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 Old Ties, New Bonds (Invite Only) 
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Post Old Ties, New Bonds (Invite Only)
[OOC: Continuation of a story devleloped Here
Invitation only please, though anyone really wanting to take part then please pm me or any other person already taking part.
Thanks.
]

IC:

The hooves of the huge black horse thundered a tribal beat into the ground as it was urged onwards ever faster. The two figures sitting in the saddle of the horse were so close together that they could have been mistaken for one person. Her arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, fingernails scratching through the material of his shirt, her head buried deeply into his shoulder, hot breath breaking through the shirt and over his skin. Even though he didn’t wear the body that she had grown accustomed to, the tight bond between the two never loosened. Whether they cared to admit it freely or not, the two of them belonged together. ‘We are only as bound as the ties which bind us’. If this is truth, then the tie binding the demon and the human had no equal.

Desert sands gave way to grassy fields and tracks of heavily trodden dirt. Small groups of birds stood upon the tracks and stared defiantly as the horse galloped towards them, wings flapping anxiously the closer the beast got until they would finally jump up with wings flapping and soar into the skies at the last moment, the final bird to leave the ground cawed triumphantly at its comrades. Its bravery would not go unnoticed by the female of the species and it would have it’s pick during mating season. The demon rider of the horse, however, didn’t notice these things for he had only one thing on his mind.

Eisheth.

How long had it been since he had last laid eyes upon her? How long since he had felt the wonderful pain inflicted by her hands? If Darden were the demon of Tismad then she would be its demoness. The Torturer had learnt many things from her, and he was certain that after this night was through, he would learn many more, as would the woman who clung so tightly to him.

Demetria. He spoke the word in an almost inaudible whisper that was quickly snatched away by turbulent fingers of the wind that whipped across them both. He had no doubt that there would be some who didn’t approve of the relationship between the two of them, but then he rarely sought approval of any kind. She was his to protect, his to teach, his chosen. The way that she had allowed him to pull her onto the steed without question as to who he was, even though he wore a different shell, told him that he had made his choice well.

Her only comment had been a joke about the body being too small for him, and though it had been said in jest, it was true. He knew that he would never find a body that was perfect for him, every living body that he stole would eventually disfigure and twist into a cruel effigy of torment and he would be forced to hide himself within the shadowy confines of hooded cloaks and the cowls of robes. Could she ever look at him when he was in such a state? Could he even look at himself?

Eisheth had been the one to free him from his prison of shadows; she had caused him to be born anew within a body that only he could inhabit, a body that others could look upon and admire. Was this vanity? Perhaps, but before that day he had never been looked at with fear, only disgust. The Torturer was a leader now, one that commanded fear and loyalty. He needed Eisheth to redo what Astavia Dovanucci had undone; he needed her to remake him in the same image.

The living temple loomed high above them and he almost felt as though he had just returned home. The demon dismounted his horse and walked toward the opening, dark gaze wandering across the living temple. He wasn’t sure what she called it now but he was certain that when he had known it, it had been named…

Yagsarroth.

A smile struggled across the tormented lips of the Isonian archer which he inhabited and he looked back across his shoulder. Welcome to the lands of the Reality, Demetria. He said in a half excited voice. Demoness! I know you feel my arrival. Come, show yourself that we may talk. Rather than shout these words out into the cold air, he merely whispered them.

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Tue Nov 11, 2003 5:47 pm
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The lands surrounding the Black Ivory were without myrth, without humanity. Skeletons of those foolish enough to trespass upon demonic lands littered the ground as far as the eye could see and the stink of rotting flesh hung as a sickly sweet perfume on the barelym oving air. As if the whole of her lands held it's breath or was dead and beyond ressurection. The rough caws of carrion eating birds split the sky as the horse with double riders trod up the earthen path. The Tower itself seemed to be watching them with countless eyes. Judging them in silence. The quiet reasserted itself as his whispered words died away giving the impression that it was dead there. That perhaps the demoness had abandonded this place. Looks, however, were deceiving. For moments after the name had been invoked a thick tenticle broke from the surface and coiled about slender ankle. The grip like iron and so cold the flesh fell dead at the caress.

