La Gnat
(?)Community Member
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- Posted: Fri, 18 Nov 2011 00:43:27 +0000
Protection—it had been a delusion. A simple chest pushed against a door was no grandeur moat for a beast that could simply vaporize into a room; her feeble attempts must have seemed pathetic to him, silly even.
Elizabeth’s eyes had been trained on a flake of snow that was dwindling between the winds and the outside glass when Laban entered. She hadn’t sensed him, not until he spoke at least. His words caused her to waver slightly; there had been an anticipation that she would never have to seem him again. Blinking away the lethargy, she turned back to the windowsill, resting her chin against a palm—she wasn’t going to answer him.
Then, the heat.
A slight sear spread against her neck as the attack begun, her body unsure what was happening. The sound of threads ripping crackled in her ears; internal alarms beginning to cry out.
This wasn’t appropriate. Her neck was bare, rapidly followed by the rest of her. Every touch dug at her skin, the fire increasing.
He was burning her. The stench of cooking flesh reached her nose as he finished, briskly turning to gather the shreds of his own doing. Elizabeth gasped between her sobs, letting her hands wander to the worst of the wounds.
To the north of her rounded hip, were Laban’s fingers, still imprinted in an engraved red from where he had caressed her last. Invisible flames licked at the welts that ran across the entirety of her frame.
As he instructed her towards her hair, she obeyed. It was tied back, a covering that could shield her for a moment. The band slipped noiselessly from her tresses and she brought them forward, letting the tangled strands run over her chest.
Undone and nude, Elizabeth held all the colors of autumn. A thicket of cinnamon gently rested within her abused thighs, twin droplets of gilded caramel prickled upwards by the cool of the morning centered on her breasts. She was the harvest, suddenly knocked down by the ravaging of a storm. Arms wrapped around her stomach as she knelt down, deepening into herself as she scooted away from Laban who was still busying himself with the crumbs of her clothes. He hadn’t turned back around to face her—she steadied her sobs, letting them fade into normal rhythm with her breaths.
The time for pity was over.
“I'll have your jacket now.”
( Shhhh, I snuck on! I'll be back tomorrow )
Elizabeth’s eyes had been trained on a flake of snow that was dwindling between the winds and the outside glass when Laban entered. She hadn’t sensed him, not until he spoke at least. His words caused her to waver slightly; there had been an anticipation that she would never have to seem him again. Blinking away the lethargy, she turned back to the windowsill, resting her chin against a palm—she wasn’t going to answer him.
Then, the heat.
A slight sear spread against her neck as the attack begun, her body unsure what was happening. The sound of threads ripping crackled in her ears; internal alarms beginning to cry out.
This wasn’t appropriate. Her neck was bare, rapidly followed by the rest of her. Every touch dug at her skin, the fire increasing.
He was burning her. The stench of cooking flesh reached her nose as he finished, briskly turning to gather the shreds of his own doing. Elizabeth gasped between her sobs, letting her hands wander to the worst of the wounds.
To the north of her rounded hip, were Laban’s fingers, still imprinted in an engraved red from where he had caressed her last. Invisible flames licked at the welts that ran across the entirety of her frame.
As he instructed her towards her hair, she obeyed. It was tied back, a covering that could shield her for a moment. The band slipped noiselessly from her tresses and she brought them forward, letting the tangled strands run over her chest.
Undone and nude, Elizabeth held all the colors of autumn. A thicket of cinnamon gently rested within her abused thighs, twin droplets of gilded caramel prickled upwards by the cool of the morning centered on her breasts. She was the harvest, suddenly knocked down by the ravaging of a storm. Arms wrapped around her stomach as she knelt down, deepening into herself as she scooted away from Laban who was still busying himself with the crumbs of her clothes. He hadn’t turned back around to face her—she steadied her sobs, letting them fade into normal rhythm with her breaths.
The time for pity was over.
“I'll have your jacket now.”
( Shhhh, I snuck on! I'll be back tomorrow )