Death Prompt
((Idle Hands is doing a Death Prompt exercise in writing a way you could see your character dying. Skrimps and I RP'ed out Viletta's and this is the log! Collin is Skrimps. :) ))
Glass containers clinked together softly as the petite woman rearranged them in the icebox in the basement of her home. Her black hair was unbound from its normal bun and hung down her back in loose waves. A strand tickled her cheek as she closed the lid of the box and sighed. Flecks of blood stained the cuff of her sleeve but she paid it no heed as she dug a soul shard from the pocket of her rune-stitched robe.
The garment glowed with a faint blue light in the dimly lit room which served double duty as bedroom and sitting room. But the shard in her hand provided more illumination than the enchantments in her work robes; purple and pink it shone on her tired features and sparkled with an inner fire that reflected the spirit of the person she’d leeched it from. How the girl had screamed as it had been torn free! The memory of it soothed her as she flopped into the chair next to the cooler. Blood had been extracted along with the soul shard and chilled there. It likely wasn’t as delicious as fresh but it would have to do for her lunch guest.
Collin adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, making sure both cuffs and every fold were just so. He wanted to look good for Viletta, considering she always presented herself so nicely for him. It was only fair. Proud of how he looked in his fresh white shirt and black turtleneck vest, he allowed himself to quietly enter Viletta’s house without mention of his presence. The tiled floor was difficult to creep across in his stiff black boots, but at least the stone stairs could never give him away with creaks and groans. At the foot of the steps he quietly watched the delicate light show of energy and enchantments. His own solitary, blue eye added a pale glow to the room and highlighted his surprisingly clean hair.
He finally found his voice, however quiet. “Viletta?” he asked calmly. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”
Her eyes, a pale purple compared to that of the shard in her hand, looked him over slowly. Not a hint of disapproval colored her features and after a moment of staring she smiled. “Only a few minutes. Nothing to fret about.”
Certainly her mild tone of voice relayed nothing but delight at seeing him here and lent truth to her assurances. It grew darker in the room as she closed her fist around the shard and rose. Only a few steps were needed to draw near to him and her empty hand was offered with another of those smiles, a look so sweet only his eyes were gifted with it. “You always look handsome, Collin. But today you look gorgeous.”
Gorgeous. How embarrassing. Unsure of what to say, or maybe unsure of himself, he looked between her boots and his and ran a nervous hand through his hair. And then a strange feeling came over him. One he sometimes got around Viletta and which he still had difficulty coming to terms with. He wanted to hold her. To hug her despite how poorly-practiced he was. To remind himself that Viletta was there and wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.
Or maybe he just wanted to make her a bit embarrassed in return.
He gently moved her hand out of his way and hunched his shoulders near hers, awkward as it was with her being so much smaller than him. He wrapped his unsure hands around her back, barely touching her as if doing so might make her recoil. “If you keep telling me things like that I’m liable to like myself. Now hurry up and hug me so we can get on with our lunch date,” he whispered with a small laugh.
Those whispered words caused a flush in her cheeks. That strange, heart-clenching sensation was back at his touch and without knowing what else to do she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. It was just as uncertain as the one he gave but rather than hover, Viletta clung to him a moment.
No one made her feel so at ease and it scared her.
“If you refuse to like yourself I will be forced to care even more for you to make up for it.” Her own whisper was muffled by the way she hid her face against his shoulder and the smile that came with it was presented only to the black vest. “And if the truth earns me hugs I’ll tell it more often.”
Collin patted Viletta’s shoulder at her quieted words and smiled sincerely for her, revealing the ruddy tops of his fangs. “That’s enough of that sappy stuff,” he said as he moved his hands from her shoulders to the hand she held the soul shard in. “Let’s enjoy some tea alongside this fantastic company, eh?”
With gentle tugging he pulled her toward the garish bearskin rug at the center of the sitting area. He removed his hands from hers and held his empty palms out as if expecting something. “Leave me the shard and get our cups, if you’d be so kind?”
Viletta was a woman of her own mind and listened to few others, but for him she nodded and smiled in an almost girlish fashion. An observer might hazard to guess - and be correct - that she was rather keen on him. “Certainly, my dear.”
The shard was set in his hands and she turned to the shelf behind her icebox. On a burner that was designed for alchemical experiments, her kettle heated and her tea was promptly made. From her steeping cup the scent of orange zest and lemons rose but it was ignored as she prepared his own. One of the glass containers was removed from the chill box and she poured a generous serving of ‘tea’ into his cup. Not a droplet of the red, thick liquid stained the saucer as she held both of theirs in hand.