The ground errupting as thousands of tenticles broke through, flailing above their heads and grasping the horse, roughly drawing it to the nether depths. The sound it brought was terrifying. The very cries of those it had devoured over the eons. Shrill screams of man, woman, and child all mixed until it caused the mind to shudder. But it was a single voice which cut above it in a hissed whisper. Enough! Where it came from was not viewed for the moment. For the tenticles served to shield her location. Making this dangerous. Golden orbs flickered between the Torturer and his lover. This human, whom she could do so much for. Could rip her from the pathetic make of her mortal form and free her into bliss unbound. Maledict had returned in a form which was fialing him. Oh the hours she had spent teaching him the love of pain. The allure of agonies without limit. Deep inside her Tower she had elicited his screams until they became moans of extasy. Until he had writhed in sublime pleasures at the mere sight of the tools of his trade. Oh yes, that had been and always would be his first lover. The pain.

A single hoof brought down upon a skull, grinding it to dust and the tenticles parted, loosing the horse and his ankle. Freeing him from that all to familiar grasp. The moonlight striking her and casting a halo of light around her naked form. Pale as death itself. Golden orbs blazed as wings beat upon the air for a moment. The wings throbbed with thick veins and were almost as gauze over the moon. Taloned fingers tickled over the sword hilt at her waist, a single sword belt of human skin. Horned head tilted as this little scene was studied. Eyes cast to Demetria, coldly scrutinizing her form. Forked tongue licked across the perfumed air to taste her scent before looking to Maledict again. I have been expecting you, Bloody One. Yagsaroth sending the slenderest of tenticles to slither about her ankles and calves. Herl ips split into a murderous smile that did not touch her eyes. Taloned fingers stroking over a tenticle as it slipped up to her belly. It seemed obscene the way it stroked across her pallid flesh. Thoughts flickered like quick silver fish across the blackness of her mind.

Come, Demetria, we have much to prepare. Maledict, if you would be so kind as to drag your rotting self inside. It is a long trek though the tunnel... . Fixing him with those conniving orbs. Unless you prefer Yagsaroth's transportation? Bitter and bleak laughter spilled over sharp teeth and tumbled from pale lips. A flex of muscle in thick war hardened thigh and she started back towards the Tower. The tenticles sinking under the soil, leaving ripples as if liquid. There had been preperations already made. Ahead the portal to the Tower stood open, a great maw of some beast. Teeth the length of short swords parted as the jaws opened. Darkness seemed to bubble and roil in the throat of this beast. Faces appeared and melted back into the darkness. A hissed word of ancient dialect brought the burst of flame to braizers and cast back the blackness. Pausing once to look back at them. Such beautiful suffering would be crafted this night. A symphony of demonic affection.

_________________
<Seska>Its just that I'm so lucky to have a guild full of blood thirsty savages to work with, so everyone thinks stupid and insane and violent is good.
I carry Kain in my heart
Co-GM of DR/Ordo


Tue Nov 11, 2003 11:20 pm
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She didn't recognize where they were. It didn't worry her, however. Maledict knew where they were going so that was all she needed to know. She'd entrusted her life to him long ago- he could be taking her to hell and she would have followed him willingly. Her eyes crinkled up in amusement at the thought. The landscape suggested that hell was exactly where he was going.

Leaning against the man in front of her, she pressed as close as physically possible. She wasn't entirely certain what had happened, but was sure that it had something to do with the bitch goddess's whores. The archer was lucky really, although she was certain he didn't feel so lucky. Perhaps she was perverse, but if she'd been next to her mate when his body had been taken and he'd been forced into this weaker vessel, she would have freely accepted him into herself. She knew that the bodies he stole usually ended up twisted and deformed, but she suspected that was because the souls inside the bodies were fighting his darkness- fighting him. She wouldn't have fought. She already shared her body with voices and nightmares. Opening herself to her lover would have actually been welcome. Perhaps he could have chased some of the interlopers from her. Or maybe she was wrong and she would have ended as all the others- but the thought of having him inside of her in such an unusually intimate way was intriguing. She grinned at the thought, nuzzling his neck before watching him dismount.

Welcome to the lands of the Reality, Demetria.

