Just-Another-Killer (Open)

[Arlenwa Nenharma]

Cedric scaled the side of one of the many buildings, his black cloak shielding him from unfriendly eyes that might be lurking in the shadowy city below him. He reached for the top of the structure, his foot slipping, panic blinding the man for a moment. "Damn!" He spoke in an angry whisper as he regained his grip, and pulled himself up.

A dark grin fluttered across his lips briefly, but faded and his face became an emotionless mask. It was time for him to work. He darted stealthily across a rooftop, positioning himself behind a side-wall of a taller building attached to the one he was on. Where is he? Cedric pulled a dagger out from his belt and waited.

Eventually another cloaked man crept through the dark alley looking nervous. Cedric raised his arm to throw the dagger, but as luck would have it, a stray cat lept from the higher building onto his shoulder. Its claws dug into Cedric's leather jerkin. He flung his arms around, the cat jumping to the ground gracefully. "Argh!" He cried out in frustration, throwing the dagger blindly into the alleyway.

He ran to the roof's edge, finding his target gone. In rage, Cedric turned around, searching for the cat, but he couldn't see it any longer. He let out a long sigh, climbing down into the alleyway to fetch his dagger. Cedric mumbled to himself quietly. Where is it? He straightened himself, and let the air in his lungs out in a quick gust. He had failed his lady Rhiannon. He laughed at the word 'lady'. He didn't believe she was worthy of such a title. She was a tyrant. A cruel curse to the fallen people of Anorith, who now had to call themselves Battonians. He shook his head at the word, and moved into another alley, searching diligently for his dagger.



{Word Count: Only 309 =O}
{Notes: Hope he finds his dagger. . .}

[Kiaraá]

KIA

[/size][/font]RAÁ[/b][/size][/color] [/font]
baby I can feel your halo , pray it won't fade away![/center][/color][/size]

the battonian sky was acidic, dribbling a sickly odorless heat into the stifling air. battonian. the word seemed as dirty as the title, clinging to the filth and ruin that littered the infamous alleyways. even the brickwork could not evade the plague of desolation, the grains showing the beginnings of splinters and decay. the streets were void of any humanoid life, though the quiet mumblings of small mammals could be heard scurrying between the desolate housing. battonia was dying. it was more a rotting carcass than a city, its skeletal frame housing cheap whores and indebted men, condemned to their pungent, elderly dwellings as a hangman to his noose. these dying days were rich with sportless laughter and drunken babble, each inn filling humanity's cups to the brim with murky, stale ale. the filth that were conceived here, born here, and regularly died here were gangly and misshapen, with skin the hue of rotten mushrooms, their eyes a bottomless well of self loathing and deceit.

kiaraa's heart-shaped face observed the street disdainfully. her attire was plain, though pretty, colored in the same grey-blue ink that the streets leaked oppressively. her fragrant caramel hair nestled between her breast and her corset, framing her olive toned skin. battonia was a maze of broken and disheveled apartments, each peeling room and unweeded garden differing little from its neighbors. her small feet were numb from the beating of the cobblestones, and her delicate arms swung listlessly in their sockets, defeated by the lifelessness of the winding avenues. kiara's pale lips were pursed, stubbornly. as a young child she had wondered among this city, breathlessly exploring the pedicured gardens and the obscure markets adoringly. all color that had once existed as a pigment was now untraceably dull, the shadows reeking of cheap perfume and garbage. her remarkable amber eyes narrowed. rhiannon had much to answer for. too much.

stepping into the alleyway quietly, kiaraa brushed her fingertips against the coarse walls, a bemused, pained smile painting her lips. the things of man perished so quickly, so fickly. their life was such a small flicker, a tiny burst of candlelight to a world of endless shadow. so easily broken. so easily extinguished. her thoughts were violently interrupted by a small man. he was unshaven, his clothes greasy and unwashed, alcohol distinctly sour on his breath. he observed her almost morosely, desperately, before brushing past her wordlessly. his rapid footfalls disturbed the cockroaches crawling on the street, and then it was silent. her superbly carved eyebrow arched. pressing her body against the coolness of the bricks, she gracefully moved closer into the tight space, her brow furrowing as her eyes penetrated the gloom. she felt slightly alarmed by the suggestive tightness of her dress, the pronouncement of her cleavage and thighs against the baby blue lace. ignoring this, she ushered on.

