[Flashback] Dancing on a Red String (Devmond)

[Dra-Nivias]

She clenched and unclenched her hands a few times. She could hurt him so easily right now, him being so close. So easily. She barely listened to his words, she didn't care what he was saying as so much as why. It was confusing and annoying. Dra-Nivias could tell he was interested in her hands.

I should've closed my hands more subtly, he wouldn't have noticed.

She tried to think of a way to make him go away. She couldn't think of how, she was very inexperienced in situations like this. And she didn't usually talk to people she didn't like, but she didn't know this one. She doubted he was friendly. But neither was she, so it didn't matter. There were some chances you had to take.

When he put his arm around her shoulders, she felt an even stronger urge to hurt him. But she ignored it; perhaps this person wanted to be her friend. Nivias doubted it, she really doubted it, but there was always a chance. She was very uncomfortable like this, but she didn't make a move to remove his arm.

"I can tell you're interested in my hands," She said, holding up her hands palm up. "I play with fire. Lovely fire. The burns hurt, but I like it. I like the burns." She held up her hands closer to his face.

As soon as she spoke, she regretted it. He could go out and tell everyone her secret.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

She quickly lowered her hands and curled them together once again. Why she was so trusting of this person was a mystery to even her.

[Devmond Incarnata]

Devmond shied away out of reach from the small hands that were thrown in his face. It took a moment of hard blinking to realize that she was not trying to hit him. The palms shown had stopped inches from his eyes, displaying the thick scars that were shaped in blistered bulbs. A burning confidence had shown in her eyes. Just as quickly, they were snuffed out, her hands returning to shiver in her lap.

I play with fire. Lovely fire.

He wanted to hate her. It should have been easy now that he realized that these scars were self-inflicted. Any bridge of fellow experience was only falsely constructed. Nothing to compare in symmetry, the very fuel of any bias. Yet, in her flurried movements and strange words, there was something that bred differently in his chest. Not yet pity, but close in relation.

Dancing in the dark. She was like the wounded lark he had tried to bring down into the deep caves as a small child. It had died after only a few days of nursing. His father had scolded him, smelling the reek from under his bed. All creatures survive on only what they were bred for, do not pity that which fails its own blood, his father had taught. In punishment, Devmond had been forced to eat the rotted bird. That bitter taste never leaving his tongue, he had obeyed that advice so far to close his heart against any weakness.

This was not weakness, however. She was simply ill-fit for her environment, a creature whose blood was mixed by the sun’s heat of the surface. Devmond felt himself grin a little as he stared, hoping that perhaps she now could feel his own piercings into the soul. He had not yet figured out all about this strange person, but finding a little more depth to explore certainly gave him a better reason to stay.

“You should not be so ashamed to hide them from me. I myself have held the marks from its hot kiss. The light of the surface is a cruel thing, but they have long faded from that blunder of childhood.” he said. “The fire I taste with true enjoyment is the burn of whiskey. You are old enough to drink, aren’t you?”

[Dra-Nivias]

She stared at him, with no emotion in her eyes once again. Then she shrugged. Drinking made you do stupid things, it made you confused, and it pretty much blocked your memory from retrieving anything of what you did when you were drunk. So of course, Nivias didn't drink. She liked to keep her head, thank you very much.

"I probably am old enough, but I wouldn't know. I never would want to drink, anyways. It makes you stupid, when you drink. But I think you know that. And I like to know what I'm doing."

She opened her hands and looked at them again. Blistered, scarred. It was a surprise she could do everything that she did. But her mind returned to imagining him burning. She couldn't help it; she didn't entirely like this person even though she was for some reason answering his questions. She cursed herself for talking; she should've held her tongue. But she was confused at why he was talking to her in the first place, anyways. That question hung in the back of her mind, silently debating whether to make her mouth ask it.

Petch you, brain. Stop making me talk. Use whatever common sense you have to make him leave.

This sparked a torrent of other thoughts, mostly Nivias arguing with herself, but a few random thoughts of he anklet and her imaginings of the world outside of Kalinor. She felt that she should spare herself from arguing with herself, and she didn't feel like imaging what the rest of the world looked like, so she just stopped thinking and focused on her surroundings. His arm was still resting on her shoulders, she was still sitting on the cold ground, he was still sitting uncomfortably close. Nothing new for the past few minutes.

Then she heard footsteps, the unmistakable sound of footsteps. Before she coud turn around to see who it was, she heard a somewhat familiar voice.

"What...are...you...DOING!?"

[Devmond Incarnata]

[PG-13 Warning]

Janais had called after his bare backside that ducked into a pair of pants, taken hastily from the white haired man’s belongings, and shimmied up the walls and out the door. She yawned and stretched on all fours like a waking house cat. Mid-afternoon chimed on the wall clock, an expensive gift from her recently ‘exed’ fiance. She always thought about the way he’d dote so carefully as it chimed. If only he had not been so jealous of every boy she’d ever spoken to. After all, monogamy was a very old-fashioned tradition, had he really expected her to commit to only his bed?

