Hector- Vile

“Mud sticks. Your reputation is already in pieces. A rumor could destroy you, let alone something that truly happened, Piggy!”

Hector’s mind clouded quickly, ears thrumming as a headache struck out of nowhere. Everything in the room shifted and faded as his thoughts focused on Ringlin. Hector found his left hand rising from beneath his cloak with a will of its own, black-gloved fingers reaching across the table. Immediately he felt the vile disengage, leaping across the table and slithering around Ringlin’s throat like a black noose. Instantly the rogue’s eyes widened and his mouth stopped flapping, his hands shooting to his neck.

“Don’t call me that.”

Hector heard his voice as if a stranger had said the words. It was deep, alien, but it had come from his mouth. As he realized something awful was happening his ears popped, the sound in the room returning instantly. The vile was suddenly back on his shoulder, its grip on Ringlin released. The man fell forward, spluttering as he tried to gather his composure. Hector shook his head, trying to straighten his senses, hurriedly bringing his gloved hand back below the table. Ibal watched the two of them with wide eyes, his giggling silenced for once.

B2 P4 C5