Spoiler! :
Chapter One;
Avarice took a bite of the apple, savouring the burst of juice that sprayed into her mouth the moment her teeth bit into the delicate red skin. Her grey eyes cast about the dimly lit room, searching for a familiar face amidst the plentiful guests roaming the common room like flighty doves from perch to perch. She chewed thoughtfully, knowing that she had best move before the sun began it's slow decent in the sky. A glance back out the open french doors and she noted the time left, exactly four hours until sunset. The harpist plucked her melancholy tune, it’s sweet notes carrying throughout the spacious room and she chanced her eyes upon a man and woman making conversation. The man seemed agitated, his wine glass spattering droplets of red liquid onto the wooden floors as he gestured, however the woman merely nodded her head politely and stepped back when he stumbled forward. Avarice licked her lips and lowered the apple as she tentatively went for a bite.
The agitated creature stumbled away from the woman, meandering towards the balcony door nearest her for some of the crisp night air to clear his head. She placed the apple onto the small wooden table at her side and turned from the commons to follow the man as he proceeded to exit onto the balcony. Avarice glanced about, the balcony nearly empty aside from the newly come man, herself and a couple who were pleasantly dancing tongues in the shadows. The woman’s moans brought forth a casual air of intrigue but Avarice had no time for play. She returned her attention to the man, his name she had not yet discovered, and placed a hand upon his shoulder, smiling coyly; ruby coloured lips pulled back over whitened teeth. His stubble covered face glanced over at her, and frowned, his handsome blue eyes narrowing before he looked away and threw back the rest of his wine. Avarice reached over and plucked the wine glass’s thin stem from his fingers, placing it onto the balcony’s cool iron rail.
“Damn you woman!” he slurred in his drunkard’s speech, waving a blustering paw in the air. “What do you want?” he demanded, spittle flying from his numb lips.
“I want what every woman wants, dear ser.” she replied with a flirtatious smile, trailing her fingers down his arm as any seductress knew to do.
“Ser,” he muttered, bitterness washing throughout the word until it drifts upon the wind. “I am no ser, woman. Keep your ser to yourself.” he grumbled, brushing the front of his white blouse to ward the infinite crumbs of some food.
“What must I call you?” she wanted to know, using her hand to spin him to face her. She pondered a glance into his eyes like chips of frozen seas and shuddered against the sheer depth.
“Preare, that is what you should call me.” he told her as he reached for his empty wine glass. His finger brushed against the stem, but did not grip, thus unbalancing the glass cup and sending it over the edge of the balcony’s rail. Avarice winced at the shattering sound, like a strike of lightning crackling through a grey sky.
“Preare, you may call me Avarice.” she murmured, reaching up and placing a long fingered hand at the base of his neck, toying with the small lick of hair just brushing his nape.
“Avarice. Avarice?” he purred, a meaty hand placed upon her breast as he squeezed, “A name as delectably soft on the tongue as the body is on flesh,” he spewed as she pressed herself close to his warm body.
“Come to the shadows, Preare, and I’ll show you how soft the body is on flesh,” she whispered, her voice a caress dancing on the evenfall’s wind. Preare smiled at the prospect, brushing his hand against his pocket; a glint in his eye as he followed. She pulled him by his muscular bicep, the lines of the hard muscle enticing her to take more than her fair share, but she mustn’t she had been warned beforehand that such acts had costs. Preare opened his mouth to speak, but she hurriedly placed a finger to his lips, stopping all objections or praise he was to give. She pulled him close, pressed her luscious lips to his and allowed their tongues to dance; a dance of passion and lust. He wrapped an arm around her bodice, forbidding her to move as she mingled her tongue with his and ran her long nails down the nape of his neck.
He moaned as she pressed her left hand to his groin, feeling the stiffness in his trousers and she applied a small amount of pressure, enough to provide a distraction.
