Post by dakkon on Feb 23, 2009 23:52:47 GMT -5
“Thank you for coming” Rosette sat on the corner of her bed, a ragged quilt wrapped over her thin satin nightgown. Her eyes were locked unwavering on the silhouetted man standing in her bedroom doorway. “I need a man killed. There’s a bounty in it already but I...I need to see him suffer myself. I’ll give you anything you want.” To bring home the point she let her quilt cascade down off her shoulders, its fabric pooling around her slender hips. With her pale skin exposed she couldn’t hide the goosebumps as the man walked up to her, put his hand down on the bed by her and whispered in her ear, “Be at the alley behind the miner's storehouse in three hours. As for payment, you don’t have anything I want, yet, but I’ll start with this.” Her eyes shut involuntarily as he breathed his last words, expecting his shadowy hands to reach out to touch her. Instead she felt a shock of cold and opened her eyes in time to see her walking out with his prepayment in tow. That #%$&^* had taken her quilt.
Three hours later found Rosette pacing in the quiet alleyway. She hadn’t slept after the bounty hunter left, not that he had given her any option taking her only blanket. What had he even wanted her here for?, it was cold as sin out.
An answer came in the unlikely form of a drunkard stepping into the alley to vomit. She almost disregarded the darkly clothed man until by chance the moonlight traced the outline of a scar running across his right cheek. The same scar she saw that night a month ago . Her hand went to the knife she carried on her, the knife she bought the day after He had forced his way into her room, after he had...
She stepped toward Him smoothly, anger quieting her nerves even as her fingers coiled more tightly around the knife grip. He wasn’t looking up and his wretching sounds masked her quickened breathing nicely. She paused next to him, the knife poised above his neck. When he finally noticed the shadow over him and looked up to see the knife she was rewarded with what she had fantasized about for so long. He had the same look of fear in his eyes, the same hollow expression she must have had on his face when he had done That to her. Yet somehow his was not the face she wanted to see now. At this moment, as she stabbed downward to end the nightmare, all she could think about was the freedom coursing through her blood. In this frozen instant she felt, for no better word, like a Goddess.
She blacked out after that, or did she? Her memory seemed cut into slides. Fragments of the murder shimmered around her like stars meant to overwhelm the darkness of that time a month ago. No, she remembered everything, and she savored every piece of it.
...
Kinde found Rosette laughing over the body of Black Butt, more commonly called Sheriff, a short while later. He draped the quilt he had been carrying over her shoulders and drew her close into an embrace. With a gentle caress he raised her chin up, pleased to feel her blood warm skin greeting his touch. Her eyes were the color of burning ashes, her lips burned with heat as they touched his. No earthly reward could compare to this, the chance to know the birth of an angel.
(so mori, worth any claims for taking care of bb eh eh?)
Three hours later found Rosette pacing in the quiet alleyway. She hadn’t slept after the bounty hunter left, not that he had given her any option taking her only blanket. What had he even wanted her here for?, it was cold as sin out.
An answer came in the unlikely form of a drunkard stepping into the alley to vomit. She almost disregarded the darkly clothed man until by chance the moonlight traced the outline of a scar running across his right cheek. The same scar she saw that night a month ago . Her hand went to the knife she carried on her, the knife she bought the day after He had forced his way into her room, after he had...
She stepped toward Him smoothly, anger quieting her nerves even as her fingers coiled more tightly around the knife grip. He wasn’t looking up and his wretching sounds masked her quickened breathing nicely. She paused next to him, the knife poised above his neck. When he finally noticed the shadow over him and looked up to see the knife she was rewarded with what she had fantasized about for so long. He had the same look of fear in his eyes, the same hollow expression she must have had on his face when he had done That to her. Yet somehow his was not the face she wanted to see now. At this moment, as she stabbed downward to end the nightmare, all she could think about was the freedom coursing through her blood. In this frozen instant she felt, for no better word, like a Goddess.
She blacked out after that, or did she? Her memory seemed cut into slides. Fragments of the murder shimmered around her like stars meant to overwhelm the darkness of that time a month ago. No, she remembered everything, and she savored every piece of it.
...
Kinde found Rosette laughing over the body of Black Butt, more commonly called Sheriff, a short while later. He draped the quilt he had been carrying over her shoulders and drew her close into an embrace. With a gentle caress he raised her chin up, pleased to feel her blood warm skin greeting his touch. Her eyes were the color of burning ashes, her lips burned with heat as they touched his. No earthly reward could compare to this, the chance to know the birth of an angel.
(so mori, worth any claims for taking care of bb eh eh?)
