Addiction \Ad*dic"tion\, n. [Cf. L. addictio an adjudging.]
1. A habit or practice that damages, jeopardizes or shortens one's life but when ceased causes trauma.
Counting the hours since they last saw each other. Hours since his thumbnail scrapped against the her tender thigh. The rip his soul shared, feeling every inch etched inside his mind, until his saliva tasted of morphine.
Counting the hours until they see each other again. His hands grip each other in an attempt to contain the aching desire they cannot suppress. To cut another slice. To place his lips once more on her. To sink his teeth until she gave a virgin cry.
Counting the seconds since the last time he thought of bending her will and body - one.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Beneath the Tumtum
Alice had tried to do as he'd instructed, but the paths had tempted her. Go nowhere. She'd gotten lost a few times, running into faces she didn't wish to see. Faces that weren't his. Eyes close, she focuses on calming her breath. His words repeat clearly in her head. Go nowhere. Eyes open, she thinks there a million paths to take. Anticipation vents to panic as her desire to feel his touch turns to ache. Go nowhere.
The words echo repeatedly as she assesses each direction. Go nowhere. Go nowhere. Go nowhere. It had been easy for him to say, much harder for her to do. The torment begins to be too much. She kneels down in resignation; she doesn't want to take a path. She doesn't want to go anywhere. She just wants to be next to him, under him.
As her frustration mounts, a familiar smile begins to form before her, so happy to mock her. Yet this time it is too late as the world begins to grow away. The smile, now complete, blurs into the distance along with everything else. In its place, trees and walls of various ruins sprout up, only to speed away from her in every direction.
When the world stops, all the paths and all of their somewheres are gone. What grass and plants can be seen soon join with her in kneeling, blown into submission by his massive wings. Her heart races once more with him so near. He strokes his muzzle as she looks up into his red eyes, eyes that are neither kind nor spiteful, but tired and wise. In response to her, the Jabberwocky glances to the sky and lets out his fiery roar.
*****
Constantine woke from his vivid dream. It wasn't difficult to read this one as he looked over to his Alice. The book she had used to signal their escape had obviously entered his subconscious. He smiled; she looked so youthful and fresh as she lay sleeping next to him. He never asked her age, though he marveled how each generation seemed as young as creation. Perhaps that was the point.
The waning Moon was rising, announcing that the Sun would soon follow. Roughly sixty degrees more he guessed. She could spare another half hour before their time was up. It was a risk to take, one that could put his survey in jeopardy, or worse, the Curtain. Yet with her, certain risks were worth taking.
He knew what happened to those who fought against all temptation. The trick was moderation, a little imperfection, heavily guarded. His dream self could breathe fire. With a small wrinkle in the Curtain so could he, but it, too, was another risk, a risk he could show only her. Pursing his lips, he let out a shallow breath, just enough to let the flames harmlessly lick her back. Just twenty-five more minutes, he would watch her sleep.
The words echo repeatedly as she assesses each direction. Go nowhere. Go nowhere. Go nowhere. It had been easy for him to say, much harder for her to do. The torment begins to be too much. She kneels down in resignation; she doesn't want to take a path. She doesn't want to go anywhere. She just wants to be next to him, under him.
As her frustration mounts, a familiar smile begins to form before her, so happy to mock her. Yet this time it is too late as the world begins to grow away. The smile, now complete, blurs into the distance along with everything else. In its place, trees and walls of various ruins sprout up, only to speed away from her in every direction.
When the world stops, all the paths and all of their somewheres are gone. What grass and plants can be seen soon join with her in kneeling, blown into submission by his massive wings. Her heart races once more with him so near. He strokes his muzzle as she looks up into his red eyes, eyes that are neither kind nor spiteful, but tired and wise. In response to her, the Jabberwocky glances to the sky and lets out his fiery roar.
*****
Constantine woke from his vivid dream. It wasn't difficult to read this one as he looked over to his Alice. The book she had used to signal their escape had obviously entered his subconscious. He smiled; she looked so youthful and fresh as she lay sleeping next to him. He never asked her age, though he marveled how each generation seemed as young as creation. Perhaps that was the point.
The waning Moon was rising, announcing that the Sun would soon follow. Roughly sixty degrees more he guessed. She could spare another half hour before their time was up. It was a risk to take, one that could put his survey in jeopardy, or worse, the Curtain. Yet with her, certain risks were worth taking.
He knew what happened to those who fought against all temptation. The trick was moderation, a little imperfection, heavily guarded. His dream self could breathe fire. With a small wrinkle in the Curtain so could he, but it, too, was another risk, a risk he could show only her. Pursing his lips, he let out a shallow breath, just enough to let the flames harmlessly lick her back. Just twenty-five more minutes, he would watch her sleep.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Eclairé moi
"I love you"
He shivered as she repeated with coma inducing sweetness.
"I love you, Sir."
Was this real or not, he couldn't determine. The laughter guided him through the maze until her found this mirror. Stepping through it, she was there on the other side of the alley; Nareth, the abomination, the almost sacred chylde of Lady Omega.
He had been stalking her ever since she came back. Tracking would be a better word, removing the perverse connotations, but it was too professional. He was stalking her, as one animal would stalk another, as a simple means to an end. End was what he wanted. Ending the nonsense of her existence, and as elusive of a prey she was, the laughter brought him to her.
"I love you, Pontifex," she repeated against his silence. Almost as a plea for him to respond in kind.
Everything about her was an insult to the memory of the Nareth who died, who he had killed. He did not love her. He didn't want her to love him. He didn't want her to make sense. He just wanted her to die.
The laughter bounced off the brick around them. The maze on the other side was shifting and soon people would be here. He knew he would have to do it now, or not at all. The laughter raised as he drew his knife. It had killed her once before, it should be up to the task tonight.
Embracing Nareth's shock frozen body, he plunges the knife into her bust. There was no time to savor the cut, as this was to be a quick job. There would be other victims he could savior.
