Guess who's decided to post all the rest of her Pydia stuff here?
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The Harvest Moon has passed and now everyone in the village becomes tense as they wait for the next girl to be Chosen, wondering if there even will be a Chosen this year. It's bean so long, they can fool themselves into thinking that the Monster's gone. That they no longer have to pay tribute to their guardian devil.
In the night the Monster passes through, stopping at a door and carving a spiral deep into the wood.
000
For a moment Lydia's heart freezes when she opens the door. But it's not long before she's in control of her senses again and closes the door. She returns to her room to change; if she's going to die in a week she might as well look her best.
When she emerges from the house in dark blue the whispers and oblique looks have already begun. Head held as high as any queen she walks past the whispering neighbors to the market.
The news has already traveled here as well, she can tell from the fear in the merchants' eyes. But here she can use their fear to her advantage, getting what she needs for free, she is the Chosen after all, who knows what will happen if she's angered. The local jeweler is so terrified that he practically begs her to take the hairpin she eyes for a moment; she takes a brooch as well.
Only one person smiles at her on her way home, but she hurries away before Stiles starts making impossible promises about 'saving her', if he's not careful the Fair Folk will take notice and hold him to those promises.
Her mother's having an hysteric and her father's just staring at the wall across from him. She bites back an annoyed sigh as she puts away the food she's gotten, all the while wondering how these two are her parents. Though at least now her mother can stop bothering her about getting married.
Lydia's return changes her mother's focus and she starts going out about hiring hunters to finally kill the Monster that stalks the woods and this time Lydia allows herself a derisive snort. They'd tried that with the last Chosen, when Lydia had been about eight, a few days later there were skins nailed to the front of the Mayor's house. After that their little town had started actively dissuading travelers from visiting, or even passing through. They didn't need the whole world to know about the Deal.
That stream hadn't completely dried up though. Just last year there'd been a fairly handsome noble's son who stopped for a night, his guards commending the sheriff on keeping the woods free of outlaws and robbers. She and her mother had had their first fight that night, with her mother encouraging her to run off with the son.
Unlike her mother Lydia had been to the City where the nobles lived, to visit her older sister, and it had been even more of a cesspool than the town's pig-stye. She wouldn't live there even if it mean living past the week.
In the end it hadn't mattered, the butcher-boy ran off with him instead.
000
For Lydia it's like being treated like royalty, she can do no wrong in her final week and the whole town soon starts tripping over itself to keep her happy.
Her first wedding gift comes on Watersday. She opens to door to find a pine jeweler's case sitting on the mat. Her hands snatch it up and she raced back to her room. Only when she's certain her parents, or anyone else for that matter, won't disturb her does she open it.
A choker of bone, gold chain, and a strange dark stone rests on blood-red velvet. The chain weaves in and out of the intricately carved bone, her fingers gently brushing against spirals and symbols she doesn't know. As she picks it up she's surprised to note it's warm to the touch. For a moment her fingers fumble at the clasp, but they soon steady and she gets it open. It fits perfectly around her throat, the middle of the seventeen stones resting against her breastbone.
Quickly she grabs her cloak and wraps it around herself as she races out the door, uncaring that she's only half-decent. The distorted view from her mother's steel cooking pot isn't enough; she heads to the Jeweler and his silvered mirror.
On the way back she kills the man, the element arrow maker she thinks as he tries to tear her bodice off, fool enough to think that just because she's been Chosen by the Monster she'll spread her legs for any man. The wedding may be forced, but he is, for all intents of purposes, her affianced and she will be faithful to him as a woman truly in love would.
Stiles is the one that finds her, rifling through the man's pockets like a common thief, at the sight of the corpse he throws up on her shoes. Her nose wrinkles in disgust, though considering the amount of arrowheads she's just 'received' she's willing to forgive him.
The next morning brings with it another gift. This time it doesn't come in a case, just lays in front of the door, daring anyone but her to take it. She picks up the knife with more reverence than she did the pine box. The pommel and hilt are made of the strange dark stone, the Jeweler had called it shadow's breath, and bone respectively. On the bone are the same carvings as on her choker, done deeper for ease of grip. The blade, when she finally pulls the knife out of it's simple sheath, is the finest piece of steel she's ever seen.
She wonders if the Monster has a sense of humor as she attaches it to her belt.
Airsday also bring the beginning of the preparations for her 'wedding'. The townspeople might be afraid of the Monster, but it doesn't stop them from attempting to throw a great feast for the Chosen, their savior for who knows how many years; there's a running bet ranging from a year to her killing the Monster once and for all.