something glinted against the naked light that fell awkwardly onto the patched, dusty earth. disturbing the virgin soil with her left hand, she examined the weapon. it was crude, cheap, nothing like the lustrous, intricate steel metal work of her own concealed knife, pleasantly cool against her breastbone. on closer inspection it had once been a noble weapon, the tarnished copper edging long ago a brilliant scarlet against the innocence of the pale blade's ore. brushing the tainted specks of moist earth from it, she paused. in the connecting alleyway she could barely hear where large boots crushed against the path. wistfully, she tucked her dagger into the seam of her dress, pressing her own dagger to reassure herself. her pointed ears twitched, straining to hear what could only be a large, tall man. her small body stood erect as she cautiously proceeded to the interlocking space. suddenly, the man stepped just as she did, and they collided, her chest half-nuzzling his own. alarmed, she mumbled an apology, stepping three paces back to study him.



notes; who doesn't love a schmutty she-elf in a run down city? eh? ♥
word count; roughly 640 (;
inspiration; beyonce - halo

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[Arlenwa Nenharma]

How was it that he had come to this city? Cedric couldn't remember how Rhiannon had dragged him here on his leash. His pledge of servitude. Oh Cedric.. you brainless cutthroat. He shook his head, kneeling in the dirt near piles of putrid waste, feeling around behind barrels for his beloved weapon. He swore at himself quietly, and stood, pacing.

He couldn't ask Rhiannon to supply him with new weapons. He wouldn't dare. She had nearly killed him for loosing a mere amulet, a woman's jewl. He laughed at the memory and the pain the beautiful massacrer had caused him. Indeed she was beautiful. With her dark hair, fierce, hateful eyes. Cedric pressed his fist to the tight line of his mouth. No, he couldn't think that way about her. I wonder if she thinks of me.. He sighed loudly. He was a troubled soul.

Cedric pulled at his jerkin, and began walking down the alleyway once again. He could trade something for a new dagger, but she would know. She would be angry again. The man's clenched fists tightened as he collided with a woman. "Move-" He stopped, studying the female when she stepped back. Such hair! His eyes traveled the length of her her lithe form, catching a glimpse of her pointed ear. He caught his breath, but did not acknowledge the fact of what she could be. "You shouldn't be wandering in this city alone." He forced a disdainful look upon his face, his forearm brushing on the hilt of his sword, and a shiver of hate pierced his soul.

Hopefully he wouldn't have to kill the lady. He felt a strange allure to this woman, but he wanted her to leave his city. Wait. His city? Rhiannon would never cease to poison his mind. His body tensed at the name. She was so beautiful, how could he hate her so? No! No. . . She was a butcher of men. But, here before him was a woman more beautiful than she! Right in front of him. Just there.. as if she were a spirit appearing to him to damn him to the underworld. His breathing became heavy, and he studied her again, pausing at her chest. Cedric pulled his attentions away quickly, finding it increasingly harder to look arrogant.

"Why are you here?" His tone was more demanding, he had made her wait too long. In truth, only a minute had passed, but Cedric did not realise. Her beauty. It was such a burden on his mind. . . "I- Welcome to this foul city." He could bear it no longer, he flashed a toothy grin, his pearly teeth glinting slightly. "Why are you alone? Being a woman, something terrible could befall you with all the.. distasteful men." His breathing slowed, and he was calm again. It was very likely this woman would find him... less than dersirable in more ways than one, but he could try to make it up to her.

Cedric straightened himself, sending a series of quick cracks down the length of his spine. His mind slowed for a moment in thought. He was such a man. Or at least, he was according to himself. No one could really judge his character since no one had ever truly known his soul. He rested his hand on the top of his sword's hilt. He felt more like a prision guard than what rank he was. This city was slowly killing him both body and soul. "May I escort you to your home?" Cedric doubted that she actually lived in this god forsaken Battonia. The name brought the all too familiar taste in his mouth. He fought the urge to spit the taste of the word out onto the filthy ground. Gray eyes refocoused on the beautiful maiden, now easily keeping his lust at bay with the thought of how he had wronged so many people. It was a good weapon to use against such things. He smiled hesitantly, awaiting the lecture that was to soon surely pour out past her lips in a bittersweet song, just for him. She was a winged horse among dirty, haggard mules. One of the most beautiful woman his eyes had ever beheld. Just like her. He thought. No! His mind whirled, the hesitant smile now a misshapen grimace at his newest thought. He replaced that in turn, with his emotionless mask.