Her body slumped against him, as he pulled the blade from her and thrust it back repeatedly. Had someone passed behind them, it would seem like a loving couple, from a distance. As he continued to ransack her chest in search for a heart, she never fought back or cried, as if she perceived the attack as the only way to show his love.
While her heart seemed elusive, least she stopped professing that annoying love of hers. Her body grew steadily heavier, causing him to seat her on the ground. He tried slitting her throat next has his hand balanced her head. Still, her undead life seemed too resilient.
Cursing his selection of cutlery, as he decides to saw her neck off. While apt for stabbing and slicing, smooth blades are not suited for sawing meat. Still, with diligence, her neck was jaggedly cut open to her spine. He was almost complete with decapitating her before two women arrived.
Apparently he hadn't been as discreet as he had been dedicated. The two approached, thinking something was indeed wrong with the scene. Yet nothing prepares one to randomly stumble upon such a horrific scene. One screamed, "What are you doing?" As if the answer wasn't obvious.
Perhaps the shock was too much that she wanted an explanation that was easier to swallow. She would learn tonight though, that nothing makes sense. "Mending reality," came his reply as he rose. With that he dashed off, out of the alley. The laughter and one of the women chased after him, but the laughter guided him with which path to take.
Safely on the other side of the mirror, he was back in the Labyrinth. Looking at his reflection, he finds Darwin grinning back to him as he takes the knife to his lips and relishes the blood peppered with chunks of skin.
Back at the alley, the laughter returned to its master, observing nearby from the shadows.
He shivered as she repeated with coma inducing sweetness.
"I love you, Sir."
Was this real or not, he couldn't determine. The laughter guided him through the maze until her found this mirror. Stepping through it, she was there on the other side of the alley; Nareth, the abomination, the almost sacred chylde of Lady Omega.
He had been stalking her ever since she came back. Tracking would be a better word, removing the perverse connotations, but it was too professional. He was stalking her, as one animal would stalk another, as a simple means to an end. End was what he wanted. Ending the nonsense of her existence, and as elusive of a prey she was, the laughter brought him to her.
"I love you, Pontifex," she repeated against his silence. Almost as a plea for him to respond in kind.
Everything about her was an insult to the memory of the Nareth who died, who he had killed. He did not love her. He didn't want her to love him. He didn't want her to make sense. He just wanted her to die.
The laughter bounced off the brick around them. The maze on the other side was shifting and soon people would be here. He knew he would have to do it now, or not at all. The laughter raised as he drew his knife. It had killed her once before, it should be up to the task tonight.
Embracing Nareth's shock frozen body, he plunges the knife into her bust. There was no time to savor the cut, as this was to be a quick job. There would be other victims he could savior.
Her body slumped against him, as he pulled the blade from her and thrust it back repeatedly. Had someone passed behind them, it would seem like a loving couple, from a distance. As he continued to ransack her chest in search for a heart, she never fought back or cried, as if she perceived the attack as the only way to show his love.
While her heart seemed elusive, least she stopped professing that annoying love of hers. Her body grew steadily heavier, causing him to seat her on the ground. He tried slitting her throat next has his hand balanced her head. Still, her undead life seemed too resilient.
Cursing his selection of cutlery, as he decides to saw her neck off. While apt for stabbing and slicing, smooth blades are not suited for sawing meat. Still, with diligence, her neck was jaggedly cut open to her spine. He was almost complete with decapitating her before two women arrived.
Apparently he hadn't been as discreet as he had been dedicated. The two approached, thinking something was indeed wrong with the scene. Yet nothing prepares one to randomly stumble upon such a horrific scene. One screamed, "What are you doing?" As if the answer wasn't obvious.
Perhaps the shock was too much that she wanted an explanation that was easier to swallow. She would learn tonight though, that nothing makes sense. "Mending reality," came his reply as he rose. With that he dashed off, out of the alley. The laughter and one of the women chased after him, but the laughter guided him with which path to take.
Safely on the other side of the mirror, he was back in the Labyrinth. Looking at his reflection, he finds Darwin grinning back to him as he takes the knife to his lips and relishes the blood peppered with chunks of skin.
Back at the alley, the laughter returned to its master, observing nearby from the shadows.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Hard Words, Heartbreak, and Departure
The last couple weeks had been a blur, since the day she sat in the Haven with Joah, Blue, her love, and two others she has forgotten the names of in her grief... Only some of the words from the hours long conversation still resound in her ears. Joah saying harshly, "Oh...I don't need to touch you Pontifex. Does your sweet angel know that you spend every waking hour away from her with Ardere?" And Pontifex's answer: "Not every waking hour…. And yes, I would be with her right now if I could."
She sat frozen after that, too stunned, angry, and hurt to move…then she felt the tears falling from her eyes and her body began to shake as she listened to their heated conversation until she couldn't take it any more so she fled…fled the Haven, fled Toxia to the home she shared with him...but it offered no comfort…not for the pain in her heart, cramping her stomach and stealing her breath. She needed no other proof than the words from his mouth…He wanted her.... had been with her again, would be with her now if he had a choice. So she wandered around the house. Numbly, she did as he bid in quiet silence unable to find the words to voice her pain to him.
One day he went to Toxia, leaving her to finish a task she had started, bidding her to come when she was finished. Having made sure what needed to be done was completed, she wandered up into their room. It felt cold and strange now, even as she slept beside him each night.... She didn't feel like this was home anymore. Sweeping the room with her eyes, she decided, there's nothing here for her now. Deciding that tonight, after following him to Toxia, she wouldn't be returning….
Arriving in Toxia, she slowly makes her way to the Library. She has always been able to sense where he is and has never once wondered what he was up to in Toxia the days she preferred to hide at home. Now she knows. Walking into the library she comes upon a strange scene. Joah was talking about binding demons. Blinking in confusion, she watches as Poncho scoffs at Joah and boldly steps forward mocking her, "Powerful enough to contain me?" Joah's only answer is to nod, just as boldly stepping forward, arms extending and radiating power.