The town square is a flurry of activity when she arrives at the dressmakers. Workers are building a stage and tables for the upcoming feast while cooks viciously haggle for their ingredients. Girls her age are making be-ribboned banners, studiously ignoring her. She does the same and enters the shop.
Only to begin an argument with the seamstress over fabrics. Lydia won't be paying and that means the woman wants her to wear common black linen, while Lydia insists on a dark gold silk that feels like water in her hands and a deep, dark, patterned purple velvet. Eventually Lydia browbeats the seamstress so thoroughly that not only does she agree to the fabrics, she doesn't even bother to argue about design. She gratefully leaves after the woman's taken her measurements.
000
Firesday brings no gifts from the Monster, though Stiles does bring her food.
Shadowsday again has no new gifts, but she does have her first fitting for the dress.
Sunsday leaves the whole town nearly empty as everyone searches for flowers for the ceremony tomorrow. The babes and very young children she's supposed to look after gape at her in awe. The elders watching over the children with her shake their heads as always, though she can see respect in their eyes at her demeanor. When the townspeople return, baskets overflowing with late blossoms, an impromptu party erupts.
000
Moonsday begins with rain, and her racing to the dressmakers for her second and final fitting. Her mother, it seems, is finally accepting the fact that Lydia is leaving tonight to never be seen again, and comes with her; pinning and braiding her hair while she chats with the seamstress about 'this and that'.
When they've finished Lydia looks like a dream come to life. Her golden shawl also acts as her veil and she covers her head as the three of them stare out the window, willing the rain to go away before noon. The town clock rings out eleven before the rain finally does cease and she can leave. She draws up short though when she notices a bouquet of purple-blue flowers resting on the dressmaker's step. Gingerly she picks them up, thinking them dried, pleasantly surprised when she realizes they're not.
Lifting the hem of her dress she makes her way from the shop to the covered dais now on the stage. There's only one seat, a simple wooden one that looks like it could be from any of the nearby houses, which she takes; carefully re-arraigning her skirt to fall perfectly. She can do nothing now but wait, hands clutching the bouquet in her lap.
Soon the sun comes out, quickly turning the town square into a soft misty place, before that too burns away.
Every minutes passes with the ominous shunck of the clock behind her moving closer and closer to twelve. As the appointed time grows nearer more and more people start filling into the square. There might be a feast after the ceremony but that doesn't stop enterprising cooks from hawking their wares now, while they can still get money from them. Children dart to-and-fro in the crowd, laughing and playing tag.
Like a wave moving towards the beach though silence begins to fall on the crowd, until even the children are silent and still; all eyes not on her but at the woods at the other end of the square, where the Monster will emerge. The clock tower chimes out noon, and she's close enough that she can hear the whirring of the clockwork as figurines preform to an uninterested crowd. The twelfth chime is fading into an echo when it, objectively she knows the 'it' is a 'he' but the town is so used to calling the Monster 'it' that it's been ingrained in her, appears.
Easily as large as any draft horse the Monster steps out from the tress and into the sun-lit square. Like her it too wears jewelry of bone, gold, and shadow's breath, the dark stone nearly blending into it's black-brown fur. It's bright blue eyes are focused only on her as it approaches the dais, barely noticing the crowd parting before it.
It. . .He doesn't bother with the short flight stairs and just leaps straight onto the stage. She watches him warily as he prowls around her chair, wariness turns to anger when she realizes he's inspecting her. "You chose me, you don't get to have second thoughts." Lydia keeps her voice soft so he's the only one who hears her. He rears back, hopefully in surprise of her brashness; though she still feels a brief spark of fear that he'll hurt her for her comment. Instead he throws back his head and laughs. It's quite a nice laugh, considering.
He crooks a finger at the priest who scurries over nervously. The priest starts speaking about the re-forging of the covenant between the Beast, you never call him Monster to his face, and the town. How the Beast will protect them for any and all who would would seek ill of the town and in return he has his pick of the maidens after his previous Chosen dies. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
Even the beast looks tired of the speech, she wonders how many times he's heard it. Some say that the Monster is immortal, while others claim that it's a new Monster every time, the son or daughter of the previous one. She'll find out whichever it is soon enough most likely.
The clock rings the half-hour as the priest finally finishes his sermon. He pulls out a bright red ribbon, and she stands, moving to face the Monster. He raises his left hand, she her right and the priest ties them together quite thoroughly, something akin to sparks, or what had her sister called it? Electricity?, passes through her at their first touch. And she finally hears the Monster speak. "I swear to be faithful to you, and care for you, Lydia, my Chosen, so long as you shall live."
