(Song lyrics shamelessly used is "Once Upon A Dream," from Sleeping Beauty. And, omg, it's a *dream* so lighten up, peoples~!)


Jodiah Ayreg had gone to sleep, wrapped in his blankets. He got to sleep easily enough, humming softly to himself. The damned little nymph! He didn't know how she did it, but she had enchanted him somehow. He went to his blankets then, expecting and dreading all kinds of nightmares of him being manipulated into dancing in mushroom circles, and general sorts of mischief.

I know you

Ayreg could hear the door open. He wanted to spin around, and somewhere in the back of his head, a voice screamed that it wanted it, too. He wanted to grab his sword, and defend himself. He wanted it. He did. But the only movement he made was to turn on his side, and roll to the far side of the bed.

I walked with you once upon a dream

A form slid down into the bed with him. Bare legs, only very softly lit in whatever moonlight filtered down through his window. Legs ended at mid-thigh to reveal a long shirt.

Red. Loose and flowing, not tight. The kind of a shirt a woman would wear to bed; to sleep in. Not the kind wore in public for showing off.

I know you

An upswept arm pulls the blankets of his bed over the body of the girl-- no.. she was a girl yesterday. In his mind, he was sure of that. A girl yesterday, a woman today. It was hard to explain. One minute she was one of the Harpies, the next minute.. she was older. She even looked wiser. She seemed mature, in her own way.

She cried, but it was a tale so epic as to stir tears.

The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

Fingers ran lightly down the curve of his neck, and she inched closer to him. Her hand rested there, halfway between neck and shoulder, and a gentle smile was offered. Reassurance for him, from her? No. It seemed almost as if she were pleading for reassurance from him. For him to take her into his arms, and to tell her everything would be alright.

Yes, I know it's true

Foreheads pressed to one another, body contours meeting and matching. A creamy leg draped across his own, and lips were but scant, almost unmeasurable distances from each other.

If it were an inch, it felt to be a mile.

that visions are seldom all they seem

His own rugged, calloused hand reached to the loose, red shirt. Fingers were splayed wide across her flank, and slid upward to just beneath her arm. His other hand was beneath her with its fingers buried into short crop of green hair.

But if I know you, I know what you'll do

They kissed. Not a searing embrace, but with passion enough to make angels weep. It almost felt.. pure. There was nothing lascivious about it. As if lust, as a concept, had yet to even be invented by man.

You'll love me at once

He turned. Strong, corded arms rolled her onto her back, and a single finger trailed lightly down across her delicate jawline. Emerald eyes stared up to him, and no words were passed. None needed to. The smoldering stare between them said all that needed to be said.

They made love, where none could -- or should -- ever have existed before.

the way you did once upon a dream

A far cry from the usual nightmares that plague his sleep, to be sure. Alone in his bed, Ayreg rested peacefully, entirely content with the world -- if only for tonight.

Jodiah Ayreg blinked, staring at the note that had been slid under his door. Wearing his hard leather vest, he had just come from some work at the forge -- he had to show up at least once a week, he had been told, in order to keep his position there. It was a troublesome thing, and kept him away from his duties in Rhilshen, but the hard simplicities of metal-working was a nice, relaxing exercise in repetition.

You waste your time, fool!

This note, however, was not. It was, perhaps, the first time someone simply slid a note under his door, rather than break in somehow in the small hours of the night to leave it on his pillow beside his sleeping head, or on his desk, or even (once) on his battle-scarred chest.

The penciled print was in the language of the dark elves. Hard lines, and with nearly unreadable penmanship, it took him several minutes to actually understand it enough to translate. Several lines on the paper bore the marks of erasing, but he couldn't make out the words that were once there. The paper itself was lined, the kind used in any number of schools, universities, and academies.

Old man, thank you for teaching me. I had fun.

She decieves you!

It was unsigned, but he knew who left it. It kept the lingering scent of its author -- one of burnt cinnamon and, perhaps, the sweet smell of honey. Paper fibers were notorious for absorbing ambiant smells... Laying the note into his dresser beneath a few spare shirts, he closed the drawer. Ayreg's lips twitching with the threat of a smile, he undressed and took a shower. A day at work at the Dragon's Breath was more than enough for him to have an incredibly manly, animal-like pungent stench following in his wake.

