Work Text:
„Wake up, sleepyhead,“ the mage whispered fondly, poking at the tattoo on his arm with an old quill. This, he thought, was the best thing about turning to darkness: he would never be alone again. Even if his permanent companion was not a morning... creature. He kept tickling it. “There are princes to be cursed! Priests to be tempted! Cookies to be stolen...”
Suddenly, a tentacle shot out of his arm and crushed the quill, faster than the eye could blink.
“I knew you were awake,” he chuckled as he went on preparing for the adventures of the new day.