The Spider and the Fly, Tangled Webs (COMPLETE)

[William the Bloody]

Location: Ecklet, second moon of Arabis, the Antari System, Wild Space

The meadow was picturesque. Rolling hill that gently flowed from horizon to horizon. The blue blades of grass bent easily under the wind that swept from out of the north. Several ships had scoured the earth with thrusters as they settled into a circular formation upon landing. Several units of mercenaries walked the perimeter, rifles slung, as they kept an eye out for any guests. At the center where the earth was scorched free of the slightly cumbersome grass were two posts, a limp form hanging between them upon chains.


Across from the shackled man stood another. Impeccable suit of midnight black matched the young man’s equally dark hair. Stubble adorned his face. Piercing eyes watched the prisoner carefully, waiting for a sign that he was finally waking. His features revealed neither frutration nor boredom. No, he was quite adept at getting what he wanted, no matter the test of patience. And already he had gleaned much from the prisoner.


Hari, a Cendiary Priest and former Paladin of the Adamite Tower, had not broken easily. But he had broken. And such tantalizing secrets he had shared, willing or not. A Force order not unlike the ancient Sith or the Witches of Dathomir. They did not have a clear understanding of the Force from an academic or scientific aspect, but what they had was intuition and a fundamental grasp of a power that had confounded the galaxy for eons. Some abilities in the Force they could not understand but others they had mastered. Abilities that neither Jedi nor Sith had discovered. When you never had tradition tell you that it wasn’t possible, so much became attainable.


Hari groaned and swayed with the soft moan. The man in black waved for the pair that stood not far from the center. The doctor and solder approached with nary a word to answer the beckoning of their master.


“Assist his healing. Clean him up, feed him. I start again in an hour.”


The duo immediately began to obey his orders. Walking away without a glance back to ensure his command was carried out, for he knew it would, he headed to where pavillion was set up a few hundred meters away. Beneath it stood a great wooden table with several chairs, one of which more closely resembled a throne. Talking a seat he leaned back and steepled his fingers as he looked at the items before him. Personal belongings of Hari lay carefully strewn about, a holo recorder hovering on repulsors to capture everything of pertinence. A comlink lay next to a worn leather journal, a sheathed skinning knife, and a datapad.


Doggo shifted slightly at his returned presence. His hand drifted to rest on her heaving side as she continued to slumber. The other hand reached across the table and lifted the sheathed knife, musing to himself. He had seen Force imbued objects, but this tool seemed to be even more powerful than the imbued swords he had seen from Tython. After studying Hari’s journal and several conversations with the prisoner the reason was discovered. While the ancient Jedi and Sith imbued their blades to be nigh indestructible the Cendiary Priest had imbued the blade not with a vague empowerment of the Force but rather the specific attributes of what the tool was. instead of an indestructible weapon he had created a blade that could seemingly cut through nearly anything with the ease of a lightsaber. An ingenious manipulation of the Force.


A tickling at the base of his neck caused him to return the item back to the tabletop and lean back once more. A plea for help had rolled from Hari, a beacon that could potentially draw others from the planet Weir, others who were in the vicinity of the system. Like drawing flies to the web to become ensnared in the machinations of the grand spider. He spoke without looking over his shoulder to Lieutenant Reaper.


“Get the Knight Hunters ready for guests. No fighting. Maybe the next one will be more amicable.”

[member="Sylvi"]

 

[Sylvi]

|| E C K L E T ||​

​

Meditation is paradoxically a powerful tool.

That has always struck me. Suffering, violence, pain, combat, I had been taught that all of these were how we learn, how we gain enlightenment. And yet it was meditation that was the catalyst for knowledge. It was the quiet moments that were the most important. I had come to Ecklet to pursue this idea more, to practice meditating, to learn why the quiet was just as important as the loud.

It was in this quiet, sitting on my knees, with my wrists resting on my thighs and palms facing the sky, that I felt it.

A cry for help.

Someone in utter despair had reached out through the force, sending a desperate call of pure distress to any who might be inclined to heed it. A shiver raced down my spine, gripping my shoulders and shaking them in the afternoon breeze. His suffering was intense, the utter panic and agony seeping into his desperate plea for help. It was exquisite.

Few had ever found out about my upbringing, and even fewer understood it. I'm no sadist like my mentors, nor do I delight in inflicting suffering, as they do. However, in my own way... I've learned to be at peace with it.

I leaned back, turning my face up to the sky, taking in a deep, slow breath and reaching out back towards him, to investigate this sensation. He likely would have felt something in response, a presence... my presence. Within a few more moments I pulled myself to my feet and began to make my way in that direction, it was only about an hour's walk away, and a stroll over the blue grass meadows would be a lovely way to spend my afternoon.

At least until I could discover what was inflicting such agony upon my new friend.






[member="William the Bloody"]

 

[William the Bloody]

Like the carron beetle that feasted on the corpses of the dead Sith in the great valley upon Korriban, the young man had wormed into Hari’s mind and body. Each dispersal of the Force fed the seated man, even hundreds of meters away. A sigh escaped slightly parted lips. The sation of consuming not just the Force of another but the very vital aura of another sentient being threatened to raise him upon a high that had consumed so many dark side users over the millenia. Yes, he could drain another sentient being, but that wasn’t the purpose. Or rather, not the only purpose.

Eyes opened and he stood. The pup woke and rolled over, grass and dirt entwined with her fur coat. He walked back across the gulf that separated himself from the prisoner, the pup following closely at his heels. The doctor and soldier moved away at his approach, no command necessary. Hari glared daggers at him. Well, one dagger. The prisoner’s other eye had made for a nice impromptu snack for Doggo when the young man had torn it from his socket with his fingers. You didn’t earn the moniker “the Bloody” for rainbows and ewok hugs.

As Hari recoiled away from the touch of his tormentor the hateful gaze had melted into fear and abject terror. The young man gently wiped his forefinger across the prisoners face capturing ters, sweat, and blood. Holding it under his nose his nostrils flared as he inhaled the scents that caused a slight flush raise to his cheeks. Then as Hari whimpered and cringed away as far as he could while restrained the young man licked his finger. The taste raced across his tongue flashing images before his mind’s eye. Snippets of memory not his own flickered before him that he filed away for inspection at a later date.

“I will be free soon you monster!”, Hari feebly squeaked out with all the indignation and resistance he could muster. It was a pitiful sum, but it was still something. The young man stepped back and turned presenting his back to Hari who thought he had earned a momentary reprieve from what was to come. The prisoner sagged in relief as he felt the presence in response to his pleas through the Force. I am here oh daughter of the Skyholme Lucites. I am a son of the Cendiary Priests. Please free me and you will be rewarded greatly!

