Danse Macabre has a minion!

Minion the Akunda

Danse Macabre

The Glacier Harvester
Owner: Pokuu

Age: 7 years, 2 months, 2 weeks

Born: April 6th, 2011

Adopted: 7 years, 2 months, 2 weeks ago

Adopted: April 6th, 2011


  • Level: 7
  • Strength: 10
  • Defense: 13
  • Speed: 10
  • Health: 13
  • HP: 13/13
  • Intelligence: 0
  • Books Read: 0
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Unemployed

Do you want to remember?

The answer was yes. It was always yes. But every time the question flitted through his mind, he couldn't hold on to it long enough before it left his mind. The music was there again.

He shut his eyes. It was calm. Slow. He could form thoughts. The soothing tones danced through his mind and relaxed him. The question no longer mattered. It never mattered. It couldn't be important if he couldn't remember it. He couldn't remember anything. Only the music was important. David let go of the worry and drifted away.


Do you remember me?

The answer was no. It was always no. The boy stood in the doorway of David's room and formed the question with lips no sound could escape from. Pale wasn't the right word. White. All white and gray and you're not supposed to be here David wanted to shout. But he couldn't. The music was changing. Faster. Deeper. Heavier and louder. It was time again. It was always near time that the boy was able to appear. But David couldn't think of it anymore. He had to follow the music. He knew what time it was.


Let me go.

But David couldn't answer. He didn't hear the question. His focus was on the man in the center of the room, crying. He was pleading. For mercy, perhaps, from either David or God. But it didn't matter. David couldn't understand it. The music was playing, insisting, demanding. He followed, there was no other path. His flesh was barely there, insubstantial. It had lent its substance to the woman walking towards the man. Spirit made flesh, if only briefly. If only for this. The woman was crying. David could tell that. Just like the man, because of the man. Because of what the man was making her do. Because of what the man was making David make her do. But the man shouldn't have done it. David didn't know what it was. But he shouldn't have done whatever it was, because it was making David do this.

Please, David imagined the man pleading. He couldn't quite tell. And he couldn't acquiesce. The music wouldn't let him, and he needed the music.

Please, David knew the woman was pleading. But he couldn't listen. He could have chosen another, but they would have pleaded just the same.

Now, David commanded her silently. There was no choice. So she did.


“Is it wise?”

The good doctor asked Eric. Neither man acknowledged David. He waited in the corner, silent, complacent. The music was soothing, now. He concentrated on it. He would be alerted when his presence was needed.

“It's art,” Eric said. The man, the same from the room, stood in front of the two men. His body was not here, it was somewhere well hidden or well disposed of, David didn't know which. He had almost wondered, before the music distracted him. It didn't matter now, though. The man belonged to David, and David belonged to Eric.


Don't dream

The music commanded him. But it was hard to obey the music when he slept. David hated dreaming. The music, most of the time, could protect him. Keep him locked in oblivion until the morning. Until he was needed. But sometimes his mind escaped the music. Sometimes he almost remembered. A woman with soft hands kissing his forward. A large man wrapping him in a hug. A boy that looked just like him punching his shoulder. It should have been happy. It always ended in flames.


Do you want to remember?

The answer was yes, but still David said no. The ghosts were his to command. They could not question him without his consent. He would not give it, so the questions did not happen. Only the vague sense of unease. Only the feeling as though he should know. It could be important. But the question scared him. He could barely remember pain, but the music gave him solace. The music told him it was okay. The music would protect him.


“Do you know who I am?”

Eric had asked him this before. It was hard to hear him above the music, but it was the only voice David could. The music was slow and harmless. David nodded.

“Eric,” David said. He wanted to concentrate on the music. He wanted to keep the boy away. He could feel him just at the edge of his mind. Fighting. David didn't like fighting. It was more pleasant to just give in.


“I saved you.”

The good doctor whispered into his ear. David didn't answer. He was sure the doctor had. If he concentrated, right now, when the music was low, he could remember bits. Pain, but he thought through that. There was always pain. There was not always this rare time to think, with the music so low. The doctor had seen his curse. Had seen the ghosts, had seen David's mistakes. And he had fixed them. He had fixed David. Eric had made sure of that. Eric knew how to make the mistakes stop. David just had to trust Eric. Had to trust Eric's doctor.


“You're a piece of art.”

Eric praised him. David had added a new one to their collection. A new one who had crossed Eric, who would work off their debt with their death. They hadn't known how in life, but Eric would teach them through their death. He would teach them through David, who controlled them. He would teach them through David, who he controlled.


Do you remember me?

The boy asked again. The boy was always asking. David turned away from the doorway. He didn't like when the boy got through. Didn't like when he could remember the boy's name. He didn't like the way Darren looked just like he had, when David was twelve. He didn't like that he no longer looked just like Darren. It was an accident, he wanted to yell. I never wanted any of you to die, he wanted to plead like his ghosts would plead with him. But he couldn't. The music was growing loud again. He had to obey the music.

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