Her eyes widen as she continues watching the scene. Something tells her this is wrong…and though he has hurt badly she can't bring herself to allow Joah to harm him, though she knows he probably brought it on himself. Crying out loudly at them, she moves to intervene. "Joah! What are you doing?!" All he does is smirk, seemingly unaffected by Joah's magic and saying, "Well then, best try it on me, before we go after the prey…."
She falters in mid stride, pulling back her arm that was extended towards them. Stopping the movement to look up at Poncho biting her lip, unsure of what he means. Saying in confusion, "What's going on?" She hears Joah taking deep breaths, moving towards Poncho as if she hadn't heard or seen her. Poncho finally notices her and looks over, smiling at her, obviously forgetting just how much she hurts right now and saying glibly, "Oh, just testing something...for Science!"
He turns his attention away from her back to Joah, leaving her to continue staring in confusion, the knot in her belly getting tighter. Still staring at him she frowns as he closes his eyes completely relaxing, she doesn't notice Joah doing the same, murmuring softly, "Lorne," Watching Joah continue to work her gentle magic, though from her perspective she can't tell if it's gentle or invasive, she steps forward again. Placing her arm on Joah's trying desperately to get her attention, saying worriedly, "Joah what are you doing to him? Stop it…"
All he does is stand there as if asleep on his feet, oblivious to all that's going on around him. The glass clicking on the table beyond them and another Omegan muttering softly as she too watches the strange happenings. Only to utter with a wince in her tone, "Was that necessary?" when Joah steps lightly away from her holding on to her arm and walks toward Pontifex, gently touching his face before brutally pulling a lock of his hair, roots and all, from his skull. The action leaving a rounded hole which starts to bleed dark blood into his hair. Leaving her once again to stare wide eyed and hurt that she was ignored, she cries out again, "Joah what are you doing! Stop!"
Joah only steps back, his hair in her hands, answering calmly and quietly, "It was necessary." Working her hands in a pulling motion, the magic's feel changes and Joah starts to shiver, saying again, "It will be alright, Merma." Stepping further back from Poncho, Joah continues to move her hands as the fire flares popping loudly. Merma shakes her head still frowning and turns to look up at Poncho who's asleep while standing, asking for a third...or fourth time, "What did you do to him...I want to know." The unknown Omegan answers her question, though it's more like she's making an observation. "Sympathetic magic.... That's scary stuff." She looks back at the girl, blinking before turning her attention back to Joah. Her emotions were unstable. She was ready to scream, to just fall down and sob, telling Joah with a threat and a tremble to her voice, "If you've harmed him...."
Joah finally turns to her, still very calm and collected, though giving her an answer by shaking her head slowly. "He asked whether I could bind a Demon. He'll be fine in a moment, Merma. I wouldn't harm your beloved." She bites her lip as tears threaten in her eyes, looking at Joah's hands clenched at her sides, not sure if she believes her or not. She whispers, "What did you do?" At the same time the other girl says, "He's not going to be happy about a hole in his scalp. You might want to heal that before he wakes up."
Falling distracted again, Joah closes her eyes, still talking to her and the other girl. "I mustn't heal him Kryss. He needs to know…. Merma.... You might say I... gentled him. That's all." She looks back at him shaking her head, blinking furiously, her angry feelings ebbing and flowing as she gazes on his comatose figure before answering Joah with a whisper. "He didn't need to be gentled." Missing the other girl's frown, still gazing upon him and unsure of what to do, she hears the girl say "Uh... It's going to hurt, regardless. Can we at least spare him unnecessary pain and simply tell him?"
Her attention once again goes to Joah, watching her shake her head, seemingly coming back to this world after the magic dissipates, though her attention is drawn to another Omegan who has entered. But Joah doesn't greet this new person, returning her gaze to Poncho. The other girl sighs and gives up lifting her hands towards Joah. "Sorry, I know…. Not my business."
She steps towards him, still biting on her lip, wanting to touch his expressionless face, to produce a reaction from his unresponsive body. But she just holds her hands to her side as her emotions churn. Spinning back to Joah her face shows the flurry of emotions going on inside her, demanding "Wake him up, Joah. Now." Joah keeps her eyes on Poncho, answering her with out looking. "He's waking, Merma." Then Joah closes her eyes for a moment as if trying to hold onto an image.
She steps back looking up at him, nibbling on her lip a moment before addressing Joah, keeping her eyes on Poncho and asking, "Why did you keep him this way this long?" But no answer is forthcoming as Poncho wakes, blinking sleep from his eyes and stumbling slightly towards the wall but catching himself before he falls.
Waking up from his daze he looks around but doesn't see her. He looks towards Joah instead, asking eagerly, "Well...?" Joah simply holds up the lock of Pontifex's hair, showing the bloody roots, remaining silent. Merma looks away biting her lip once more, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, trying to blink away the tears that threaten to fall, her emotional state quickly unravelling. He reaches up to touch his scalp, his fingers returning with moist blood. Looking back at Joah, he grins which turns into a chuckle and then a loud laugh, "Yes, this will do nicely...."
Pontifex turns to look at her, bloody fingers still in the air, but the shit-eating grin on his face showing little concern to her tears. He says giddily, "Come on, lets go home...." Joah turns away from them, tossing the hair into the fire, destroying it from further use. Turning back, she says softly to them, "Be safe Merma...Pontifex." Pontifex looks over to Joah momentarily serious, "You too...the dangerous part has yet to begin..." To which Joah nods just as seriously.
She nods to Joah's well wishes without looking up, missing Poncho's grin. She bites back her questions, all the things she wants to say, only to glance briefly up at Joah then looking away. Unsure if she really wants to know what they are referring too, she decides whatever it is it will not concern her, as she won't be here much longer. She hears boots walking on the old library wood as curious citizens enter the library. She can hear Joah breath in a deep breath hearing the soft ruffle of cloth indicating Joah has turned away, her attention given over to the new girl. This is confirmed when she hears Joah say to the new girl, "Kryss...would you please see to our guests?"
