The Chronicles Of Bournemouthshire

  I scanned the village square for any more weirdos while muttering, “No signs of sane, intelligent lifeforms sighted… coast is clear…”
  “That is harsh. What about me?”
  I nearly jumped out of my skin as someone blew into my ear. My suspicions were confirmed as soon as I heard a mocking chuckle.
  “You son of a–!” I turned rapidly only to gape at the sight in front of me.
  I never thought it was possible, but Arane had finally achieved the impossible – he looked weirder than usual. His hair was sticking out in poor attempts of plaiting it, with a few flowers here and there. His clothes left little to the imagination as he wore tight open-chested vest and trousers with high boots. What was ridiculous about it (since showing off his good physique was nothing new) though was how bright purple the clothes were.
  “What…” I opened and closed my mouth like a fish, “What even are you?!”
  “Your words sting me, love…” Arane overdramatically covered his eyes with his palm, “To think you would not recognise your fine specimen of a master!”
  After not getting a reaction other than a blank stare, Arane shrugged and did a spin, “How do I look? Oh, do tell me I am positively fabulous!”
  If there was one useful thing about this strange getup, it’s that his rear did look on point. His backside was beside the point though and I would rather die than say that out loud.
  “You look like you ran away from a third rate circus, clown.” I couldn’t believe he even added a few little bows to the tails of his vest tailcoat.
  “You know you love it, my sweet.” Arane blew me a kiss while looking like he was posing for a portrait.
  To be fair, I was in no position to judge him. My own outfit followed close to his. Pretending to be a dancer of the Amethyst tribe involved a lot of sacrifice as far as your self-respect goes.
  “And look!” Arane carried on to ignore my lack of replies. He squished his cheek to mine and grabbed my waist while holding up a hand mirror to show our reflection, “We match!”
  The reflection showed an excited Arane and a disgusted beyond words me.
  I shoved Arane off of me, “What are you doing here?”
  “Living the life,” Arane shrugged and tossed the mirror away. I flinched as I heard it smash through a window and someone scream curses at the top of their lungs, “What does it look like? I’m going about my own business. Thought I’d say hi.”
  I rolled my eyes before proceeding to walk into the Glenton square. It was a **** that he wouldn’t want to be seen with me in broad daylight, but as usual Arane completely surpassed my expectations and skipped over next to me.
  He poked my cheek, “Kitten, you mad at me–?”
  “Why would I–”
  “–for not showing up earlier?”
  “Hell no.”
  Some may see our bickering as a sign of a close relationship. That was far from the truth, though. It may seem leisurely now, but our meeting was far from sunshine and daisies. I can still remember it even now.
  It was on a frosty winter early morning. As usually, I had left the library at around three in the morning and was making my way through the alleyways of Londinium. I had seen a fair share of all sorts of creepy and shady in these alleys, from questionable substance trade to human trafficking of the most indecent kind. Thanks to those, I always carried my weapons with me at all times. This night was no exception of the daily strange occurrences.
  A strange mist had formed around a particular part of the alleyways, the temperature dropping even lower than normal. I was shivering and rubbing my hands together when I came across a sight which shouldn’t have been a surprise to me. Yet it still shook me to the core. There, under the distant moon, in a dead end stood he.
  It was Arane. And he was surrounded by a pool…no, it seemed more like a sea… of blood. A lone assassin in the middle of the night, strangely and dangerously beautiful. His silky, white hair was a complete contrast to his blood-soaked body.
  I dropped my bag as I saw the decapitated corpses lying around, the source of this sea. This had created a splash. The ethereal assassin in front of me twitched as he slowly directed his blank gaze at me.
  For a while, we just stared at one another.
  His gaze was empty. His mouth slightly ajar. His shoulders slumped. He looked like he was lost. It was strange to be feeling pity when he had clearly killed all those men.
  I was probably the complete contrast to him: my eyes were wide and shaking in disbelief, my mouth was quivering with a silent scream, heart racing and very much alive. For how long, though? was my only thought at the time.
  The stranger in front of me tilted his head, his movements graceful as he jumped off the wall. I immediately backed away. After that, I can’t remember much. I do remember running away though. He didn’t give chase. Last I looked behind me, he just stared at me with a kicked puppy gaze.
  It was more shocking to find him in the library the next day when I arrived. He was in his usual order robes with the slight modifications to as usually show off his chest and arms.
  “We meet again, fair lady.” he seemed almost like a completely different person, with his nonchalant smirk on him. He lifted my half-soaked in blood bag, “You left a little something behind last night.”
  That was the start of our few interactions. It seemed that Arane had knew me from before. He came to the library once in a while, according to him (although he would not reveal why). The few times he did come in, he could not help but be amused by the ‘silly library assistant who kept messing everything up quite adorably’.
  Arane’s teasing was rather strange, considering the true face I saw that night we first officially met in the dark alley. Over time, he even began to call me ‘kitten’. Something to do with my always messy hair and lack of balance while climbing the library ladders.

Aren't you?

That just makes it sound like I'm an old man

Grumpy grumps

Hey! I'm not that grumpy!