It was then that she seized the momentum of her actions and placed a fingernail at the base of his skull and pushed the tip of her nail so as to break the skin and provide access to what she needed most. Preare grunted at the piercing of his flesh but otherwise ignored it as he continued to enjoy the distraction she provided, which was endeavoured further as she slipped her hand down the front of his trousers. Avarice licked his lip, before taking it in between her teeth and nibbling whilst her right hand beheld the work she needed to do. She discreetly reached into the bosom of her dress and removed a small capsule of an ink-like substance and removed the translucent cap before pouring the ink into the miniscule wound that she had created. It was a delicate process, one she had practiced often. Her grandfather had been the one who had taught her of such practices, an alchemist he had been before his passing but now he remained but a long ago memory of safe havens and short-lived childhood dreams. Avarice flicked the capsule from her fingers, hoping that it had gone over the balcony to the cement beneath them.
Preare pulled away to nuzzle her neck, “Shall we seclude ourselves with privacy, Avarice? Or shall we endeavour in our pleasures for all maiden and virgin boy to see?” he murmured, moving to suckle the flesh atop her breast.
“Privacy is unnecessary but a cost we must pay, for there are godly people amidst my crowd.” she responded cordially, taking his warm hand within her own and manoeuvring through the throng of mingling people, each sipping wine of indulging in platters of buttered cod or pickled herring; one of her favourites.
Preare kept pace, itching the back of his neck and muttering of biting insects to which he would have killed should he have been named God. Avarice tugged a tad harder, keeping a facade of desperate woman seeking to indulge in pleasure-related affairs; perhaps in his mind due to a whoring husband or recently widowed. She was in no hurry to understand the sick pleasure this man took to bedding a woman with no explanation, perhaps he was truly clouded with the thick heady wine but she who had sipped two glasses felt no slightest hint of a drunken haze. Avarice reluctantly opened the door to a private room, it’s spacious flooring and large bed greeting her with it’s taunting white lace. How she longed to sleep; but work was what needed doing and so she did what needed being done.
Preare followed her, slamming the door shut with a meaty paw, “Privacy; a wrongly choice for a lone maiden of your delicate stature, Avarice.”
“Not at all, Preare. A clever name, to reward you of much; however one of your brothers has had a loose tongue during one of our pleasant meetings. An ending much the same as that you will soon encounter.” she replied, shifting the ruffled black gown she wore, and seating herself on the edge of the feather mattress.
“An ending to our dear, brief, encounter? I fear not lady Avarice, I’ve not seen your weaponry nor your comrades here to defend what must be a woman’s virtue?” he goaded, wiping the sweat that beaded on his brow.
Avarice shifted, leaning an elbow onto her knee. “Is it warm, Reaper?” she inquired, brushing strands of golden hair from her face. “I fear it was too cold for me in the commons room.” she shook her head with a sigh, “I do, however, understand how such passion and lust must make a man sweat after having lost a woman, so close. So close.” she breathed.
“I do not sweat after you, though your touch has made me hard as stone, I fear it must be warm within your chambers; how you sleep with such heat is beyond me.” he murmured, confusion swimming in the depths of his fevered gaze.
“What is it you are doing here, Reaper?” she asked, standing to approach him. She did not enjoy being still whilst there was work to be done. “What is it... Forbidden; not permitted to whisper information.” he gestured vaguely, sweat dripping off his nose.
“I wouldn’t tell if you shan’t either.” she pouted, ruby coloured lips enticingly plump.
The reaper, however, refused to respond; his blue eyes hot like coals as he stumbled back from her. “What witchcraft did you perform?” he hissed, his words slurred together. Avarice rose, and placed a delicate hand unto the Reaper’s chest, and raised herself to kiss him on the cheek.
“None, what-so-ever. It’s called alchemy, dear Reaper, and it is much more useful.” she said, pulling away as she discreetly slipped an item into the back of her tightly laced bodice; the item stuck, uncomfortably so, but she said not a word as the Reaper slowly sank to his knees. “Tell me, why is it you are here, I shall spare you death?” she offered, but the stubborn creature shook his head.
“Why... What is it ... Acacius...” the Reaper permitted himself a strangled breath, the oxygen rattling within his lungs. “Child...” and at his last breath the Reaper slumped to the ground, ever so still as a carving of stone whilst a purple web of lines began to trace the body’s veins.
