Sequel to Voices in the Dark; part of The Voicesverse
Summary: Ah, if words could make wishes come true...
Spoilers: Season 7 AU, takes place after my fic, Voices in the Dark
Distribution: Just talk to me, I'm easy.
Disclaimers: All Joss, all ME, all the time...
Feedback: You betta, you betta, you bet! Would love to hear from you! email@example.com
As always, this is to The Usual Suspects: Chris, Kelly, stubborn Chen. And of course, to Colleen, whose Damphyr was the first fanfic I ever read.
Unfortunately, I do not expect to see this scene in Season 7.
She waited, body poised to leap from the bed and dance in the light, arms swinging in freedom. Freedom!
Her nose tasted the still air. Not yet, not yet.
But it would be soon. She could feel the power swirl, its colors beckoning to her. Her beautiful one waited with her, for what he did not know. Then, he would see. He was as still as death.
She hummed softly to soothe him, her head moving slightly in time to the old aria like a charmed snake.
Snakes were very beautiful.
He was there now, reeling like a clown at a carnivale. She clapped her hands and made a face at the winking red lights in the ceiling. Stuck out her tongue. The black hole that had been her soul was filled with a welcome chilliness. She was free again. The pixies had told her.
As if in answer, the door clicked and fell open slightly. She flung herself at her devil. The evil one opened his mouth, put a hand up in fear.
Like a switchblade, her fingernail skimmed his wrist. She watched in satisfaction as the blood welled up and poured out. His other hand clenched around the cut. His mouth was a round 'o.'
More. And oh, to bathe in it! She wished she could slather that red paint across her breasts, between her legs, her back her arms, her face. Everywhere he had corrupted with his filthy grunts and grasping hands.
Her next slash was to the artery at the left side of his neck. A negligent sweep back with the same hand severed the right. The blood spurted. She stepped back, as if suddenly afraid he would infect her with sickness. She could smell it in him. The air was thick with it, as it whirled around her.
Continuing to slash away, she followed him down as he fell to his knees, cutting away at every major artery she could reach. At his chest. Reached for his heart. All with the fingers of her right hand.
Oh, so elegant death could be. At least for the giver of it. Life flowed into death. So it had always been. Except for those such as her.
Finally, he slumped to the floor, gurgling like a springtime brook. His legs twisted behind him. Unnatural could be so natural. She knelt beside him as the blood spread around him. She pulled up her skirt like an old farm wife to keep it from staining with the vicious fluid that she suspected ran as acid through his veins.
Drusilla's partner appeared at her side, kneeling as she was, almost in supplication. His hair was golden in the stark light. He reached forward to touch the blood.
Nasty, tainted poison.
She slapped his hand away and thumped his nose. He backed off, looking at her in confusion.
"Sick blood," she hissed in explanation. "Like burning rags in a coal fire. Fit only to be washed away, my lamb. Washed and then scrubbed with mama's lye soap until the infection cannot spread." She got to her feet, surveying the broken body as it continued to bleed out. "He is not for you. He is fit for nothing and no one. Not even for a hole covered in dirt," she spat out. She looked deep into her torturer's eyes as he tried to speak through the bright red bubbles and pink froth.
She waved four exquisite fingers and waggled them at him, smiling brightly. "Ta."
The princess swept out of her tower prison, knight trailing her, never to look back. The door closed with a click.
Continued in Part 19