Closed to he who dances in the shadows...
Rated 18A
A'rai Dienn Salaturn stared at the burgundy liquid inside of her wine glass, and wondered if blood would ever taste as sweet. It would certainly not give her the heady rush and exhilaration, the tingle and the utter abandon that wine left her feeling after a bottle or two. But perhaps it would give her something more, something far better than the intoxication of alcohol.
Swirling the contents within her crystal glass, A'rai watched the liquid collect on the sides and stream down like little red rivers. Bringing it to her lips, she drained the contents and set her glass upon the immaculate, white table cloth. Immediately, a servant detached herself from the wall and poured more of the enticing liquid from a decanter that sparkled in the flickering light of so many candles. She watched impassively as it flowed into her glass, then looked down at her so far untouched meal. The servant scurried back to her hole, right next to the china hutch and as far from sight as she could possibly get.
Staring down at her plate, she found herself without appetite. Still, she dutifully picked up fork and knife and cut a few steaming morsels of meat from the piece of venison before her. Placing the pieces in her mouth, she chewed and swallowed mechanically, like those little trinkets her father brought home from Alerar.
She'd rather just drink the wine and screw the meal.
Across the table, spread out with their best china and glasses and sitting before a roaring fire, sat her father; recently back from some opportunity in Raiaera. And by recently, she meant he'd been home a fortnight already and it was a fortnight too long for her. He could leave and never return and she'd be the happiest woman on Althanas; as long as he left his entire fortune to her of course.
Ever the wise nobleman, her father had invested in many enterprises over the years, and most of them had paid him quite handsomely. Right now he found himself torn between investing in Raiaera's regrowth, or Alerar's war machines.
Knowing him, he'd probably do both.
Folding his copy of the Salvar Newsprint and placing it upon the table, her father spied her staring down at him. With harder features than her own and blonde hair going grey at the temples, he may have been considered handsome at some point. But the years had left lines upon his face and his bright blue eyes had dulled a bit. Indeed, it appeared he looked slightly older to her than he had those eight months ago before he left.
"A'rai, my dear," he smiled, his deep voice filling the empty space between them, "I have something I need to talk to you about."
Inwardly she sighed, wishing not even to waste her breath upon him. Outwardly, A'rai smiled, her bright green eyes dancing in fake merriment as she placed her fork and knife upon the table and dabbed at the corners of her full, red lips with her napkin.
"Of course, father," she said, her voice so high and girlie it practically made her sick, "whatever is bothering you?"
With a careful eye, she watched as he picked up his glass and drank, fortifying himself. The seductress knew this to be a conversation she would rather avoid, and judging by his reluctance to speak, she could hazard a rather accurate guess at what topic he was about to broach.
"I do believe it is about time you married." He finally said in one great whoosh of breath. When she opened her mouth to retort, he held up a hand to silence her and continued. "I have been very lenient. I know you have wanted your freedom and you've been waiting to fall in love with one of your suitors, but how ever shall you fall for one when you spend no time with them?"
She watched him pause and draw breath, steadying his nerves and arranging his thoughts. Her father never did like imposing upon her and she fed off that viciously, but it seemed this time he would not be so easily persuaded.
"You have had many fine suitors come to call and I do not wish to force you to choose one, or choose for you, but it has been long enough." He could barely meet her eyes as he netted out his orders, the coward.
Picking up her wine glass, A'rai sipped at the contents before setting it next to her plate. Her eyes wandering over the patterns of leaves and vines that danced along the rim in gilded gold, before rising and meeting those of her father's; watching her intently.
"I know I have taken a very long time, father," A'rai began, her voice soft, with just a note of pleading in it, "I have been overly picky of the men you have sent to me, perhaps, and thus have waited too long," for you to die of natural causes she thought, "and tried your patience."
He nodded his assent, but interrupted her before she could continue. "I have been very patient with you, but I'm laying down the law now, A'rai. You have until the end of the year."
Her eyes narrowed as her mask of civility broke for a split second, then fell back into place. "But father--"
"No buts!" He said, his voice rising as his hand slashed through the air. Apparently she really had tried his patience. Seeing the colour rise in his cheeks, A'rai knew she would get no further with him. "You have waited long enough."
Oh, how she couldn't agree more. She had waited far too long for nature to run it's course. Time to take matters into her own hands.
Two weeks later, A'rai stood in her mother's old bedroom; now converted into her private sanctuary. All of her mother's furniture and belongings had long ago been removed and dumped in the trashed. She had no sentimental attachment to them, in fact she had no attachment to much of anything in this world; asides from herself.
Instead of a room filled with comforts, the seductress had turned this place into her study and laboratory. Bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, but many of them were empty, their shelves filled with nothing but dust and cobwebs. Still, she had managed to fill two of them completely with a small library of books on the occult and the different regions of Althanas. Several of the items therein were demon summoning tomes, her pride and joy, and how she had amassed the small amount of power she currently had.
The only sign of comfort within the large space were a desk and chair and a large, plush, wing back chair that she used for reading. These were both pushed back against the wall to create room. No fire burned within the large stone hearth and the cool Salvarian night wind was seeping in through the windows, even though heavy drapes covered them. Candles lay strewn throughout the entire room, creating a soft, yellow light that chased the shadows to the very corners. No carpets covered the floor to keep the chill from the feet, in fact, they had been rolled up and moved aside to make room for what lay in the centre.
A large circle lay painted in chalk upon the dark hard wood floor. A circle within a circle, with a hundred symbols and lines that crossed over one another in an intricate dance and pattern that left the eye wandering into confusion. An ancient language she knew not the meaning of was drawn between the two circles, lines of text she couldn't care less about and only knew they were pertinent to the success of summoning the demon and the protection of the summoner.
In the end, it had taken her three days to draw it, but she had loved every minute spent thinking about how the demon would torture and kill her father in whatever manner she directed it.
Feeling that same grin begin to spread across her face, A'rai pulled an ornate dagger from between her ample chest. Unsheathing the weapon, she ran it across her palm. Pain lanced across her hand and she couldn't help but shiver with the pleasure of it. Blood welled and dripped across her porcelain skin. Holding her hand over the circle, she watched it drip down onto the lines and began the call.
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