[Part I]
[Part II]
[Part III]
---
“Tell me your name and swear your loyalty to me, demon.”
Another laugh. Farorei staggered again, stumbling back from the circle a few steps.
“You can’t really expect me to pledge my service and my blood to a lesser race in exchange for just a few morsels, can you?”
Farorei’s breathing was ragged now and she was still reeling from almost losing control. Instead of responding with a biting remark as she wanted so dearly to do, she glared in silence as she collected her thoughts and her breath.
“Not just any morsels,” Her voice was low and shaky as she recovered from her previous slip up, “Pure hearts from pure men. Heavy and dripping with love and admiration and happiness. Don’t act like those aren’t in short supply. Not in this day and age.”
A low, quiet rumble that Farorei could only describe as a purr emanated from the succubus as she rolled over onto her back, making sure to twist her body as sensually as possible in the process, stretching her arms up and to her sides and putting her plentiful breasts on display. She made no effort to respond, taking advantage of the silence to showcase more of her erotic writhing and moaning. The blood elf watched unblinkingly, struggling to contain herself but succeeding nonetheless.
Enough time passed for Farorei to determine that the demon had no intention of replying, and she spoke.
“Do we have a deal?”
The succubus pulled her slender fingers, which she had been sucking on with wanton fervor, out of her mouth, “Yours first.”
Taken aback, Farorei blinked. “My what?”
“Your name.”
She blinked, having forgotten she had asked that question earlier. She took a moment to consider the consequences until she determined there weren’t any worth holding back over.
“Farorei.”
“Farorei...”
“Tell me yours.”
“Farooooooreeeeeiiiiiiii...”
“Tell me yours.”
Several long moments of more sensual writhing amidst desperate moanings of her name passed until finally the succubus asked innocently, “My what?”
Farorei’s lip twitched and she felt something inside her snap. This demon was an inexplicable mix of irresistible and infuriating, muddling her feelings and her insides, confusing her and tricking her. If she didn’t put her foot down once and for all, this was not going to end well for her. She was not about to see all that time with Sarorick wasted. She clenched her teeth and dropped to her hands and knees, glaring hatefully at the squirming succubus. When she spoke, her voice was loud and hoarse.
“You WILL tell me your name, you wretched and vile piece of demonic filth! And you will bow to my will before this day is done or so help me, I will close this circle and crush you with it!”
She seemed unconcerned with Farorei’s sudden burst of temper, but she did stop writhing and moaning.
“Glynola,” She cooed, rolling over onto her stomach and pushing up enough to press her upper half against the invisible wall separating her from the blood elf, who was still glaring at her, “Now let me out.”
“We have to make a pact first.”
Black lips puckered into a pitiful pout before pushing against the barrier in a wet kiss. Feeling overwhelmed again, Farorei had to look away, and thankfully she had her grimoire to distract her. She set to work turning to the other page she had bookmarked, Glynola watching with her nose wrinkled.
“Here it is,” She muttered to herself as she found the page, taking a moment to read over it.
“Those rituals are more like guidelines, you know...”
“Hm, I’m sure,” there was a brief sound of metal against stone as she lifted the dagger next to the grimoire, opening her left hand and slashing it without hesitation, “Put your hand up, Glynola.”’
Though the succubus eventually obeyed, it wasn’t before she flashed Farorei’s bleeding palm a hungry glance and flicked her forked tongue.
“For every heart I give you, you must let me drink my fill of your blood.”
“Why do you want it?” The demon’s question was of genuine curiosity and she kept her hand pressed against the invisible wall, even after Farorei lifted the dagger and dragged the tip across her palm. The succubus didn’t even flinch.
“That’s none of your concern right now.”
A long whine followed.
“Fine.”
The instant their bleeding hands touched was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It hurt, but locked her in place. She felt the pain course through her arm and reach deep inside her body as their spirits intertwined. She looked up despite the unpleasant sensation to see Glynola’s reaction and, though she seemed to be better at hiding her discomfort, she was clearly not having a good time of it either.
It didn’t last much longer, and as soon as the pain subsided the succubus collapsed dramatically next to Farorei, signifying the dissolving of the summoning circle’s magic. She sighed heavily and batted her eyelashes up at her new master.
