No. 18... methinks I like this one.
May. 22nd, 2003 12:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessHopefully they’ll stay on track, but I guarantee nothing... Rick’s not behaving.
Rick: Well duh, isn’t it time for some slash again?
*sigh* I’m going to write some celibate characters one of these days.
Rick: Like not having sex is gonna make them less likely to ask for it.
It’s taken me the best part of three hours, but I am ready. The night is deep and strong, the darkness high and absolute. Even with my eyes closed I can sense the shadows coating the city, I can feel the darkness that no light can push back. Feel the pulse of millions of humans around their electric lights, fragile shields against the endless darkness that presses down.
I breath it in, and feel more power burn down every vein. My near constant meditation for the past few days, searching for answers I can only find in Rick’s arms will now serve it use. A foundation for me to hold on to. I look at Rick. I need him now, more than he will ever know. He will be my anchor. If I fail... he will die. And the city with him, more likely than not. He does not know what he has asked. He does not know what he wants me to do. But he asked, and I cannot refuse him.
I look at the cat laid on the floor in the middle of the circle. It stares balefully at me with cold, metallic eyes. So dangerous, yet so small, so fragile, so delicate... I will take a familiar... My throat is dry, I cannot clear it. My breath is coming too fast. I clutch Rick’s hand. I need this, I need his anchor.
He looks at me, confused. He truly doesn’t know what’s coming. Can he understand it? Should I tell him? No. If he is to die here, my telling him will only fill his last moments with worry.
I cannot resist, I lean forwards, pull him close and kiss him, hard and desperate. If this is the night when it ends, I will fall with the feel of Rick’s lips on mine. I can see worry in his eyes now. He’s beginning to see he’s in dangerous territory. Too late. Far too late.
I pull off my shirt, throw it clear of the circle, the pentacle, the candles and other, far less identifiable accoutrements that surround my future soul mate. I stand, pull off my socks, quickly followed by my trousers, and throw them after the shirt. Rick looks shocked. His eyes beginning to heat...
“Darren, what the fuck...?” I cut him off, one delicate touch to his lips, and shake my head, ever so slightly.
I pull off my gloves, and throw to the corner. I am left naked but for my silk boxer shorts... and the wards. Glinting silver round my neck, on delicate chains around my wrists. Colourful entwined patterns encircling my wrists, neck and ankles, inked into my skin shine like jewels. Rubies emeralds and sapphires set in the pure pearl of my skin.
I reach back and unfasten my hair from it’s loose silver catch. Rick gasps as it falls full and heavy around me, like a cloak that reaches my ankles, flowing like water in the growing currents of my power. I rub my neck as the clasp pulls away, rubbing at the brand left there. Rick blinks as the clasp lands on the floor with a bright, ringing sound. A pentacle. A ward he hadn’t seen before, nestled against the back of my neck. I smile, and I can almost see Rick’s pulse quicken in response. He swallows convulsively and stares at me like a drowning man, as I stand, pale and nearly naked. Bathed, framed and teasingly veiled by a velvet wash of my hair, glinting silver and vibrant colour from my wards in beautiful contrast to the shocking black and white of my natural colour. His eyes burn hotter than fires every could.
He blinks again, shock pushing aside lust, as I reach up, and unclasp the ward around my neck. It falls to the floor, by my hair clasp. The amulet hits the ground with a thud of a heavy weight, the chain rattles down like the shackles of a tortured spirit. The powers swells. My smile grows.
I pull at the chain on my left wrist with my right hand. I find the clasp. The ward falls free, my hand flexes, it feels like muscles long unused finally moving, finally strong again. The ward on my right hand soon follows, pooling onto the floor with the other torturous restraints. I throw back my head and luxuriate in the freedom of it. My hair flies on invisible winds, surrounding me in a floating halo of ebony darkness.
Rick swallows, paralysed to the spot, his eyes reflecting a war of terror and unbridled lust that pins him helpless to the floor.
I bend, every motion, liquid, fluid, inhuman. I move as if gravity fears to touch me, as if my form were clay I could shape to my every whim. I pick up the knife, long and gleaming silver. Black gleaming runes flare to malevolent life along its length, turn the hilt to fire captured in obsidian. I raise it up, to my neck.