{Word Count: 729. Yay! I'm getting some muse back!}
{Notes: I'm a little teapot short and stout! Er.. Cedric's just a little bit crazy at the moment, so excuse his thoughts.}

[Kiaraá]

KIA

[/size][/font]RAÁ[/b][/size][/color] [/font]
baby I can feel your halo , pray it won't fade away![/center][/color][/size]

"Move-". the voice was dry, soft, so pleasurably masculine it was almost a ridicule against his sex. the stranger was in his prime, the lines of age and ruin barely touching his detailed facade. a decedent line of muscle slighted his dark apparel, somehow heavier and more definite than the thick ash that smothered the luke-warm air. in fact, the man stood a good length above her, observing her bosom with a tedious curiosity. he had a demeanor of some authority, but it was as splintered as the withering bricks, as worthless as the scum that succumbed to the plagued streets. authority in battonia was as fickle as a paid lover in one's arms, moaning and sweating against the rough cotton sheets. kiaraa's soulful brow arched, observing with mild bemusement his alarm toward her. "You shouldn't be wandering in this city alone." he commented, furrowing his brow into a laughable attempt of fatherly disapproval. a small amused smile twitched at the ends of kiaraa's pursed lips.

"Why are you here?" the man questioned coldly, his tone suggesting a less than friendly interrogation. the harshness of the demand rippled through her petite frame like a pulse of heat, her amber eyes darkening, hissing with a sudden coldness that did not touch her gossamer face. he studied her in the poor light, with enough gusto to make a virgin blush. she opened her wry mouth slightly, but she was interrupted by the stranger's alto speech, his voice ringing rusty bells in the perverse silence of the alley. "I " he started, pausing briefly - hesitantly, "- Welcome to this foul city." he offered finally, flashing a somewhat hesitant cheshire grin to the dubious female. kiaraa's gaze intensified. "Why are you alone? Being a woman, something terrible could befall you with all the... distasteful men.". a wistful smile touched the pale roses that sat diligently upon her smooth cheeks. distasteful men. however could she recover from such a hideous concept? she was not naive of the fact, or arrogant, or insane, none of those subversive adjectives one could pelt so easily at another. kiaraa was a widow, and if anything, she could look after herself.

the coolness of her blade against the warmth of her bosom comforted her, though it was clear the man had ruffled her pride. turning her attention once again to him, she observed his seemingly internal conversation with mild disdain. his bi-polar personality was puzzling her exceedingly, as her many accounts of him all seemed to contradict each other like mismatched ivory in a grotesque game of chess. she shook her head silently, as if to distill her own thoughts. she barely caught the end of his latest outburst, but it seemed he was requesting to escort her to some freak rendezvous. after a moments hesitation, she opened her tight jaw. " sir. as to your concern of my apparent singularity, i must inform you that i'm perfectly able to defend myself against distasteful men" she conversed, smiling somewhat courteously at the mention of the infamous humanoids he had spoken of with such false dignity. "and" she, paused, sighing exasperatedly, " perhaps this conversation may be ... continued, at an inn of your choosing. as of such i have no current home to return to in battonia." she spat the word coldly, as if it's taint could physically touch her.

raising her head to his own, a caramel lock falling into the miniscule space between them, she offered a somewhat retired bemusement, studying his grey eyes with a certain hesitance. the were almost blue, like mark's. not as pretty, not as unburdened, but so strikingly similar her heart ripped, physically causing her to gasp airlessly. that wound had been dealt to her so long ago, yet it still ached at the very resemblance of her fiance. she would have given up her immortality for him. all of time, all suns and all moons, to grow old. to be with him. under the listless summer heat she would have cooled him, and warmed him when winter birthed its drizzled snows. she would have been happy with her fate. happy to lie in a grave neatly by him, her pale body unmoving and hueless like the virgin snow that brushed her expressionless cheeks. content to die. a cold, ungraceful smirk grew sour on her thin lips. would was a tiresome realm. it bore her nothing but disappointment. it was better to accept, and move on. insanity greedily devoured any soul which did not.

kiaraa's eyes shifted from his own, stung by the memories she had slammed shut, locked the door, swallowed the key. her expression became slowly sombre, and she once again spoke, her voice a quiet soprano. " and perhaps ..." she moved closer, to the point where her smooth face tilted a heartbeat from his own. " this is yours?". from the seam of her chiffon, she removed the dagger, pausing the blade underneath his stubbled chin. the tip grazed his throat softly, orgasmically. the slender ore was warmed from her own body heat, and she traced the line of his jaw with child-like precision. the velvet fleck of silver in her left eye flickered dangerously. smiling, she lowered the dagger to his large hands, offering the metallic instrument daintily in her own flawless appendage. her smile had an unguarded sorrow, a stable unease though her face was serenely composed, both porcelain and olive at once. her amber eyes were prettily sedate, a smooth butterscotch in the charcoal abyss.



notes; knifey knife xD
word count; 919! can i hear a HELLZYEAH?
inspiration; watched a re-run of the dark night, the joker's personality is utterly contagious.

