A figure in black approaches silently, leaned against her dresser. Blue eyes watching her carefully with a tilt of his head. A touch of a smile on his face. He liked to watch her.
A light laugh from Ishamael as his hands fell across her shoulders. Delicate touches on bare skin. Slowly he leaned over her shoulder his voice a low whisper.
His eyes narrow slightly as his hands slide down her shoulders, taking the straps of her dress with them. His wintergreen breath hissed across the side of her face was he whispered to her.
"I will not abandon you. I will not forsake you."
His hand slide around to the front of her throat, almost a caress, but not quite.
"Astoreth, you are mine, and I will not leave you."
And she smiled -- lighter, then, eyes brighter and more aware. Actually seeing things as they were, and not as frightened memory related, had become rarer in moments like these, but she managed.
He could feel the change in her demeanor as his hand was around her throat. Kissing her cheek, he slid a hand from her bare shoulder to high up on her chest.
"Always mine..."
The tip of his tongue slid up the back of her ear before a twisted grin shown in the mirror. Another low purr. Those were the rules. He always asked, and she never said no.
A long, low laugh from Ishamael as the glowbulbs in the room dimmed. He always liked the dark.
His hand slipped down her bodice to fondle her breast. It was always this way. People answered his touch, they answered his call. Like puppets on a string.
A kiss to the side of her mouth. His hand tensed on her breast. She responded to his wishes-mind and body. Everything was controlled by him.
Not for much longer, though. Like a broken doll, like the straps on her gown, he would let her fall. Sacrifices were necessary. She could not defeat Malacoda, and he knew that.
But she would be his till the very end. Laughing as his fingertips slid across her sensitive flesh.
Stifling with his own giggle with a kiss, he smiled at her.
"Astoreth."
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The observation game suited her just fine. She didn't turn, but did smile, reflected in her mirror.
All the while fighting with aforementioned hair.
Pompadours are complicated.
"Does this look proper, from the back?"
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"Yes, Astoreth, it does."
A pause as a delicate finger traces on her neck.
"Readying for this evening?"
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She smiled at his hand -- that same thin-lined smile, the one that wasn't born from manic amusement.
"It may take me all day to do so."
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"Strong of mind, fit of body..."
A soft giggle.
"Make me proud tonight."
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Her sanity gets lost, every now and then, when she's around others on her level.
"I shall do no less."
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"Be very careful, Astoreth."
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She still seemed amused.
The girl was reckless.
She cared little for life.
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"Of Malacoda. She's dangerous, and quite powerful."
Far more powerful than Astoreth. His delicate hands slid down to her shoulders-a soft caress.
"You are very useful to me. My very favorite. I would hate to lose you."
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She leaned her head against his shoulder, suddenly listless.
( don't leave the ones you love )
( we're always going )
Bad memories usually stayed away, but they'd come for a visit.
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"I will not abandon you. I will not forsake you."
His hand slide around to the front of her throat, almost a caress, but not quite.
"Astoreth, you are mine, and I will not leave you."
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"And so I shall remain."
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"Always mine..."
The tip of his tongue slid up the back of her ear before a twisted grin shown in the mirror. Another low purr. Those were the rules. He always asked, and she never said no.
"May I?"
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Not based on any particular prejudice, she would argue, if asked, but simply a fact of preference.
She never did.
"Aye," she whispered, amidst a low giggle -- ears, as it were, tickled horribly.
Her cousins used to tease her like that. She doesn't remember.
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His hand slipped down her bodice to fondle her breast. It was always this way. People answered his touch, they answered his call. Like puppets on a string.
A kiss to the side of her mouth. His hand tensed on her breast. She responded to his wishes-mind and body. Everything was controlled by him.
Not for much longer, though. Like a broken doll, like the straps on her gown, he would let her fall. Sacrifices were necessary. She could not defeat Malacoda, and he knew that.
But she would be his till the very end. Laughing as his fingertips slid across her sensitive flesh.
Stifling with his own giggle with a kiss, he smiled at her.
His.
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