Rick chokes, he reaches out one hand, desperate, begging. His voice mute, his throat too dry. I feel his panic beat against my skin like birds dying in the darkness.
I lay the blade against my skin, and pull it down, sharp and quick. The blade sharper than any razor slices through my skin, down my neck, across the ward tattoo.
The ward flares, glows, painting the room in beautiful iridescent shadows, then dies; those awesome colours eaten by the black runes of the knife. The wound closes, shining with a dark light as the lips seal.
I lower the knife to my left wrist. The ward flares in panic, the knife utters a silent scream of hate as another binding is severed. The wound closes. With a deft flick the blade mercilessly slices through the right ward, the resistance paltry. The power burns through me, my eyes bleed to black pools of infinite death gleaming with a terrible power. My blood rushes like acidic rapids. MY power flows through the room, filling it, consuming it, spilling over and through the building, the block, the neighbourhood. I feel it coruscated outwards as delicate, as strong as a spider web, and far more dangerous.
Rick can sense it. He cowers back, still nailed to the spot, but shaking with a fear he cannot control. He looks at me as if I were the end of all he holds dear... and as if I were his last light in the darkness.
I bend, knife flickering in my hand, howling for me to finish it. The ankle wards fall, the lights consumed, their power lost.
I am free.
The power billows outwards, thick and powerful as the sea, I feel it blanket the whole city, an invisible wave of darkness that holds death in its eddies. I smile and watch as Rick’s eyes widen, wild and terrified. He’s near passing out through terror. I drink in his fear, and love it, luxuriate in every pulse of mind numbing dread that flows off him.
I laugh. It echoes from the room, out over the city, and I know all that breathes within its aegis hears the echo of my laugh, and trembles slightly in unknown dread. This is power. This is strength beyond knowing. No wonder people fear sorcerers, arrogant little creatures, they rightly fear when gods walk among men.
I lash out, faster than a snake, and catch Rick’s wrist. He looks up at me, eyes wide and lost. A whimper squeezes out between his lips, panicked and broken. If he is lost, then so am I. If he is lost, we are all doomed.
“Rick! Rick! Snap out of it! I need you here. You are my anchor! You are my heart!! I’m loosing it Rick!!!”
The power burns through me. How could I be so weak?! How could I care for these maggots, these pathetic mewling creatures! They are slaves, animals! No, they are toys, tools, mere objects that I can make, use or break at my slightest whim. They have no higher purpose. They are capable of no higher purpose. They should fall on their knees and beg with all their pathetic souls to be worthy of worshipping me!
“RICK! HELP ME!!!
I feel my legs begin to collapse, the darkness roiling upwards roaring in savage victory. My defences collapse. I am one with the darkness. I am darkness....
There is a light, a burning pulsing against me, pushing against the darkness, forcing it back. A power the great roiling blackness cannot fight, cannot face. A spark of purity among the darkness that cannot be extinguished.
I blink my eyes, and Rick’s lips are pressed to mine. I feel him like a burning touch, a fierce light you have to shield your eyes against. An actinic flare that sears and blinds. It hits the darkness and it falls back.
I clutch Rick to me and ride the darkness. I hold him and tame the power, enslave it to the strength of the light.
I look down at the cat, routed to the sport and following our every move with those cold golden orbs. I draw the darkness up, and funnel it through the runes wound round in mind boggling patterns on the floor. I feel it pour down the channels, fill spiritual reservoirs, then funnel to the centre. To the cat.
It throws back its head, it’s fur standing on end and crackling with black lightning. Its eyes close. It hisses. It opens its eyes.
"I am Ahrimadan. As I am summoned, so I do come. My soul to yours, my heart with yours, my mind in yours. To serve unto oblivion. Thus is our treaty made; Darren ap Camaalis"
Rick: Well duh, isn’t it time for some slash again?
*sigh* I’m going to write some celibate characters one of these days.
Rick: Like not having sex is gonna make them less likely to ask for it.
It’s taken me the best part of three hours, but I am ready. The night is deep and strong, the darkness high and absolute. Even with my eyes closed I can sense the shadows coating the city, I can feel the darkness that no light can push back. Feel the pulse of millions of humans around their electric lights, fragile shields against the endless darkness that presses down.
