Bob the Skull / 22. Hidden
Title: Reliquary
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, Justin Morningway
Prompt: 22. Hidden
Word Count: 583
Rating: G
Summary: Justin Mornignway revisits an old friend.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
The stage magician's prop box had held a place of honor in the Morningway study for many years. It sat on the very edge of the ornate mahogany desk, its scarred wooden veneer waxed and dusted to the best of the housemaid's ability.
There was a time when Harry Dresden would visit the box every day, opening it with exaggerated care in order to view the props within. Mostly he merely looked but sometimes, on days when he felt most alone, he would touch the familiar objects. The trick handcuffs and locking rings, the faded deck of cards and the black wand with the white tips. They were more than old friends and memories; they were physical proof of his father's existence, long after he had gone.
But time dulls most wounds, if not fully heals them, and as Harry matured he visited the box less often. Even so, it continued to hold its place of honor on the mahogany desk long after the housemaid and her dust rag became it's only visitor.
Why then was it now of such interest to Justin Morningway?
A silent shadow standing in a corner of the study, Hrothbert of Bainbridge watched as his master slide a hand over the polished wood. Knowing how important the small chest and its memories were to Harry, Morningway's touching it seemed like a desecration to Bob. Not once in all of the years the box had shared the desk with his skull had he witnessed Justin so much as glance its way. Why then did he now seem to regard the object as if were a cherished friend?
"What are you staring at, ghost?"
"You, obviously."
"Find another interest," snapped Morningway as he opened the box.
A slight movement drew Bob's attention to the hand concealed within a pocket of his master's expensive suit jacket. "What do you have there?"
"Something I misplaced a long time ago. Just a trinket." Morningway sneered at the paltry objects arrayed upon the faded velvet before reaching down to lift the tray, revealing the storage space beneath. "This is where it belongs."
With silent steps, Bob moved closer to better see the object that Morningway drew from his pocket. It was a small thing, really; no more than a few inches tall. The construct's crude cloth body had begun to yellow with age but the runes and symbols drawn upon the vaguely human shape remained bold and clear.
Morningway reverently lay the construct within the chest's cavity. He admired it for a moment, as if he'd just completed a great work of art, before carefully replacing the tray of cheap props.
With sudden, terrible understanding, Bob felt skeletal fingers of dread grasp his spectral heart and squeeze. "You!"
Morningway cast a glare over his shoulder but offered no denial. "You will say nothing of this. Not a word to anyone." He lowered the lid, sealing the fetish within its new tomb. "Anyone. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal," said Bob curtly as he felt the Command bind his soul like a shackle.
"Good." Morningway spared the chest one last smile of satisfaction before dismissing it altogether.
Hands clenched into fists held stiffly by his side, Bob stood before the magician's box long after Morningway had gone. A diffused aura of death magic now radiated from the chest's hidden heart. Like the proverbial monster lurking within the closet, it would lie in wait to savage the boy that must one day discover it.
Oh Harry!
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, Justin Morningway
Prompt: 22. Hidden
Word Count: 583
Rating: G
Summary: Justin Mornignway revisits an old friend.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
The stage magician's prop box had held a place of honor in the Morningway study for many years. It sat on the very edge of the ornate mahogany desk, its scarred wooden veneer waxed and dusted to the best of the housemaid's ability.
There was a time when Harry Dresden would visit the box every day, opening it with exaggerated care in order to view the props within. Mostly he merely looked but sometimes, on days when he felt most alone, he would touch the familiar objects. The trick handcuffs and locking rings, the faded deck of cards and the black wand with the white tips. They were more than old friends and memories; they were physical proof of his father's existence, long after he had gone.
But time dulls most wounds, if not fully heals them, and as Harry matured he visited the box less often. Even so, it continued to hold its place of honor on the mahogany desk long after the housemaid and her dust rag became it's only visitor.
Why then was it now of such interest to Justin Morningway?
A silent shadow standing in a corner of the study, Hrothbert of Bainbridge watched as his master slide a hand over the polished wood. Knowing how important the small chest and its memories were to Harry, Morningway's touching it seemed like a desecration to Bob. Not once in all of the years the box had shared the desk with his skull had he witnessed Justin so much as glance its way. Why then did he now seem to regard the object as if were a cherished friend?
"What are you staring at, ghost?"
"You, obviously."
"Find another interest," snapped Morningway as he opened the box.
A slight movement drew Bob's attention to the hand concealed within a pocket of his master's expensive suit jacket. "What do you have there?"
"Something I misplaced a long time ago. Just a trinket." Morningway sneered at the paltry objects arrayed upon the faded velvet before reaching down to lift the tray, revealing the storage space beneath. "This is where it belongs."
With silent steps, Bob moved closer to better see the object that Morningway drew from his pocket. It was a small thing, really; no more than a few inches tall. The construct's crude cloth body had begun to yellow with age but the runes and symbols drawn upon the vaguely human shape remained bold and clear.
Morningway reverently lay the construct within the chest's cavity. He admired it for a moment, as if he'd just completed a great work of art, before carefully replacing the tray of cheap props.
With sudden, terrible understanding, Bob felt skeletal fingers of dread grasp his spectral heart and squeeze. "You!"
Morningway cast a glare over his shoulder but offered no denial. "You will say nothing of this. Not a word to anyone." He lowered the lid, sealing the fetish within its new tomb. "Anyone. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal," said Bob curtly as he felt the Command bind his soul like a shackle.
"Good." Morningway spared the chest one last smile of satisfaction before dismissing it altogether.
Hands clenched into fists held stiffly by his side, Bob stood before the magician's box long after Morningway had gone. A diffused aura of death magic now radiated from the chest's hidden heart. Like the proverbial monster lurking within the closet, it would lie in wait to savage the boy that must one day discover it.
Oh Harry!