Γ 15
I was aching and still bleeding from my fight with the White-Headed One-- that great, cruel bird whose sacrilegious name I won't utter-- when I found my way through Blood's villa to Hyacinth's rooms. Her small body had nearly disappeared amongst the sheets and tumbled blankets and so I did not notice her at first; until some noise, some drawn breath or low whimper alerted me, I thought myself alone in the room. I had little time to ponder this, and none to explain myself... had an explanation been necessary. Her glassy eyes stared dreamily at me and past me, lips curving in a smile, a wordless invitation. She was fine-featured, hair dark as a raven's wing tumbling over her body.
I heard in the hallway the sounds of my pursuers, the guards and private retainers of the man whose house I'd come to rob. Desperate, I tore my robe off and leaped beneath her sheets as they burst through the door. I had never seen her before; never heard tell of this woman who lived in Blood's home, whom he lent as he willed to the powerful men he sought to sway. She did not protest; she clung to me, the philtre she'd taken-- Beggar's Root, she told me later, to make her duties less abhorrent-- clouding her judgment. I believe she kissed me, then, for the first time; I cannot recall. I leaped to my feet as the men entered, kicking my vestments below the bed, and fired my needler into the darkness, shouting.
The guards stopped where they stood, and the woman beside me sat up, startled. "Go back to sleep, Hyacinth," I said. "This doesn't concern you." To this day I do not know why I called her by that name-- and yet, it was the right one, as I soon learned. The guards apologized and left us alone, assuming I numbered among Blood's many guests, and I found myself shocked into silence.
We spoke for some time, once I recovered my meager wits-- the philtre had not worn off, and she was insistent; affectionate. I explained the circumstances by which I had come to be in her home (though in a sense it was as much a cage as a home; I vividly recalled how I'd smashed Oreb's cage to kindling and longed to do the same for her, another prized and dearly-bought bird!) It seems we spoke for hours, though it could not have been so long. As we did her head seemed to clear, her gaze becoming brighter as the philtre's effects wore off.
I expected that once she was free of the Root's influence, she would scream and bring the guards back upon me, and sought to dress myself, hampered by the wounds I'd sustained. She helped me, though her smirking words were no help at all, but showed no sign of turning upon me as I'd feared. I lingered; my promises to the Outsider wavering, the sacrifice I owed Tenebrous Tartaros forgotten. I sat beside her as an augur; as though I were shriving her, though we did not speak of such things. What words did we trade? I cannot recall-- all I remember is the moment when, clear-eyed and in possession of her wits, Hyacinth leaned forward and kissed me.
"Stay with me, Silk," she said firmly, and I felt as though Comely Kypris herself had enlightened me, charging me with a solemn duty, looking in Hyacinth's eyes.
And stay I did.
May all the gods forgive me.
[ooc: This is mostly true, in fact, except for the end >D poor boy will hate himself in the morning. o god.]
I heard in the hallway the sounds of my pursuers, the guards and private retainers of the man whose house I'd come to rob. Desperate, I tore my robe off and leaped beneath her sheets as they burst through the door. I had never seen her before; never heard tell of this woman who lived in Blood's home, whom he lent as he willed to the powerful men he sought to sway. She did not protest; she clung to me, the philtre she'd taken-- Beggar's Root, she told me later, to make her duties less abhorrent-- clouding her judgment. I believe she kissed me, then, for the first time; I cannot recall. I leaped to my feet as the men entered, kicking my vestments below the bed, and fired my needler into the darkness, shouting.
The guards stopped where they stood, and the woman beside me sat up, startled. "Go back to sleep, Hyacinth," I said. "This doesn't concern you." To this day I do not know why I called her by that name-- and yet, it was the right one, as I soon learned. The guards apologized and left us alone, assuming I numbered among Blood's many guests, and I found myself shocked into silence.
We spoke for some time, once I recovered my meager wits-- the philtre had not worn off, and she was insistent; affectionate. I explained the circumstances by which I had come to be in her home (though in a sense it was as much a cage as a home; I vividly recalled how I'd smashed Oreb's cage to kindling and longed to do the same for her, another prized and dearly-bought bird!) It seems we spoke for hours, though it could not have been so long. As we did her head seemed to clear, her gaze becoming brighter as the philtre's effects wore off.
I expected that once she was free of the Root's influence, she would scream and bring the guards back upon me, and sought to dress myself, hampered by the wounds I'd sustained. She helped me, though her smirking words were no help at all, but showed no sign of turning upon me as I'd feared. I lingered; my promises to the Outsider wavering, the sacrifice I owed Tenebrous Tartaros forgotten. I sat beside her as an augur; as though I were shriving her, though we did not speak of such things. What words did we trade? I cannot recall-- all I remember is the moment when, clear-eyed and in possession of her wits, Hyacinth leaned forward and kissed me.
"Stay with me, Silk," she said firmly, and I felt as though Comely Kypris herself had enlightened me, charging me with a solemn duty, looking in Hyacinth's eyes.
And stay I did.
May all the gods forgive me.
[ooc: This is mostly true, in fact, except for the end >D poor boy will hate himself in the morning. o god.]