the color of blood || atrocitus
The sight was almost comical, if the aura of the two figures in such a cramped space wasn’t oppressive enough to threaten to flatten the entire building.
Two figures, one massively outsizing the other, stared back at each other in the confines of their private room with the same gaze: red, and dangerous. The larger was male in build, sticking to his crimson theme in appearance. He resembled something of a demon, a spectre from some child’s horror story. The smaller figure.. appeared to be the child in possession of the book. Short in stature, a body appearing no older than thirteen, with stringy black hair and a pale, deadpanned face.
Overturning her right hand, her gaze momentarily fell to the command seals that sat gracefully atop her pallid skin. She understood very little of her situation, very minimal amounts of what she was told upon awakening, but… the presence of her master was absent, and somehow, that made standing in front of the hulking being before her all the more favorable. Though calm, dread and danger rolled off the small female in nauseating waves, even if she resembled an animated doll more than a humanoid.
“... servant…?”
The word rolled off the tiny girls tongue in a slow and strange manner, as if she were tasting something strange for the first time. Her voice was small, and soft, for someone who exuded fear and hatred from every pore. The very way she composed and carried herself contradicted her aura, and as she stared up at her “servant” with hellish orbs, she did not smile, only nodded.
“I am called… Ai,” she spoke again, her voice like wind chimes in a storm. Calmly, she stepped forward, a hand outstretched in the same manner a curious child would examine something. However, it was not difficult to tell whatever mind inhabited that small frame was not that of a child’s. She pressed her small, thin fingers against the hand of the figure before her, utterly unafraid, upturning her head to scrutinize him further.
“... you…?”