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Girl's Name: Lucifel [whose character is a male <3]
Girl's Owner: Parasitic Candii
Boy's Name: Vansen
Boy's Owner: Path of the Dragon
Response:
There was very little time to set everything in motion, which was of very little concern to Vansen. If nothing else, the short time span he had to work with only ensured the efficiency of his mission. Deadlines tended to ensure the swiftest and most concise of his work and he saw no reason for this night to be any different. He had told Lucifel that tonight would be special – Halloween was meant to be special, but this one – this one would be memorably special.

Stalking carefully along the rooftops, Vansen kept his eyes ahead toward his target. By the time he reached the location, he’d marked his prey. It was simply a matter of following along from above as the drunken ringmaster weaved his way down the street and around a couple of corners.

Vansen had been planning this for some time, had scoped out all the planned kegger locations earlier in the week and chose the most isolated location, and knew when it started so he would know the best time to leave Lucifel and pick off a stray drunkard; at keggers, it usually took a little less than two hours before someone staggered out in a semblance of deep shame and attempted to drag their sorry selves home so they could drink away the memory privately.

The wonderful thing about Halloween keggers was everyone tended to show up in costume, and most costumes were pretty inhibiting, or at least easy to follow. This clown had dressed up in enough red that Vansen could have followed him for miles, but he had no wish to waste such time. Darting down the roof as the ringmaster bowed over to lose a bit more of the alcohol content in his stomach, Vansen launched off and landed claws out on the drunkards back.

He did not wait for the fool to fall, but rather launched off his back as he fell into the pile of his own mess and made quick work of him, taking sizeable chunks from his legs to ensure he didn’t get away – after silencing him with a cuff to the head of course. Once suitable damaged and unconscious, Vansen dragged the body onto his shoulders and dug his teeth into the man’s arm before getting himself back onto the rooftops.

It didn’t take him long to find the halfway point from Lucifel’s place to their intended dining location and drop off the ringmaster for later discovery. It was all a matter of dashing home as fast as he could manage and cleaning himself up, to arrive freshened and gleaming to pick up Lucifel.

Lucifel had no notion of what Vansen had in store for him, but Vansen knew Lucifel would not be entirely happy to know someone had been intentionally injured so that he could heal them. Thus, all of the run around work he’d had to set in place to give Lucifel the opportunity he so deserved. Not for a moment did Vansen feel a moment’s guilt for deliberately attacking someone simply so his Lucifel could have an opportunity to maybe heal them.

To Vansen, there was no such thing as ‘crime’ when it came to Lucifel. If someone had to die so Lucifel could smile on a bad day, Vansen would kill them without thought. If a mother had to watch her child burn just so Lucifel could laugh after something made him cry, Vansen would be wagging his tail to fan the flames he set in the first place. All the while acting as though he had no notion how the fire started, but Lucifel was laughing so of course his tail was wagging, for why shouldn’t it if Lucifel laughed? For if there was one thing Vansen didn’t want Lucifel knowing, it was how utterly dark and twisted Vansen truly was, and how willing Vansen would be to do the unspeakable, just to see that Lucifel was happy.

For some things were best kept secret, and Vansen’s obsession with Lucifel was something Vansen recognized as a dangerous thing to reveal. What they had was special, a bonding of brothers that friendship alone could not bring about, yet it ran even deeper still for Vansen. That depth was something that was more than their relationship needed, and to keep them strong and steady, Vansen was careful not to show how deeply necessary to his wellbeing and stable psychosis Lucifel actually was. Nothing good could come of that being known, he knew.

So he picked up Lucifel without a hint of what he had done, and spoke with him in tandem or in rhyme as Lucifel so loved to do. It was difficult to follow sometimes, but Vansen spent hours studying the rhythm of rhymes, dictionaries, books on vocabulary and even bits of other languages simply to ensure he could keep Lucifel’s game fun, for even if he never used a word like prolific for any other purpose, ever, having used it but once for Lucifel made finding it worth the effort.

As Lucifel was telling him something about a bone he had recently discovered, Vansen interrupted him – something Vansen did perhaps once or twice a year, and generally only due to some state of emergency, such as telling Lucifel to look out for that falling tree – to point out the injured Ringmaster. Vansen followed Lucifel to him then, and sat back, allowing Lucifel to work his healing, moving only when asked for assistance.

Vansen willed the ringmaster to heal, his thoughts viciously focused, all but ordering the man to respond to Lucifel’s science and magic, though he kept silent. He didn’t care if the ringmaster lived or died – the man was worthless in the long scheme of things, but he had to heal. He had to, for Lucifel would be sad if he did not. With all his thoughts focused on the man healing, so that Lucifel could be pleased, Vansen was not surprised by the success of Lucifel’s endeavours in the end, for there was one thing he knew that Lucifel did not.

Rubbing up against Lucifel, Vansen gave a low purr of contentment for the contact even as he growled, ”Well done, little dove.”

The ringmaster would live, the bone magic and healing science of Lucifel was something that Lucifel could take pride in whatever it truly meant, whether it was an honest magic or a genuine science, whether the success was of one or the other, neither mattered. Together they made Lucifel’s skill, his gift, if that was what it was – in the end, that didn’t matter either. There was only one thing that did.

There was only ever one word that rhymed well with dove.