In midnight hour,
She rings the bell,
Time has reversed itself,
Nothing seems wrong,
Something is not well,
To find the key,
She goes underground,
To find the key from hell,
Let Chaos begin.She had wavy silver hair in a tousled bob that just barely brushed the ridge of her bony shoulders and the phrase inked in black stood out between her shoulder blades. I am the architect of my own destruction. Ironic really, considering that she was one of the most well-known pyromages in the Underground and pyromages were known to self-combust at times.
In one hand she casually held a goblet of the iridescent liquid that flashed shades of blue and orange, swirling it round and round while watching the colours burst against each other and forming vermillion and cobalt blue streaks against the surface of the crystalline goblet. Dragon’s breath, strong stuff I would normally never consider touching myself. It gave you a high that would last for days, but when you came crashing back down to earth, it hurt like hellfire roasting you from the insides. I’d never thought of it, but that was probably how it got its name.
I approached her cautiously, but from the glint in her ice-blue eyes, she had already felt me coming even before I settled myself on the stool next to her. Around us, smoke wafted in lazy circles and clouds that hid some of the club’s patrons and some newbie party-goers from view. A flash of wing or horns that curled high into the air was not uncommon. This was the Underground after all.
I ordered a shot of normal human gin and it slipped down my throat like a line of liquid fire. Still less potent than what she was having. She had turned away, her hair brushed behind one ear and clipped with a golden pin in the shape of flames. The black and silver ensemble she wore showed off most of her back. Lots of shimmering black fabric dipping to the small of her back and back up to both shoulders. Still the single tattoo imprinted into the skin between her shoulder blades stood out in sharply. I wondered if she had some spell cast into its making, it kept on drawing my attention back to her back, pardon the pun.
After several minutes of me nursing a cup of coffee and the bartender shooting daggers at me for refusing his Fairy Trip special that sparkled suspiciously, she turned around. Ice blue eyes met my own and she narrowed hers.
“Rather unusual ones you have.” she remarked with a hint of curiosity in her velvety voice.
Pale lips to the rim of the goblet, then a smile directed at me. I took my time answering her. Pyromages had notoriously fiery tempers as per their power.
“I’m a Timekeeper. Wolf clan,” I replied dryly “hence the weird copper-gold eyes.”
She nodded and continued sipping at her drink. Her fingers were long and callused, the nails a few shades darker than her eyes. At the present, the left hand ones tapped out a steady rhythm to the bass of the music blaring around the hall. Her eyes scanned my clothing, the insignia pinned to the front of my constellation cloak and back to my face.
“What brings you here to us common folk, Timekeeper Isolde?”