Avarice rolled her neck and flexed her slender fingers before taking a last casual glance at the man’s body and hurrying out of the bedchambers. Her head ached furiously with the steady pounding rhythm of her heartbeat which at the moment was racing in her chest. Where there was one, there would follow others. However, she had need to keep a calm facade. A hand on her shoulder spun her around, “Annaline! So nice to see you again,” a drunken voice guffawed, “Where’ve you been, my darling woman?” it inquired, but Avarice paid no mind to his drunkard’s acts. She wasn’t safe, and she was drained as well. Physically, she could feel each muscle seizing and cramping painfully, though she’d ignored it until now. Mentally, she could not seem to make sense of her predicament at the moment, the weary strain of her eyes and pounding head were mingling as a single sensation causing her to feel as a woman on sea.
She pressed passed the crowd, her foot wear clicking gently along the floorboards as she hurried out onto the balcony; there was no time. Another hand reached for her, which she narrowly evaded and she heard the distinct sound of footsteps immediately behind her. Avarice licked her lips, and pushed through the throng of people onto the balcony, before stepping near the balcony’s railing. “There’s nowhere to go,” a voice warned from behind her, and Avarice turned to chance a glance at a man wearing a dark suit, his eyes the colour of dark chocolate; a thought struck her just before she gripped the railing and flipped herself over it so she flew to the cement below.
Avarice flailed a moment, righting herself before she landed hard on the balls of her feet, absorbing the impact which jarred her a moment. She could hear the steady thrum of music above, and the sound of multiple persons arguing. However, she did not risk remaining longer; she hiked her gown up as she used one hand to unlace the crinoline, stepping out of it and tearing the long bottom of her gown from where a small rip had already begun. With the jagged rip she freed her legs and left the items of clothing behind as she ran.
The gas-lit lamps illuminated little of the street, casting small pools of orange-coloured light where she avoided and kept close to the shadows. She heard the distinct sound of hooves, the sound of voices behind hollering for her to stop. Her widened grey eyes scanned the area for somewhere to hide; she couldn’t be found. Avarice slipped into a nook between two tall houses, looking for an escape but there was none; a dead end one that could possibly risk everything she’d worked for.
Hoof-beats slowed, coming to a halt nearby and Avarice held her breath, praying to the lord that she would not be found. She stiffened as she heard footsteps on the cobblestone road, approaching and nearing her hiding place, if there had been a God, he hadn’t heeded her prayer. She reached down the front of her dress and pulled free an steel handled dirk, it’s blade edge dark as black. Avarice could picture the grotesque image of the Reaper come to kill her, their glamour removed to reveal the creature hidden beneath the mask. Their skin as blanched as the moon, hanging in loose clumps that peeled from the bone, their eyes nothing but empty holes of black, their mouths gaping chasms with thin needle like teeth and fingers of claw-like bones. She shuddered at the image, but opened her eyes as the footsteps paused in their approach.
“Come out, come out, puppet; the puppeteer is awaiting your return...” gargled the distorted voice of a Reaper, it’s call grating at her ears.
She pressed herself harder against the wall, straining to keep herself hidden as she breathed shallow breaths, awaiting her captor’s face to appear so she could strike. It, however, never came. There was a sudden clamour of commotion, the high-pitched squeal of a horse in fright, a scream of a Reaper in death, the blinding light that ensued. She peered out and spotted a Reaper’s mighty axe embed itself in one of the aggressors skulls. The creature turned around, it’s black cavern-like eyes spotted her and it’s gaping mouth twisted and curdled into a smile. She stepped away from the wall, dirk gripped in a vice-like fist at her side as she tensed. The Reaper stepped towards her, heaving it’s axe from the dead man’s skull with a sickening sound like sucking a muscle from it’s shell. She shifted her stance, the ripped gown she wore tangling about her legs as she raised her weapon’s tip in the direction of the creature.