And that simply would not do if he were to extend her an invitiation tonight.

( Expect some tweaks and some additions. This was done in a hurry, and I'm so~o not done with it yet. )

The next morning - after the shower - she had tried to get him to stay with her... but he could not. He had duties, he tried to explain to her; responsibilities.

The look of sadness on her face made him want to die. The slight mist in her eyes that he would not stay there, in his room, with her. Something very near to shame started to engulf him, but he could not succumb to it now -- indeed, he didn't even have reason to! Women were able to do such strange things to men. She dressed, and he walked her to school. They did not speak much along the way, though.

As he left, walking through the nearby market on the verge of West End, his mind rolled over what had been shared between them that night. Thoughts. Words. Feelings? Hardly... but... pleasant, nontheless.

"I got your note. You didn't sign it, but it smelt of you. You are most welcome, Precious."

"I am grateful for it...your time. I realize you are a busy man."

"Not so busy as I can't make time for you, Precious."

"How's your Drow coming?"

"I am doing well. I think it angers my teacher. He has no affection for me. I have my tutors to thank...and o' course you. I do no' think I would practice so much if I did no' have you to speak to."

"Can I hold you, Precious? I feel a need to do so."

"I think I will die if you do not."

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

"...Tell me of your teacher, Precious."

"He's Drow."

"Jodiah, may I sleep with you tonight?"

"Precious, I... What-- ..I mean.. What do you mean?"

"I want to sleep in your bed with you. Please, my dark warrior, let me sleep here in your arms."

"I-- ...I cannot say no to you, Precious."

Later.

"Your wish is my will. Seize comfort in me, Jodiah. I am for you."

"You are my place of comfort, and I will be gentle with it. With you. But what am I to you? An old man. What have I to offer you for your comfort?"

"Silly, old man. Did you not think for a moment I need your comfort as much as you might need mine? Your strength allows me to be weak. I do no' need to pretend to be anything but myself. You do no' demand I smile...unless o' course I cry."

They spoke more that night, but much of it was hazy in the death knight's memory. The only thing he remembered was the fondness of her presence. Of her smile. So they slept. It was nice, having a warm body pressed against him, and exploring one another's minds, their hearts, and - yes - even each other's bodies with light, lingering touches.

Still, something had troubled him. He had no feelings for her... at all. Neither love, nor lust.. it was just.. there.

It was what it was. A quiet sort of affection, that yearned and demanded for her simple presence, and the touch of her hand upon his weathered face.

It was maddening.

And, undefiled, she had kept her honor that night. It really, and well truly was just... sleep.

The door slammed shut.

This second meeting in his room did not go near as pleasantly as the first did.

There were no soft words, no gentle touch. Anger, perhaps, frustration running amok in the nymph, counterpointed in the death knight. It was the culmination of a repeating and undeniable desire to spend time together, offset by the frustrated ardor that both had felt for their absolute lack of feelings toward one another.

Truth be told, there also seemed to be a great deal to blame on his stoic personality. His "neglect" as she had called it.

"I just want to understand, Jodiah. It isn't my desire to become a chore to you, but your... neglect...it-- I feel like I get so much more from this than you do. Perhaps, it's just I am influenced more by it, or that I just need you more. It could be so many things. I should not have come. I wanted peace, but I see I won't find that here tonight."

Her words had stung him. The little spat had fruther escalated after she had said this, and he gripped her arms in the iron grip of his hands, and very nearly shook her. His voice was raised -- a rare thing, indeed.

"You feel neglect? Closer than anyone has gotten to me in years, and you call it neglect!? Hear me, woman: you are no chore. I don't understand it, either, but I do understand that. You shared a part of yourself, and I my own, and you think I feel I don't need you? Do you have any idea what it feels like to be--"

"I am who I am. Yet you -- you who are not outstanding in any particular way, and one of the most--"

"...And you--! ...Yet--!"

"I want to understand it, too, Precious. It's tearing me apart I want to understand it so much. But I can't. All I know is that when I'm with you I feel-- ...I mean, I-- ...I'm... I feel like..."

