Ariadne Van'Shelaq
Little Miss Grumpy
Sometime Later
Splintered hues of red and violet streamed through the the shimmering slits of the window guard, glazing the interior of Ariadne's chamber with fickle rays of midday sun. The prying light illuminated the sin that scarred the den of the district's duchess. Strewn across the carcass of what was once a tidy bedroom, were sundered pillows, torn sheets and crimson kisses of blood, the streaks of brilliant red marring the walls and shattered headboard. The sugary scent of drugs, once cloying and heavy, forsook the air for the middling aroma of sex, sweat and an unfinished pizza in the next room over. The floating bed, once proud and stoic, now sputtered and whirred as it teetered closer to the carpet, its shredded mattress cradling the naked duo in its shaky bosom.
There, pressed against the slumbering form of one Khaleel Malvern, was the speckled porcelain form of Ariadne. Riddling her alabaster skin were blotches and bite marks, ranging from soft pinks to scarred purples and reds. A band of indigo finger marks marred the nape of her slender neck, the grisly tattoos scaling down her figure and pluming into ruby red scratch marks that haunted the pert hillocks the man had so diligently tormented in the dead of night.
Entwined betwixt the firm grip of her lover and tangled in a mess of legs, the baroness lay still and silent, the rise and fall of her chest matching the tempo of the one who lay with her. It had been an hour since she awoke, the churning thrum of traffic beckoning the lithe creature into the blinding discomfort of day. She could feel the lilting throb of her muscles tense and curl with every subtle movement, the sting of Khaleel's touch gnawing at her skin like stubborn embers. By the time dusk came, the bruises would have disappeared...the external ones anyway.
With the fleeting whispers of plethyl nitrate expiring in her body, Ariadne groggily stirred from the content stillness the late morning granted her. She could feel the warmth of Khal's breath tickle the back of her neck, the lingering scent of tobacco dancing past her nose. He was warm, warm enough for the woman to realize how odd the sensation was.
Sighing, the raven haired beauty wrenched herself away from the Underlord's figure, unfurling herself away from his greedy arms. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes and downing what was left of the water next to her bed, the woman hunched over the edge of the bed with eyes firmly planted on a blinking message that dimly glowed in the corner of the room. Painted toes grazed the sheet strewn carpet beneath her, the dull echo of the noise from outside finding no purchase in Ariadne's focus as she drearily trudged towards the throbbing holo.
Three days. It had been three days since she'd received the message and it still remained unopened. It was the blue demon in the corner of her bedroom, forever blinking and gnawing at the edge of her consciousness.
She knew who it was from.
She knew who it was about.
She knew why it was important.
Closing her eyes, the woman clenched her jaw before glancing back at Khaleel, the thrum of his heartbeat still resounding in the corridors of her mind. If only he knew.
Clasping the blinking device in her hand, the woman slinked out from the sun kissed sanctuary of her battered bedroom and took a place atop the window sill she'd so greedily claimed the night before. Naked and bathed in the glow of day, the woman toyed with the device before clicking her tongue and activating whatever stray omen existed on the other side.
She didn't need to look to know he'd awoken, nor did she need to look to know he must've been standing there longer than she thought.
[member="Khaleel Malvern"]
Splintered hues of red and violet streamed through the the shimmering slits of the window guard, glazing the interior of Ariadne's chamber with fickle rays of midday sun. The prying light illuminated the sin that scarred the den of the district's duchess. Strewn across the carcass of what was once a tidy bedroom, were sundered pillows, torn sheets and crimson kisses of blood, the streaks of brilliant red marring the walls and shattered headboard. The sugary scent of drugs, once cloying and heavy, forsook the air for the middling aroma of sex, sweat and an unfinished pizza in the next room over. The floating bed, once proud and stoic, now sputtered and whirred as it teetered closer to the carpet, its shredded mattress cradling the naked duo in its shaky bosom.
There, pressed against the slumbering form of one Khaleel Malvern, was the speckled porcelain form of Ariadne. Riddling her alabaster skin were blotches and bite marks, ranging from soft pinks to scarred purples and reds. A band of indigo finger marks marred the nape of her slender neck, the grisly tattoos scaling down her figure and pluming into ruby red scratch marks that haunted the pert hillocks the man had so diligently tormented in the dead of night.
Entwined betwixt the firm grip of her lover and tangled in a mess of legs, the baroness lay still and silent, the rise and fall of her chest matching the tempo of the one who lay with her. It had been an hour since she awoke, the churning thrum of traffic beckoning the lithe creature into the blinding discomfort of day. She could feel the lilting throb of her muscles tense and curl with every subtle movement, the sting of Khaleel's touch gnawing at her skin like stubborn embers. By the time dusk came, the bruises would have disappeared...the external ones anyway.
With the fleeting whispers of plethyl nitrate expiring in her body, Ariadne groggily stirred from the content stillness the late morning granted her. She could feel the warmth of Khal's breath tickle the back of her neck, the lingering scent of tobacco dancing past her nose. He was warm, warm enough for the woman to realize how odd the sensation was.
Sighing, the raven haired beauty wrenched herself away from the Underlord's figure, unfurling herself away from his greedy arms. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes and downing what was left of the water next to her bed, the woman hunched over the edge of the bed with eyes firmly planted on a blinking message that dimly glowed in the corner of the room. Painted toes grazed the sheet strewn carpet beneath her, the dull echo of the noise from outside finding no purchase in Ariadne's focus as she drearily trudged towards the throbbing holo.
Three days. It had been three days since she'd received the message and it still remained unopened. It was the blue demon in the corner of her bedroom, forever blinking and gnawing at the edge of her consciousness.
She knew who it was from.
She knew who it was about.
She knew why it was important.
Closing her eyes, the woman clenched her jaw before glancing back at Khaleel, the thrum of his heartbeat still resounding in the corridors of her mind. If only he knew.
Clasping the blinking device in her hand, the woman slinked out from the sun kissed sanctuary of her battered bedroom and took a place atop the window sill she'd so greedily claimed the night before. Naked and bathed in the glow of day, the woman toyed with the device before clicking her tongue and activating whatever stray omen existed on the other side.
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Message: Number 00016
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Greetings Miss Silk,
Payments for the previous monthly allowance have been accepted and have been promptly added to Sunni's account.
She's taking her first steps by herself now, a holo has been sent as proof. We just thought you would like to see it.
As discussed, her placement at -
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Message deleted
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The message abruptly silenced itself, the click of Ariadne's finger immediately vanquishing the forsaken hologram as the thrum of a tempered heart beat rocked in the haze of her mind. She didn't need to look to know he'd awoken, nor did she need to look to know he must've been standing there longer than she thought.
[member="Khaleel Malvern"]
