The sound of rasped breathing was what pulled at Niles' curiosity. He had been walking through the bustling streets of New York, pushing past bodies that he dared not to care about. Get too envious and you'll lose your mind, he always said to himself. When he'd taken a turn into Central Park, it was only because he was bored with the hustle and bustle that came with five o'clock. Too many pointless conversations and idiotic people for his tastes.
The Park was quiet, peaceful even, though Niles rarely found anything that others would deem "calming" true to its name. To him, this sort of stagnant space where noise could not fill was just dreariness, a place for broken dreams and dampened memories to be brooded over. As to why people tortured themselves by coming here, Niles had no idea. Why did he even bother to come here, when he hated such things that involved memories and dreams. They were pitiful things that humans treasured and that's what brought them such pain. For the clever--and Niles had decided they were far and few--they knew how to use such valuable things as weapons, knew how to manipulate others. That, Niles respected.
Leaves reached out to tickle Niles' right arm, yet they grasped at air. They failed to even snag themselves in the smoky fabric of Niles' garb. The cloak hugged his muscular figure, yet also seemed to swallow him whole. His bare feet poked out from underneath the cloak whenever he took a larger step than norm. Niles could not take off the cloak--he'd tried many times before--and he'd figured it was a mark, one to the very few psychic that could see him. One to those spiteful hags that called themselves the Sun Mother's Revered.
Niles' lips twisted into a grimace. Witches. Just the very thought of the vile creatures made tendrils of hate curl in his belly. They were the reason for this infernal imprisonment! They were the cause for the eternal punishment that made him the empty ghost that was unable to reach out into a pool of life and darkness, one that he dreamed to bask in.
The sound of a gasp for breath. Niles stopped mid-stride and cocked his head to the side. His green eyes refused to bl
ink, ears straining to pinpoint where the sound had come from. There! The rasp of air struggling to find a steady rhythm was what made Niles curious. Now typically, he could care less when it came to other people's pain. In actuality, he found a sort of enlightenment from it, entertainment if he dare say. But this, this sound like, like...someone dying. That was absurd. If someone was dying, Niles would have gotten a Calling. No, something was wrong.
The breath was sharp in Niles' ears when he turned around a bend. He stopped there on the sidewalk, absolutely stunned. "Stop, Sufletul Drifter." The thick Romanian accent that came from this dark-skinned woman made Niles' narrow his eyes. His frozen muscles unclenched as he stared her down. "Stiu ce vrei." Her upper lip quivered as fear settled in. She still kept her palm out toward him, elegant brows dipped downward in anger. "Nu este a ta sa ia." She shook her head in defiance as she said the words.
Niles tilted his head to the side again, an animalistic grin curving at his lips. "You speak as if you hold something valuable. Put your hand down, witch. We both know you're too weak to channel energy," he said with a toothed grin. The mockery on his face only made her angrier.
"Flacara!" At the bark of her word, red flames sprung from the ground and whipped around Niles' legs. Niles screeched out in agony as he fell to one knee. As soon as it had started, the fire went out. A moan escaped Niles as he looked down, only to see that he was unmarred. The witch swayed on the spot once, then landed on the ground with a thud. Niles limped over to her and kicked her in the side, only to curse when she felt no pain. He too did not feel a connection with his foot against her ribs. Anger surged through him and he reached a hand down to pound the woman against her chest.
Her black eyes flashed open and she grabbed his wrist. "You will pay the price," she hissed before her weakened body made her let go. Then Niles saw it. Her aura, her spirit, floated upward from her body. The sight of it was so pure; it was anything but human. Silver and purple lights burst like fireworks within a cloud of vibrant colors. Magick. Niles reached out and stroked the spirit lovingly. He took hold of the tail end and kept it from floating away. A smirk met his lips as he pulled the cloud back down and plunged his greedy fingers into its depths.
Sensations skirted along his body. Emotions, feelings, things he hadn't felt in hundreds of years bombarded him at once. The rush that went through him brought him to his feet. He swept his arms out to his side, willing the witch's spirit to flow into his body so he could suck out every speck of magick it contained.
When all was done, Niles didn't have to move to know that something had changed.
For the first time since his banishment into the Other Realm, Niles could feel the ground beneath his feet.
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