Dark Musing Part II
Who: The Darkest of all Angels
Where: A Dark Place
Why: Cause she damn well feels like it and you wouldn't want to be the one to tell her she couldn't be there anyway. (*smirks*)
It was probably the softest of breath that caused her to be alert to his presence. He'd already found ways to be adept at being just beyond her senses sometimes, but he was never perfect. Something usually slipped. Especially when he was studying her in her splendor.
She was sitting relaxed in a chair, some fifteen feet from the body of the dead man. Her back relaxed and head back, face upward, though her hands were laced together at finger tips, elbows on the edges of her chair. She didn't move, didn't even twitch, for he would have seen it, until the moment she felt him. He saw one side of her lips tug, in a very faint but familiar movement, and then her voice filled the room that was oblivious in silence to the goings on that had taken place.
"Well, hello, kitten."
Her eyes opened, like a bolt of lightening in the darkness that was her face in shadow, till they looked at him. She stood, movements graceful as a dancer, and deadlier than an assassin in their silence. She stopped walking and stooped to pet him a foot away from the body, where the stocky, silky black cat perched, with his golden eyes a fixed on her. They closed only a flickering second when she rubbed the side of his cheek and his neck, before saying softly with a chuckle.
"I thought you'd be by sometime soon. You usually don't take so long for your keeping tabs on me."
A moment later she was standing, and then a second later, she looked back with a smile of smug satisfaction, mixed with uncaring, and not a bit of astonishment. Where the cat had stood, on the other side of the body, leaning against the mantle over the fire place was a man. Muscular, but not large in build. He was lean, and still sculpted the way the cat was. Larger than normal, but not over whelming.
The eyes were a stunning golden color still, complementing the dark skin around it. Deep colored from sun kisses or something else. He was dressed head to toe in black. A form fitting shirt in what looked like spandex, that left not a muscles anywhere to be imagined, for it's closeness, and a set of what appeared to be black jeans, and boots.
"Come 'ere, love, and give us a kiss." He said with a deep, rich voice that reminded her of many things, like stormy nights, and rolls of thunder bellowing out warning. Though this time it sounded without merriment, just simple statement.
He watched her eyes twinkle weighing what he'd said, and half bet she'd through a remark back, though not surprised when she complied either. Her skin, he noted with relish, still felt softer than down feathers as a hand slid around her back to hold her close a second, and her hair, was still long and glossy, though the braids did faintly deter him from mussing it.
And the kiss. It was still pleasure and passion, a mixture of heaven and hell. Enough to down a man, right before she let go, and seemed to almost slip through his arms, denying heaven to anyone who touched those lips. He delighted in knowing for a second he'd felt her fight to stay on top of that moment almost slip, too.
Wasn't it always like that with them?
"Tell me then, my Queen," he said the title with the lightest mocking. "Why do you gallivant so late at night and why, pray tell, do you have that rat at your bidding? The SpellSong I knew wouldn't have needed anyone," he said that with a lit, not strong enough to mean again, but enough for her to catch an intent that was true, while not meaning to imply. She turned her head from his fingers touching her cheek during his words.
Her voice rang out in the room like tiny bells being struck one, by one, and as it echoed, all together like ripples cascading. It was either music, or cacophony, or because of her perhaps both. She leaned her cheek back against his hand, like a child playing a game only on her own terms. "I am fetching myself a new play toy, and trafficking that thing, because it's part of the game."
"I see," he said, taking a small delight in the way she watched his face. He was sure she had it memorized already, knowing the way she worked. He dislodged from her completely though he did reach out at touch with the tip of his point finger the front of her locket, while saying quiet blankly. "And the security equipment set up??? To watch who? Your parents? Or Remy?"
She had moved to snatch her locket the second he touched it, but her eyes had darkened and lightened fast at his mention of the surveillance she'd set up over the Mansion, without even the Mansion's knowledge of it. Truly, though it wasn't this mention that annoyed her, but the way his voice clipped on the later name. That annoyed her, and she fired a warning shot back, like it was a tactile game of who could through a larger bomb.