Still looking towards the floor she misses the wide smile Pontifex directs to her, excited with his and Joah's successful experiment, he again fails to notice how miserable she is. Leading the way to the door he also fails to notice how slowly she moves to follow him and the growing physical distance as they travel to the door. At the landing they both spread their wings heading towards their home away from the troubles of Toxia. Only one leaves with a light heart.
Once home she waits till he tires, pretending to read a book in her favorite chair. Poncho walks over to her still in a good mood. He yawns gustily, smiling down on her. Quickly bending at the waist to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, he informs her he is going to bed and she can join him when she is ready. She doesn't look up or answer, pretending to be absorbed in her book as she often gets listening quietly as he walks away whistling to himself. Watching him go she hears his heavy footfalls on the stairs down the hall way, then above her as he makes his way to their bedroom. Waiting what feels like years for him to begin to snore, indicating his depth of sleep, she slips from the couch and softly pads to the front door….
Taking the doorknob in her trembling hand, she breaths deeply, her chest heaving with sobs that threaten to burst out of her as she turns it. Her head lowered to the floor, silent tears drip down splattering on the carpet. Shaking her head briskly, wiping the tears from her eyes, she lifts her head to look back towards the stairs...half hoping he would discover her and make her stay. But she knows he's too deep asleep…and there is nothing to stop her. Turning away back to the door, she takes one step…then another.
Closing the door softly behind her, she doesn't look back she keeps putting one foot in front of the other striding down the lane. Her footfalls start out slowly, then they quicken until she's running as fast as she can go. Leaping into the air she flaps her wings, her running start making it easier to lift off and away from the ground, each flap of her wing taking her further away. Finally she lets lose her sobs when she's over the ocean, allowing her body to curl into a ball. She wraps her wings around her and lets her body plummet into the freezing waters, hoping to freeze her broken heart.
She sat frozen after that, too stunned, angry, and hurt to move…then she felt the tears falling from her eyes and her body began to shake as she listened to their heated conversation until she couldn't take it any more so she fled…fled the Haven, fled Toxia to the home she shared with him...but it offered no comfort…not for the pain in her heart, cramping her stomach and stealing her breath. She needed no other proof than the words from his mouth…He wanted her.... had been with her again, would be with her now if he had a choice. So she wandered around the house. Numbly, she did as he bid in quiet silence unable to find the words to voice her pain to him.
One day he went to Toxia, leaving her to finish a task she had started, bidding her to come when she was finished. Having made sure what needed to be done was completed, she wandered up into their room. It felt cold and strange now, even as she slept beside him each night.... She didn't feel like this was home anymore. Sweeping the room with her eyes, she decided, there's nothing here for her now. Deciding that tonight, after following him to Toxia, she wouldn't be returning….
Arriving in Toxia, she slowly makes her way to the Library. She has always been able to sense where he is and has never once wondered what he was up to in Toxia the days she preferred to hide at home. Now she knows. Walking into the library she comes upon a strange scene. Joah was talking about binding demons. Blinking in confusion, she watches as Poncho scoffs at Joah and boldly steps forward mocking her, "Powerful enough to contain me?" Joah's only answer is to nod, just as boldly stepping forward, arms extending and radiating power.
Her eyes widen as she continues watching the scene. Something tells her this is wrong…and though he has hurt badly she can't bring herself to allow Joah to harm him, though she knows he probably brought it on himself. Crying out loudly at them, she moves to intervene. "Joah! What are you doing?!" All he does is smirk, seemingly unaffected by Joah's magic and saying, "Well then, best try it on me, before we go after the prey…."
She falters in mid stride, pulling back her arm that was extended towards them. Stopping the movement to look up at Poncho biting her lip, unsure of what he means. Saying in confusion, "What's going on?" She hears Joah taking deep breaths, moving towards Poncho as if she hadn't heard or seen her. Poncho finally notices her and looks over, smiling at her, obviously forgetting just how much she hurts right now and saying glibly, "Oh, just testing something...for Science!"
He turns his attention away from her back to Joah, leaving her to continue staring in confusion, the knot in her belly getting tighter. Still staring at him she frowns as he closes his eyes completely relaxing, she doesn't notice Joah doing the same, murmuring softly, "Lorne," Watching Joah continue to work her gentle magic, though from her perspective she can't tell if it's gentle or invasive, she steps forward again. Placing her arm on Joah's trying desperately to get her attention, saying worriedly, "Joah what are you doing to him? Stop it…"
All he does is stand there as if asleep on his feet, oblivious to all that's going on around him. The glass clicking on the table beyond them and another Omegan muttering softly as she too watches the strange happenings. Only to utter with a wince in her tone, "Was that necessary?" when Joah steps lightly away from her holding on to her arm and walks toward Pontifex, gently touching his face before brutally pulling a lock of his hair, roots and all, from his skull. The action leaving a rounded hole which starts to bleed dark blood into his hair. Leaving her once again to stare wide eyed and hurt that she was ignored, she cries out again, "Joah what are you doing! Stop!"
Joah only steps back, his hair in her hands, answering calmly and quietly, "It was necessary." Working her hands in a pulling motion, the magic's feel changes and Joah starts to shiver, saying again, "It will be alright, Merma." Stepping further back from Poncho, Joah continues to move her hands as the fire flares popping loudly. Merma shakes her head still frowning and turns to look up at Poncho who's asleep while standing, asking for a third...or fourth time, "What did you do to him...I want to know." The unknown Omegan answers her question, though it's more like she's making an observation. "Sympathetic magic.... That's scary stuff." She looks back at the girl, blinking before turning her attention back to Joah. Her emotions were unstable. She was ready to scream, to just fall down and sob, telling Joah with a threat and a tremble to her voice, "If you've harmed him...."