She cut him off, declaring how there are those who did, indeed, feel her to be outstanding in her beauty. Adored and celebrated by men and women alike. Kept by friends, and lovers. Yet for all of it, for all of them, it was he who she wished to be with.

"Hear me, woman!" He had roared. Women, generally, do not appreciate being yelled at. Ayreg was out of practice.

"You-- You make me feel like a good man, again. Like I mean something to someone in this world. That's special to me. That's why you're precious.. to me. You're not at arm's length. An arm couldn't bend close enough to pry you away, were you where I wished you to be."

She then did the most unusual thing.

She punched him in the arm near to the shoulder, not with her knuckles but the side of her hand, which was the start of a small bombardment of her fists against his shoulder, chest, and arm. She'd started to sob. "Why did it have to be you!?"

Most of the time when it came to women, one might as well try to understand the sun. It simply is, and it is not to be understood. You cannot live without it, but it exacts a price. The same for women.

He stood there, allowing her to beat against his arm, against his shoulder, against his chest.

His words were.. unimportant, and not good enough. A glimmer of understanding came to her eyes, as if the reasoning behind everything she had felt had suddenly come to life. How long had she been deluding herself into thinking he could cherish her, and hold her close, and keep her safe, and keep her warm, and--?

A long time, probably.

Wordlessly, he watched her leave. As well try to understand the sun... he turned away, then, as the door shut behind her. Sitting on the edge of his bed, the aging man cupped his forehead in his palms, and sighed softly. She didn't believe him capable of cherishing her... he wasn't sure if he did, either, truth be told. He just knows that when she's around, she makes him feel like a good man.

Now, he felt dispicable.

The urge to hurt something rose in him, again, like a fire springing forth to life. He wouldn't, though. He'd just go to sleep. He had duties. He had responsibilities. Somewhere in the back of his mind, though, as he bedded down for the night for a night of uneasy, unrestful sleep...

Somewhere in there, in the back of his mind, the Voice cackled with glee.

I told you so, fool!

The directions from the note led him over the river and through the woods.

He eventually found himself on a winding path down into a shallow valley. The path was bordered on one side by an aged wood that followed the contour like the shore followed a river. There were more trees on the opposite side of the path as well, but the land was steep and the wood patchy often giving way to great stretches of green. Nestled down in the valley at the end of it all was a very modest chateau that had faired poorly under the winter weather, and before it a very overgrown garden.

Unlike the city itself, it was actually sunny (if only partially) and there were great palm sized butterflies drifting among the early flowers. There were two more buildings just visible that were set farther back -- one that appeared to be made nearly entirely of glass, and the other had been reclaimed by aggressive ivy-like vines.

And there were bugs. Lots and lots of bugs.

It was an idyllic location actually, and one might think at least a few people lived there, but none were to be seen. Jodiah Ayreg had no great love for green things, but this was good land, and set just enough out of the way as to be defensible in the valley.

He dismounted, lashing the reins to a nearby tree to make sure the shadow mare didn't run off and go galavanting about in the woods. He turned, walking with slow, calculated, measured steps towad the chateau first. The letter didn't say who it was sent from, so this might very well be Talomar Longden seeking to end their feud by drowning in each other's blood.

One hand rested lightly on the length of steel on his hip, the other was curled loosely at his side. He pushed open the door of the chateau, and peered inside without actually entering. Not seeing a soul, he turned and walked down the length of the front porch of the house, turned the corner, and began walking toward the rear. His eyes raked left and right, as if expecting a thousand murdeous, savage wombats to pop out and accost him.

He had been talking to those Ravenlocks too frequently. They kept mentioning their fear and loathing of the local wombat population.

His tension eased somewhat as he saw the green-topped nymph step out from behind a flowering bush, making herself wholly apparent and visible. She looked... nervous? His chin lowered, briefly, remembering the argument they had went through several nights past now. This would be the first time they had met since then.

He felt his muscles tensing again as more memories of what happened that night bolted like lightning into his mind, but he pushed them away and walked toward her wordlessly.

