July 27, 2002
something sparkly [kaj'sha]

[wyrmpit]

He finds Asher where he thought he might: in the main room, stereo turned up. Galliard...

...and Philodox, moving so quietly that Asher might not notice him until the beautiful youth stands beside him, one hand on his shoulder stabilizing Kaj'sha's center of balance as he lowers himself carefully to a clean spot on the floor. Unlike many Dancers, especially Metis, he doesn't touch often, and if Asher read the contact as some sign of trust, perhaps he would be correct. When the fallen Fang has seated himself, crosslegged, he is quiet for a moment.

Listening. Perhaps, trying to find what Asher heard in the notes, the music, the pulse of the bass. But the tapestry does not unravel for him, and presently he turns to his packmate.

"I have something to ask you," he says. "Tell me what you know of the vampire Dahlila."

it takes the pressure of steadying hand to pull mismatched eyes away from watching the notes pour from the speakers, regonition's breath stirring a soft (affectionate) rumble to vibrate in his throat, head tilting as if he'd lean to smear his scent across packmate, the full contact granted Sian - but instead, only the clean tips of bangs barely tickle over the back of Kaj'sha's wrist

he has learned much in these months

"Dahlila?"

those eyes crawling the length of retracting arm, to level on beautiful face, head canting in (surprisingly straightforward) question

"Malcom's little leech-toy," replies Kaj'sha, absently wondering if Asher bore any unclean substances on those bangs. He has tact enough not to wipe it away, though if he had, Asher should know by now that it's nothing personal.

They were all twisted in their own little ways, and some more than most.

"You know, the young-looking one who acts so shy and pitiful. Malcom said you and Sian wanted to eat her for breakfast. I wondered why."


a smile spreads (gleeful) across his features, the laughter dances rich above the low pulse of music escaping the speakers

"You mean the loose end. She's the one that saw the exchange between Sian and Malcom the other night. I never threatened to eat her...... just dance in her dreams should she not keep quiet about the event."

though the coy roll in his words brings the consideration of eating her foreward in his mind, he wouldn't mind it, hands lifting to rake through hair still damp at the roots from the (more regular than expected) shower


He chooses to be amused tonight, as he chose to be charming earlier, and snobbish before that. He picks his personalities like cards from a deck, and only the Wyrm knew which - or how many - of them were true.

"Ah, well. She came crying to Malcom, who came grovelling to me. 'Please, Boss, don't eat her.' What do you think - will she keep quiet? You seem to know her better than I."


again, the chortle rolls, but he is wary of the ways he has seen those personalities change, words chosen to carefully cultivate the continued amusement like a lizard basking in the sun's warmth

"If she were still able to defacate, she should have...... and her boys are more trigger happy brawn than brain. But I've only met them once...... she was more concerned about Malcom's safety beneath my hands than anything, so doubtfully will betray the mutual friend. Although quiet or not I only promised I wouldn't taint her dreams..... everything else is still an option. Sian wanted them...... badly...."


Thoughtful for a moment, letting the bassline wash over his skin. Then, "It is not the threat she and her 'boys' pose that concerns me; it is the possible threat her kind might pose if she says too much, if Malcom does not play this right. If, if, if."

A silence, longer.

"There may come a day when I will ask you to cut this loose end entirely. Rest assured, however, I will make it worth your while. And Sian's, for that matter.

"Until then, keep her talons pointed in another direction for me, hm?"


he listens, carefully, attentively, watching as if he could see how the music touches velvet over Kaj'sha's skin (as he aches to but never will), were he shifted surely mule ears could be seen swiveling foreward to catch each word and siphon them from the music

"She spoke that the others would not beleive her, I wonder who the others are she is able to contact.... if she believes Malcom can 'get her places.'

I've found many a replacement for both her, and Malcom, beneath Sian's talons.... I'm sure I can find more until the time is right for you, Kaj'sha...."

"Of course she said that," Kaj'sha says, but does not snap. Indulgent, amused...for now. "She wants to live."

And suddenly, Kaj'sha is laughing outright, as whatever idea turned over and polished like a stone in his mind comes into crystalline focus. "Oh," says the beautiful(ly fallen) creature, "but now, I've a much better idea.

"I will make you a token. The next time Malcom makes contact with the mosquito, I want you to give it to her. Tell her it's a token of our good will - that as long as she wears it, neither you nor Sian will lay a finger on her.

"I will bind a spirit into the amulet, and it will watch her for us. Should she speak too much, we will know, and to whom she spoke...and you will need to distract Sian no more."


attention prickles like dancers caught in halt between songs, anticipating what beats will next grace their ears like the plan that falls from Kaj'sha's lips, the smile brilliant and malicious in its approval (even if it is something he knows not Kaj cannot fully see)- while he may not be from beneath the new moon, he has affinity to the trickster's wicked games and knows this is something with great potential

"I have something that sparkles, if you wish it...."


The Philodox gets to his feet. "Does it become her?" he asks with a smile. "I imagine it should do."

The youth stretches, smooth as a ribbon, and his joints do not pop. His joints never pop. The Father has made him perfect, or as close to perfect as anyone can come. At least, that is what He told Kaj'sha.

"I will be in my chambers," he tells Asher, already walking away. "Do not knock before you enter; the spirits are easily frightened away, and the door will not be locked. Leave the trinket on the floor and I will attend to it when I can. Remember to lock the door on your way out...but then, you always do, don't you?"


"Yes, Kaj'sha"

to all of the above and more, the words the smile his Alpha cannot see (a breif, torturous, thought to what he would do behind a locked door) watching the (his) perfect youth walk away

the rise slow, lithe (content cat with focus on prey) stretching to turn off the stereo and pull it's plug (another door closed) soon traversing the tunnels of their pit to find the (stolen) trinket

((trinket used is the necklace stolen from the woman he and Sickboy killed earlier in the month, diamond teardrop necklace, maybe half a karat or so, gold chain))

Posted by asher at July 27, 2002 12:00 AM
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