06-16-2009, 11:34 PM
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500+
Her body felt dirty, violated. Not a single wound upon her body had been made by the crow wolf, and that was what troubled the warrior. He had only used her weakness against her, and now her body was bruised because of it. Corvus had branded the place where once Onus had kissed her. On her inner left thigh, the hanja for “Darkness” had been burned into her skin, and the wound was still red and bleeding, angry and festering. He had raped her, first to show her that she was his. Then he had raped her to spread his seed within in her, and continued to do so. Her body had betrayed her mind, delighting in the climatic pleasures of the flesh. Even her voice had called out. And Onus had seen it.... If only she had been safely dead at the jaws of Brennt.
The woman could feel his sadness and his guilt, and it spread within her like water that could not be contained. She wanted to reach out to him, to touch his face. She wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he had not failed her. What had happened had already been written—but she knew that he did not believe in Fate as she did. She was alive, and he had saved her from a far graver fate. She would have suffered the same fate as her mother, trapped in a single space, the freedom of her soul destroyed so that she could live only to raise a child. And then Death would have come to relieve her shattered soul that had yearned for freedom. But that was no longer her Fate. Onus had lifted her from that shadowed path. Whatever lay before her now must be better.... She wanted to tell him that, but silence closed her throat and weariness weighed her down. Her hand twitched, but he had already turned away to retrieve something from the kitchen. The woman sighed in resignation and in defeat, closing her eyes once more against the bright world. She wanted to rest, to close her eyes and allow her body to heal. But her eyes kept opening because the sight of her lover was a gift that had been given amidst the darkness.
She drank the water that he brought to her, her white eyes opened slightly as if to see. Her teeth clinked against the bowl as her tongue received the purging liquid. She felt cleaned, as if there had been something repulsive in her mouth, but she could not remember if there had been. Whatever it was, it was washed away, and her parched mouth was quenched. And just enough was taken before Onus set the dish aside. She was still as she lay upon that bed. She breathed quietly, but there was no strength left within her. He warned her about the pain, and she responded in silence, unable to find the will to speak. Her eyes moved, watching him faintly through those half-lidded eyes. The sharp, stinging pain shocked her dulled consciousness, but there was only a sharp intake of breath. Her body did not recoil because it could not. Her eyes closed, though not against the pain, for surely this was nothing compared to what her body had felt. With her eyes closed, another tear fell before she could hold them back, and she used the pain of the alchohol upon her wounds as an excuse.
500+
Her body felt dirty, violated. Not a single wound upon her body had been made by the crow wolf, and that was what troubled the warrior. He had only used her weakness against her, and now her body was bruised because of it. Corvus had branded the place where once Onus had kissed her. On her inner left thigh, the hanja for “Darkness” had been burned into her skin, and the wound was still red and bleeding, angry and festering. He had raped her, first to show her that she was his. Then he had raped her to spread his seed within in her, and continued to do so. Her body had betrayed her mind, delighting in the climatic pleasures of the flesh. Even her voice had called out. And Onus had seen it.... If only she had been safely dead at the jaws of Brennt.
The woman could feel his sadness and his guilt, and it spread within her like water that could not be contained. She wanted to reach out to him, to touch his face. She wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he had not failed her. What had happened had already been written—but she knew that he did not believe in Fate as she did. She was alive, and he had saved her from a far graver fate. She would have suffered the same fate as her mother, trapped in a single space, the freedom of her soul destroyed so that she could live only to raise a child. And then Death would have come to relieve her shattered soul that had yearned for freedom. But that was no longer her Fate. Onus had lifted her from that shadowed path. Whatever lay before her now must be better.... She wanted to tell him that, but silence closed her throat and weariness weighed her down. Her hand twitched, but he had already turned away to retrieve something from the kitchen. The woman sighed in resignation and in defeat, closing her eyes once more against the bright world. She wanted to rest, to close her eyes and allow her body to heal. But her eyes kept opening because the sight of her lover was a gift that had been given amidst the darkness.
She drank the water that he brought to her, her white eyes opened slightly as if to see. Her teeth clinked against the bowl as her tongue received the purging liquid. She felt cleaned, as if there had been something repulsive in her mouth, but she could not remember if there had been. Whatever it was, it was washed away, and her parched mouth was quenched. And just enough was taken before Onus set the dish aside. She was still as she lay upon that bed. She breathed quietly, but there was no strength left within her. He warned her about the pain, and she responded in silence, unable to find the will to speak. Her eyes moved, watching him faintly through those half-lidded eyes. The sharp, stinging pain shocked her dulled consciousness, but there was only a sharp intake of breath. Her body did not recoil because it could not. Her eyes closed, though not against the pain, for surely this was nothing compared to what her body had felt. With her eyes closed, another tear fell before she could hold them back, and she used the pain of the alchohol upon her wounds as an excuse.