"This is the way I pray/
Living just isn't hard enough/
Burn me alive inside/
Living my life's not hard enough/
Take everything away"
Disturbed, "Prayer"
I buried my face into the sweat-beaded nape of Sheogorath. He sighed deeply, and I cooed in his ear. His white dress shirt, which was slithering with wrinkles, was hugging his skin. It was drenched in his sweet perspiration. His hair was slightly damp, and I realized my own was too. I kissed his neck right above the collar of his shirt, and lazily pillowed my head there. I wondered if he hated me for what I had just done to him. Sheogorath was oddly silent and rigid, so I naturally assumed he was seething like lightning in his gut.
"Are you okay?" I asked him politely. My voice was broken and almost weak. For the first time here, I felt truly tired myself. He shifted slightly on his four spidery, long limbs. He answered me in a slow, exaggerated speech, "Everything is just perfect." His voice was breathy and difficult to hear. I slid my head to his shoulder to look at his face. It was still reddish and relatively clean of emotions. He did look tired. I squeezed his body gently.
I did not wish to be free from the comfort of his body, but nothing would be accomplished otherwise. I slid off his back carefully, and proceeded to redress myself again into my robe and boots. I stood up, and gazed at him. He was still paralyzed in the same position he was before I got off of him. Sweat still glistened on his pallid form. Finally, he stirred, though reluctantly. In a frenzy, he clothed his body and laced on his boots. When he finally stood, the green look his eyes gave me was unbearable. "More," I demanded piteously, "I want to know more. I want to know more about your memories, your experiences, and damn it to Sithis, your nightmares."
Even though his memories were nothing but a mere collection of blasphemies and farces, I wanted to look into it more. In his head I saw a schism of puzzle pieces that were warring to be independent yet together at the same time, and I knew these pieces fit. I was watching them backwards, slowly falling, tumbling away from the completed image. I was also assembling the puzzle, bit by bit, as he enlightened me.
He grinned at me with his rosy lips peeled back and exposing his white teeth to the air. "Oh, you would, Walter, would you not? Come hither and let me show thee," he replied to me with deep sensuality in his soft voice. I stepped towards him, and looked up into his abyssal eyes. They locked me there. My gaze was fixated in his, and for a brief moment I began to believe his eyes, brighter than any emerald, intensified. He suddenly clutched my body, and then my clammy hands in his own. Then pain surged through my body, and I was thrown into oblivion.
The memory I had been shoved violently into was hardly pleasant. Sheogorath, gingery long hair and all, was pacing back in forth in front of the bedroom door. His eyes were profusely bloodshot, and his hair was unkempt. He had the appearance of someone who hadn't slept in days, but it was obvious this was the same day the chaos happened. His clothes were the same as far as I could tell, and it was still very dark in his dwelling. He was faintly lit by candlelight.
The door opened, and filled the hallway with light. Sheogorath shielded his eyes with his right arm, and slowly let his eyes adjust. His pupils contracted violently from the iris and became a beady little dot. One of the more petite guards emerged from the light. He was about as thin as Sheogorath proportion wise. The guard exhaled sharply. He hesitated for a moment. "Well," the lanky man in armor said in a relatively young-sounding voice, "she's torn up pretty bad. The poor gal might not be able to have children after this. After examining her magical presence, as well as Terence's, I have come to the conclusion you were very right about your accusation. Her own magicka reserves are wracked. His magical presence is all over her. We'll inform her parents about this misfortune, but she can't be taken home. She must stay in bed or she runs the risk of going into shock."
Sheogorath gazed at the guard wearily. "Don't worry. I'll take care of her," he replied in a tiny voice that was quite broken. He cleared his throat, and bowed to the guard as he trotted off to tell Zarrexaij's parents. Sheogorath promptly entered the room, and closed the door behind him. Zarrexaij was laying on the left side of his bed with her eyes rolled back into her head. Her breath was wheezy, and her skin had a remarkable pallor about it. There was a linen placed between her and the bed. It was stained with blood, though not my much. I figured the guard stopped the bleeding with magic.
Sheogorath stepped up to the left side of the bed, lit by gentle candlelight from the candlesticks on each side, and kneeled. He reached over for Zarrexaij's hands and took them in his own. "Are you awake?" he asked her in a whisper. Her head lolled towards his direction. She neither said nothing, nor opened her eyes, but nodded her head. She emitted a very soft groan of pain. Sheogorath frowned, and climbed onto the bed with her. He curled up as tightly as he could, and carefully brought himself closer to her. After a period of time of no movement, they both fell asleep, and the image floated away.
I assume it was morning now. Light beamed into the room and illuminated the contents of the room. The candles had long since been out, and the wax had begun, overnight, to drip off the candleholders. Sheogorath was still curled next to Zarrexaij. His eyes slowly fluttered open, and he squinted as his eyes focused on the bright morning light. He sat up in bed, yawned, stretched, and then abruptly slipped off the bed. I watched him undress himself, redress himself in a clean robe, and return to Zarrexaij's side.
