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SNATCHERS AND AUTHORS
Eru ☘
It was cold, it was dark, and it was quiet.
Out of the three, it was only one Eru fancied, the former two being the obvious inconveniences.
He was already in an irritable state after being awoken to go on his next mission by Drago himself and the chilling night, damp air and unsettling atmosphere did nothing to raise his spirits.
He let out a series of grumbles as he looked down at his bare feet, the bronze skin now sored up with peeling flesh, barely dry blood, and thin cuts under his toes.
This whole situation was ridiculous.
Sure, he was the last of his kind, but he definitely wasn't the only Snatcher in the whole Empire. And it being that he hadn't fully recovered from his last mission, they could have at least given him the night off.
But no, not Drago.
When he wanted something, he got it the way he wanted, using whoever he wanted, and to the detriment of anything that stood in his way.
The sick bastard still coming out looking innocently coy after all is said and done.
Eru slowly and silently stood up from his crouched position, his lips thinning in added irritation as he felt the grave mud seep into his toes and sting the open wounds.
On a normal day –if his days were to be considered normal- the feeling would not have caused him the least bit discomfort but just like his last mission, the land was cursed by Felizo, its owner, hence, successfully stumping the healing and numbing build in Eru's system.
His blue, diamond eyes sparkled in the dark night as they narrowed in on the castle a few miles ahead of him.
Built in the ancient castle, was a 900m (approximately 3000 feet) tall tower that held the sole reason for his current sleep-deprived state.
It would be an easy climb. Easier if his feet weren't so bruised up.
He raked his hand through his disheveled black locks and tilted his head from side to side, the soft crackles of them unknotting echoing in the night as he stretched.
Rolling his arms backward and arching his back, a sigh left his lips along with the knots and cracks...
It was cold, it was dark, and it was quiet.
Out of the three, it was only one Eru fancied, the former two being the obvious inconveniences.
He was already in an irritable state after being awoken to go on his next mission by Drago himself and the chilling night, damp air and unsettling atmosphere did nothing to raise his spirits.
He let out a series of grumbles as he looked down at his bare feet, the bronze skin now sored up with peeling flesh, barely dry blood, and thin cuts under his toes.
This whole situation was ridiculous.
Sure, he was the last of his kind, but he definitely wasn't the only Snatcher in the whole Empire. And it being that he hadn't fully recovered from his last mission, they could have at least given him the night off.
But no, not Drago.
When he wanted something, he got it the way he wanted, using whoever he wanted, and to the detriment of anything that stood in his way.
The sick bastard still coming out looking innocently coy after all is said and done.
Eru slowly and silently stood up from his crouched position, his lips thinning in added irritation as he felt the grave mud seep into his toes and sting the open wounds.
On a normal day –if his days were to be considered normal- the feeling would not have caused him the least bit discomfort but just like his last mission, the land was cursed by Felizo, its owner, hence, successfully stumping the healing and numbing build in Eru's system.
His blue, diamond eyes sparkled in the dark night as they narrowed in on the castle a few miles ahead of him.
Built in the ancient castle, was a 900m (approximately 3000 feet) tall tower that held the sole reason for his current sleep-deprived state.
It would be an easy climb. Easier if his feet weren't so bruised up.
He raked his hand through his disheveled black locks and tilted his head from side to side, the soft crackles of them unknotting echoing in the night as he stretched.
Rolling his arms backward and arching his back, a sigh left his lips along with the knots and cracks...