“Are we feeling wild and adventurous enough to sit on the rug today? Or boring chairs for proper manners?”
“Well,” Collin began with a small laugh and a burst of blue lich mist from his mouth, “things have been quite adventurous for me lately. Let’s embrace a wild life just this once and sit on this, uh.” He ran his hand through the thick fur of the bear skin and tried to find the perfect word. “Unique... Dreadfully hairy thing.” He smiled sheepishly and reached for the cup she had prepared for him.
“It’ll make it easier to crack this shard against the floor, besides,” he said with a nod and a wave of his hand in the direction of the stony ground. “Would you... Would you like to break it with me? Or are you content with watching?” His bright blue eye darted warily to and fro as he examined her face, worried that he may have suggested something a little too strange even for Viletta.
Though not a woman who cared about social graces, she still managed to dredge up the proper way to gracefully sink onto the hideous rug. His suggestion made her want to whoop with delight but that wasn’t proper nor seemly. Instead of grinning ear to ear as she so foolishly desired to do, Viletta sipped her citrus tea and bought herself a moment to gather her composure.
“I would greatly enjoy that, Collin.” It did not express her anxious desire to watch the essence she’d contained in crystal seep into him. To sustain him in such a ghoulish fashion. A habit of his she found herself attracted to without remorse.
Part of him wanted to be surprised but somehow he expected this is what she would want. She did gather those souls and blood, after all. How squeamish could she really be in the end? He sat his cup of blood to the side and rested the saucer on the lip of the cup to keep the air from coagulating it while he distracted himself with the shard. From his back pocket he pulled his small runeknife, folded on its self and concealed by its dark handle. Daintily he set the shard on the cold stone floor at the edge of the rug and held his still-closed knife out for Viletta to take.
“I hear it’s a strange sensation, holding a runeblade that doesn’t belong to you. Nitrostat said it made his hands very cold and he felt as if he were covered in bugs. The button’s at the bottom there. The little silver switch to open it,” he said with a nod of his head. He brought himself a little closer to her and sat on the rug with his hips touching hers. “Be careful not to cut yourself. It swings out fast from the left.”
Today was a day for many of her secret desires to be fulfilled it seemed. That runeblade fascinated her but it seemed too private, too personal, to ask to hold it. But offered to her? She took it as soon as her teacup was set on the stone floor besides the rug. It wobbled slightly with the speed she discarded it but the tea didn’t spill out or make a mess on her clean floor.
Even unopened the blade chilled her fingers and the cold traveled up her arm to the shoulder. Beneath her skin there was a creeping sensation that, as he warned her, reminded her of skittering insects. Discomfort went hand in hand with her own magics and to the best of her ability she pushed them aside.
“And then I just smash it with the blade? Or do I slice it? I tend to watch your face rather than the blade when you do this, my dear.” She followed his precise instructions and opened the blade. It came out so quickly she was almost startled and were it not for his warning she might have been. Any threads of fear were frozen and forgotten as she stared at the runes on the blade itself.
“It’s so lovely.”
Collin fidgeted in his seat slightly when she finally opened the weapon. He watched the runes pulsate like the beating of a heart before he looked to the woman next to him. Absently he stared at the tiny blue reflections in her purple eyes. There was excitement and determination and maybe... Almost hunger in them. He couldn’t bring himself to smile about that.
“The shards are very hard, but also very fragile. Stab it forcefully, like... Like you want it to go all the way through and stick into the floor. It won’t, don’t worry. But it takes that sort of energy. That sort of desire to see it broken”
Once more he looked to his blade. He nodded to it, as if he expected it to understand something unspoken. Or maybe it did? “I don’t know if you’ll feel anything. Any of the soul’s energy. Probably not. But... Be prepared. It’s warm. It tingles, like the feeling of a numb arm waking up again. You’ll feel it in your chest. Life, fire, inspiration. There’s a sadness to it too. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like... Realizing that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to see the sun just before you step out of the darkness for the first time in years. It is for me, anyway.”
Such a description would have repelled a normal person. Normal didn’t apply to anyone in this basement however and Viletta almost snuggled against his side with a smile. The amount of trust he must have in her to allow this was overwhelming and filled her with a heady delight. No one trusted her on such a personal level and she’d endeavor to make him feel the same. Though the blade still chilled her arm and the sickening feeling of crawling creatures had not abated, she was so happy.
