him to turn his cranium as gold eyes drifted to him. No words had left his lips and he turned his attention back to the bow, he glanced it over.

The bow was crafted of flexible, slender yew wood and rawhide braid woven around the grip dipped in a maroon color. Though it seemed it was not much, in any second glance it would appear pleasing to the eye. Whomever took it on hand seemed to mold its perfect balance, the curve of the limbs that suggests the wings of an elegant bird extended in flight. He tested the bow string by drawing it back, making sure it was not too tight nor too loose. After the adjustment to the bow, he noticed he was short on arrows…

Spotting a filament of a branch, he reached for it. He infused magic unto the limb with his touch, and the branch had thinned itself out to a more preferable equipoise of an arrow; a conjured pike and a fletching had appeared, hazed in a fiery blue light. Then, he duplicated the enchanted make-shift arrows so much as it fills up his quiver. Though, the conjuration is temporary, soon it would turn back into plain branches. He would make use of them before then.

Slinging his quiver over his back, Euclid rose with quiet grace, eyes ripping from his bow to his tattered bandage that laced his hand. He would have to change it soon. Gravitating to Onyx, who finished foraging, he mounted the white mare. He beckoned her to a trot, haunches quivering as she rocked forward.

A while back, he had noticed a sounder of swine skirting the woodlands, he would be heading there. Euclid could not guarantee if the boy would remain here, though he wagered so. Streaking through the forest, Onyx graduated to a canter, Euclid raked his eyes as he approached the vicinity where he last saw the boars. Weaving through trees, he spotted the group within a glade from within the trees in the distance. They were adults, males, massively bulky and strutting about with thin legs. They were equipped with curled tusks, accentuated with small plumage—wings, sprouting forth from their hunched backs.

He picked out the smallest of the boars with quick eyes, and as the horse was cantering, he nocked an arrow, pulling the string taut to his ear. Taking note of everything that could interfere with his shot, he steadied it over his target. As Onyx drew closer, now inaugurating into a full gallop, Euclid let the tension build through the arrow before he released, the string snapping forward with total force. It was meant to hit the boar right between his eyes, but he had shifted, striking his shoulder instead.

A piercing squeal alerted the rest of the boars, who unraveled their wings and flapped, unable to take flight as they bolted from the radius. Unlike female swines, males do not tend to stand their ground and attack. The boar who Euclid had attacked let out a guttural shriek, and fled from the glade, slowing down from the wounded shoulder, flapping his wings desperately. Engaged in a chase, it was not long till Onyx had managed to pass the injured pig and swiveled her flank and thunderous hoofs in front of him, blocking his path.

Euclid anchored another arrow—this time his enchanted one, and it flared with its magics as he poised it over the boar’s head, and let the arrow fly. It hit the boar’s cranium, and his frame forthwith seized with rigidness and fell over. His squeals dwindled to grunts then to silence. Euclid stroked Onyx’s mane in a manner of praising before dismounting, approaching the now lifeless swine.

He withdrew the arrow buried deep within its shoulder, but left the enchanted arrow that was situated between its eyes. As it lessened with its implanted magics and eventually returned to a mere branch with no conjured pike or fletching.