She looked around at her surroundings. The skeletons of others of her kind and perhaps some stronger than her kind, mocked her presence- whispering that she was not strong enough to be here. The stench only reinforced the feeling of mockery. Scowling, she wrinkled her nose and straightened her back. She wasn't like those others who had come here and failed. Maledict had requested her to accompany him- he obviously thought her strong enough. She couldn't let him see her misgivings, lest he regret bringing her. The determination seeped through her slowly until she stopped thinking of possible failure and her innate curiousity and the excitement of the unknown enthused her again.

At that moment, the tentacles broke from the ground and began drawing the animal she still sat astride toward the depths. Gripping it tightly with her thighs, she quickly assessed the situation. The animal wouldn't be able to escape...she should just jump from its back and leave it to its fate. She wouldn't do that though. Running a soothing hand along the animals neck, she drew her knife, prepared to fight whatever creature had hold of them- but then almost as quickly as it had appeared, it had withdrawn at one word. Slowly she resheathed her knife and looked toward where the voice had come from. Where the creature now carressed its master lovingly. She looked toward the one Maledict had come to see.

Come, Demetria, we have much to prepare.

She only glanced toward Maledict for a brief moment before nodding and jumping down off the horse, leading it beside her. If it balked at going through the maw, she would leave it behind. She had no idea what was about to happen, but a visible shiver of anticipation went up her spine. She couldn't help but rub her arms over her body in an excited and slightly protective way. Something told her she was about to witness something, few others, if any had ever witnessed. She only hoped she didn't disappoint.

_________________
It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe...
...the night belongs to us.


Wed Nov 12, 2003 12:10 pm
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The very sound of her voice caused the flesh of his host body to raise up in tiny goosebumps and as he cast his dark gaze upon her the hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end. A cruel grin fought its way across tortured and disfigured lips when her words sliced through the air, followed by that all too familiar callous laughter.

I will make my own way through Yagsaroth. He answered simply whilst shuffling past the demoness and through the now open jaws of the tower. The Torturer took one last look over his shoulder at the two of them together, his once mentor and his present lover. How wonderfully wicked they looked side by side, demoness and human, both possessing a presence that could inspire awe and fear in the strongest of men. The demon unwillingly dragged his gaze away from them both and disappeared down one of the many fleshy tunnels of Yagsaroth.

The living tower pulsated all around him giving the eerie impression that he was willingly making his way into the stomach of some great beast that would devour him; and if he was anyone else, someone deemed unworthy to stand in the presence of Eisheth then that would indeed have been the case. Fingers trailed along the fleshy wall as he slowly walked further and further into the depths of the tower.

The soul of the archer who's body he inhabited was becoming more agressive in its desperate attempts to regain control of it's body. The deterioration was happening much swifter than it should have been, already the face was twisted beyond recognition of even movement and it grew worse with each step that the Torturer took. He had never known a body to disfigure so quickly, perhaps he had lost his touch, perhaps the time spent in a body made just for him had caused him to become complacent, caused him to forget the finer art of possession. He felt like a novice, struggling to fight back at the body's rightful soul as it thrashed and kicked and pushed in its attempt to reject him.

Memories of the last time Eisheth had made him a body came flooding into his mind. Such excruciating pain he had felt, so much more powerful than anything he had ever experienced before or since and he knew that tonight would be pregnant with more agony, more torture. The Demoness would make certain of it, she had to, it's what she did.

His left leg began to lose all feeling as the archer's soul mounted it's next wave of assaults on his intrusion. Maledict found himself dragging the leg behind him looking more like a clubfooted begger than a proud and noble demon. He was silently thankful that none of his enemies were here to see him like this, to see the dishevelled wreck of a shapestealer that they deemed powerful enough to grant the name of "enemy".

When he reached the end of the tunnel a fleshy door opened for him and he stepped into the room beyond. This was it, this was the place where it had all happened in the past. Images of him laying upon the table and being devoured by a huge grub-like beast flickered through his mind like bolts of lightning in the night sky. Even though the memories were of pain and despair, he smiled inwardly and felt a sudden rush of anticipation flood it's warm promises through the stolen body that he occupied.


He was ready.