Joah finally turns to her, still very calm and collected, though giving her an answer by shaking her head slowly. "He asked whether I could bind a Demon. He'll be fine in a moment, Merma. I wouldn't harm your beloved." She bites her lip as tears threaten in her eyes, looking at Joah's hands clenched at her sides, not sure if she believes her or not. She whispers, "What did you do?" At the same time the other girl says, "He's not going to be happy about a hole in his scalp. You might want to heal that before he wakes up."
Falling distracted again, Joah closes her eyes, still talking to her and the other girl. "I mustn't heal him Kryss. He needs to know…. Merma.... You might say I... gentled him. That's all." She looks back at him shaking her head, blinking furiously, her angry feelings ebbing and flowing as she gazes on his comatose figure before answering Joah with a whisper. "He didn't need to be gentled." Missing the other girl's frown, still gazing upon him and unsure of what to do, she hears the girl say "Uh... It's going to hurt, regardless. Can we at least spare him unnecessary pain and simply tell him?"
Her attention once again goes to Joah, watching her shake her head, seemingly coming back to this world after the magic dissipates, though her attention is drawn to another Omegan who has entered. But Joah doesn't greet this new person, returning her gaze to Poncho. The other girl sighs and gives up lifting her hands towards Joah. "Sorry, I know…. Not my business."
She steps towards him, still biting on her lip, wanting to touch his expressionless face, to produce a reaction from his unresponsive body. But she just holds her hands to her side as her emotions churn. Spinning back to Joah her face shows the flurry of emotions going on inside her, demanding "Wake him up, Joah. Now." Joah keeps her eyes on Poncho, answering her with out looking. "He's waking, Merma." Then Joah closes her eyes for a moment as if trying to hold onto an image.
She steps back looking up at him, nibbling on her lip a moment before addressing Joah, keeping her eyes on Poncho and asking, "Why did you keep him this way this long?" But no answer is forthcoming as Poncho wakes, blinking sleep from his eyes and stumbling slightly towards the wall but catching himself before he falls.
Waking up from his daze he looks around but doesn't see her. He looks towards Joah instead, asking eagerly, "Well...?" Joah simply holds up the lock of Pontifex's hair, showing the bloody roots, remaining silent. Merma looks away biting her lip once more, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, trying to blink away the tears that threaten to fall, her emotional state quickly unravelling. He reaches up to touch his scalp, his fingers returning with moist blood. Looking back at Joah, he grins which turns into a chuckle and then a loud laugh, "Yes, this will do nicely...."
Pontifex turns to look at her, bloody fingers still in the air, but the shit-eating grin on his face showing little concern to her tears. He says giddily, "Come on, lets go home...." Joah turns away from them, tossing the hair into the fire, destroying it from further use. Turning back, she says softly to them, "Be safe Merma...Pontifex." Pontifex looks over to Joah momentarily serious, "You too...the dangerous part has yet to begin..." To which Joah nods just as seriously.
She nods to Joah's well wishes without looking up, missing Poncho's grin. She bites back her questions, all the things she wants to say, only to glance briefly up at Joah then looking away. Unsure if she really wants to know what they are referring too, she decides whatever it is it will not concern her, as she won't be here much longer. She hears boots walking on the old library wood as curious citizens enter the library. She can hear Joah breath in a deep breath hearing the soft ruffle of cloth indicating Joah has turned away, her attention given over to the new girl. This is confirmed when she hears Joah say to the new girl, "Kryss...would you please see to our guests?"
Still looking towards the floor she misses the wide smile Pontifex directs to her, excited with his and Joah's successful experiment, he again fails to notice how miserable she is. Leading the way to the door he also fails to notice how slowly she moves to follow him and the growing physical distance as they travel to the door. At the landing they both spread their wings heading towards their home away from the troubles of Toxia. Only one leaves with a light heart.
Once home she waits till he tires, pretending to read a book in her favorite chair. Poncho walks over to her still in a good mood. He yawns gustily, smiling down on her. Quickly bending at the waist to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, he informs her he is going to bed and she can join him when she is ready. She doesn't look up or answer, pretending to be absorbed in her book as she often gets listening quietly as he walks away whistling to himself. Watching him go she hears his heavy footfalls on the stairs down the hall way, then above her as he makes his way to their bedroom. Waiting what feels like years for him to begin to snore, indicating his depth of sleep, she slips from the couch and softly pads to the front door….
Taking the doorknob in her trembling hand, she breaths deeply, her chest heaving with sobs that threaten to burst out of her as she turns it. Her head lowered to the floor, silent tears drip down splattering on the carpet. Shaking her head briskly, wiping the tears from her eyes, she lifts her head to look back towards the stairs...half hoping he would discover her and make her stay. But she knows he's too deep asleep…and there is nothing to stop her. Turning away back to the door, she takes one step…then another.
Closing the door softly behind her, she doesn't look back she keeps putting one foot in front of the other striding down the lane. Her footfalls start out slowly, then they quicken until she's running as fast as she can go. Leaping into the air she flaps her wings, her running start making it easier to lift off and away from the ground, each flap of her wing taking her further away. Finally she lets lose her sobs when she's over the ocean, allowing her body to curl into a ball. She wraps her wings around her and lets her body plummet into the freezing waters, hoping to freeze her broken heart.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
House of Mirrors
((This story ties directly in with Stormy Weather and the entries around that time. I suggest reading it and others surrounding Darwin to understand this entry. This entry is also paving a new darker path for poncho, for those who RP with me, don't fret, I have a good guy(tm) alt still))
It was the laughter that woke him. Standing before a full length mirror in some unlit warehouse. The laughter wasn't natural, a goofy exaggerated laugh one would expect from a mechanical children's toy. Looking in the mirror, it seemed like him, but something was off. The laughter echoed throughout the massive building. He could picture it belonging to one of those creepy clown dolls. Perhaps holding a pair of cymbals.