His hand rose quickly, catching her by the wrist and yanking her arm upward. Fighting with hands and feet was not the death knight's strong suit, but he made up for it against the nymph in brute strength of force. He turned her wrist, spinning her around to face away from him, and closed his arm down around her body, still holding her wrist tight. "That was a killing blow, Precious.."

Her answer was to try and drag the back of her heel down his shin and try and stomp her foot on the top of his.

Soft leather provides about as much protection as cotton does. He yelped, releasing her quickly in response to the bony little heel crushing a toe or two. Pushing her away, he stamped his foot a few times as he uttered out a few choice curses, most of which would probably not be suitable for mixed company. When he looked back up at her again, a grin began to tug at his lips. "Alright, then. Let us dance.."

He moved toward her like a snake, at that point, shoulders hunched forward. It had always been the death knight's way of fighting: absolute aggression. When one could not slip around an opponent's defenses, one simply battered them down to a pulp. He attacked her, then, balled fist coming out in a wide, swept arc toward her belly.

And, to his dismay, it landed.

Her pain was voiced in a half choked gasp, and she thought she might be sick. Doubling over; she floundered a step, but while he was close, like the girl she is, she lashed out a hand to grab at his hair.

Gray hair was yanked, and he bent double with her. Plopping to one knee -- the arthritic one -- Jodiah groaned softly, and lifted his hand slowly toward her face, his head canted awkwardly with her ninja-death-grip on his hair. "Are you alright, Precious? I didn't mean to hurt you."

Still no reply. Tears streaked down her face even as she yanked on his hair to drop him hard onto his side, sprawling out over onto his back. A little rock, though it felt like purple mountain's majesty incarnate, made itself quite known and quite painful in his ribs.

A scrambling crawl had a grass-stained nymph soon stradling his torso. She was crying in earnest now, and there seemed to be no stopping it. Her voice hitched when she spoke, the palms of her hands pressed hard to the front of his shoulders; her tears raining down onto him. "Would you have come to me, Jodiah? If I had said nothing - done nothing - would you have come back to me?" Her features turned ruddy with emotion and the scent of rain was strong.

"You value power. You give it worth. I can be strong!"

His heart bled. He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her, to comfort her. Pangs of sympathy rolled through the death knight as her tears dropped onto and about his face. "There is more to power, than strength. There is more to strength, than power."

He twisted, hands grasping her arms. She grappled with him a moment, but it all proved futile in keeping him from disengaging her from his person. Arms twisted about, his fingers bit into her skin as he half-tossed half-pushed her away. It was now her time to be in the supine position on the grass, though she probably didn't have a rock she had to come down hard onto. He copied her own action, pinning her down into the grass. "You are strong, Am'thyst. Stronger than I ever could have known."

"You would have gone back to Rhilshen!" She accused, her anger and hurt briefly showing in her face.

His voice was not the steady, even flow of words it usually was. The stoic, emotionless pattern was replaced by somewhat terse, strained syllables. He was feeling... something. Anger? Shame? "Is that what this is about, Am'thyst? Did you wish to hurt me because I left Rhy'Din?"

He held her down to the ground by her wrists, not her shoulders, looming over her like some kind of titan. "Why do you feel this way, Am'thyst? I am an old soldier, who knows nothing of the harboring of tender feelings! Surely you don't want my companionship for the rest of your days."

She shook her head and her short olivine hair haloed on the grass beneath her. Color touched her ruddy cheeks, which the green had a marvelous way of canceling out some of that red. Her voice was low and broken. "No, tha's no' it, Jodiah. I know 's wha' you crave. I am no' blind!"

"After--" Her color deepened. "After that night I spent with you..." She closed her eyes and released a breath, her body relaxing beneath his. "Jodiah, would you really have come to see me? Would you really have wanted to see me after...that? You ask why I feel this way...why do you?"

He almost shook her. Hands on her wrists were trembling, then, but their grip remained firm. He said the absolute first thing that popped into his head. "Because I am afraid!" A tear slipped from his eye, itself twitching in the angst broiling in him like hot grease in a roasted chicken.