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[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Sir. as to your concern of my apparent singularity, I must inform you that I'm perfectly able to defend myself against distasteful men" Cedric smirked at those words of hers. "Of course my lady, forgive me for my error." He stared hungrily at the dignified beauty of her beautifully created face, thoughts of desire echoing in his distracted mind.

"and" He listened with the smirk still curled about his lips like a snake. "Perhaps this conversation may be ... continued, at an inn of your choosing. as of such I have no current home to return to in battonia." His thoughts returned to the current, and his lips curved upwards in a knowing grin. No home in Battonia? Good thing. His gray eyes turned gentle for a moment, but as always, they turned cold, and hateful as his thoughts again wandered to the demented woman he had to call queen. Yet again he had to force his mind back to reality. "Ah, I am sorry for my.. distraction. I have much on my mind." What had the maiden spoke of? Somewhere to continue the conversation? Yes.. yes, that must have been it. "I know of a place."

He sighed, pushing strands of the black hair back, the grey eyes glinting like a blade in the dim light of Battonia. Cedric remembered back to the task he was to complete. Kill the man known here as Merihen of Galdern. Do not return until his blood stains the very flesh on your bones. The words of Rhiannon drifted through his mind in a whisper, and he thought back to only moments ago when he had thrown his dagger blindly into the dark alley. He knew the man had fled, unharmed. He would be punished for being unable to kill the 'vermin', and it would take days to track him successfully in this city. He pushed the thoughts to the back of his head, saving the trouble for later.

"and perhaps ..." Cedric caught his breath quietly as she moved closer to him, her smooth face utterly beautiful. His mouth was a tight line, his body tense. He found it unbelievably difficult.. so difficult to keep himself from running his fingers along the godesses cheek. To touch her... the idea could not be fully formulated in his mind. He could not believe that his want- no, his need, could ever be fulfilled. "this is yours?" He smiled brilliantly, gentleness returning to his sad eyes, but as she ran the blade along the underside of his chin, he closed his eyes, swallowing away his desire. Cedric opened his eyes, no longer smiling. "It is indeed mine lady." He took the dagger she offered to him gently, as if the slightest touch would shatter her. As if she were made of glass and he was a rock being thrown to break her. "Thank you." He caught her scent for a moment, and tensed, calming himself. It had been long years since a woman had held such.. power over him. The memory of Rhiannon's face was begining to dim in his thoughts. How could she compare to such a woman.

"I am Cedric, my lady." He shifted, taking a hesitant step back. He would not have her think of him as all other men who would gladly take advantage of her in such a position. "I beg you.. what might your name be?" Cedric wanted desprately to know her name. To let it dance around his head as a song. He must know, or he would slowly loose his humanity, turning into the very thing he feared becoming. He played with the knife in his hands, slowly becoming unaware of its presence there.

Cedric studied her face carefully, taking in every detail no matter how small or unnoticable it seemed. There, and in her shining eyes he saw a lingering sadness, but he dared not quesion the manner of her sorrow. Often had such emotions been trouble for him in the past. The women of Battonia were cruel and hateful, always pushing him away. He had been kinder then, but as they continued pushing him to the brink of his sanity, he swore off the women, turning in a completely different direction whenever he spotted a female even if they began to pursue him. Until, that is, he started to notice Rhiannon. This maiden was different. Cedric felt as if she too held sorrow in her heart, unwilling or unable to rid herself of it. Perhaps he was mistaken.. His heart reached for her, but Cedric thought it better to remain seemingly oblivious. He remembered her request... an inn. He would find her such once he knew her name. Once he knew, he would be able to do many a thing once again.


{Word Count: 793}
{Notes: I'm.. a little scared of Cedric right now. Seems like he's getting a little... attached to her. o.O He's run off on me.}

[Kiaraá]

KIA

[/size][/font]RAÁ[/b][/size][/color] [/font]
baby I can feel your halo , pray it won't fade away![/center][/color][/size]

"Ah, I am sorry for my.. distraction. I have much on my mind." a small, hesitant smile curved at the heart of kiaraa's thin lips. " indeed " she murmured softly, so softly it went almost unheard. the man, to his own benefit, did in fact look somewhat withdrawn. it drew a sort of mystery to him, like an electric current hissing beneath his skin. his brow was curiously furrowed and bent, trying to smother his apparent desire from an omniscient party. her smile faltered. she'd presumed, foolishly, he had no stings tied. but then again, dark tall strangers in small cramped alleyways weren't always so ... untainted. "I know of a place." commented the stranger tediously, his husky voice barely cramming into the small space there was to exhale. a cool smile replaced the sacristy of emotion on her face, her heart-shaped face inclining slightly, acknowledging this feat. if looks could kill, she would have murdered this infernal pit six times before it hit the ground. she could, in the least, do with some rum.

