[Album Concepts] Useless.
All my useless advice
All my hanging around
All your cutting down to size
All my bringing you down
Asmodai cleared his throat. It was a quiet sound, but enough to send the healers scurrying from the room.
“You hate it, don’t you.” Her voice cracked. Broke. “She’s too much of me and none of you.”
His jaw clenched, and she felt his disapproval. “She is new blood,” he said. “She must prove herself, just as we all do.”
Merih nodded. In her arms the black kitten still lay, damp and bloodied from a birth prolonged and pained. Merih tried to feel joy. She tried to see promise and hope in those narrow-slitted eyes. She tried to feel love in the gentle brush of fur on her skin.
She failed. She failed, and she could never be forgiven.
*
“Your advice is both unwelcome and unwarranted,” Merih said. A naked demon knelt at her feet, cradling to her chest a ball of thick black fuzz. It mewled weakly. Merih sneered down at the nursemaid’s freckled flesh. “Obviously I have this… situation… under control.”
“Oh obviously,” Salome laughed. “Yes, yes of course. And Asmodai? Does he agree?”
“Asmodai is pleased to have introduced a singular element to the family line,” she said, “and he intends this to strengthen us all.”
Salome purred mockingly, stretching pale, tapered fingers up to the ceiling. “Of course. A strategic perspective. I should never have doubted.”
Black eyes glittered, onyx set in alabaster. “Salome, again, your advice is ill-meant and ill-taken, and it would behoove you to stay silent in this.”
A quiet fell on the room. The kitten stirred in her slave’s bare lap. Time melted by an hour at a time.
*
Sitri was home. His dress blacks lay on the floor, an unkempt pile of mud-stained cloth and tarnished regalia. Slick flesh slid together, apart, together again; the slave girl giggled against his sharp collarbone. “She’ll follow you everywhere,” she said. Her voice was a ragged gasp, and he shushed her with a laugh.
“She doesn’t know me,” he said. “She has… no reason.”
“It won’t matter.”
The door swished open a mere hand’s breadth. Gold eyes widened, and Sitri looked to the door. He began to laugh in earnest: softly at first, growing louder and less self-conscious with every step the interloper took.
His sister looked up at him and uttered a single, miniscule cry.
“You must be Rahab,” he said. The slave snickered, turning her face to the curve of his throat. Sitri looked back to her, clenching his jaw; he pushed away from her with a snarl. “Get your clothes.” She obeyed, pale cheeks stained with unexpected shame.
As she left Sitri paid her no mind. He gathered his clothes and dressed in silence, ever watching the silent feline lounging on his rug. Clearing his throat, he knelt down beside her. “My name is Sitri,” he said. Sitri. A taloned hand stretched out, tracing the line of one tiny ear. I am yours and you are mine. That girl was not. Remember? Us and Them.
He smiled down at her. Rahab Shahla Ragana, that much is evident. “All right, Kitten.” He picked her up, chuckling as she nipped a medal at his chest. “Let’s go light some fires.”
Album list: Ultra.
Word count: 527.
Warnings: None.
All my hanging around
All your cutting down to size
All my bringing you down
Asmodai cleared his throat. It was a quiet sound, but enough to send the healers scurrying from the room.
“You hate it, don’t you.” Her voice cracked. Broke. “She’s too much of me and none of you.”
His jaw clenched, and she felt his disapproval. “She is new blood,” he said. “She must prove herself, just as we all do.”
Merih nodded. In her arms the black kitten still lay, damp and bloodied from a birth prolonged and pained. Merih tried to feel joy. She tried to see promise and hope in those narrow-slitted eyes. She tried to feel love in the gentle brush of fur on her skin.
She failed. She failed, and she could never be forgiven.
*
“Your advice is both unwelcome and unwarranted,” Merih said. A naked demon knelt at her feet, cradling to her chest a ball of thick black fuzz. It mewled weakly. Merih sneered down at the nursemaid’s freckled flesh. “Obviously I have this… situation… under control.”
“Oh obviously,” Salome laughed. “Yes, yes of course. And Asmodai? Does he agree?”
“Asmodai is pleased to have introduced a singular element to the family line,” she said, “and he intends this to strengthen us all.”
Salome purred mockingly, stretching pale, tapered fingers up to the ceiling. “Of course. A strategic perspective. I should never have doubted.”
Black eyes glittered, onyx set in alabaster. “Salome, again, your advice is ill-meant and ill-taken, and it would behoove you to stay silent in this.”
A quiet fell on the room. The kitten stirred in her slave’s bare lap. Time melted by an hour at a time.
*
Sitri was home. His dress blacks lay on the floor, an unkempt pile of mud-stained cloth and tarnished regalia. Slick flesh slid together, apart, together again; the slave girl giggled against his sharp collarbone. “She’ll follow you everywhere,” she said. Her voice was a ragged gasp, and he shushed her with a laugh.
“She doesn’t know me,” he said. “She has… no reason.”
“It won’t matter.”
The door swished open a mere hand’s breadth. Gold eyes widened, and Sitri looked to the door. He began to laugh in earnest: softly at first, growing louder and less self-conscious with every step the interloper took.
His sister looked up at him and uttered a single, miniscule cry.
“You must be Rahab,” he said. The slave snickered, turning her face to the curve of his throat. Sitri looked back to her, clenching his jaw; he pushed away from her with a snarl. “Get your clothes.” She obeyed, pale cheeks stained with unexpected shame.
As she left Sitri paid her no mind. He gathered his clothes and dressed in silence, ever watching the silent feline lounging on his rug. Clearing his throat, he knelt down beside her. “My name is Sitri,” he said. Sitri. A taloned hand stretched out, tracing the line of one tiny ear. I am yours and you are mine. That girl was not. Remember? Us and Them.
He smiled down at her. Rahab Shahla Ragana, that much is evident. “All right, Kitten.” He picked her up, chuckling as she nipped a medal at his chest. “Let’s go light some fires.”
Album list: Ultra.
Word count: 527.
Warnings: None.