October 25, 2007
Reclining on the back of a two-toned he-wolf, a darkling faerie idly watches her blade spin on the tip of her finger. Her flesh is pale and faintly radiant, offset by the light-stealing red mohawk of tiny braids that reach down her bare shoulders. A blue-black lace bodice supports her small breasts, and ornate petticoats of the same hue smuggle her crossed legs. Puerile and pretty, with a square yet soft jaw and small nose, the set of her features would let her pass for a boy in a pinch.
Her eyes focus on a point beyond her spinning dagger a moment before the wolf's ears perk back. A low growl vibrates beneath her.
Her gaze has locked on the tall figure standing at the edge of the clearing. Rake thin and slightly bent, he slowly straightens. Their blue eyes meet, and he watches as her eyes flow over him, extracting every detail. His face is sun-licked yet fair, crested with a brown shock of hair. The long cloak that hangs from his shoulders seems to be cut from the same blue-black material she wears, and has decided that it no longer wishes to be moved by the wind. Its high collar frames his elfin features, though his red-brown chin-fur belies at least some human blood. Runic tattoos bind arcane patterns to his bare chest. Her eyes trace the sigils a moment, following them to where they are hidden beneath wide, flaring pants of black and deep blue patches.
The knife slows its spin and comes to rest, balancing delicately atop her outstretched finger.
With a measured pace, he slides into the clearing, eyes scanning the ground before him. With a silent flutter of wings, she lands on the ground between the now-stolid he-wolf and him. Her eyes offer both warning and invitation.
As he draws near, he meets her eyes and grins. His pace does not slacken.
A silence comes over the forest as they meet; he opens his arms.
She steps forward into his embrace, and easily slides the knife between his ribs.
Grin slackening into a blood-wet cough, his eyes bulge with pain and disbelief. The he-wolf lets out a sharp bark.
A long heartbeat passes in quiet, then the forest returns to it music.
She steps back to watch him fall, leaving the knife hilt-deep in his chest.
He spits blood onto the ground, looks at her and winks before collapsing to the ground. She cackles softly and ends up giggling.
The interlocking symbols on his flesh begin to glow with blue light. They flash brightly, and then dim to black. Stirring again he drags himself up to one knee. With a grunt he pulls the knife from his chest and raises his head. Grinning mischeviously, he holds the knife towards her, hilt first.
Her giggling stops and she reaches for the knife a moment too late, for it has disappeared into the folds of his cloak.
"Maybe later." He rasps.
He offers her his hand in its stead.
She takes it, pulls him to his feet, and with the he-wolf pacing their steps, they walk into the black forest.