“Thank you for the warning, Collin. It’s...it only makes me want to understand you more and more. Thank you for that too.” Her empty hand cupped his cheek a moment, the wash of delight at what was to come overriding her normal respect for his personal space. But those soft fingers did not linger long and soon her eyes were back on the shard.
It looked so innocent there, lying next to her rug. Perhaps a forgotten gemstone to an ignorant eye. But as the purple crystal glittered there she knew better. Swiftly the blade was raised and with all the intent to shatter it to nothing more than dull, expended slivers.
When the tip of his runeblade touched the shard it gave way helplessly. Just as he’d warned her, there was a strange rush of energy into her. Viletta had drained a countless number of souls in her work and burnt their charges for her own practices. But this, this blade feeding on and leeching the life energies was new. It didn’t feel like the oily coating of a healthstone knitting together flesh. Nor did it recall to mind the dark pleasure at empowering of her magics at the cost of another person’s soul. It filled her in a hot rush that contrasted so sharply with the stinging chill that it hurt her. A searing pain that melted away the cold, it made her hiss in pain. No curses or angry words tumbled off her lips as it faded. Only a melancholy was left where fire and ice had fought in her flesh and it confused her. Was this the sadness he spoke of? It had to be and it was so unwelcome.
Her hand against his cheek caused him an involuntary spasm as he tried to twitch away and had to fight his instincts. When her hand fell from his face he set his single eye’s hard gaze on her and watched. Watched her strike, wrestle the burn, but couldn’t watch the sadness hit her. The same rush of energy she experienced soaked into his chest, transferred from what his blade had absorbed, and he winced. But there was something unsatisfying about it. What energy Viletta had experienced from the shard was hers and hers alone, but he felt the same gripping sadness that she had. The emotional burden without the full burst of energy to push him through left him searching for more.
He slid his hand over the one she held the knife in and leaned a little closer to her. The glow of his eye changed her dark skin to blue at such a close proximity. “Have you got another, Viletta? Another shard?...”
They were hardly ever this close. It unnerved her slightly but she didn’t shy away. Her hand that had rested on his cheek before their experiment moved to his shoulder. Eyes darted from his lips back to his eye. “No, Collin. I used the rest in some of my work today.”
And one to mend the wounds this victim, his meal, had made on her body. Viletta wasn’t one to care whether she was attractive or not but it wouldn’t do to be covered in scars. Scars brought questions and with her activities so hidden she couldn’t risk that.
“I can get you more tomorrow, love. Three even if you’d like.” This sadness in her was unsettling and she didn’t know how to relieve it. Woe was not something she was prone to and the idea that he felt it each time he fed his Hunger made it grow even more. It swelled in her chest till she swore she felt her heart break under the burden. But his hand on hers was an anchor and she smiled softly at him in thanks for it.
Tomorrow?
Tomorrow?...
With his delicate surgeon’s touch he began to pry the knife from Viletta’s grasp, folding her fingers away from the weapon under the guise of holding her hand while his other moved to pick up the weapon.
He buried his strangely-crooked nose in her hair and whispered in her ear, “You’re lying to me, Viletta.” His hand tightened around the curved handle of his runeblade as he slowly dragged it closer to himself. He held it by his hip and let his fingers flex around the knife in his hand.
“Tomorrow’s not soon enough, and I know you’ve got another.”
He hugged her tightly to himself and held her at an angle. There was just enough room. Just enough room for him to strike out with his blade and bury it into her stomach as he pressed her shoulders into his. He let it linger there. Let it soak in the blood.
Betrayal wasn’t unknown to her. Didn’t she wear the reminder of it inside the bird-skull locket around her neck? That sliver of a soul shard wouldn’t have been enough to fill him and it was too important to give up. As important as her life though?
No.
She’d have traded it for living had she known what this unexpected intimacy would lead to. That nuzzle had warmed her heart and eased most of the sadness within her. To be close to him as they were now had been a wish of hers she’d never been brave enough to lend voice to. Lips had parted in a vain attempt to assure him that she was certain there were no more here for the taking.
Any words were cut off by the stab to her stomach. It was unexpected and she cried out at the feeling of cut flesh and broken trust. “C-Collin!” Her hand squeezed his tightly and her nails dug into his skin in fear. A green glow fizzled around their fingers as she weakly tried to drain some of his life to stabilize and save hers.
