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Lucifers-continued!
Closer and closer the woman came, the deadly club raised as she proceeds to slide into an attacking position ,club at the ready and sword held firmly in defence as a maniacal smile spreads across her lips, her red eyes glowing with a fierce hunger in anticipation of the blood pouring from the defenceless woman kneeling in front of her, making no move to defend or giving an inclination to her position. Angel lunges, the club whistles through the air, and through the empty space that had been previously filled by Ravens head. Puzzled she looks around, just in time to see the black clad figure roll into the tall green hedges “coward!” she gives chase, her eyes scanning around her as her mind keeps a lock on Ravens position.
s**t, what can I do! Raven bolts, weaving through the hedges at a high speed, her hair whipping around her face and neck as her short black gown is shredded further by the abnormally large thorns concealed in the hedges midst, its own deadly weapon for defence. Father’s armoury! My blade is there, but how to get there with psycho following me...I know! She cuts through the hedge, heading for the tunnel for the fountain in the middle of her garden, where her old friend Tabius used to sneak through when he wanted to utilise her father’s weapons. Struggling she lifts the cover to the drain, just enough that her painfully thin frame could slip through the tiny crack and into the darkness, but not enough to allow her pursuer through.
She drops into the small gap, landing in a puddle of slippery water as she waits for her eyes to adjust to the dead, smothering darkness of the tunnel, as one ear listening in earnest for signs of Angel.
She huffs, holding onto thoughts of her beloved sleeping and his dreams as she slowly moves forward her eyes finally adapting to the poorly lit tunnel. She shivers in the damp darkness, her multitude of injuries aching from the cold. She realises with a jolt that her feet where bare, the stony ground having torn them to shreds, a sudden groan of metal in agony grasps her attention as she looks back over her shoulder at the sudden appearance of light in the dark mouldy tunnels.
s**t, she’s here and I can’t use my powers I learned that last time, it’s like a homing beacon, if I use them it’s the equivalent of me lighting up neon sighs and jumping around yelling I’m here! Best be moving on.
She starts to move faster, losing her way through the twisting winding damp tunnels her whole body clenched in pain as her body reacts to the horrible dampness and movement. To help her through the seemingly endless maze of damp tunnels she counts her unsteady breaths, one two three four ....five hundred and three, five hundred and four....
Noting the sudden rise of the tunnel as it angles up she focuses no longer on her breathing but on keeping her footing without falling back down the length of the rise, her small dress ripped and barely hanging to her aching frame. Reaching the top of the tunnel she pushes on the cover to the tunnel exhorting all the built up strength of an exhausted abused frame to move its covering just enough to allow her tortured frame through. She pulls herself up, breathing in the fresh air and pausing to allow her eyes to readjust before she had to move. She slides off the opening and heaves the covering back into place, covering the entrance in an effort to delay her pursuer.
Pushing herself to continue moving around she looks around the armoury, where she pauses waiting for the memory of where her Midsummer star blade was kept, her beloved key to the sky. She wanders purposefully through the large circular room, avoiding the glistening battle armour, the glowing katana’s, the swirling shine to the battle axes, each ones edges sharpened to a razors edge ready to sever a head at will, the weapons of her father’s armoury where not of her kind, not even the traditional swords where her weapons. Her style was more of the old styled sorcerers , she had adapted the ability to draw energy from herself, or rather from the well of raw energy within herself and manipulate it into a form or item that she could use to her own ends or to another’s. This raw energy could be put into any form or shape, be used to achieve any purpose she desired it to a technique which had taken her years to develop, though it was still in the process. Often she had glitches in it, such as her sickness which occurs occasionally and happens swiftly. The illness as she referred to it was when the sheer pressure of utilising her ‘magic’ backfired and ate into her health, wearing down her muscles, chewing through her bones and thinning her out until she becomes nothing more than a twig. It often would make her slightly insane or hysterical, so she preferred to remove herself from her friends and family, or keep herself effectively drugged.
