Information



Koan
Legacy Name: Koan


The Galactic Jollin
Owner: Fiore

Age: 17 years, 3 months, 3 weeks

Born: December 3rd, 2006

Adopted: 17 years, 3 months, 3 weeks ago (Legacy)

Adopted: December 3rd, 2006 (Legacy)

Statistics


  • Level: 1
     
  • Strength: 10
     
  • Defense: 10
     
  • Speed: 10
     
  • Health: 10
     
  • HP: 10/10
     
  • Intelligence: 1
     
  • Books Read: 1
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Unemployed


It was one of the higher-end department stores, the kind where every tag bore the name of a famous designer or movie star. Most of the shoppers went there to wistfully eye the luxurious sweaters and tasteful accessories they could never afford. Koan went there to buy.

The store clerks always gave him sideways looks until his credit card cleared. His long blonde hair was confined in a black tie that perfectly matched his jacket. It was a cool jacket, the kind that male models wear as they laugh at something the cute cheerleader beside them just said, not some lame-ass rag off a three-piece suit. Koan hated wearing suits. The red silk shirt beneath starkly contrasted his pale skin and drew attention to eyes that were exactly the color of the heart of a flawless emerald.

He held up a gray shirt with slender red stripes, putting it back with a grimace. Stripes were so last season. The gray one with round silver buttons was more promising. "Hey man, what do you think?" Koan admired his reflection in the mirror as he looked to his friend.

Kyeran scowled and poked him in the head. "Shut up, stupid. I came along to look at comic books, not to be your fashion advisor."

"Maybe you should try it on. It would go great with your complexion."

Kyeran was not amused. He gave Koan another poke for being a wise ass and turned his back. Hunching his shoulders, he wandered toward the shoe department and plopped down on a bench. His turquoise-streaked black hair was his least noticeable feature when human eyes fell on his gray skin and the double horns set just above his pointed ears. It was not every day a demon left the depths of the Underground to consort with humans. Kyeran didn't even notice the looks anymore.

Koan moved on to the next rack, scoring two more finds. He was looking at watches when a loud series of thumps drew his gaze in Kyeran's direction.

The salesman stuttered apologies to the old woman he'd hit on the head with a shoebox. The rest of his stack was scattered on the floor in a rainbow assortment of high heels and fuzzy boots.

Koan caught Kyeran's eye as his friend snickered behind his upraised hand. How convenient that some customer had left a pair of boots directly in the salesman's path. He wouldn't say anything, though. The man wasn't hurt and the old woman's face was pretty hilarious. Koan pointed to a gold watch striped with silver, tucking his newest purchase into a bag already stuffed with clothes. Carrying shopping bags was the one form of exercise Koan didn't object to.

Kyeran sprang to his feet as Koan approached. "I'm starving. Let's blow this dump."

The food court was just starting to fill up. Koan went to order while Kyeran found them a table. He ordered a Papa Itali's Deep Dish Meat Feast Pizza. The 20-minute wait would be worth it but he also bought a corn dog for his friend. Kyeran could get really pissy when he was hungry.

Koan settled into one of the ugly red plastic chairs, fishing his headphones out of his backpack. He had all the latest gadgets but good headphones were his weakness. He had a pair in every color and style ever made. His favorite pair, the ones he carried with him at all times, were engraved with his name in an elegant gold script. They also had excellent sound quality. The deep notes of a bass began to thrum in his ears.

He recognized the Pops as they claimed a table next to the display case filled with plastic trees. They were always shooting him looks and whispering to each other. He didn't care. They were snobby, spoiled brats more concerned with the popularity game than looking their best. Some of their outfits were so gag-worthy it was almost funny.

A girl with bleached blonde curls delivered their pizza, giving Koan a wide smile at his generous tip. Kyeran polished off six slices to Koan's two.

Koan ate with care, taking the time to fold a napkin in his lap and to pinch off those blobs of sausage that threatened to fall on his spotless outfit. He looked up from nibbling the cheesy edge off his second crust. Kyeran's slices were fully devoured and he was sucking a hard candy of some kind. Koan didn't have to look farther than the pair of crying children being dragged away by irritated parents to know the source. He gave his friend a look but said nothing. Kyeran bared his fangs in a grin, sticking out his blue-stained tongue.

Koan made it a point to end such shopping trips at the comic book store. It was about the only thing his friend had in common with children. Give Kyeran something to look forward to and he would make an effort to behave. Sort of.

Koan went directly to the bin of Marvel comics. Could it be? Yes! Issue #24 of The Amazing Spider-Man. The one where Mysterio manages to convince Spider-Man that he's insane.

He'd been looking for this issue for months and it was finally his. He picked up a few new releases and moved on to the figurines. The guy behind the counter eyed his clothes with a combination of awe and suspicion. Poor guy had clearly never heard of zit cream. Koan reached into his back pocket, coming up with nothing.

