The Seductress
Part III
Lucifer's Bride-To-Be
The Death Rocker was a knife.
It stood tall and lanky, with a sharp curve at the end -- something that could sink into skin and rip it apart, shred by shred. The jewels embarked upon the handle was a loose, sloped appearance of the jewels, four of them in all, representing one, single thing each. The color silver, glimmered in it's glory, a diamond that was faded, it looked like when closely examined. You could almost feel the emotion that came from it - hatred, clear, blunt, and vain. Empty as pure water, empty as blood. The color gold represented the only thing it could; faith. The color of violet that shone it's lukewarm lavender represented birth, the importance of it.. And there it was -- red. The color of all sins, the color of blood, but the color of something you never would think it would be --- innocence.
It could splatter blood, surrender the senses. And with a pull of an infant's fingers, with the folds of skin that belonged to the only purity a baby could provide with red blood that looked violet amongst the creases of veins, a baby who was newly born--with one single tug of purity, the knife would unfurl itself from the stone that availed it's poison across the quarters of rough hardness--poison that with one touch, sniff, feeling and look could kill you, unless you represented pure blood, a blood from the care of youth, for as the baby cries from plunging from the womb, it would be settled on it's backside on the stone that the knife was stuck once stuck upon -- the stone that filled with poison as well, stripped to it's single, particle of rock. The baby would take the knife out with one, swift pull, and the baby's eyes would meet the end of the knife, it's backside still gliding across the poison of the stone, the end of the knife that drooped with dried creases of blood that still uncurled itself like snakes uncoiling and meeting at the end, like the petals of a rose, spelling out one single, name: Lucifer.
~
The Seductress,
page 267
His letters were beautiful; but perhaps a hold of them could settle in the feeling that Seductress could accept the true fact -- that she was falling in love with someone she had not known for many years.
Seductress,
There are many boys that lust after you. I only have eyes for the way your hair moves, and the way your every bone curves. There is nothing to say that I can tell. Except I am offering much to see you. I have seen you with Lucifer. I know you know him as I do, but he might tell you things and they are all lies -- do not believe any of them. I only wish to touch you and graze your eyelids until you're the beauty I've always known.
-Healer
Healer,
I care not for the way you speak of Lucifer, he is a fine young man. I have seen you about town and all I have to say is that your skin is as pale as the wither of a white lily in black poison. Others might find it gruesome -- but mother taught me to love all colors -- she is quite hateful, however, and I grew as hateful as hers. Look at me, ranting about silly facts. If you do wish to see me, there might be the midsummer night, there might be one fateful meeting, but only if fate approves.
-Seductress
Seductress,
I have challenged fate and once, I even have unfurled it at the tips of my fingers. I saw you today at the flower garden, pricking your thumb at loose thorns. You left your ribbon behind, the red ribbon that shines everlasting in your hair, tucked away from every single eyes. I wonder if I could graze the red blood off your fingers, it's unnatural for blood as red as yours as red as your eyes, your hair and your ribbon to taint your flawless ivory. Fate can wait. You can make it wait. You're the most surrendered-for princess in this town, all men have eyes for you and all women are jealous. My friend Mandy is jealous even, she looks at you and I can almost see her clench her fists at the beauty you shake. She says it is unfair that you betrothed such beauty, such lively, when she is but an orphan that has worked all her life. You will have to excuse her, as I am forced to excuse Lucifer. However, there is one flaw I should mention of me, one tiny bit you will not like. I do not look at you as a queen to bow upon, I merely wish to rock your hand. I will not follow by your rules as if I am a servant if I become your lover, I only wish to cradle you within in my arms like a sweet, soulless baby I have just had. You may frown upon this, dread, fret, but if you do, then you are truly not one to challenge fate -- it shall come to us.
I have your ribbon if you wish to meet me, I will return it if I can press it against your hair.
For now, I will wrap it around my wrist and keep it there to remind me of the always color of your hair.
-Healer
Healer,
You are unlike any man I have ever known. None have ever sent me letters, or talked to me like this -- they merely wish to soak into my beauty. But I will challenge fate, because I will not fret. I will laugh, and you will hold my hand. There is one flaw I have not mentioned.
My mother does not know of my ways. She does not know that I have become the lover of this town, she does not know I am a common whore against the eyes of hungry, petty luring men. I am promised to someone very important and respected in this town.
Promised. I shall marry him the day I was born, and I shall raise two children with him.
But if you wish to challenge fate as do I--then we will overcome it. I have enclosed one ring for you-- I will wear the other.
If we overcome fate, Lucifer will never set a hand on my ribbon.
-Seductress
~
It was the same dream, over and over again. The whisper in her ears --"Your in danger."
"Why ever would you say that?" she would ask, and he would tip her chin forward and kiss her with the lips that she had been tempted by ever since her fourteenth birthday, the lips that had taken her innocence once away. His hand poured over her breasts, resting on her bosom and the peek of her cleavage gently, sliding back and forth, back and forth, back and --
--forth, swish, swish, down the dress. She gasped, whimpered, grasped the feeling within her palm, wanting to savor it forever everlasting. Nothing could fail the tremor, the leap of her heart as he pushed her sideways -- she was fourteen again, and she was a bad, wicked little girl--
--let someone punish me, oh I deserve punishment--
But something was wrong. These weren't Draco's lips that were upon her, touching her creamy, freckled-skin. His kiss was different, nothing like this -- Draco kissed with more of a furious compassion, a will to fight her, a will to make her an equal as him, a way to blend into him in breathless grazes of her skin and the kisses that could melt fire into it's dried, ember, engraved ashes.
This was different.
It was as if he was pushing his tongue down her throat to retrieve something, to suck something out alive, stained with blood but still jerking in her throat -- but what?
The bedroom door opened with a slam.
"Oh Draco," she cried. "Thank God, he's murdering--"
And then, it ended.
The dream ended, like any other nightmare would, from a scream that faded away.
Except, with a scream, Ginny choked on it.
Because something else was already occupying her mouth.
~