She takes a deep breath. "I, Lydia, swear to be a good and faithful wife to you O Beast, so long as I shall live."
And like that, they're wed. There's an almost imperceptible relaxing of the crowd as they cheer, only half-forced. Lydia returns to her chair, still bound to the Monster who follows to sit at her feet, the perfect picture of a tamed beast.
They watch the crowd break apart and start bringing in the food and tables for the feast. Somewhere a musician begins playing a flute and a few others begin to sing along with the tune.
When the food is served she gets the first choice of everything. It's a bit hard with only one hand free but she manages to cut what food she gets into smaller pieces and begins eating, and feeding the Monster.
Feeding him is a disturbingly intimate act, especially with his teeth gently scraping her fingers, or his tongue chasing a stray drop of liquid before it reaches her dress. Each repetition sends a little shiver down her spine, though of what she can't tell.
Lydia and the Monster remain on the dais for hours, just the two of them. No one passes by and wishes them well, or hopes they have plenty of children, or any of the other usual platitudes given at normal weddings. Her only interactions with the town now is asking for more food, she might be full, but the Monster isn't.
It's starting to get dark and the townsfolk have broken out the beer, wine, and cider, none of which is offered to her. The Monster stands, forcing her to stand with him. Nobody notices as he leads her off the stage.
In silence they travel to her house where she collects her things. There's not much to gather: her dresses, the knife he gave her, the arrowheads full of magic.
Once they're back outside he unbinds them, her hand tingles as she briefly rubs it. He surprises her by taking the ribbon and blindfolding her with it. Her heart pounds against her breast as she feels him take her things out of her arms. A hot breath rushes past her ear and she shivers. "Run."
Contrary to his command she freezes, her mind a wash of confusion, he want her to run through the forest blindfolded at night? He chuckles and she can feel a claw brush against the skin of her side, on it's heels is the realization that he cut through her dress, bastard. "So you'd rather I take you here then? In front of your parent's house where anyone can find us." Another claw brushes against her spine, she's not sure how yet but she's going to make him pay for ruining this dress. "Because if that's what you want little one, I'm more than happy to oblige."
Her breath leaves her in a rush and it feels like she can speak again. "No."
"Well then, you'd better run." He punctuates his statement with the claw on her spine digging in, pain flashing through her.
Heedless of anything else she runs.
000
Lydia has no idea where she is when he crashes into her, sending them both to the ground. She's not Stiles who wanders around the woods like it's his second home; it also doesn't help that she's still blindfolded. He rolls her over so her back's on the ground, for a moment she lets herself mourn the loss of her beautiful shawl now somewhere amongst the trees, but he quickly draws her attention back to him with his face pressing up against her neck. He scrapes his teeth here too, just as gently as her fingers.
"You smell beautiful." His slightly damp nose brushes against the spot behind her ear. She wants to speak, but her throat feels dry and parched, each heaving breath she takes right now is a painful one, and her head's gone muzzy. He chuckles; claws slicing through the stays of her dress. Hands pull her dress off and he gives what she thinks is a pleased hum.
His warmth presses closer, and she doesn't know if she should be euphoric or frightened. Claws prickle against her skin as he strokes her sides and stomach, moving lower and lower with every stroke and. . .
Her mind blanks when he touches her, fingers and claws teasing and stroking, doing things she'd never really thought about. And even though her throat's as dry as a drought he still manages to wring out a tiny moan from her. The hum turns into a rumble. "Will you always be this quiet? I wonder what I could do to make you scream."
The fingers inside her twist, she only gives a soft sob in response.
His fingers begin to pull out and her insides clench, trying to keep him there. It's to no avail and a moment later she fells like he's left her there, her fingers scramble to take of her blindfold. "No," his voice sounds right at her ear. She moves her hands away and waits. For the longest time there's nothing, and as each moment passes she becomes more aware of everything. His breathing sounds as ragged as her own and she thinks she can almost hear his heartbeat. She swears she can smell the leaves and pine needles prickling her back.
Finally he moves, his warm body pressing close once more, hands reaching down to her thighs to spread them. Heat rises through her, this isn't what her mother described to her, what the other girls giggled and gossiped about. The storm he's turned her into frightens her.
He begins to enter her, stretching her in ways that make her squirm; which sends him even deeper. When he's seated all the way she gives a little whine, it's too much, her body can't take much more.
And then he starts thrusting.
Claws dig into her sides, adding pain to the pleasure he's starting to give her.