I watched him just sit there, gazing at her with admiring eyes. It was quite some while before she ever roused. Hours must have past until she finally opened her eyes. She looked at him with a bit of confusion, and slowly sat up. "Don't sit up," he warned her gently. He addressed her with a warm smile. She stared at him with her head tilted slightly. Zarrexaij questioned Sheogorath, "Why not?"
His forehead and eyebrows creased. He stuttered a little on his words, "You don't remember?" She shook her head. "Well," Sheogorath started, sighing shallowly, "you were…violated by Terence last night. I was told that I'm supposed to take care of you. You aren't supposed to get out of bed quite yet; you were torn pretty badly. I'm afraid you might slip off into shock, and perhaps even death." Zarrexaij still looked fairly bemused, but she nodded to denote her understanding. She slid back to her original position and laid her head on the fluffy pillow.
There was a rapid session of knocks on the front door. Sheogorath groaned and stood up. "What is it now?" he sighed under his breath unenthusiastically. My mind's eye followed him closely, watching him weave around corners, stalking like an irritable predator until he stepped into the den and opened the door. Staring up at him was this thing hidden in a raggedy brown robe. The hood on the robe was up, and covered most of the face of the person. All I could really see was just the nose and the mouth. The nose was large, not unlike Sheogorath's aristocratic own, and a wide mouth with thin, red lips. The skin was a light gold, much like Zarrexaij's.
"I was sent here to check up on young lady Zarrexaij. May I come in?" the elf asked, whose voice was very much a male's. Sheogorath nodded silently and moved to let what I assumed was a healer in. What I thought was an elf stepped in. He was carrying a burlap sack full of something. The elf then asked him impatiently, "Where is she?" Sheogorath sighed and led him to the bedroom.
Sheogorath opened the door for the healer and allowed him inside. The healer padded to Zarrexaij's side and sat on his knees. She turned her heads towards him slowly. "Kaludralthus," she uttered weakly, and brought a hand to the side of his face. Sheogorath's eyes narrowed slightly and pricked with acrid jealousy. Kaludralthus smiled feebly. "I was told to examine you, and heal any injuries I find," he informed her quietly.
Sheogorath's countenance grew more unpleasant as he watched the healer carefully peeled the blanket off of his patient. The elf took off his hood and revealed his thick, long blond hair that was tied back. Then, I observed him prudently lifting up her robe. Sheogorath exhaled sharply, and asked, "What's the meaning of that?" The healer's lips peeled back in a smile as he answered, "It's completely necessary. I need to see her injuries. You want her better, do you not?"
Sheogorath sighed again, and replied, "I do. I do." Zarrexaij made no objections as the healer searched her sex for injuries. Her master, Sheogorath, continued tensing up, scowling as he watched him. The healer found several bruises on her thighs, her weighty buttocks, and many dangerously close to her delicate feminine flower. Occasionally the healer would frown, and inhale sharply, as if shocked by her multiple injuries. The outer petals of her sex were slightly torn, and in both places they met, they were scabbed. The healer stopped to grimace as he pressed gently on her inner sexual lips and hence made her blood seep from badly-clotted wounds. The opening was very much torn and ragged. Whatever filmy covering it once had, had been punctured violently. The final examination he had was sliding two fingers inside, and gently using the other hand to put pressure on her womb.
"Does that feel tender?" he asked her softly. Zarrexaij blinked her eyes. She replied, "A little." The healer exhaled, and withdrew his fingers. They were covered with fresh blood. "Do you have a water pump outside?" the healer asked Sheogorath in a queasy voice. The master mage nodded and specified, "The water pump is behind the house on the dirt clearing." The healer nodded and quickly headed outside the room. The apprentice and master began conversing.
"You know him?" Sheogorath interrogated her. Zarrexaij wasn't slow at all to reply. "Yes," she responded calmly, "he's a family friend." Her master-turned-lover stepped into the room. "How are you feeling?" he queried, walking up to where the healer once was. She gazed up at his standing form. "I'm hungry," she replied brokenly. By the sounds of it, she was thirsty, too. Sheogorath grinned at her tenderly. It was a little nervous and awkwardly wide. "I'll get you something after the healer comes back," he cooed to her.
It wasn't long before the healer returned, either. He returned shortly after Sheogorath's promise of food and drink to the parched Zarrexaij. The healer's hands were still dripping. He entered the room with a quick stride, and stopped by Sheogorath. "Are you her lover or something?" the healer asked curiously. The response from Sheogorath was flustered. Then he blushed. He replied, "No. I'm her instructor." The healer nodded.
The healer now addressed Zarrexaij. "You have sustained several injuries. At this point I think the internal injuries are so great you may not be able to properly have children. If you conceive, I thoroughly expect you to either have a miscarriage or give birth to a stillborn. I'll report back to your family," he told her matter-of-factly. He seemed surprisingly calm about it all. He then bowed to Zarrexaij and Sheogorath, and left.
"Will you get me something now?" Zarrexaij asked her master. Sheogorath smiled toothily. "Of course you may," he replied, and exited the room to fetch her some food and beverage. And the memory faded out.