"There are three kinds of powers we can develop, though since you're from the original line of Deaths, it's likely you've got all of them. You've already been introduced to all three of them, actually - The Tearson brothers each had a different one." Johnathan drew a triangle on his chalkboard. I was reclining across a couch, not to interested. But I had asked him to go over this stuff with me - I needed to know it anyway and there was nothing else to do since I couldn't stand for more then thirty seconds on my own.
"I assumed as much." I muttered. He nodded, and continued.
"Mind is least common, and works by influencing certain emotions or feelings so much that it becomes almost like physically controlling people," He drew an M at one of the triangle's points, "It's done through touching certain areas or saying certain words. Which one depends on the Alvaros, but most just use which ever is convenient.
"Reanimation is the most common, as evidenced by the duels. It gives the user control over the body of anything that was once alive, but only so many can be controlled at once, and the farther away one is from what they're controlling, the more difficult to keep up the spell. It's done in practically whatever way the Alvaros wants." That time was an R.
"And the last is strength. It has limited usage, but plenty usability. They're stronger then ten of themselves at once, basically." Johnathan drew an S at the last point of the triangle, "It's rumored that there's a fourth type of power, but that's about all there is. Prophetic abilities are argued as one too, but since a Prophetic Demon always has one of these three powers as well, it's not generally accepted as one." He set the chalk down and turned to me. "Get all that?"
"Generally, yes," I sighed, and grabbed at the air in an experiment. As I expected, the crystal scythe formed in my grasp. Johnathan flinched, but I just shrugged. "At least it's not burning me anymore. In fact..."
"Most of the weapons we use are Alvaros artifacts, which come with certain energies that tend to burn if the wielder isn't an Alvaros themselves." Johnathan mused, staring at the scythe. Alvaros was the proper term that'd been commonly replaced with Demon. Johnathan refused to call the race anything but that, and it was actually slightly comforting not to call myself a Demon. I took a deep breath and absent-mindedly swung the scythe around. Johnathan stepped up and caught it so I didn't accidentally slice him in two.
"What?" I moaned.
"Hear that slight squeak?" He asked. I nodded. "The Tearson brothers are coming over the drawbridge. Meldor's gait is unmistakable, not to mention Trian's saunter. Arith, on the other hand, could sneak up on anyone without making a sound." He chortled a bit, and turned to the door, letting go of the scythe. "Should I welcome them or send them off?" He asked as he stepped out.
"Whatever." I mumbled. Johnathan smiled and disappeared down the hall out of the room's door. I sighed again, and set the crystal scythe down. Mulling over memories, I picked one out that seemed interesting. Famine claims I summoned him, right? Maybe if I try-
"Can I help you, Rea-Siterra?" Famine's voice sent a jolt up my spine, and I twisted from the couch to face him. He stepped over to the blackboard and picked up the chalk, took one look at the triangle, and drew a nonagon around it, then dropped the chalk back where it was, satisfaction crossing his face as he turned to me.
"Whoa. I can't believe that worked." I mumbled. Famine shrugged.
"I had nothing else to do." He came over and grabbed the end of the flesh part in one of my wings, and pulled the wing out to it's full length. I spread out the other to make it so it didn't hurt.
"You could use a prune." Famine brushed his fingers through my feathers. For some reason, it didn't feel creepy anymore. A thought crept up in the back of my mind and found it's way out of my mouth.
"You're my great-uncle, aren't you?" It felt strange to say. Famine dropped my wing for a few seconds, only to snatch it back up.
"What makes you say that?"
"You've already said that Death is your brother. And that I'm of horsemen blood. It only makes sense that you'd be my multiple-great-uncle." I rested my head in my hands. Famine sighed.
"You're quite the intelligent one, Va-Rea-Siterra." The way he said it sent a shiver down my spine. I'd heard it said in a similar way before - just before went comatose that night. Then, however, it made me feel warm inside.
"What does that mean? Vaw Ray Sit-." Famine chuckled at my attempt.
"Va-Rea-Siterra. It's mine and the other horsemen's first language. However, You'll have to figure out what it means yourself." He shot me a crooked grin and plucked a feather from my wing. I flinched, but realized that it actually felt better that way. Famine continued to pluck small feathers from my wing, pocketing them. I didn't ask why he was doing it, or why he was saving them, for fear it'd be something that made me freak out even more. After all, it felt nice. He brushed my feathers out and smoothed them down, then moved on over the wing. It felt so good, even, that I caught myself starting to drift off a few times while he worked.
"Well, child? Is there anything else I can do for you?" He mused, brushing his fingers in-between my feathers.
"Yeah," I mumbled, "You can tell me how you knew I'd like this." He chuckled, and plucked a rather large feather that had been smashed between two others.
"Death liked it." He seemed to smile for real for the first time since we met. I felt my muscles relax more and more as he went. But then the door slammed open.
"Darin!" All three of the Brother's voices called out, making me jump three feet in the air. However, they froze in the doorway, Trian in the front.
"Good evening." Famine acknowledged their presence, but continued to pamper my wings. I bit back a laugh as the color drained from their faces.
