emergence - Carthad & damascus

[One]

nature's design had made her small, but experience had made her cool - arrogant - and vicious. the jar had starved most of this from her bones, had made the time she spent lucid short-lived and explosive .. she had, though, begun to learn the rhythm of things. the way the keep creaked and the howl of the drafts, the noise of his footsteps and that of his pets various. he would come when work drew him and the amusement of her seemingly shrunken fury would be ideal ..

she sat there now, studying the flow of paintbrush strokes that had blackened the jar, counting each tiny bristle's sweep. he'd long ago learned that if she could see him coming, she would arm herself. at first with splinters from the desk, and once he'd begun placing the jar upon a marble tile .. with her teeth. only his footsteps and the ambient light warned her these days. but she'd nothing but time to plot her escape .. nothing but hours, days, to consider a method. the time was coming, very soon .. when freedom would be hers once more.

the badfaerie crouched at the foot of the jar and waited. ready to memorize the quills on the desktop, the positioning of the inkpot.

*****

The footsteps wouid sound, and the reverberations heard. She wasn't roused immediately though, as instead she'd feel the crackle of magic, the rush of its energy as he'd continue his enchanting. He'd been doing a lot of that recently, so much of that pulsing energy being forced into those shackles...of course she couldn't know what type of magic he was working, only that she was sensitive enough to know it was being used. How long did it last, an hour, hours? Time was meaningles in her dark little trap where he let her spite build in raw hatred. There wasn't much to be done about it now...her hatred for him to the point that if he let her go, she'd simply return time and time again in attempts to murder him. She needed to remain trapped, or killed for good.

Her world suddenly torn upside down as the jar was flipped and shook so htat her frame slapped down into his palm roughly. Fingers closing around, lightly crushing diminuitive frame, knowing how to hold her, where to hold her, so that her head couldn't crane enough to let malicious teeth sink into his flesh. Smile on his face as he'd look down at her, a wave of his hand causing the door to the room to slam shut. Oh he knew how to keep it sealed, "Time to play Damascus.." the wafting scent of freshly baked bread and a platter of fruit nearby as he'd turn her body toward it, "Your reward, if you can play nice."

*****
she was tempted. sorely tempted, in those strung seconds after he would shake her down out of her blackened glass prison into his hand, to spit in his face and leer. tempted to laugh out loud, that bluebell noise, and rebuff him with curses. but it had been a solid week without a meal, long enough so that when the world turned upside down and his fingers shut down around her, damascus fought the urge to vomit. she knew that there was nothing left but bile. even after he'd pinned her arms to her body in their shackles, caught the ragged points of her hair under his thumb so that her head craned impossibly -left,- carthad's office whorled and blurred, chalk and rain.

and the smell, it crawled into her nose and rested quietly on her soft palette. it was stronger now than the urge to fight him. stronger even than the urge to verbally abuse him, or to worm about in his hand until she dislocated her shoulders with the effort of it. wrists in tiny shackles gave twists against the enormous texture of his palm. dehydration made it difficult to breathe, to think .. she couldn't even remember half of her plotting, any more, her pallor is sluggish and wan.

"and what is the game today," she managed, the syllables creaked. he'd mashed her wings just so, they could not flex .. her body arched, quivering, and exhausted. such a change this must be from her endless berating, venomous wit-twisting retorts.

*****

Part of him was surprised yes, the change in tone, even in language as he looked down at her and she made that little request. Still this was a moment he'd been waiting for, knowing that in time the urge to survive would break even her hatred the will to kill, maim, bite and mar. She didn't want death afterall, the instinct to survive hard wired into her as it was into every other living thing.

