Snippet #1641642

Lucero, Deceiver, Demyan, Single
Walden's Tavern and Inn, Bellanuva

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"Of course, my dear. Anything you want."

What woman wouldn't want to hear that voice, smooth is velvet, whispering those words in her ear? Wrapped in warm arms, swaddled in fine satin sheets it makes the bitterness of sin so sweet. Use the word love and it's justification for anything. Forsaking your vows, abandoning your family, leaving your little ones crying in their beds longing for the gentle voice of their mother to lull them into sweet dreams. That's what's so pathetic about humans. They never know what they really want and always want what they can't, or shouldn't, have. They want goodness, safety, kindness and nobility but they crave satisfaction, cruelty, debauchery, humiliation. Lucero is just the one to give it to them... for a price.

"We'll be gone in the morn. I'll give whatever your heart desires. I'll clothe you in silks, cover you in jewels, my little doll. I'll..."

Blah, blah, blah, ect, ect. The fact is, he's bored. He thought this would be a rousing chase. She had seems so good natured and honest. A wife and mother. Cross carrying, say your prayers at morning, noon and night, dyed in the wool church goer. But it all fell into place too easily. From fashioning a look that caught her eye, the classic blond nobility type, to getting her alone to getting her in bed. After the first lay, it wasn't a challenge at all. It's his own fault really. He's just too good at this. Maybe he should tone down his skills a little. Would that help? Is he too handsome, too courtly, too princely?

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" There's a murmur of acquiescence from, what's her name again? Amanda... Amantha... "Ammie, dearest."

It was Am-something or other because he didn't get an objection from calling her that. He really ought to finish this now. She's already damned herself ten times over but he's an indulger, of himself of course and a soul is a soul. That's the problem with gathering souls. The truly pure of heart don't just hand you their souls. You always have to tarnish and corrupt a human soul before they're ready to give it up. The one thing of any value these idiots truly possess and they'll give up for the simplest of pleasures. Just think what he could do with an untarnished soul. Just the thought of the power it would give him makes him clutch his bed partner tighter bringing a delight chirp from her lips. But alas, his skills are not up to that sort of challenge. Only the truly great are skilled enough to get the pure of heart to relinquish their soul willingly. Perhaps not today, perhaps not soon but a Demyan can dream, can't he?

In the meantime, back to business and despite the ease of it all, he does love what he does. What's that they say? Love what you do and you'll never work a day in your life. When he isn't running the gambit of Demyan society, he does love his work. Some are born for violence, for tearing bodies limb from limb and glorying in the drinking of blood. He can respect that. It's just not his lot in this life. He was born to manipulate and deceive and thanks be to Azazel that there is sin and evil enough in the world for him to work his own small wonders.

"You will be mine, won't you? Mine, body and soul?"

There's actually dramatic pause. It's great when they do that! Then a sweetly whispered "Yes...". So sweetly in fact if his heart wasn't ice, he wouldn't sit up and reach for the pillow upon which his head was just resting. He wouldn't use it to smother her screams as his other hand reaches into her chest. Not so much into her chest as through it. Lucero roots around within her being none too kindly or gently. She doesn't deserve gentle. Shredding, clawing and tearing that shining orb from within her as she struggles and sobs and screams out of the pain into the muffling feathers of the pillow.

He leaves the lifeless body in the room. Some cleaning person or other will find it eventually. There's not a mark on it. He's not the garish type. Not that he wouldn't rip a body to pieces to get a soul if he had to but then, his nice clothes would be ruined. No one will be able to find the handsome, blond man she came in with. He always looks completely different. Anyone looking at him will see a kindly old woman making her way home for the night. Now that's done, time to find more prey. In Bellanuva, there's always more prey to be had.