It was of no use. Her spell faded as the cold that began in her stomach. It felt like frost crystallizing her flesh and reminded her of another time. Another place. No longer could she feel the heat from her blood surrounding his runeblade. Her limbs felt leaden from blood loss and the slow draining of her essence into his blade and the man who held her almost like a lover. Something they would never be.
Anger colored her features and burned in her dimming eyes. How could he do this to her? Words died on her tongue as she clutched roughly at his hand. Her other tried to cup or claw his cheek again. She felt helpless as her soul feed his Hunger. The pain of it was immeasurable and stole what little breath she had left in her lungs.
If he had been thinking, he might have noticed that she was putting up a surprisingly weak fight. The peeled flesh beneath her fingernails might have caught his attention even with his limited sense of touch. The last sparks of life fueling anger in her pained expression certainly would have given him pause. As it were, none of these things mattered to him. All that mattered was sating his desperate hunger, and these were far from obstacles. All he knew was that he was steadily feeling more and more alive. As if to make it easy for her - though surely not for any reason quite so selfless - he carefully lowered Viletta to the floor and leaned over her, one hand gently holding her down by the collarbone and the other busy steadying the knife.
But as her blood soaked into his blade and her life force slowly drained away, something began to change. Why couldn’t he look her in the eye? Why did it worry him how cold her skin was becoming? Still seized by the unrelenting pull of his blade and its hunger, he couldn’t quite understand. He didn’t have to understand that he couldn’t answer the pleading of her dying eyes to know that he had to look away. His cold cheek pressed against hers, his face buried in her hair, he began to feel better. Viletta had that effect on him. It was a good thing that she would always be there.
With the last of the energy she had left, her hands moved to hold him in a mockery of a hug. One wound in his black hair and she was disappointed that she could no longer feel it or appreciate that he’d bathed for her. The other rested on his back and though weakened and in her last moments it flickered again with that same green light. Just a taste, just a sip, of his essence would expire with her. She would not die without a single strike back.
A whisper of laughter bubbled in her throat and sounded little more than a gasp. If she had been able to properly snicker he’d have heard the bitterness in that sound. To hold him like this had been another of her desires and it seemed that it would be the last thing they shared.
Her eyes, that purple shade he’d been so mesmerized with once, closed as her heartbeat slowed and the ripping, searing pain of his theft faded into nothingness. She joined it in seconds as her heart stopped and her hand fell limply from his back.
For a woman who’d never felt right - always out of place and out of sorts - she’d felt here, in his arms, was a place she could belong. The anger didn’t diminish in those final seconds. It flared and burned in her till the last shreds of her soul were sucked into him and his blade.
She truly would be with him always now.
A strange tingle, the smallest prod, wove its self along his spine before Viletta’s hand came to rest on his back. The spell’s spiteful lingering surprised him into a state of awareness once again and he lifted his head to question what was happening. When he saw the paleness of her face and the way her eyes were so lifelessly closed he already knew what had happened. It hadn’t been another twisted fantasy that he nightly prayed he might find some respite from. He was alone in the room with the lifeless body of someone he had called a friend. More than a friend. For the first time in his life. The second in hers. The realization that the empty figure of the beautiful woman under his hands had only seconds ago had hopes and dreams and desires pushed emotions from his heart to his throat, and he cried out in pain for what he had done.
“Viletta!” he pleaded as he tore the knife from her wound to hold her face in his hands. “Viletta!” he begged, as if by begging he might bring her back. Bloody stains framed her face when he pulled his hands from her cheeks, and the sight of it was too much. His desperate howl’s only answer was its own hollow echo from the stone-walled room.
Not again. Not this time. Not Viletta.
He could save her.
He could try.
Inspired to fight back against his overwhelming emotions and fix this wrong he bit down on his tongue and placed his hands over top her wound. The wound he’d made.
Everything can be reversed. No mistake can be forever...
He tried to channel magic into her body. With all of the energy he had stolen, he should have been able to do it. But just as Viletta’s attempt at stealing from him had fizzled so ineffectually, so did his attempt to give back to her. His necromancy rebounded off her cursed blood, which refused to yield. If he hadn’t already been crouching over her he might have fallen to his knees.
It would be forever.
Dreams forever unfulfilled.
A life forever unlived.
Peace of mind that would forever elude him.
Loneliness forever.
He pushed himself across fur of the rug and reached out with unsteady hands to numbly grasp the teacup Viletta had poured for him. Porcelain rattled against itself as he fought to find the control to remove the saucer without throwing it at the wall. The blood inside the cup had kept its consistency after all this time. Smooth and perfect.
