The Empath's Devil?

Today, Liliya went clothes shopping.

She hadn't fully worked out what shopping meant, but apparently it worked like a trade. Except instead of exchanging goods, you handed over strange, bad-smelling paper and got items in return. Or sometimes a little plastic rectangle would get involved. She still had a hard time understanding that.

But more importantly, she could get out of the safehouse and finally walk around! Ian accompanied her of course -- she didn't know anything about how to navigate this strange world -- and even though she was too old for it, she gripped his hand tightly whenever they crossed a road. She wore dark sunglasses and carried a black parasol to keep the sun off her, but she saw little point to it. The buildings were so huge, they blotted out the sun, half the time.

Sometimes, she forgot to let go of Ian's hand, standing in the shadow of those concrete behemoths.

They had just left one store, Ian loaded down with several bags, when Liliya felt a... tingle. The strange ping of someone's notice focusing on her. She hesitated in the street, head cocked slightly as though hearing something else. A kind of clapping... no... a clinking? By now, Ian expected her strange behavior if not fully understanding it and he stopped with her. Liliya delicately cast out her senses, exploring. So many minds, so many thoughts. They swirled like pools of melted ice cream stirred together, each blending and fading away before she could sample any flavor while people rushed past in their busy lives.

Then she felt it. A sparkle of power. A gift. Neohuman.

Liliya turned around suddenly and looked directly at a young man in ragged, dirty clothes, his eyes also hidden by sunglasses. She brought him into focus -- then stared.

A purple-orange aura writhed around him, darker on the inside and the same flame-color as his hair along the edges. Little sparks flew off of him, like lint made of electricity, fuzzy and jagged and unable to stay in one place. Strangely, there were deeper orange fissures radiating throughout the aura, cracked and jagged, and never staying in the same place. They glowed restlessly, pulsing with energy needing to go somewhere now now now. The unusual aura had a strange shape, which only revealed itself when the boy turned, doing his best to look casual. It formed the shape of two wicked horns sweeping upward from his brow. His hands, stuffed into pockets, still had the shape of large, clawed fingers, each tipped with the brilliant orange flame of his aura.

He had few echoes. A man and a woman flanked him (Mom... Dad... still strong, but tainted with sadness. She felt he liked something with paper. And words. It clicked and she smiled slightly.

Storyteller.

Behind them, a hand on the back of their necks, a man stood, his features obscured. So faint as to be barely seen, but there. Blue-gray sadness spread from him and down their necks and throats. Angry sparks fluttered around the phantom, the thief, focused around a spike in his shoulder. Liliya's heart ached at the loss still so keenly felt.

And looming above the boy, stood a tall handsome man, with a charming smile, classic features and the ruthless eyes of a predator. The scorn curling is mouth into a sneer said everything. She didn't even have to look to see wisps of pale green disappointment clinging to his shins to know it'd be there.

Then the sound that she had heard earlier finally revealed its source. A perfectly average man, of no special appearance or height or weight. Even in this strange world that bombarded her with new and unique things at every breath, this man blended in. He wasn't special... were it not for the heavy leather belt in his hands. He tapped the folded belt in his open palm, which produced the soft tap... tap.... tap.... she had heard. The man craved pain. He hungered it the way fire desired air. Her sixth sense filled her with fear and white-hot anger and she quickly looked away from the phantom.

A passerby rudely shoved into her and she stumbled, her focus utterly broken. Ian quickly grabbed her elbow, keeping her upright while bawling a hearty New York, "WATCH WHERE YA GOIN' ASSHOLE!" Then he turned back to her, eyes wary but concerned. "Ya okay there, sugar? Spaced out a bit."

Liliya nodded, not sure what 'spaced out' really meant either. Then she turned, searching the crowd once more. "Where he...?"


Aedan Byrne