The young man turned back and allowed a slow smile to creep across his features. In his interrogation of the priest he had sought to break the man’s body and spirit, which he did splendidly. But the mind he didn’t want to break. He wanted to reap it. So as he tortured Hari he allowed himself to feel every pain, every torment, every moment of ecstasy as the punishment stopped. He shared the rush of balming peace with every healing session. Every cure from the pangs of hunger. And in doing so he slipped past the thresholds within Hari’s mind as a mirror of his own. And then he dug in and begun to consume as the carron beetle. But there was one thing buried, one scrap of powerful knowledge the priest had managed to withhold. But in the silent communique through the Force to the other, he had revealed what it was.

Or rather, where.

Turning on his heel the young man thrust his hand forward in a blur to quick to follow with the eye. And Hari found himself watching the final beat of his heart as it was held triumphantly in his tormentor’s hand as a grotesque trophy. Beginning to walk back to the pavillion he spoke a command to his people as he gazed at his gory prize.

“Let this woman come to me unhindered. This Lucite.”

[member="Sylvi"]

 

[Sylvi]

Oh, what a wonderful walk it was.

I maintained a connection as best I could while I swept across the fields, allowing my fingertips to brush the tall stalks. I turned my face to the sky, seeking what I could from the torment the man was suffering. The closer I drew, the more I could glean, the stronger it became. He sensed me, sending out a message that he sensed who I was, naming himself a priest. I have little interest in material rewards, but to be owed a favor could be beneficial on its own...

Then suddenly it went stopped.

With a sharp gasp I recoiled, dropping to my knees as a hand clutched at my heart. It had been like the sudden recoil from a tightly-pulled band, snapping back with violent momentum as my connection to the priest was severed. My heart hammered in my chest as my mind reeled, trying to catch my breath from the sudden snap. For a few moments I waited, letting the sensation settle over me.

Glancing up, I saw the crest of a small hill just ahead of me, whatever had the priest likely still below.

Well, I'd come so far already, so I climbed the hill and saw the almost military setup below, complete with armed perimeter guards. Well, a young woman in a simple, long dress was hardly threatening, particularly if she wore an expression of gentle confusion. The dress I wore had a wide neck, so I allowed it to slide down one shoulder slightly, showing not only a little alluring skin, but also--if these men were well trained--they'd see I wasn't particularly built or muscular.

See? Non-threatening.

Upon approaching the site, I immediately saw the priest. Or rather... what remained of him. Strung between to posts, the prisoner was now merely a corpse, slumped and still with a large, darkened puddle beneath him. While my desire was to approach and study the wounds, I ensured that all saw instead my shocked recoil. Gentle young ladies don't take to such things, after all.

My destination was the pavilion, my arms wrapped around my slender waist as if to hug myself in nervousness, whilst simultaneously accentuating the feminine curve of the cleavage at the top of my dress. What? I work with what I have.

The men allowed me to pass, and I walked to the wooden structure, where was the man seemingly in charge of this entire affair. A bloodied hand, black attire, a gaze that revealed nothing about his intentions. There was little doubt this was the man in charge. I took just a moment to let slip a subtle breath, a sigh to allow myself to find my center. Diplomacy, or whatever this was going to be, was a dance, and even a competent dancer needed to concentrate to remember the steps.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Another weapon in my arsenal, a soft, sweet, gentle voice, "I'm... looking for someone, I was wondering if you could help me?"





[member="William the Bloody"]

 

[William the Bloody]

He studied the heart for several minutes, both with his physical senses and through the force. Physically it seemed like another other heart pulled still beating from a man’s chest until it ceased. But in the force he sensed something else entirely. Focusing a bit more he winced as a stabbing pain lanced out into his mind causing him to flinch perceptibly. Slamming down walls in his mind he carefully placed the heart upon the table while still gazing at it. Lieutenant Reaper quietly spoke from the side of the pavilion. “She's coming in now sir.”

Turning aside after giving the pup a look to stay away from the heart he gazed out and watched the woman approach what remained of Hari the dead priest. Her reaction was to be expected yet he was neither fooled by her performance nor awed by the undeniable femine charm that she carried herself with.

As she turned to head in his direction he erased any hint of emotion from his face, standing still ass one of the statues his grandfather used to keep in the palatial gardens. She stepped beneath the roof that sheltered them from the sun’s warm rays and continued her act. Innocent, emure, lost, and in need of help. She was good. But she could have been better.

A lone, lost woman walks into a camp that appeared military in nature. She was didn’t attempt to question the soldiers nor did they speak to her. She walks to the center of camp and sees a tortured and desiccated corpse. Then walks to the only man not in uniform but with fresh blood covering his hand and a heart sitting upon the table. And she chooses to portray a confused and lost innocent who is looking for assistance. She was good, but her experiences had tempered the reality of the role she had chosen to play. And the mistakes in her act was glaring.

He decided to play along for now.

“I am sorry to hear that miss.How can I be of service in your hour of need?”

An open smile, inviting in nature split his lips as his eyes warmed and appeared friendly. Taking a towel he lowly cleaned the gore from his hand and then, once they were clean, getred for her to come forward and take a seat. He even reached out and pulled the chair out for her to take a seat if she so desired. He allowed his eyes to travel her body and gulped in physical response to her alluring, revealing skin.

“Can I also offer you refreshment?”

Without looking at her he took a marble pitcher and a clear glass and poured her some refreshing, crystal clear water before motioning to a platter of tantalizing finger foods and fruit sitting near the heart upon the table.

Your move he thought while keeping the visage of a charming and helpful man.

[member="Sylvi"]

 

[Sylvi]

The man reached for a towel to clean off this bloodied hand.

For the briefest of moments, I saw the neutrality before the mask descended. Warm, inviting, pleasant, he could have been entirely genuine if it weren't for our surroundings. In fact, I felt my heart flutter as he spoke. He was good. The heart flutter became one of nervousness as I realized that rather than a standard, brutish thug, I had unwittingly approached a professional. After all what man, who brings vehicles and armored guards with him, would so openly and genuinely offer food and refreshments to a stranger to his camp?

He'd pegged me as a player, and I in turn had done the same with him. So, we had both taken up our positions, and it was time for the dance to begin.

How may I be of service?

How indeed. The man gestured me closer, like a dance partner as the music began. With the grace and rhythm of our chosen song, I approached, scooping my hands under my thighs to sweep the fall of my dress out from under me and lower myself into the seat. Thankfully, the mask I had chosen to wear for this number was that of a worried young woman, so the real, genuine way he unnerved me was not out of place.

