M A D N E S S
Oh, I know... dreadful, remember?
The cold stone floor, the rank air, and cages that nestled beneath the beauty that was Castle Black... But wait, I am getting ahead of myself. Before the dread.... Ripe, green vegetation spread for miles and crawled up the structure in dainty, sometimes petal dotted vines. Bright red blooms, deep viridian spires that spun around and within. Splotches of colored glass draped every tenth block of dusky bone. The structure dominated and sprawled, at times cast away the very orb of life that danced behind its elevation during the day and appeared illuminated and drawn in the soft halo of light the goddess moon offered at night. Torn right out of a fairy tale and cast upon the galaxy by the hand of Ferrius.
Deep, deep beneath the facade- stories under the very foundation and the anticipated, model prison- loomed something much darker in the flickers of many a flame; a dungeon designed for creation and decay. For pain and the licks of pleasure. Where dirt and ancient stones were the floor, something akin to marble or crystal that felt hot to the touch for walls, and layers of cells that ran the length of the castle above. Runes and ancient type etched into the sulfur-stained archways, torture apparatuses hung from the reinforced ceilings, and the sweet smell of dark power swelled in the air leaving nothing more than fear to be breathed.
Do you remember yet?
It was the same cold steel from centuries past. The same streaks of blood that had dried and crusted. As if time itself had stopped, a body of an identical prisoner rested on the old medical gurney. She too appeared to not have been touched, but held life in her yet. Such a life that would never be her own. On the other side a different body that shared a eerie similarity, but ravaged beyond repair with the shallow breathing that surely came when death was knocking. Destiny had no hand in this. No. This was the doing of a one Jerimiah Black. Both sick and twisted, he lived through the centuries seemingly never aging and always hunting, learning, dreaming. Always wanting what he'd lost. Perhaps he had clones of his own? But this is not so much his story as it is of the infatuation.
Chapter One:
Finally, that day had came and on the orthodox neutral planet of Lianna. Dusk had finally set in, and in the moment that could have been her demise, the sociopath had saved her. From herself no doubt. This was Steph Zenima afterall. As gentle as he'd never been, Jerimiah's arms sank to the ground when he lowered enough, torso looming over her. His hands slid underneath her dead weight until he could roll her form into his hold. "There you are," as if they had been playing hide-n-seek all along. For centuries. He could smell the rot in Zenima, could feel her life slipping away.
If he was anything it was stubborn... Stubborn and patient. And mad as in crazy. Past that even.
Black stood and in the dead of night, took off on foot with Steph in tow to take his queen back to her castle. "I am requesting you presence, Anesia," he piped over the com, the woman draped over his thighs. There were many things he could do. Not this though. This was his Master's area of expertise. "I have [member="Steph Zenima"]." The freighter was small, but housed the necessities of a surgeon, a survivalist. A mad man, really. There was enough there to slow the process and prolong her life. He moved with cool efficiency, the sheen of sweat reflecting from his military cut white-blond hair at the overhead light just where he put her. Jerimiah stood staring for seconds at a time then began the tedious tasks of pumping her full of liquids. Dewormer anyone?
The castle was a hop away. "Steph... Steph..." his head shook. He was the only one allowed to torture her. Who had done this? She would need her memory to tell him and her memory she would have, Along with another body, a sterile one. "Now that I have you back..." Jer's voice softened and darkened at the same time, "I won't need the others...except the one. They meant nothing, baby. I swear." Others? Yeah. A litter of clones that looked just like her. But mindless and subservient. They didn't have the fight in them that she did.
The cold stone floor, the rank air, and cages that nestled beneath the beauty that was Castle Black... But wait, I am getting ahead of myself. Before the dread.... Ripe, green vegetation spread for miles and crawled up the structure in dainty, sometimes petal dotted vines. Bright red blooms, deep viridian spires that spun around and within. Splotches of colored glass draped every tenth block of dusky bone. The structure dominated and sprawled, at times cast away the very orb of life that danced behind its elevation during the day and appeared illuminated and drawn in the soft halo of light the goddess moon offered at night. Torn right out of a fairy tale and cast upon the galaxy by the hand of Ferrius.
Deep, deep beneath the facade- stories under the very foundation and the anticipated, model prison- loomed something much darker in the flickers of many a flame; a dungeon designed for creation and decay. For pain and the licks of pleasure. Where dirt and ancient stones were the floor, something akin to marble or crystal that felt hot to the touch for walls, and layers of cells that ran the length of the castle above. Runes and ancient type etched into the sulfur-stained archways, torture apparatuses hung from the reinforced ceilings, and the sweet smell of dark power swelled in the air leaving nothing more than fear to be breathed.
Do you remember yet?
It was the same cold steel from centuries past. The same streaks of blood that had dried and crusted. As if time itself had stopped, a body of an identical prisoner rested on the old medical gurney. She too appeared to not have been touched, but held life in her yet. Such a life that would never be her own. On the other side a different body that shared a eerie similarity, but ravaged beyond repair with the shallow breathing that surely came when death was knocking. Destiny had no hand in this. No. This was the doing of a one Jerimiah Black. Both sick and twisted, he lived through the centuries seemingly never aging and always hunting, learning, dreaming. Always wanting what he'd lost. Perhaps he had clones of his own? But this is not so much his story as it is of the infatuation.
Chapter One:
Finally, that day had came and on the orthodox neutral planet of Lianna. Dusk had finally set in, and in the moment that could have been her demise, the sociopath had saved her. From herself no doubt. This was Steph Zenima afterall. As gentle as he'd never been, Jerimiah's arms sank to the ground when he lowered enough, torso looming over her. His hands slid underneath her dead weight until he could roll her form into his hold. "There you are," as if they had been playing hide-n-seek all along. For centuries. He could smell the rot in Zenima, could feel her life slipping away.
If he was anything it was stubborn... Stubborn and patient. And mad as in crazy. Past that even.
Black stood and in the dead of night, took off on foot with Steph in tow to take his queen back to her castle. "I am requesting you presence, Anesia," he piped over the com, the woman draped over his thighs. There were many things he could do. Not this though. This was his Master's area of expertise. "I have [member="Steph Zenima"]." The freighter was small, but housed the necessities of a surgeon, a survivalist. A mad man, really. There was enough there to slow the process and prolong her life. He moved with cool efficiency, the sheen of sweat reflecting from his military cut white-blond hair at the overhead light just where he put her. Jerimiah stood staring for seconds at a time then began the tedious tasks of pumping her full of liquids. Dewormer anyone?
The castle was a hop away. "Steph... Steph..." his head shook. He was the only one allowed to torture her. Who had done this? She would need her memory to tell him and her memory she would have, Along with another body, a sterile one. "Now that I have you back..." Jer's voice softened and darkened at the same time, "I won't need the others...except the one. They meant nothing, baby. I swear." Others? Yeah. A litter of clones that looked just like her. But mindless and subservient. They didn't have the fight in them that she did.