“Was it good for you, too?”
---
Fin!
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
A Gift: Part III [NSFA: Violence]
[Part I]
[Part 2]
[[I took some liberties with how demon summoning works in Warcraft, as "summon demon and FITE" does not make for terribly compelling literature. I don't think this is TOO lore breaking, though.]]
---
The demon gave her a sly and disarming grin, flashing her menacing fangs as she did so. Farorei stalled, unsure of how to reply, before responding simply with her own confident smirk. The succubus dropped to all fours and moved to approach but stopped abruptly as she reached the edge of the summoning circle, as if coming in contact with an invisible wall.
“Ah, clever,” She cooed, sliding her finger down the transparent barrier, “My last one had not had so much foresight. He was delicious.”
She knew the demon was attempting to unsettle her, to scare her, to manipulate her; she had read about succubi before and she was prepared. She had no intention of being this creature’s meal.
“Then he deserved what he got.”
The succubus, seemingly intrigued by this response, slowly moved to a comfortable sitting position- or as comfortable as she could get given her long legs and the three feet of space the summoning circle allowed her. Farorei followed suit, moving to a cross legged position as she watched her carefully and spoke.
“What’s your name?”
“Why should I tell you? Names are powerful things; who knows what you could do with mine.”
“Because I summoned you. You are under my control. Tell me your name.”
She threw her head back and laughed, a dramatic gesture no doubt meant to showcase her fangs for the aspiring warlock once again.
“You don’t control me. You just have me in a cage...for now.”
“I think you will find proper incentive to obey me.”
Black lips curled into a wicked grin, “You don’t look very combat capable, Kitten.”
“I didn’t say anything about fighting. I have a proposition for you.”
Another laugh followed, a grating and haughty sound that rang sharply in her ears through the otherwise completely silent room. The succubus made no effort to respond further, instead choosing to lean against her arm and grin at Farorei as if she knew something she didn’t. A tense silence passed between them for several seconds as she watched the demon patiently, waiting for any more sarcastic remarks. When none came, she continued.
“I follow no one. I am not allied with the Horde or the Alliance, nor any cult. I don’t wish to use you to assist me in combat or to fight in the ridiculous wars Azeroth entangles itself with.”
As Farorei spoke, the demon had taken to rolling about on the ground, occasionally clutching her breasts and groaning suggestively. It seemed she wasn’t terribly interested in a thorough explanation. With a huff, the blood elf resisted the urge to reach past the boundary of the summoning circle and slap her, choosing instead to cut to the chase.
“I want your blood.”
The heavy breathing and moaning stopped abruptly, though the succubus made no effort to right herself. She continued to lay on her back, looking up at her summoner with another devilish grin.
“You can’t have that.”
“You stand to benefit from this, too. You eat hearts of pure men, do you not? They invigorate you, remind you why your wretched life is worth living?”
The demon rolled over onto her stomach, arms folded in front of her as she watched closely. Most semblance of a smirk was gone.
“Yes, I have your attention now, don’t I?” She eagerly embraced the opportunity to be the smug and condescending one for a change, “I can get you the hearts of men.”
She was nervous beyond her wit’s end at that moment, speaking so arrogantly and matter-of-factly to a demon that would gladly tear her throat out given the briefest of opportunities. But there was something about her fear that almost made this easier, as if the adrenaline rushing through her veins was pushing the words from her throat.
The succubus undoubtedly sensed her fear, however, as her intrigued expression quickly changed to one of smug satisfaction.
“Very well, then. Come inside and you may take my blood.”
Though clearly a trick, Farorei found what could only be described as a supernatural attraction to the demon tugging her forward. She had never really been attracted to a woman, but this succubus before her had a palpable aura of lust, digging into her, hooking onto her darkest desires and pulling them to the fore, manifesting in a crushing desire to touch her, to please her. Such was the fabled power of the succubus that she had read so much about. She thought she had been prepared for it, but what could have possibly prepared her for this?
Time drew to a tortuously slow crawl as turquoise eyes glanced up at her through thick, dark lashes, the force of the sultry expression bluntly impacting something deep within her chest. She swooned and staggered for a moment, lifting a hand up to her breast as if to steady her fluttering heart. She found herself moving toward the circle, her mind screaming protests while her heart carried her forward regardless.
