#9 – Storyteller
Days went.
He hadn’t been counting them for years. He had started again not long ago, and had stopped again their count. He didn’t believe in the dwarf’s promise anymore. He had had a ray of hope, a ray which hadn’t taken so long to disappear, but which had reawaken in him a flame that he hadn’t expected to burn again, a need for freedom that he believed to have put aside a long time ago.
Above his head, a ray of light was shining. He knew that he could reach the opening, that he could see outside… hanging from the bars of his cell’s window. He had indulged in such a move when the clamour had told him about the dwarf’s escape.
So close, so far away, the luminous pendulum that showed the days’ passage, was shining for him again. He forced his body to shift again, to move as he had done in the first days of his captivity. He folded and unfolded his long members, stretched them, pushed them to the end of their resources. In his head was playing the melody that was haunting him since the day he had been confined here, since the pendulum had been taken from his eyes.
He flattened himself on the ground and started to lift his body up and down, at the rhythm of the lyrics he had written so long ago…
“I’ll decorate this city, in ribbons of blood
On ev'ry single avenue, in ev'ry darkened street
I’ll decorate this city, in ribbons of blood
With ev'ry beating heart I pull, from ev'ry soul I meet
‘Cos killing is my business, and business is good
I’ll hunt 'em all down, in ev'ry damn neighbourhood…”
His freedom was also his business. Time was coming. Under his mask appeared savage desires, unappeased for too long. He shrank himself and took a contrite and pitiful look – a look which, some months ago, he had no need to mime. A look which, except for the small escapee, he would maybe never have needed to mime again.
A Zoraï a bit smaller than him, heavily armoured, came to the door and unlocked it. He seemed to be alone, on the other side of the gate, but was surely not. He never was. Even after all those years, he could only be alone with himself. Never with someone else. He had never counted less than seven of them when they came to enchain him and have him outside of the dark lair that kept him prisoner.
“Come on, Beast, it’s time for Ma’Duk’s devotions. If you really want to join his worship, you don’t want to miss them today. Chaoi, the Bonze, wanted to see you.”
He looked at the armour’s configuration, its weaknesses, the place on the throat where the artery beat, whose mad beat betrayed the tension of the homin who, behind his calm mask and his apparent solitude, knew that he was risking his life to lure him. He drooled over the thought of the satiny taste of the blood of the frightened Zoraï, at the dream of his fangs sunk into this tender, juicy, succulent flesh…
He handed his wrists.
“I’m to be chained.”
[OOC]Original version of the song written by Jim Steinman[/OOC]
Days went.
He hadn’t been counting them for years. He had started again not long ago, and had stopped again their count. He didn’t believe in the dwarf’s promise anymore. He had had a ray of hope, a ray which hadn’t taken so long to disappear, but which had reawaken in him a flame that he hadn’t expected to burn again, a need for freedom that he believed to have put aside a long time ago.
Above his head, a ray of light was shining. He knew that he could reach the opening, that he could see outside… hanging from the bars of his cell’s window. He had indulged in such a move when the clamour had told him about the dwarf’s escape.
So close, so far away, the luminous pendulum that showed the days’ passage, was shining for him again. He forced his body to shift again, to move as he had done in the first days of his captivity. He folded and unfolded his long members, stretched them, pushed them to the end of their resources. In his head was playing the melody that was haunting him since the day he had been confined here, since the pendulum had been taken from his eyes.
He flattened himself on the ground and started to lift his body up and down, at the rhythm of the lyrics he had written so long ago…
“I’ll decorate this city, in ribbons of blood
On ev'ry single avenue, in ev'ry darkened street
I’ll decorate this city, in ribbons of blood
With ev'ry beating heart I pull, from ev'ry soul I meet
‘Cos killing is my business, and business is good
I’ll hunt 'em all down, in ev'ry damn neighbourhood…”
His freedom was also his business. Time was coming. Under his mask appeared savage desires, unappeased for too long. He shrank himself and took a contrite and pitiful look – a look which, some months ago, he had no need to mime. A look which, except for the small escapee, he would maybe never have needed to mime again.
A Zoraï a bit smaller than him, heavily armoured, came to the door and unlocked it. He seemed to be alone, on the other side of the gate, but was surely not. He never was. Even after all those years, he could only be alone with himself. Never with someone else. He had never counted less than seven of them when they came to enchain him and have him outside of the dark lair that kept him prisoner.
“Come on, Beast, it’s time for Ma’Duk’s devotions. If you really want to join his worship, you don’t want to miss them today. Chaoi, the Bonze, wanted to see you.”
He looked at the armour’s configuration, its weaknesses, the place on the throat where the artery beat, whose mad beat betrayed the tension of the homin who, behind his calm mask and his apparent solitude, knew that he was risking his life to lure him. He drooled over the thought of the satiny taste of the blood of the frightened Zoraï, at the dream of his fangs sunk into this tender, juicy, succulent flesh…
He handed his wrists.
“I’m to be chained.”
[OOC]Original version of the song written by Jim Steinman[/OOC]