01-19-2019, 06:46 PM
and lord, I fashion dark gods too;
He had wondered if she would resist, the way she had hesitated to ask. But she is more pliant now, hot beneath his touch, and she agrees to go with him. He had been prepared to convince her – either by a few more sweet words, or something stronger – but he is pleased to know he can save such energies.
“Excellent,” he purrs, and he wastes no time – still touching her, shadows reach up, wrap like shackles around her ankles. There are a hundred ways to take them to his lair, but he goes, as always, for the theatrical.
The shadows fasten tighter around her ankles, binding her. He disengages, and looks at her – the dark eyes suit her, he thinks, though there was a certain pleasure in the previous scarred, white nothingness of her features.
With no warning, she is yanked down, seemingly through the earth, down into the pits of hell. It’s all an illusion – his theatrics don’t reach quite that far – and where he really takes her is his cave, the place where he keeps them, the ones who have caught his eye.
He keeps her in blackness, mutes her infrared vision. He unfurls the shadows that had been around her ankles.
She’s caged, though she won’t know it, yet – the space is wide enough that she will not feel the walls unless she chooses to run. The blackness is thick around him, and he is quiet, savoring it for a moment before he adjusts his own vision so that he may see her, a pale white specter in the gloom.
“This should feel familiar,” he says, and chuckles to himself, though the joke is easy. He does not touch her, not yet. He watches her carefully, curious to see if she will move, if the pressing darkness will panic her, or soothe her. He stays out of her mind, chooses to guess at it himself.
A little mystery is fun, after all.
c a r n a g e