Qvinten
Legacy Name: Qvinten

Stats

Qvinten
The Hydrus Keeto
Owner: Alixx

Age: 23
Height: 6'2" / 188 cm
Weight: 150lbs / 468kg
Hair: Teal
Eyes: Rose

Story

Dearest Amary,
All my life I have strived to be a good force in the world…

Portugal. South America. Turkey. Greece. Presently, Thailand.

The thoughts he had conveyed to his closest friend remained on his mind long after the words had flowed out onto notebook paper tattered by sweat, humidity, and dust, delivered all the way to her perfect, delicate hands in an alien place he once called home -- New York, the United States, the developed world. The unforgiving summer sun had set an hour ago, yet the heat lingered with the humidity so that his clothes stuck to his skin. He heard the clicking of a gecko perched somewhere outside his well-worn tent, duct-tape the only barrier between him and the mosquitos in some places where the seams had been torn.

Sitting criss-crossed on his sleeping bag, Quinten squinted to see in the dying candle light, his fingers following the lines of words in his book as if by touching them he could read them better. This tent, which had been his home wherever he traveled for the past two years, was barely big enough to fit his sleeping bag, backpack, and various other traveling supplies, but Quin had long learned to live a nomadic life filled with nothing more than bare necessities. He had patched homes, dug wells, volunteered in small local businesses, helped out wherever he could and however he could as a tourist in lands far from home. He felt he belonged both nowhere and everywhere, now.

But lately, he’d felt as if he was being followed.

It wasn’t something he could explain. Even underneath the sweltering tropical sun he would sometimes get sudden chills, a shocking cold deep inside his bones, some times worse than others. The two very worst times this had happened his visioned had filled with black smoke, just after he had exchanged glances with a very familiar figure. Where he knew this man from he couldn’t recall, and why a mere glance affected him in such a physically violent manner he wasn’t sure, but each time he thought of this man he was reminded of a recurring nightmare he’d had as a child -- yet how they could be connected, he remained bewildered.

Just slightly too heavy a breath caused his candle to finally die out, and Quin reluctantly accepted that his reading would be cut short for the evening. Yet for a moment he didn’t move, and it was only after a few seconds that he realized the hair on the back of his neck had begun to prickle -- a chill had begun to creep into his bones, and his eyes widened in horror in the dark.

He felt a chilled breath slide across face, and something overwhelmingly cold reach to touch his bare stomach. He wildly scanned the dark before him, his body otherwise frozen in place, as this time he heard a soft breath and again felt the cold against his lips.

A manic smile began to spread across Atalo’s face, his body dematerializing into a smoky blackness below his waist, though Quinten couldn’t see him at all. A nightmare now somehow present in corporeal form, Atalo felt the warmth of Quinten’s body against his fingertips and waves of ecstasy surged through his provisional body. All he needed was half a heart.

Quinten managed barely a whisper. “Who...are you?”

Atalo’s eyes blazed with delight -- so the boy could see him? “Don’t be afraid,” he replied, his icy cold touch holding his prey captive. A small smile lingered as he brought his lips mere millimeters away from those of the boy before him.

“I am Atalo. I will do anything for you.”