I breath it in, and feel more power burn down every vein. My near constant meditation for the past few days, searching for answers I can only find in Rick’s arms will now serve it use. A foundation for me to hold on to. I look at Rick. I need him now, more than he will ever know. He will be my anchor. If I fail... he will die. And the city with him, more likely than not. He does not know what he has asked. He does not know what he wants me to do. But he asked, and I cannot refuse him.
I look at the cat laid on the floor in the middle of the circle. It stares balefully at me with cold, metallic eyes. So dangerous, yet so small, so fragile, so delicate... I will take a familiar... My throat is dry, I cannot clear it. My breath is coming too fast. I clutch Rick’s hand. I need this, I need his anchor.
He looks at me, confused. He truly doesn’t know what’s coming. Can he understand it? Should I tell him? No. If he is to die here, my telling him will only fill his last moments with worry.
I cannot resist, I lean forwards, pull him close and kiss him, hard and desperate. If this is the night when it ends, I will fall with the feel of Rick’s lips on mine. I can see worry in his eyes now. He’s beginning to see he’s in dangerous territory. Too late. Far too late.
I pull off my shirt, throw it clear of the circle, the pentacle, the candles and other, far less identifiable accoutrements that surround my future soul mate. I stand, pull off my socks, quickly followed by my trousers, and throw them after the shirt. Rick looks shocked. His eyes beginning to heat...
“Darren, what the fuck...?” I cut him off, one delicate touch to his lips, and shake my head, ever so slightly.
I pull off my gloves, and throw to the corner. I am left naked but for my silk boxer shorts... and the wards. Glinting silver round my neck, on delicate chains around my wrists. Colourful entwined patterns encircling my wrists, neck and ankles, inked into my skin shine like jewels. Rubies emeralds and sapphires set in the pure pearl of my skin.
I reach back and unfasten my hair from it’s loose silver catch. Rick gasps as it falls full and heavy around me, like a cloak that reaches my ankles, flowing like water in the growing currents of my power. I rub my neck as the clasp pulls away, rubbing at the brand left there. Rick blinks as the clasp lands on the floor with a bright, ringing sound. A pentacle. A ward he hadn’t seen before, nestled against the back of my neck. I smile, and I can almost see Rick’s pulse quicken in response. He swallows convulsively and stares at me like a drowning man, as I stand, pale and nearly naked. Bathed, framed and teasingly veiled by a velvet wash of my hair, glinting silver and vibrant colour from my wards in beautiful contrast to the shocking black and white of my natural colour. His eyes burn hotter than fires every could.
He blinks again, shock pushing aside lust, as I reach up, and unclasp the ward around my neck. It falls to the floor, by my hair clasp. The amulet hits the ground with a thud of a heavy weight, the chain rattles down like the shackles of a tortured spirit. The powers swells. My smile grows.
I pull at the chain on my left wrist with my right hand. I find the clasp. The ward falls free, my hand flexes, it feels like muscles long unused finally moving, finally strong again. The ward on my right hand soon follows, pooling onto the floor with the other torturous restraints. I throw back my head and luxuriate in the freedom of it. My hair flies on invisible winds, surrounding me in a floating halo of ebony darkness.
Rick swallows, paralysed to the spot, his eyes reflecting a war of terror and unbridled lust that pins him helpless to the floor.
I bend, every motion, liquid, fluid, inhuman. I move as if gravity fears to touch me, as if my form were clay I could shape to my every whim. I pick up the knife, long and gleaming silver. Black gleaming runes flare to malevolent life along its length, turn the hilt to fire captured in obsidian. I raise it up, to my neck.
Rick chokes, he reaches out one hand, desperate, begging. His voice mute, his throat too dry. I feel his panic beat against my skin like birds dying in the darkness.
I lay the blade against my skin, and pull it down, sharp and quick. The blade sharper than any razor slices through my skin, down my neck, across the ward tattoo.
The ward flares, glows, painting the room in beautiful iridescent shadows, then dies; those awesome colours eaten by the black runes of the knife. The wound closes, shining with a dark light as the lips seal.
