The Watcher

((Ok, just so you know, I'm new at this... So if this comes out messed up or totally irrelevant, I'll be more than happy to delete it ))

 

With the wind picking up from behind him, the crescent moon sliding behind a veil of dark clouds, he couldn't be any happier. Theater, he had always told himself, adds spice to otherwise mundane life. His long cloak whipped around him, the new darkness allowing his feral green eyes to shine reflecting a source of light that no one could see. Flecks of dirt flicked past him as the ends of the cloak shook themselves of the filth.

And he... He smiled, a hand, the back of which was marked with a sigil that would have been mistaken for a work related scar had it not been the same hue of glowing green, revealed itself from the folds of his voluminous attire. Pushing aside the cloak that seemed to favor his right, he found what he was looking for - a clay amulet.

So far, he'd been sitting atop a tree, his athletic albeit skinny frame hidden by the shadow of leafy guardian. He had watched the poisoned boy arise... as expected. The poison had been one that wouldn't linger in the vessel's system. He wouldn't want the poor body to suffer a second death soon after it'd been given life... even if it were another one. Now only one thing remained to be seen. To be tested. Of course, theatrics mustn't be forgotten...

The clay amulet, a seemingly ordinary, rough approximation of an object that it was supposed to be only bore a single razor like protrusion in the center of its wobbly mass. Apart from that it bore no color or any other mark of identification apart from its unremarkable grayness. It was this object that he examined in the palm of his hand for a moment; the curious heavenly cresent peeking out of its veil to snatch a quick glance before it hid once again. It was this very amulet that he held between his thumb and middle finger and turned around so that the razor like protrusion faced the inside of his palm. Raising the clay 'amulet' to his lips he whispered to it... a whisper that was drowned out by the sudden howling of the wind that not only masked his cryptic words but the cloak seemed inclined to abide by his theatrics and whipped around violently obscuring his face in the process.

The wind died... the sound of broken clay and a muffled gasp of pain wafted through the thick air but didn't echo. Smiling to himself, the man in the cloak let the now shattered pieces of clay, interlaced with thin rivulets of blood. As the pieces fell, a web of powdery grey mixed with the crimson web... a glint of metal shone from within the arcane depths of crushed amulet just before it all hit the grass below. Grass that decayed in a quickly widening arc as an invisible pestilence sapped the life from their beings...

He would have laughed if he didn't want to give himself away... for the moment, however, he let the cloth that covered the lower part of his face fall to reveal the please smile beneath. A smile that accentuated the hunger in his eyes.

The End

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