"There is a stake in your chest, penetrating your heart," he murmured out lightly, but with it came the commanding presence and domination as well. She would have difficulty resisting it due to being his childe, and even much more due to the fact that she was blood bound to him strongly. And with that thought put into her mind, she would truly believe that there was a stake driven through her heart, as would every part of her body. She would not be able to move, but she would know what was going on.
He explained to her the basic ideals of Christmas, or at least the commercial aspect of it. He left out any mention of the religion it was based around, and centered on the giving of gifts. Then he mentioned of why the gifts were given. After he spoke he also realized his slip of words, and she'd clearly note the look of suffering that came over his face. It was nearly as if he was pained to admit any such emotion, or even to feel it.
Then he noted the absolute fear that radiated off her face into the air between them, and then into the pores of his body as he absorbed the waves of fear she was giving off. Though she struggled and she wanted this to be over, her best bet would have been to wear him out by some means. Yet she only served to refuel him with her fear and panic, two of the emotions he enjoyed best to feed on.
Before her eyes, as proof to one of the new powers he told her she would be getting, she would see the tired look fade away, as well as the slightly aged look he had from expending so much energy. Right before her eyes, as wide and wild as they were from her fright, she would see him reverting back to his rather beautiful self, his face seeming to be chiseled from the most expensive marble by the hands of a skilled god. Seeing that might even make her eager to be able to feed in such a way, but that was a small hope of his. He knew she would struggle until the end.
And struggle, scream, bite, and argue she did, as she always did. Which was why he decided to spare her mind of knowing of the pain that she would feel, the pain that would change her body, the pain that would grant her rebirth with the demon becoming a part of her, absorbed into her own soul. This was the point of which he had decided to put her into a coma-like state, of which she would not awaken from at all until he told her to do so, or if he was killed.
He waited for her to fall into the state of sleep that he put her into completely, then he reached and unbound her hands, freeing her lay there limply. The struggling was over, now. He spread her out, arranging her carefully onto the altar as he thought would be best. She was arranged so that her arms were outright from her body, as well with her legs spread as wide as they could, her head tilted back some.
Slipping from her body, he withdrew two things from on his person. The first was the soul gem, and the second being his most prized knife, the edge able to slice through skin with surprising ease. Now it was time for the true work to begin.
He stood by the side of the altar now in his soiled clothes, himself being covered in as much blood as had been splattered around the room. He held out his hand containing the soulgem, positioning it over his darkling's now-still heart, and removed his hand. There it wavered, and there it rotated slightly in the air, waiting for what it would have to do next.
He moved next to the altar by where her left hand was splayed palm up, and looked out over her body. He closed his eyes to the sight of her spread body before him, focusing his mind. She was wearing her red leathers, an outfit she had taken a painstaking amount of time to sew together, and he did not want to ruin her clothing. Therefore, with his mind now focused aptly, he willed the clothes off of her body, to the side. He did not want to disturb her peaceful looking face, or her body, as she was arranged perfectly currently. And so her clothing disappeared from her body, appearing on a hook on the wall, and he brought the knife forward and readied his hand.
First, he pressed the edge of the knife at the tip of her middle finger, butting it up some against the nail. He slowly sliced easily into her skin, and dragged the tip lightly enough to cut the skin apart along the palm-side of her finger. From the bottom of her finger, he moved across her palm in a straight line, then to her wrist, and further down to her elbow, cleaving the skin in twain. The cut was then brought from her elbow to her shoulder, then across her chest, above her breast, and down her cleavage to above her heart. Moving quickly, he cut an identical line in her skin starting from her right hand's middle finger, meeting the other cut on her chest, above her heart.
Then came his work at the other end of the altar, beginning this time at the tip of her left right middle toe, upwards along the top of her foot, to her knee, and then up her leg, following the soft flesh of her thigh. Once he reached her pelvis and waist, in the center he brought the line upwards, across the exact middle of her stomach, to meet where the other two lines left off. This was repeated, of course, for her left foot, dissecting her layers of skin into four parts. But then came the final cut. At her forehead, where her hair met the bald skin, in the middle he placed the knife's tip in deep, cutting downwards, along the tip of her nose and through the cartilage there. He continued downwards with the knife, flaying her lips in two, as well as her chin and throat, as he brought this final cut down to meet the other four. With the actual cutting work done now, he licked the knife clean of blood and placed it back within its sheath as he climbed easily up onto the altar.
He looked down upon the form of the unconscious drow, the drow he had admitted he cared for, and the drow of whom he had given so much. His mouth opened, his eyes closed, and he issued out words in a long since dead language that many would feel unclean at even hearing. As the words echoed around the room, dimming the few lights that there were, the slight blood that welled out of her skin in the cuts started to bubble lightly, as if her blood were boiling.
The blood then worked to force her skin back, peeling it away from the muscles beneath, opening up her body to him in this horrific way as he commanded her very skin and blood. Beneath her skin, though, where he should have indeed seen her muscles and bones, he saw instead a much more beautiful sight. Lying there, as if it was encased within her fleshy shell, was her soul, bare for him to see. It was asleep the same as her body was, unaware of what was happening. He watched the blue and ethereal mist-like substance that was her soul as he tilted his head to the side, bringing both of his hands to grasp the soulgem that was hovering about head level with him standing on the altar itself.
The next words in that unholy language brought about an effect in the soulgem itself, as opposed to the prone darkling's body. As Regan chanted on and on, the soulgem and the demon that it held, seemed to melt within his hands, as if it were molten glass or crystal. It ran between his fingers, funneling down between them to slowly lower further and further down to her soul.
Regan watched it, tilting his head as he thought the melting soulgem was not unlike spittle that kids would often drop down from a high height with their lips, only to see if they could pull it back up into their waiting mouths before the strands of phlegm broke. This would not be recalled to his hands though. Moments later, after he watched in fascination what he could not witness when his own demon was bound to him, the soulgem with the demon it held melted down, coming in contact with her waiting soul.
As the bound demon, and the binding substance of the soulgem spread out over Chelta's essence, sinking down into it as if her soul were water, his next chant brought the soulgem into action. The soulgem now worked to bind, with his power pouring out into it, the demon into her own soul, working to make her soul accept the new unholy form, to absorb Kie'ki-ree fully into her own being. With a flash of light, fiery red with tinges of an unholy green, the binding was complete. The soulgem's last job was completed as his darkling's flayed skin was grasped by the substance of the melted gem, bringing it back together to cover her soul which contained all the power of a demon. With a final flicker of infernal powers, the skin sealed itself with the help of her vampiric powers and the power of the soulgem, and all was complete. She was a new Chelta.
"You may awaken, darkling," he murmured out as he slid off of the altar, moving to loom his face over her's some, waiting, watching to see her when she awoke. As soon as she did, she'd feel the demon's power as being her own, and a fountain of knowledge pouring into her mind.
::December 22, 2002 10:10 AM
.........................................................................