Flinching back, she cowered just a smidge; it was seen in the eyes more than a full-body withdraw. Not that she had far to go considering their positions. His words were there between them, hanging as if the air itself had captured them and refused to let them go.

They were both exposed.

Both of them had, in some form or another over the last few encounters, shown more of themselves than they wished to show to anyone. There were things best kept in the dark, and unacknowledged.

Neither one of them had that luxury any longer, it seemed.

The grip on her wrists had loosened then, and rather than wrenching her hand out from beneath his she wriggled one down until she could twist her wrist and splay her fingers under his, coaxing his hand to uncurl beneath her touch. "Jodiah," her voice was heavy with her sorrow and her expression woebegone. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

His body shifted, and he rolled off of her. On his back beside her, their fingers intertwined on one side. His eyes were closed. Ayreg was a tight knot of raging emotions, now -- emotions he normally had preference to keep very firmly in check. The nymph had taken his world and turned it on its head.

The truth was a lie, but there it was all the same.

His own answer came after a brief pause, where the only sound was the two of them breathing. "No. You are far stronger than you know, Am'thyst."

"I forfeit to you."

(written in its entirety by Amthy <3! )

Amthy watched as Ayreg walked away from her. She was nervous. Absently, she drew her fingers over her stomach and pressed down lightly. She was sore where he?d hit her, and probably would remain thusly for a day or so yet.

The nymph was no high lady, and her request to him had flirted on inappropriate. It was surprising, then, to find she wasn?t ashamed. There was a need bubbling fitfully inside her, and that was more pressing than even her pride.

Bright green eyes skimmed over the surface of the tiered pools. He could have rebuked her. Instead, he had acquiesced to her desires. She had to wonder if he wasn?t listening to the same yearning she was; the same confusing empty-warmth that was like a separate entity with its own wishes and motivations.

Things Amthy just didn?t understand.

But then, it wasn't like they were complete strangers to one another any more. Her skin heated in memory. No, they weren't strangers.

Ayreg was just disappearing behind the door when she stood. Inside the half of the building that Ayreg had ducked into was small, but not so much to be called cramped. The structure was primary constructed of wood, but the back wall was of stone and the floor tatami mats.

A single wooden bench sat before some shelves and cubbies made of the same material. Though most of the surfaces were bare or empty, there were some plain white towels to be found. Outside of the basic changing area there was a rudimentary cistern-fed shower where the stone wall bowed outward in a deviation of the building?s lines. In that small section of the wall the shower was back-set and roofless.

The cistern itself was mounted to the roof and relied on gravity to deliver the water to the faucet. The knob only had one function-to turn the flow of water on and off. The shower head itself was designed to emulate a rain storm, and could often feel that way given the water was only as warm as the temperature outside.

While Ayreg busied himself with his preparations, Amthy had a few of her own. Built into the side of the structure was a small cabinet and magicked ice box. From one side she drew out light cotton robes for after the bath, towels, as well as wood encased bottles which contained fragrant oils. Selecting one of the bottles, she set the robes near to the spring and decanted a generous bit of the essential oil-rosemary for circulation and to cut some of the sulfur scent of the water. Jamming the stopper back in, she returned the bottles to the cabinet and turned her attention to the ice box.

A bottle of chilled fruit wine in a similar wood-encased decanter as the oils (it just didn?t do to have glass around water in case something broke) and a pair of carved wooden cups. The wine itself was crisp and clean in flavor and its sweetness was not overpowering; A Fae wine, and far more intoxicating than the flavor would suggest. These things were set on a rectangular wood tray with a flask of sweet water and a spill of grapes and strawberries before likewise being set out in easy reaching distance of the spring near to where the graduation of steps suggested the ?entrance? to the spring actually was.

It had taken no time, really, to get things situated, and once she was satisfied; she went inside the other changing room.

Her shower was not thorough. She barely wet her hair and washed the hint of sweat from her body before she wrapped herself up in a towel. Tucking the side up around her chest to cover herself, she snagged a wash cloth from a shelf and left the small shelter to return to the spring.

"You are a remarkable woman, Precious. Just when I think I have a handle on you, you shock and surprise me every time. It's a good thing."

