"Quoth the Raven, Nevermore"
by Kurama-sweethart
Characters, plot and story all belong to Libba Bray. Not mine, please don't sue! :]
Gemma gives into temptation and uses her magic to visit a certain indian boy...
The cool April evening hangs pregnant with the promise of thundershower, the sky bearing heavily down on me with thick, dangerous clouds. I silently pray that I won't find myself caught in the heavy rain that threatens to fall at any moment. I sail around the gargoyles, pressing the uneasiness from my throat and setting my sights past the forest and the lake, where the flickering glow of the gypsy camp illuminates like a beacon.
I'm ashamed at how easily I surrendered to temptation this night; ashamed at how easy it was to feign sleep until the dark cover of night fell across Spence. My window had gleamed with twilight, beckoning me. Come, it said sweetly, all you need to do is push.
And I did push. I threw the window open, taking a moment to allow the cool spring air to invite me ever closer to damnation. My eyes slid closed and I imagined myself as a sleek, ebon raven, soaring across the horizon, with nothing by the sky as a boundary. Before I knew it, my arms and shoulders had become embellished with dark plumage that continued to creep up my neck and down my spine with a familiar tingle.
Freedom was mine to take once more.
As I approach the gypsy camp, the soft hum of their voices reach my ears. My eyes are sharp, a gift to the raven, and I immediately find a familiar face.
Kartik crouches in front of his tent, tending to a smoldering fire. He wears his gypsy garb, the thick fabric hanging open from his neck to soothe his hot skin. I instinctively find a perch on an overhanging branch near his tent and spy down at him with exhilaration.
"Hello, friend." He says to me in a soft, tender voice. "Back again, I see."
A rasp escapes my throat and I flutter down to a lower branch.
"I don't have much to offer you tonight," He continues, disappearing into his tent. I hold the memory of his exposed skin in my mind, hoping to imprint it there. I find he grows more handsome as each night passes.
Kartik emerges, holding remnants of a cracker in his palm. "Here, friend." He calls to me, and I go to him with little hesitation, seating myself on the ground at his feet and swallowing the hard bread whole.
He reaches out to me, and I flinch back, squawking at him. He chuckles and pulls his hands back, showing me he means no harm. He reaches for me again, and I allow him to stroke my feathers, run his fingers down my neck and the smooth expanse of my wings. I must admit, the feeling is glorious and I find myself wishing I could be a bird forever.
"You must be as lonely as I, friend," He says to me. "This is the eighth night you've visited me."
I try to ignore the well-intentioned comment, but all it does is remind me of how pathetic I am to have come to him so often and in such a wicked form. I caw sadly and glance back at Spence, trying to decide if I want to soar away from him, away from the desire he tempts me with and back into safe dissatisfaction.
Kartik takes note of my plan of escape. "You wish to fly away to the school, friend?" He asks me, straightening. His beautiful dark eyes gazing at me with… is that fondness? Or pity? "I don't blame you," He continues. "I wish to fly away there, too, sometimes."
I cock my small bird head at him curiously, and he takes this as a sign to elaborate.
"You see, my friend, I… I wish you could understand how it feels to love someone."
Love? My heart quickens and I feel my blood rushing through my veins like thundering horses. Suddenly, I wish I did not have to hide behind an illusion to get him to confide in me.
"But with love comes obligation," Kartik says with a sad smile, and he reaches out to stroke me once more. "My lady is strong and she will do what is right on her own accord. She doesn't need me getting in the way."
I want to cry. I nuzzle his calloused palm with my head, struggling with the magic that holds up my illusion. I lose my composure, my illusion trickling from my fingertips like cupped water. Frantic, I take flight into the air, the magic dissipating. I find myself growing heavy and with a screech I plummet to the wet earth just as the rain starts to fall.
"Gemma! You-?" Kartik growls, stalking over to where I lie crumpled in the mud. He's furious, and I don't look up at him, hoping the rain will mask my tears.
"I'm sorry," I manage out, standing. He sighs and takes me into his arms, and I feel his warm breath on my neck. I inhale his smell of spice and curry, hold it in my lungs until I have to gasp. We stand together for a long time, my hands balled into fists against his chest and his face so near mine.
"Please understand," He murmurs, resting his forehead against mine. "Please…"
I back away from him, watch the way his eyes harden as he takes in the sight of me; dirty, matted hair and blotchy, tear-soaked cheeks. "Is it true?" I croak shamelessly, my voice hoarse. Do you really love me? My mind finishes.
Kartik looks away. Silence reigns, save for the symphony of raindrops all around us. I make move to leave, my heart aching.
"Yes," He says, so quietly I can barely hear him. Kartik leans over, and I take in his face, dark skin, long lashes and full, tempting lips. He kisses me, softly, so unlike how he always has in my dreams. "It's true."
End.
I've grown rather fond of these two, so I may write more on them later :]