His own red-tinged reflection stared back at him, hideous.
Forever.
Glass containers clinked together softly as the petite woman rearranged them in the icebox in the basement of her home. Her black hair was unbound from its normal bun and hung down her back in loose waves. A strand tickled her cheek as she closed the lid of the box and sighed. Flecks of blood stained the cuff of her sleeve but she paid it no heed as she dug a soul shard from the pocket of her rune-stitched robe.
The garment glowed with a faint blue light in the dimly lit room which served double duty as bedroom and sitting room. But the shard in her hand provided more illumination than the enchantments in her work robes; purple and pink it shone on her tired features and sparkled with an inner fire that reflected the spirit of the person she’d leeched it from. How the girl had screamed as it had been torn free! The memory of it soothed her as she flopped into the chair next to the cooler. Blood had been extracted along with the soul shard and chilled there. It likely wasn’t as delicious as fresh but it would have to do for her lunch guest.
Collin adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, making sure both cuffs and every fold were just so. He wanted to look good for Viletta, considering she always presented herself so nicely for him. It was only fair. Proud of how he looked in his fresh white shirt and black turtleneck vest, he allowed himself to quietly enter Viletta’s house without mention of his presence. The tiled floor was difficult to creep across in his stiff black boots, but at least the stone stairs could never give him away with creaks and groans. At the foot of the steps he quietly watched the delicate light show of energy and enchantments. His own solitary, blue eye added a pale glow to the room and highlighted his surprisingly clean hair.
He finally found his voice, however quiet. “Viletta?” he asked calmly. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”
Her eyes, a pale purple compared to that of the shard in her hand, looked him over slowly. Not a hint of disapproval colored her features and after a moment of staring she smiled. “Only a few minutes. Nothing to fret about.”
Certainly her mild tone of voice relayed nothing but delight at seeing him here and lent truth to her assurances. It grew darker in the room as she closed her fist around the shard and rose. Only a few steps were needed to draw near to him and her empty hand was offered with another of those smiles, a look so sweet only his eyes were gifted with it. “You always look handsome, Collin. But today you look gorgeous.”
Gorgeous. How embarrassing. Unsure of what to say, or maybe unsure of himself, he looked between her boots and his and ran a nervous hand through his hair. And then a strange feeling came over him. One he sometimes got around Viletta and which he still had difficulty coming to terms with. He wanted to hold her. To hug her despite how poorly-practiced he was. To remind himself that Viletta was there and wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.
Or maybe he just wanted to make her a bit embarrassed in return.
He gently moved her hand out of his way and hunched his shoulders near hers, awkward as it was with her being so much smaller than him. He wrapped his unsure hands around her back, barely touching her as if doing so might make her recoil. “If you keep telling me things like that I’m liable to like myself. Now hurry up and hug me so we can get on with our lunch date,” he whispered with a small laugh.
Those whispered words caused a flush in her cheeks. That strange, heart-clenching sensation was back at his touch and without knowing what else to do she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. It was just as uncertain as the one he gave but rather than hover, Viletta clung to him a moment.
No one made her feel so at ease and it scared her.
“If you refuse to like yourself I will be forced to care even more for you to make up for it.” Her own whisper was muffled by the way she hid her face against his shoulder and the smile that came with it was presented only to the black vest. “And if the truth earns me hugs I’ll tell it more often.”
Collin patted Viletta’s shoulder at her quieted words and smiled sincerely for her, revealing the ruddy tops of his fangs. “That’s enough of that sappy stuff,” he said as he moved his hands from her shoulders to the hand she held the soul shard in. “Let’s enjoy some tea alongside this fantastic company, eh?”
With gentle tugging he pulled her toward the garish bearskin rug at the center of the sitting area. He removed his hands from hers and held his empty palms out as if expecting something. “Leave me the shard and get our cups, if you’d be so kind?”
Viletta was a woman of her own mind and listened to few others, but for him she nodded and smiled in an almost girlish fashion. An observer might hazard to guess - and be correct - that she was rather keen on him. “Certainly, my dear.”
The shard was set in his hands and she turned to the shelf behind her icebox. On a burner that was designed for alchemical experiments, her kettle heated and her tea was promptly made. From her steeping cup the scent of orange zest and lemons rose but it was ignored as she prepared his own. One of the glass containers was removed from the chill box and she poured a generous serving of ‘tea’ into his cup. Not a droplet of the red, thick liquid stained the saucer as she held both of theirs in hand.