Next, he offered a refreshment. I watched as he poured a glass of water from a pitcher, gesturing then to a display of delectable foods and refreshments. Perhaps this was a test of some kind, or maybe he was merely gauging to see how I reacted. I tilted my eyes away from him, extending one arm to delicately accept the glass and hold it to my chest. I lifted it to my lips, but let out the dramatic sigh of a nervous girl, hoping to cover the fact that I did not take a sip.

"Thank you."

I murmured softly. Although, it seemed almost foolish now. The Jedi will admit that their mind trick only works on the weak-willed, feminine allure is much the same. A normal thug might've fallen for it, but the intelligence behind this strange man's eyes showed that he would not be so easily swayed.

"Could... you tell me your name?"

My next move. He asked how he could be of service, so I gave an answer.

"It's a little less daunting than seeking help from a stranger."

And a perfectly valid reason to request it. Surely, he could back out now if he wished, but it would reveal that there was more than just a helpful young man standing in front of me. As I spoke, my other hand remained in my lap, fingers curled in the fabric of my dress, hidden. I considered casting a spell to reach out and seek what was in his mind, but for now, I decided against it.

No reason for him to know I had such power now.





[member="William the Bloody"]

 

[William the Bloody]

Her eyes turned away as she took the glass. The act of breaking contact reminded him this was a game fraught with danger, lies, and hidden objectives. His eyes flickered to her lips that parted with an audible sigh. Tangible thoughts of those lips helped drive home the previous point. She was devilishly good at using her attributes for distraction and she nearly came close to succeeding. He blinked away the line of fantastical thought and focused once more. A spark of amusement flickered in his eyes, pupils that oddly seemed to flicker diagonally so quickly that surely it must have been a trick of the light.

She hadn't taken a drink.

Pointedly he poured himself a glass from the pitcher and slipped into the seat that resembled a throne. Almost absently he set the glass of water down without taking a sip as if his thirst had seemingly been forgotten with the arrival of a beautiful, mysterious, and enchanting woman. She asked for his name and have a perfectly valid reason for it.

“I could …”

He gave a playful smile. Yet he parried the thrust with an elementary wit of youth. She had asked if he could, which he surely possessed the capacity to. The careful craft of wordplay amused him greatly. Lightly he coughed into his hand before retrieving his glass and take several swigs. His eyes meet her’s innocently enough, though he allowed them to harden ever so slightly to reveal he had indeed taken note of her slyly choosing not to partake of a simple glass of water before softening once more. He set the glass aside and folded his hands carefully before him on the table.

“Forgive me my humor at your choice of words. My name is William. Now that we are more than strangers yet less than friends, acquaintances if you will, then perhaps you can regale me with your need in hopes I can fulfill your request.”

He leaned back letting his arms fall to the rests. He didn't request her name because, unlike her, he had more than an idea of what she was. Stolen knowledge of the priest along with the man being within Hari’s mind at time of contact with the woman had shown him, even before her arrival, that she was not what she tried to appear.

Outside the pavilion three more Knight Hunters joined Lieutenant Reaper in watching the correspondence at the table. Playfully William flipped the pages of Hari's journal slowly as he waited now for the woman to make her next move.

[member="Sylvi"]

 

[Sylvi]

My ruse hadn't been quite good enough, as the man subtly pointed out to me.

I could feel my cheeks growing warm in a slight blush at my misstep, but relented and took a sip of water to dissipate it. I had come here expected to exercise my skills in diplomacy somewhat, but if I'm honest, I had not expected to find another champion in the art. It was unsettling, and I began to feel unprepared. It felt as though he already had me on the back foot, leading this dance at a pace with which I struggled to keep up.

William

He pointed out the blunder in my step, but chose to give his name anyway. A... charitable notion that I had not come to expect from him. Moreover, he did not ask for mine. Immediately I felt alarm bells begin to ring. We weren't on equal footing. Perhaps that was why he was so easily confident.

Before I answered, I glanced behind us to see a few of the men had drawn a little closer to observe our conversation. A pity; to them, it would likely seem boring indeed; two figures engaging in a pleasant, normal conversation. It was only to us that the true danger of this duel was entirely revealed. Turning my head back to William, I kept my chin level, flicking my eyes briefly down to the book through which he idly flipped. The gesture was designed to accentuate a feminine elegance, and even though his eyes weren't on me, it was vital to leave the mask on no matter what.

"The Cendiary priests sent me." I answered him finally, allowing concern to lace the soft, pleading words. "they've lost a brother of theirs, it is my hope that you'd tell me anything you know about it."

I cast another glance briefly behind me, flashing a pleading, nervous glance to the man I had pegged as in charge. William was good, really good, and I needed all the help I could get. If per chance I could endear one of his men to me, just enough, I could use him to help crack this mysterious man.





[member="William the Bloody"]

 

[William the Bloody]

From the corner of his eye he saw her take a drink. He contained the flicker of triumph that sparked within. Lazily he closed the journal and listened to her words that escaped her lips with a velvety softness that caressed the ears. Rising slowly he went back to the pitcher of water that was surrounded by several empty glasses arranged around it. Glancing up he watched the brief look given to the squad standing by Lieutenant Reaper. Briefly he wondered if she was using only her feminine charms or if she had touched the Force. But no matter, for he had contingencies within contingencies.

The pup had also risen and lumbered over the the woman before collapsing in a huff at her side, the mutt sniffing the woman's feet in the curiosity of a new scent. Taking one of the empty glasses he filled it before taking a second glass and turned to lean back against the tabletop, eyes looking past the woman.

“Most ancient cultures across the Galaxy have developed a very similar custom. To this day we use the custom without understanding the nature of its beginnings. In the present, when friends or family gather together there is a toast, the clinking of cups to represent the solidarity all felt for the words spoken. In the past the toasting of cups was also for the same reasonings, but with an added benefit. It was easy to abstain from drink while others partook in the case that the wine was poisoned. But between chieftains forging a new alliance from division, if one leader didn't drink the wine then the other would infer that something was amiss. So then deviousness evolved and only the opposing chieftain’s cup was poisoned. And so the toast came into effect. Two would slam their cups together allowing their wine to mingle and, hence, share their fates with more than flowery words.”

Holding up the empty glass you could see a nearly imperceptible powder residue within. When he clinked the glasses together and water entered the cup, the powder dissolved without a trace. Setting the glasses down he braced his arms on either side of the table and leaned back slightly in a relaxed posture.

