Saturday, August 19, 2017

Of Blood, Flesh and Scale

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[101] Nymaya: Of Blood, Flesh and Scale
Thu Jun 29 18:57:53 2017
To: All Verminasia Ashtiel Telthian Crelius ( Equinox Cayenna Imm Storyline RP )
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The power to be had in flesh and blood was known to her. 

She had scars that had gone deep, that had bled her nearly to death for the ritual of blood, sacrifice and oath dating back as far as she could recall.

She brushed her hand over the scar across her throat, her fingers lingering along the left side and tried to consider her options.  Most of the people she had known were gone.  In many cases, hundreds of years gone.  Her own memories, the ones she needed to draw on, were often so long removed from the moments she was trying to recollect that she felt somewhat unreliable.

She lifted her left hand, wrist up and ran her fingers down the scars that Irisi had left in the wake of ripping the flesh for Queen Philyra, for Fatale.  No one from that age yet lingered and she had barely retained her life.  There was no one left to go to. 

Frowning, she allowed a soft exhale of frustration and brushed her fingers down along the cut on her face.  From temple to chin, it still burned as if recently placed.  It was the only direction she had left to pursue, a constant reminder of what she had achieved and lost.  Of what lingered yet.

"Uvall" She whispered and set her chin to her fist. 

She could feel that link.  In her dreams, in her nightmares, the demon was with her still and might always be.  Her free hand touched to her chest, where the stone had sat - the tie that had bound her to him within the confines of her debt.  It had shattered when she had completed her end of the bargain, but the weight remained. 

Her eyes closed on the remembered sensation and in the darkness there, she fell. 

There should have been blankets, a soft mattress, pillows but there was only the rush of air whistling past her ears, cushioning her body.  Heavy, hellish heat licked along every inch of her and by her ear, the caress of demonic laughter and a familiar feverish pulse.  She knew it as power - his power - and didn't fight it.  She had learned that lesson the hard way. 

Nymaya.. 

The voice was demonic, mockingly intimate, possessed of a grin.  A touch followed, brushing across her cheek and down, to where the stone had sat against her chest.  She felt the oddness of his fingertip, the threatening edge of his nail and the cut along her temple and cheek, down to her chin flared painfully.  The touch lifted and slowly, his long fingers slipped around her throat, his thumb tilting her jaw up.

The next time, your soul will not be denied.   The words were not spoken, they echoed back to her - a memory. 

"It will be if Nagash wrests it first." She dared to breathe.

She swallowed thickly, aware that she was not just playing with fire.  She had stepped into it.  The beat of her heart sounded and she felt heat and rage rise around her.  The pain was alive, as if true flame were searing her nerve endings and on its heels, the chaotic inundation of the Haunt.

A sharp cry heralded wakefulness.  Blood had beaded along the cut again and heat rolled from her bare skin but it was the discordant ebb and flow that had all her attention.  In the dark, illuminated only by a ray of moonlight, she was forced to wrestle it down alone.

It was silence she had to strive for. 

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