"Didn't I hear your precious Fae-child got with and lost her own?" Her eyes were light and airy, like a spring sky. Her voiced hinted she might now more, but wasn't saying that out loud. A direct offense to the fact she did place no severity on the words she'd said, but he reacted before she'd gotten through her words. His hand tensed around her arm, and he said through gritted teeth.
"If I hear you-"
A sharp pain ran through his hand, like a slap, or a prick of a dagger, and he jerked it away. He knew what is was before he jerked his hand away even. It was a warning. A very serious one, that the game had just ended. "I bruise easily, if you didn't know. So I'd bade you not to do that again. I usually return such gift in turn ten fold."
He was clenching an unclenching his hand as the pain fell to a low throb, though still angry. His eyes seemed focused like a cat in deliberation, before he said it again. "If you had anything to do with-"
"Tosh," She waved a hand and turned away. Too carelessly in her way. She wasn't going to look at him when he shot this insult, either to make him realize unconsciously she didn't mean it, or to show him he was now beneath her. "You're silly, trivial love affair is beneath me. I've better games a foot now, than to worry about your life back where she is. You matter nothing to me, Rejar. Not after what happened. You are no longer worth my time. I've grown bored of this intrigue."
She was playing now, and he could tell, skirting the fire they both knew was still there. That kiss had said enough, and he knew she'd heard it, too. This was their game. But he had pushed her hand then. He'd forced her to do what she did. He'd broken a trust she'd placed in him, and then she betrayed him without a second thought.
That was the way it went. And so as he pushed her, she pushed him, right into the arms of another.
"Don't lie to me, Casse." He saw her tense the second her name was said allowed. And with good reason of course. She found her name either the largest keep of trust and faith in a person, or the largest draw back to remembering her life. Very few people who were not family knew she even had a real name. "I won't have it of you. Lie to your toys, or your dolls, or whatever frills you've placed around yourself this time and again-"
He'd reached out and grabbed her hand, not caring that she'd started a fire in the fireplace, that was burning blue. And against the wave of pain that renewed, course though his hand and up his arm now, he made her look up. "But don't lie to me. I know you too well."
She studied his face coldly and calculatedly, and before he realized it, she was kissing him again. The pain had vanished as fast it had stung the first time. Not surprising since she probably had fixed it without a second thought, but there was fierceness there, as he felt his back press against the mantle due to the onslaught that was her. He wouldn't have been surprised of any event, the change of what could happen right here on this floor right now, or the fact she could crumple him like a ball of paper should she do it through his insides now with this touch.
But she did neither, save pull away, with an expression that was more dangerous. More dangerous because he knew the way she reacted. Her expression showed an unlikely mix of confusion, and disorientation, in her darkening eyes, even as she reached up to wipe at her face. She turned away, and moves out of reach.
"You should leave. Now. He's gotten what I need. We'll be leaving momentarily."
Was he disappointed? Perhaps, but only in the way one is of a child they've loved too long and too deeply, that could never be retracted, nor wanted in remove. His eyes skirted the body on the floor. "Not you're normal panache, Spell. You had no fun with him."
There was not answer, not even a move from where she stood now, staring out a large empty window with it's curtains still pulled. He shook his head, in wonderment, atleast glad Jenaveve had been sent home. She'd be no help.
"I'll tell him," Rejar said with a light hinge, the waft of annoyance, disappointment and light release in his voice. "That you've evaded my grasp but said hi, and that you miss him."
She whirled around, in time to see the black tail leave the room out the door at a run. He was gone and she knew that, and whether he'd come back was up to him. But that comment, cut to the quick of everything. Him. That didn't mean Remy, or her father, or anyone trivial beyond that. It meant the one person who would've tracked down anyone, even Rejar, to see her well.
It meant Patric.
And that alone meant so many others things.
"Mistress," the shrill voice landed her eyes dully on the squat man who appeared in the doorway again to that room, holding the black box. "Here it is. Exactly where you said it would be."
"Of course it was, you fool," she said sharply, striding over and wrenching the box from him. Her surrounding glow a little less silvery blue and a bit more darkened again. She didn't even stop to open, simply kept walking to till they were both leaving the house, where the door still swung wide open, letting light on it's walk.
