il padrone

Initial Thoughts

Deveor stared down at the crumpled heap of a human body thrown before him. Piercing eyes picked apart the appearance of the unconscious man, a quiet hum escaping his lips as he pressed them into a straight line. The expression only lasted a moment. He had watched from afar as the man had frantically fought against his guards before he was captured. He killed four of them, miraculously. He was subsequently overwhelmed, but the four dead and two others injured elicited some sort of feeling in him. And it wasn’t hatred or anger. He couldn’t help but be impressed with this little human. “Leave us,” his deep voice growled, echoing against the chamber walls. Fading footsteps indicated that the guards had left. He hadn’t looked away from the human. 

The behemoth crouched down, tilting his head. Long, neon green hair cascaded down to the floor as he did. “Where did you come from?” he inquired to himself, seemingly amused. His large hand grabbed the chin of the unconscious man. Angling his head around, he took in the other’s features. “And why?” Deveor didn’t remain crouched for long. An electric shock shot through his wretched heart. He couldn’t help but raise his brows and shake his head, releasing a sigh of sorts before his expression filled with some semblance of malice. A grin. He rolled the human over, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and lifting his limp body from the stone floor. One pair of hands setting themselves on his hips, while the other was occupied by the other man. He was so much smaller than himself, he thought with a short huff of amusement. 

With the dangling human at eye level, Deveor could get a proper look at his visitor. He stared for another moment, before shrugging slightly. He continued to hold him like a scruffed animal as he strolled into another room. It was smaller than the palace entryway, of course. This was a small side room, generally meant for entertaining real visitors. Members of Deveor’s court. He didn’t think anyone would have the gall to say something about bringing the little human here. As he closed the door, his second pair of hands locked it behind him. He didn’t feel the need to turn. He then took his specimen to the table, dropping him there almost carelessly. He was just careful enough to ensure that he didn’t hit his head off of the gold plating. 

And the waiting began.

Deveor didn’t know yet, but the man laying on his table was named Jesper. He could only imagine the reaction that this predicament was going to get out of the man. He continued to smile as he thought about it, a giddy stir in his stomach. He could’ve giggled. It’s been so long since he’s had any interesting visitors. So long since he’s had any unique fighters, at that. Those humans with their guns, their bombs, their pathetic little knives. But oh no, this human had something different! A weapon that relied on a unique set of skills. Deveor quite loved to see that. He wanted to see it again. He left the weapon wrapped around Jesper, hoping that when he came to, he’d decide to use it against him. If he was stupid enough to, anyway. It’d be more amusing if he was stupid. 

“It’d be such a shame to kill off such a pretty little thing,” he mused aloud. “We’ll have to see how smart you are when you wake up, won’t we? Maybe you’ll struggle a little, seeing as you probably are concussed. I didn’t smell your blood, so I’m assured they didn’t bludgeon you when I wasn’t looking. On the other hand, we have some poisons that can cause short comas… I presume that’s what you’ve got running through you now.” 

Deveor leaned back into his suitably massive chair, both sets of arms folding across his torso. “I wonder what your deal is. I think I will let you tell me yourself… No matter how tempting it is to go through your belongings while you’re out of it.” He chuckled again. As he tilted his head down a little, his unruly hair followed. “I’ve been asking the Araze when I’d get some real entertainment. Let us hope that you don’t disappoint me, or them.” He closed his eyes, a rumble of a laugh in his throat. It was silly to talk to someone who couldn’t hear him. It was even sillier that he felt so excited for Jesper to awaken. Oh well. What was one to do besides wait?

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Anticoagulant

A growl ripped from Deveor’s throat as he felt cold steel attempt to slash through his back. His hair, he thought angrily, would be messed up by that stupid blade. He opened his mouth, his upper right hand swiping into his cheek and digging his nails in. He could taste his own blood, witness the viscous black liquid underneath his nails before he swung backwards to lash at the person who had attempted to harm him. He felt his hand make harsh contact. Their body crumbled under his strength. He whipped around to hem up the fallen body, his lower set of arms grabbing both of theirs. He lifted them, baring his teeth in a savage grin. He looked at the cuts that now spanned from their forehead to their chin, in the shape of his nails. Blood welled from the wounds, dribbling out steadily. They wouldn’t stop bleeding now, he knew that. His own blood had mixed with theirs, after all. Bringing soaked fingers to his lips, he dragged his tongue across the blood before he began to talk. “Pathetic attempt,” the behemoth lambasted. “Utterly disappointing.”

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Nerve Agent 

Deveor looked down at the fallen king before him. Another reign he brought to an end by his own hands. “Please,” the man begged. “You need not kill me-” 

“I do,” Deveor replied dryly, wiping his forehead with the palm of his hand. The warm air felt cool against the liquid that he had just swiped away. Without any warning, his mammoth palm was pressed onto the king’s face. He squeezed the royal’s head, his hand slipping down to wipe across the man’s neck before releasing him. Deveor watched as the king’s eyes watered, his face twitching uncontrollably with the contact. He attempted to speak, but a hefty wheeze was all that escaped. The human’s hands clawed at quickly perspiring skin, trembling. “That looks like it hurts,” Deveor teased, lolling his head to the side. “Mmm, what a sad, sad way to die.”

He watched the human writhe, observing the effects of the liquid. He’s seen it hundreds of times. But he likes to watch. His 12’6 frame crouched, folding his top pair of hands together as the king scrambled and convulsed on the ground. “I wonder if there will ever be a time that this bores me,” he thought aloud. As the man before him screamed, gripping for nothing, fighting to break free from the pain and sporadic movements forced upon him by his own muscles, Deveor shook his head. “No, no I don’t think there will.” The lower pair of arms folded over his abdomen. He listened to the choked sobs of his adversary, noting how he appeared to truly be struggling to breathe now. “There’s always space in my heart for the suffering of others,” he tittered.