Pain!
Sharp pain tears through my insides like I have swallowed a bucket of glass and cin'rifesnat. It snaps me out of my slumber faster than a plunge in Chimera's winter waters.
For several breaths, I curl on my right side waiting for the gut-wrenching pain to subside.
Once it does, my stomach gives a very unladylike growl announcing hunger, and even without a soul to hear the lupinna-like growl, I blush all the same.
When was the last time I've eaten decent food? If I recall, it was the first night I slept at the manor in the swimming pool. I consumed enough wine to make a full-grown man pass out twice a night.
During the three nights, I lay in dreamless slumber, only the Immortal Lord would know if I'd consumed any type of nourishment. If the adamant protesting of my stomach is any indication, I'd not ingested anything substantial in many candles.
I sit and slightly sway as blood rushes from my head. Now I understand the expression dying from hunger.
I've never died from hunger, the process is too long and drawn out to ever commit. An impaling or poison is certainly preferable to long, slow, and arduous. And, of course, every being wants to die in peaceful slumber; most mortals do not have a choice in their death and most do not have a choice on how they want to live. I certainly would not be in this predicament if given a fair choice.
I sigh and swing my feet from underneath the covers. A time candle simmers softly, the flame flickering like the tail of content feelina. I squint in vain attempt to read the time but it's too far. I toss the remaining covers aside and notice I am wearing the long, sleeveless scarlet dress but the matching hood is nowhere in sight.
Senseless anger surges but I quickly reign it, remembering what happened to the Immortal Lord when uncontrolled anger became a'rifediwl. Next time, I may kill an innocent and I have enough blood to last the rest of my immortal life. If I cannot die, will I continue aging and aging until I am just leather skin on bones? Or shall I stop and remain as I am now? I've pondered this many times and do not relish the fact I can live for eternity.
The anger I recognize stems from the long moons turn of isolation. The beings in this manor are dancing to the Immortal Lord's flute and hold not the superstitions of the village and the thought of the Immortal Lord sends my mind to recount the events this earlier night and an intangible thought gently claws the back of my mind, waiting like a whisper to be spoken. I rub the back of my head as though it would cause the thought to surface.
For the assault on his person, I offered my blood freely. I remember grabbing the gold knife and slicing my wrist causing the Immortal Lord to strike like a perenkas and bite. With each swallow, the sensation pulls warmth at parts I'm embarrassed to think of for long. It turns my stomach simultaneously ice and fire.
Feeling of fang in flesh was not unpleasant; while most would call it painful, pain and I have become bosom companions long ago. After experiencing countless, excruciating deaths; death accepts me as an equal, we shook hands and live merrily side by side.
Now certain pain associated with dying is more on the pleasurable side. Mayhaps too much bad can be good after all. A being repeatedly bitten by a poisonous snake will eventually grow immune.
However, not all pain is pleasurable, especially hunger pains which have redoubled its protest.
"Dyu's you are grumbling like no one has fed you in several moons' turn."
It responds with a pathetic gurgle.
"Well, let's see if we can find some food. No better candle to explore, since the rest of the manor is asleep. By the blasted Five! I'm talking to my stomach." A sure sign insanity is slowly worming its way into my mind.
I search for my accustomed cloak and veil, but to no avail. At the edge of the bed, I find the matching veil. It chimes softly when I pick it up and place it over my eyes. My everything chime, feet, hands, dress, and head. Perhaps they dress me this way to keep track of me or maybe the Immortal Lord's bride dresses in this manner. The ceaseless chiming begins to aggravate me but my stomach gives another massive growl reminding me it cares not for what I wear only what I put inside it.
Without another thought, I step out of my room and for the first time into the hallway in search of anything edible.
The Immortal Lord
Feeling refreshed, the Immortal Lord walks towards the manor with a spring in his step and spirit soaring higher than a Moki rising to greet Ryun. As he steps across the thresh hold, the bond relates that Desolation is awake and wandering, he wonders if Desolation can feel their shared connection or if it's like a river and flows one way. He follows the bond which is an invisible string connecting their Will and it does not take many flickers to find her. When he steps into the same room, her thoughts strike like a thunderbolt causing his hair to rise and his spine to straighten.
The room is ebony dark but he needs no light to see. Desolation sits on a low black and gold striped settee with large pillows and a high arched back. Her elbows are propped on her knees with her palms supporting her chin. She's wearing the same attire she had earlier this night and looks just as enticing.
Oh, Dyus I knew I shouldn't have left the room but I am just so hungry. Now I am lost. I am so sorry stomach, I have failed you, feel free to kill me at your leisure.
In response, her stomach gives a rumble that would make the Dyus jealous. He can almost feel the vibrations beneath his feet. He would have laughed if he'd not been overcome with guilt.
Whose fault is it she hasn't eaten a decent meal in nights? Had he remembered he'd told the maids to leave a plate of fruits, nuts, and cheese. What could he say? He is a completely selfish man and his selfishness caused his curse of Immortality.
I am so tired. Why did I act so foolishly and give my blood to the Immortal Lord? He could have taken too much and killed me. I am surprised I haven't died from the lack of food. Does this mean I have to feed him my blood all the time?
I wonder if this is how the other brides died. Did he drink them to death? If he drinks me dry, I won't be able to hide my power.
Mmmmmm, the bite wasn't too bad though. There is a loud gasp accompanied by rushed tintinnabulation.