“It was a surprise for any visitors. Again you have my regrets that it slipped my mind when you arrived. But do not worry, my guest, for the side effects of this particular strain of death stick is known to cause slight hallucinogens and is capable of weakening an individual's connection to the Force. Unintentional for your consumption.”

He turned to take his seat, intentionally turning his back upon her as if to say he was not her enemy. Or perhaps to say he did not consider her a viable threat. He took his seat once more and placed his hand on his chin, eyes studying her while his forefinger lightly tapped his cheek in contemplation. The time of subterfuge’s end was rapidly approaching, yet he felt compelled to play a little bit longer within the parameters of the game they were engaged in.

“You are sent of the Cendiary Priests? In search of just one of their brothers? Which one would that be, Asher or Hari? For Hari came in search of Asher. Perhaps the one who sent you was misinformed as I do not believe you would seek to deceive me.”

The smile on his face turned sad, regretful even, as he continued to speak. Meanwhile the pup nuzzled the woman's leg.

“I regret to inform you that when I found Asher he was near death. I could not save him but managed to prolong his life. When Hari arrived he asked for my assistance in return for a favor I was to name afterwards. Unfortunately Hari did not survive my petition, though he certainly upheld his end of the bargain. So there you are. I'm saddened to relay this information to you. But an additional offering of information is that Asher was fleeing the attacks of a group known as Lucites who were responsible for his condition when I found him.”

Eyes watched her, unreadable within their depths. Half truths and omissions were not falsehoods or lies but it did alter one's perception of events. From a certain point of view.

[member="Sylvi"]

 

[Sylvi]

Something was wrong.

I tilted my head to one side, feeling an... almost a haze around me, as if it took my mind a few moments to catch up with the movement. Instantly my hearts began to race, a million thundering beats all throughout my core. An ugly mutt of a dog wandered over to investigate the woman who smelled of sandalwood and lavender, apparently finding it appealing, and plopped at my feet.

I reached out to pet the thing, but my arm felt strange. I paused, hand hovering in mid-air, staring at it for a moment. William had begun to speak, and as I fought to hide my quickening breaths, my hand lowered and my eyes moved up to him. He turned his back, but as my gaze narrowed, squinting, it seemed as though somehow he was still watching me, like he had a face on the back of his head.

Finally, the strange talk of toasting and its history came to a terrifying close, as the man revealed what I had begun to realize. My head was cloudy, my refined discipline - so important in this game - was stripped away. I could feel the buzz of panic building at the base of my skull, my stomach churning. I couldn't concentrate, my attention drawn to the strangeness that began to seep into my vision. Water became cloudy, as if injected with a drop of ink, the sky swirled as though with invisible clouds. William himself seemed to almost shimmer, like he wasn't even human at all, but rather wearing the shroud of one.

For a few moments I remained silent, both hands laced tightly in my lap, my eyes closed as I fought back the waves of disorientation and swaying. I wouldn't be able to hold on for long. I'd never had anything foreign in my system, and Atoans absorb substances quickly. But I couldn't see him win... not until I'd taken a final swing.

"H-Hari..." I stammered. Yes, that made sense. Either the man was telling the truth, and Hari came second, or there was no Asher, and Hari was the only one - likely the corpse strung between the posts.

"You... know of, the Lucites?"

Opening my eyes once more to look at him as the world around us shivered.

"If it was unintentional... you'd have the anti--dote, correct?"

Perhaps if my perception wasn't skewed, I'd have been able to retain much more elegance and grace with my question, but everything was different now, skewed, fuzzy. A grimace crossed my features and a hand moved to my forehead. I had no idea if this was going to get worse or if I'd even succumb to the effects of the death stick.

"Would you be so kind and rectify... your mistake?"

Please... I'm scared.





[member="William the Bloody"]

 

[William the Bloody]

He watched as the effects of the drug became apparent, even faster than he had anticipated. Rising once more from the throne he slowly paced around the table, the expression still friendly and inviting. However, his movements were those of a predator closing in on an incapacitaed prey. Every step was smooth, each motion calculated and deliberate. As he neared her left side he leaned against the table and looked down into her eyes watching the effects mirrored within the dilating pupils. Her words slipped free having lost the seductive lilt that had infected her voice and poised to serenade her audience. Fear had emerged.

He leaned down to invade her personal space, his maasulne scent and physical presence almost dominating the smaller woman in the throes of the drug. How simple it would be to pluck the flower and enjoy the essence of her being. Yet that would shorten the possibilities of the future and, I must know, was it foolish hubris that had caused her to walk into the den of a krayt dragon, or is there more just beneath the demure surface waiting to be revealed by a scratch on her veneer exterior … He raised a hand with fingers extended as if to caress her cheek. His nails gleamed in the light of the setting sun, nails abnormally long and impossibly sharp.

“Unintentional, yes. And I do happen to have a cure for your ailments right here. It would remove you from the affects of what is coursing through your body right now.”

He pulled his hand away, just short of actual contact, though he had felt the heat radiating from her flawless skin. Reaching within his suit jacket he withdrew a vial with a transparent blue liquid. He held it in front of her eyes to make it easier for her to focus on the small container. But then he pulled the vial away and leaned back.

“Again you have failed to grasp the very meaning of the words we bandy back and forth, my little guest. I said the drug was for the guests that would arrive looking for the dearly departed Hari. I had planned a netting of a much larger prey, hence my words when I said you were an unintentional byproduct of my machinations. But I never said it was a mistake I had made. Just an unplanned, spontaneous consequence for the arrival of a single Lucite.”

With his words he admitted to her a deeper knowledge that he possessed. But how much he knew was certainly not revealed. Toying with the vial and woman simultaneously he tossed the vial into the air, letting it fall toward the tabletop until, at the last moment, he snatched it from destruction and softly placed it next to her glass, the wellspring of her current predicament. Pulling away from the table and the woman, William took several steps and stopped with his back still to the Lucite. He had made the choice to leave the vial sitting across from the woman. Just as the next move was hers to make.

[member="Sylvi"]

 

[Sylvi]

I could feel the way William seemed to watch me intently, like a long-extinct loth-wolf quietly watching wounded prey with hungry, intelligent eyes. My own eyes, narrowed in concentration, stayed on him as he stood from his chair and stalked towards me. Already affected by the drug, I was helpless as he suddenly appeared very close, utterly invading my personal space. The assault on my senses almost overwhelmed my clouded mind. His face filled my vision; a perfect mask of helpful, pleasant invitation, something dark and terrifying behind it. The masculine bouquet of a man used to working, the quiet, even sounds of each breath, the heat from his form, the drug seemed to amplify them, and I found myself helplessly trapped, still, watching his lips as he spoke to me.