*no tags*
Who: The Darkest of all Angels
Where: A Dark Place
Why: Cause she damn well feels like it and you wouldn't want to be the one to tell her she couldn't be there anyway. (*smirks*)
It was probably the softest of breath that caused her to be alert to his presence. He'd already found ways to be adept at being just beyond her senses sometimes, but he was never perfect. Something usually slipped. Especially when he was studying her in her splendor.
She was sitting relaxed in a chair, some fifteen feet from the body of the dead man. Her back relaxed and head back, face upward, though her hands were laced together at finger tips, elbows on the edges of her chair. She didn't move, didn't even twitch, for he would have seen it, until the moment she felt him. He saw one side of her lips tug, in a very faint but familiar movement, and then her voice filled the room that was oblivious in silence to the goings on that had taken place.
"Well, hello, kitten."
Her eyes opened, like a bolt of lightening in the darkness that was her face in shadow, till they looked at him. She stood, movements graceful as a dancer, and deadlier than an assassin in their silence. She stopped walking and stooped to pet him a foot away from the body, where the stocky, silky black cat perched, with his golden eyes a fixed on her. They closed only a flickering second when she rubbed the side of his cheek and his neck, before saying softly with a chuckle.
"I thought you'd be by sometime soon. You usually don't take so long for your keeping tabs on me."
A moment later she was standing, and then a second later, she looked back with a smile of smug satisfaction, mixed with uncaring, and not a bit of astonishment. Where the cat had stood, on the other side of the body, leaning against the mantle over the fire place was a man. Muscular, but not large in build. He was lean, and still sculpted the way the cat was. Larger than normal, but not over whelming.
The eyes were a stunning golden color still, complementing the dark skin around it. Deep colored from sun kisses or something else. He was dressed head to toe in black. A form fitting shirt in what looked like spandex, that left not a muscles anywhere to be imagined, for it's closeness, and a set of what appeared to be black jeans, and boots.
"Come 'ere, love, and give us a kiss." He said with a deep, rich voice that reminded her of many things, like stormy nights, and rolls of thunder bellowing out warning. Though this time it sounded without merriment, just simple statement.
He watched her eyes twinkle weighing what he'd said, and half bet she'd through a remark back, though not surprised when she complied either. Her skin, he noted with relish, still felt softer than down feathers as a hand slid around her back to hold her close a second, and her hair, was still long and glossy, though the braids did faintly deter him from mussing it.
And the kiss. It was still pleasure and passion, a mixture of heaven and hell. Enough to down a man, right before she let go, and seemed to almost slip through his arms, denying heaven to anyone who touched those lips. He delighted in knowing for a second he'd felt her fight to stay on top of that moment almost slip, too.
Wasn't it always like that with them?
"Tell me then, my Queen," he said the title with the lightest mocking. "Why do you gallivant so late at night and why, pray tell, do you have that rat at your bidding? The SpellSong I knew wouldn't have needed anyone," he said that with a lit, not strong enough to mean again, but enough for her to catch an intent that was true, while not meaning to imply. She turned her head from his fingers touching her cheek during his words.
Her voice rang out in the room like tiny bells being struck one, by one, and as it echoed, all together like ripples cascading. It was either music, or cacophony, or because of her perhaps both. She leaned her cheek back against his hand, like a child playing a game only on her own terms. "I am fetching myself a new play toy, and trafficking that thing, because it's part of the game."
"I see," he said, taking a small delight in the way she watched his face. He was sure she had it memorized already, knowing the way she worked. He dislodged from her completely though he did reach out at touch with the tip of his point finger the front of her locket, while saying quiet blankly. "And the security equipment set up??? To watch who? Your parents? Or Remy?"
She had moved to snatch her locket the second he touched it, but her eyes had darkened and lightened fast at his mention of the surveillance she'd set up over the Mansion, without even the Mansion's knowledge of it. Truly, though it wasn't this mention that annoyed her, but the way his voice clipped on the later name. That annoyed her, and she fired a warning shot back, like it was a tactile game of who could through a larger bomb.
