August 06, 2002summersblade [kaj'sha-bianca][atlantic city boardwalk]
the spears call again (the rake and pull of sharp fingers beneath the waves) and he listens, perched upon the railing like a strange bird (vulture) boots locking and countering weight shifted by light shore breeze washing over skin, fingers idly tracing faint scars over bared bellywhat tapestry unwinds for him tonight
what questions sought, will the whispers answerhe sits, silently, beside the standing (perfect) blond, mismatched eyes occasionally casting aside in check, though would he even need sight or sound to know.....
..sight, sound?
Crutches for the weak.They are bound deeper than that, by the Demon Goddess herself and her thousand million opium-dreams, each spawning another facet of the Father.
As usual, the pair are seated antiparallel to one another: Asher upon the railing, looking out across the boardwalk, Kaj'sha with his back to the continental land mass behind him, face to the ocean. It's instinct, automatically guarding one another's weaknesses, no thought required.
They don't say much. In fact, Kaj'sha says nothing at all, wrapped in his own sort of perfect silence, clean and unmarred. Occasionally his eyelids shut, but it makes no difference. He could see right through them, anyway.
::She was true to her word, and remaind on the railing, staring intently for the perfect gift for hours after Asher left her there, and once finding it, combing the beach to gather it, she went so far as to wade into the (slicking) waves to offer thank you to the spears before rturning to her room, and spending the rest of the night (and day) putting the finishing touches on the already perfect gift.. And now, with it tucked carefully away (under tight tight leather that writhes with a will of its own) she prowls the board walk again, hoping to find him waiting for another lesson (..to learn at the feet of her god..)::
it is the routine glance across Kaj'sha's back that brings her into his vision (a nightmare or hallucination, welcome to this heroin dream) pink tip of tongue tracing a curved smile (scythe's smile)
the sound begins, deep in his throat (to those nearby it would seem like he was only swallowing), though not a tone breaches (homicidal) smile, knowing the focus of his attention is all that's needed to point her out
Flesh is of no consequence of me...
...and, looking through flesh, he sees to the bones. One set of bones, prowling their way, half-consciously following his packmate's attention. Pitchblack eyes study the girl for a moment, study the rather interesting skull attached to her breast for a longer moment, and then slide away, back to the pattern of the rocks dim beneath the ocean's waves.
"Quite an interesting pet you've found this time, Asher. This is Bianca?"
((pause! server crashed))
there's a low chuckle that roils like fog across the waves that regain Kaj'sha's attention, the whisper absent
"She found me....."
words bringing a ripple of tightly controlled rage through the basebones of his skeleton (her trick still a fresh wound across memory) - even his skin talented enough to hide the truth beneath (or so he thinks), replacing that rage with affection's smile looking upon the face of his approaching...... pet......
::Her smile is (timid) shy as she nears Asher (...god...) and the one who must be Kaj'sha (will he seal her fate?) and an slight adjustment to her corset (..gagged..) and a check of what is underneath, subtly, before she pauses just a few steps away, her gaze when resting on Asher filled with (fanatism) adoration, her voice soft (submissive to his every whim)::
"Evening, Asher.... am I inturrupting?"Kaj'sha reaches forward for her breast...a gesture unlike him, for he is not easily (never) tempted by the fruits of flesh he could not see.
But he does not touch her; her and her unwanted houseguest, as one might say. His fingers barely skim the leather holding her second head back, fall away.
"Hm," he says, and then chuckles. "Does it bite?"
a sneer twists the poet's lips (just what is it that lays beneath) mismatched eyes carefully watching this little (interlude) interaction
"We were waiting for you, Bianca."
the tones escorting the molded words make them sound less than inviting (he's still angry........hurt) then the galliard's skull shakes
"It likes to threaten it, but knows better."
::Gaze flickers to Asher at the angry undertones, deflating a touch (she had hoped to make him happy) though she is still determined (redemption). As Kaj'sha reaches, she (the perfectly behaved pet) doesn't flinch back, khol darkened gaze dropping slowly, as she inhales deep enough to bring leather toward gracing fingertips (...to make him proud - anything will be endured to assure Asher's praise...)::
"I keep him gagged as often as I can, sir, though he chews through them.""Ah."