She sprung out of bed quicker then a teenage boy’s morning glory, dancing a little to the musical number the clock played at every announcement. Janais had to give her ego a rewarding pat for keeping down her drink so well last night, but then again her web was, after all, one of the main suppliers of alcohol to Kalinor. They had been slipping wine into her drinks about the same time she’d been suckered off the nip. Giving an added beat with her snapping fingers, she warmed her legs by sorting through the random belongings on the floor. She lightly stepped over Devmond’s forgotten jacket, and turned to kick it high above her head.

“Oh, Devmond you forgot your jacket.”

Grabbing both ends of the sleeves, she curtsied politely and swayed it side to side as she twirled around it. It was a shame he had left so early, Janais was looking forward to continuing from where he had caressed her breastbone, and fell asleep exhausted between the valley. He was well-carved and eager to please, but what made that night special was in his kiss. Hot and passionate with that perfect amount of pressure of wetness. She grinned and lifted the jacket above her head, dipping under it in a half-spin.

A muffled thud hit the floor and Janais felt her heel graze something cold. She squeaked, and hopped away on one leg. A large chain necklace with a metal lock was lying twisted in pile. Laughing at herself, she picked it off the grass-patterned fabric and played with it in her hand. A purple flower made of amethyst flashed. This was Devmond’s dead brother’s last gift to him. The night before, as she had been helping him undress, Devmond had been only careful in removing that piece of accessory, taking the time to fold it into his front jacket pocket. He was completely trashed at this point, and it was taking more than three minutes with sloppy fingers. Janais had moaned in impatience, finally forcing him out of the leather outerwear.

"I can't wait any longer like this, its not important."

"Sh'not important? Kill someone for this, like someone killed Vilerash' for it."

The moment had passed to be buried under many more memorable things, but Janais now felt as sick as her first taste of whiskey, not that she remembered it.

---

“What are you doing?”

Devmond tightened his grip around Nivias’ shoulder. He wanted to defy his imagination and turn to see someone besides whose name triggered at that nasally pitch. Instead, his gaze was unbroken from the half-blood’s face. They both locked in each other’s gaze. Perhaps sympathizing in this strange turn of the god Lhex, he found it somewhat comforting that Nivias was just as surprised. Neither turned yet to face Janais whose tremulous voice could only suggest an unpleasant sight.

“Well, I have currently made a new acquaintance it seems.” he said, not taking his eyes off said person in question. “She was just explaining her love of firemaking, its quite an interesting hobby. Oh, would you like to see her scars?”

“I came here to return your damn jacket.” He heard the soft, ruffling of the article being thrown to rest a foot or so behind him. “Also, I’d like to tell you that I hope you die from every sexually transmitted disease ever made to punish whores like you.”

“Well, wonderful talking to you-”

“How would anyone ever figure I'd guess you'd be here? In every little nook and cranny of all of Kalinor or any woman?”

“Uh, actually, if you could please explain this phenomenon...”

“You said the wench’s name during orgasm.”

Devmond felt the cold wash of blood leaving his face. “Huh, really. You sure I didn’t say Janais? They sound quite similar. Nivias. Janais. A bit off the vine’s influence and you have a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t get drunk ever, and I’d have to be pretty plastered to ignore the fact your willing to rut with anything female.”

Devmond turned to see Janais’ rage build like the moments before a volcanic eruption. Every small digit, to her fingers and lips, were twitching under some momentous pressure. This amusement was to his advantage. Call it sadistic, but the angrier his opposite, the more peaceful he became. Like the heathen would release their scapegoats into the wild, the earlier anger was now given its adieu. More clear-headed then he had been for the last twenty-four hours, Devmond stood and felt the tingling sense of control against the vicious chaos that approached him.

“You watch your words, Janais. We may be related by marriage, but not bonded in blood. I have no responsibility for anything you may choose to humiliate yourself with.”

Janais gave a high-pitched laugh that did not compliment her nasally rasp. “Ooh, your threatening me, hm? Well, I can do that too, Mr. Passiflora-Incarnata.”

She jerked something out of her pocket and let it swing in front of her face like a pendulum. It spun in a circle against the weight of gravity. Grinning victoriously, she slowly slid her feet back to the edge of the platform.

“You look me in the eye, and swear you’ll never come near that half-breed again. So, dishonor our very heritage, and you can lose that very last bit of your brother that could get dug from his rotted corpse.”

“Janais, I swear to Vitaras’-”

“Go screw yourself next time.”

She let go.

[Dra-Nivias]

Of course.

It was that woman again, the one that made fun of her yesterday. Wonderful. And she was definitely mad at the stranger who was talking to her. Nivias realized that she didn't know his name. She dismissed that thought though, more intent on what was going on.

