forum I'm bored and lonely || OxO || CLOSED ||

Started September 26, 2020 by @Fraust

tune

“You don’t have to keep calling me Sir. Sigurd’s my name.” he said. “And standards are… ugh, I’m terrible with definitions.”

"Oh… okay, mister Sigurd." Cerulean stretched out a bit to get more comfortable. "There's a lot of weird people things I don't know yet. Dragons are easier."

“I don’t know much about people either, you’re fine.” he said, placing the blanket gingerly over the boy’s sleeping form.

Cerulean nibbled at the tip of his thumb again and closed his eyes. "G'night, mister Sigurd… don't let the bug bugs bite…" He mumbled tiredly, soon drifting off to sleep in the bed.

“It’s… it’s morning. But I think you need some more sleep anyways, I’ll go out into town for a bit so don’t be scared if I’m not back by the time you wake up.” to check some things out, mainly. To see if he could find Cerulean’s father, maybe.

"Mmkay…" Cerulean was limp and comfortable on the bed soon after, seeming content to be in a bed for once. He usually slept on hard stone, after all, and he much preferred this.

He stood up, grabbed his coat, and walked out of the house. Sigurd levitated in the air, scanning the world with eyes that could see into the futures. He eventually found a tavern, a good place to start, and materialized there.

There were a lot of people in the tavern, although it was difficult to tell which of them may or may not be related to Cerulean. Considering he'd taken on quite a few dragon characteristics, all there was to go on was some facial features and build and such. Cerulean shared his eye color with his father, and also their shape. He also had similar features on his face in general, although Cerulean obviously looked softer and younger.

Sigurd entered the tavern, ignoring the shocked stares from those outside. “Does anyone here know the father of a boy named Cerulean? I need to talk to him.” Sigurd bellowed.

One man glanced up a bit at the name, but didn't reply, simply continuing to drink whatever cheap alcohol he'd ordered. He huffed softly to himself and turned forward immediately after. He had teal blue, tired eyes, some scruff, mussed brown hair, and a slim build.

Sigurd noticed this, because he noticed, well… everything. “You, sir, do you have any information that could lead me to the boy’s father?” he asked, suddenly appearing right behind the man despite having been at the other side of the room only a moment ago.

"No. What's it to you?" The man asked gruffly, taking another sip of his drink. "If you found a kid, bring him to the police or something. Maybe they'll stick him in an orphanage so his father doesn't have to deal with him anymore."

“Well, I doubt the police would help much. They never helped me, usually tried to shoot me. After the transformation, rather than before. I had to hide away in the woods, can you believe it? Now, I don’t have time for bullshit, so tell me where I can find who I’m looking for or I can twist your organs into pretty little bows. Okay?”

The man rolled his eyes a bit. "Seems a bit unnecessary to twist some random stranger's organs into bows?" He asked. "I doubt the police would like that very much. Why do you care, anyway? You can just drop the kid off wherever. He's not your problem."

“He is, because I’m not a piece of shit. You’ll be awake for it, the whole time. And I’ll make sure you. Don’t. Die.” he hissed. “I will leave you just like that and you will never know peace, so tell me. Where. Is. That. Asshole.”

"Not my problem. The kid can handle himself." The man scoffed a bit. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work." He finished his shot and got up, obviously planning on leaving.

“It seems like you know him.” Sigurd said, blocking the man from standing up and moving anywhere.

"What's it to you? He's not even your kid." The man crossed his arms and glared up at Sigurd, clearly annoyed.

“It’s a lot to me. Again, I’m not a piece of shit. Tell me what you know.” he said, allowing an empty beer bottle to fly into his hand. He smashed it, and held the broken glass up to the man’s face.

The man held up one hand to keep between the glass and his face. "Come on. The kid is half dragon. Dragons can take care of themselves, and so can he. He's no one's problem at this point."

“He’s a child. You’re his father, aren’t you? That’s how you know so much about him. Tell me, how often do you abandon him to this pub, huh?” he asked.

He rolled his eyes again. "He's six and he's capable. He never shuts up. I'm sure he's told you all about himself already. And I spend most of my time working, not drinking. I never wanted a kid, you know. Especially not a mutt."

“He’s not a mutt. That was your last chance, now you’re going to either start being a responsible fucking human being or I’m going to rip you to shreds.” he growled, inky tentacles circling around the other man’s ankles and lifting him from the floor.

"What do you care?!" The man growled, unable to hide his uneasiness when he was lifted from the ground. Some of the other people in the bar were watching worriedly or angrily, and a couple seemed to be calling the police. "He's not even human! He does a fine job taking care of himself!"

“You’re supposed to take care of him! That’s your job, your duty as a father. You called him a mistake, but really, that’s you!” the air started to crackle and warp, reality changed and people slowly faded into darkness. “I gave you your chances.”

"Oh yeah? And what are you going to tell the kid if you kill me? You'll crush him." The man struggled against Sigurd's hold, still glaring at him.

“He won’t need to know.” Sigurd said, the tendrils wrapping around the man’s throat tightly.

"H-He'll ask." The man choked and sputtered a bit. "Believe me, the kid won't shut the hell up. Asks questions every chance he gets."

“I’ll tell him you left for good. Not that difficult to understand. You’re not going to die, however. You’re going to live with what you’ve done, how you’ve hurt people.” he said, taking them fully into another realm of shadows and trickery.

He glared at Sigurd, struggling a bit more. "My job will notice me being gone. They're less gullible than a six year old."