The ensuing maniacal grin, combined with her barbed tail poising at the ready, were the only things that managed to break through the haze befalling Farorei; and just in time, it seemed. When she finally regained control of herself, she was but mere millimeters away from crossing into the circle.
The succubus hissed in protest, but it soon fed into a laugh.
“You’re no fool, are you? Pity.”
[Part 2]
[[I took some liberties with how demon summoning works in Warcraft, as "summon demon and FITE" does not make for terribly compelling literature. I don't think this is TOO lore breaking, though.]]
---
The demon gave her a sly and disarming grin, flashing her menacing fangs as she did so. Farorei stalled, unsure of how to reply, before responding simply with her own confident smirk. The succubus dropped to all fours and moved to approach but stopped abruptly as she reached the edge of the summoning circle, as if coming in contact with an invisible wall.
“Ah, clever,” She cooed, sliding her finger down the transparent barrier, “My last one had not had so much foresight. He was delicious.”
She knew the demon was attempting to unsettle her, to scare her, to manipulate her; she had read about succubi before and she was prepared. She had no intention of being this creature’s meal.
“Then he deserved what he got.”
The succubus, seemingly intrigued by this response, slowly moved to a comfortable sitting position- or as comfortable as she could get given her long legs and the three feet of space the summoning circle allowed her. Farorei followed suit, moving to a cross legged position as she watched her carefully and spoke.
“What’s your name?”
“Why should I tell you? Names are powerful things; who knows what you could do with mine.”
“Because I summoned you. You are under my control. Tell me your name.”
She threw her head back and laughed, a dramatic gesture no doubt meant to showcase her fangs for the aspiring warlock once again.
“You don’t control me. You just have me in a cage...for now.”
“I think you will find proper incentive to obey me.”
Black lips curled into a wicked grin, “You don’t look very combat capable, Kitten.”
“I didn’t say anything about fighting. I have a proposition for you.”
Another laugh followed, a grating and haughty sound that rang sharply in her ears through the otherwise completely silent room. The succubus made no effort to respond further, instead choosing to lean against her arm and grin at Farorei as if she knew something she didn’t. A tense silence passed between them for several seconds as she watched the demon patiently, waiting for any more sarcastic remarks. When none came, she continued.
“I follow no one. I am not allied with the Horde or the Alliance, nor any cult. I don’t wish to use you to assist me in combat or to fight in the ridiculous wars Azeroth entangles itself with.”
As Farorei spoke, the demon had taken to rolling about on the ground, occasionally clutching her breasts and groaning suggestively. It seemed she wasn’t terribly interested in a thorough explanation. With a huff, the blood elf resisted the urge to reach past the boundary of the summoning circle and slap her, choosing instead to cut to the chase.
“I want your blood.”
The heavy breathing and moaning stopped abruptly, though the succubus made no effort to right herself. She continued to lay on her back, looking up at her summoner with another devilish grin.
“You can’t have that.”
“You stand to benefit from this, too. You eat hearts of pure men, do you not? They invigorate you, remind you why your wretched life is worth living?”
The demon rolled over onto her stomach, arms folded in front of her as she watched closely. Most semblance of a smirk was gone.
“Yes, I have your attention now, don’t I?” She eagerly embraced the opportunity to be the smug and condescending one for a change, “I can get you the hearts of men.”
She was nervous beyond her wit’s end at that moment, speaking so arrogantly and matter-of-factly to a demon that would gladly tear her throat out given the briefest of opportunities. But there was something about her fear that almost made this easier, as if the adrenaline rushing through her veins was pushing the words from her throat.
The succubus undoubtedly sensed her fear, however, as her intrigued expression quickly changed to one of smug satisfaction.
“Very well, then. Come inside and you may take my blood.”
Though clearly a trick, Farorei found what could only be described as a supernatural attraction to the demon tugging her forward. She had never really been attracted to a woman, but this succubus before her had a palpable aura of lust, digging into her, hooking onto her darkest desires and pulling them to the fore, manifesting in a crushing desire to touch her, to please her. Such was the fabled power of the succubus that she had read so much about. She thought she had been prepared for it, but what could have possibly prepared her for this?
