Pose

Pose

         The quiet sound of the rain on the roof brought no comfort.
         I’m alone again…I’ve nothing to do…
         A young man sat in an old wooden chair up against a windowless wall. The room in which he sat was well lit by candles and torches, but maintained a gloomy look. With black hair, pale skin, and dark clothes, a strange contrast was presented in the man’s appearance. His dark blue eyes only aided the strangeness and gave him his own gloomy look.
         It’s so dull here…no one ever visits…
         He let out an irritated sigh and shifted in his seat, resting his cheek in his hand. His home was located between too small villages that often traded with each other, but no one ever gave it much more attention than a glare. For the most part, the villagers ignored him and left him to rot, thinking he deserved such a fate. He wasn’t normal.
         Perhaps my friends are hungry…
         He thought peacefully to himself as he looked over his pale hands and fingers. He’d had no human contact for years, and the friends he referred to were certainly not to be considered normal among the villagers. With a small, child-like smile, he stood and began to cross the room, his black robe sweeping across the floor and spreading some as he moved. Underneath it he wore a loose grey shirt and dark grey pants that appeared to be worn quiet often.
         Before he could reach the heavy wooden door at the room’s opposite end, a noise caught his attention. Knocking? He raised an eyebrow and changed direction, gliding to a door at the right. The sound rang out again, and it was definitely coming from the other side of the door. The young man smirked, cleared his throat, and pulled it open.
         “Hello?” wheezed another man, close to his age. His brown hair was soaking wet, as was the rest of him, and his brown eyes looked tired.
         “Hello…what brings you to my door?”
         “I need…a place to rest for the night. Could I please—?”
         “Say no more. Please, come in,” the black haired youth said kindly, moving to the side and allowing the visitor room to enter. His guest nodded twice quickly and slunk in, his boots and clothes covering the clean wooden floor with mud and water.
         “I’m so sorry for coming to your door this way, but I’ve been walking for miles, and there are no vacancies in the village to the east.”
         “It’s no problem at all. I’ll show you to your room and prepare hot water and food for you.”
         “Thank you,” the visitor said breathlessly with another nod. His host bowed slightly and led him across the room, through an arched entryway and into a long hall littered with doors. They walked on, the guest’s boots making awful sloshing noises, until they reached a similar door near the end of the hall. With a smile, the host opened the room and allowed his guest to enter without a word.
         He watched as the brown haired man began to settle himself before he went back down the hall alone, to retrieve the food and water he had promised. With the black haired man’s absence, the other was free to observe his surroundings.
         The bed was plain with a brown blanket and white pillow, a wooden frame supporting it. He sat down on the edge and looked around at the matching wooden walls, holding a small collection of art. Each piece featured some predatory animal, be it a tiger, bear, or wolf.
         “How wonderful,” he whispered to himself, admiring the beautiful works. Seconds after the words left his mouth, the black haired man returned with a tray holding bread, cheese, ham, milk, and a pitcher of hot water. The tired visitor looked up and smiled gratefully.
         “Here,” the man said, setting the tray on a small wooden nightstand that matched everything else in the room, “make yourself at home. Let me know if you require anything more.”
         “I will. Thanks again,” he said with a bow, taking the bread and starting right away. As quickly as he started his meal, he stopped. “Say, can I ask where you got such wonderful art?”
         “My art?” the host asked with a tilt of his head. “Oh, it’s all my own work.”
         “Your own work?” the guest repeated, surprised. The man now standing in the doorway smiled more.
         “Yes. A hobby of mine.”
         “Wow…it’s absolutely wonderful.”
         “Thank you,” his host said, then left the room quietly, closing the door behind him.
         When the brown haired visitor woke the next morning, he was not laying down. Nor was he in the same room in which he had fallen asleep. In fact, it was as though he were in an entirely different building.
         “What is—what?” he muttered to himself, attempting to move and only finding that he was bound by his wrists to one of the room’s stone walls with rather strong and cold shackles. He blinked in disbelief and tried to pull free, but couldn’t manage, and noted that his ankles were held in the same way. His heart began to pound harder, and he glanced around the new room.
         Unlike the home he had entered before, this room had cold stone walls rather than warm wooden ones, but had many more torches lining them. Between each torch was a framed work of art that appeared similar to the others he had seen. Before he could get a better look, a voice sent his heart into overdrive.
         “Awake, are you?”
         “Wh-ho’s there?” he asked, trying not to stutter as his head snapped back to look forward.
         “Just me,” the voice answered, the black haired youth stepping into the torchlight.
         “Oh,” he sighed with relief, “what’s going on? Can you get me down from here?”
         “I’m afraid not,” he said flatly, shaking his head. “I need you to stay there and help me.”
         “Help you? With what?” the shackled man demanded, worry now clear in his voice.
         “With a few things. But first, what’s your name?”
         “My n-name? It’s Otto.”
         “Otto. Hm.”
         “And yours?” Otto asked hesitantly from his position against the wall.
         “Me? I’m Reyn.”
         “Reyn?” Otto repeated, the name striking something in the recesses of his mind, but he couldn’t grasp what it was supposed to mean.
         “Yes. Well, I must say I was surprised you came to visit me, Otto. But when I saw your interest in my art, I understood.”
