Round 4, Challenge 4, Drusilla
Title: Dance Little Puppet
Author: Lisa druinsanity
Characters/Pairing: Drusilla
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Joss is boss and I am… me. I so don’t own them.
Summary: Written for btvsats_20. Set in S2:Btvs Episode ‘Becoming, Part1’
Prompt: Talk about getting Drunk
A/N: All bolded parts are directly from the transcript.
’Dance. Dance little puppet.’ The thought filters through my mind as if it were a nursery rhyme. The dark skinned, pretty has power radiating from her very core. Part of me can’t help but wish that this were the blonde one daddy is interested in.
She’s fighting the inevitable, a battle she cannot win. She’s strong, as she should be. My power is stronger than this one. I can feel it.
I clap, breaking up the dance so that I can have this one to myself. This feast is mine. I already know its conclusion. ”Enough”
A mere eye contact begins the ritual dance and I taunt her, goading her into making the first move. ’Dance. Dance little puppet like a marionette.’ I sing-song in my head. Dodging her initial attacks is almost too easy and I knock her to the floor. When she does land a kick to my stomach, I’m ready to taste of the intoxicating fluid that runs through her veins. Even the scent of it is alluring.
A sway back and forth and a hand clasped firmly around the silky soft neck. ”Look at me, Dearie”
I have her. I know I have her and still I play, pull her farther in so that she knows exactly what is about to happen… what she is letting happen. ”Be… in my eyes. Be… in me.”
No longer do I need to hold her there. She is completely mine. I control her. Sway this way. Sway that way. Dance with me. ’Dance. Dance little puppet.’
A slice of the neck with sharp nails. I lick at my fingers; just a taste. That’s all that is needed to feel the effects of the powerful blood. Intoxicating. And daddy taught me the art of killing. I am not starving and haphazard like my William. There is another reason we’re here.
”Night-night”
I blow a kiss to the air above the slayer that has dropped to the floor; my own thank you for the drink and the dance.
”Let’s get what we came for, dears.” My heels click along the floor as I leave the others to their work. My head is whirling with a light buzz. Once out of sight, I sway back and forth a light dance of my own.
’Dance. Dance little puppet.’
Author: Lisa druinsanity
Characters/Pairing: Drusilla
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Joss is boss and I am… me. I so don’t own them.
Summary: Written for btvsats_20. Set in S2:Btvs Episode ‘Becoming, Part1’
Prompt: Talk about getting Drunk
A/N: All bolded parts are directly from the transcript.
’Dance. Dance little puppet.’ The thought filters through my mind as if it were a nursery rhyme. The dark skinned, pretty has power radiating from her very core. Part of me can’t help but wish that this were the blonde one daddy is interested in.
She’s fighting the inevitable, a battle she cannot win. She’s strong, as she should be. My power is stronger than this one. I can feel it.
I clap, breaking up the dance so that I can have this one to myself. This feast is mine. I already know its conclusion. ”Enough”
A mere eye contact begins the ritual dance and I taunt her, goading her into making the first move. ’Dance. Dance little puppet like a marionette.’ I sing-song in my head. Dodging her initial attacks is almost too easy and I knock her to the floor. When she does land a kick to my stomach, I’m ready to taste of the intoxicating fluid that runs through her veins. Even the scent of it is alluring.
A sway back and forth and a hand clasped firmly around the silky soft neck. ”Look at me, Dearie”
I have her. I know I have her and still I play, pull her farther in so that she knows exactly what is about to happen… what she is letting happen. ”Be… in my eyes. Be… in me.”
No longer do I need to hold her there. She is completely mine. I control her. Sway this way. Sway that way. Dance with me. ’Dance. Dance little puppet.’
A slice of the neck with sharp nails. I lick at my fingers; just a taste. That’s all that is needed to feel the effects of the powerful blood. Intoxicating. And daddy taught me the art of killing. I am not starving and haphazard like my William. There is another reason we’re here.
”Night-night”
I blow a kiss to the air above the slayer that has dropped to the floor; my own thank you for the drink and the dance.
”Let’s get what we came for, dears.” My heels click along the floor as I leave the others to their work. My head is whirling with a light buzz. Once out of sight, I sway back and forth a light dance of my own.
’Dance. Dance little puppet.’