Time drew to a tortuously slow crawl as turquoise eyes glanced up at her through thick, dark lashes, the force of the sultry expression bluntly impacting something deep within her chest. She swooned and staggered for a moment, lifting a hand up to her breast as if to steady her fluttering heart. She found herself moving toward the circle, her mind screaming protests while her heart carried her forward regardless.
The ensuing maniacal grin, combined with her barbed tail poising at the ready, were the only things that managed to break through the haze befalling Farorei; and just in time, it seemed. When she finally regained control of herself, she was but mere millimeters away from crossing into the circle.
The succubus hissed in protest, but it soon fed into a laugh.
“You’re no fool, are you? Pity.”
A Gift: Part II [NSFA: Violence]
[Part I]
---
The cellar of the Suncaller estate was just as grand as the rest of the elegant home, its walled lined with racks full of the finest wines and its floors a polished marble kept clean as if it were used just as often as the entrance hall. With no windows and only one door leading out, it was the ideal location for Farorei’s purposes.
Before Sarorick’s return home, she had seen to it that the immaculate marble floor was no longer quite so immaculate by etching a crude summoning circle into the stone. It wasn’t quite as perfect as the one illustrated in her texts, but she hoped it would serve its purpose nonetheless. It would have been a shame to murder a man so pure of heart as her late husband only to find her efforts wasted.
With his warm heart in hand she descended the steps into the cellar, which was now completely dark save for a few lit candles scattered around the outside of the circle. She had spent years preparing for this moment, but even so she felt her hands began to tremble and her legs slow in protest as she neared the unholy etchings in the middle of the floor. Though thoroughly convinced she could handle what was about to transpire, there was something so profoundly unholy about all of this that she couldn’t help but wither a bit at the thought of it.
Her body, it seemed, had begun to move of its own accord, carrying her to a kneeling position before the circle while her thoughts and her heart were busy racing, swirling between exhilaration, doubt, and fear. Once there, it paused long enough for her to collect her thoughts and to steel her resolve. She knelt there in silence for what seemed like hours, the sound of her own breath and heartbeat heavy and loud in her ears. Once she had managed to slow her breathing, the looked down to the grimoire of summoning at her left, which she had opened to the appropriate page before dinner in preparation.
As she looked at the gruesome illustrations and demonic text, pangs of doubt tugged her conscience in one direction while the rapidly cooling organ in her right hand tugged it the other way. If she was going to do this, she needed to do it. And damn it all, she was going to. Quickly and abruptly, she leaned forward to place the heart in the center of the summoning circle, then leaned back and began to read the text from the book aloud. It was a long chant, but she had studied the Demonic language well and it gave her little trouble. She found as she continued to read her confidence grew, and with each beat of her heart the runes etched into the floor before her began to pulse faintly, a deep crimson not unlike the blood pooling beneath the organ sitting atop them.
Finally,after what seemed like an eternity, the chant was done. The summoning circle glowed so brightly now that she almost had to cover her eyes, and then in the blink of an eye the light was extinguished, as well as all of the surrounding candles. Enveloped in the utter darkness of the cellar Farorei sat perfectly still, listening to her breathing, not even bothering to wet her dry mouth and throat. She waited and waited and waited and nothing came, and just when she was about to give up hope that the ritual had succeeded, she heard it.
At first, it was just breathing. Not her own, but something else. It was faint but unmistakable; quiet, short breaths two feet at most in front of her. Then came the tapping sound, slow and measured, a sound that she could only conclude was the clopping of two small hooves. It continued for a while, seemingly circling the heart and clearly in no hurry. When it finally stopped a few moments of silence passed before the grotesque sound of tearing flesh filled Farorei’s ears. Fortunately for her, at this point she was more or less numb to the revulsion it would have caused anyone else. She continued to listen quietly, careful to not make any noises, to the increasingly frenzied tearing and chewing sounds until finally they stopped.
The alien breathing was louder then; heavier, labored gasps that sounded more akin to someone in the throes of passion than someone angry or excited. As that sound subsided, she felt the lead in her limbs dissolve and slowly moved over to light a single candle, both excited and terrified to see the creature before her, the creature that she had summoned. As soon as the small flame flooded the immediate area with dim light, the demon whirled around to face her, squatting in order to get a better look.
