Why do we lie?
In the big midst of things that is the one question that truly matters. All actions rely on it. Power lies for hunger, the poor lie for hunger. They lie for alternate reasons yet it's all the same when you think of it.
"And now I ask you." The room was slick, remains of radiated heat occasionally flaring it up. A warehouse or it seemed like it, I don't really know, nonetheless it worked its purpose. Pine wood carried it's lower half while fired clay bricks held the top, slapped between them was the occasional lime mortar. Within it all I could still smell the slightly burnt pine, captivating if I must say, fresh, sharp, woody.
"Speak." My voice rang out again, low yet filled with authority. When commanding authority hold your voice low, deep, never high, high sounds desperate as if your begging them. Low sounds important for them to listen, your making the choice for them.
Parting it's lips the beast finally spoke vile and tired. "...To fulfil the demands we do all we can. We LIVE for IT!" Bashing his hands against the holy rope, it's tongue twisted laced in an alluring heavy accent as anger filled him.
The shadowy figure in the back snapped like a broken log, head twisting to face the beast hidden in man clothing. A sneer tugged at it's sly mouth. "Live? You think you possess the RIGHT to 'live?'" It questioned in a maddening raspy voice.
The beast tensed. He could see me, smell me, hear me, yet he never saw my lips move. The voice simply wasn't mine. I could tell from the sudden stop of his bashing and eery quiet tone that his instincts lite up.
The thing was smart, no need for me to explain the voice came from a shadow figure only I can see. He probably guessed it was an ally of mine he couldn't see nor smell, that alone put him on edge.
The figure moved again this time next to the beast ear. "Ha..." It breathed heavy on purpose. The beast turned to the left feeling it's damp breath on it's face yet no body. "...Answer." The figure asked calmer this time yet his maddening voice betrayed his composure.
Yet the beast remained silent.
The figure didn't ask again. His long hand reached out for mine while his gaze remained fixed. I didn't accept, he would do more than what I've done to the beast and in the end...
The shadowy figures creepy gaze landed on mine. It was filled with hatred, anger, disgust, amusement that came from awareness of what he will do. Yet not without me can he fulfil it, he NEEDED me to take his hand.
But I hesitated. This 'shadow figure' was something I didn't trust, it hated the beast kin, Vanquiers, to the point it found pleasure in torturing them. But that was the only reason it helped me, because I too hate them.
Sometimes I ask myself, what if I turned into a Vanquier? Would it hesitate to torture me? This creepy, unknown, sadistic figure, does it consider me an ally or only a means to its pleasure?
Despite all the warnings I had myself, I held his hand as the Vanquire watched my hand float confused. My whole sense of self shifted. My body felt numb with only my eyes working. The shadow figure now had control of my body, my senses, my feelings.
Outside my whole atmosphere shifted as the figure took place. It carried the many scents of the Vanquiers kin. Yet they stood out as a sign of death, each scent left a trail of blood and his was soon to be added to the mix. Further alerting the Vanquier.
The figure took in the feeling of my body as it placed a lazy hand on my face for the feel of it. My body grinned at it's control as the maddening voice strolled out raspy. "Now shall you answer?"
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A/N: Tell me if any grammar problems arose or of any mistakes I made, I'm open to criticism. Also made chapter short just so I can see/hope it gain traction.