Apathy

I won't disappoint my deity. . . .


Little slips of yellowed parchments. Slightly luminous runes enscribed onto the page with a delicate claw. Written in a language only the reciprocant can't understand. I tell them it means nothing, that the words only describe the basis of our deal.

It amuses me how gullible some drakes can truley be.

You see, of course that's what's on the paper, though I never tell the full extent of it. These little contracts I design go a long way; they've been spread around everywhere, rumored to deal away souls, given to the element of the one who first created the covenant. However, I digress.

Normally, rumors speak many false truths.


People love my contracts; I can always tell by their surprised faces once it follows through. I make it as simple as I can: I give them what they want, and in return, they give me what I want.
And I want their souls, forever aligned to my flight's element.
I find no difficulty in speaking to them, persuading them, charming my way into getting what I desire. They're all so easy to convince, to coerce into giving what I covet so much.

Especially this Coatl I recently found. He must've been too young to rightfully understand the danger of my parchment. I watch him, staying in the shadows, waiting for the right time to take what is mine. . .

. . .or what will be mine. . .very soon. . . .