"So many games to choose from damascus.." How long had it been since she'd actually heard her name? He almost never used it, but then again their interactions were ussually short and violent. What reason did he have to converse with her once she turned insolent. "I'm always happy to play with an eager slave girl...but with all of your struggles I've been growing more fond of the insolent rape victim.." Roles for her to play, even if that last one wasn't even a role. "I dare say, its impossible for you to play an innocent though.." Said as his fist lowered to the desk top and she'd feel the rough wood against her tiny feet. His fingers slowly unraveling, though not enough to release her, "First though...you need to grow." Order given in that firmness as he'd await the sensation that she was indeed growing before he'd open his hand for her completely.

*****

damascus forced herself to breathe evenly, deeply. blood so thick that her lungs wanted to pant, her eyelids clung to her eyes each time she blinked. she wanted to be angry - a part of her, pitch and twisted, remained so. the other keened and howled for water and for food, refused to allow the luxury of being a prideful prisoner. some things could not be broken entirely with deprivation .. the badfaerie had come as close as she would to begging.

the effort to become large used, perhaps, the last fraction of energy she possessed. enormous, dark eyes affixed to his face as skinny limbs -became,- long bones pushing outward, the subtle shiver he must have felt against his flesh was multiplied a thousandfold when she was tall enough to just fit within his shadow, leaning hard against the desk edge. two pair of wings, crushed inward like crepe paper, unfolded explosively and knocked nearly all of the scrolls - quills - ink - powder - wax - and a rather large oil lamp onto the floor. in the cacophony, she walked one of the quills into her fist and broke it off where it sprouted from her fingers. leaned hard against her hands then and allowed her head to sink. no need to feign a hunger that was illness .. gaunt flesh and hollow sockets were reality enough.

"i'm sure you'll find that with these tactics, i'd seem more eager -dead- .. " by tactics, perhaps she meant his manner of captivity. surely her glance moved with disgust, aside and at the tar blackened jar upon the desk's ledge. "why not bargain with me. why not -employ- me," she murmured, but her tongue was thick. her body was turning, her hip was bumping him. long pale fingertips walked across the desk toward the plates. they looked for a water flagon, desperately.

*****

He smirks at that and his hand came down, gripping her wrist, "Goddess..you look dreadful. I know what your bargaining leads to damascus, but perhaps I'll humor you. Know this, the next attempt you make on my life will be you last. I'll let you starve here in that jar, and with how unfuckable you look right now...I'll truly have no reason to let you out ever." She would be denied food for now, but his other hand would come from behind him and that sugary sweet scent would strike her nose before she'd see it. A stein, sloshing to the brim with fruit juice, falling in little droplets onto her thighs to cling and dry sticky as he held it in front of her face. "You may drink." Permission given as he'd release her wrist. The juice would rehydrate, and the sugars would do her some good. She'd always been wirey, but the level of malnourishment he'd had her suffer under...well there weren't even curves to grab hold of anymore it seemed.

"Bargaining does sound like an intriguing game I suppose...so I offer you food, drink, the things you need to stay alive in that little glass jar I've given you...and what do you offer in return? I won't make demands until I've heard an offer." It was how bartering was done afterall. He showed what he could give, and in turn she'd she what she was willing to part with...or at least what her primary offer would be.

*****

his fingers overlapped the meat of his thumb across her wrist, the hand attached flitting, fingers spreading nimble as a dragonfly. she took a warning breath through her nose - loud, a flash of teeth - as he commented on her appearance. how dare he, when -he- was the one who disallowed her regular sustenance, or even proper bathing. such was the spirit of the thing, that before he brought out the flagon of fruit juice, she was preparing to try to drive the short fragment of quill into the arc of his neck.

then the smell struck her senses. such a fragrance, she groaned out loud and groped ahead drunkenly for the vessel, scooping it out of his grip. bony woman tipped the juice to her mouth and began to drink .. long, glossy red ribbons of juice began to leak out around the stein's edges, pouring across her chin and slicking the front of her body. times like these that her proportion was more true to life .. the stein's round edge nearly eclipsed her face, making the fragility of her features stark.

not even the ghost of grippable flesh to speak of - he was the father of that. once she'd entirely drained the stein, she reached aside .. it -thocked- onto the desktop twice before she released it. it wobbled around once and twice before settling. wearing the stains of her eagerness, thing finally addressed him. lifted her angular chin and sniffed, tightening her grip around her hidden weapon.

