Prompt: 002. Terror in the night
Fandom: Changeling: The Lost
Characters: William Blake
Word Count: 807
Author's Note: I'm actually not REALLY happy with this one, mostly because I can't find a good way to describe William's powers. Not to mention, I also exaggerated them a little. He isn't able to do all this in the role-play (or, at least, not without draining himself of magic), but…well, I always have a tendency to exaggerate characters' powers for cool effects in writing. This is why I would make a TERRIBLE film director.
William would never have thought that his power would be the control of darkness. He supposed it made sense, in a way, considering how much time he spent curled up in dark alcoves, praying that the shadows would hide him. But it wasn't like it had ever worked out for him.
So, ithad startled him when he realised just how useful this power was in the human world.
He stood at his customary position, on the far side of the room, with his back against the wall, and scanned his surroundings. All a human would have seen was complete and utter darkness, but William wasn't blinded by the lack of light. He let out a breath and let himself melt into the shadows, feeling them throb and vibrate around him, drawing out the smooth walls, the four rows of florescent lights, the soft fabric of the black curtains, and the shape of the wooden door that lead to the outside.
This job had been, in all senses of the term, a god-send to him.
He was just getting desperate and actually contemplating owing Joanna even more to secure food, when he had been offered it. He accepted without hesitation. After all, it could only do him good to practice the use of his powers, the pay was fantastic…and, well, a myriad of other benefits that he didn't really want to think about.
There was a small – very small – part of him that was annoyed that his powers, gained after centuries of torture and torment, a sign of his monstrosity, were being used as a mere parlour trick. And it was slightly upsetting that, all day now, he had to be constantly reminded just how unhuman he was. But he fastidiously ignored those parts.
He couldn't afford to give up this job, no matter what. Owing anyone was a danger he was not about to brave right now.
The curtains rustled silently, the non-existent sound echoing through the darkness.
Automatically, he concentrated his powers, shrouding himself and the visitor in darkness.
He carefully approached the man, muffling the sound of his footsteps with another small expenditure of power, and launched into the usual displays; commanding the darkness to well up and dance and weaving around the man in complex patterns that he couldn't possibly understand, pressing upon and around him like an invisible and immaterial prison, crashing down like a tidal wave…experimentally, he sent out little tendrils that ran lightly up the man's arms and the back of his neck.
Predictably, the man froze, as everyone did, and darted his eyes about the absolute darkness. He was sweating profusely and his hands were shaking by his side, sending tiny tremors rippling through the shadows.
The darkness rose again and murmured in his ear, wreathing itself around him, and William could tell that what only comforted him was driving this man to new heights of terror.
The emotion leaked off of him in palpable waves and William could barely suppress the gasp of wonder that almost escaped his lips. Instinctively, he drew upon the emotion, absorbing it and feeling the invigoration that it brought spread throughout his being.
The emotion that had once haunted and hunted him like the Hounds had now become his chief source of sustenance.
The irony was not lost on him.
The man's knees were buckling now, and the waves of fear surged and rippled, and William couldn't help but grin.
He stopped in front of the man, their faces mere inches apart, and, with a flourish, banished the darkness, allowing the harsh, artificial light of the florescent tubes to fill the room.
Then, just as quickly, he plunged the room back into darkness, allowing only enough light to guide the man to the exit.
Melting into the shadows, he stood back and watched the man scuttle away, stumbling and trembling with fear.
He wondered, briefly, what had prompted this man to come to the Carnival - what made him approach the haunted house. Did he have a family? Or was he here with friends? Did he have a daughter, a wife, someone he could recount his brush with the shadows to? Did he have friend to whom he could swear that this was the best haunted house he'd ever been in? Would they ridicule him? In a few years time, would he still remember? Would he bring his daughter here next year?
But those thoughts could not benefit him.
Feeling the new power generated by the man's fear nestling in his stomach, William turned, took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders.
The day was not over and he still had his duties to fulfil.
And he needed to do this all over again tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that…
Until his services were no longer required.