Falling Not So Far From The Nest

This is chapter one of Raban's story. It's utter s**t and short, but meh.

Fluchen. I woke up in this s**t-hole of a house again. My heart always seems to sink deeper into darkness whenever the morning sun's rays light up my eyelids. I didn't want to get up, I never do, but (for once in a long while), someone decided to knock on my door.

The knocking was fairly persistent yet broken. I assumed that the being was either exhausted from their trip here, or they were just pathetically weak. With a long, deep, sigh, I threw on my bed-side robe and fumbled to the door. I slicked my hair back with my thin fingers only to have my hair fall back over my eyes when the sun hit my face. The man at the door was young and obnoxiously peppy. I suppose my second guess was correct; he had the body of an ill imp. With a smile, he handed me a rather elegant-looking scroll. I gave him a look that for some reason made him chuckle. "You speak common, 'ight?" I tilted my head at his missing "R." Slowly, I opened my mouth to speak, but, instead, I sighed and simply nodded. He chuckled again. "Good, 'cause you'll be speaking a lot soon, lad!" I rolled my eyes and shut the door. As I was returning to bed, I heard the imp-man yell "good day," which made an annoyed groan escape my mouth.

I left the scroll atop my mahogany nightstand so it would eventually catch my fancy. Usually curiosity would overtake my soul and I would be clawing off the deep-crimson seal, but for some reason I dreaded the information it held. My bony fingers curled through my messy hair as I attempted to psych myself up. Eventually, with a groan, I grabbed the scroll and quickly unraveled it. After scanning its contents, I crumpled it up and tossed it near my wastebasket (I'm too lazy to empty it, so it just rolled off the top). Groaning again and much louder than before, I threw my goose-feather pillow over my face and sighed. Buer strolled over to the parchment and began pawing at it lightly; unrolling the letter slowly. "Buer! Stoppen sie die bildlauf berühren, für fickt willen!" The "cat" mewed sadly then jumped onto my bed. Gently, I caressed his ash colored fur and sighed.

Buer started to tell me off for my unreasonable reaction. His sass-filled meows caused me to laugh rather loudly. Startled by my boisterous cackle, the fallen angel jumped slightly and silenced himself for a moment. After a few minutes of emptiness, Buer raised his words. "You're fearful." "Now why would you assume that, pal?" I sat up quickly and stared into his cold eyes. They seemed to glow with a peaceful strictness that I never noticed before. "Well, my mortal keeper, you're seemingly hiding from some silly words on a piece of parchment. Perhaps if I read the letter, I would understand your reaction." I laid back down and signed for him to get it. His misty hand slowly reached down and grabbed the scroll; his single wing spread frosty air over me as I waited. "I will begin packing." I growled slightly. "I refuse to leave my house." I closed my eyes and tried my best to not think about the "others." Buer had ceased moving; his silence made me fearful. "Must I play the roll of your mother?" "No..." "Then shut the hell up, and don't you dare groan or sigh." In response, I did both. I heard his knuckles crack, and I quickly mumbled out an apology.