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Mon Nov 17, 2003 10:10 am
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A covetous look to the warped and twisted form of the stolen body as it fought against the Demon within. The delightful thought of plucking body apart like some macabre puzzle, parting tendon and sinew from the yellow white of blood tinged bone until it lay as piles to be played with later. There was great pleasure in the dissection of body. It always caused nipples to tighten and thighs to grow wet as fingers deftly wrenched apart limbs with dull popping sounds. A hiss escaped her lips as Maledict vanished into the maw of Yagsaroth and made his way to the chamber which was the very anti-thesis of life itself. It was then her gaze turned to Demetria. There was no mistaking the way she looked the human up and down, seeing not the flesh and blood of the human itself, but the potential for what she could release from inside. The curve of hip, the lean belly, the firm muscled upper torso all held such promise. It was almost beyond her ability to control her desires such was the will to rip the demon from the mortals shell.

But that was not why they had come here and in those eyes of Demetria she saw enough to know that some humans were as capable of black deed as some demons and this one, this lover of the Torturer, was exceptional in such machinations. Perhaps later she would offer such release from the mortal coil. Now, however, was not that time. At last she spoke to Demetria and there was a seriousness to her tone which demanded they be heeded. Mark well my words, Demetria. The way we travel will not be easy. You will hear words that will scathe your mind and threaten to break it free of its moorings. Focus upon Maledict and do not listen to the words for they may well seduce your form to destruction. Do not leave my side on this journey for to wander off is to invite great harm upon yourself. The mortal flesh and soul is offensive to what dwells here.

A cold smile flickered across her lips as she strode towards the Tower. Inside the black stone walls throbbed with impossible vein and seemed to breathe about them. A pleading hand or a silently screaming face would thrust suddenly from the surfaces only to melt back never to be rescued from their fate. A non stop silent play of countless limbs and countenances across every visible surface. They swarmed and vanished. They were all but ignored by the demoness as she strode through the halls and approached an entryway which was beyond darkness. It was round, this entryway, and bubbled with endless screams. The voices which came were sexless and cacophonous. Each more frightening than the one before. A hand reached out, sliding into the oily pool of black. It seemed as if her hand were cut off such was the depth of this pool for her hand could not be seen on the other side. A brow arched to her companion before she stepped into it fully. It fought against her form, seeming to stretch like taffy. Trying to barr her way. With a snarl she muscled halfway through and waited Demetria to step into it so she could pull her through all the time reminding herself not to break the human carelessly. A thin ribbon of ghastly green light showed around Eisheth and the voices though muted raped across the mind already.

Ancient words which could not be traced back in time to any known language and which tried to seduce the mind. Filled it with pictures of such gross sexual perversion and bloody acts of carnage and brutality that it seemed overwhelming. Yet at the same time those visions also seemed right and the words seemed to promise such power in the simple act of surrendering to such visions. Forked tongue licked across lips slowly, a heated exhale of breath through nostrils. These were things she had done countless times and worse acts still.

In the chamber Maledict had entered the floor was fleshy and the throbbing of a great heart was heard sluggish and terrible. On the wall was a massive black sack of flesh. It glistened wetly and throbbed with the sick heartbeat. Eisheth appeared to be stepping from a black portal opposite the room from this and her pale flesh was tinted red as if from a sheen of blood. Before Maledict lay a table on which lay a grotesque black maggot the size of a small horse. The very aura it gave would call to him for it’s flesh crawled, as the wall had, with the faces and limps of those it had devoured. Tortured souls and the souls of those guilty of such black atrocity as to curdle the blood. It mewled greedily as bulbous stygian orbs found him. Hungry, always hungry.

The ceiling hung with pulsing sacks of varying sizes. A most delightful brood of creations gestating inside those surrogate wombs. The voices inside the room squealed and gibbered endlessly and seemed to be issuing from the center of the room from inside the black heart which sprouted from the floor on thick veins.

_________________
<Seska>Its just that I'm so lucky to have a guild full of blood thirsty savages to work with, so everyone thinks stupid and insane and violent is good.
I carry Kain in my heart
Co-GM of DR/Ordo


Thu Nov 20, 2003 11:33 am
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She watched as Maledict disappeared into the maw of Yagsaroth, then turned her eyes to Eisheth. The demonness was looking at her in such a way that she couldn't quite put her finger on what she was thinking. The one thing that was obvious was that Eisheth wasn't looking at her in disgust. She straightened her back in pride. Maledict respected this being. She would not shame him in front of the demonness.