?Were tha? I tryin? to be so, Jodiah, but sometimes I canno? help myself.?

A brief pause.


?It was hard, Jodiah, so very hard to be away from you.?

Another brief pause, though this one was spent resuming the massage over his back and shoulders.

?Has tha? been weighin? on you? Apologizing.?

"It has."

A soft groan. A massage was something the death knight very seldom ever recieved. Ever.

"I've missed you, Am'thyst. I feel like I want to be around you all the time, now."

His eyes were closed. He just couldn't shut up.

"I can't breathe without thinking of you. Look at me, even now. Here with you. Young enough to be my granddaughter.. I'm a lecher, Am'thyst, and terrible for that. But I cannot get enough of you. I've tried to deny it. I've hoped it would past. I was wrong."

Her throat was tight around the words and her lilting voice was strained. ?Do you have any idea, ol? man, wha? those words mean to me -- wha? they do to me??

"Tell me, Precious. How do they make you feel? Disgust? I would not blame you... "

?Well.. ?m no? old enough to be your granddaughter. Daughter, maybe.?

She smiled. He smiled, with her.

??s always been so hard to believe wha? you say, Jodiah. No? tha? I fancy you a liar -- because I dunn -- but because it seemed so unlikely. You say those words and ?s like the cup o? mine heart has tipped over, and everything is spilling out.?

?Why would I be disgusted?? Her eyes lifted toward his face. ?Duncha know by now, Jodiah, tha?s wha? I want? Tha?s wha? I crave??

She curled her hands over his and lifted his fingers to her mouth. A kiss was dropped to the tip of every finger.

?Jus? as I?ve doubted you, Jodiah, so too have you doubted me?but this feeling inside me won? let it lie. All the times I should have jus? given up?it won? lemme. I need you, Jodiah, more than anything -- I need you.?

Jodiah Ayreg was... unable to restrain himself, any longer. He turned to the side and stood, taking a step forward onto the next higher step and wrapped his arms around the nymph. Backwards they went, spilling out into the grass beside the mineral pool and naked as the day they were brought into this world. His lips find hers, as if by instinct; too long has it been now since they kissed. "I need you as well, Am'thyst... Are you still for me? My sanctuary?"

fingers hooked in a teasing rake over his back, and a gurgling giddy giggle answered his words. ?Always, Jodiah, always.? Elation colored her lilting voice, as did the faint huskiness of need. It was no surprise then, that there was also the sweet scent of warm honey and cinnamon clinging coyly to the air and to her body.

"I would like to know you, Precious..." he started, pausing to enjoy the frolicks of another oral embrace. His head canted to the side just-so, allowing for a perfect melding of lips.

A single leg snaked between hers, down and around, calloused footpad touching (like sandpaper) against the much softer flesh of her own foot. "...in a way only a man could know a woman.

"If you would have me."

Amthy mewled softly, ready to snuggle and whisper sweet nothings and declarations of adoration into Jodiah?s ears. They had just started to trip past her lips -- words of devotion. Words she knew she shouldn?t say only because she knew he would never return the sentiment.

She no longer cared.

Softly, she implored him to run away with her again -- for them to give up their lives and everything in it. For them to find a small niche of the world where no one knew them, a place where they could live in unhindered harmony.

It was an interesting, if not idyllic vision she created. Hope sprang eternal, and her heart was up-welling with it.

It was, perhaps, two to three seconds of trembling against her body. Nothing was said from him, and nothing needed to be... she brushed the last kiss against the outter edge of his ear.

He shot back up, suddenly, eyes now filled like a blizzard over the whites with black Saa. His lips curled into a look of disgust, and hate. The voice was Ayreg's -- the air in his lungs, and his vocal cords -- but there's an accent now that seemed implacable, and the hateful glares in his eyes was not like how Jodiah Ayreg looked upon the nymph at all.

Somewhere in his own skull, Jodiah Ayreg was stunned into silence. He tried to speak -- he heard his words -- but they seemed hollow, and not at all through his ears. He moved his hand, or tried to, and yet it didn't move. He was a prisoner in his own body; control supplanted to another force.

Am'thyst? What is happening?

