When he left the sunny side of California and came to the bustling music
of New Orleans, he wasn’t expecting ---- Well any of this. Jean had meant
to flee the life that dealt with spirits and the like and yet he finds himself simply
drawn to the nature of those who are deities. Maybe himself wasn’t human, a
human would have ran with their tag between their legs and him? Nah, he didn’t
run instead he had stayed put. He had revived an old friendship with a warlock
who lipsticks stain his memories ; befriended a beast who he got the sickest
feeling from and finally a necromancer who didn’t come off as horrible as
everyone made him to be.
Meeting new faces does little to phase him but there is
still a deep sense of guilt that resides within him. He knows the wrath
of the Ghost he left back home, knows that he shouldn’t have left on
a whim without a word but he felt too much fear. It’s what kept the boy on
edge, kept him awake at night ; but sleep was not hard come by. Jean had
his rare nights were sleep would kiss each eye lid and bait him to go rest.
-------- How he wished that hadn’t happen. Jean was sound asleep though
nightmares plagued him. Not even hearing the sounds of someone coming
into his room, he remains asleep until he feels a shift in weight on the bed.
Body urges him to wake! But he dismisses it. He knows the warlock
had sometimes a knack for coming into his bed. So he remains with
hues shut until those hands are on him and he feels a heavy weight.
Amber optics snap open in alert and he moves to shove off his attacker ;
a built up cry of panic in his mouth but it’s swallowed down. Red hues
cause nothing but fear to run through him. Breathing is heavy and muffled
as he simply lays there. He feels too cold and too scared to move. But
the words catch him off guard. His brow furrows in confusion -----
hard to find? Was he working for. . .
Heart beats too quickly inside his rib cage as he tenses and yet
he doesn’t do a damn thing. He can’t do anything but remain penetrated
by that gaze. Has that ghost who once haunted him sent someone to come
harm him? How he wants to scream for the warlock, even the necromancer
Hell even the demon that utterly hated him! Jean looked to the side ; room door
is shut but the sounds are enough to wake her. . . Her. . . He can’t let harm to
ever destroy her. It’s a small flicker of light that burns in him and he shoves
that gloved hand off. It’s no scream that comes out but a deal ---- being
around Death one learns to not fear it. Besides, the necromancer would
surely look after his soul.
