45th of Fall, 511AV
Zlakalia found herself in a dark room. Dark and bleak and rotting away, the wood planks of the floor splintered and creaked upward from her weight. The light that streamed in from broken windows was faded and weak from tattered cloth that covered the panes. The air smelled of something foul but nondescript. it was a faint stench, however, easily ignored. She looked around and the room seemed to stretch before her.
As Zlakalia stared at the impressive room is was though beams of light flickered fort from the ceiling, tables evenly spaced all down the hall. And on each of the table were rows and rows of people, tied upon the wooden tables and struggling to free themselves of their bonds.Their mouths were covered and they were moaning, muffled voices raising up but falling. It became nothing but background noise to the strange room.
Zlakalia held up her knife, finding it in her hand. It glimmered and seemed to lose its shape, and Kali found herself staring at the shifting metal. It gave no reflection but her shadow, a black figure staring back at her from the blade's silvery surface. And the figure was smiling. Zlakalia watched the blade a while longer, the knife stretching to become nearly a mirror. Her own form was beautiful, even with the lack of her normal color. The other Zlakalia pointed, long black fingers stretching out. Kali looked to where it was begging her to go, towards the bodies all around. It wanted her to get started.
Zlakalia walked forward, pausing at each bed of wood and rope to look at the sweat-covered bodies of the fighting prisoners. At the first bed she noticed the glimmer of copper popping out of the wooden frame. A circular bit of orange, engraved with words. Named labels fell from each bed as she passed by, giving a quick explanation. Zealot. Hypocrite. Bleeder. Experiment. As Zlakalia read each label the label would shift and change, the letters swapping out randomly until the label itself vanished. Leaving nothing behind but the person it tagged.
Zlakalia stopped before the foot of a long table that gave a word that excited her. Mage. The knife was shaking now, it was also excited and the prospect of what lay before her. She climbed up the wood, the grains stretching apart like stairs as she moved up. She couldn't wait, her hand and legs moved ever quicker to reach the tabletop so far above. When she finally arrived, Kali peered at the bulbous body which lay before her, a sickening and fat human who was just WAITING for her knife. She would grant it to him.
The man was wearing red robes, hoisted up to his knees from the thick ropes around his ankles and wrists. His mouth was also covered with a cloth muzzle, though he was only making low groans whenever he breathed out. Zlakalia took some tender steps onto the fleshy man, walking up his leg. Her blade rested, scratching the surface of his skin as she walked. Up the knee, she stepped onto the robe, walking ever higher. The man struggled and strained beneath her, trying to free his hands desperately. Zlakalia loved it. His eyes were wide, glancing down towards Kali, but she was just out of sight. For now.
As Zlakalia reached the man's stomach, he was making much more panicked noises, trying to scream or beg or some other silly action below the choking binds. But Kali stopped, and she glanced around the room. Something was... off. Was someone watching her? |
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by Zlakalia on September 25th, 2011, 7:12 pm 