French Vanilla
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Timid Dabbler
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- Posted: Sat, 29 May 2010 20:49:44 +0000
Syuura
- pffffffft NO ; A;
i shall try for a slot!
may i have another 500 word story involving amon and avis again? * u*
this time avis ditches his hot date because he found out that amon was sick at home. then he goes and nurses him to health. fluff ensues?
can it be in avis' pov? the tense is up to you!
offerin 70k! C:
I hope this is... somewhat... decent. OTL
showing panic in first person was... an interesting experiment.
- Anya is a very pretty girl; she is lovely, a cautious song of lavender smoke and mahogany curves and I appreciate it, oh I appreciate it. She is a bit shy in the beginning, yes, but this girl is more than pretty. She has a mind almost as quick and sly as mine; very few things get by her and I rather like that, being kept on my proverbial toes. Perhaps she will last longer than the others who had come before, with her quicksilver smile and eyes as grey and unreadable as the sky. In fact, she is quite reluctant to confirm anything - she touches my shoulder and brushes the hair out of my eyes like a friend, casually, with ease, without pause, like she is not even aware that I am Avis, the most spectacularly praised demon lord for centuries. "Look," she says, "Belladonna." And quite right she is, the familiar plant two feet away to the left of our bench. This is our courtship - we take walks in the gardens and try to outwit the other, pointing out various toxic fauna and listing their attributes. She wins this one, because I always miss the tiny black pearls of poison hanging heavy on those slender branches (what does it say about her that she never does?).
I think - what.
What was that. This sudden cr -
That! Again!
She is looking at me now, concern shining clearly in her eyes, clearer than anything else I have seen in them since we have met. "What is it?"
"You - you just seemed to - to crumple onto yourself. Are you alright?"
I cannot even remember what she is saying - there is this... this thump thump thump of my heart. Has it ever pounded against my chest so harshly, as if it will carve a tunnel out of my body? I don't even feel the wood of the bench splinter underneath my fingers - not until the skin of my palms split open on the splintered edges. I never get sick. My body is simply not wired to be vulnerable to disease, or so my father's voice tells me. Why does he have to haunt me even now, the b*****d. He was always telling Amon that when he should have been nursing his own - THUMP THUMP THUMP ! Oh, yes, yes, it makes perfect sense and now, I finally have a grip on it all. Only, no, no - how can he - we have been so careful and the in-residence medical staff told me just last week that he was fine and now I am rising, I am fleeing from the pile of timber on the ground, tearing out of confused and fragile hands.
"Where are you going, Avis?" Poor Anya, she has no idea what I am doing. How can she? I have no idea what I am doing, only that I have to be running, only that I am searching for the runes and the signs and the lines of power drawn into the earth from its birth as I go. "I am sorry, Anya. There has been a - an emergency," is all I can manage at this point, fingers tracing the concluding clause and the circle snaps shut. "I will make it up to you." She is gone, like that, wiped clean through a blinding veil of magic. By the time the nurses see me, I have already spoken the words that will disengage the built-in shields and crossed the room.
The lower demon seems startled, frightened almost, and that is how I know my eyes are blazing, blazing like a ice cold storm; I see my eyes reflected in his wide, trembling gaze - like twin chips of falling stars, they bore into him. "You will tell me what happened." There is no question about who or what I am referring to and the blathering idiot gladly talks as fast as his limited lungs will allow.
At least Avis is not injured. He is just... sick, they say; I'm not really sure what all the medical babble means, but the important parts I catch. A rare and uncommon illness, one that never should have brought down a demon with such a great line, but now I know why my Father is not here. He likes to pretend that none of this is happening, because to admit that one of his children, one born of his flesh and his blood, could be weak enough to fall sick would be like gouging out his eyes with a salt encrusted fork.
"Young master! You can't go in there, what if he infe-"
Well, now I know what to do when people start to go raving mad. You collapse their windpipe.
"A-Avis?"
"I'm here Amon."
He falls asleep eventually and I try not to stare too hard at the ashen skin and the unnatural cool touch of his hand. I try not to, but I do, because how could this have happened, how could this have happened to him, I don't know and if I have to overthrow all of the Underworld to fix this I will.
"Avis? How long are you going to sleep? My leg is going numb."
"I'll get you some cake later," I mumble into the sheets and the kneecap beneath them.
"...okay."