Her slender fingers itch for the familiar feel of her beloved blade, which in truth was more than it seemed, for it was her only map and key to her starlight home. She could practically feel the icy coolness of the glowing star metals handle within her slender hands, the metal cooler than her own frosty skin. The blade itself was sharp enough that if she swung it, the target would not feel a thing, even though the blade has gone straight through their body and out the other side until the weapon was drawn from their body, and would never dull. The weapon could be shrunk at will and stored in lots of interesting places; the metal itself was an amplifier to her. If she was angry it glowed like her, though it would keep the tinge of the starry sky on a warm summer at midnight.
Abruptly she was snapped out of her reverie by the harsh sound of protesting metal as Angel smashed her way through the metal covering to the drains, hissing dangerously with every hit. Raven panics she had no weapon and no way out, the large circular room held no place to hide either. She grabs a weapon off the armoury walls and quickly familiarises herself with its weight, swinging the blade easily through the air, as she spies an Ash bow, elaborately carved. She hefts it, remembering her training with the bow, a smile curves onto her pale face as she remembers her second favourite weapon, the bow. She places it on her back alongside the large quiver full of arrows as she takes a defensive position, she was not going to be injured without injuring her attacker.
She slides into her defensive pose, sword in hand. Her positioning was masterly, in such her way that if she needed to move quickly in any direction her feet would not tangle and cost her greatly, she could move swiftly &agilely whilst keeping a sure footing. Her weapon was held in a firm grip that would allow her movement without a chance to lose her weapon of choice.
“Here little birdie birdie, here little Ravvy Ravvy, Angel wants to play with the birdie, that’s all” the heavy voice ran out, a slightly menacing ring to her gushing words. Slowly Raven circled around the room, staying just behind Angel. Angel hurls the belted up scrap of dented metal that had been the drain cover across the room, where it clanged heavily. She heaves her muscled, toned body out of the dark tunnel, her eyes rotating to the side, knowing exactly what Raven was doing “don’t be silly birdie, if I draw blood you go to Lucifers for loving! If you draw blood I just keep going to I do...Drop those toys dear, and face the facts. Your Lucifers girl, his bride to be and that is what you always will be!”She smirks, having thrown Raven off balance with the comment of being a bride, she turns swiftly, lunging through the space between them and just missing Ravens thigh by a hairs breadth.
Snapping back into focus Raven lifts up the sword and swiftly swings it in a smooth arc to protect herself, before sliding the blade up the length of her opponents to slice at Angel’s fingers, a grim feeling of satisfaction at the sharp bite of metal. Even after all these years, fathers arms remain sharp enough, his blacksmiths did well!
“Yew can’t draw blood, if yew have no head nor eyes to see!” she swiftly swings her blade from her side in an smooth arc, as her free hand goes straight for her daggers at her thigh, she throws one of the blades with unerring accuracy to thud into the rough cheek of her opponent. The action was swift enough to distract Angel, who lowers her sword to run a hand over her cheek, a bad movement to do, lowering her guard.
Using the force of the blade and its momentum, Raven swings the shimmering blade from its position at her side to lodge it firmly in Angels side, realising after it was too late that the weapon that was slick with burning blood would lodge in her side and not be removed....a costly mistake for Raven to make. Snickering loudly, Angel removes Ravens dagger from its position in her cheek with a squelch. The string of blood that clung between the dagger and the home it was reluctantly removed from splashing across the creaminess of Ravens face as Angel returned the favour, firmly stabbing the dagger through Ravens face as her own sword passed through Ravens thin frame with a sickening shriek of metal. Angel had drawn blood.
The multitude of Ravens weapons faded back to their places in the armoury as a loud gong wrings in an unholy echo through the depths of the imaginary landscape, the sensation of a world blurring into none existence hitting the bleeding Raven as she, and Angel, appear in front of the throne of Lucifer, the lord of this twisted, demented scenario. “Well done, Little Bird. You drew blood from our darkest Angel without magic! Unfortunately....that does nothing for you, Raven my sex toy. Come, It is time for our...courtesan to entertain her master!” Rising from his throne, Lucifer started to strip his elaborately designed clothes off there and then, each article of thickly woven material being handed to the multitude of creatures lining the stairs, each leaning and hissing eagerly at their master, their scantily clad forms twisting their sculptured bodies towards him in an open invitation...that was promptly denied.
