09-11-2018, 01:25 PM
[[continued from Hamartia]]
This morning she let Dezhda nurse her wounds and fuss a mother's due; she let her curse and wail over the brutal injuries to her child, rubbing the rosary between her fingers, begging to a false god. When the sense of loss turned to lead in Oriena's stomach, poisoning bile from her throat, her mother smoothed her hair and whispered softly.
But there was only so much talk of angels and house spirits Ori could weather.
By early afternoon she made her excuses. The club was dark and empty, even Carmen absent on whatever distractions filled her days beyond Kallisti's smoke and glamour. As such she was surprised to find Rafael of all fucking people tucked in the room upstairs with Kasun. A mildly curious gaze took in his mangled throat; it was somehow uglier than she remembered it. She didn't bother to enquire over what they were doing, though she did notice the book on her barman's lap. Rafael was far too fucking soft.
Her wolf pricked curious ears at her entrance, though there was wariness strung in his gold gaze too. As well there should be, all things given. She stood silhouetted in the doorway, hand on hip. Crooked a finger.
"Get up, we're going out."
Her ultimatum nights previous had been both brutal and plain: "You attack one of mine again, and I won't kill you Kas. I'll cut you loose in the darkest part of the underground and let the worms eat away at that tiny shred of humanity I gave you. No family. No pack. Just you and the dark."
He looked vaguely terrified at the time. She thought he might piss himself now.
Thus as the sun died in the sky, they found themselves in the embrace of the Almaz. She'd never planned to bring him back here. Not that she'd liberated him for altruistic reasons, but she didn't want him mindless. There were other places she could have taken him to run off energy, kinder places to balm what clearly amounted to a broken soul. But she'd taught harder lessons than flinging a man off a cliff to see if he would fly.
Though there was also something else she sought from tonight. Of course.
She watched him from across the table. Kas was a far cry from the dirty, matted creature she'd pulled into Kallisti's fickle care. Dark hair fell clean away from his face, jaw shaven, deep bronze skin disappearing into a crisp collar, paled by the hint of white scars. The clothes sat a little uncomfortably (and she doubted he'd kept the shoes on his feet) but he looked like a man.
Until you absorbed the gold eyes. The tremoring edge of restlessness in territory no longer his own. He listened intently. His nostrils flexed when servers passed behind him, flinching a little away like a dog abused by his master.
The pressure was designed. The distractions, the smells, the noises. The depravity.
Clearly he was aware, for he poured great concentration into simply watching her in turn.
The fabric that curled around her neck like a choke. The sweep of her shoulders bare. The hem of the deep scarlet dress obscured the cuts on her knees - though the crusted wounds on her arms were not hidden where they stretched out to clasp her hands at her knee. Legs crossed, his gaze followed the stem of her legs. Molten blades followed the wicked slash of the heels. Just decoration, of course; Almaz didn't allow weapons into its depths. At least the kind held in a hand. But it amused her all the same that security must bow to check.
His knee began to bounce.
A smile curled Ori's lips, though she said nothing. While he acclimated, her gaze moved to take in the nearest screen.
This morning she let Dezhda nurse her wounds and fuss a mother's due; she let her curse and wail over the brutal injuries to her child, rubbing the rosary between her fingers, begging to a false god. When the sense of loss turned to lead in Oriena's stomach, poisoning bile from her throat, her mother smoothed her hair and whispered softly.
But there was only so much talk of angels and house spirits Ori could weather.
By early afternoon she made her excuses. The club was dark and empty, even Carmen absent on whatever distractions filled her days beyond Kallisti's smoke and glamour. As such she was surprised to find Rafael of all fucking people tucked in the room upstairs with Kasun. A mildly curious gaze took in his mangled throat; it was somehow uglier than she remembered it. She didn't bother to enquire over what they were doing, though she did notice the book on her barman's lap. Rafael was far too fucking soft.
Her wolf pricked curious ears at her entrance, though there was wariness strung in his gold gaze too. As well there should be, all things given. She stood silhouetted in the doorway, hand on hip. Crooked a finger.
"Get up, we're going out."
Her ultimatum nights previous had been both brutal and plain: "You attack one of mine again, and I won't kill you Kas. I'll cut you loose in the darkest part of the underground and let the worms eat away at that tiny shred of humanity I gave you. No family. No pack. Just you and the dark."
He looked vaguely terrified at the time. She thought he might piss himself now.
Thus as the sun died in the sky, they found themselves in the embrace of the Almaz. She'd never planned to bring him back here. Not that she'd liberated him for altruistic reasons, but she didn't want him mindless. There were other places she could have taken him to run off energy, kinder places to balm what clearly amounted to a broken soul. But she'd taught harder lessons than flinging a man off a cliff to see if he would fly.
Though there was also something else she sought from tonight. Of course.
She watched him from across the table. Kas was a far cry from the dirty, matted creature she'd pulled into Kallisti's fickle care. Dark hair fell clean away from his face, jaw shaven, deep bronze skin disappearing into a crisp collar, paled by the hint of white scars. The clothes sat a little uncomfortably (and she doubted he'd kept the shoes on his feet) but he looked like a man.
Until you absorbed the gold eyes. The tremoring edge of restlessness in territory no longer his own. He listened intently. His nostrils flexed when servers passed behind him, flinching a little away like a dog abused by his master.
The pressure was designed. The distractions, the smells, the noises. The depravity.
Clearly he was aware, for he poured great concentration into simply watching her in turn.
The fabric that curled around her neck like a choke. The sweep of her shoulders bare. The hem of the deep scarlet dress obscured the cuts on her knees - though the crusted wounds on her arms were not hidden where they stretched out to clasp her hands at her knee. Legs crossed, his gaze followed the stem of her legs. Molten blades followed the wicked slash of the heels. Just decoration, of course; Almaz didn't allow weapons into its depths. At least the kind held in a hand. But it amused her all the same that security must bow to check.
His knee began to bounce.
A smile curled Ori's lips, though she said nothing. While he acclimated, her gaze moved to take in the nearest screen.