Even as it occurred to me to reach out through my magic and try to invade his mind, I had neither the concentration nor the sensation of magic in my veins. I prayed that was merely a temporary effect of the death sticks. His hand reached out, fingers gently reaching for my cheek, almost like an invitation. I felt mesmerised, in a trance almost, barely able to comprehend anything outside of the man that had completely taken over every sense.

It wasn’t until he pulled his hand away that I realized I’d actually begun to lean forwards, almost like part of me… Wanted to feel those fingers upon my skin.

I sucked in a deep breath of air as he pulled away, not realizing that until then I had been holding it. William spoke of an antidote and my eyes flashed to the phial he produced, focusing on the blue liquid that seemed to glitter and sparkle like a tiny blue galaxy before snatching it away and leaning back.

What he said next made my blood run cold.

Lucite

He knew what I was, maybe even who I was. Something tugged at the back of my addled mind, something about how I’d asked his name… but he had never asked for mine. The dance was over, William revealing all the cards that he held.

My eyes flickered back to the phial. What was in it? He had promised it would remove me from the effects but, that could mean anything. I reached out to pick it up, turning it over my hands. The sparkles seemed to melt into a soft swirling, and I realized that I was still hallucinating.

With a deep breath, I brought it towards me, unscrewing the top and downing the contents in a single, swift motion, before I had a chance to second guess my decision. Swallowing, I delicately re-capped the phial and held it out towards William. With my free hand I sought his, to pry open his fingers and gently place it directly onto his palm if he allowed it.

“Alright then William,” I said softly, my words slurred slightly, “just how much do you know about me?”

… and did you just kill me?






[member="William the Bloody"]

 

[William the Bloody]

The setting sun cast its final rays of light across the meadow that rippled with the wind. Blues and greens interwoven creating a beautiful tapestry that ndulated a if was alive. His eyes closed as he waited for the woman to decide. Take the vial, or not to take it. The light rustling of the woman’s dress indicated she had chosen and he turned to move back in her direction, watching as she raised the vial to her supple lips and draining the liquid within. He was both disappointed and excited by her progressive action.

When she reached out to take his hand he flinched, just a slight tick, but enough of one to be noticeable. A crack in his polished exterior. Perhap she would not notice, for it was a tell. Of what, she could not ascertain, but just to know her host was not infallible would strengthen her resolve of resistance and defiance. And that would simply not do. His eyes did close as her fingers manipulated his. The warm sensation of another's hand in his was both pleasant and invasive. He was the one who took liberties with others. No one dared to touch him without his expressed consent. And that he rarely gave.

As her fingers finished transferring the vial to his hand and curling his fingers in, their skin broke contact as she spoke. His name rolled off her tongue in a slur that under different circumstances and people, would have been amusing. But here it was revealed that he had scored the more powerful strikes in the game. Had she surrendered to his vastly more powerful position? Had she accepted her place as his inferior? He wasn’t sure she had as her question wasn't about the vial she had drained but what he knew of her.

He leaned back guarded eyes flickering ever so slightly, irises stretching diagonally for a mere moment then settling back into its original form. Had she manipulated him? Was her act intentionally off so he would assume he had the upper hand and so grow lax in his defense? Was she perhaps an equal instead of an inferior? Was she his better? No, she was not his better. Not because she was a woman but because he refused to acknowledge that any other being held dominion over him. He was not the slave in chains to another. He was the master with the whip.

“Firstly, my guest, Daughter of the Skyholme Lucites I would like to assure you that what you took will indeed cease those hallucinations you are having. Your brain chemistry will be balancing out within the next minute. However it is not purging the first drug from your system, but merely counteracting the side effects. For clarity of mind. You see skirtopanol is known for being able to sharpen your mind, but the unfortunate side effect of this drug is widely known by many as a truth serum. As it is able to correct the chemistry in your brain from the narcotics, sadly it will not correct your connection with the force. That will return with time as your body ingests and metabolizes the original drug.”

Stepping away from the Lucite for a moment he turned once more to watch the sun as it continued to slip across the horizon. His arms went behind his backwards, one hand clasping the other wrist at the small of his back as he spoke over his shoulder while giving the woman a chance to collect herself and process.

“As for what I know of you, you are a woman from an order seeking to give aid to a countryman of another order. What else is there for me to know? Other then what is your heart of hearts? Then again, do you think there is anything more I should know about you?”

He didn't turn to face her. If she wished to continue the conversation like civilized adults she would come to him. Again. If she wanted to flee, she could. However she may not get very far. Or she could stay in her seat and shout over her shoulder. Out of the three options there was suitable only one. And if the skirtopanel was working properly she would feel compelled to tell him what he wanted.

[member="Sylvi"]

 

[Sylvi]

There was a flinch.

It was barely a flicker, slight enough that most normal people wouldn't have picked up on it. However, in the grand game, even the subtlest of tells we are trained to uncover. As much as my mind swirled with a fuzzy haze, I fought to retain that, to tuck it away. Perhaps I could use it. Thankfully, it seemed that I would indeed have the chance, as once I'd swallowed the liquid, the cloud began to dissipate. It was slow, at first, merely a lessening of the hallucinations. However, my hands gripped the arms of the chair as I allowed myself a sigh of relief.

It took a few minutes, still, as I continued to see little hallucinations in his eyes. A diagonal pupil, my own mind warning me of the demon within him, perhaps.

He stepped away, turning to have the horizon as he spoke. It seemed like it was a power move, but the man had incapacitated me, and even though I was regaining my strength, he still had the upper hand. I couldn't help but wonder to myself... was he retreating? The way he had flinched when I'd touched his fingers. The move away from me was clearly meant to be nonchalant, but it felt more like he was hiding something, retreating, unwilling to confront more physical contact.

So, the game was back on.

And he had upped the stakes, too.

"Skirtopanol?" I replied, "the chemical that is known for making a subject more sensitive to pain and torment? Bold of you to assume a Lucite isn't used to such a drug."

For a moment I leaned back in the seat, tilting my head back and closing my eyes. As the haze melted away, I felt the distinct buzz of the skirtopanol coursing through me, as if each and every nerve ending had been given a boost in sensitivity. My expression became blissful, the memories that accompanied this sensation drawing a soft moan from my lips. I remained there as William spoke, asking the first of what I assumed would be many questions.

He stood where he was, away from me. I allowed myself a few more moments to ensure I'd have my balance, and then rose from the chair to approach him. Already I could feel the distinct pull in the back of my mind, the inexplicable desire to answer the question truthfully.