for some time, the stranger stood motionless against the haze of crumbled bricks, silent. his beautiful grey eyes - no, she would not think of them - were narrowed, once again drifting to some place kiaraa wished she could touch, reach, penetrate. finally, her took the knife from her hands, his flesh never grazing hers. he mumbled something unintelligible, some claim of bitter ownership, before folding his hands around it, twisting it mindlessly. "Thank you." he added, softly. her dark lashes fluttered, warmth creeping into her body. "welcome" she replied, in an even softer tone, flashing her small white teeth in a flattered smile. he seemingly did not hear the words, his soulful eyes darkening and bristled mouth folding into a grimace. her own amber eyes flashed. it seemed her every action provoked an aroused reaction to whoever held this man's bleeding heart in their upturned palms. a painful feeling splintered in her lungs, as if her oxygen had turned to lead. she shot him distraught, exasperated look.

"I am Cedric, my lady." kiaraa's shoulders tensed, pushing the blue lace coldly against her bare flesh. her stature was almost predatory, a regal lioness amongst the filth of Battonia. the suddenly proclamation had stunned her. her amber eyes searched his, bemused. "Cedric" she tested, the name sweetening her tongue. her soprano voice barely left an echo. the stranger opened his mouth, pulsing the dimples that arched his wasted chin. "I beg you.. what might your name be?". her brow raised, high, but in good humor. his seemingly random interest and sudden disinterest had begun to vex her, but her patience held, if only in sarcasm. she paused, flashing a hesitant smile toward him. "my name is Kiaraa" she admitted, simply. the name imposed no particular importance, no specific rank or wealth. it was an old name, though she had survived almost a hundred years without someone remarking on its apparent vintage. personally, she regarded names like aging wine. the older they came, the more ... personality they encumbered.

"Kiaraa of Taurë Menel" . it was, in the least, risky to admit her heritage so backhandedly, but she felt he would not betray her identity, perhaps not even consciously acknowledge it. mortals rarely set their seething eyes of the realm of her people, though they were often wise of it by songs and sultry poetry, whispering of the silver leaves that hung in decedent harmony above the fragrance of the earth. indeed, it had once been her home. she doubted she would return. memories were cunning things. some were plainly innocent, the smell of a mothers warm skin, the sensation of heat from wanton beams of dappled light. and there were those not so innocent, not so peaceful. memories of a man's laughter, his voice, so silken the air seemed too heavy for its masculine chords. memories that kiaraa refused to touch her. they were not her memories, they were nightmares. they broke her mind, rotted her soul, physically able to beat her, to make her bleed. "i need a drink." mumbled kiaraa darkly, pausing to wink as light heartedly as she could to cedric.


notes; i may have to snuggle cedric. he's sort of my own personal sex god.
word count; 701. blergh. i want to die.
inspiration; the lion king. rawr, ima lion D:<

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[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"My name is Kiaraa" Kiaraa.. He smiled, not bothering to speak the name aloud. It seemed too holy to speak in the hell that was Battonia. "Kiaraa of Taurë Menel" So, the maiden was an Elf? Cedric kept his expression calm, a smile even beginning on his lips. It was a dangerous thing for an Elf to be in this city. Especially since she was of Taurë Menel.. Then again, if she was one of the 'fallen Elves', perhaps death would not find her much excitement in her.

The Elves had always been a mystery to Cedric when he was a child. The tales of magic and immorality were once too difficult for his undeveloped mind to wrap around. What child could imagine such things in a city full of old and illness? Becoming Rhiannon's errand boy had brought him many opportunities. Traveling to far off lands he had not even dreampt of visiting, wealth, high ranking.. the list went on, but Cedric did not often ponder the benefits of his position, only the down side.

"I need a drink." Cedric relaxed, feeling more comfortable with the idea of getting off the streets. The man gasped quietly in surprise as the tip of his blade slid in and across his thumb. A fool's mistake. He slide the weapon into his belt, and bit his lower lip in thought. What tavern had he been thinking of earlier? The name escaped him, but he knew the location. "Come, I know a good tavern." He waited until he heard her footsteps, and continued on down the street.

The inn stood with its ominous facade, drunkards staggering out with women attached to both sides of them who Cedric identified as the employees of a brothel a few streets away from the tavern. At times a man with two more muscular men throwing them out of the inn, spitting on them and laughing.. there were foul words exchanged between the men and the drunk. Cedric grumbled when a clearly intoxicated woman fell at his feet, smiling and laughing, attempting to flirt with him. A man, who must have been her lover, walking towards her. Cedric could practically see the hate radiating off him in waves, his brown eyes locked on Cedric, but he stopped when he spotted the Elf maiden next to him. His eyes filled with lust, and Cedric picked the woman up off the ground, dumping her in the man's arm. "Go." The man's brown eyes darted down to see the sword in scabbard at Cedric's side. "Keep her in line." He muttered, and pressed several silver coins into his hands. Better to bribe than to start a fight. The man nodded several times, grinning at the money and woman hanging on his shoulders.

