It was difficult, even now, for her to be a shadow. A head full of golden ringlets no matter how many times she chopped them uneven could not help but court the lamp lights as she passed. In the night it had spritzed rain, slicking everything down with a dark sheen that reflected neon lights and blinking signs. It had tightened the curls until it seemed like someone had poured wedding rings on the woman's head: a yellow halo of light washing along bouncing spirals.
Most nights she was nothing more than a tall, curling blond woman in dirty clothes. She was nothing more than another beggar on Rhydins streets, another poem half-finished and untouched. Forgotten. Some nights she stood outside little white buildings and wept; listening to voices that arose in desperation, mingling her own keen with them.
Always, always, the silence.
It is the silence which broke her the most.
She knew where she was going. She could smell them, battle-field carrion, blood and fire on the wind. While she passed a harlot on the corner thrusting her hips out at a drunken man who reached to fumble at them, the harlot stopped to stare wide eyed at the blond woman who passed.
The demon that had devoured the insides of the whore watched as the blond woman passed, still. There were no words to describe what he knew, and what he had seen. As old as he was and as powerful as he was, he had never heard of such a thing ever happening. Not since...Not since lucem ferre.
Eli' did not note that the whore had stopped to stare at her. She could feel it. It crawled along her rejecting skin like fire. She did not stop and the lurker inside the prostitute could do nothing to make her stop.
Her long legs carried her deeper into the city. Into the places that mere humans were no longer welcome to tread and considered part of the menu. Where the neon suddenly turned sinister, reflecting reds into the watery streets until it looked like bright blood in puddles. She kept walking, until the smell of them overwhelmed her so much she had to stop, lean on her knees and try not to retch.
She could feel them watching her now, and they came.
In this place where her Father's rules, where His rules no longer mattered—she was no longer hallowed and they had rejected the Light Bearer, the laws that bound them both did not exist here. They came one by one, in rag-tag suits of faded white or black or red. They poured from their fetid dark spaces, wearing faces, a pregnant prostitute, a junkie with a Mohawk, a white-collar worker in blood spattered suit. They came wearing the faces of everyday, grinning and grinning and grinning at her...
But she saw them for who they were. And they saw her. They were oil and water trying to stand in the very same place.
It was the suit that spoke to her first. His skin tightened as if he was stuffed full of something unnatural. When he rolled his eyes to her beyond the whites hints of sickly green leaked, as if the evil inside strained to bursting.
When he opened his mouth, his tongue unrolled from between too-long teeth, sand-paper rasping and dripping with filth. "LLLLLLLLLLLLLITTLE LAAAAAAAAMB-SSSSSSSSSSSS, YOU HAVE WAND-ERED SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSO FAR FROM YOUR MASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTER....D-DO YOUYOU KNOW WHAT YOU DO?"
Smoke curled from Eli's skin, her hair, like fog from the water, their presence burned her—just as hers burned them. They were everywhere and still grinning and grinning but they would not come closer.
Only the suit dared.
Her eyes, the color of precious metal, still sang of all the glory they would never know. She stood, opened her arms to embrace them and sang a single word in the trumpet of her voice that washed over them like shock waves:
"Come."
Most nights she was nothing more than a tall, curling blond woman in dirty clothes. She was nothing more than another beggar on Rhydins streets, another poem half-finished and untouched. Forgotten. Some nights she stood outside little white buildings and wept; listening to voices that arose in desperation, mingling her own keen with them.
Always, always, the silence.
It is the silence which broke her the most.
She knew where she was going. She could smell them, battle-field carrion, blood and fire on the wind. While she passed a harlot on the corner thrusting her hips out at a drunken man who reached to fumble at them, the harlot stopped to stare wide eyed at the blond woman who passed.
The demon that had devoured the insides of the whore watched as the blond woman passed, still. There were no words to describe what he knew, and what he had seen. As old as he was and as powerful as he was, he had never heard of such a thing ever happening. Not since...Not since lucem ferre.
Eli' did not note that the whore had stopped to stare at her. She could feel it. It crawled along her rejecting skin like fire. She did not stop and the lurker inside the prostitute could do nothing to make her stop.
Her long legs carried her deeper into the city. Into the places that mere humans were no longer welcome to tread and considered part of the menu. Where the neon suddenly turned sinister, reflecting reds into the watery streets until it looked like bright blood in puddles. She kept walking, until the smell of them overwhelmed her so much she had to stop, lean on her knees and try not to retch.
She could feel them watching her now, and they came.
In this place where her Father's rules, where His rules no longer mattered—she was no longer hallowed and they had rejected the Light Bearer, the laws that bound them both did not exist here. They came one by one, in rag-tag suits of faded white or black or red. They poured from their fetid dark spaces, wearing faces, a pregnant prostitute, a junkie with a Mohawk, a white-collar worker in blood spattered suit. They came wearing the faces of everyday, grinning and grinning and grinning at her...
But she saw them for who they were. And they saw her. They were oil and water trying to stand in the very same place.
It was the suit that spoke to her first. His skin tightened as if he was stuffed full of something unnatural. When he rolled his eyes to her beyond the whites hints of sickly green leaked, as if the evil inside strained to bursting.
When he opened his mouth, his tongue unrolled from between too-long teeth, sand-paper rasping and dripping with filth. "LLLLLLLLLLLLLITTLE LAAAAAAAAMB-SSSSSSSSSSSS, YOU HAVE WAND-ERED SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSO FAR FROM YOUR MASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTER....D-DO YOUYOU KNOW WHAT YOU DO?"
Smoke curled from Eli's skin, her hair, like fog from the water, their presence burned her—just as hers burned them. They were everywhere and still grinning and grinning but they would not come closer.
Only the suit dared.
Her eyes, the color of precious metal, still sang of all the glory they would never know. She stood, opened her arms to embrace them and sang a single word in the trumpet of her voice that washed over them like shock waves:
"Come."