Raven, her eyes filling with steady terror turned tail and ran at a dead sprint for the exit, after all she longed for no creature, man or beast to touch her save for her love, her fiancée, her Michael. Lucifer laughs seductively, “there is no escape, my dear...come....i have a present for you that is so long and hard you shall beg for more!” followed her hasty retreat as Lucifer blurred to appear, now nude infront of her. Slamming into him, Ravens frame jolted painfully as she tumbled back to the floor from the sudden impact. “Ugh, keep yewr present, go jam it in someone else, creep!” she spat in his face.
With a grim look of disdain, Lucifer stretched down to hurl Raven onto her feet only to dash a perfectly manicured hand across her face once more “feisty. Makes this more fun. Now. Onto yewr pedestal, my dear” Of course the reference was to the large circular section of raised marble where slaves were chained to the floor whilst on display, or in use, by their ‘owners’, with Ravens being in the middle of the room, dead set in front of the cold stone throne. It even held a mocking engraving of her insignia in the middle....of course the raven held a collar and Lucifers own stamp of ownership burned deeply into the wing, the mark of the owned.
Remaining silent Raven crawled her way to her pedestal and assumed the position, her normal flickering eyes once more a white film that spread to coat her features. She could of fought....but to fight was to suffer more in the long run....and that was an awfully long time in Lucifers realm. Her hands were placed by her sides, as she shakily stood up. Her slender shapely form was still heavily injured, and would be more as shortly as Lucifers hands seized her frame and possession of its length.
Turning inwards, Raven once more lost herself in memories, so deeply that she lost count of how many and just who was taking advantage of her frame as well as the numerous, continuous introduction of sharp implements to the fine smoothness of her blood stained skin as she became a toy for the various members who Lucifer rewarded. At the first bite of pain as the spiked chains twined up her frame, she completely detached inwardly.
The setting? A fine warm summer night, the stars lit the sky in a brilliant detachment of sparkling glimmers of silver light; a warm breeze blew through the open doors, carrying the soft scent of Jasmine and rose, her traditional scents, into the silky adornment of her blue draped room. The marble walls where decorated tastefully with the various images she, herself had painted. The largest being the image of Micheal De Kamris. Her Fiancée and childhood partner in crime, the image lovingly revealed his sculpted frame decked out in the black silk robe. The silky material lovingly draped over his frame, open in the front to reveal a lavish sect of white skin that was close to her own creaminess, and to reveal the small silver gothic cross inlaid with Ruby roses and twined through its very heart, the blue rose of Ravens family. Its chain was twined with strips of black leather, with small thorns sticking out at various lengths. It was in all, a lovely and distinct item of jewellery. Micheal’s long midnight hair reached the centre of his back and managed to fly erratically around his perfectly captured face, only to highlight the very deep eyes of her lover, as she had caught him.....standing against the starlight sky, with the same breeze flowing through as was now, and the same look of adorance on his face. Too bad she hadn’t seen him for a week now, in fact no one had.
The kingdom was in dismay, their beloved Little Lady was deeply disturbed, and the wedding on hold. Where had her prince gone? There was no sign of the favourite Knight of Dawn, the Prince of The Island of Sorrow, and no sign of Ravenella Ashaline De Malinisse’s happiness to be seen.
The lady herself was sitting on the soft expanse of the double bed in her suite, staring with tear filled eyes at the image of her love, “where...where are yew, My heart? Are yew safe? Why....where.....when will I see yew....i miss yew, dear heart....Oh, why did yew suddenly leave?” she was tangled in the thoughts and the sheets, the silky black sheets that the two of them had taken a strong likening to, and often had worn nothing but the sheets. Even the memory of his strong velvet hands and the sounds of lustful cries echoing through her mind made Raven blush a merry rose in the cheeks.
“ummm excuse me, miss.....milady...umm....we....have news....” the short well rounded figure of a servant come into Ravens blurry line of sight, obviously the girl had drawn the short stick and had to take on the role that none had wanted to play....News of Micheal had finally come in and it was dire, those who knew of the messages content had gravelly considered not passing it to their already struggling Lady, for it would surely crack her already shattering guard.
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