“Are we feeling wild and adventurous enough to sit on the rug today? Or boring chairs for proper manners?”
“Well,” Collin began with a small laugh and a burst of blue lich mist from his mouth, “things have been quite adventurous for me lately. Let’s embrace a wild life just this once and sit on this, uh.” He ran his hand through the thick fur of the bear skin and tried to find the perfect word. “Unique... Dreadfully hairy thing.” He smiled sheepishly and reached for the cup she had prepared for him.
“It’ll make it easier to crack this shard against the floor, besides,” he said with a nod and a wave of his hand in the direction of the stony ground. “Would you... Would you like to break it with me? Or are you content with watching?” His bright blue eye darted warily to and fro as he examined her face, worried that he may have suggested something a little too strange even for Viletta.
Though not a woman who cared about social graces, she still managed to dredge up the proper way to gracefully sink onto the hideous rug. His suggestion made her want to whoop with delight but that wasn’t proper nor seemly. Instead of grinning ear to ear as she so foolishly desired to do, Viletta sipped her citrus tea and bought herself a moment to gather her composure.
“I would greatly enjoy that, Collin.” It did not express her anxious desire to watch the essence she’d contained in crystal seep into him. To sustain him in such a ghoulish fashion. A habit of his she found herself attracted to without remorse.
Part of him wanted to be surprised but somehow he expected this is what she would want. She did gather those souls and blood, after all. How squeamish could she really be in the end? He sat his cup of blood to the side and rested the saucer on the lip of the cup to keep the air from coagulating it while he distracted himself with the shard. From his back pocket he pulled his small runeknife, folded on its self and concealed by its dark handle. Daintily he set the shard on the cold stone floor at the edge of the rug and held his still-closed knife out for Viletta to take.
“I hear it’s a strange sensation, holding a runeblade that doesn’t belong to you. Nitrostat said it made his hands very cold and he felt as if he were covered in bugs. The button’s at the bottom there. The little silver switch to open it,” he said with a nod of his head. He brought himself a little closer to her and sat on the rug with his hips touching hers. “Be careful not to cut yourself. It swings out fast from the left.”
Today was a day for many of her secret desires to be fulfilled it seemed. That runeblade fascinated her but it seemed too private, too personal, to ask to hold it. But offered to her? She took it as soon as her teacup was set on the stone floor besides the rug. It wobbled slightly with the speed she discarded it but the tea didn’t spill out or make a mess on her clean floor.
Even unopened the blade chilled her fingers and the cold traveled up her arm to the shoulder. Beneath her skin there was a creeping sensation that, as he warned her, reminded her of skittering insects. Discomfort went hand in hand with her own magics and to the best of her ability she pushed them aside.
“And then I just smash it with the blade? Or do I slice it? I tend to watch your face rather than the blade when you do this, my dear.” She followed his precise instructions and opened the blade. It came out so quickly she was almost startled and were it not for his warning she might have been. Any threads of fear were frozen and forgotten as she stared at the runes on the blade itself.
“It’s so lovely.”
Collin fidgeted in his seat slightly when she finally opened the weapon. He watched the runes pulsate like the beating of a heart before he looked to the woman next to him. Absently he stared at the tiny blue reflections in her purple eyes. There was excitement and determination and maybe... Almost hunger in them. He couldn’t bring himself to smile about that.
“The shards are very hard, but also very fragile. Stab it forcefully, like... Like you want it to go all the way through and stick into the floor. It won’t, don’t worry. But it takes that sort of energy. That sort of desire to see it broken”
Once more he looked to his blade. He nodded to it, as if he expected it to understand something unspoken. Or maybe it did? “I don’t know if you’ll feel anything. Any of the soul’s energy. Probably not. But... Be prepared. It’s warm. It tingles, like the feeling of a numb arm waking up again. You’ll feel it in your chest. Life, fire, inspiration. There’s a sadness to it too. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like... Realizing that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to see the sun just before you step out of the darkness for the first time in years. It is for me, anyway.”
Such a description would have repelled a normal person. Normal didn’t apply to anyone in this basement however and Viletta almost snuggled against his side with a smile. The amount of trust he must have in her to allow this was overwhelming and filled her with a heady delight. No one trusted her on such a personal level and she’d endeavor to make him feel the same. Though the blade still chilled her arm and the sickening feeling of crawling creatures had not abated, she was so happy.