Cedric sighed, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead wearily. "It is not as bad inside as it is out." He held the door open for Kiaraa, stepping inside behind her, closing the heavy wooden door with ease. He shrugged his cloak on more, choosing a seat at the end of the bar. If she choose to sit elsewhere, he would follow, not out of lust but out of need to protect her. She had said she could take care of herself, but he doubted she could handle a whole tavern full of big, burly men.

A low grumble escaped the back of his throat, and he slipped a pipe between his lips, only to pull it out again and blow smoke out of his mouth, causing the air to become even thicker with dull, gray curtains of smoke. He watched in silence as the smoke drifted around people and as they took it in, ruining their lungs just a bit more with each breath. A crooked grin dominated his face for a moment, the pipe lighting his face up again, as the light faded from his hood, so did the grin. He would not drink too much. He had to keep watch for Merihen of Galdern. The man was not hard to spot. There was plenty about him that was easy to identify. The scars, the slightly curved sword, his short, red hair.

"Just ale for me." He spoke somewhat kindly to the barkeeper, turning to Kiaraa in question. "I will pay for yours." It was more a command than a casual 'Hey, do you want me to pay for your drink!?' "Have whatever you please." The barman's eyes shone as he stared at the Elf maiden. Cedric placed the pipe between his lips again, thinking quietly to himself.


{Word Count: 758 I think.. eh -.-}
{Notes: He's not smoking tobacco or anything. It's just something... Ergh.. .-. I didn't mean to make him a smoker! I swear! He only does it like once or five times a month anyway....}

[Kiaraá]

KIA

[/size][/font]RAÁ[/b][/size][/color] [/font]
baby I can feel your halo , pray it won't fade away![/center][/color][/size]

cedric's smile stirred a sedate bemusement in kiaraa's limbs. his roguish features did not often allow for such a display of blissful emotion, made apparent by his now expressionless face, almost grey in the putrid light. they stood, studying each other for some amount of time, silver upon gold. a faint nostalgia seemed to wash over him, and his face darkened. ah. the lady. such a hold she posed over him, to be thought of so ... diligently. her lips tightened round her pointed teeth. "Come, I know a good tavern." he muttered, finally. his large frame seemed almost to gawkish to move in the infernal crack of wall, but he seemed to manage, his agile footing disturbing slumbering dust on the alley floor. kiaraa managed a half smile, her small body stretching, before following him wistfully through the piles of garbage and rats, which were built larger than the rather desperately friendly population of cats. the gloom of the alley stretched out meekly before her blue hem, as if attempting to snag the she-elf on a ripple of speckled darkness.

the sudden illumination of the sickly green sunlight did not ease her spirits. the streets were as unmercifully sour as the the darkened realms of sidewalks, though perhaps a little less touched by the wilderness. the pavement was not deserted, either. the couples were mainly drunks, addicted to the frothy discolored brew that made them forget their imperfections, their disappointments. it eased their weary minds and rotting souls, made their tongues loose and fists at ease. nothing brought mortals so close to animals as ale. a girl, no older than fifteen, laughed giddily as a man thrice her age attempted to remove her blouse greedily, his cassocked hands stroking her soft brown flesh. kiaraa swore coldly, moving closer to cedric. finally, the inn loomed towards them at an uneven angle. the paint had once been merry, cobalt blue against cream, but since those days the paint had turned a moldy green, and had began to peel furiously. the sign above it announced some sort of dancing animal. she eyed the scene dubiously, before sighing.

she pulled her long cloak over the slant of her forehead, so only the thin outlines of her heart shaped face could be clearly observed. cedric made his way unhurriedly through the unintelligible couples, her own slightly frame never more than a step behind. her amber eyes became strangely cold, as the intoxicated woman clung to cedric's boots, snorting incoherent words. kiaraa noted the apparent lover of such a woman, studying his confused, prominent brow and disorientated expression warily. as he neared, he beady eyes narrowed angrily, finding his whore basking herself against another man's upper thigh. he stumbled forth lazily, swinging his tightened fists from side to side in an agitated waddle. the she-elf pressed her dainty hand against her dagger, moving in a small stride to her companion's arm. she studied the woman for a second, disdainfully. she had a hooked nose, strangely masculine on such a small face. her eyes would have been pretty, perhaps even stunning, if her pupils were not so dilated the jade green depths could scarcely be seen. she leered at kiaraa drunkenly.

