Episodic Adventure

                                                                 Prologue Arc#1 ((In Progress))

 

Ancient tomes lay open, sprawled in seeming disarray upon the gleaming wood of her ebon painted desk. Crumbling leather fell like snow, dusting the floor at her feet as it fluttered and spiraled from each carelessly cracked binding. Thousands of years of knowledge waited at her fingertips, and the red headed witch treated it with no greater regard than she would a bag of dirt. Lady Sinavieve D’autrey cared less for preserving the power at her fingertips than she did about absorbing it. In fact, were she to admit the truth out lout, she was likely to burn each book when she was done with it. Better, for her, if no one else managed to learn the craft that she so aberrantly hunted. Obsession was more potent than any drug, each new skill or trick offering a sense of euphoria that had addicted her from the first. Aether was a powerful lover, and a fickle one. Magic had too many rules, each more dangerous than the last. She never had been very good at following rules. Quirking a single arched brow at the jumble of words dancing across her page, the petite but wicked creature slid from her pilfered chair to face her honored guest. The scholar was older than her grandfather had been when she had suffocated him with a pillow, hoping to trigger the trickle of his fortune to the younger generations. It had worked- but then, there had been more family to deal with before it became hers. There was always more for her to deal with before she got what she wanted, and the lovely but soulless creature always got what she wanted in the end. “Old man…” She addressed her captive in soft tones, ignoring the whimpering groans that came from his slowly rotting form. She had hurt him, broken and sewn him back together more times than she could count. The wounds were festering, and he didn’t have much time now.

“This tome. It is in an ancient language. I can’t read it… but I bet you can.” Her rump settled onto the edge of his bloodied bed, tight leather pants settling carelessly into a pile of blood and gore. Purple eyes watched his face, studying each nuance of expression with practiced knowledge. She couldn’t miss the spark that flamed in his milky eyes, glassy gaze locking close enough to her form that she knew he was glaring. “Ah, still something left in you after all. You have little to worry over.” One hand reaching down, the used a blood caked glove to offer his wrinkled cheek a pat. “I won’t make you read it for me. You don’t have nearly enough time for that. I’ll read you a few words, and you can tell me what language it is. I’ll find someone who can read it for me.” The words that flowed from her tongue were garbled, spat as if she were choking on marbles. Unfamiliar sounds formed a language most had long since forgotten, one that she had never had the pleasure of learning. When she had run through enough to assure herself her guest could answer, she once more locked speculative eyes onto his trembling form. There was fury there, fear. True fear. This tome, this mundane looking book held the key to the knowledge that she sought! At last, it was clutched in her fingertips. Within her power to start the journey that she had until now only dreamed of.

The elation flowed through her, brought a tremble to her slender form. Elegant limbs tightened on the book, head fuzzy with dreams of what she might accomplish. It was for this reason that she allowed him several minutes of silence before realizing that he wouldn’t speak. That he would hold his tongue to keep her from obtaining the expertise she required to ‘improve.’ He would rather suffer her wrath than betray the dogma of his organization. Foolish. Noble, but foolish. “I see.” Rising once more from the perch that she had settled onto, Sin tugged her gloved slowly up her wrists. “Well, sir.” The false show of respect was mockery more than anything, the short hyur all but bouncing over to the blood caked tools of her favorite trade. A long curved dagger found its way into her palm, already too covered in refuse to gleam in the sparse candlelight. It was with a single slow glide of her wrist that she flayed her victim open, his loose skin gaping just enough to form a pocket. Blood burbled and flowed, too thick and black with sick. It smelled of death, but she wasn’t ready to show that mercy yet. The scream that rended the air wasn’t heard, this initial bout of pain a far cry from her end game. Kneeling low she fished into her bag for a jar, the glass tube filled with several skittering horrors. Insects of an unknown origin to most- vile looking black beetles with elongated bodies and rows of needle sharp teeth. “I see from your expression that you know what these are. I do love an educated man.” Flicking a painted nail against the clear glass, Sin watched her pets scurry and attack one another in eager panic. “So you know what they will do to you. And knowing what they do, you won’t believe me to be lying… But just to be sure? I’ll tell you.”

“These beauties breed fast, and in legions. They usually find a corpse to lay their larva in. Once the brood hatches, in a day or so? Thousands of these beautiful creatures will feast their way from their host. Thousands of these darlings will consume every once of meat, every muscle, every nerve that gets in their way. It would likely kill you quickly were I not to intervene.” There was a pause, her hand twisting the jar open so that she could dump the beetles into their host. Calmly setting the now empty terrarium aside Sinavieve took up a needle and thread. Her motions were slow and skilled, drawing the skin that she had just parted back together with the precision of a surgeon. “If your collective finds out that you have lost this grimoire, they will kill you. I understand that you have been taught to fear that for many long years.” Snipping the thread that now bound him shut, she reached down to flick her work hard enough to send him writhing. Tears leaked down his ruined face, lips curled back to show yellowing teeth in a show of horror and fear potent enough to make her hum. “But what I will do is far, far worse.” “If you do not tell me what I want to know, old man? I will keep you alive.”