There was no hideously deformed face with monstrous fangs and dipping pustules as one would have expected from a demon, but rather the face of a beautiful woman crowned with a pair of curved horns and framed by a head of thick black hair, a sight that caused Farorei to recoil a bit. She had intended to summon a succubus, yes, and had thought she knew what to expect, but she hadn’t anticipated her looking so perfect, so pristine, so bewitching. She felt a surge of emotion within herself, as if she were a mother looking at her beautiful child for the first time. Her breath hitched in her throat and she briefly lost her balance, having to reach behind to catch her weight with her hands.
“What’s this?” The succubus asked, her voice pleasant, smooth, melodic, and not entirely unlike Farorei’s, “Another mortal who thought to play with Shadow?”
---
The cellar of the Suncaller estate was just as grand as the rest of the elegant home, its walled lined with racks full of the finest wines and its floors a polished marble kept clean as if it were used just as often as the entrance hall. With no windows and only one door leading out, it was the ideal location for Farorei’s purposes.
Before Sarorick’s return home, she had seen to it that the immaculate marble floor was no longer quite so immaculate by etching a crude summoning circle into the stone. It wasn’t quite as perfect as the one illustrated in her texts, but she hoped it would serve its purpose nonetheless. It would have been a shame to murder a man so pure of heart as her late husband only to find her efforts wasted.
With his warm heart in hand she descended the steps into the cellar, which was now completely dark save for a few lit candles scattered around the outside of the circle. She had spent years preparing for this moment, but even so she felt her hands began to tremble and her legs slow in protest as she neared the unholy etchings in the middle of the floor. Though thoroughly convinced she could handle what was about to transpire, there was something so profoundly unholy about all of this that she couldn’t help but wither a bit at the thought of it.
Her body, it seemed, had begun to move of its own accord, carrying her to a kneeling position before the circle while her thoughts and her heart were busy racing, swirling between exhilaration, doubt, and fear. Once there, it paused long enough for her to collect her thoughts and to steel her resolve. She knelt there in silence for what seemed like hours, the sound of her own breath and heartbeat heavy and loud in her ears. Once she had managed to slow her breathing, the looked down to the grimoire of summoning at her left, which she had opened to the appropriate page before dinner in preparation.
As she looked at the gruesome illustrations and demonic text, pangs of doubt tugged her conscience in one direction while the rapidly cooling organ in her right hand tugged it the other way. If she was going to do this, she needed to do it. And damn it all, she was going to. Quickly and abruptly, she leaned forward to place the heart in the center of the summoning circle, then leaned back and began to read the text from the book aloud. It was a long chant, but she had studied the Demonic language well and it gave her little trouble. She found as she continued to read her confidence grew, and with each beat of her heart the runes etched into the floor before her began to pulse faintly, a deep crimson not unlike the blood pooling beneath the organ sitting atop them.
Finally,after what seemed like an eternity, the chant was done. The summoning circle glowed so brightly now that she almost had to cover her eyes, and then in the blink of an eye the light was extinguished, as well as all of the surrounding candles. Enveloped in the utter darkness of the cellar Farorei sat perfectly still, listening to her breathing, not even bothering to wet her dry mouth and throat. She waited and waited and waited and nothing came, and just when she was about to give up hope that the ritual had succeeded, she heard it.
At first, it was just breathing. Not her own, but something else. It was faint but unmistakable; quiet, short breaths two feet at most in front of her. Then came the tapping sound, slow and measured, a sound that she could only conclude was the clopping of two small hooves. It continued for a while, seemingly circling the heart and clearly in no hurry. When it finally stopped a few moments of silence passed before the grotesque sound of tearing flesh filled Farorei’s ears. Fortunately for her, at this point she was more or less numb to the revulsion it would have caused anyone else. She continued to listen quietly, careful to not make any noises, to the increasingly frenzied tearing and chewing sounds until finally they stopped.
The alien breathing was louder then; heavier, labored gasps that sounded more akin to someone in the throes of passion than someone angry or excited. As that sound subsided, she felt the lead in her limbs dissolve and slowly moved over to light a single candle, both excited and terrified to see the creature before her, the creature that she had summoned. As soon as the small flame flooded the immediate area with dim light, the demon whirled around to face her, squatting in order to get a better look.
