| You Again |
[07 Apr 2008|02:17am] |
Hell was very busy.
Those who had betrayed, refusing to side with Lady Elfleda against her would-be successor, were being hastily purged. A great culling was in process and those of prior lowly status were being promoted by virtue of merit, to take the place of their former superiors. A little revolution, it seemed, was good for the damned. The strict imposition of order was Leviathan's creed and, with own dominion returned, Elfleda was seeing to it that her own proverbial territory would exemplify its loyalty to both her and the cause she represented.
It was not necessarily measured in terms of land, although certain places were gifted for her use. No, dominion was mastery. Control. Those decreed to be under Elfleda's personal guidance needed to do as she ordered or requested, depending on the situation. The Abyss' laws might not be for her to decide, but interpretation was another matter. The disloyal, the unfavorable, the unworthy and just plain lazy... All needed to be cleansed - and the lady in black had achieved much since Rhiannon Lee's absence. It had been an age since one of the Brides of Leviathan had enacted such a harvesting of blackened souls, but, nonetheless, it was servicing as both warning and a message to her reunited 'groom', that Elfleda was far from unable to enact a terrible price from those in debt. Elfleda was as much proving herself again, as she was dealing revenge.
It had been a while since she had summoned Darian to her midst. Elfleda levitated in meditative likeness, in the uppermost central chamber of a vast palace. One constructed from a fusion of ebony metal and the blackened bones of the damned. The very walls seemed to hum with a ghostly, demonic chorus; a low-frequency thrumming, embuing the venue with an aura of power, both within and without. No physical guards stood here, but the ever-writhing shadows could snatch an intruder with ease, enveloping with suffocation or tearing the victim apart with horrifically sacrificial purpose. The floor seemed fashioned of something not too unlike glass. Beneath it, crimson skeletons could be seen entombed like primordial insects trapped in amber.
The vast doors to that room creaked open and the empowered Corruptress raised head toward her guest.
"I trust your journey was absent of problems," the familiar woman in black intoned.
"Ah. But never without ceremony," he returned, a touch of the sardonic in Darian's voice and demeanor. After all, it wasn't every day that he, while in the process of shaving, was set upon by pincered minions and ushered through a portal that had appeared above his toilet. Once in Elfleda's realm, and what roughly counted as a receiving area, there was barely time to wipe away the evidence of white foam and nicked throat. As it was, he wore only a white shirt, dark trousers, and shoes, with no jacket to complete the demon's uniform.
Darian supposed he should be glad he didn't shave in a towel.
"All things considered, I'm glad to be back in the fold," he told her. "Your fold, that is. Then again, no one's tied me to anything yet." Should memory serve, the Corruptress had a hard-on for bondage.
The maker of deals passed through the room with indifference that spoke of his demonic nature. Human eyes might've been horrified by the sheer noise of the place, not to mention the skull collection underfoot. Empathy was an emotion he did not feel, so the tortured shouts of betrayers didn't illicit concern. He had not been a supporter of Atia's cause. Darian rebelled against Elfleda with much fanfare, now and then, just to assert his independence. But he would rather fly her colors than the deranged Roman's.
Especially considering she'd sent Bethany on a sapphic thrill ride. Not his favorite day.
[Thread: Open to Elfleda]
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