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[23 Dec 2007|08:06pm] |
Squiggly squiggly squiggly!
Pharazon rolled off of her, a look of contempt and disgust on his face. Miriel lay, and stared at the ceiling, before sitting up and casting an emotionless look in his direction. He scowled, "Why must you lay there like a fish, on ice?"
"Because, in your words, I am frigid." The tone of her voice changed, and she said, snidely, "But I am only frigid, for you cannot satisfy me."
He laughed, shortly, "Perhaps I do not satisfy you, Zimramphel, because you would rather fancy your Ladies?"
"You wish,so that you might watch and touch yourself! I know what it is you do, with the southron slaves, your whores, and the Nobles' wives." She snorted, derisively, "Though one can hardly tell the difference between a whore and many of those wives."
He sneered at her, and stood, pulling on a robe lined with golden thread, "One day, you will give me an heir, and then, if you are lucky, I will not sell you to the southrons for their peverse sexual appetites."
Her eyes flashed, "Are you not the one with the perverse appetites, Calion? The Southrons have long memories, and there will be a time when we are long dead, and they will still remember that Numenore enslaved them."
He backhands her, his voice shrill in his anger, "MY NAME IS PHARAZON! And I shall be immortal, and all the world will be my Kingdom, and all her peoples slaves."
She hit the ground, and lay there half kneeling for a long moment, before she stood, and wiped a trickle of blood from her lip. The topic of slavery always disgusted her, as much as Pharazon often did, "Long memories, Pharazon. They've long memories. And if you are to be immortal, you've no need for an heir."
Pulling on her own robe, she walked towards her bathing chambers, intending on scrubbing him off of her. Before she was gone, she added, "Even so, you've likely plenty of children running around, as it is."
She was suddenly shoved face first against the door, the cold steel of a knife pressed against her throat. His voice was harsh in her ear, "You will give me an heir. I know you drink those teas, and I will kill any who supply you with them. I care not if you are a fish!"
"You get your jollies from others, regardless," Miriel said, steadily. Sometimes, she wished he would just slit her throat and be done with it. She knew what was coming next, and dropped her robe to the floor, saying, "Let us get on with it, then, if you are ready."
Squiggly squiggly squiggly!
Miriel abrubtly cut off, her eyes steely and her the masque on her face threatening to crack. Her voice had wavered, near the end, "It is not so much that I am frigid, as I've never had anyone to be warm with."
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