She realizes she was wrong, this is what she can't take much more of. But he keeps giving it to her.
Her hands scrabble for something to grasp and she manages to find his shoulders, digging her fingers under the short coat of fur to reach the skin beneath. He growls and her nails pierce flesh, but it only seems to drive him faster. Sending her careening who knows where.
Then she's there and another tiny moan escapes her. He keeps thrusting though, uncaring that she feels more like a stuffing-less rag doll than a woman right now.
A roar echos in her ears, making her hair stand on end, as he spills inside her.
She finds herself drifting off as he removes the blindfold, nuzzling gently at her cheek.
000
She awakes to something silky-soft and decadent brushing against her stomach as she rolls over a little bit. Opening her eyes she's surprised to find herself in a large one-room cabin, or at least that's what she thinks it is. Across from her is a kitchen and a small table with chairs. She sits up taking the silky-soft thing, a pelt of fur she notices, with her to cover herself. Which is good and bad because she's covered, but the fur is brushing against her already over-stimulated skin and it hurts, just a little. There's a lit fireplace with a large copper tub sitting in front of it, at the foot of the tub there's an ancient looking gramophone, hissing out the white noise at the end of whatever record had been playing.
He is nowhere to be seen; she wonders if he even has a name, something to ask later. Gingerly she climbs out of bed; a real bed, though she's revising that to a mostly real bed since it seems to just be a mattress piled high with more pelts. Her legs wobble a bit but she manages to make it to the tub with no serious problems. Said tub is half filled with water and she dips a finger in, pleased to note it's the perfect temperature. Tossing the fur back onto the bed she climbs in, taking care to make sure her hair doesn't touch the water. She doesn't bother to re-set the record, just lets the white noise fade to the background as she soaks away the aches and pains of last night.
Sometime later the door opens and she cracks an eye open to see a. . .man. Both eyes widen in surprise and she shifts slightly to cover herself.
She might be married, but that doesn't stop her from noticing how handsome the man, a servant? though she can't think of why someone like the Monster would need one, is. His dark brown hair is a wind-blown mess, but it only adds to his slightly boy-ish look, bright blue eyes glance at her for a moment before looking away. The only clothing he's wearing is a pair of loose pants, showing off a very tempting narrow chest. Her eyes skip over the dead rabbit he's carrying, she's seen enough dead animals in her life that one more isn't that important, to stare at the jewelry on his arms, neck, and ears, shadow's breath gleaming softly in the light. Her eyes narrow. "But you're human?!"
The Monster. . .man? only snorts softly in response as he leaves the rabbit in the kitchen. A hint of wariness creeps in as she watches him walk towards her, only pausing at her things to search for a fire arrow. Once he reaches the tub he kneels down and re-sets the record, the cabin fills with soft, mournful music. The hand holding the arrowhead dips into the water and she feels the water move from pleasant to just barely tolerable, he takes his hand out and tosses the glass shards into the fire.
Here eyes follow as he stands, shucks his pants, and climbs into the tub with her, resting his head on her shoulder. 'And when you wake up tomorrow I shall be a wolf in true." His voice is just the same as yesterday, and something in her relaxes. She wants to ask more about that, because the Monster's always been half-man, half-beast, not one or the other; but she's got the rest of her life in front of her and she thinks those things can wait.
There is one question however that can't. "Do you have a name? I can't just keep calling you Monster." She bites her lip at the unintentional slip, but he doesn't seem to mind.
For a moment there's only his warm breath fanning against her neck. "Not a human name, no. I can tell you my name, but until you learn how to howl it won't be that easy for you to say."
He moves his head so they're face to face. He lets out a short undulating howl.
Lydia tries to mimic it, but it emerges from her mouth a garbled mess. He lays a brief kiss on her chin, a smile quirking at his lips. "A good first try."
Determined to do more than just 'good' she tries again, this time humming instead of trying to howl.
He laughs and leans back, taking her with him, reversing their positions. "Interesting technique there little one."
She hums his name again, just because she can. In return she gets a pleased rumble and an actual kiss.
When they break apart she give a sleepy little sigh and lets herself curl closer, nestling her face in the crook of his neck. She's half asleep again when he scoops her up and climbs out of the tub. He dries her off gently before putting her back in bed, tucking the furs around her. With half-lidded eyes she watches him slip his pants back on and go to the kitchen to start preparing the rabbit.
On the gramophone a new song starts and a woman begins singing about love and loneliness. Her husband starts singing along softly. She can feel a soft smile on her face as she falls into sleep.