I waited until I stood directly in front of him, tilting my head back to peer directly into his eyes, whether he looked back or not. Reaching out, I sought to trail my fingers down his arm, slowly and gently towards his hand in an attempt to gently tug it free from behind his back. If he allowed me, I'd cant my head to one side, seeking to place his fingers on my exposed cheek.

You might have the power, but I don't fear it

"Mmm seeking a countryman from another order," I corrected, my tone almost a dreamy purr, "not necessarily to aid him. I was curious."

Another soft sigh as I began to feel more myself, more alive with the physical effects of the skirtopanol, compelled by its psychological traits,

"My name is Sylvi. I was drawn by the priest's cry for help, but I did not know him. His suffering called me because I wondered if there was anything it could teach me. I do not fear pain, and I do not fear it from you, William."

I knew better than to try and fight the drug, so instead I relaxed into it, allowing all the truths to come out. My other hand moved up towards his face, seeking to gently brush my fingertips across his cheek unless he pulled away. It would likely be pretty evident how much more sensual I'd become, perhaps uncomfortably so. In fact I was hoping it would be uncomfortable or at least unexpected enough that he might be taken by surprise, have to rethink a few of his next moves.

"You intrigue me, you unsettle me. I see something beneath your mask, a crack in the near perfect facade. I don't know what it is but I'd like to find out. I might die trying, that does frighten me. Finally... I've been trying to summon enough magic to probe into your mind, but have been unsuccessful. If I'm not released before the drugs wear off I will continue to try."

Well... you asked.






[member="William the Bloody"]

 

[William the Bloody]

She spoke of the drug as if they were on a first name basis. By her words she inferred that she had some amount of familiarity with both pain and torment. It was useful information that he added to his profile of the young woman. The ease of accepting that he knew that she was indeed a Lucite amused him. He allowed the corners of his mouth to rise for a few moments before erasing the expression. The first rule of being interrogated is never offer information. The second rule is never confirm the information your interrogator has, for without admittance the facts are just theoretical and circumstantial.

She took a small amount of time to allow the effects of the hallucinogenic drug to subside which gave William a small window to self-reflect. He could not assume his break went unnoticed. He understood very well that she was quite good at the game they were playing. If it was he, in her place, he would seek to use the perceived weakness to his advantage. Make him uncomfortable, unbalance him, disorient him through the use of physical contact. It would be a clever ploy, and one he would use to go on the offensive.

So he felt he knew what her actions would be, though, in this game of careful maneuvering, nothing was set in stone. He heard the young woman rise as he considered his options. The first would be to stoically show her the flinch meant nothing. The second was to play along with his misconceived weakness allowing her to think that she had pulled a trump card from the deck, one that might give her victory. Yes, that was what he would do.

He indeed flinched. There was no denying that. But the reason for his break was not due to having physical contact but, rather, that he had not seen it coming. He was a very reserved being wanting full control of every aspect of every scenario. The contact came unexpectedly from a source he had not anticipated being capable or desiring to initiate it. William did not like either his body or mind being manipulated in any way without being prepared for it having given express permission. He acknowledged that it was, in fact, a weakness. But one he could utilize, because he was able to recognize and accept certain shortcomings.

Her small hands began to manipulate his and he gave a calculated start, a jerk of surprise. Allowing her to bring his fingers to her cheek his expression flickered to one that revealed an uncomfortable situation for himself. Her words flowed over him as his eyes closed. The contact was exquisite, her skin as smooth and warm as he imagined it would be. A quick swallow was given to reveal his discomfort according to the weakness he was portraying. The sound of her sigh affected him more than he would have liked, but less then he acted it did.

Slyvi. Her name was Slyvi. She admitted to being drawn by suffering and curiosity. A search for knowledge perhaps. He added this information with what he had already observed as well as what he had gleaned from Hari. The next statement of having no fear from pain or him was a declaration that tempted him sorely to test her theories about herself. But he restrained. For now.

Her hand rose to caress his cheek and with the contact he winced as if pained. William nearly clapped at his performance for even he almost believed his reaction was real. Almost. Beneath her light touch she would feel heat radiating as though he was feverish. Slyvi spoke of his cracked exterior and how it called to her. How she feared death but wished to know more. And how she wanted to probe his mind and, unless released, how she would do so.

His face turned ever so slightly into her hand allowing her access. His own fingers traced the curvature of her cheek, a sharp nail lightly dragging across the corner of her lip. Now he guarded his features to show he was trying to stay in control. Yet he had not lost it since the first flinch. Sylvi spoke of being released from him. Add so he had ensnared her without shackles. The thought was pleasing to William.

“What are you seeking for? What do you want?”

Simple questions upon the surface but complicated all the same. What did she want? And what price was she willing to pay?

[member="Sylvi"]

 

[Sylvi]

The Skirtopanol coursed through me, a pleasant hum as the cool breeze rolled across my skin.

Normally, such a sensation heralded exquisite agony and torment at the hands of my family. In fact, I found a growing sense of angst in anticipation for a strike or a blow that hadn't yet come. The breath that I drew was long, almost shuddering with the heat of expectation and fearful excitement. This made concentrating a little more difficult than it would normally be, so I kept my gaze intently on the man before me. As I had expected, he flinched at my touch. We stayed locked together for a few moments, his hand on my cheek, mine on his. It occurred to me that for a moment, we might look like gentle lovers. A mere passerby would never assume that this was a battle, potentially to the death.

His fingers traced over my cheek, a long, sharp nail dragging across my lower lip. Instinctively I reacted with a slight pout, lifting my chin just a little, as if trying to coax him into drawing blood.

Beneath my own hands, he felt far warmer than I had expected. Yet, no beads of sweat glistened on his brow, nor had he seemed uncomfortable or sought to shed his jacket. My thoughts drifted back to the way his eyes had flickered. That had... been a hallucination, right? I hadn't seen that until after he'd poisoned me... hadn't I? Would that I could continue this train of thought, but he spoke again, continuing this most gentle of interrogations.

"William," I purred, "you're so elegantly spoken, what happened to you? You've been reduced to the simplest of questions."

I allowed my fingers to trail up his cheek, to run through his hair on one side,

"Ultimately, I seek enlightenment, for me, for my family the Lucites. You knew the name of my people, surely you know how enlightenment comes. I also seek members to bring into the fold, to repay my debt to the family by bringing more souls unto them to begin their own journey to enlightenment."

My eyes closed for a moment. That was what I sought.

"I want to learn all I can about you. What you are, why you cower and hide... what you can teach me."

