34 We Are The Black Rider (1/2)
Lightening flashed across my vision. I realised my eyes were open and seeing grey s.p.a.ce void of any characteristics, however the ground held a ma.s.sive image of a lotus flower in full bloom on dark, formless, waters. The waters ran on like an endless pond.
”This place.” I found my voice.
”You should realise what it is by now.” A deep voice boomed into my ears.
A black figure approached me from the other side of the lotus flower.
He was wearing black robes that covered his body from his neck to just below his knees, revealing his st.u.r.dy legs in black leather rider pants and feet in heavy black metal boots, clinking across the ground towards me. His face was hidden beneath his hood. I frowned when I saw a silver-white canary bird perched on his shoulder.
The bird flew towards me and perched on my lap. I realised I had been sitting on the ground with my legs crossed.
”Ooh, like, so cool that you have a manly ego. Like, I'm so chuffed to be your spellbook. I've been wanting to chat with you. Like, you're so s.e.xy when you're with your man and all.” The bird coyly chatted away with a melodic and effeminate voice.
”You're my spellbook?”
”I'm Marilyn.” The bird introduced herself.
I peered at her feathered face of silver-gla.s.s beady eyes, cute gla.s.s beak with a dainty mole to the right side of it. Her body was roundish with frilly sleek feathers that fluffed out every time she moved. The thought of a fluffy white feather boa came to my mind.
”You're a bird.” I raised my brows.
I cursed at the high-pitched squawk she released that pained my ears.
”Like, to call me a bird is so rude. I'm your spellbook.” She huffed, casting her head to one side.
She flew back to the Black Rider's shoulder who had been silently watching our introductions.
I frowned at the Black Rider's lack of image. Why didn't he have a face?
Upon answering my question, his image s.h.i.+mmered and changed without moving. I gasped when I saw the truth of it and a tacky looking one at that.
”How's that?” He smirked with an image of my mouth.
It was like I was staring in a mirror. His black hair was floppy over his expressionless brows. I screwed up my nose at his tacky attire where his rider pants were split into tight boxer shorts and leggings tucked into the black boots.
”What the h.e.l.l are you wearing?” I pointed at his strange, s.h.i.+mmering black tunic with dirty-silver Sacred Word and other unworldly symbols running across the surface and long sleeves.
His hood was replaced with a ridiculously high collar that covered the back of his neck. The tunic was unb.u.t.toned around his chest, so a collar choker could be seen with a symbol of a black five pointed star dangling at the end against his chest.
”Clothes.” He smugly answered back. ”Should I go naked?”