"Looking for this, dumbass?" Kyeran slapped Koan's wallet on the counter hard enough to rattle the glass. The clerk's eyes scanned the collectibles within, obviously fearing for their safety. Kyeran already had a bag stuffed with graphic novels and a poster of a demoness clutching a whip. Koan paid for his items, letting Kyeran take the lead as they stepped out into the street.

They could not reach their mansion home without passing the shadowed entrance of Underground. Koan brought his scooter to a stop, gazing with awe at the grotesque statutes to either side. Children could feign ignorance to the posted warning signs but the youngest toddler could hardly ignore the giant red sign with red skull and crossbones. Kyeran scowled and revved his engine, reaching out to poke Koan in the ribs since his head was protected by a helmet. Kyeran never wore a helmet. "Stop daydreaming, idiot. Let's go home." He fiddled with the inverted cross hanging from his left ear. "I hate this place."

Koan followed reluctantly, his memory of the first encounter with Kyeran coming back like a rerun seen too many times yet irresistible to watch.

*****

Koan's parents entrusted him to sitters, maids, and nannies. When he wanted a toy, he got it. If he'd had the ambition to hunt down a box of matches he could have burnt the house down and they'd take no notice. There was only one thing he'd been forbidden to do. He must never, ever bring shame to the family name.

Once when he was three he had been running among the guests at one of his mother's fabulous roostertail parties. He'd tripped over the folds of a lady's dress and smacked his head against a table leg. All the guests had looked in his direction to determine which of their number was gutting a cat.

His mother ran forward to snatch him up. She hurried him from the room, taking care not to get blood on her sparkly ivory dress. Just before she handed him off to Nana Green, she gave him a look that redoubled his sobs.

It was the same look he'd once seen her give a snake sunning on the patio before she ordered the gardener to kill it.

Three years later his father had the butler give him a good spanking for leaving his soggy swimming trunks laying in the sitting room, in plain view of guests. Koan snuck out while his parents were hosting a party for some foreign ambassador. He left a note of apology to Nana Wilson in his crappy first grade handwriting. He didn't bother to leave one for his parents.

He strutted past the red skull but could not bring himself to pass beneath the archway that would admit him to the underground. He stood frozen, eyes drawn to a red neon sign he could not read, until a voice in his ear caused him to jump.

"You must be stupid even for a human."

Kyeran's orphan status won him nothing but contempt from his own people. He took in Koan's expensive clothes and backpack. He was tired of surviving off the scraps that even the scrag beasts wouldn't touch and this kid actually smelled like money.

The ambassador's wife fainted at the sight of Kyeran but the ambassador himself had some experience with demons and congratulated Koan's parents on being the first to tame one. They let Kyeran stick around after that.

"Hey stupid, we're home."

*****

Koan cut his engine, leaving his scooter in the driveway. The servants knew to have it polished and ready each morning and the gas tank was never allowed to dip below half. Koan had never worked a gas pump though his father owned one or two. He wasn't even entirely sure where the garage was on the sprawling estate spread over forty acres.

There was a platter of PB&J sandwiches set up on the kitchen counter, cut diagonally and with the crusts removed, just the way he liked them.

He had tried to cook his own breakfast once when the cook took a sick day and the other servants weren't in sight. The fire chief still liked to joke with his father that it was fortunate Cook kept three fire extinguishers and the maids knew how to use them.

Kyeran dumped his bags in his own room, grabbing one of the new novels and throwing himself on Koan's bed. Koan passed the pile of discarded clothing on the floor. The cleaning maid had not yet come to collect them. Koan made it very clear to new hires that these were the rejects, the items he could not be seen twice in. Not that he usually wore those outfits he did keep many times, but he refused to be seen in fashion rejects or to allow such abominations to take up space next to those items that received his approval.

He hung up the new shirts in their designated places. His organization system was intricate, every item color-coordinated and sorted by his level of preference.

"Hey idiot, when you get tired of playing dress-up, come check this out. This guy actually draws us without those stupid, cheesy grins. He even left off the pitchforks." Kyeran grinned as Koan's eyes lingered on a demoness with a snake tattoo. "Don't get too attached, dumbass. She'd eat you alive."

Koan looked away, blushing fiercely as Kyeran laughed. Human girls were confusing enough.

"Let's watch a movie. A real movie, not one of your stupid kiddie ones. It's no wonder human children are such idiots." Kyeran pulled the case from behind his back. "I picked it up on the black market while you were sleeping. What do you say, human? Think you can handle it?

Koan didn't really want to sit through another two-hour screeching death match but he had no counteroffer. Kyeran almost always decided what they should do until Koan got the urge to go shopping. "Bring it on, imp."

Kyeran barely looked at the screen. He was too busy enjoying the play of emotions on Koan's face.

Story by Pureflower

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