Tess of the Endless (oneofmynames) wrote in ourtrueselves, @ 2010-01-29 01:05:00 |
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Current mood: | predatory |
Entry tags: | natalie kelly, richard hardwell |
Say Goodbye...
Who: Richard Hardwell and Natalie Kelly
What: Looking for love in all the wrong places
When: January 29th, 2010
Where: Starts in Chicago, IL, and goes downhill from there
Warnings: Language, Blood, Violence, Implied Rape, Character Death
It had been just about a month since Natalie had moved into the castle, and it had been one thing after another. She'd lost friends, and almost made a few enemies in her attempts to help her allies; but just when she'd thought she was starting to get a feel for things, her vision concerning the attempt on Michael Morgan's life had been fulfilled. Now, she was feeling lost, and exhausted in more ways than one. She just wanted a shoulder to lean on, and so--almost instinctively--she fled to Chicago, where Dex had given her an open invitation.
Maybe they could have a few good laughs over disappearing zombies and failed assassination attempts. Maybe she'd even be able to shake the feeling that ever since that particular incident, a certain someone had been watching her even more closely than ever. But she should have taken Jax' advice and let them pick her up from the airport instead of having a cab drop her off at their curb.
It had just been one of those months. Kidnapping, killing, corrupting, every little thing that he could do and do well, he did it. Now there was just the simple matter of where he should go from here. They were probably all over his apartment and gallery like flies by now, and now with the takeover of The Agency, it wasn't like he couldn't go back to what he had been doing before. But Camelot was still out there. As were the Winchesters in all of their glory. At least he had left a little lasting present for Annie and her son.
That had him grinning as he followed his new target slowly. Not so much a target, more like someone fun. And after all the tiring business of unleashing a virus on a small unsuspecting town and now having so many people dead, he needed some fun in his life. Pulling his cap lower and his coat around his body tighter, he watched her move, yellow eyes dancing behind the sunglasses.
Pulling her own jacket a little closer to ward off a sudden chill, Natalie glanced over her shoulder, hesitating at the corner where she would have turned toward the little curiosity shot that was the Dresden/Constantine apartment. If she was being followed--and she tried to stress the if--she didn't like the thought of leading anyone to Dex' place, despite the fact that she knew it was warded in such a way that nothing could actually follow her inside without an invitation. Keleios' need to protect her allies had always been stronger than her own instinct for self preservation, and it was because of this that she made her first mistake in turning away from the safely of the apartment.
Her second mistake was not reaching for her phone and informing Dex and Jax of her change of plans--or calling for help.
He saw the hesitation, and he fully expected her to pull out a phone, get some of her buddies down here asap. But she didn't, which gave him pause and he flattened his back against the wall, leaning against it like he was a casual observer. For a moment, his hand twitched, either for a gun to hold, or, more for him to use his powers. Slamming her against the wall would be something that would be most delightful, actually, and it wasn't like he hadn't done it before.
Fighting with her was just too much fun. And he was getting bored of this subterfuge, and so, moving quickly down the street, he used just enough so that her feet wouldn't be able to move as he came and wrapped an arm around her with a grin.
"Long time no see, sweetheart. I almost thought you were avoiding me."
Helpless was not a feeling that Natalie appreciated, but that was exactly what she got, a moment after her fight-or-flight instinct told her to get the hell out of there. Finding herself stuck--trapped--and in the arms of a familiar demon no less, she drew a deep breath, fighting for calm even as her heart slammed into her ribs.
"Azazel," she said, narrowing her eyes--knowing that to see them widen in panic would only excite him more. "Or would you prefer I call you Richard in public?" Not that there were many people around. For all she knew, they looked like a bona fide couple, in their present state of affairs. "What do you want?"
"I'm used to going by Rick now, but he's pretty much almost gone. This merging business really does take its toll," He smirked, glancing at a couple walking down the street beside them for a moment; they did look like a couple, and no one would ever guess that they both wanted to tear each other's throats out. Grinning now, he bared his teeth as he nuzzled at her neck, feeling her heart pound quickly, knowing that even if she didn't react much on the outside, she was reacting on the inside.
"I know you've been trying to find me. So I decided to come to you and make your work a little less difficult," He chuckled lowly. "Besides, we missed our monthly sparring session, so of course I had to come see you and make sure you're okay." His glasses slid down his nose a bit, his eyes flashing at her.
Natalie's breath caught in her throat as she felt his mouth over her pulse-points, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "How thoughtful of you," she said, leaning away from him a little--as much to put some fraction of distance between them as to look at him--but the eyes held her transfixed. Those eyes. Those glittering, golden eyes. Could they read her thoughts? Did he know that she'd been dreaming of him almost every night since...? She couldn't remember how long.
Blinking, she cut off that train of thought abruptly, before she could start reliving the visions of ice, and blood; of lust, and steel. "I didn't know you cared."
Mind reading was never a skill he had learned, but something in the way her eyes were flickering told him that something was going on, beyond the fact that he essentially held her in his grip.
"You do know how caring I can be. Really, I had hoped this wouldn't be such a big surprise for you." He moved away a bit and slowly let go of his hold on her feet. He could fling her against a wall if he wanted to, but that was the sport in this; who was going to be the one to break from the pleasantries first.
And so he let the psychological warfare begin.