It dawned on him, the curiosity of the mirror. It did not wear his current clothes, but a different set. A set he wore when... His thoughts sharply interrupted by his mirrorself as it begins laughing that annoying toy laugh. It was then it occurred to him that he had no recollection of where he was or how he got there.
Bumping against something behind him, sending him into a panicked twist. He stands before another mirror, much like the first, this one with the image of Nareth. Now it came to him, the clothes his mirrorself wore were the ones he had on when he escorted her to her death. A death which happened nearly six months ago.
So gruesome were the details, that he had all but buried the memories. Her mirror busted into the same insulting laugh. She was back in town, alive and doing well. Nothing made sense. It was if her presence and the mirror's laughter served only to mock him.
Two more mirrors approached him, as if wheeled by an unseen labor force. These contained the visages of Larissa and Grr, both whom blamed him for Nareth's death. Neither wasted time in joining the insidious laughter. Visibly shaking, he spun around in search for an exit. More mirrors came dancing around him. In one was Choi, who gleefully informed, "You didn't kill her, Poncho. Lorne did," before she too began to laugh.
Inside the mirror's dancing partner stood the accused Lorne, as surreal and silent as ever. Offering only one of those looks that suggested you should already know what needed to be said. Except, nothing made sense. Lorne showed no sign of guilt as he went about the city, playing as a guide to this strange resurrected Nareth.
Stumbling away as Lorne's image added to the laughter, he awkwardly bumped against a small Grecian column. He nearly knocked over the red phone placed on it's mantle, which soon began ringing. Almost relieved to not have to face another mirror, he answered with weary exhaustion.
"It's your old pal, Darwin," announced the caller, the voice alone sending shivers. "I'm about to kill tonight, hope you aren't busy," already the caller's laughter started to rise, "Oh, and here's another clue. I'm you, moron." Slamming the receiver down, in a futile attempt to prevent another laughter from joining the host, he saw her.
In another mirror was Merma, walking away and crying. He knew she could make this go away. Running towards her, it seemed as if she paused momentarily, giving him a piece of hope. Then a pair of hands, both icy cold, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back, lifting him off his feet. He seemed to fall forever, only to find that he had landed in a mirror of his very own.
~~~~~
Chuckling to himself as he rocked the lifeless head of his latest victim. It made no sense why someone would tie themselves up, on the sole word that a guy with a knife won't kill them. In her blood he leaves a message for others to read, "It takes an insane man to be sane in an insane world." No, nothing made sense, but for him, nothing needed to.
It was the laughter that woke him. Standing before a full length mirror in some unlit warehouse. The laughter wasn't natural, a goofy exaggerated laugh one would expect from a mechanical children's toy. Looking in the mirror, it seemed like him, but something was off. The laughter echoed throughout the massive building. He could picture it belonging to one of those creepy clown dolls. Perhaps holding a pair of cymbals.
It dawned on him, the curiosity of the mirror. It did not wear his current clothes, but a different set. A set he wore when... His thoughts sharply interrupted by his mirrorself as it begins laughing that annoying toy laugh. It was then it occurred to him that he had no recollection of where he was or how he got there.
Bumping against something behind him, sending him into a panicked twist. He stands before another mirror, much like the first, this one with the image of Nareth. Now it came to him, the clothes his mirrorself wore were the ones he had on when he escorted her to her death. A death which happened nearly six months ago.
So gruesome were the details, that he had all but buried the memories. Her mirror busted into the same insulting laugh. She was back in town, alive and doing well. Nothing made sense. It was if her presence and the mirror's laughter served only to mock him.
Two more mirrors approached him, as if wheeled by an unseen labor force. These contained the visages of Larissa and Grr, both whom blamed him for Nareth's death. Neither wasted time in joining the insidious laughter. Visibly shaking, he spun around in search for an exit. More mirrors came dancing around him. In one was Choi, who gleefully informed, "You didn't kill her, Poncho. Lorne did," before she too began to laugh.
Inside the mirror's dancing partner stood the accused Lorne, as surreal and silent as ever. Offering only one of those looks that suggested you should already know what needed to be said. Except, nothing made sense. Lorne showed no sign of guilt as he went about the city, playing as a guide to this strange resurrected Nareth.
Stumbling away as Lorne's image added to the laughter, he awkwardly bumped against a small Grecian column. He nearly knocked over the red phone placed on it's mantle, which soon began ringing. Almost relieved to not have to face another mirror, he answered with weary exhaustion.
"It's your old pal, Darwin," announced the caller, the voice alone sending shivers. "I'm about to kill tonight, hope you aren't busy," already the caller's laughter started to rise, "Oh, and here's another clue. I'm you, moron." Slamming the receiver down, in a futile attempt to prevent another laughter from joining the host, he saw her.
In another mirror was Merma, walking away and crying. He knew she could make this go away. Running towards her, it seemed as if she paused momentarily, giving him a piece of hope. Then a pair of hands, both icy cold, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back, lifting him off his feet. He seemed to fall forever, only to find that he had landed in a mirror of his very own.
~~~~~
Chuckling to himself as he rocked the lifeless head of his latest victim. It made no sense why someone would tie themselves up, on the sole word that a guy with a knife won't kill them. In her blood he leaves a message for others to read, "It takes an insane man to be sane in an insane world." No, nothing made sense, but for him, nothing needed to.
Friday, December 26, 2008
The Lement of Adam
((This is dedicated in memory of my wife's step-mother. Who passed away recently in a room full of people who loved her and whose absence is felt in each of our hearts. ))
The clanging from the rack of glasses over the bar blended seemlessly with the chattering at the club. Below their feet pulsed the hard beats eminating from the bass speakers, the only part of the music anyone could clearly distinguish.
Ue wo muite arukou
People all around lost themselves in the crowd, except for the two who lost themselves in each other. Smiling dreamily, their hands flat on the table with just their fingertips barely touching.