What in the blasted Five was that? That felt entirely too pleasurable. Stop thinking about those places. Best not to touch the bite again or else I might not be able to stop. Oh! What do I do? I don't even know how to get back, I keep going around in circles. Mayhap I should stay put until someone finds me.
The bite does affect her as it affects me, he muses, more physically than mentally it would seem. I suppose I should make my presence known.
He clears his throat and says, "Desolation."
There's a sharp scream and like an overfilled basin her thoughts spill into his mind causing him to stumble with the onslaught.
Oh, why Dyus does is the Immortal Lord the one to find me? How am I to face him? It's just too humiliating!
Anger spikes up the spine.
She finds me humiliating, does she?
Before he can utter an angry retort, Desolation blurts, "M-m-m-my L-L-Lord I am h-hungry."
Ahhhhhhh, where did that come from? I had no idea my stomach can control my mouth! Stupid stutter! I was speaking just fine when I decided to cut myself. Oh, do not think about it Desolation, do not go there, because you are going to think about his mouth and the delicious feeling of his fangs.
Stop!
Stop!
STOP!
You need food. Yes, think of food.
His anger dissipates like the wind extinguishing a flame and is replaced with stomach-tingling amusement.
"If you are hungry, I can show you where the kitchens are. I am sure the cooks have something we can eat."
We? Can he even eat people food? I thought people were his food.
"If not, then I will show you back to the apartments."
I'll be with him either way.
"Th-that's is v-v-very k-kind of y-you. I wo-would l-l-l-like a b-b-bite." Oh, Dyu's be damned, why did I have to word it that way? Don't think about it Desolation, you're just a food source. Yes, yes, food!
"I'm going to conjure a light globe."
"Y-y-yes of c-c-course."
He steps back out into the hallway in hopes of not startling Desolation further. He holds the marque Qu'Ii in his mind and with his Will, he pushes his lous'rife up his spine towards the marque giving it life. Scarlet light brightens the room like Ryun, himself has descended from the skies momentarily blinding the Immortal Lord; like a river flowing backward he culls his lous'rife to a thin steady trickle. The light glob dims comfortably.
Desolation's trapped lous'rife combined with his own and fueled marque ten times its normal strength. His chest burns and he coughs out honey-flavored smoke.
"My L-L-Lord, are you al-al-alright?" She remains seated but her back is straight and alert. She's seen the smoke.
"Quite fine. My Will is quite forceful. Come, I can hear your stomach's cries of abuse."
Flickers pass and the room echoes silence. Then, the room bursts with song as Desolation stands and walks toward him. He finds it odd he cannot hear her thoughts. Does it mean her mind is blank? She stops at the threshold causing the coins to sing angrily. She stands for a heartbeat longer, then chimes her way across the thresh hold. He enjoys the sound more and more.
That light globe sure frightened me. I thought my heart would leap out of my mouth. Bless the Dyu's I haven't eaten for days or I'd of lost control of my bodily functions.
He attempts not to laugh at her inner commentary but it bursts out in a coughing strangled, snort. More honey smoke escapes his lungs, swirling in lazy Q's about their heads, filling the air with an agreeable aroma.
Is that normal? Has he been blowing smoke this entire time and I had not noticed? What if it's a side effect of my powers? People never survive my destructive self. What if it's my blood? I am cursed, nothing good can come to one that drinks my blood. Why Ira? Why did I do it? I simply couldn't control myself, driven by impulse and desire to save mupu. Now he has my blood in his veins and it's poison.
The Immortal Lord says nothing, purposely striding forward, letting Desolation chime behind him. He wants to confess her blood isn't poison, but power instead, he cannot; for then he'd have to explain how he knew her thoughts. The thoughts of poison take Desolation to a darker place.
Wait, poison. That's what I couldn't remember earlier. I was poisoned the first night. Despite the explanation I had drunk too much wine, I know my body. I have poisoned myself plenty of times and know the outcome and effects of many toxins. I am now immune to every poison known to the village. I was terribly sick, more so than any drink could make me, nor have I slept for three nights after consuming any drink, besides poison. I was starting to think the Immortal Lord could be a decent being, now I remember why he is not.
I wish whatever my power has done to you be painful and cause your real death. Serves you right for almost killing me, again. The first time was an accident, so I forgive you for that. The rest cannot be forgiven. What have I done to cause you to treat me so? Maybe this is the reason none of the brides survive, he poisons them and drains them dry. If only I knew how to call up this power, I'd strike you down for a second time. My anger is spent for now and it will take a while to explode again and when I do, I'll harbor it for you.
Dyu damned bastard of ofineran. I can't believe it took me so long to remember. No wonder why I exploded. I'd been poisoned and found naked.
Desolations thoughts stunned him. He thought he'd have a while longer before she put one and one together, hoping to have time enough to gain her trust. Trust from Desolation would be nigh impossible.
Every step makes their shared bond more and more of a curse as Desolation's dark thoughts curse him. Knowing he deserves every foul word does not lessen the sting. She means every word from the nadir of her soul.
Suddenly, being near her is too much. His limbs move like a marionette being pulled towards the kitchen eager to escape the daggers of Desolation's thoughts which pierced the naped of his neck with every word and causes his vision to blur.
The hustle of the kitchens is a warm blanket of peace, with so many mouths to feed, preparation never ceases. He directs her to the large, currath doors, anxious to be rid of her.
"I'll send Gregoire to guide you to your rooms, I have other business to attend.
With that, he turns sharply and flees like Ofineran's fiery lupinna are baying at his heels.