Charmer
Legacy Name: Charmer

Darian lay motionless in his bed, staring intensely at the girl tending to his feet.

"They're fine," he insisted but she wouldn't meet his accusatory stare. She simply continued removing tiny shards from his feet.

The girl took a handkerchief to his wound, dabbing up the final drops of blood, then bandaged them gingerly.



"I can't believe it," she muttered to herself. "Just can't believe it." She paused and solemnly looked into his eyes –– an almost dismal attraction faintly present as she rose and stood near his bedside. She noticed his face; it was an incriminating countenance, yet somehow stolid. Not as if he had just run two miles through a bloody forest.

"Your name is Darian?" she asked, her gaze lightly stroking his.

"That's what my parents told me," he replied in a somewhat monotonous manner. She could tell he was being sarcastic. If it weren't for his parents he wouldn't be here right now in his current condition. He was clad entirely in black; a suit that complimented his slender figure. His hair was an obviously dyed, unnatural shade of blonde that violently disagreed with the cooling hue of his faded eyebrows. He stared at her with great interest. He leaned back in the bed, head tilted up slightly, but his piercing blue-eyed gaze still lied upon her. A satisfied look settled on his face. He smiled, further enforcing the cheekbone shadows while displaying rather long teeth.

Darian had always been shrouded in an eerie calm that made him nearly impossible to decipher. Even in his youth he seemed sequestered. He drove himself to learn and became enthralled in the beauty of literature and the women he courted. He was a daring romantic.

The only reason he left his house was to buy drugs. He was home alone because his mom went off with her boyfriend in Colorado for the weekend, so he got to watch the animals and housesit. He needed two kinds of drugs. One, Sertraline, an anxiety medication, legally prescribed, and two, some sweet, sweet Mary J.

He couldn't remember what happened after he left the house.

Still, none of this personality seeped through into this current situation, as the girl seemed to take no interest in anything other than tending to his feet. When she had finished, she left the room immediately, leaving him in silence and bathed in the warm light radiating from her residual presence.