the man stopped three paces away, cautiously observing cedric before his reddened eyes fell on her. they undressed her, mocked her, and repulsed her all at once. her amber eyes settled into an unnerving glare. in a smooth manner of movement, cedric briskly plucked the woman's plump frame from the gravel, placing her mindlessly in the drunkards drooping arms. he seemed to sway for a second, before steading himself. cedric mumbled something to the man, the words inaudible above the babble that came from the printed orange and blue glass windows. "It is not as bad inside as it is out." reported cedric, his strong thin hand flinging the cast iron enforced door open. the humming of multiple conversations attacked her quivering ears, hidden beneath the silken mass of thin cloak that draped over her small chiffon. her caramel hair fell over over her left shoulder, teasing the side of her face with its fragrant tendrils. "could have fooled me" she retorted darkly, before entering into the abyss of curling smoke.

the door closed softly behind her, and she nodded in appreciation to cedric, managing a smile on his behalf. he settled at the very last booth, his shape hard to distinguish from the shadows. kiaraa followed, conscious of male eyes following the even movements of her thighs and bosom. their attentions lapsed as she settled neatly into the fold of the rustic bench, her eyes studying the grey depths that reminded her solemnly of a restless storm. his attentions seemed, once more, somewhere else. he searched for someone, a disappointed expression clouding his moderately handsome features. she resisted to urge to probe his mind for what she seeked. her powers had to be used with ... caution. her telepathy was at a laughable level, nothing like the true masters of the art, but enough to blur the lines. instead, she settled to calm him, ease him somewhat. empathy wasn't thought of as a power at all, but more of a ... certain charisma toward mortals. her thoughts emptied as the bartender approached them wearily, the strong crevasses of age etching lines on his fair skin.

"Just ale for me." started cedric, the warmth of his voice towards the host causing kiaraa's brow to, for the fifth time that day, arch considerably. "I will pay for yours." he said kindly, though it was more a bark of an order than a legitimate flirt. she nodded cooly, offering a half-hearted smile to the bartender. he lowered his eyes in response, the corners of his lips twitching contagiously. "an ale for me too, if you please" she growled politely, the bright warmth of her eyes glowing against the contrast of smoke and dankness. he replied, but took no heed of it, watching his long stride as he crossed the room. they sat in silence, her decidedly bored gaze watching the smoke billow gracefully from the root of his pipe. she opened her mouth, then decided otherwise. she paused, before, with as much subtly as she could, asking "who is she?". the question really didn't need any specifics. even now his mind wasn't with her, she could sense that. it was occupied, perhaps even guilty, like a child sneaking a bonbon from a local store.

the silence that followed as almost unbearable. the chatter didn't become softer, it became louder, till her ears began to ache from the screams and laughter. the smack of the filled mugs shook her, and she relieved herself of a warning gaze to the clumsy fool, the serving boy, who had already tottered over to another table, and was peering down a girls knotted chiffon. she drank the ale quietly, and as detachedly as she could manage. the pale liquid tasted almost sweet on her lips, the froth tickling the back of her throat slightly. she stirred it absentmindedly with her pinkie, watching contently as a small whirlpool gathered in the center of the beer. the real question was, whats wrong with me? but that sounded too attached to this stranger, to even kiaraa's ears. what spell has she wound on you, my poor lonely angel? why must your hands be so cold and empty? kiaraa stopped herself. no, no she could never do that. she could never fill his hands. it was her own curse to bear. she couldn't give him what he would undoubtedly want in the end. she could show him her world, show him the forests of her hometown. but then what?

he would grow old. his face would become rich with the lines that plagued the elderly. his sweet clean skin would grow stiff and old. slowly, her hand would be more distinguishable from his, pure olive against his crumpling hands. he would die. he would die, and then she would be alone again. even more alone then before. empty, perhaps. more broken than she already was. cedric would grow old. and she wouldn't. to what point could they be together, before they presumed he was her father, her grandfather? of course, she would still love him, but it wasn't fair to him. he deserved to live with someone who could grow old like him. to die with him, to breathe their final breath in harmony with his, to die in the warmth of his arms. kiaraa's breathing became uneven in distress. her hand stopped stirring, instead curling around the rim. she took a generously gulp of the liquid, winching as it burned the back of her throat with its alcoholic harshness.

time passed. she wasn't aware that he answered her question, only that her vision was blurred. she was aware that she was now leaning towards him, and her soft lips brushed his gently, breathing the alcohol into him. her amber eyes studied his somberly. "come" she whispered, drawing his hands around her own. she paused at the barkeep, spilling thirty assorted coins from her small green purse. he nodded discreetly towards the room, ignoring the tip of her breast which left almost nothing to the imagination beneath the innocence of lace. kiaraa lead cedric up the stairs, pausing at the staircase to brush her lips against his. she hadn't felt any hesitance, but she was very, very drunk, and perhaps he'd been wailing and screaming as her soft hands lead him coyly towards the small room. she paused to breath, arching her body towards his, her thin stomach resting against the hardness of his carved muscles.


notes; ehehehe
word count; 1606. i'm a robot.
inspiration; dr who, the very last episode of the tenth doctor. made me cry.