A pause,

"You would have made a good Lucite."





[member="William the Bloody"]

 

[William the Bloody]

He was like a wounded animal under her careful ministration. Her gaze told him it was safe, her hand comforted him, her presence was like a salve. The troubled and wounded expression that had spread across his face inviting her dominion over him with her power of words that slipped from lips brushed by a finger. The point of her shapely lips and upturned face inviting him to scour her immaculate skin. Indeed, if they were seen it would be a picture of intimacy as their bodies closed the distance.

The silken words tickled his ears as they stung just slightly. A twitch at the corner of his eyes, a tightening and then her hand was in his hair and the moment of irritation had passed. His face turned into the stroke, black hair parting with the passing of her fingers. Perhaps he had neglected certain more primal urges and that was why he was affected by the diminutive Lucite before him.

Before he spoke, she continued, answering his simple queries. The thrall of the Lucites seemed to not only be ingrained within, but was tempered with the breaking of body and spirit, things he well understood. To build up the order through a short of mission work that brought more into the fold for indoctrination, training, and the breaking. His grandfather had taught him many things about taming a creature, things that worked well with sentient beings. But first you had to decide what you wanted from the creature. A broken vassal or an obedient subject that you bent to your will, forging your desires within it and handing the lessons home. All without destroying that spark of will power. It was a delicate line to tread, abd most beings are worthy only to be broken. But few, very few, deserved the attention to detail and commitment to forge something in an image you desire without destroying the promise within.

He stiffened. … cower and hide … echoed in his ears. He had played his part so well that he had convinced her that the crack she had seen went to the depths of his very soul. Assuming he still had one. His had trailed down her chin, nail tracing the line of her jaw, the barest hint of touch upon her neck as fingers caressed the sensitive skin just below the ear. Then he spoke, his words a mere whisper.

“First lesson.”

His hand widened and opened, wrapping around her throat in a sudden display of strength and aggression that belied the soft touch from moments earlier. His nails elongated sightly beginning talons that pierced her flesh, anchoring his hand around her neck. The touch of her hand upon his face as head would register heat, heat that would scald skin if it remained. Pupils elongated and stayed, no trick of the eyes this time, a nimbus of glowing red sparking from within. Gone was the inviting, emotional exterior. Instead a cold smile crossed his lips, teeth gleaming. His canine teeth seemed to be elongated.

“Teach you? That's an assumption that you are worthy. I could introduce you to such agonizing pain that it would border on ecstasy. I can open your eyes beyond the superstitious beliefs to introduce you to a whole new galaxy of opportunity. I could show you how to become someone else so completely that you would begin to believe it yourself. But no. I do not think I will.”

William released her and viewed her with disappointed disdain.

“You classify yourself as a Lucite and cut yourself off from so much more. Just as the Jedi and Sith. No, I do not believe you are worthy of my time. You may take your leave.”

He motioned with his hand as if shooing a dog, his lack of interest in her complete.

[member="Sylvi"]

 

[Sylvi]

With my fingers on his skin, I sought to feel every tiny physical mote of discomfort and emotion. Every twitch, every suppressed breath of primal desire or anguish, I wanted it all.

The stillness between words seemed to reveal more than the words themselves. Words could be lies or manipulative or misconstrued, the body was much more honest. Even then, everything about William had been pure control. It tugged at the back of my mind how easily I'd been able to draw out this apparent weakness. What if this was the tail this lizard shed? A sacrificial thing of little importance to distract me from something that could actually harm him?

His fingers moved to my jaw, lightly brushing my skin with a soft but heavily controlled touch. I felt a soft murmur of a moan rise up from my chest and after a moment's internal conflict, let it out with a soft breath. Almost in tandem with my purr, he spoke, almost a whisper of warning, two words.

First lesson

Suddenly his hand wrapped around my throat, those long nails seeming to extend and prick my skin. I let out a sharp gasp of surprise, my hearts all racing in unison. The skirtopanol amplified his touch a hundred fold, the tiny points of sharpness each a powerful sting as he held me in place. At the same time, beneath my fingers I felt a flash of heat, like the man himself had just ignited with invisible fire. It was instinct that drove my hands to his, tightening around his wrist. I could feel his forearm taut as every muscle was tightened, keeping his powerful hand around my throat.

I stared up into the face now utterly devoid of pleasantness, the mask discarded to reveal glowing crimson eyes and elongated fangs, as though it was a demon that held me, not merely a man.

It was a demon who very likely felt the violent shiver that racked my shoulders, felt the dozens of pseudo-hearts all madly racing throughout my body, even felt my breaths become shallow and rapid. It was all part of the reaction of fear, right? It had always fascinated me that fear, excitement, even lust, all had remarkably similar effects on the physical body. Who am I to distinguish between them?

He spoke again, his words cutting far deeper than his talons had. He made such wonderful promises, dangling them before my eyes before snatching them away and releasing me with disdainful disregard. With the fear, the pain from his talons, and every sensation trebled by the drug, I wavered for a moment, before sinking to my knees, my dress billowing around me as I did.

There was a heaviness that settled in my chest, a distinct, unsettled fluttering in my stomach. With a sudden flash of coldness, I realized that while I thought I'd been working my way into William's mind, he'd found his way into mine. All this time I'd believed I could escape him if I wished, that I could simply turn and leave. But now, even though he not only allowed me, but shooed me away... it had never been an option. The demon had ensnared me the moment I chose to sit with him.

Wide eyes turned up to him, a trembling, soft, pleading voice following,

"What... would it take to become... worthy?"

My words were barely whisper, as though my family was nearby and might hear them. Indeed, such a question would have been met with severe reprimand if it got back to them. But... they had raised me to be curious, and my life could not go on until I had immersed myself completely in this mystery before me.






[member="William the Bloody"]

 

[William the Bloody]

"What... would it take to become... worthy?"

Her words echoed out, a plea. He stood impassable as though etched from stone. Eyes stared down at her. Who was she? What potential existed? What promise? Was she a creature he would break, or was she worth the time and effort to push her to the edge of breaking? Could she be worthy? Eyes looked at her, through her, within her. A cold smile touched his lips like the first frost of winter.

“Worthy? Are you willing? I'm not convinced … not yet.”

The wind swirled picking up strength as it coursed across the meadow. The Knight Hunters circled the duo and drew their blades. Doggo emerged from the pavilion and raised her snout to blend her howl with the raging wind that now circled the pair. Soil rose within the temptest. The evening light was blocked by the maelstrom that surrounded them. He began pacing around the woman.

