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@rose-colored-fancy

Now it’s Lorcan’s edginess versus Sahar’s eternal optimism and Acyn’s blunt curiosity XD Let the games begin XD

Oh. My. Gosh XD XD XD!!! Bahahaha this is brilliant!! I am going to have a field day with these two, I love them already XD

Lorcan

“Phantom Ranger? That’s a nice name! But I like Lorcan better,” the girl said brightly.

Lorcan squinted at her, considering whether she was serious or if she was insulting him. Before he could respond, the boy added, “I don’t know how we’re expected to endure more than one Monday.”

Oh trust me, Lorcan said silently. Mondays have not nothing on this. Though he wasn’t entirely sure if this was the biggest nightmare he had ever been forced into. He had faced many nightmares. From the age of six, the moment he had been sent away to be fostered by another noble family, he had been trained to become the best of the best warriors. He had been beaten, starved, whipped, deprived of any sleep, forced to survive in the worst climates possible, until they were sure that he had hardened up. Until they were sure that they had created the greatest warrior the world had ever seen.

So no. This wasn’t the worst thing he had ever faced. He wasn’t sure he could say the same about the two newcomers though.

“I like your coat,” the girl told him, smiling.

O-kay. Lorcan tilted his head at her in surprise. He had been prepared for another Liorah – at worst. The girl – Sahar was it – seemed to have a level of optimism that was akin to spouting rainbows and unicorns.

The boy was staring innocently at his swords, his mouth agape. Lorcan raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly. He was going to wait until the boy asked before he was going to boast about he earned those swords. And then how he had trained with them night and day for years and years until he had mastered them.

Instead the boy blurted, “Let me see a show of hands, who has green blood?”

Right. Lorcan exchanged looks with his companions and raised his eyes up to the heavens. They seemed to have two naiive imbeciles on their hands.

“That means it belongs to one of the animals and there’s no natural sunlight, although it seems to indicate photosynthesis, I’ve never heard of animals– hemoglobin is red and how else would–” the boy trailed off.

“Alternate oxygen-binding protein,” Sahar added.

“I mean– what else?”, the boy said. “Do you have severe allergies?” he asked Lorcan, turning back to him.

Lorcan stiffened, ire rising up in him. Allergies? What on earth…? Lorcan gritted his teeth. The very idea of allergies was insulting to him. He had been forced to learn how to consume anything and everything during his training years. When he was just twelve, had been abandoned in the middle of a forest during wintertime and left to survive on his own for three months. Food was scarce in that particular forest, so he had eaten anything he could find. Yes – anything. Allergies were the least of his concerns.

“Or is the mask just for dramatic effect?” the boy added.

His mask? Lorcan just about prevented a shout of laughter from erupting from his chest. They thought his mask was due to – allergies. Allergies? Indignation rose up in him – as well as a bit of panic. For the possible desecration of his own dignity. Was that what people thought when they saw him? Not – oh no, its the Phantom Ranger, everyone run, hide, fall to your knees and beg for mercy, AAAAAH!, but instead – oh jeeney mackers, would you look at that lad now with the mask on, he must have allergies, the poor little lamb?

His mouth fell open in horror. Did they truly think-

No! Get a hold of yourself man! He silently shook himself out of his initial shock before he could start recounting everyone he had ever encountered and their reactions to him. He did not look ridiculous at all. He looked intimidating.

“An excellent reason, either way,” the girl said cheerfully. “Most of the things I do are for dramatic effect!” The boy nodded at her statement.

Lorcan breathed out through his nose slowly, willing himself to be calm and collected. Then he bent forward slightly to look them dead in the eye. “I wear it because it is forbidden for anyone to see my true face,” he said softly. “As an assassin of the High Queen, I must conceal my identity from those who wish to kill me. Which is basically everyone I have ever encountered. I am her Royal Majesty’s shadow – and shadows do not have faces. Those who are unlucky enough to happen to glimpse my face, I must immediately dispose of them. That is my code – it is what is required of me.”

He straightened up, smirking under his mask. Now the two newcomers looked slightly intimidated. “But the dramatic effect is a welcome bonus,” he continued. “It helps me get the job done.”

He jerked his chin at the boy. “And you? Boy with an interest in green blood. What do they call you?”