Old People Smell [Private/Yaksha]

Yaksha watched the quincy, seeing that they had indeed taken the bait, and let themselves get riled up.  He couldn't deny he'd felt some impulse to flex just the tiniest bit, perhaps most importantly because he'd already proven he could take Abel's blows without much fuss.  And yet there was something about the boy that had so very easily endeared him to Yaksha.  He let the quincy start walking away before he ever so slowly rose his hands to his mouth, speaking in what should've by all accounts been little more than a mild shout.  All the same, it seemed to insinuate itself along the winds, hitting Abel's ear almost as if Yaksha were standing right next to him.

"You are known to me, Abel Delacroix!  Don't be surprised when next we meet.  I'll be ready for you, and I can only hope the same will apply to you as well."  He let the words hang for just a moment longer, before turning away and hooking a finger through the air; with the same ease one would slice open a piece of paper using a sharp pair of scissors, Yaksha Dokuja parted the veil between worlds, pausing only long enough to form one last thought.  He wasn't entirely sure the quincy would be able to hear, but it wasn't for his benefit so much as Yaksha's own.

"You were wrong about one thing, Abel."

"I did choose this life for myself.  I chose it when I ripped my own chain of fate out with my bare hands."

[Thread End]