Encore;; More, please more!
WrittenBy:Shannello
AN: Goshh, just read it. Edited: 9/20/08
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It's so dark, you think, and cold. There's an enticing shadow in the corner of the inn's room, or is it on the edge of your shaking vision? You don't know, and you bring your knees up to your chest, slowly dragging your heels against the rough floorboards. Something whispers from under the bed, or was it from behind the closed door? It's cold, and bites into your bone, into your skin, whispering darkly, how could you let them do this? How could you fail me?
Oh, the pain. It's not even real, not even there, but you feel it. It's hard and thick, and although you slide yourself into the corner, away from the door, away from the bed, you can still feel it on your toes, on your toes.
Listen to yourself. "This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real." What isn't real? His death? His mutilation? You can't bring yourself to think of that, again, seeing his corpse, hanging high, bleeding, looking so soft, yet feeling so… cold.
You sit there, looking so weak, so vulnerable. What would he say to you?
Don't seem so fragile. You tempt me to break you.
No, push his words away. You hate those words; how soft they sounded as his hand stroked your chin, but achingly, you knew how aggressive they actually were. You pictured him throwing you down, breaking your jaw, smashing you into the stone walls, and you didn't know if you'd honestly care.
Even now, you don't know.
Revenge revenge revenge revenge revenge revenge; you want it. You feel so delusional, so empty, that words dance across your eyes. How'd they go again? greenblueREDyelloworangegreenblueREDyelloworangegreenblueREDyelloworangegreenblueREDyelloworangegreenblueREDyelloworangeBLACKBLACKBLACKBLACKBLACK!!
Ohh, the words hit you so hard, so sudden, that you scream out, unaware that you had even spoken. You bring your fingers to your lips, kissing them like he did, once before. You miss him, but you can't bring yourself to cry, and you hate yourself because of that.
"He's… Lucien is dead. Dead. Dead." Try saying it three times fast.
But you grow angrier as you do, your lips grow cold, your arms twitch, lusting for blades, for blood, for revenge.
Yes, how sweet revenge would taste. It'd be like his lips against yours, shrouding your mouth in darkness, sanguine, tasting like death, tasting like untouched coffins, and blood.
And, ahh, to join him. There, beside your Dread Father, your Night Mother, perhaps he'd forgive you, thank you for slaughtering those motherless bastards in your grief-stricken blight. Oh, how you would like that. You'd cry, then.
The floor feels hot, like his breath, and your limbs are stiff and lifeless like his. You want to move, don't you? You want to get up, rise from this place like a ghost seeking redemption, or was it retaliation? Both seem so alike through your dark, tear-dry eyes.
Yes, then, you will do it. You will slide through the shadows like he taught you, and deliver Purification to those wretched people, who took him from you, took him from you, him from you, from you.
He's all around you, now, whispering, let them feel the pain you suffered. Let them die and fall into hell.
And you agree with him. You've always agreed with him, fuck, you let him send you across Tamriel, let him make you slaughter people you don't even know, people with families, lovers, lives. Well, not anymore, not since Lucien striped every ounce of . And what do you call all that, but love? You'd have to be completely in love with him to let him put you through all that.
You've been so stupid. You shouldn't have smiled at him, whispering to him in that breathless room, yes, I will surrender myself to Sithis. You should have laughed and ran away, hoping he would let this one go, no matter how promising they could have been.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, oh, god, just let yourself go. No tears. No tears.
Just blood.
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There's something on your mind.
Ohh, what is it?
You can't recall, you're just too happy. Sitting in a puddle of cold blood, peeling skin off an orange, smiling.
Applewatch isn't such a horrid place, even with all the blood. You're a little nervous around the corpse of that dog, but Lucien's with you, and since he's dead his allergies don't matter. It almost feels like… home, now that you're reunited. You bite into an orange slice, your fingers slippery, juice trickling down your chin. Ahh, it feels wonderful, sitting here, beside him. You almost feel… pious, like heaven crumbled and sunk around you.
Lucien hangs beside you, still chained like a traitor, but this is fine. You've had your revenge, and now his spirit can rest, or not. You'd probably irritate the poor fool to death, telling him over, and over how jealous you are of Arquen. She devoured your beloved's entrails, how scandalous.
He's still so handsome, you think, though most of him is gone his heavy presence still remains. You shiver in pleasure; you can almost feel his weighted gaze when you look away from his mess. He's so pale and almost not Lucien, but you know, ohh, you know that it's him. You know the curve of his shoulders, the slope of his calves, and now you know the depth of his chest, and the shape of his white, white ribs.
So, there's nothing left for you to do now, except eat your weight in oranges and wait out your hollowed days until Lucien wakes you from your nightmares, once again, asking you to join him.
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Review? Puh-lease.