"Mark well my words, Demetria. The way we travel will not be easy. You will hear words that will scathe your mind and threaten to break it free of its moorings. Focus upon Maledict and do not listen to the words for they may well seduce your form to destruction. Do not leave my side on this journey for to wander off is to invite great harm upon yourself. The mortal flesh and soul is offensive to what dwells here."

She slanted her head at the words, nodding. She doubted Eisheth expected a response. What type of response did one give to such directives? I'm not worried about my mind breaking from its moorings...some would already say it did years ago? Focussing on Maledict would not be difficult. Some would have thought meekly obeying Eisheth without argument, out of character for her. However, she wasn't stupid. She could feel this place was unlike the others she had visited before. Not only was it living, but it felt hungry.

Wordlessly, she watched Eisheth step into the inky blackness, then without hesitation followed her, pulling her reluctant mount with her. The barrier was agressive in barring her entry. If Eisheth hadn't reached into the depths of the oily barrier and pulled her through, she wouldn't have made it. The horse didn't. She wasn't certain which of the screams belonged to the animal, if it even had a chance to scream. It was enough that her head was filled with the echoes of misery, even after she'd made it through to the other side and followed the demonness into the chamber.

Her stomach felt slightly ill as her own heartbeat began to move in concert with the heartbeat of the massive black sack. Her eyes went to her own mentor and lover. She swallowed, then walked to his side before glancing around at all the throbbing wombs.

I have the distinct feeling this place would like to eat me up.

She giggled softly, glancing up at Maledict to see what his reaction to this room was.

_________________
It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe...
...the night belongs to us.


Sat Nov 22, 2003 9:35 pm
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(OOC: I apologise for not posting sooner.. haven't been very well and hope I'm not so late that you've lost interest :) )

IC:

thruuuuum thruuuuuum thruuuumm

The lazy beat of Yagsaroth's heart grew ever louder in his ears as he walked across the fleshy chamber, his gaze never leaving the hideous form of the maggot which in turn looked at him with greedy eyes. Faces pushed against it's glistening hide, each of them opening their mouths wide as though in a permanent state of screaming, all working together to stretch the skin and perhaps make it rupture so that they could escape the torment of their living prison.

thruuuum thruuuum thruuuum

Maledict had seen such a creature before and he knew that their attempts were made in vain; there was no escape from this obscenity, no reprieve from the eternity of agony that it offered. Only the will of the demoness could set them free and he grinned maliciously as he wondered if they knew that that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

thruuuum thruuum thruuum

Yagsaroth's heartbeat quickened as the Torturer looked down upon the maggot, almost as though it was becoming excited about what was going to occur as soon as the demoness arrived.

He turned around slowly and deliberately when he heard Eisheth and Demetria slop out of the portal. Eyebrows raised slightly as he wondered how Demetria had fared in there, such places were not known for their acceptance of humankind, yet she seemed unharmed; on the surface, at least, who knew what mind breaking obscenities they had whispered into her ears. The Torturer relaxed slightly as his lover walked across to him and spoke.

"I have the distinct feeling this place would like to eat me up."

He smirked at her words and slowly nodded his head. It will behave unless the demoness tells it otherwise. His softly spoken answer hung in the air for long moments as though unsure where to go next, even words were hesitant of the living temple that was Yagsaroth.

Besides, He continued, I'm sure that I'll be providing enough entertainment to satiate it this night. The Torturer could feel the face of his host body virtually sliding away from the bones of the skull, like some vulgar wax mask that had begun to melt near a roaring fire, his back was now fully hunched and both legs were failing him. Bone and sinew unwilling to accept even the slightest command from the shape-stealer. He let out a long sigh and rested against the table that the slug glistened malevelently on, one of the faces within stretched out so far that it almost touched that of Maledict, and he swore he could hear it screaming.

Time grows ever shorter, demoness. He struggled to push the words across twisted lips and then the legs failed him altogether and he fell to the fleshy floor in an awkward position that made him resemble a monstrous ragdoll rather than The Torturer that many had come to fear.