Nivias' thought process went about like this:

The woman - Janais - was obviously very mad. She was yelling at the man about something...yes, she was definitely mad. Why is she mad... Oh yes! Because here the man was, talking to her. And Janais has something in her hand, purple, shaped like a flower. And a chain. Impressive looking flower, it is. Why Janais would threaten to drop the necklace? It's not much of a threat. Although...wasn't that a purple passionflower? Passiflora Incarnata? She had called him 'Mr. Passiflora-Incarnata'. His flower! Wait--what did he say? She knows he would be here because he did that? Oh Viratas help me...

Nivias could see the devastated look on his face when Janais held it over the edge. She inwardly sighed. Janais happened to be standing on the one part of the platform that had a random piece jutting out. Small, but big enough to catch a necklace. There was a good chance that it landed there.

But should I tell them that? No. It's payback time for Janais, anyways. I can see if the necklace is on the ledge later.

Nivias was not very stealthy at all. When she walked her feet always seemed to make noise when they hit the ground. But when two people were arguing, well, you could dance around while screaming at the top of your lungs and they usually wouldn't notice. Nivias stood up and walked to the edge as quietly as she could. Of course, the necklace was there.

Janais should really look where she drop things.

"Hah! Devmond, did you see what I just did? Your precious necklace is now resting on the bottom of the cavern floor!" shouted Janais, walking towards Devmond.

Janais really had no notice of her surroundings, Nivias noticed. She was too busy yelling at -what was his name, Devmond?- to even hear Nivias walk up behind her. And that was saying something, since she could have probably alerted a deaf old lady to her presence with noise she was making. It was amazing how loud she was when she wasn't dancing...her feet made loud thuds when she walked, and she definitely didn't look like she could practically float when she danced. But still, Janais didn't notice her.

When Nivias realized that Janais was too busy to notice that she was directly behind her, she sighed. Janais stopped walking a few feet in front of Devmond, to yell at him more.

"How's that for payback? And unless you're going to crawl down there to get it, which I doubt you would do, I think my work here is done," Janais said, this time in a quieter tone.

This is too easy.

Nivias kicked Janais in the back of the knee, cutting her off from whatever she was just about say. She didn't kick very hard, but enough to make Janais fall over. Nivias laughed at how easily she made Janais fall over. It really was too easy.

[Devmond Incarnata]

He imagined it falling, but could not see it hit the ground. The beating of his heart was drowning him. The clicking of that hanging lock closed onto his neck from older to eldest. The clicking of a hundred crabs that fed around the pendant into his brother’s body like the clicking of the giant centipedes that lay in the floor of the caverns, feeding of the discarded refuse. Janais’ steps were louder then the driveling words that fell from her mouth. Her fangs were flashing in his face were brighter then the pain of her nails digging into his chest. He saw the woman eyes bulge, and she fell.

Dra-Nivias was standing over her body, shadowing it, laughing and dancing on tip-toe. Janais was face-down then rolled over, her lower face covered in blood. She grasped her nose and mouth slipping against the grime, swaying on her back and moaning. Devmond nodded to the Nivias in gratitude, and went to kneel at the bleeding mess with the reverence he attended to offerings as the second son. He grasped his cousins’ front and pulled her upwards into a tight embrace. “How you feeling, love?” he asked.

“Uh-uh. My nose, uh-huh.” she sobbed.

“Right, broken. Damn, that’s a lot of blood too. They’ll smell it a mile away.”

“I can’t breathe, guh. What?”

“They, the centipedes, or any of the pit-beasts.” Janais stopped sobbing and started shaking. “When you have only fed on trash and the wasted bodies of surrogates, along with a few scraps of stray bats, I can only imagine how wonderful if must be to catch something fresh and large enough for more then a couple bites.”

“Dev, please. Come on. If you do anything to me. Y-you’ll get put in the Sac.” Janais was digging her nails deeper into the wounds she already splayed on his skin. “Don’t touch me. Get off. Get off!”

“Easy. I’m not the type to go and throw a pretty girl off her balcony.” he said. His grip, however, stayed as tight. “No, your going to climb down on your own. Your going to search, and search, and search until you find it. If you don’t, you’ll probably be eaten by anything down there. If you come up here again empty handed, I let fire-girl over there do anything she likes. I doubt that a kick to the shins really equals a lifetime of persecution.”

She thrashed wildly against his arms, screaming for help. Devmond laughed at her, his own voice sounding unfamiliar but more welcome. “I was ready to give you that empty promise, you know. Although, it's not any business of yours as to who I associate with. When was the last time we really hung-out before last night? Oh, yes, it was at my father’s engagement party to your aunt Altha.”

“Dev, I’m not-”

He grabbed Janais by a fleshy side of her throat, and forcing her to gagging to meet his eyes. “Like hell you won’t. We’re family, remember? Because you know, dear, we only see each other at weddings and funerals.”