I lower the knife to my left wrist. The ward flares in panic, the knife utters a silent scream of hate as another binding is severed. The wound closes. With a deft flick the blade mercilessly slices through the right ward, the resistance paltry. The power burns through me, my eyes bleed to black pools of infinite death gleaming with a terrible power. My blood rushes like acidic rapids. MY power flows through the room, filling it, consuming it, spilling over and through the building, the block, the neighbourhood. I feel it coruscated outwards as delicate, as strong as a spider web, and far more dangerous.
Rick can sense it. He cowers back, still nailed to the spot, but shaking with a fear he cannot control. He looks at me as if I were the end of all he holds dear... and as if I were his last light in the darkness.
I bend, knife flickering in my hand, howling for me to finish it. The ankle wards fall, the lights consumed, their power lost.
I am free.
The power billows outwards, thick and powerful as the sea, I feel it blanket the whole city, an invisible wave of darkness that holds death in its eddies. I smile and watch as Rick’s eyes widen, wild and terrified. He’s near passing out through terror. I drink in his fear, and love it, luxuriate in every pulse of mind numbing dread that flows off him.
I laugh. It echoes from the room, out over the city, and I know all that breathes within its aegis hears the echo of my laugh, and trembles slightly in unknown dread. This is power. This is strength beyond knowing. No wonder people fear sorcerers, arrogant little creatures, they rightly fear when gods walk among men.
I lash out, faster than a snake, and catch Rick’s wrist. He looks up at me, eyes wide and lost. A whimper squeezes out between his lips, panicked and broken. If he is lost, then so am I. If he is lost, we are all doomed.
“Rick! Rick! Snap out of it! I need you here. You are my anchor! You are my heart!! I’m loosing it Rick!!!”
The power burns through me. How could I be so weak?! How could I care for these maggots, these pathetic mewling creatures! They are slaves, animals! No, they are toys, tools, mere objects that I can make, use or break at my slightest whim. They have no higher purpose. They are capable of no higher purpose. They should fall on their knees and beg with all their pathetic souls to be worthy of worshipping me!
“RICK! HELP ME!!!
I feel my legs begin to collapse, the darkness roiling upwards roaring in savage victory. My defences collapse. I am one with the darkness. I am darkness....
There is a light, a burning pulsing against me, pushing against the darkness, forcing it back. A power the great roiling blackness cannot fight, cannot face. A spark of purity among the darkness that cannot be extinguished.
I blink my eyes, and Rick’s lips are pressed to mine. I feel him like a burning touch, a fierce light you have to shield your eyes against. An actinic flare that sears and blinds. It hits the darkness and it falls back.
I clutch Rick to me and ride the darkness. I hold him and tame the power, enslave it to the strength of the light.
I look down at the cat, routed to the sport and following our every move with those cold golden orbs. I draw the darkness up, and funnel it through the runes wound round in mind boggling patterns on the floor. I feel it pour down the channels, fill spiritual reservoirs, then funnel to the centre. To the cat.
It throws back its head, it’s fur standing on end and crackling with black lightning. Its eyes close. It hisses. It opens its eyes.
"I am Ahrimadan. As I am summoned, so I do come. My soul to yours, my heart with yours, my mind in yours. To serve unto oblivion. Thus is our treaty made; Darren ap Camaalis"
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2003-05-22 04:13 pm (UTC)Ghost: I hate to say it - no, we all know that's a lie, so I say with great and almost orgasmic pleasure "I told you so"
Darren: I warned him. I tried to push him away. People constantly underestimate me. I advise against doing the same with Ahrimadan.
Thanks! I was really trying for tensions and to bring home how powerful and terrifying Darren really is - it's not just a dellusion, he IS that dangerous. But was worried that it just became wordy.
And: OOPS! Yep, he's SUPPOSED to be small and delicate, like Darren. *face palm* thank 'ee, I will edit that and name thee proof reader :)
OOPS #2: of course my spell check didn;t pick up on it, but it's a typo - it's SUPPOSED to be Ahrimadan (ah-ree-mah-dan) which sounds better IMO than Ahirmadan - which I'm not sure how I'd pronounce (Ah-heer-mah-dan?)