Seated in a gloomy, dim chamber, was a pale young man. His cold irises were peculiar, one ivory and the other a deep ebony, while his milky white face was marred on the left by numerous black markings swerving about. He was clothed in a long dark, leather coat, with thick boots and his under drapery matched the same dominant color he wore everywhere else.

     With legs casually crossed, arms over the back of the wooden chair and eyes fixated ahead on the plain wall, he simply contemplated. He kept an excellent posture for the clothes he wore, refusing to slump his shoulders, and his shaded expression remained proud. Even so, it was such an unnerving self-absorbency and appearance that it unsettled even the night owl that had usually perched upon the crooked, thick branch next to the inn.

     Without the birds usual accompaniment the air was frigid and still, and not one creature of the night dared to break it with reckless noise. It was no wonder that they didn?t; the man?s awkward eyes alone could strike fear into the hearts of the pure and innocent, and he dressed so darkly it caused many to shun him, if he entered a public area. Usually he preferred to mind his own business, unless, of course, one was his business.

     Like always, the plans of tomorrow were coursing through his mind. Thoughts of what he was to achieve, where he was to go and how he was planning to pull through it in just one night; he preferred to plot ahead, to avoid complications, and most importantly, to stay on top of it all.

     He cared very little for others and their struggles; he?d rather play with his many ?toys? and involve himself in more knowledgeable escapades than take part in their meddlesome adventures. People and socialization mattered so little to him, he bathed in the shadows of other?s and hardly ever went outside. Yet, part of him didn?t want that; to be exact, half of him.

     Dual?s persona could take a one hundred eighty degree turn if he tried hard enough. His past life?s memories would reveal years of pleasurable actions that one wouldn?t believe if they knew him now. Years ago he used to have friends that he would accompany, a more satisfying life, and even a caring family. He had a different name then: Kismet.

     Never did Kismet waste time in an alleyway, deciding on the best way to destroy someone, or spend time with creating such complex weaponry. He would always listen to his parents, and take everyone?s feeling?s into account. He?d even spend time to teach his younger siblings talents he had learned from his travels in the outside world.

     The problem is, that Kismet changed, and it was for the worst. He adopted a new person, and let them take over his mind. In the end, it only condemned him.

Back