All my friends are heathens take it slow. Who: Penny & Elfleda What: A meeting & a bond When: August 13th, evening Where: Penny’s apartment Rating: Mild - mention of murder and gore Status: Complete
Penny brushed her fingers through her hair.
Derek had stepped out a while ago though she didn’t mind nor was she worried about it. That was the thing, she trusted the vampire wholeheartedly and he’d yet to give her a reason not to. He was faithful, loyal, loving. It was hard to deny deep feelings for him because he was so sweet.
They’d had some discussion about his current quest to find his maker - the blonde vampire, Veronica - but she never pushed more than he wanted to give. He always gave. She did her best to give, too.
Humming softly, she pulled on a tight fitting black dress. The idea of going out on a hunt was the plan and preparation was key to success. Always stick to the plan. It hadn’t failed her yet.
A drawer of her vanity would open. Occupied, she browsed through it, looking for something.
She didn’t know it, but from the mirror, something dark and smoky could be seen wafting away from it. No sound, only movement, like vapour from a hot cup of coffee drifting up and away. No heat, either, though one wouldn’t have guessed it from the way it was gradually simmering away from that reflective surface. The colour gathering into more of a clearly black hue.
It almost cracked. Almost… But whatever gave sufficient pressure to almost warp, caused the material to sing out in a creaking noise.
When Penny did next glance up, the entire surface was thick with that same jet black discolouration. So much of one that it seemed less glass and more like oil.
And, somehow, all ambient sound had suddenly zeroed out, allowing an otherworldly voice to now speak, free of audible distractions.
“Mirror... Mirror... On the wall...”
Her hearing was acute, keen, nearly that of the more immortal counterparts but she had not sensed any presence until the voice began to speak so suddenly. Even the tone sounded fluid, like thick water or oil. Penny nearly jumped off of the stool, those green eyes wide. The room seemed quiet, too quiet, but her focus remained on the cloud swirling in the mirror, speaking.
The rhyme she knew from human children, a movie about a Queen and a girl sent to live in the forest.
“Who is the fairest of them all?” A tip of her head as she finished the line, curious. The fear began to disappear and give way to mild interest.
Whatever she’d been searching for in the drawer was forgotten, it closed and her hand came to rest on the top of the vanity. “Who are you?” Or what was it.
Something swirled within that void, like it was a vertical plane of black water. The movement of an undercurrent. Something biting at her lure.
“Surrender,” came the enticement of reply. “Opportunity... The discordant note who would have you lead a chorus.”
Then, reaching out from the inner gloom, deathly white arms could be seen and emerged softly, smoothly, through the darkness. Out, somehow through the mirror, turning palms up to offer themselves in an invitation. The next time the voice spoke, it sounded more harmonious. More physically rooted in this realm.
“Attend me, Athena… Welcome me into your world.”
Before her eyes something shifted. She could feel it gnawing at the shield of her lure with jagged teeth as if to open the veil and get beyond. Surrender it said. Did she have any other choice? Her frame stiffened, back arching into a near perfect line. Opportunity.
Those hands reached for her and yet Penny did not automatically reach for them until the cloud uttered her name. Her true name. How did this being know?
Curious, she finally did reach up and take those outstretched limbs, pulling gently as if to bring the other through the glass and into the realm in which she dwelled.
The inches ticked down until they were… Touching. Human skin, oddly cold. Yet, there was a curious sense of warmth in that coolness. Not a physical warmth, but that which came out of a connection. An intrinsic sense of alignment trying to slot itself into place.
The watery black cleared further and a face, gothic in cosmetic refinement, loomed out.
“My dear girl…”
Out through the mirror she passed, as if a snake rearing up out of its gloom. Somehow, an entire torso was brought forth and the one known as Lady Eflleda drifted out. Like pulling a cloud, only a feather-light touch seemed to be required and the blackness, too, seemed to be brought into the room, as though attached to her. A gaseous thing, passing through the vanity table and billowing downwards, once the visitor had arrived. The likeness of a dress, complete with skirt, was forming and being brought into refreshed solidity.
The entrance hadn’t been necessary, but it had been desired. A symbolic demonstration of invitation across a dimensional threshold.
“Curious, is it not? That some should look forever to the horizon, when appetites are what define direction, purpose.”
She felt as if she were in a slow motion dream, coasting on the coattails of reality as it morphed into the ether of the unknown. That skin was cold yet warm and Penny felt her skin crawling a bit from the sensation of the connection. Only when she made herself let go did she behold the onset of form: A frame, a face, the fabric of the dress so ornate and dark.
Two words jumped at her lips but the siren kept her mouth shut as she processed what she was seeing. Her frame had twisted, pivoted on the stool to face the woman standing there.
“Who are you?” She inquired again, softly. There was no doubt of this woman’s power, she could feel it deep in her bones even without a tangible connection. “Do you have an appetite?”
There was a sensation of something widely exhaling, yet no sight or sound to accompany it. The figure’s invisible cloud of what some termed corruption, others inversion. Those on the darker and more predatory side of existence called it something else. It was invisibly filling the room, moving around the girl. Seeking to take root and ignite whatever shadowy desires it might find already within her.
“Emissary of the Black Light,” came the simple response. For some, an ominous one. For others, perhaps somehow soothing. Here, the ghostly white figure dressed in ebony attire and cosmetics looked down at Penny, like she was a child or new arrival to a congregation.
“Lady Elfleda,” she clarified and black tongue, black lips, pronounced the words with absolute clarity. There seemed to be much which was absolute about this character. “And I know of a great many appetites… Including those of flesh and the dining upon it.”
Elfleda.
Derek had mentioned that name to her. Penny wasn’t afraid, more intrigued. “Lady Elfleda,” she repeated, tasting it on her tongue. It felt heavy and yet somehow satisfying. Her interest piqued at the admission and somehow she believed every word to be true.
Penny rose to stand. Palms smoothed the skirt of her dress but the idea of going out had faded away. “And, Lady Elfleda, why are you here? Because we have similar interests in dining?” Figures like these always had purpose, some desire behind an appearance, it was never at random.
The hands still clasped hers. Their owner tilted head sideways, as if gauging something, then let go of one to bring it in a soft caress of Penny's hair. It was pleasing for Elfleda to hear her name being spoken like that.
"Many a feast, have I shared, Athena. You would make a fine guest at my table."
Slowly, Elfleda turned and began to walk through the room. Examining this belonging and that, with a fine, if possibly dismissive gaze. "Your trinkets give only partial pleasure," she observed with one such object in hand. "They will never be so filling as the sense of ingestion. Of becoming one through absorbtion. The satisfaction of creating a bond, if need be, through bloodshed. You and I... We share this fondness."
Then, returning to Penny, the ethereal visitor smiled. Not toothily so, but in a subtle curving of black against white. A projected sense of belonging.
Was she about to suggest they eat through the living together? Cut a swathe through Las Vegas and consume all before them?
"I offer you my blood, Athena, my flesh... If you promise to slow your engagement with teeth and savour?" Arms opened, beckoning the carnivorous girl forth into her embrace. "Happy are those at my supper..."
Those fingers in her hair stirred something inside of her. It was as if she understood the plight. To ingest - as so eloquently put - was what kept her young and beautiful. Derek wouldn’t want her if she looked anything less, she knew it. Her kind weren’t known for their otherworldly looks the way the merfolk were.
Her green eyes watched Elfleda move around the room.
“I accept,” she breathed. A step, and then another, as if in a trance. Penny moved into that embrace, arms lifting to curl around the lady - her lady.