35. Raine by Jexi

The tiny dragon stands on the headboard and stretches his dark wings. A flutter through the delicate structures catches in a shaft of sunlight, emphasizing the golden sheen. As you chest draws in another deep breath and shivering possesses your muscles in response to the chill you’re experiencing even though the room is comfortable with balcony doors thrown wide to the warm, honeysuckle scented, afternoon air, Elleth-Saab knows he needs to let Pashen know that you’ve awakened. That was the most important, she could decide what to do with Jexibell. With that thought, the diminutive dragon vanishes.

Raine continues hurling insults as hard as she swings the heavy candlestick, her fury such that servants below have sought shelter in their private rooms, some having lived through the Jumeau and (Jasmine’s alter-ego’s) rampage begin praying. Before she’s struck the solid door for the twelfth time, a wild wind has picked up around her once more, aiding her, alternately sucking then blowing against the door she seeks to destroy. Finally, the upper quarter panel splinters and she eagerly hammers the solid metal base against it again, creating a crack large enough for her fingers to work into. She pulls and yanks, shoves and hits until she manages to break a shattered piece of wood free large enough for her to work her arm through.

“You PIG! I’m goin’ t’ see t’ your end, you depraved bastard! Let’s see how big of a man you are when I castrate you, you .. you mother-lover! RAPIST! Foul, FOUL CREATURE!” Short, midnight curls toss about wildly in the wind that has the door rattling on its hinges, the movement enough to tear at her pale flesh of her upper arm while she works to unlock the door. Success is hers and the polished doorknob finally twists freely in her other hand.

She can see you through the crack before she yanks the door open, laying in the middle of Temptress’ bed, shivering beneath the covers. You looked small and helpless with your long hair splayed out over the soft white pillowcase, your handsome features almost beautiful while long, dark lashes remain lowered, concealing their crimson glow. She doesn’t care about any of that, there is only one thought on her mind and that’s to end her ongoing nightmare by your death.

And to this end she works. Running towards the bed, she flings a leg upwards onto the top of the bed, then quickly straddles your abdomen. “I HATE YOU!” She grinds out, tears still dampening cheeks and jaw. Before her other knee is situated completely, her left hand is reaching up and drawing back, hand open and ready as she calls her dagger to her hand. The custom pummel is welcomed into her palm, Raine’s slender arm is drawn up, over her head, the deadly tip angled downwards towards your chest.

Fingers of her right hand grip into the edge of the coverlet near your left shoulder, more to still their shaking than for any amount of balance the material offered. You don’t move aside from the quiver of muscles too long unused.

A pained sound hisses past her lips and her back arches for the killing strike. It’s then that the visage of the drow she’d murdered in Vvrock’uvin looms large in her mind. Evil. You’d said she contained evil. She’d murdered a man. A stranger. So much blood and that dying gasp. The drow man’s last image was of his murderer and it was her.

Rumbling deep in her throat, a quiet, desperate growl is barely heard as the wicked blade arcs downwards but rather than piercing your flesh, sliding between bone to ultimately rupture an organ you decided you wanted to come to depend on, the dagger buries deep in the mattress above your shoulder, disappearing into the softness until only the hilt remains. With a forlorn cry, Raine realizes she can’t kill you, no matter how much she’d loathes you, she can’t kill you in cold blood. Sobbing, fingers grip the golden fabric tighter and she covers the eye holes of her mask with her other hand while blindly getting off the bed, letting go of the spread at the last moment. Shaking legs carry her to the open doors of the balcony where she gives into her grief quietly.

Removing the mask, her tortured face is bathed in sunlight that doesn’t have the power to warm the chill in her heart or touch the sorrow in her soul.

Wed, May 18th – 10:51PM