Like a caged lupinna, the Immortal Lord paces, his apartment decreasing with every step. He feels the maids exit the shared apartments and walks over to pull on a long silver and black silk cord.
A soft tap, tap on his door, intones immediately.
"Enter."
"You rang my Lord?"
"I am not to be disturbed for the remainder of the night. No one is to enter these apartments unless instructed to do so. Understand?"
"Yes, my Lord. If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave."
As soon as his servant leaves, he walks to the connecting door and leans against it. Desolation's heart is steady and alert; it would not be for very long. Earlier that evening, he had instructed Mistress Byrne to pour wine into the Sleeping Cup and present it to Desolation.
The head maid lifted an eyebrow in question. Deep curiosity shadowed her eyes. Knowing better, she did as he demanded.
Desolation's heart falls to the slow tattoo of slumber. He glides like inky smoke into the bathing room.
Being a creature of the night, his eyes can trace every intricate detail along the walls. Desolation reclined at the far end of the pool, hair swirling about her like an angry cloud; beside the cloud sat the Sleeping Cup.
He slowly walks around the edge, listening for the telltale rising of her heart. It remains steady, deep, and sure.
He kneels and studies her face, specifically the marques. They explained the mist of power, and never in his centuries of life has he seen the like. Yes, he has seen beings ink themselves with marques, but the body can only handle a certain amount. It depends on the bearer the amount they can possess.
This woman, whoever, whatever she is, is a walking grimoire.
He stares a moment longer, then hardens his heart.
Taking the back of Desolation's neck, he plunges it beneath the water. Her heart struggles where her body does not; frantically fluttering like a caged Mo'ki.
Like a fist squeezing from the inside, his heart contracts, and for a few flickers, his muscles are immobilized. Without his wings, he takes the full effect of Desolation's death. He staggers for a moment, almost toppling into the pool, but at the last moment, he shifts his weight enough to grasp the handrail instead.
After a few shaking, burning breaths, the Immortal Lord stands and waits. Sixty flickers pass. Then ice pricks along his skin, expanding out and enveloping the room like winter taking a deep breath. The power and ice shrink and shoot straight into Desolation.
Two heartbeats; her head springs out of the water, and she gasps for air, coughing and sputtering.
Three heartbeats more; she whips the hair back from her face and turns to face him.
"You have killed me twice in one day. Once on accident and then on purpose."
The Immortal Lord stilled; the woman who stands before him is not Desolation. Her voice commands power as her body commands attention.
She mounts the steps and walks forward. Water cascades down her marqued skin and gives not a care she is unclothed.
The Immortal Lord's eyes escape his control. His mind screams he shouldn't be staring, but his eyes have other motives, but those motives weren't because she is nude.
From crown to toes, she is enveloped in marquings and intricate glyphs. Outside the marquings are bolder lines and after a few flickers his mind pieces together images. There is an owl on her left hip. A snake curls around her right breast and travels over her shoulder to hide in her hair.
"I wonder," she says, "can you regenerate your eyes?"
"I wouldn't know; I've never lost them."
"Shall we find out?"
"Not tonight."
"Why not? You've killed me, twice I might add. Am I not allowed a bit of fun? What did I do to you to incur such wrath? You demanded my village for a bride. So here I am."
"Who are you?" he whispers.
"Oh, dear! You just lost your chance to explain yourself. You want to know who I am?"
Suddenly, she's in front of him. Her hand strikes out and latches to his throat and brings his face so close they share the same breath.
"You want to know who I am?" she breathes, lips feathering against his.
"Yes," he breaths back, lips tingling from the contact.
A wave of darkness and ice pierces through him. The world spirals. He careens across the room like wet hose and smashes his head against the wall. The sound bounces off surfaces and strikes him like hammers.
The room swims, and with a slight pull of his Will, he clears his head.
"I am Destruction," she thunders, "I am the colder, more violent part of Desolation's nature. I am the part forced to be hidden by the spell on our skin. It is the spell keeping us apart. She sees me as her hidden power, a part separate from herself, a part she can only use when she dies at someone else's hand. I didn't emerge before because the first time was an accident. You felt the pull of death, and your power protected you. But this time, I'm going to play."
Fire and thorns sear his skin and drag him into the pool. He slams to the bottom, and the impact forces his breath to escape in large odd-shaped bubbles.
He fights against the spell but it's long and one he has never seen before. He'd drown long before he solved it.
How can anyone have time to cast so many marques? It's impossible. Even he cannot cast so many marques and so fast. What is this woman?
