The sun of my light pulsed, dimming and drawing in on itself.
Like a whorl, my two existences collided with one another and melted together. Drawing inward, always inward.
A kiss of passion ended when he interrupted me and mine. What had been a promise of sexual brimstone and fire was gone now, like ashes choking out life, when he said those fated words.
"She needs you."
Like a switch, forlorn was dormant and an echo of a memory, as it should be.
The tavern's main room was not as I had just left it. The quietude had shattered and now concern and voices mingled with the smells of blood. Like a leopard on a scent, was I, as I stalked down she who was grievously injured, sitting upright awaiting judgment from me, whom she had come for.
The words of my lover were muted and distant, and as much as I had not wanted to take that flight, it was mandatory. For the sake of prosperity, I needed this redhead alive. Like her carmine hair, she was part of the blood that flood from my veins into the city about me.
Damn it all, you pasty fool, do you know what you have done?
There was ticking in the backdrop, soft and true. It called my secret name.
It teased me.
There was no longer any way to conceal my involvement with this teenage girl. I had relied so heavily on the image that I partook of her sweet sex, fucking her into adherence.
But now that was gone; I was forced to reveal my hand and play off of the River. I could not stave off the wolves and whelps and envious children of the Ignorant any longer. I had to openly require the right to touch her, this skittish girl.
Now they knew I was not her lover. While they may not have put it together then, the pieces of the puzzle fell inevitably, irrefutably in place, for one would remember and pass that knowledge onto someone who could discern fact from mask.
Her bodily injuries baffled me. It looked as if something had played her like a fiddle until she cracked and broke. I could smell fresh blood exuding from her. I could taste the salt of her sweat as it, vermilion and burning, mixed with her blood.
She should not be here; she should be in the hospital.
Gripping me like a lifeline, the first touch she had ever laid upon me was faint and distant, she whispered to me, those gray eyes hot and vague, lost to everything common and decent, strive within to plead and beg me for life. I was not the Berserker, and I did not take life needlessly.
I do not abandon those to Annwn when my blood was theirs.
Maybe I was angry with her or with myself, but I knew that I was enraged at the fools and bigots that littered this tavern, staring and gawking like fucking fish upon the sight of their own reflection.
"Please," her eyes pleaded, crying out for me in pain and exhaustion. "I crawled all this way because I need you. Help me help you! HELP ME HELP YOU!"
Down on my knees for her, in front of my own lover, I cooed with my own eyes that were not as dead as my face. "I promised my blood for yours, lover-mine of the Web. I will adhere to my words and make love to your wounds until they curl and close with sighs of contentment."
Discarding the pale rider was simple enough; a quick flick of my barbed tongue and he mewled like a kitten starved. I am a leopard on the prowl; I am the viper that spun the webs that connected deceit to deceit.
The first mistake I made that night was enlisting the one person I should not have. My lover, her skin as dark as mine, hair as metallic and wild as mine; yet it were her eyes that I spoke to then, summoning the unpredictability within those emerald orbs, and I had honed it to my own calm and measuring windows.
Through the streets I had carried that young woman who had cuts and tears and breaks externally to match those that she hid from the world. I heard her light sigh and groan. I had to move quickly. Before she flickered and faded.
My second mistake was taking my lover to the home of this girl, which ironically poisoned her mind in the exact opposite way that it had infiltrated the others. She was to not know these things, not like this, and it came as a pain to me as my hallowed heart was quaking.
She delivered the young, broken woman's things to her doorstep and left me there with a look that said to me so many things I shall never forget them, for they slipped through my defenses like a hot knife.
"Goodbye, my love. Goodbye, so that when you see me again and hold me in your arms and eyes, it shall be without my heart and mind, for you have bled me so this day, taking this last innocence from me. And I shall never forgive you."
She bade me farewell and left with the flight of foot so common to her gypsy blood, my rose still in her hair. But I could not cry for her, not then, and I did not pursue her for my task was to heal and nurture another woman...at the cost of my own deep love.
A snick and the door closed. A sound that emanated the closure of one chapter of my life.
The sun of my light swelled in upon itself and the dark side of light became my own.
