Sigurd noticed this, because he noticed, well… everything. “You, sir, do you have any information that could lead me to the boy’s father?” he asked, suddenly appearing right behind the man despite having been at the other side of the room only a moment ago.
"No. What's it to you?" The man asked gruffly, taking another sip of his drink. "If you found a kid, bring him to the police or something. Maybe they'll stick him in an orphanage so his father doesn't have to deal with him anymore."
“Well, I doubt the police would help much. They never helped me, usually tried to shoot me. After the transformation, rather than before. I had to hide away in the woods, can you believe it? Now, I don’t have time for bullshit, so tell me where I can find who I’m looking for or I can twist your organs into pretty little bows. Okay?”
The man rolled his eyes a bit. "Seems a bit unnecessary to twist some random stranger's organs into bows?" He asked. "I doubt the police would like that very much. Why do you care, anyway? You can just drop the kid off wherever. He's not your problem."
“He is, because I’m not a piece of shit. You’ll be awake for it, the whole time. And I’ll make sure you. Don’t. Die.” he hissed. “I will leave you just like that and you will never know peace, so tell me. Where. Is. That. Asshole.”
"Not my problem. The kid can handle himself." The man scoffed a bit. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work." He finished his shot and got up, obviously planning on leaving.
“It seems like you know him.” Sigurd said, blocking the man from standing up and moving anywhere.
"What's it to you? He's not even your kid." The man crossed his arms and glared up at Sigurd, clearly annoyed.
“It’s a lot to me. Again, I’m not a piece of shit. Tell me what you know.” he said, allowing an empty beer bottle to fly into his hand. He smashed it, and held the broken glass up to the man’s face.
The man held up one hand to keep between the glass and his face. "Come on. The kid is half dragon. Dragons can take care of themselves, and so can he. He's no one's problem at this point."
“He’s a child. You’re his father, aren’t you? That’s how you know so much about him. Tell me, how often do you abandon him to this pub, huh?” he asked.
He rolled his eyes again. "He's six and he's capable. He never shuts up. I'm sure he's told you all about himself already. And I spend most of my time working, not drinking. I never wanted a kid, you know. Especially not a mutt."
“He’s not a mutt. That was your last chance, now you’re going to either start being a responsible fucking human being or I’m going to rip you to shreds.” he growled, inky tentacles circling around the other man’s ankles and lifting him from the floor.
"What do you care?!" The man growled, unable to hide his uneasiness when he was lifted from the ground. Some of the other people in the bar were watching worriedly or angrily, and a couple seemed to be calling the police. "He's not even human! He does a fine job taking care of himself!"
“You’re supposed to take care of him! That’s your job, your duty as a father. You called him a mistake, but really, that’s you!” the air started to crackle and warp, reality changed and people slowly faded into darkness. “I gave you your chances.”
"Oh yeah? And what are you going to tell the kid if you kill me? You'll crush him." The man struggled against Sigurd's hold, still glaring at him.
“He won’t need to know.” Sigurd said, the tendrils wrapping around the man’s throat tightly.
"H-He'll ask." The man choked and sputtered a bit. "Believe me, the kid won't shut the hell up. Asks questions every chance he gets."
“I’ll tell him you left for good. Not that difficult to understand. You’re not going to die, however. You’re going to live with what you’ve done, how you’ve hurt people.” he said, taking them fully into another realm of shadows and trickery.
He glared at Sigurd, struggling a bit more. "My job will notice me being gone. They're less gullible than a six year old."
“Well, maybe you’ll find your way back. Goodbye, and I hope for both your and your son’s sake that you never see him again.” Sigurd said, releasing him. But the empty void didn’t disappear, only Sigurd, who had, upon remembering their policy of relative pacifism, decided to leave the man there in the empty void to think about what he’d done. Maybe he’d even let him go after a few thousand years.
Cerulean was awake by the time Sigurd returned and he wasn't in bed either. He also wasn't anywhere in the house, having gone out to the coast to catch himself some breakfast.
Sigurd stared, looking at the open door and Cerulean’s disappearance. He came to the only conclusion a concerned father might: someone had kidnapped the boy. Anger began to rise up within, and Sigurd began to transform. His bones crackled and layered above flesh, jaw lengthening and splitting, eyes filling with silver substance and dark tendrils carrying him to the closest place humans might be found. “Where is he?!” the thing that once was Sigurd roared.
Cerulean popped his head up out of the water when he heard Sigurd's yelling, looking around with a confused expression. He stuck one of the fish in his mouth and held the rest in his arms as he tottered out of the water.
(I like this eldritch being. He's cool)