"a wrangler for your pets. an assassin for your house. a go-between, a senechal," she responds once the surge of bliss from that simple gift begins to ebb. "why would i kill you if i had a reason to let you live." let you live, audacity in that starved face. her eyes were the only bright thing about her, the rest shuddering and weak .. and in desperate need of a bath.

(the above via email 8/23/10.)

[One]

He watched with characteristic and no doubt standard smirk as she drank down that stein and then said her words to him. It was true, the once sparse curves he used to enjoy gripping as he'd batter her body had all faded. Then her words and he was laughing, that cold harsh laughter that no doubt only made her want to sink that makeshift weapon into his throat all the more. It was utterly dismissive of her, afterall...as he had always been. She wasn't strong enough, in any regard to do him any harm. How else had she ended up in that glass jar on his desk, trapped in the utter blackness of the glass hell he'd put together for her. Still, his eyes were open, always on her, not giving an opening.

"Well, as I said, you're in no state to stuff...or that I'd want to. Eat up.." he'd say motioning to the plate, as if the decision not to use her had just been made, and made simply because for the moment she disgusted him. As the mirth faded from his eyes he'd raise a brow to her, "You won't lay a hand on my pets, you savage little creature you. They are better than you, offering good and loyal service to them. I won't have you marring their flesh with whatever malicious punishments you might decide. As for an assassin...you haven't managed to kill me. Why should I trust you to bring death to those that are worthy enough to be called me enemies? I'd need a far better display than what you've given so far. But its obvious you're looking for a job...and that I might be able to do. Tiny as you are, tinier still in your small form..unassuming. A spy for me...that is a role I could see you filling."

****

her expression hardened line by breath as he laughed. the noise of it rolled over her, vicious and strange, ringing in her ears until the very tenor of it was explosive. bit by thought her upper lip curled and her teeth flashed .. badfaerie lowered her chin and began slowly crushing the quill's soft-textured edges in her fist. her thumbprint skimmed the inkstained point, nicking the skin with it, drawing blood. by the time he was done, her nostrils were flaring rage. her face, breasts had blushed a virulent scarlet.

had not successfully killed him? approach me naked as i have approached you naked, damascus seethed. remove the rings, the enchantments, the walls .. then we shall see. thing boosted herself onto the desk .. really, this was a maneuver onto toes and then a push. strength in her arms was non-existent. she didn't trust herself to drive the thing into his throat in the manner she wished .. was doubly frustrated by her own ruined state. wait .. wait. patience is the snake's virtue.

she pulled the plate by it's edge across the desktop, feeling it bump and skitter and bounce the food in it. lifted it across bare porcelain thighs and began with the fruit .. a single grape that she tucked slowly between molars .. that she broke against her teeth. "your sluts aren't better than me, Carthad," she dismissed his coterie with a gesture. "as for good and loyal service, what opportunity have you given me to prove my loyalty?" leaned toward him, nearer, so that if he did not draw away her nose would brush his nose. flower mouth moved a breath away from his mouth, emptying her whispers on his tongue. "all you have done is fuck me in the mud and hurt me until i -lied- to you." ruined redcap pushed her fingers into that space between their faces, smell of another grape must fill his nose. her knuckles maybe disturbing the line of his lip as she pushed the little fruit into her mouth .. she broke the grape on her teeth, too, and shuddered as the flavor melted stars on her tongue.

"not a -job- in particular, Carthad," she said, discreetly chewing, straightening. moths wings gave a flick, fragrant faedust billowed shortly in the air as fine as talcum powder. "a truce. i want out of the jar. you'd prefer that i did not continue to try to suffocate you with your own pillows any more, yes?"

her appetite was voracious, but the time would come soon enough to devour.