“Thank you for the warning, Collin. It’s...it only makes me want to understand you more and more. Thank you for that too.” Her empty hand cupped his cheek a moment, the wash of delight at what was to come overriding her normal respect for his personal space. But those soft fingers did not linger long and soon her eyes were back on the shard.
It looked so innocent there, lying next to her rug. Perhaps a forgotten gemstone to an ignorant eye. But as the purple crystal glittered there she knew better. Swiftly the blade was raised and with all the intent to shatter it to nothing more than dull, expended slivers.
When the tip of his runeblade touched the shard it gave way helplessly. Just as he’d warned her, there was a strange rush of energy into her. Viletta had drained a countless number of souls in her work and burnt their charges for her own practices. But this, this blade feeding on and leeching the life energies was new. It didn’t feel like the oily coating of a healthstone knitting together flesh. Nor did it recall to mind the dark pleasure at empowering of her magics at the cost of another person’s soul. It filled her in a hot rush that contrasted so sharply with the stinging chill that it hurt her. A searing pain that melted away the cold, it made her hiss in pain. No curses or angry words tumbled off her lips as it faded. Only a melancholy was left where fire and ice had fought in her flesh and it confused her. Was this the sadness he spoke of? It had to be and it was so unwelcome.
Her hand against his cheek caused him an involuntary spasm as he tried to twitch away and had to fight his instincts. When her hand fell from his face he set his single eye’s hard gaze on her and watched. Watched her strike, wrestle the burn, but couldn’t watch the sadness hit her. The same rush of energy she experienced soaked into his chest, transferred from what his blade had absorbed, and he winced. But there was something unsatisfying about it. What energy Viletta had experienced from the shard was hers and hers alone, but he felt the same gripping sadness that she had. The emotional burden without the full burst of energy to push him through left him searching for more.
He slid his hand over the one she held the knife in and leaned a little closer to her. The glow of his eye changed her dark skin to blue at such a close proximity. “Have you got another, Viletta? Another shard?...”
They were hardly ever this close. It unnerved her slightly but she didn’t shy away. Her hand that had rested on his cheek before their experiment moved to his shoulder. Eyes darted from his lips back to his eye. “No, Collin. I used the rest in some of my work today.”
And one to mend the wounds this victim, his meal, had made on her body. Viletta wasn’t one to care whether she was attractive or not but it wouldn’t do to be covered in scars. Scars brought questions and with her activities so hidden she couldn’t risk that.
“I can get you more tomorrow, love. Three even if you’d like.” This sadness in her was unsettling and she didn’t know how to relieve it. Woe was not something she was prone to and the idea that he felt it each time he fed his Hunger made it grow even more. It swelled in her chest till she swore she felt her heart break under the burden. But his hand on hers was an anchor and she smiled softly at him in thanks for it.
Tomorrow?
Tomorrow?...
With his delicate surgeon’s touch he began to pry the knife from Viletta’s grasp, folding her fingers away from the weapon under the guise of holding her hand while his other moved to pick up the weapon.
He buried his strangely-crooked nose in her hair and whispered in her ear, “You’re lying to me, Viletta.” His hand tightened around the curved handle of his runeblade as he slowly dragged it closer to himself. He held it by his hip and let his fingers flex around the knife in his hand.
“Tomorrow’s not soon enough, and I know you’ve got another.”
He hugged her tightly to himself and held her at an angle. There was just enough room. Just enough room for him to strike out with his blade and bury it into her stomach as he pressed her shoulders into his. He let it linger there. Let it soak in the blood.
Betrayal wasn’t unknown to her. Didn’t she wear the reminder of it inside the bird-skull locket around her neck? That sliver of a soul shard wouldn’t have been enough to fill him and it was too important to give up. As important as her life though?
No.
She’d have traded it for living had she known what this unexpected intimacy would lead to. That nuzzle had warmed her heart and eased most of the sadness within her. To be close to him as they were now had been a wish of hers she’d never been brave enough to lend voice to. Lips had parted in a vain attempt to assure him that she was certain there were no more here for the taking.
Any words were cut off by the stab to her stomach. It was unexpected and she cried out at the feeling of cut flesh and broken trust. “C-Collin!” Her hand squeezed his tightly and her nails dug into his skin in fear. A green glow fizzled around their fingers as she weakly tried to drain some of his life to stabilize and save hers.
It was of no use. Her spell faded as the cold that began in her stomach. It felt like frost crystallizing her flesh and reminded her of another time. Another place. No longer could she feel the heat from her blood surrounding his runeblade. Her limbs felt leaden from blood loss and the slow draining of her essence into his blade and the man who held her almost like a lover. Something they would never be.