There was no hideously deformed face with monstrous fangs and dipping pustules as one would have expected from a demon, but rather the face of a beautiful woman crowned with a pair of curved horns and framed by a head of thick black hair, a sight that caused Farorei to recoil a bit. She had intended to summon a succubus, yes, and had thought she knew what to expect, but she hadn’t anticipated her looking so perfect, so pristine, so bewitching. She felt a surge of emotion within herself, as if she were a mother looking at her beautiful child for the first time. Her breath hitched in her throat and she briefly lost her balance, having to reach behind to catch her weight with her hands.
“What’s this?” The succubus asked, her voice pleasant, smooth, melodic, and not entirely unlike Farorei’s, “Another mortal who thought to play with Shadow?”
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
A Gift: Part I [NSFA: Violence]
“Farorei, what is the meaning of this?”
Despite his stern words, Sarorick Suncaller’s tone was anything but serious. He had been situated at a neatly made table by his wife (who was being very secretive today) and she had since vanished into their kitchen. Several minutes had passed with him sitting in silence and waiting for her return, and finally as he called out for her she sauntered into the dining room as if on cue.
“I’m sorry, Darling,” She cooed, sweeping around behind him and giving his jaw a delicate stroke, “I’ll be just a few more minutes.”
With a laugh to distract himself from his own blush, he watched her as she made her way into the kitchen again, humming a merry tune.
“What’s going on, then? Can’t you give me a hint?”
She called out a sing-song “no” to him from the other room and he relaxed back in his seat, another hearty chuckle escaping his lips. He hadn’t the slightest idea what she was up to, but he could only predict that it was going to make his day. So lucky he was to have such a wonderful wife.
It wasn’t long before she appeared from the kitchen once more, this time holding a large silver serving platter topped with a roast boar that looked and smelled so delicious Sarorick couldn’t help but salivate.
“Farorei, you’ve outdone yourself.” He laughed and smiled up at her, and she returned the look with a fond gaze of her own.
“I’m not done yet.”
Then back into the kitchen she went, only to come out several moments later with a bottle of wine in hand; one of the finest from their cellar, and their cellar had quite the extensive (and expensive) selection of wine. A crystal glass was set down before Sarorick as she carefully poured the dark red liquid into it, tilting her head a bit so as to give him another warm smile followed by a gentle peck on the lips.
“You’re too good.”
She laughed quietly at the compliment, stopped short as he placed a hand on the back of her head in order to pull her in for another kiss. This one lasted longer, keeping her distracted long enough to let a bit of the wine spill over the lip of his glass and onto the table. She squeaked in surprised and pulled back. Sarorick laughed.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up in a bit.”
“But it will stain the-”
“Please, I want to enjoy this moment with you.”
They shared a silent smile for a moment before Farorei leaned in, eyes closed, to plant a kiss on his forehead. Afterwards, she circled round behind him and began to rub his neck and shoulders, her fingertips delicately tracing patterns along his jaw every now and then.
“I suppose it’s too much to ask that you sit down and help me eat this incredible meal?”
“Yes, it is. I cooked it for you, not for me.”
He chuckled and shook his head, leaning forward a bit in order to pull a few chunks of the juicy and succulent meat from the boar’s flank onto his plate. Several silent moments passed; Sarorick enjoying his meal, Farorei gently massaging his shoulders. After a while, he relaxed back into his seat and let out a great, content sigh, head falling back against his wife’s abdomen with his eyes closed.
“Are you happy?” She asked quietly, smiling as she traced her nails across his jaw.
“So happy.”
“Do you love me?” Her fingertips glided down his throat and over his clavicle. He sighed happily.
“So much that I fear my heart might burst out of my chest.”
“Oh?” She cooed, her hand reaching down to play with the collar of his tunic, “That would save me a great deal of trouble.”
Sarorick barely had a chance to take in her words before the sickening sound of metal piercing flesh reached his ears, and moments afterwards the feeling of an unbearable, burning, heavy agony reached his brain. With eyes wide he looked down to his chest to find a dagger buried just to the right of his heart, the hand wrapped around the hilt the same one that had been so lovingly caressing him only moments before. She had just missed his heart, but as she began to saw a circle around it he suspected that was the idea. But...why?