Focused as she was in this, she missed the initial changes in him. Until his head shot up and his eyes were a foreign thing and no longer the brilliant green of her memory. His undisguised abhorrence was a stab into her heart. How could he look at her that way after what they?d shared? Her thoughts were scattered like leaves on a breeze. ?Jodia--.?

Am'thyst!

She lifted a hand to touch his face but her words were cut off by the hand clutching at her throat. It was a grip like iron-bound steel around the nymph's neck. This was no lover's game of asphyxiation, though. "You have distracted our hound for long enough, little girl!"

Am'thyst! Am'thyst-- NO!!

She blinked in alarm, a lack of understanding clear on her exertion and sweat touched face. His words made no sense. Panic filtered through her and adrenaline spiked through her blood. Her fingers curled around his hand, and she tried to curl his fingers away. When she made no headway that way, she writhed and bucked beneath him. She could feel strain in her face and around her eyes. She needed to breathe; She longed to breathe.

Her fragile shell demanded it.

Let her go! Release her! Do it now!

Beneath his hand, her throat bruised, and the sounds she made, though shrill, lacked volume and weight.

"Do you see, Jodiah Ayreg? Look at the consequences of growing soft in the eyes of the Nihil. This is only the beginning, worm! Watch as this pathetic little female dies, and by your own hand." He cackled maniacally, then, and his grip was like frozen rock around her throat. It tightened, ever still, squeezing shut any chance she had of gaining a breath. He leaned down over her, close to her face now as he watched her eyes roll up into her head, and he licked her face lewdly. "So tasty. If only you had used her as I would have, Ayreg. Do not forget your place again. As for you, girl... "

I'll kill you! When I find out who you are, I'll KILL YOU! Do you hear me!? Let her go!!

Lantern-like eyes rounded in terror. He released her throat then. Bile bubbled upward and stung her throat and mouth with the suddenly release, and like a great gaping fish she hungrily gulped at the air.

It felt like she was swallowing a stone.

Renewed, she clawed at his hand breaking one of her nails against his grip as she tried to worry her fingers between his hand and her throat. Drawing up one of her legs, Amthy tried to fit her heel in against the front of his hip. The bottom of her foot slid and slipped off of his wiry torso denying her the contact to kick him away from her.

Her vision swam and her head felt fuzzy with the sharp pinch of a headache. It happened so quickly. Before the thought to escape could be fully realized and acted on, her head snapped to the side. The same hand that had been choking her now smacked her roughly across the face. Amthy bit her tongue and the inside of her cheek cut on her teeth.

And then he hit her again, with the back of that same hand, and she yelped -- her voice whiskey-toned and full of gravel; the sound couldn't have been more than an asthmatic wheeze.

He sneered at her, and the hand dropped once more to return its fierce grip of her throat. "Oh, give me three days alone with you and I'd have you knowing your role in life, girl. A pity I feel him trying to claw his way back..."

Stop it! Release her, now, or face my wrath! Am'thyst!!

His hand twisted, turning her head slightly as he examined the color draining from her face. Purples and blues and greens were flaring out from his fingers, and the trimmed nails on the death knight's hand bit into her skin in a cruel sort of manner. "...You will die. Now."

NO!!

Her vision began to narrow, and around her eyes the telltale mask began to show as the flesh darkened with broken blood vessels. Her movements beneath him floundered, and she began to still.

She didn?t have the strength in her, she knew, to ward him off.

Her bond had neglected her for far too long, and she was as close to human at that moment as she was ever going to be. There was no magic for her to summon--though she tried to call for it.

There was no way for her to escape.

So many things whirled through her mind; half-formed ideas and regret at all the things left undone. He licked at her face, and she was repulsed. She hit her hands against his face, but it was a weak, scattered brush of her fingers against Jodiah?s skin. She didn?t even have the focus left to scratch.

It wasn?t supposed to happen that way.

There had to be more.

This couldn?t be it!

But it was.

Her lips moved in the barest suggestion of a word; A pursing of lips that could have been anything, but ended up being nothing at all. Her vision dimmed completely as she lost consciousness.

It was only a matter of time beyond that, that the life would be snuffed from her shell completely....