SevenfoldA Story by Langue d'Argent
Inspired by "Seven Devils" by Florence + the Machine. More of the music than the words.
She sits quietly, lying perfectly frozen on a blood red divan. Her black hair tumbles around her bare shoulders, falls to the seat of her lounge. Her pale skin seems to glow as she watches him. She wears nothing but an ebony lace slip, and she might as well have left it off. But none of these captures his attention except the fierce blaze in her crimson eyes, the evil challenge in that look.
He stands in the doorway, meeting her bright gaze with a dark one of his own. He sees her, only her. He takes a step forward.
The ground crumbles beside his feet. There is nowhere for him to walk but a strip of stone barely half a foot wide. But he notices none of this. He continues to put one foot in front of the other, refusing to let anything stand between him and the prize he had given everything to receive.
Her perfectly sculpted lips, stained a deep and entrancing maroon, curve into a poisonous sneer. Her teeth are not human, but neither is she. Her canine are far sharper than any he's ever seen, and as he watches, they grow until they prick her bottom lip. Two tiny beads of blood arise, the viscous liquid sparking in a sinister light of burning fires.
He is finally standing before her. He kneels, his eyes locked on hers, and he feels nothing but the roar of some base need in his body. He quivers with it, but he cannot move. She will not let him. He sees then the sheer malice in her bloody eyes, the purely beautiful hate that causes the glitter in her gaze. And he knows then that his journey was not for her, but for the idea of her. But it is too late to turn back.
She uncurls from her divan, standing before him. Her raven hair falls like a river of hot tar around her, around him. They are shrouded in her darkness, her veil of evil. She leans down to him, and her eyes begin to glow, to burn. But he feels no fear. He has given everything, and he will receive his due.
She presses her venomous lips to his brow in a kiss of fate and a fire ignites within him. He is blazing, uncontrolled. And he can move his fingers, his hands, now. He lifts them to her face, pulling her down. As his lips meet hers in a fiery passion, their eyes are open, their gazes locked, ember and night. He feels the piercing pain of her teeth on his mouth, the strange rasp of her tongue on his lips. Nothing matters anymore but that he serve her, he become solely hers.
His hands slide from her pale face to her thin neck as her kisses blaze from his mouth to his throat.
His fingers tighten with the strength of lust.
Her fangs pierce with the ease of wrath.
He smiles with the oblivion of gluttony.
She laughs with the rapture of pride.
His heart races with the fire of envy.
Her teeth drink with the drive of greed.
They are taken with themselves, stolen in their actions. She cannot breathe. He has lost his blood. But they are paired for eternity, and they will live on, never ceasing in their dance of the damned. Seven times seventy years they will remain, slowly ending each other only to begin again. Six devils, trapped within, cursing each other in the ritual of this bondage as the seventh watches over all, doing nothing but turning the hourglass, repeating the eons of this evil.
© 2012 Langue d'Argent
Near San Bernadino, CA
AboutLangue d'Argent is a nom de plume. Female. June 3rd. Blonde. SoCal. Fantasy. Potterhead. Slytherin. Oncer. Dearie. Ringer. Strider. Hiddlestoner. Gamer. Student. Cats. Pasta. Green. Loki. Me. more..