“Do you still love me?” Her voice maintained the same pleasant tone as before, her lips still curled into a sweet smile as she carved away at his chest. He was numb to the pain now, feeling only horror and confusion as his mouth gaped and he sputtered up at his wife, blood pouring liberally from both his wound and his lips.
“Of course you do.”
Despite his stern words, Sarorick Suncaller’s tone was anything but serious. He had been situated at a neatly made table by his wife (who was being very secretive today) and she had since vanished into their kitchen. Several minutes had passed with him sitting in silence and waiting for her return, and finally as he called out for her she sauntered into the dining room as if on cue.
“I’m sorry, Darling,” She cooed, sweeping around behind him and giving his jaw a delicate stroke, “I’ll be just a few more minutes.”
With a laugh to distract himself from his own blush, he watched her as she made her way into the kitchen again, humming a merry tune.
“What’s going on, then? Can’t you give me a hint?”
She called out a sing-song “no” to him from the other room and he relaxed back in his seat, another hearty chuckle escaping his lips. He hadn’t the slightest idea what she was up to, but he could only predict that it was going to make his day. So lucky he was to have such a wonderful wife.
It wasn’t long before she appeared from the kitchen once more, this time holding a large silver serving platter topped with a roast boar that looked and smelled so delicious Sarorick couldn’t help but salivate.
“Farorei, you’ve outdone yourself.” He laughed and smiled up at her, and she returned the look with a fond gaze of her own.
“I’m not done yet.”
Then back into the kitchen she went, only to come out several moments later with a bottle of wine in hand; one of the finest from their cellar, and their cellar had quite the extensive (and expensive) selection of wine. A crystal glass was set down before Sarorick as she carefully poured the dark red liquid into it, tilting her head a bit so as to give him another warm smile followed by a gentle peck on the lips.
“You’re too good.”
She laughed quietly at the compliment, stopped short as he placed a hand on the back of her head in order to pull her in for another kiss. This one lasted longer, keeping her distracted long enough to let a bit of the wine spill over the lip of his glass and onto the table. She squeaked in surprised and pulled back. Sarorick laughed.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up in a bit.”
“But it will stain the-”
“Please, I want to enjoy this moment with you.”
They shared a silent smile for a moment before Farorei leaned in, eyes closed, to plant a kiss on his forehead. Afterwards, she circled round behind him and began to rub his neck and shoulders, her fingertips delicately tracing patterns along his jaw every now and then.
“I suppose it’s too much to ask that you sit down and help me eat this incredible meal?”
“Yes, it is. I cooked it for you, not for me.”
He chuckled and shook his head, leaning forward a bit in order to pull a few chunks of the juicy and succulent meat from the boar’s flank onto his plate. Several silent moments passed; Sarorick enjoying his meal, Farorei gently massaging his shoulders. After a while, he relaxed back into his seat and let out a great, content sigh, head falling back against his wife’s abdomen with his eyes closed.
“Are you happy?” She asked quietly, smiling as she traced her nails across his jaw.
“So happy.”
“Do you love me?” Her fingertips glided down his throat and over his clavicle. He sighed happily.
“So much that I fear my heart might burst out of my chest.”
“Oh?” She cooed, her hand reaching down to play with the collar of his tunic, “That would save me a great deal of trouble.”
Sarorick barely had a chance to take in her words before the sickening sound of metal piercing flesh reached his ears, and moments afterwards the feeling of an unbearable, burning, heavy agony reached his brain. With eyes wide he looked down to his chest to find a dagger buried just to the right of his heart, the hand wrapped around the hilt the same one that had been so lovingly caressing him only moments before. She had just missed his heart, but as she began to saw a circle around it he suspected that was the idea. But...why?
“Do you still love me?” Her voice maintained the same pleasant tone as before, her lips still curled into a sweet smile as she carved away at his chest. He was numb to the pain now, feeling only horror and confusion as his mouth gaped and he sputtered up at his wife, blood pouring liberally from both his wound and his lips.
“Of course you do.”
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
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