DarkGold WolfEyes

The wet frosty mist clung to his feet, and made clear twinkling droplets on his clothing and dark leather shoes. As he walked the droplets shook off onto the floor making a slush trail after him. Charkol held his head so high that he seemed to snub the people scattering out of the way with their bags.

A thin reddish scar wandered from above his left eyebrow to the corner of his mouth. His scar and boiling eyes intimidated those who dared look at him directly. So as you can imagine, most did not notice his odd clothing when they were too busy adverting their eyes.

When he walked past people in the hallway, their breath fogged the air and nose and cheeks stung with the chill. Most who did get caught in this cold draft put their coats, jackets, or sweater on. One young woman’s teeth chattered she became so cold.

Charkol strolled silently in curving lines. The only thing that made a sound was the droplets of ice and water tinkling onto the linoleum floor. His dark and musty figure clashed with the flashy furniture for a student’s studious pursuits and the eye-catching posters on the walls with school motto and colors.

Strong and sure of his purposefully stroll, a curiosity arose in minds of those who watched his feet pass by. The students watched out of the corners of their eyes as he traveled the main corridor and turned down the Grand Hall.

At first it was hard to tell what direction the strange cold man was intending because he strolled in those curving lines but it became clear as he stiffened his straight legs and spine even more.

The man with the clinging mist approached a group consisting of two young gentlemen and three women. Their book bags were laid atop a solid coffee table of creamy brown in the center of couches. The two youthful men where in deep conversation about the physics of tossing a football and the ethics of their previous game. The young lady with dirty blond hair was wistfully draping her long pretty fingers on the shoulders of the younger of the two men.

But the chill of the stranger disrupted their innocent chatter. They each had to turn their heads towards the shadow cast down upon them. The people surrounding the scene drew their coats closer to their bodies and put their hands in their pockets.

The younger of the two jockeys asked thinly. “Can we help you…” and as an after thought, “s-sir.”

The stranger with the scared face ignored the question completely and looked to the only one with her head still turned away. She was fidgeting in her seat.

Charkol’s confident voice rumbled in her head, < I waited at the White Oaks for you. >

< I know. >

A long pause crept along Charkol’s nerves. < Why are you hiding here of all places? > He then preceded to look around the college, still ignoring the jock.

No answer.

He persisted to interrupt her thoughts with his questions, < Do you not know the danger you put yourself in by being here? The risk you take for not just yourself, but me as well? >

The girl with her head turned did not answer his silent speech.

“Excuse me.” Said the blond more confidently and a bit irritated at being ignored. “Do you mind? We’re trying to have a conversation here… so get lost.”

With a fresh growling rumble the cold stranger kept his pursuits secret in her head. < You like being with these-these children so much that you do not come. Tuy said as much about you when you left. But I thought to give you a second chance. >

“Hey!” Yelled the young man with shaggy blond hair. He stood up in front of the cold stranger bravely. “Did you hear? Or are you deaf? I said get lost.”

With no answer from her yet, the cold stranger continued hopefully to stand there ignoring the blatant remarks coming from the blond man’s mouth.

A soft reply was whispered in the stranger’s mind. < They are not children Charkol. They are my friends. >

The cold stranger snorted aloud at this. The blond thought this was a response meant for him. Short temper getting the better of the football player, he pushed the stranger. Well, that is to say student tried to force the stranger back but failed to do nothing more than cause a pain in his own wrists.

This entry was posted on Monday, November 26th, 2007 at 7:14 pm and is filed under Stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.