Namida ga koborenai youni
Their oasis interrupted as the bartender brought another round. Returning his eyes to her charm, her seat was empty and untouched. His fingertips brushing a half dozen empty beer bottles. Another night in this bar.
Omoidasu haru no hi
Though he discounted the warmth he felt on the alcohol, she was there, connecting his fingertips to hers. Wither as spirit, soul or perhaps truly a figment of his desires. She was always by his side. No one lives in our hearts rent free.
Hitoribocchi no yoru
The clanging from the rack of glasses over the bar blended seemlessly with the chattering at the club. Below their feet pulsed the hard beats eminating from the bass speakers, the only part of the music anyone could clearly distinguish.
Ue wo muite arukou
People all around lost themselves in the crowd, except for the two who lost themselves in each other. Smiling dreamily, their hands flat on the table with just their fingertips barely touching.
Namida ga koborenai youni
Their oasis interrupted as the bartender brought another round. Returning his eyes to her charm, her seat was empty and untouched. His fingertips brushing a half dozen empty beer bottles. Another night in this bar.
Omoidasu haru no hi
Though he discounted the warmth he felt on the alcohol, she was there, connecting his fingertips to hers. Wither as spirit, soul or perhaps truly a figment of his desires. She was always by his side. No one lives in our hearts rent free.
Hitoribocchi no yoru
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Figurehead
After a lazy afternoon nap, she reluctantly crawls out of bed. Finding her lover on the upper deck, he stands looking across the flat emptiness of sea. She loved these excursions, miles away from any where, alone together.
Turning towards her, he looks like a man who has spent the day thinking out a plan. "Stand at the bow of the ship and remove your clothes please," he asks with a soft but solid voice.
Without question, she begins to remove her bikini but pauses nibbling her lip, "is that the front of the ship Sir?" He nods, causing her a bright smile as she continues to relieve herself of clothing. Leaving them where they fall on the ship.
With a deep breath as his hand travels up one side of her body, over the shoulders and down the other. His eyes roaming over each part, charting out the look with the feel of her skin. "Do you know what the figurehead of a ship was for?"
Letting her eyelids droop with shiver of anticipated excitement as his hands roam her skin. With a soft purr she replies, "i think it was to keep the ship safe Sir." Recalling a tale she heard, "they used to use real girls, virgins."
Chuckles at the thought of using her for such a ritual. He circles her body, "Well, thats one tale." Starting with a sharp smack against her butt. "A far less imaginitive purpose was to identify ships in a largely illiterate society." Another smack against the ass, "Tell me, if people saw you right now, what would they name this ship?"
She smiles watching him with her eyes which widen as she yelps from the smack. Holding her arms to her side, she knows what to expect with their play, though wanting to rub at her bottom. Yelping again with a slight jump forward, she looks back over her shoulder. Her cheeks flushed as she blinks furiously while nibbling her lip. Feeling her ass throb lightly, "oh, that would depend on who you asked. Some we know I'm sure would call it somethign witty and sarcastic."
Reaching around, grabbing one breast tightly in his hand pulling her into him. Then with a another smack on your ass, "Should I call a friend here to find out?"
She gasps as he pins her arms to her side, whimpering at the smack. She tries to look up at him shaking her head, "no Sir. I would like to have you to myself.."
Another smack against her ass, "Then tell me," smack,"if we were to sail into harbor," smack, "with all those eyes staring at you," another smack and with each he squeezes your breast harder, "what would they name this ship?"
She yelps and whimpers with each smack on her reddening ass. Panting, the corners of her beading eyes as she looks at him. Saying haltingly between moans, "His lady, Sir.. " Smiling with her declaration, her eyes now shining.
Reaching up to grab the other breast, mauling both roughly, as he orders with a whisper "Lean back against me." She moans arching against him, trembling against his body. His other hand leaves the tender breast to travel down her body and to her sex. "Now tell me, with the whole port gazing upon your naked form, how would you feel?"
Tilting her head to the side exposing her neck as she whimpers and moans loudly while his hand lides over her stomach to her moistening sex. Fluttering her eyes she looks over to the side of the ship imagining docks full of people staring at her naked and flushed form, parts of my body reder from his hand prints. Feeling her cheeks heat her body, she trembles more violently against him. "Embarrassed, proud, small, aroused," she cries out in reply.
Chuckling as his hand drifts to stoke her thigh, "All perfectly good answers, save one." His grip on your breast was her only warning before the sharp smack against her thigh. "Never be embarrassed, always be proud. Proud that you are My lady," he tells her. Another smack, now higher up, this time his hand holds firmly against her stinging flesh.
Her breath comes as short soft pants starting to nod but gasps out as he squeezes her breast, before crying out louder with the smack. Whimpering she tries to open her mouth to agree but only another cry comes from her throat as he smacks hard against her leg. Blinking past the tears, she tilts her head up and nods. "Yes Sir. I shall always be proud. I am Your lady."
Kissing her neck, allowing hot air from his nostrils to warm her skin. He rests her body against his chest. She shivers, closing her eyes leaning her head back against his shoulder. With his other hand is free to reach for her thigh. Goosebumps rising on her tingling and burning skin as his hand side down.
Together his hands, spread her legs, which do so eliciting moans from her. More and more, while squeezing her thighs. Then they begin, first left, then right, smacking your thighs. With each slap, his lust crazed voice echos out, "Mine, mine, mine, mine."
Moans turning to cries and whimpers as his hands alternate slamming into her flesh. Attempting to nod with whimpering agreement"yes Sir... Yours."
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Desert of our Hearts
How did jealously creep into his heart?
Was it the one woman who made him smile like no other.
Or the thought that someone else made her smile as well.
Was he happier with many women?
The pain eased with their coming and leaving.
The barbs of jealousy never too deep.
But it was just a dream, wasn't it?
When he woke up, she was gone.
She was only in his mind.
Aren't we all just in our minds?
We cry for the hero.
We feel their loss just like any other.
