Til Death, Bind Us
Saturday, August 19, 2006
"Bind me to you, Athamé. And I shall never be far."
More than once he had asked her to bind them in ritual. In the here and now. And again he would offer himself to such sacrifice.
"Are you certain, this is what you want, Vedric?" Asked she, drawing the flat of her blackened dagger along his flesh.
Briefly did his breath hitch as the cold metal laced against his skin. Steel, unyielding and unforgiving, did have a rather perverse sensuality about it. The Metal Worker was well acquainted with it. Like a long-time lover he knew it well. How like an aphrodisiac then, its current effect bore upon him now. How many implements of death had his own hands fashioned over the many decades? How many had pierced the flesh and drawn their sacrificial bloodshed on any given battlefield? Would it now come full circle? With his blood?
"Yes," he had whispered upon pent breath, expelled. "And with mine eyes, I long to see the thing no man has seen before, Athamé." Which was chiefly her, painted in his blood and pattering out her frenzied dervish.
"You will be changed forever," Said she, outlining his naked groin with
the tip of the blade.
Not unlike the night he'd pressed his hand to her bloodied print that had formed itself on the peeling plaster of an insula wall, he seemed easily to succumb once again to this vexing spell of hers. Eyelids slowly blinked, as if heavy beneath their own drowsy weight... yet never did he take his eyes from her face. Down at his sides, his calloused hands curled into fists, knuckles pressed hard against the floor. Between the cross of his limbs too, his erection grew painfully stiff.
"I am already... forever changed, my seraph." Chanting this whispered litany, there had never been any opt for retreat.
More than once he had asked her to bind them in ritual. In the here and now. And again he would offer himself to such sacrifice.
"Are you certain, this is what you want, Vedric?" Asked she, drawing the flat of her blackened dagger along his flesh.
Briefly did his breath hitch as the cold metal laced against his skin. Steel, unyielding and unforgiving, did have a rather perverse sensuality about it. The Metal Worker was well acquainted with it. Like a long-time lover he knew it well. How like an aphrodisiac then, its current effect bore upon him now. How many implements of death had his own hands fashioned over the many decades? How many had pierced the flesh and drawn their sacrificial bloodshed on any given battlefield? Would it now come full circle? With his blood?
"Yes," he had whispered upon pent breath, expelled. "And with mine eyes, I long to see the thing no man has seen before, Athamé." Which was chiefly her, painted in his blood and pattering out her frenzied dervish.
"You will be changed forever," Said she, outlining his naked groin with
the tip of the blade.
Not unlike the night he'd pressed his hand to her bloodied print that had formed itself on the peeling plaster of an insula wall, he seemed easily to succumb once again to this vexing spell of hers. Eyelids slowly blinked, as if heavy beneath their own drowsy weight... yet never did he take his eyes from her face. Down at his sides, his calloused hands curled into fists, knuckles pressed hard against the floor. Between the cross of his limbs too, his erection grew painfully stiff.
"I am already... forever changed, my seraph." Chanting this whispered litany, there had never been any opt for retreat.
"I have never known that kind of pain could exist. It was rare, exploding across my eyes and down into all my extremities like a firebrand of lightning. For a moment... for just one split second... the taste of Death was erased from me, and I would writhe in this agony the rest of my days. For I am surely in Hell. My eyes sting. And I am blind. Scorched beyond numb. Kali has bitten into my flesh and has devoured me alive. My life flows from these many gaping wounds. And I shall never heal."
