03-16-2019, 07:44 PM
[[continued from The City's Dark Jewel]]
Emotion squatted like a cuckoo’s child in Oriena’s chest, sparking a darkening anger the more she became aware of the violation. Even so she had refused to follow Ilya as he had directed Kasun’s unconscious body to be hauled from the pit. Worry pierced but was brutally cast aside in favour of following the direction of the hook embedded in her chest, pulling ruthlessly on the bloody strings until she pulled it fucking free, or confronted its source.
The blade of her heels impaled the stone of the Underground. She travelled down into the dingy caverns below the club, and lower still, a storm the wise recoiled from. No sunlight ever reached this deep within Moscow’s forgotten bowels. No people lingered where she finally came to pause, either. “I know you’re there,” she purred. The storm of her gaze searched the coiling shadows above her head. Cold prickled her skin, shivering her bare arms and legs. A caress of fear she embraced for fuel. Her fingers flexed, impatient.
It started like a faint smudge of light, a trick of the eye that coalesced and grew; consuming the shadow and using it to paint features. A woman’s body, garments in slow and rippling flux. Ori’s gaze burned to drink it in, recollection tightening hatred in her stomach. The hot breath of memory stirred like a desert breeze, stinging.
“An oath was made.”
Hair swirled in undulating tendrils, a face never quite revealing itself in entirety. The twist of smirking lips; the sharp blade of a cheek bone. Ori never saw eyes. An echo of pain reared to behold the creature again, so virulent she actually checked her lip for the tang of blood. Loss tugged like a black hole caved her chest inwards. Only fury filled the void. Hers or its, she could no longer tell.
“What the fuck did you do to me?”
“An oath was made.”
Her jaw tensed, the distance between them closing. She was on the lip of something uncontrolled, railing against the bars of this unknown cage -- utterly uncaring of how ripping free might hurt her. Ori remembered well enough what she had said in the heat of possession, the creature’s grip enough to squeeze every bloody drip of life from her soul. The flame of betrayal lit from a trail gasoline, a violent burning, now sharpened with the gut wound of the queen’s loss.
A low laugh spilled from her throat. Darkness glittered her gaze. “To help free you from your chains,” she teased. Her lip caught between her teeth, containing the smirk, but charmed by the first whisper of conspiracy her head canted.
“Lady of Sorrow, your oath is called.” A hand reached forth, sinking into Oriena’s chest like cold mist. She watched it disappear, taking another step forward in provocation. The fire raged, but Oriena thrust herself right in, indignant for the burn. Her attention rose to the creature's hidden face, and this time the curve of her smile was deranged. “And We will have vengeance.”
It gripped her, the loss of the queen's companions, each soul plucked free like fingers ripped from a hand.
“You are wanting.
You are weak.
You were always weak.”
The words stamped like a boot crushing her heart, yanking free something ancient. It rose inside her furiously, flooding her bright with power enough to consume her whole. Oh, how the world would burn.
Agony blazed equal to the joy, as the creature slipped inside.
Emotion squatted like a cuckoo’s child in Oriena’s chest, sparking a darkening anger the more she became aware of the violation. Even so she had refused to follow Ilya as he had directed Kasun’s unconscious body to be hauled from the pit. Worry pierced but was brutally cast aside in favour of following the direction of the hook embedded in her chest, pulling ruthlessly on the bloody strings until she pulled it fucking free, or confronted its source.
The blade of her heels impaled the stone of the Underground. She travelled down into the dingy caverns below the club, and lower still, a storm the wise recoiled from. No sunlight ever reached this deep within Moscow’s forgotten bowels. No people lingered where she finally came to pause, either. “I know you’re there,” she purred. The storm of her gaze searched the coiling shadows above her head. Cold prickled her skin, shivering her bare arms and legs. A caress of fear she embraced for fuel. Her fingers flexed, impatient.
It started like a faint smudge of light, a trick of the eye that coalesced and grew; consuming the shadow and using it to paint features. A woman’s body, garments in slow and rippling flux. Ori’s gaze burned to drink it in, recollection tightening hatred in her stomach. The hot breath of memory stirred like a desert breeze, stinging.
“An oath was made.”
Hair swirled in undulating tendrils, a face never quite revealing itself in entirety. The twist of smirking lips; the sharp blade of a cheek bone. Ori never saw eyes. An echo of pain reared to behold the creature again, so virulent she actually checked her lip for the tang of blood. Loss tugged like a black hole caved her chest inwards. Only fury filled the void. Hers or its, she could no longer tell.
“What the fuck did you do to me?”
“An oath was made.”
Her jaw tensed, the distance between them closing. She was on the lip of something uncontrolled, railing against the bars of this unknown cage -- utterly uncaring of how ripping free might hurt her. Ori remembered well enough what she had said in the heat of possession, the creature’s grip enough to squeeze every bloody drip of life from her soul. The flame of betrayal lit from a trail gasoline, a violent burning, now sharpened with the gut wound of the queen’s loss.
A low laugh spilled from her throat. Darkness glittered her gaze. “To help free you from your chains,” she teased. Her lip caught between her teeth, containing the smirk, but charmed by the first whisper of conspiracy her head canted.
“Lady of Sorrow, your oath is called.” A hand reached forth, sinking into Oriena’s chest like cold mist. She watched it disappear, taking another step forward in provocation. The fire raged, but Oriena thrust herself right in, indignant for the burn. Her attention rose to the creature's hidden face, and this time the curve of her smile was deranged. “And We will have vengeance.”
It gripped her, the loss of the queen's companions, each soul plucked free like fingers ripped from a hand.
“You are wanting.
You are weak.
You were always weak.”
The words stamped like a boot crushing her heart, yanking free something ancient. It rose inside her furiously, flooding her bright with power enough to consume her whole. Oh, how the world would burn.
Agony blazed equal to the joy, as the creature slipped inside.