Like a whorl, my two existences collided with one another and melted together. Drawing inward, always inward.
A kiss of passion ended when he interrupted me and mine. What had been a promise of sexual brimstone and fire was gone now, like ashes choking out life, when he said those fated words.
"She needs you."
Like a switch, forlorn was dormant and an echo of a memory, as it should be.
The tavern's main room was not as I had just left it. The quietude had shattered and now concern and voices mingled with the smells of blood. Like a leopard on a scent, was I, as I stalked down she who was grievously injured, sitting upright awaiting judgment from me, whom she had come for.
The words of my lover were muted and distant, and as much as I had not wanted to take that flight, it was mandatory. For the sake of prosperity, I needed this redhead alive. Like her carmine hair, she was part of the blood that flood from my veins into the city about me.
Damn it all, you pasty fool, do you know what you have done?
There was ticking in the backdrop, soft and true. It called my secret name.
It teased me.
There was no longer any way to conceal my involvement with this teenage girl. I had relied so heavily on the image that I partook of her sweet sex, fucking her into adherence.
But now that was gone; I was forced to reveal my hand and play off of the River. I could not stave off the wolves and whelps and envious children of the Ignorant any longer. I had to openly require the right to touch her, this skittish girl.
Now they knew I was not her lover. While they may not have put it together then, the pieces of the puzzle fell inevitably, irrefutably in place, for one would remember and pass that knowledge onto someone who could discern fact from mask.
Her bodily injuries baffled me. It looked as if something had played her like a fiddle until she cracked and broke. I could smell fresh blood exuding from her. I could taste the salt of her sweat as it, vermilion and burning, mixed with her blood.
She should not be here; she should be in the hospital.
Gripping me like a lifeline, the first touch she had ever laid upon me was faint and distant, she whispered to me, those gray eyes hot and vague, lost to everything common and decent, strive within to plead and beg me for life. I was not the Berserker, and I did not take life needlessly.
I do not abandon those to Annwn when my blood was theirs.
Maybe I was angry with her or with myself, but I knew that I was enraged at the fools and bigots that littered this tavern, staring and gawking like fucking fish upon the sight of their own reflection.
"Please," her eyes pleaded, crying out for me in pain and exhaustion. "I crawled all this way because I need you. Help me help you! HELP ME HELP YOU!"
Down on my knees for her, in front of my own lover, I cooed with my own eyes that were not as dead as my face. "I promised my blood for yours, lover-mine of the Web. I will adhere to my words and make love to your wounds until they curl and close with sighs of contentment."
Discarding the pale rider was simple enough; a quick flick of my barbed tongue and he mewled like a kitten starved. I am a leopard on the prowl; I am the viper that spun the webs that connected deceit to deceit.
The first mistake I made that night was enlisting the one person I should not have. My lover, her skin as dark as mine, hair as metallic and wild as mine; yet it were her eyes that I spoke to then, summoning the unpredictability within those emerald orbs, and I had honed it to my own calm and measuring windows.
Through the streets I had carried that young woman who had cuts and tears and breaks externally to match those that she hid from the world. I heard her light sigh and groan. I had to move quickly. Before she flickered and faded.
My second mistake was taking my lover to the home of this girl, which ironically poisoned her mind in the exact opposite way that it had infiltrated the others. She was to not know these things, not like this, and it came as a pain to me as my hallowed heart was quaking.
She delivered the young, broken woman's things to her doorstep and left me there with a look that said to me so many things I shall never forget them, for they slipped through my defenses like a hot knife.
"Goodbye, my love. Goodbye, so that when you see me again and hold me in your arms and eyes, it shall be without my heart and mind, for you have bled me so this day, taking this last innocence from me. And I shall never forgive you."
She bade me farewell and left with the flight of foot so common to her gypsy blood, my rose still in her hair. But I could not cry for her, not then, and I did not pursue her for my task was to heal and nurture another woman...at the cost of my own deep love.
A snick and the door closed. A sound that emanated the closure of one chapter of my life.
The sun of my light swelled in upon itself and the dark side of light became my own.
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