“Lucite. Sylvi. Woman. Those are descriptions of what you are. But now who you are. Are you weak? Or are you the unending strength? Are you crushed by circumstance? Or do you rise above? Are you lost in the darkness? Or are there embers of your spirit that cannot be extinguished? Are you overwhelmed by the light? Or are you the shadow that can never be illuminated? Are you worthy?”

He spoke louder and louder over the storm. Stopping in front of her again, William raised his hands out to either side, drawing on the Force. Lightning leapt from his left hand and red flame his right. Into the whirlwind blue lightning danced as fire writhed.

“Will you be crushed by history and forgotten, not even a cliff note in the annals of time? Or are you capable of rising from the ashes of stagnation that infects the galaxy and be worthy of import? Are you prepared to be stripped of the trappings you garb yourself with? Are you ready to be scourged and lose the things that are what you are in order to find who you are? Are you the Spider? Or are you the fly?”

As the blue and red light cast shadows and illumination over them William approached her. Stopping directly in front of the kneeling woman he crouched and, gently as a lover, tilted her chin to look into his eyes. The blood upon his fingers left ghastly streaks of coagulated blood upon her face as he looked deep trying to find the answers he sought.

The grass reached out and clung to her wrists and legs anchoring her. The lightning and fire swirled seemingly alive of their own volition. He drove his mind into hers, a violation of intimacy as he sought the answers that evaded him. He rushed along skimming memories. Seeing her abduction and the waste of killing her mother who fought with such passion she could have been controlled by using Sylvi. Flitting around he saw training and torture, fights that should never have advanced if the right skill set had been taught. He saw that she believed in conquering through words, manipulating with a look, and overwhelming with charm. She appeared to not be the aggressor and, thus, reacted to others when they resorted physically. William's disdain for her teaching grew. You play the game but always plan several steps ahead. Her stubbornness even in the face of damage to herself impressed him.

As he flicked through her memories as easily he had the journal earlier, he allowed shadowy memories of his own drift to Sylvi. Learning art, reading classics, experiencing the slow beat of patience his mother's race experienced. Learning how to wear the trappings of an aristocrat, decor, how to fence another with words or physical responses. The skin being ripped from his flesh as his grandfather taught him that pain had no control unless you gave in to it. That fear was a mirage, a warning of danger. She saw him abandon that which he was taught. Watched him working with criminals to learn that it was only power that mattered. Without it you were nothing. She watched as he tortured his first bounty for information, as he found he enjoyed it. Watched as he learned that pain and pleasure were two sides of the same coin. That good and evil shared the same soul. Sylvi had access to the mirror image that he saw when he looked into the mirror. The calm and collected William, and a monster too hideous to describe, one covered in blood.

Releasing her he stood back and looked upon her. And then he walked through the storm that swirled around them, abandoning her.

A howl swept from outside the storm, a silhouette approaching from without, a monstrous form that cast a very large shadow as it came nearer the storm wall, another roar escaped echoing from a ferocious creature that smelled the scent of prey.

[member="Sylvi"]

 

[Sylvi]

I didn't know whether to admire and revere William for his Mastery of the game, or hate him for how well he wielded it against me.

He wasn't convinced yet, but he had already let me know that he could be convinced. This was his plan, to make me want to convince him, so that he held all the cards, had something I wanted. The play itself was a simple one, one of the oldest, in fact, but it had an elegance to it, and he played it extremely well.

He stepped back from me, his eyes seeming to bore into my very soul as the gentle breeze rolling across the meadow seemed to pick up. It swirled around us, as the men that had accompanied him encircled us and drew their weapons. My hearts ran rampant throughout my body, beating wildly. Blood pounded in my ears, the distinct tingle of adrenaline shooting through my core. The man himself drew from the force red fire and blue lightning, shadows flickering across his features. His voice spoke, this not-quite-a-human commanding the storm around us with that authoritative tone.

"I am the spider."

The affirmation was more to myself than to him. He approached me, lowering himself to my level and tilting my chin up to look back at him, at those wild, intense, demonic eyes. For a single moment we seemed to remain there, eyes locked, each of us staring back into the other, seeking to untangle the mysteries in front of us.

Then suddenly I yelped as I felt something wrap tightly around my legs, holding them to the ground, and my wrists, pulling them away from myself and keeping me anchored to the grass on my knees. I glanced to my side with a gasp to see that the very grass itself had sprung up to ensnare me. Instinctively I tugged at the bindings, the frightful jolts of panic making my hearts sing with each unsuccessful pull. A shiver raced down my spine, the distinct sensation of pure vulnerability descending over me. My eyes turned back to William's alight with the fires of panic and excitement both. Lucites are no strangers to bonds, but this time, it wasn't my mentor before me, and it wasn't a sharpened quill that he held.

Suddenly I let out a shriek.

William suddenly and forcefully invaded my mind, painfully shoving aside my meager shields and taking the entire space for himself. Even if I hadn't been stripped of my defenses, he had a forceful power that even a mighty sith would struggle to withstand. The shriek gave way to a groan as my chest heaved, gasping to try and regain a foothold as the Crime Lord tore through my thoughts and memories.

As I fought to recover from the initial shock, I found the connection he'd made went both ways, and as he forced himself onto my memories, I was able to get a look at his. I saw them, a childhood of patience, several harsh lessons, I watched in shock the history that built the man named William the Bloody. One thing in particular caught my attention; the memory of finding out that he liked the monster he would become; that pain and inflicting it called to him. My own past had one similar; the day I had been subjected to a harsh lesson, and discovered with shameful realization that I had enjoyed it.

Oh, we two would surely end one another, so perfectly matched, to cancel each out perhaps.

By the time he released me I fell back to my knees, slumped, gasping, wrists and ankles still bound, staring up at the unbridled, unmasked monster. He stepped away from me, melting away into the swirling, rushing wind, disappearing and leaving me trapped, panting, alone.

Then sounded a howl. Even without a violent wind screaming in my ears it would have been impossible to place such a sound. I glanced up to see a silhouette begin to approach through the storm, something nowhere near human, monstrous and terrifying. Although my arms were bound and my movement restricted, I leaned back a little, pressing out my chest and lifting my chin as I raised up onto my knees a little. An invitation; maybe for the creature, maybe for the utterly overwhelming terror that gripped my mind. My tether to sanity was weakening, my mind spinning, my hearts racing so fast I couldn't even feel them anymore. I didn't know what was going to come next. I didn't know if I would even come out of it alive. I just knew that I needed to see this out, to know what happens, to prove I was worthy.

"Come on!" I cried, "I'm here!"






[member="William the Bloody"]