Irikanar Grimmeor [ I dont rough up dames ]

Ooc : follow-up story on Obsession. Still ol Irikanar times.


I hear the thud of her body landing on the floor next to the bed as my hand has pushed her off me. I am busy. I know you should not push dames as beautiful as her off as she straddles you, but I am busy. The leathery cover of my book still smells like old worn books should. The feeling of warm leather. The pages makes a soft rasping sound as I turn them, my quill whispering as it notes down my every thought. I see her climbing up on top of the bed again. Her body is somewhat covered in that blue silken cover made for her bed for two. I have spent many nights here, and every night the scent of the covers and bed sheets tells me they have been washed and dried outside in the Eversong sun that same day.
She asks my why I pushed her off. I lie to her, smiling through my white perfect teeth. I laugh with that playful smile that makes the angriest shrew smirk back.
I was only playing, I say. I am sorry. I am forgiven.
I close my book and look at her. Her hair has gone back to her flaming red. But her lips are still glowing red, smeared with that lipstick I bought her. If she could only remove those damned freckles on her cheeks, and grow her lashes out, she would look much more like her. I feel the freckles taunting me, knowing they scream out to my sanity, that it is not her. This is someone else. A girl, a noble, a dancing girl with freckles. Her selfconscious smile spreads across her lips as she looks at me for security. I give her it, a false one, but she is none the wiser.
Women, they always believe what they want.
I get up, dressed only in my red hat, leaving my book and quill, and clothes, as I move across the hall. The floor is still warm from dancing feet from earlier this night. I stop by the bejeweled dragonhawk-decorated sink that pours icecold water into my cupped hands. I hear her getting back up on the bed. I look out the small window, seing the sun finally coming back up behind the hills and tall trees.
I splash my face with the cold water, hoping to numb my mind from the pictures it forces me to see. I try to think of something else. I study the sink. I think about how nobles sure know how to waste gold. I look out the window, wondering if I will ever see it rain.

”Hun’ .. Whats this?”
Her hesistant, insecure tone makes my heart drop. I walk silently into the bedroom, not granting her the sound of my footsteps. Her long red hair lies tangled down her shoulders and chest, covering most of her otherwise exposed upper body. The blue covers hugging her from the waist down as she sits in the bed, with my book in her hands. My truth, my life, my raw beating heart.
The air grows electric.
In the matter of one beat of my own heart, I can feel my shadow scratching angrily to get out of my chest. I feel my tongue licking my lips. I can see my finger pointing at her. I can hear my voice.
I tell her to put it down. I tell her to give the book to me. I can feel my mouth going dry.
Her hand moves to cover her red-smeared lips. Her eyes grow wide at what she sees. She sees me. She knows. I walk up to her, though she seems unaware of this. I sit down infront of her on the bed. The agony of shadows raking through my chest makes an unsoothable anger grow quickly.
I try taking the book from her slowly. Giving her a chance. She moves her hands and my book away from me. Her emeraldgreen eyes water up quickly as she finds me.
”W-what is wrong with you?!”
I try to grab her wrist, she pushes me away. She feeds my anger with her loud voice and her tears.
It all goes black.

I can feel her fingernails deep into my arms. Her desperate hearts drumming against my fingertips by her throat. Her body twitches helplessly in my hold as her back reaches the bed. I lean over her exposed body. She looks like a fish out of water, pleading for air soundlessly. I can smell warm blood oozing out from the scratchmarks she leaves on my arms and chest. She paints my body with it, smearing it out. Still in this moment, she looks enchanting. I watch her in a deep fascination, holding her throat tighter still. I fall into shadows.

I can feel her fading away, her heartbeat soothingly more quiet and gentile. I rush my lips to hers. I want to save her life. The last beautiful breath of her, her last fire. Her breath has a warm metallic taste of blood. Her breath is heated up to the point that it almost burns my lips. My nose is pressed against her soft cheek and for a moment I breathe in deeply, savouring her sweet scent. Even her freckles smells sweet. Like milk and honey. I love the freckles now. I love her.
Her body stops fighting me, her fingerpainting is over. I kiss her more forcefully, breathing in every last part of her spirit, before she is truly gone. My shadow is soothed with every moment of the kiss.
I leave her lips to kiss the tears away from her face, knowing they will be salty against that sweet warm skin of hers. I stroke her hair from her eyes and watches her empty gaze at me.
She did not let a single tear escape those pretty eyes of hers, it confuses me. I take the book up from the floor and carefully close it. Her lipstick is smeared all over her pouting lips. A delicate tendril of rose red blood trickles down her cheek. Her pale skin glows so fair and innocently. I know the second I look away that I will always carry that image of her. I know the scent of milk, lillies and warmth skin will plague my peace of mind, the little I had to begin with.

It is time to go, before someone realizes what I have done. No, I have not done this. I would never hurt anyone. I do not kill dames.

With my quill I note down in my book as I leave her to her rest.
”You were brave kitten.”