The Reaper approached, cackling it’s sickly laugh like bones clattering to the ground, and just as it took it’s second step a hand wrapped around her mouth and she was abruptly jerked away from the alley’s mouth, into darkness. “Keep quiet,” a voice hissed in her ear, and she remain frozen. She hadn’t expected this, this wasn’t what she was used to as her father had taught her. She twisted, pulling herself under the large arm and lunging with her dirk, embedding it within the aggressor’s thigh. She heard a hiss of pain and rage as she backed away, until she noticed that it wasn’t a Reaper. “Damn, woman.” he snarled, taking her arm and wrenching the dirk from her grasp, tossing it to the ground before he threw her over his shoulder and pushed away into the dead ended alley. Avarice pounded a hand to the man’s chest, but to no avail, each hit only serving to anger him further until he threw her to the ground, watching as she skid across the ground. Contempt in his eyes, Avarice rose feebly, her gown torn and legs and side bloody from the rough gravel. “You’ve wasted time, bitch.” he hissed before turning away from her and loping towards the entrance where the Reaper’s white flesh gleamed like moonlit sand.
She watched in amazement as the man lunged for the reaper shifting, into something entirely knew to her, as he flew through the air. Avarice bit her tongue to keep from crying out as the Reaper screamed in surprise as the flaming creature came and tore at the loosely hanging skin, tearing it’s vicious claws down bone and watching as they seared into a blackened crisp. She rose to her feet, knowing she had nothing with which she could defend herself from this beast of flames and bones, it’s maw opened as it crackled and sparked while tearing into the Reaper.
Avarice turned around, wondering what it was she would do but as sudden as it had begun the noise ended with abrupt silence. She held her breath as the creature turned it’s head towards her, it’s hooked fangs dripping saliva-like liquid onto the ground. Avarice held still, afraid to breath as it began to steadily approach her, it’s eyes like molten lava, red and orange mixed together. She feared to move, should it lunge at her and devour her as it did the Reaper. Avarice licked her lips, feeling the heat that emanated as the beast took another step forward, shaking out it’s flames which died in a sputtering cough before it slumping to the ground. She stared at it a moment, watching as it’s bones twisted and stretched, becoming covered with a thin translucent covering before regaining it’s colour. Avarice blinked and the process had finished, the human man that had once slung her over his shoulder now lay there, heaped and out of breath. His clothes strewn across the cobblestone as he lay there naked, his pale skin peppered with ash.
“What are you, creature?” she dared ask, fear causing her voice to quiver , however she remained strong and casually leaned against the brick wall, though discreetly holding herself upright for fear of falling after what she had just seen this man become.
“I am Thanatos, granted the name to bear after my people’s inescapable past.” he responded quietly, shivering as the night’s cool air brushed his naked skin. Avarice herself was shivering, whether from the cold or from fright she did not yet know. She did not ask of said past, deeming it better to stray from such topics than allow him to know how truly afraid she was.
“I must leave; allow me passage so that I may depart.” she told him, stepping bravely forward.
Thanatos stepped in front of her, “You cannot mean to go home, woman. You’ve just seen that it is you the Reapers are after, for why I do not know, but it is you they want; you need safe-keeping.”
Avarice squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin stubbornly, “You mean to think that I am weak, ser?” she demanded, a blush of shame creeping up her neck.
“I had arrived moments before, though you seemed to hold the knife strongly, your legs shook and your grip faltered as the Reaper approached; you are afraid. A rightly response to a situation such as this.”
“I was in no need of your aid,” she replied stubbornly, gritting her teeth against her cry of shame.
Thanatos shook his head, “It matters not what you say, I will not allow you to run off to your death. A woman fair of the likes of you should have an escort no matter where it is she must go.” he answered. “It is up to you, would you care to leave for home or for a haven I’ve lived for a while, woman?” he offered, extending a hand for her to take.
“Avery, my name is Avery.” she lied, taking his hand into hers. “I’d like to... go to this haven of yours Thanatos.” she replied after a miniscule pause of hesitation.
“You needn’t call me that; feel free to name me Kaios.” he sighed, as the two began to walk from the alley way out into the darkness of the street.
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Chapter two will be out soon, just bear with me. I love you all for your imput and that you took the time to read this, so thank you and I'll be sure to take everything you've said into consideration -- also I advise you to read the Spoiler if you haven't already.
. Basically, it's really stilted/purple poeticy. I can definitely see what you're aiming for--older, artistocratic and proper. You hit it sometimes, but not all times.
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