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[Arlenwa Nenharma]

"Come." His heart stumbled at the word, and his hand tightened around his mug. "What?" His voice managed to only grow to a whisper before her soft lips touched his. He shivered. Did she mean to leave the tavern? When he saw the coins tumbling out of her purse to the barkeep, he tensed. Just how drunk had he got her? Cedric's heart beat loudly. She couldn't do this to him.. Make him... His mind shut down briefly at the thought. "My lady," he insisted, pulling her hands away from him, trying to hold her back. He felt the maiden's stomach pressing into him, and he moved to the side. He had had only one drink, but why had he not been keeping track of her?

The man picked her up, ignoring anything she dared try on him. Don't think about her.. don't think about anything. The words echoed in his mind as if they were the only thing he could hear or think. He opened the door with a little trouble, staggering as he moved towards the bed. He set her down gently, hesitating as he began to retreat from temptation. Lady, what possessed you to drink so much?! His mind reeled, hands pressing into his face until places of skin began to turn white with frustration. Could Elves become intoxicated? Cedric could not recall any legends of them ever being drunk.. Perhaps it was because they never had the mind to? Or, if they did, they did it in secret. But now- now there was reason for drinking.

Cedric lifted his face from his hands, looking over at the Elf maiden. She was so beautiful.. Her face bewitched him. Such divine beauty could have never been imagined in Cedric's poor, mortal mind. Maybe he had no reason to create the image of a beautiful woman in his head? No, that was not it. Women were a way of getting rid of terrible lust or just for pleasure for most men. Cedric could not be innocent of that. He had done... such terrible things before. His gray eyes glazed over as he stared, motionless. What made now any different? She was throwing herself at him and he hesitated?! Act like a man Cedric! Do it! She wants you to.. Hesitantly, Cedric moved towards Ki- he wouldn't think her name. He moved towards the female, watching her hungrily. Like a starved dog eyeing the scraps on the table left by his master. . . It would have made him sick if Cedric realised what he was doing.

He left his sword and belt on the floor, and whatever else was left on his body until it was clothed merely by long pants and a shirt that hung loosely from his shoulders, a long opening nearly severing the fabric in two. The dull light from a candle on a table in the corner illuminated his carved chest, his gray eyes glinting like cold steel, hinting at his pain that seemed distant to him in this moment, black hair falling around his face in messy waves. Cedric. . . Do this for me, and you will be rewarded. Kill Merihen of Galdern.. Kill him. The queen's voice barely registered in his mind. She could not take everything he wanted from him. No, tonight he would get something he wanted.

Cedric crawled into the bed, slipping her clothes from the glorious curves of her body. She was his, and his only... if only for tonight.


And like the evil one I am;

SCREEN FADES TO BLACK


Morning


Slowly, his lids fluttered open to reveal the gray steel pooling in the center of Cedric's eyes. He remembered warmth.. and a woman. "Kiaraa.." The name left a pleasant tingling on his tongue, and he propped himself up on his elbows, muscles quite visible beneath his skin as he moved. He remembered the maiden. Divine in every way. Slowly, his head turned to see the empty place beside him. A quiet groan of despair rumbled in his chest. He had lost her. She was probably horrified at what had been done to her. Guilt flooded him, making him feel weak as if he were an aged man.

How could you have allowed this to happen Cedric? Stay away from women this long only to destroy one? Tsk tsk.. A man's sickening voice was loud in his head. A man he had met long, long ago. Who? The voice... So familiar. Merihen of Galdern! Yes. He knew this man somehow. He had raised him from such a young age, and Cedric remembered him. Kill the man known here as Merihen of Galdern. Do not return until his blood stains the very flesh on your bones. Now the queen's voice echoed in his mind. Cedric cried out as if he were in pain. He was to kill him. How cruel life was to the poor man.

"My name is Kiaraa" Cedric's thoughts would now always return to her.. Always... "Kiaraa of Taurë Menel" The man quickly dressed, paying the innkeeper and stormed briskly out of the inn. Hurt her. Hurt her. You hurt her Cedric!



{Word Count: 839}
{Notes: Eh.. Me no like this post. Not too great.}