         “Your—” Otto started, but he was interrupted when the significance of “Reyn” surfaced in his mind. “Oh my God, you’re that Reyn!”
         “That Reyn?” the pale man repeated, tilting his head. “Have the villagers been telling stories about me?”
         “They say people around you disappeared, and you were finally banished. You went crazy living out in the woods…”
         “Ah, yes. I suppose I am that Reyn. But I’m far from crazy,” the man replied, a smirk tugging at his smile. Otto suddenly seemed to realize that he was in some kind of trouble after all.
         “If you aren’t crazy, what are you doing chaining people to walls?” he asked, growling a little. Reyn raised a brow and a smirk replaced his childish smile.
         “As I said, you showed interest in my art. I want you to assist me on my next work,” he said calmly, a clear contrast to Otto’s shaking voice.
         “Assist you…” he trailed off, turning to get a closer look at the painting nearest him. It was similar to the others in that it featured predatory animals, wolves in this case, but it had one drastic difference. This piece depicted a violent scene where five wolves were tearing at an unidentifiable carcass. Blood was not in any way censored, and the image unnerved Otto to the point of shaking.
         “Why, what’s the matter?” Reyn asked as he looked from Otto to the painting and back.
         “What exactly are you planning to do with me?!” he asked in almost full panic, tugging at his restraints. Reyn blinked and frowned, then smiled and closed his eyes briefly.
         “Well, I need someone to pose for me. I haven’t done one of my signature pieces in some time. I’ve had no one to pose.”
         “Pose for you? Just what—”
         “Easy, my friend. All you need to do is stand where you are. Nothing special is required,” Reyn told him, leaning in a way that resembled a curious bird. Otto didn’t care what “posing” required, he wanted to be free of his shackles and out of Reyn’s sight.
         “I don’t want to pose for you! Let me get out of here, or I swear I’ll—“
         “You’ll what, Otto?” Reyn asked him, standing straight and suddenly looking menacing.
         “Someone will find me here, you can’t get away with whatever you’re planning to do down here! You have to let me go!”
         “I don’t have to let you do anything, Otto,” he said in a particularly nasty tone. “And don’t give me any of that crap about someone coming to your aid. I was doing my best to put up with you, but I’ve had enough. Shut your mouth and let me do what I will.”
         Otto was silent when Reyn finished, and didn’t plan to speak anytime soon. It was as if the young man in front of him had completely changed. He had been calm about everything up to this point, and suddenly, he was seething. Otto had made a mistake.
         “Fool,” Reyn muttered, turning and exiting through a plain wooden door to the far right. It was temporarily quiet in the stone room, and Otto resumed his attempts to break free. A grinding sound was soon added to Otto’s struggling noises and caused him to stop, his eyes focused on the wall across from him.
         A section of stone was rising. It was just off the floor when the shackles holding the unlucky man unlocked and released him. Was he free? Light was coming out from under this moving piece of wall. Sunlight? He could only dare to hope as he steadied his steps and walked forward.
         He wasn’t but a few feet from his chains when shadows moved across the floor, breaking up the light coming from under the secret door. Otto stopped and froze, blocking out the sound of his pounding heart and listening. Whatever the shadows belonged to was growling and snarling. It sounded anxious to enter the room; to reach him. As the door continued rising, Otto stepped away from it.
         “Reyn! REYN!” he called, looking around the room frantically. Where was the man? He could stop this.
         It was made clear that he had no intention of doing so when he stepped back into the room, closing the door and locking it behind him. He was carrying his old wooden chair, and set it down in the corner by the only exit save the one hiding snarling creatures. Otto hesitated and moved toward him, shaking once more. Reyn’s expression was one of contentment and amusement.
         “Reyn! Reyn, please, stop whatever that is!” he pleaded, approaching the black haired man. Reyn simply smiled at him, then turned and looked to the section of wall that had now completely lifted, still smiling.
         “Ah, now we can begin.”
         “Beg-gin?” Otto stuttered, turning to follow Reyn’s gaze. The shadows actually belonged to five large, black, growling wolves. Each one stood in place, halfway into the stone room. “No! Reyn!”
         “Pose,” Reyn said calmly, prompting the wolves into action. Before Otto had a chance to run, all five predators charged and surrounded him. In full panic, he spotted a small gap and attempted running through it, with a negative result. One of the wolves grabbed his leg and another leapt on his back, the third and fourth biting at his head while the fifth grabbed his left arm. He was pulled to the ground without a problem, and the wolves were free to finish their work.
         Reyn watched with amusement, maintaining his smile and composure. Otto shrieked and struggled, making a huge racket along with the growling and snarling wolves, but Reyn didn’t seem to notice. He simply observed and took mental notes, sitting as his friends ripped the man apart.
         The shrieking and growling died down in time, and a bloody scene lay before the black haired, blue eyed youth sitting in the corner. The smile never left his face, and only widened when one of the wolves trotted up to him, a bloody, mangled bone in its mouth. The wolf’s tail swayed from side to side contentedly as he presented the bone to Reyn, who took it and examined it like one would a written note.
         “Hm. This is a great new design. Thank you,” he said in his childish voice, now resumed, as he lightly tossed the bone to the side, where the wolf tackled it.
         Alone again…pity…I guess I’ll get my brush…