#not a fanfiction
Rough Sketches of a few Eidolon Complex Characters.
In Order: Vladimir Damian Masters, Dani, and Romulus
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Sam raised an eyebrow and questioned, “ Gran? How well do you know Vlad Masters?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “ Very well. Why?”
Sam took another moment and fiddled with the end of her t-shirt slightly. A classic Skulk and Lurk brand logo on a charcoal gray cotton. It was her favorite screen print and comfy in the August heat. Soft gray eyes with blue undertones almost bordering on lilac steeled themselves and Sam sighed. Time to make an educated risk, “Grandma? I know.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line and then a sigh, “If it’s any consolation when I knocked him out that one time it was purely-”
Sam froze up and tensed as she practically screamed, “ YOU DID WHAT?!”
Vladimir was flying loop-de-loops through a football stadium, the castle clearly visible a small distance away as The Dairy King, or rather Rupert Magnus in a spectral pair of Packer’s sweats, lobbed ectobeams at him. Vlad was laughing, “Come on old man? Can’t you hit me? This is almost getting sad.”
Rupert was rolling his sweatshirt sleeves, green skin flushing a slight blue as he charged hands again, wrinkled face smiling warmly through glimmering spectral sweat. “And can you do anything but be a brat, Vladimir? If not-” Another blast barely missed the halfa as he swerved and dived. “ - I think we are at a tensioned equality.”
Vlad snorted and motioned around. “ You bought a football stadium and stored enough Packer’s crud in the wine cellar,” He air-quoted. “- to start a museum.”
Rupert huffed, “ It’s art and I appreciated the finer things-”
Vlad stuck out his tongue, “ Yes, puke green and booger yellow. Very fine indulgences.”
Rupert was growling like a chihuahua as he tackled Vladimir to the ground and pointed a finger smugly under the younger’s startled chin. “It’s grass green and brilliant gold, a wealthy aesthetic and pleasing to my Irish and Scottish heritage so, yes. The finer things and all kept out of sight for your sake.” The last part was more a gentle reminder to the younger who gave a weak smile in acknowledgment.
Then Rupert was helping Vladimir up and patting him off. “Now Vladimir, it’s a fine late August Saturday morning so what are you planning on doing?” There was a sternness as the elder looked to Vladimir, “ And might I add that I may be dead but I do track the fact you skip meals. Honestly, it’s not that hard for a man to make a cheese grilled sandwich dontcha know?”
Vladimir blushed slightly with embarrassment and looked the floating and fat ghoul in the eyes as he crossed his arms and shifted to human form. “I do eat-”
“Ramen, rice krispies, takeout, and that rather questionable gas station submarine sandwich I saw in your office.” Rupert listed off in almost a single breath before pointing a fat wrinkled finger at Vlad. “I was talking meals kiddo, not your lazy fill-up purchases.”
Vladimir rolled his eyes and smirked, “Tell you what? I’ll offer a deal. I’ll eat a decent steady diet every day for a year on the condition you allow me to sell everything relating to the Packer’s save for that football I gave you to guard.”
Rupert went wide-eyed and retracted, before narrowing his rounded orbs at the almost smug silver-headed halfa. “ You won’t last a week. If I win? We get a supplier of cheese and hire an errand boy or gal for grocery runs. You can’t be trusted with food.”
Vladimir smirked and hummed before kicking up and flying over to the castle with Rupert. “Not a fan of macaroni and cheese?”
Rupert looked affronted and waved his arms around as he shifted his attire for something more kingly, “ Boxed macaroni and cheese is a sin to Wisconsin. Next thing ya tell me will probably be that you don’t know how to make a fried curd.”
Vladimir furrowed his brow and looked to Rupert in confusion before questioning, “ A what?”
Rupert made a finger cross with his fingers and sped up to fly past Vladimir, “To think I gave you the title of Dairy Prince! For shame!”
Vlad sped up and laughed brightly before skidding through double doors and into the foyer of the castle to playfully hug on to Rupert. “I’m not fond of the cheesy title but it was a given seeing as how the wager for this castle stipulated me winning would be paramount to teasing and parenting from a deranged old codger with a cheddar condition.”
READ MORE OF THE EIDOLON COMPLEX A DARK PARODY HERE