For a few flickers, the sensation of drowning overcomes all logic and he panics. His arms flail, and his legs spasm; it takes five flickers more before logic is slapped, wakes up, and takes over.
He is the Immortal Lord, for Dyu's sake. He cannot die.
Instead, he ceases his struggle and simply rests at the bottom of the pool
After a few more moments, Destruction's power ebbs and releases him. He floats lazily to the top.
Shakily, he stands and walks towards the stairs; his heavy, waterlogged clothes impede his movements. He reaches the handrail, grasps it, and bends over purging water from his lungs and nose. His throat burns from the onslaught.
"Not very pleasant huh? Coughing up water, the sensation of drowning; it's soo very sad you are truly immortal, how boring. I held you under for such a long time, and you struggled so beautifully. I thought you were akin to me; you would die and come back. If you'd at least died, I would have been satisfied. You know how to spoil the fun. No matter, maybe I'll play with one of your pretty maids."
"Stop!" he croaks. Desolation had damaged his throat when she tossed him. "They did nothing wrong. They are innocent. They've done nothing."
"I do not recall ever doing anything to you before you killed me, twice. I would think you hardly cared for innocent lives."
"You are indeed correct. I am in the fault. I beg your forgiveness but I had to know."
She quizzically raises an eyebrow, "Had to know? Please do elaborate."
"If you truly died the first time. I had to know if my senses were failing me."
Destruction, as she calls herself, examines her hands with feint interest.
"I would assume asking is not part of your nature. Even Desolation asks questions when truly piqued."
"I would not have thought you'd answer or you did not know. It's not as if you die every day."
Destruction scoffs. "Oh, you'd be surprised. Yet you are right. Desolation would not speak on the matter but her actions always speak louder than her words. You may have noticed. Me on the other hand," she lowers her right hand and raises the left, " I'll tell you anything you want to know. I know everything she does, plenty she does not, and all of what she doesn't remember. I am the part of Desolation which wants to be noticed. I am her confident, violent, and sensual side. I am every little thing Desolation is forced to tuck into the back of her soul and it slips into my half. All I know, is the curse on our skin split our power in two; it split us into two."
The Immortal Lord lifts his eyes to her. There is no pull, no sensation of death.
She calmly stares back, long hair still pasted against her back. She stands with her arms crossed casually, completely comfortable in her marqued skin.
His eyes take control again as if they cannot help but try to decipher the complex spell.
"You are staring. You think this body beautiful, do you not?"
Thinking the question is a trick, he doesn't answer.
"Well?" she snaps.
"Yes," he whispers.
"Good. You should. I am beautiful. I am long and perfectly shaped. I am strong from all my hard labor. Even the marquings on my skin are delicate and exquisite. Furthermore, I am powerful, so powerful someone sought to keep my power contained within this body and split us into two."
She steps into the water towards him. He eyes her like she's an enkas about to strike. She places a hand under his chin and turns his face, examining various angles.
He feels like a Dragorse being scrutinized for auction.
"Hmmm. You are not bad looking, very fine features."
He moves back a step lest she decides to attack.
"Relax Lord Jerrath, my anger is spent. It is a waste trying to kill you and I would never think to vent my anger on innocents. I am not without morals. I only kill people who hurt Desolation, as you have." She wraps her arms around his neck and whispers, "You should be thanking me."
"Why's that?" he asks, all the while attempting to make his voice neutral. Neutrality is hard-earned. Even harder to ignore the beautiful, naked woman pressed up in all the right places. His body is about to forfeit.
"Because," she whispers in his ear, "What she see's, I see, and it goes both ways, though mine is more limited. I can only show her in dreams. I'll make sure she dreams about you for a very long time. It's going to be very amusing when gathers the courage to glimpse you for the first time."
Her lips ghost across his ear and says, "I'll let her know you like our hands."
Then she untangles herself from him, places a long, slender hand over her mouth, and yawns.
"Well, I am tired. I am going back to sleep. I suggest you leave or your going to have one Dyu damned time explaining why you are in the pool with her and I am sure you know Desolation feels about being seen."
Destruction walks to the reclining chair and leans back closing her eyes.
"Wait!"
Opening one eye, she asks, "Something else?"
"If I help you with your curse, will you help me with mine?"
"What makes you think I'll be of any use?"
He gestures to her body.
"Fair enough. I suppose it depends on how useful you turn out to be," she states closing her eyes.
Thinking she is finished, he turns to leave.
"Oh and if you ever hurt Desolation again, I'll slaughter everyone in your castle and boil their children in their blood while you watch."
"Understood."
Knowing the conversation is over, the Immortal Lord walks towards his rooms and can't help but wonder how she knew he liked their hands.