Anger colored her features and burned in her dimming eyes. How could he do this to her? Words died on her tongue as she clutched roughly at his hand. Her other tried to cup or claw his cheek again. She felt helpless as her soul feed his Hunger. The pain of it was immeasurable and stole what little breath she had left in her lungs.
If he had been thinking, he might have noticed that she was putting up a surprisingly weak fight. The peeled flesh beneath her fingernails might have caught his attention even with his limited sense of touch. The last sparks of life fueling anger in her pained expression certainly would have given him pause. As it were, none of these things mattered to him. All that mattered was sating his desperate hunger, and these were far from obstacles. All he knew was that he was steadily feeling more and more alive. As if to make it easy for her - though surely not for any reason quite so selfless - he carefully lowered Viletta to the floor and leaned over her, one hand gently holding her down by the collarbone and the other busy steadying the knife.
But as her blood soaked into his blade and her life force slowly drained away, something began to change. Why couldn’t he look her in the eye? Why did it worry him how cold her skin was becoming? Still seized by the unrelenting pull of his blade and its hunger, he couldn’t quite understand. He didn’t have to understand that he couldn’t answer the pleading of her dying eyes to know that he had to look away. His cold cheek pressed against hers, his face buried in her hair, he began to feel better. Viletta had that effect on him. It was a good thing that she would always be there.
With the last of the energy she had left, her hands moved to hold him in a mockery of a hug. One wound in his black hair and she was disappointed that she could no longer feel it or appreciate that he’d bathed for her. The other rested on his back and though weakened and in her last moments it flickered again with that same green light. Just a taste, just a sip, of his essence would expire with her. She would not die without a single strike back.
A whisper of laughter bubbled in her throat and sounded little more than a gasp. If she had been able to properly snicker he’d have heard the bitterness in that sound. To hold him like this had been another of her desires and it seemed that it would be the last thing they shared.
Her eyes, that purple shade he’d been so mesmerized with once, closed as her heartbeat slowed and the ripping, searing pain of his theft faded into nothingness. She joined it in seconds as her heart stopped and her hand fell limply from his back.
For a woman who’d never felt right - always out of place and out of sorts - she’d felt here, in his arms, was a place she could belong. The anger didn’t diminish in those final seconds. It flared and burned in her till the last shreds of her soul were sucked into him and his blade.
She truly would be with him always now.
A strange tingle, the smallest prod, wove its self along his spine before Viletta’s hand came to rest on his back. The spell’s spiteful lingering surprised him into a state of awareness once again and he lifted his head to question what was happening. When he saw the paleness of her face and the way her eyes were so lifelessly closed he already knew what had happened. It hadn’t been another twisted fantasy that he nightly prayed he might find some respite from. He was alone in the room with the lifeless body of someone he had called a friend. More than a friend. For the first time in his life. The second in hers. The realization that the empty figure of the beautiful woman under his hands had only seconds ago had hopes and dreams and desires pushed emotions from his heart to his throat, and he cried out in pain for what he had done.
“Viletta!” he pleaded as he tore the knife from her wound to hold her face in his hands. “Viletta!” he begged, as if by begging he might bring her back. Bloody stains framed her face when he pulled his hands from her cheeks, and the sight of it was too much. His desperate howl’s only answer was its own hollow echo from the stone-walled room.
Not again. Not this time. Not Viletta.
He could save her.
He could try.
Inspired to fight back against his overwhelming emotions and fix this wrong he bit down on his tongue and placed his hands over top her wound. The wound he’d made.
Everything can be reversed. No mistake can be forever...
He tried to channel magic into her body. With all of the energy he had stolen, he should have been able to do it. But just as Viletta’s attempt at stealing from him had fizzled so ineffectually, so did his attempt to give back to her. His necromancy rebounded off her cursed blood, which refused to yield. If he hadn’t already been crouching over her he might have fallen to his knees.
It would be forever.
Dreams forever unfulfilled.
A life forever unlived.
Peace of mind that would forever elude him.
Loneliness forever.
He pushed himself across fur of the rug and reached out with unsteady hands to numbly grasp the teacup Viletta had poured for him. Porcelain rattled against itself as he fought to find the control to remove the saucer without throwing it at the wall. The blood inside the cup had kept its consistency after all this time. Smooth and perfect.
His own red-tinged reflection stared back at him, hideous.
Forever.