He sat across the tree and began to do what he did best. Usually in animals since they don't question a sudden change of heart. He lured them with the smell of his soul. His consciousness was not like any other, it withheld erotism and sweetness. Animals reached in, not for the warmth that a running red liquid brings, but for the golden string that connects fair shells to the goddess's coveted gift.
The last time he had used his quirk with the purpose of favoring himself was in elementary school.
Back then he was known for having ants running up his cheeks. That's what a girl told her friends.
"I sat next to him in the garden, and noticed his hair was infested with bugs. He was unfaced. When I stood up, he pulled my hand and asked; Do you hate me?"
She didn't hate him, she was disgusted by him, but Faolán was young, and he was unclear of the difference. He approached a boy his age with a ladybug on his fingernail. He thought he would like it, the boy started walking away from him. He ran towards him and held his hand up to his chest.
"Do you want to hold my hand?" Faolán's eyes were usually light brown, but at that time, the boy said they looked golden. The boy was unable to look away. Instead, he was hypnotized by him.
He walked with him everywhere. Not forced by him, instead it seemed he had a sudden change of heart. He was unusually clingy.
Faolán used his quirk on them as if it were a simple greeting, unapologetically bewitching. But he knew it was wrong, so he kept it a secret. The kids' heart fluttered when he was near, and he was drawn to their bittersweet acts of love. Sudden kisses on his face, tongue intrusive attacks, or even physically crushing waves of affection, he indulged everything.
He began collecting friends as easy as he did with the first boy. Looking into their eyes with golden chains. Tying them up on his back unaware of the harm.
Every boy his age chased him around school; some chased him to his house. Flattering but dangerous for them. Girls and boys confessed. He was gifted pet's every day. Ducks, birds, butterflies, all beautiful, all dead. As time went by, he noticed how emotionally unstable they were. The dryness a smile from them left behind. As if they were running out of love to give.
He walked towards the sunset holding a boy's hand. Skipping down the hills pulling his arm with eager joy. The boy's fingers untightened around his as they advanced, but Faolán only pulled harder. His breath shallow, his heartbeat ringing on his ears. The boy's eyes glittered with tears; Faolan kissed his forehead with love only to hold his cold body drop.
Faolán had learned he could not interfere with their feelings without causing withdrawal. He promised he wouldn't do it again although he would find himself in situations where he knew he could make it easier if he just did.
When Faolán first met Cirrus, he realized the overall smell of his soul was sour. He was icked by such raw smell, pouring out in presence, impossible to ignore. He was heard of around; Obnoxious and petulant. He thought that matched his smell.
He was outcasted and tarnished for none other than false preconceived thoughts and opinions. They said, "the intention he held against people, not friendly mannered but instead inauspicious." As if his every attempt for conversation was a calculated ominous act. In reality, he was a sad child whom Faolán later approached out of pity. Cirrus was his first true friend, and he was sure that was true, because his smell never turned sweet.
Faolán can smell your personality which has a direct link to your soul. Stolas smells your shell, if you were made out of fair land or waste. For stolas Cirrus smells like the sun and cinnamon, a smell he considers fair, on the contrary, puppets smell like spoiled milk.
Lately, if he wanted to induce some sort of favoritism, looking into their eyes was the easiest way, but they could be influenced by just standing close to him. The longer the better, but it also depended on their mental strength or how willing were they to cooperate.
He wondered if the trees were sensitive for a particular reason.
He noticed a sudden change although he couldn't be sure of what it was. He turned his face towards the chatter. A dagger rushed through the branches towards him. He held his breath stunned but it remained still centimeters away from his eyes.
Daelan ran towards him, Morgan behind him.
Faolán shut his eyes changing viewpoints with whatever animal he could find. He changed from unfocused blurry images to red, green and blue tones. He found him.
A boy their age. Morgan's barrier kept him from entering in a radius of 20 meters. The daggers continued to thrust inside with no issues.
Faolán wondered if they were being hunt or chased out private territory. He wondered if there was a punishment for intruders. He wondered if he could earn their favor by showing interest in their wellbeing.
"Don't let them hurt the trees!" Faolán yelled. The less damage they allowed the easier they could advocate for themselves.
The metal from which they were made, easily dissolved as it entered Daelan's controlled space which was much smaller than Morgan's. One by one turned to dust except for some that pierced the trees before he could do anything.
"They won't help if I continue to hold the curtain, they can't hear us or sense any harm in our bodies." Morgan said out of breath, the curtain continued to fail to keep them from any hostility.
"Then let it down. I can fight him for as long as they can get here" Daelan said out of breath. Faolán ran out the controlled area in the opposite direction to Daelan, confident he could interfere with his mind if he were to attack him.
Morgan levitated the loose rocks and leaves laying on the ground with a gust of wind, creating a thin layer of minerals Daelan could clearly feel every movement around him without his eyes.
When the curtain fell off completely, the daggers seized. Instead, the boy jumped in front of Daelan with a scythe, too large for mowing grass. He swinged it around with one hand aiming for his head. Too clumsy for a clean cut, instead, Daelan carried the blade to a full circle while the boy continued to trip him to the ground.
The boy stumped his feet on the ground with the delicacy of a petal. As strong as a ship but as agile as a feather being carried away by the wind. He sliced open the air, firmly but aimlessly. His eyes were unfocused, almost like a sleeping persons' with his eyes wide open.
On the outside, Mo continued to ley on the ground listening to the whispers of the guys around the fire.
"When Faolán returns, we might have to start our journey again" Cirrus said with his eyes fixated on the flames.
Mo Turned rapidly as if he had just been slapped across the face. "Are you finally going to tell us why the hell we are still here?"
The earth shook vigorously, and the smell of a puppet rushed out in the form of a scream. Cirrus turned to stolas at once.