"Didn't I hear your precious Fae-child got with and lost her own?" Her eyes were light and airy, like a spring sky. Her voiced hinted she might now more, but wasn't saying that out loud. A direct offense to the fact she did place no severity on the words she'd said, but he reacted before she'd gotten through her words. His hand tensed around her arm, and he said through gritted teeth.
"If I hear you-"
A sharp pain ran through his hand, like a slap, or a prick of a dagger, and he jerked it away. He knew what is was before he jerked his hand away even. It was a warning. A very serious one, that the game had just ended. "I bruise easily, if you didn't know. So I'd bade you not to do that again. I usually return such gift in turn ten fold."
He was clenching an unclenching his hand as the pain fell to a low throb, though still angry. His eyes seemed focused like a cat in deliberation, before he said it again. "If you had anything to do with-"
"Tosh," She waved a hand and turned away. Too carelessly in her way. She wasn't going to look at him when he shot this insult, either to make him realize unconsciously she didn't mean it, or to show him he was now beneath her. "You're silly, trivial love affair is beneath me. I've better games a foot now, than to worry about your life back where she is. You matter nothing to me, Rejar. Not after what happened. You are no longer worth my time. I've grown bored of this intrigue."
She was playing now, and he could tell, skirting the fire they both knew was still there. That kiss had said enough, and he knew she'd heard it, too. This was their game. But he had pushed her hand then. He'd forced her to do what she did. He'd broken a trust she'd placed in him, and then she betrayed him without a second thought.
That was the way it went. And so as he pushed her, she pushed him, right into the arms of another.
"Don't lie to me, Casse." He saw her tense the second her name was said allowed. And with good reason of course. She found her name either the largest keep of trust and faith in a person, or the largest draw back to remembering her life. Very few people who were not family knew she even had a real name. "I won't have it of you. Lie to your toys, or your dolls, or whatever frills you've placed around yourself this time and again-"
He'd reached out and grabbed her hand, not caring that she'd started a fire in the fireplace, that was burning blue. And against the wave of pain that renewed, course though his hand and up his arm now, he made her look up. "But don't lie to me. I know you too well."
She studied his face coldly and calculatedly, and before he realized it, she was kissing him again. The pain had vanished as fast it had stung the first time. Not surprising since she probably had fixed it without a second thought, but there was fierceness there, as he felt his back press against the mantle due to the onslaught that was her. He wouldn't have been surprised of any event, the change of what could happen right here on this floor right now, or the fact she could crumple him like a ball of paper should she do it through his insides now with this touch.
But she did neither, save pull away, with an expression that was more dangerous. More dangerous because he knew the way she reacted. Her expression showed an unlikely mix of confusion, and disorientation, in her darkening eyes, even as she reached up to wipe at her face. She turned away, and moves out of reach.
"You should leave. Now. He's gotten what I need. We'll be leaving momentarily."
Was he disappointed? Perhaps, but only in the way one is of a child they've loved too long and too deeply, that could never be retracted, nor wanted in remove. His eyes skirted the body on the floor. "Not you're normal panache, Spell. You had no fun with him."
There was not answer, not even a move from where she stood now, staring out a large empty window with it's curtains still pulled. He shook his head, in wonderment, atleast glad Jenaveve had been sent home. She'd be no help.
"I'll tell him," Rejar said with a light hinge, the waft of annoyance, disappointment and light release in his voice. "That you've evaded my grasp but said hi, and that you miss him."
She whirled around, in time to see the black tail leave the room out the door at a run. He was gone and she knew that, and whether he'd come back was up to him. But that comment, cut to the quick of everything. Him. That didn't mean Remy, or her father, or anyone trivial beyond that. It meant the one person who would've tracked down anyone, even Rejar, to see her well.
It meant Patric.
And that alone meant so many others things.
"Mistress," the shrill voice landed her eyes dully on the squat man who appeared in the doorway again to that room, holding the black box. "Here it is. Exactly where you said it would be."
"Of course it was, you fool," she said sharply, striding over and wrenching the box from him. Her surrounding glow a little less silvery blue and a bit more darkened again. She didn't even stop to open, simply kept walking to till they were both leaving the house, where the door still swung wide open, letting light on it's walk.
*no tags*