But do they feel pain?
He would prefer to scream at her, beat her.
Anything than to lose her.
How did jealousy creep into my heart?
Alone with only my jealousy.
With only myself to scream at and beat.
Every time I think of her
My dream
Was it the one woman who made him smile like no other.
Or the thought that someone else made her smile as well.
Was he happier with many women?
The pain eased with their coming and leaving.
The barbs of jealousy never too deep.
But it was just a dream, wasn't it?
When he woke up, she was gone.
She was only in his mind.
Aren't we all just in our minds?
We cry for the hero.
We feel their loss just like any other.
But do they feel pain?
He would prefer to scream at her, beat her.
Anything than to lose her.
How did jealousy creep into my heart?
Alone with only my jealousy.
With only myself to scream at and beat.
Every time I think of her
My dream
Friday, November 14, 2008
Calm before the Storm
Storming out of the room after arguing with her Sir she wanders down the road tears forming in her eyes then silently falling down her cheeks. Looking down at the road she kicks rocks with her bare feet her thin silks swishing angrily as she walks. Impatiently brushing the tears from her eyes she tries to calm herself to slow her beating heart and stop the pounding of blood in her ears.
She hates getting mad, hates getting mad at him.. more so hates getting mad at herself. She had misunderstood, and so had freed herself to be available to him, had made no plans to be anywhere he was not. She had misunderstood that he wouldn’t be available as much as she was expecting. He had told her he would be working.. but even as it got later into the evening she didn’t realize it would be most of the night as well.
Feeling ignored she does what she does best at the worst times and opened her mouth to speak in anger in clipped sharp tones. Her Sir puts down his work and turns around giving her a measured gaze, to her eyes it seemed impassive to her wounded heart. Arching a brow at her expression he says in an even tones "I thought I had made myself clear.. that I would be working, and would take breaks when I'm able." She frowns and crosses her arms dejected, hurt, and angry because she felt ignored. Shaking her head at him she again says in sharp tones "no Sir.. if you had I wouldn’t be here I wouldn’t have made sure I would be here."
Again he looks at her impassively seemingly immune to her angry expression and stance, then he turns and goes back to work saying over his shoulder "I thought I had made myself clear.. I would be working. We'll try for another night to spend some time together." Seeing his indifference causes her temper to flare, digging her fingers into her arms she practically screams at him "fine.. whatever I'm going to do this.. you work and I'll be back when you have time for me." to angry to call him Sir.
Leaning over to pick up one of the pebbles on the road she rolls it around in her palm then squeezes it tight in her fist. She knows his work is important and that he had been waiting and working hard to get to the point where he could complete this task before him.. Pulling back her arm with the pebble in it she prepares to toss it and maybe some of her anger down the road and away from herself. After doing so her mood does change one to sadness and guilt that she had quarrelled with her Sir when he was under stress.
She knows she probably made him angry by yelling, then by storming out and not telling him where she was going.. He does not like it when she hides from him.. she knows this and at the time was too angry to care. But now.. she's no longer angry just sad and guilty because she had misunderstood, had been selfish and impatient not willing to accept the small moments he would have given her that night.
Returning the next morning she walks back to the house they share her Sir and her his flower. She walks slowly talking to herself in her mind while worrying at her bottom lip. She doesn’t know what his mood will be she had been gone a day without a word to him.Reaching the door she doesn’t knock.. after all this is her home. Slipping in quietly she walks on soft travel stained bare feet across the carpet to the opening to the living room. Stopping at the entryway she can see him, his expression, and his cane... and knows she made him angrier than she had imagined.....
She hates getting mad, hates getting mad at him.. more so hates getting mad at herself. She had misunderstood, and so had freed herself to be available to him, had made no plans to be anywhere he was not. She had misunderstood that he wouldn’t be available as much as she was expecting. He had told her he would be working.. but even as it got later into the evening she didn’t realize it would be most of the night as well.
Feeling ignored she does what she does best at the worst times and opened her mouth to speak in anger in clipped sharp tones. Her Sir puts down his work and turns around giving her a measured gaze, to her eyes it seemed impassive to her wounded heart. Arching a brow at her expression he says in an even tones "I thought I had made myself clear.. that I would be working, and would take breaks when I'm able." She frowns and crosses her arms dejected, hurt, and angry because she felt ignored. Shaking her head at him she again says in sharp tones "no Sir.. if you had I wouldn’t be here I wouldn’t have made sure I would be here."
Again he looks at her impassively seemingly immune to her angry expression and stance, then he turns and goes back to work saying over his shoulder "I thought I had made myself clear.. I would be working. We'll try for another night to spend some time together." Seeing his indifference causes her temper to flare, digging her fingers into her arms she practically screams at him "fine.. whatever I'm going to do this.. you work and I'll be back when you have time for me." to angry to call him Sir.
Leaning over to pick up one of the pebbles on the road she rolls it around in her palm then squeezes it tight in her fist. She knows his work is important and that he had been waiting and working hard to get to the point where he could complete this task before him.. Pulling back her arm with the pebble in it she prepares to toss it and maybe some of her anger down the road and away from herself. After doing so her mood does change one to sadness and guilt that she had quarrelled with her Sir when he was under stress.
She knows she probably made him angry by yelling, then by storming out and not telling him where she was going.. He does not like it when she hides from him.. she knows this and at the time was too angry to care. But now.. she's no longer angry just sad and guilty because she had misunderstood, had been selfish and impatient not willing to accept the small moments he would have given her that night.
Returning the next morning she walks back to the house they share her Sir and her his flower. She walks slowly talking to herself in her mind while worrying at her bottom lip. She doesn’t know what his mood will be she had been gone a day without a word to him.Reaching the door she doesn’t knock.. after all this is her home. Slipping in quietly she walks on soft travel stained bare feet across the carpet to the opening to the living room. Stopping at the entryway she can see him, his expression, and his cane... and knows she made him angrier than she had imagined.....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)