Leaning back, he regards the girl and her pet; his beta and his pet. His lips are wreathed into a small smile, as though he were contemplating some pleasant fiction, some secret unknown to all but himself.
"Kaj'sha will do," abruptly, but not rudely - his tone is charming, as though he were entertaining guests in his fifty-room mansion, "Oliver Harrington in public, or anything else you might think of that suits me. No 'sir'." The smile widens briefly into the promised glory, a winter sunrise. "So, Asher tells me you played a rather cruel trick on him the other night.
"Why?"
invisable hackles raise, though strangly (unnervingly) he stays quiet and lets her answer
::She flushes (...burn baby burn...) at the abrupt reprimand, but nods, with a slight smile::
"Yes s..Kaj'sha."
::She looks up to meet his (..beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and hers are beholden to Asher..) perfect (empty) gaze, before shifing to missmatched (heaven)::
"I did not seek to hurt him, only garner his favor until I could prove my usefulness. I have searched for one such as Asher so that I may serve him, and the Father, for a long time."
::so very softly, chastized::
"I did not wish to be cruel, only to make him happy. I have sworn not to do so again unless it is requested.""In that case," if it is chastisement, it is a gentle one, "if Asher does not mind, who am I to interfere? Asher?"
"If she does it again...... even the Goddess's punishment will look like child's play......"
whispered (a lover's caressing threat) by silken tongue
"Your request to protect her is all that saved her so far......"
he minds (rare to let his feelings show enough to hurt) he wants revenge (the wound still stings as it weeps) though would not disobey even for his own gain
Listening, Kaj'sha removes his sunglasses (and if he wasn't wearing them when the scene started, he was now, dammit!) and polishes them gently on the tail of his (dress-)shirt.
"That doesn't sound like forgiveness to me." He looks up, void-black eyes that see through flesh searching Bianca's empty eyesockets...all he could see of her face. "Sometimes an apology is not enough," he explains - oh-so-gently. "Sometimes promising never to do it again...still isn't enough.
"What do you suggest as your own punishment, Bianca?"
::another glance toward her (..god..) angry patron, and shoulders slump::
"Whatever he desires of me, I will do... should he wish to punish me I will accept without hesitation. His displeasure brings a pain all in its own, far worse then any could understand, then any punishment I could devise on my own behalf."
::gaze remains lowered, before she looks up (hope) and offers a (timid) smile that quickly fades under (..crushing..) threat her voice soft, hoping that Asher realizes just how much she wishes to serve by her careful attention to his request that she watch, and find, something for his Alpha::
"I've... a gift for you, Kaj'sha, to show my sincerity in my desire to serve Asher and those he calls brother..No matter what is required of me."
Small fingers reach within (tightight) corset that hugs (sufficates) skinny form, pulling free a lovingly crafted item she spent the past nights on. The Spears had left upon the sand a dull, worn blade - small, almost decorative, thin - though now it is polished to a glittersheen and razorsharp and she has fashioned a handle from shards of shells, mosiac, edges smoothed so as not to damage the hand that holds it. She flips it around, blade in her hand (flesh cries to feel the first slice) and offer handle to him.::
"it is not enough to garner favor, I am certain, but perhaps a start that brings me closer to acceptance."that strange gaze slides the gleam, studying the gift - though no tresspass his reactions to the surface, having wondered what 'useful thing' she would find - his (deadly) silence remains
The fallen one's strange eyes drop to the blade, flicker over the careful (painstaking) craftsmanship. Slowly, gently, his long, graceful fingers wrap around the handle...
...and pull.
It is not violence. One could not call it violence, such a delicate, lovely piece of work, that cut. Merciless beauty; beautiful mercilessness; never violence. Her blood slides down the blade in unholy baptism, splatters to the wood planks below them.
The Defiler's Chosen raises the blade in salute, his lips curved into that haunting, ever-so-slight smile. "Summersblade," he murmurs, such a bright name for such a lovely weapon belonging to such a dark soul. "That is its name, and I thank you.
Turning to go, "Asher," did you think he would forget? "do as you will with her, but let her live."
...mercy.
[ooc: asher beats bianca to within an inch of her life, takes her to the motel to recover, and leaves her completely alone unil then] Posted by asher at August 06, 2002 12:00 AM
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