Out of Character:
All uses of Aurelianus Drak'shal's character have been approved by his writer.
This is somewhat of a followup to Child of Darkness.
In the kitchen window, Muir lounged on a stool and reveled in the last golden rays of the evening, soaking in the warmth like a lazy house cat. His arms sprawled across the tangles of ivy that decorated the sill and the sun caught his auburn hair, highlighting it in flame as he watched the room. A light breeze filtered in and he shivered, cocking the collar of his jacket to insulate his neck.
"Are you really that cold?" Luned asked as she tidied the mess from dinner, the blissful scent of baking still hanging in the air as she busily returned cooking implements to their rightful homes. She was perfectly comfortable in her thin blouse but, then again, she hadn't spent the past several years in a desert. The girl had taken to wearing her long, darker hair down, but from the way she always gathered it over her left shoulder, it was obvious she just used it to play down the fresh scars on her jaw and neck. When unobscured, they shone bright white against her already pale skin. "You've been in Fallien too long. This is the best time of year to visit Radasanth, nights are warm but not too humid yet. Don't you remember?"
With a groan, the young man forced himself into somewhat civilized posture, his boots hooked in the rungs of his stool. "You don't know what you're missing, Lune. The desert is like being wrapped in a fuck-ton of blankets and just sort of shoved inside an oven all the time." He spoke with gratuitous use of his hands, insinuating some sort of fluffy burrito.
His sister wrinkled her nose, not particularly appreciating the metaphor. They were quite obviously siblings in spite of their differing demeanors, particularly in the face; they shared similarly delicate features, and though his darkly tanned skin greatly contrasted with her fairness, their freckles marked them as two of a kind. "That's supposed to sound pleasant?"
"Never mind," Muir gave up, dragging himself to his feet. He smoothed his coat, a nautical looking thing likely pilfered from another man's closet, which made him appear rather like a pirate in combination with his pinstriped pants that were tucked smartly into old leather boots. He wore a brightly woven Fallien-style kerchief at his neck in a scarlet that made his emerald eyes glow. "I think I'll go pay Rez a visit."
Luned hung her apron up with a little smile. "Have fun." When she stood next to Muir, with his radiant complexion and eccentric clothing, she felt a bit like she disappeared, but that was how she preferred things. He'd likely get up to some rampant mischief with their mutual friend tonight, but instead of feeling left out, the scribe would be glad to get one last evening of quiet reading in before preparations for the upcoming voyage grew too hectic.
With a wry little grin and nod of parting, Muir stuffed his hands in his pockets and strolled out of the room. "Will do!"
Hot mug of tea in hand and a choice book under her arm, Luned ascended the steps which led to the living space of the library, the scuff of her soft-soled shoes against stone nearly echoing in the tall, narrow passage. Off the small second floor hallway were a small parlor, a couple of guest rooms, and the scribe's own bedroom at the far end, where she deposited her reading on the desk. Dusk loomed over the view of the water from her window, casting deep shadows and bathing the world in gray, and as she reached out to the lamp, a voice erupted from the darkness behind her.
"'Ello, luv," it greeted her, the demon's grin apparent in his tone.
Her heart lurched and she dropped the mug, ceramic shattering hard and loud against the floor.
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