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Mon Dec 08, 2003 6:47 am
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Her taloned fingers stroked the heart of Yogsaroth as its beat increased. Snuffling up the scents of decay from Maledict. Hearing their words yet seeing no desire to harm Demetria. The fact she had come through within raving insanity impressed her. Indeed Maledict had choosen well of his mate. As he crumpled like a rag doll she moved. Talons raked across the scalp, splitting it to the bone. Hissing at him as the same hand pressed talons into the meat of his chest and gripped the breast bone, lifting him up from the floor. Her form twisted into the grotesque beast she was. Massive in form, terrible in vision. Noxious fumes exhailed from those glistening nostrils. Forked tongue flickered over his bleeding face. A purr of delight before she hissed at him malevolently. Time is fleeting, Bloody One. Time to shed this false front.

Expecting Demetria to leap to Maledicts defense as he hung in her steel grasp. The other hand lifted, ready to peel him from the human form. There would be vast pain inflicted, for the skin would be removed. Blood spattered as she slashed mercilessly and yet with a glimmer of love for the Shape Shifter in her eyes. Once she had held him as a lover. It was that glimmer which protected him now. Demetria was to be respected for calling him mate and lover. It was never an easy thing to love a demon. The maggot mewled and hungrily writhed. The faces screaming in terror at what they witnessed. They had been fed to the beast, they assumed Maledict wuld as well. But this was not the case. Speaking to Demetria as she ripped flesh from bone. Calmly speaking, though the bloodlust had tainted her voice and she shook with the will it took not to gobble the falling flesh pooling at her hooves. Touch the heart, Demetria. It will open. Take your dagger and collect three drops of blood. Quickly. So tempted to improve Demetria as well, to put them in the pulsing womb together so that they became bonded into demons linked to one another. But for now she stayed her frenzied ideas, kept them at bay. Maledict had not suggested such and she would not harm nor attempt such, for to do so was to risk losing an ally and a friend.

Maledict would be slammed down beside the maggot, the nerves sizzling in the fetid air. The talons sliding from the ruin of his form like fork tines from tender meat. Eyes turned to the maggot, it tried to wriggle away, shrilly shrieking in fear as her smile turned utterly black. It would be forced into Maledict, the blood would seal the beast inside.

_________________
<Seska>Its just that I'm so lucky to have a guild full of blood thirsty savages to work with, so everyone thinks stupid and insane and violent is good.
I carry Kain in my heart
Co-GM of DR/Ordo


Sat Dec 20, 2003 12:58 pm
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Her first instinct had been to fly at the demonness and rip her hands off of the body that was being torn asunder. It was quickly quelled however. The body was not her lover- her lover was trapped inside the weak shell. Perhaps not physically, as he could leave the husk and take the next available body he came to- in this instance her own- but he was bound by the constraints of not being able to stay in any one body for over long before it became too corrupted and twisted for him to be able to do much. So she stayed her impulse to stop Eisheth and instead watched, reminding herself over and over that what was done, needed to be done, if she was to have him back in a form that she could respect.

It was difficult to watch though. It wasn't difficult because of the grisly nature of the proceedings. Blood and gore hadn't affected her adversly in a very long time. It wasn't difficult because of the pain she knew Maledict was going through. Pain was something they both understood only too well- part of her was jealous that he could experience it in ways she never would- so it wasn't difficult knowing he experienced it. He would scoff at such concern if she'd held it. It was difficult because of how helpless he was. It was difficult because at this moment, he was vulnerable.

She hated when he was vulnerable, even when he was vulnerable to herself, and perhaps moreso then. It reminded her too much of when death had taken him from her and the possibility that it might happen again, and permanently, always shadowed her nightmares. She did not feel secure when he was vulnerable. She did not know what she would do, if Eisheth failed.

"Touch the heart, Demetria. It will open. Take your dagger and collect three drops of blood. Quickly."

It didn't take any thought on her part. She didn't know what was being done, or why, but she could sense power and she reacted to it quickly doing exactly as told. When the three drops of blood were poised on the tip of her knife, she glanced up at the demoness and waited. The smell of blood was heady. It was all she could do to refrain from painting herself with the warm vitae, but she maintained control. There would be other times for such indulgences. Licking her lower lip, she waited.

_________________
It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe...
...the night belongs to us.


Mon Dec 29, 2003 3:53 pm
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