Connections, Money and Secrets [Almaz]

[Oriena]

Ori revelled in the forced obscenity, but not in the revelation of truth he pressed to her palm. Bold to assume she wouldn’t simply crush her grip; it was a small shift from harlot to harpy afterall. But the thunder was rolling tight through her head, and if it wasn’t the nerve he might presume he’d stepped on, it was a nerve all the same. The pressure clawed and swelled in her skull, hunting out the weakness they always fucking told her she possessed. The visits were always like that now. Seeking an entrance denied.

[We are hungry, Lady of Sorrow]

[Let us in]

So when she retreated, it was into sour silence and possession of the stolen joint to smooth the edge. Mikhail’s grin and roaming gaze did not suggest he minded the theft in the slightest, but she dismissed him in the same moment he dismissed her in turn. Words smeared like mud around her, overlaid with the whisper of more in the recesses of her mind. On the barstool she ignored them both, warring with the inner dissonance ravaging from the inside out. Self-control was not natural for her. In a blink she caught a glimpse of desert sun and the shadow of another retreat. The memory wasn’t hers but it might as well have been.

Meanwhile Jaxen leaned around her for the drink, twittering on with that careless grin, eyes alight with the game implied, but he was not the only one clamouring for her attention. 

[This is how it ends. This is how it ALWAYS ends]. 

The ijiraq's promise settled like a vise, utterly undenied. The pain spiralled was familiar, ancient, and Ori rejected it on stubborn principle. She barely heard what Jaxen said. Sneers, snarls, and seductions overlapped like ocean waves.

[No one cares you were hurt]

[No one ever cares]

[Fulfil your oath to us, and we will burn the world for you]

[Make them suffer for every wrong ever done to you, Mother of Strife]

Yet Ori only blew smoke in Jaxen’s grinning face as he pranced away with Mikhail in tow. She wanted them both to fuck off, but she was utterly hateful that they did.

Prey’s absence did nothing to ease the ijiraq’s grip, though it grew dimmer when their attention diverted. Drown herself in enough vodka, and whatever chink of insecurity that allowed the creatures to sharpen their teeth on her soul would be likewise muted. Temporary measures of course. The link forged at the ball only strengthened over time, and she caught snippets, sometimes, of the buzzing drone of their conversation amongst themselves.

Her gaze lifted to the shadows above, but there was nothing there.

“Oriena?”

Her gaze was slow to refocus. Slower to taste the blood as she brought the smoke to her lips. She hadn’t felt the trickle from her nose. She glanced at the dab of glistening red on her fingers only a moment before she swiped with the back of her hand. A grim smirk met Arisha’s blunt inquiry, which seemed more wary than concerned. A little blood was hardly cause for fuss at Almaz. “Guess I’ll take a bottle, sweetheart.”