Paradise Lost, 1.9
Marguerite plastered a smile on her face, it was show time. She was waiting in a gauzy tent in a paradise maintained by blood sacrifice and excessive consumption. Not unlike Paris, really. She hated the burgundy layer of gauze and the white slip that they claimed was a dress which went under it.
“Marguerite, welcome to eternity,” Kiren said, entering the tent. He minced towards her, wineglass in hand. Dressed in a white toga and a gaudy broach, he paused to appraise her altered appearance. Setting down his glass, his mouth was stretched into a smile, “You look magnificent…”
He picked up a piece of fruit, crossed the room and offered it to Marguerite, “…like you belong.”
She raised her hands to signal to him that she didn’t want the fruit. “About my friends…,” she started with trepidation.
“Your friends,” he said, touching the tip of her nose gently, “will always be a part of you.”
Happy smile, dear heart. “Of course,” she said, accepting the youth giving fruit. Marguerite walked away from him. She swayed slightly as she walked and he followed him like a fish on the line.
“It does seem wrong somehow,” she smiled and laughed a little, feigning the embarrassment of the innocent, “eating them.” She made a nervous hand gesture.
He stood behind her and said in a stern, yet concerned voice, “Marguerite, there is no room for doubt. Not anymore.”
Marguerite turned to look at him. Looking earnestly into her eyes, he said, “The food gives us not only life and strength but serenity as well. Negative emotions destroy that gift.”
He looked at her as if she were a naughty child, “I can’t have you infecting the others with fear and guilt.”
“I’ve never had any trouble with my conscience,” Marguerite replied, smiling seductively and leaning in towards him.
His mouth twisted into a grin-he evidently thought that she was as good as his, “Good.”
He leaned in for a kiss; she tilted her head and pulled him closer to her with her left hand on his neck. Her right hand rested on the small table next to them and the tip of her pinky touched the knife. As she deepened their kiss, she took it in her hand and stabbed him in the back.
Well, there it was. She’d killed…again. As the life drained out of him, her mouth curved into a smile. A genuine smile. His eyes filled with terror and realization of her betrayal, “I offered you immortality.”
She let him fall and he landed on the table, which collapsed under his weight. The life-giving fruit spilled onto the floor and his prone body crushed them.
“I’m a little choosey about who I spend eternity with,” she said to no one, as the rage slowly subsided. Squeezing her eyes shut, she corrected her own grammar-she aught to have said, “About with whom I spend eternity.” Or something like that. She turned her back to the corpse and her thoughts returned to Roxton who was always so willing to think the worst of her even though she had never done anything to him. Bending down, she withdrew one of Roxton’s Webleys from a drawer in a small table. Unbidden, she smiled again, thinking of Roxton and his stupid guns. What would Roxton do if he were in her place? Probably something stupid and honorable. No, she would have to do something clever. “It’s time for a little trouble in paradise,” she said, striding confidently out of his tent.
…Where she met that blonde who was obsessed with Kiren. Opening her eyes wide to affect innocence, she groped for words, “Lovely day…today.”
The blonde smiled condescendingly at Marguerite who didn’t know that it was possible to smile with condescension, “Greetings, sister.”
“Can I help you with something,” Marguerite asked, swaying.
“Is Kiren in,” the blonde tried to look in the tent.
“No, he’s…resting. Sorry,” Marguerite blocked the other woman.
“Umm, I see,” she turned to leave. “I know what you’re hiding.”
Stunned, Marguerite asked, “you do?”
“Jealousy is an emotion not worthy of eternity,” the blonde was in a snit.
Marguerite sighed resignedly, “you see right through me.”
The condescension returned, “You’re new here, so I won’t report you…this time.”
Marguerite looked down bashfully, a demure maiden worthy of eternity.
As soon as blondie was out of sight, Marguerite hastened to Roxton and the others.
“Marguerite, welcome to eternity,” Kiren said, entering the tent. He minced towards her, wineglass in hand. Dressed in a white toga and a gaudy broach, he paused to appraise her altered appearance. Setting down his glass, his mouth was stretched into a smile, “You look magnificent…”
He picked up a piece of fruit, crossed the room and offered it to Marguerite, “…like you belong.”
She raised her hands to signal to him that she didn’t want the fruit. “About my friends…,” she started with trepidation.
“Your friends,” he said, touching the tip of her nose gently, “will always be a part of you.”
Happy smile, dear heart. “Of course,” she said, accepting the youth giving fruit. Marguerite walked away from him. She swayed slightly as she walked and he followed him like a fish on the line.
“It does seem wrong somehow,” she smiled and laughed a little, feigning the embarrassment of the innocent, “eating them.” She made a nervous hand gesture.
He stood behind her and said in a stern, yet concerned voice, “Marguerite, there is no room for doubt. Not anymore.”
Marguerite turned to look at him. Looking earnestly into her eyes, he said, “The food gives us not only life and strength but serenity as well. Negative emotions destroy that gift.”
He looked at her as if she were a naughty child, “I can’t have you infecting the others with fear and guilt.”
“I’ve never had any trouble with my conscience,” Marguerite replied, smiling seductively and leaning in towards him.
His mouth twisted into a grin-he evidently thought that she was as good as his, “Good.”
He leaned in for a kiss; she tilted her head and pulled him closer to her with her left hand on his neck. Her right hand rested on the small table next to them and the tip of her pinky touched the knife. As she deepened their kiss, she took it in her hand and stabbed him in the back.
Well, there it was. She’d killed…again. As the life drained out of him, her mouth curved into a smile. A genuine smile. His eyes filled with terror and realization of her betrayal, “I offered you immortality.”
She let him fall and he landed on the table, which collapsed under his weight. The life-giving fruit spilled onto the floor and his prone body crushed them.
“I’m a little choosey about who I spend eternity with,” she said to no one, as the rage slowly subsided. Squeezing her eyes shut, she corrected her own grammar-she aught to have said, “About with whom I spend eternity.” Or something like that. She turned her back to the corpse and her thoughts returned to Roxton who was always so willing to think the worst of her even though she had never done anything to him. Bending down, she withdrew one of Roxton’s Webleys from a drawer in a small table. Unbidden, she smiled again, thinking of Roxton and his stupid guns. What would Roxton do if he were in her place? Probably something stupid and honorable. No, she would have to do something clever. “It’s time for a little trouble in paradise,” she said, striding confidently out of his tent.
…Where she met that blonde who was obsessed with Kiren. Opening her eyes wide to affect innocence, she groped for words, “Lovely day…today.”
The blonde smiled condescendingly at Marguerite who didn’t know that it was possible to smile with condescension, “Greetings, sister.”
“Can I help you with something,” Marguerite asked, swaying.
“Is Kiren in,” the blonde tried to look in the tent.
“No, he’s…resting. Sorry,” Marguerite blocked the other woman.
“Umm, I see,” she turned to leave. “I know what you’re hiding.”
Stunned, Marguerite asked, “you do?”
“Jealousy is an emotion not worthy of eternity,” the blonde was in a snit.
Marguerite sighed resignedly, “you see right through me.”
The condescension returned, “You’re new here, so I won’t report you…this time.”
Marguerite looked down bashfully, a demure maiden worthy of eternity.
As soon as blondie was out of sight, Marguerite hastened to Roxton and the others.