The moment Natalie felt him release his hold on her, she was taken with an almost overwhelming urge to run--but she knew that he would only sweep her off her feet again, so she resisted. She took another couple of breaths, crossing her arms over her chest; her fingers itching to reach for something. One of the many weapons stowed in the pocket-dimension that was spelled into the bag that doubled as her purse, or maybe just to slip her gloves off and stroke his face--as if his pretense of caring had somehow warmed her heart. Really, he just gave her chills, but she--or at least her better half--had dealt with men like that before.
"What do you want, Rick?"
"Not too much. Some of your time. You may have seen and heard about it, but it looks like I'm a wanted man nowadays," He said with a smirk. And it was Azazel talking, though Rick was not so much fighting him anymore. They had come to some sort of compromise now, and while no one could tell how long it lasted, if anyone bothered to look close enough, they would see that sometimes it was Rick looking out at the world, wondering when and how some things had gone horribly, horribly wrong.
"I heard through the grapevine that you'd been looking for me, so," He stood back and waved his arms out to his sides with a little horrible smile. "Ta-da. Surprised enough?"
"So good to see you," she said, with no little sarcasm lacing her voice--though she was searching his face even now, trying to see if there was any part of Richard left in him that she could summon in any way, shape, or form. She didn't know. This one wasn't covered in her Book of Demons. "Why me?"
Even as the words left her mouth, she felt a familiar whisper in the back of her mind, impressions and memories of an elfish sword forged with demon magic, and the realization that only an elf who bore the mark of a demon could wield it. Funny how similar her story was to a certain Winchester this Yellow-Eyed Demon was so fond of. "You know what?" she said, backing up a couple steps, as if testing the boundaries of how much distance he would let her put between them. "Never mind. I don't want to know."
"Aw, really? You don't want to know even a teeny little bit?" Smirking, he let her take a few steps back, his hand coming up as if he was stopping someone from coming closer, when in fact, he was merely making the first step towards catching her. "But do you really want to know why? Because I'm going to tell you anyway."
Eyes glittering behind sunglasses that had slipped a bit, he used some of his power, enough that it merely pushed her against the wall. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough that she would have to stay there. Running his free hand through his hair, he then crossed his arms and looked at her with white hot intensity in his eyes.
"Why you? Simple. You're--" he broke off for a moment as his face became more slack, and he looked around for a moment as if bewildered by where he was. The next second, he was back to before, finishing off his sentence. "Because you're just like me. Because you're just like all of us. You have evil growing inside of you, no matter how much you try to temper it down by pretending to be good."
She didn't bother to respond to his baiting; something told her he would explain it all anyway, and with pleasure. Still, she couldn't keep a small exclamation of protest from escaping her mouth as he pushed her against the wall without so much as touching her. She knew there was evil, and darkness lurking somewhere underneath the surface, but there was a difference between having the potential for evil and embracing it. Keleios hadn't let it twist her, as Azazel had done to Richard. Neither would Natalie.
"I'm not like you!"
"Oh, sweetheart, methinks you doth protest to much," Rick said with a wicked grin on his lips as he looked around, making note of the empty street, and he picked up his glasses and tossed them to the wall, watching them shatter for a moment before looking back into her eyes, yellow burning brightly. What once was human might still lay beneath the surface, perhaps just an inkling, but for all intents and purposes, it was gone.
"You are like me. Sure, you hide it all away, ally with the good guys, but we both know what you're really like, deep down in those blackest pits of your heart," He said as he took a step closer to her. "There's an evilness there, and while you keep trying to make it go away, its still there, overflowing the small space you put it in. Sinking its claws deep into you. The true you is just waiting for you to merge with it. And that's when you'll finally succumb, because you're going to get a taste. One small taste, and you're going to be hooked."
The glasses shattered, and if she flinched, it was all in the eyes--a startled blink as he drilled her with that burning gaze--as much from the allure of his dark power as from the impact of his shades against the wall.
She wanted to fight, to push away, to push him away, but all she could manage was a petulant little stomp of her foot as he held her in check. "No," she said, but it didn't come out nearly as forceful as she wanted to, so she said it again for emphasis. "No. Never."
"No? There was a little hesitation there," He shrugged his shoulders, looking away for a moment with his eyes closed. He never really understood people who resisted the darkness in them, ones who said no with a little too much force in their voice, but more like a force of will to actually say no. "We both know you want to say yes." He took a step towards her, and then another, until he was close enough that she could probably feel his breath on her cheek, and yet their bodies weren't touching.
"Your heart is pounding a little too fast for a 'no'."
"I am Natalie Kelly," she said, slipping into Keleios Incantare's old habit of reminding herself who she was--like a mantra--in an attempt to ground herself. Her heart was racing, but that didn't mean she had to say yes to anything the demon had to offer.
She could feel his breath on her face, and she could smell him--almost taste him--as she took another deep breath. He smelled like temptation. "I am not like you."
He leaned up and whispered it in her ear, breath warm as he spoke. "You are Natalie Kelly. You are like me. You are evil. Now's the time to embrace the evil, and give in to what you really want." He smirked against her ear, one hand settling lightly at her waist, even as he tightened his control on her, making her press more into the wall.
"You are just like me. You want the same things that I do. You're evil, and you're going to show it. And once that happens, who is going to help you then? Don't turn away from what you know. Let it flow through you, taste it. Enjoy it." The other hand that had been on the wall near here head went to tracing the lines on her neck.
"Give in and let go, sweetheart."
Natalie closed her eyes, her body tensing beneath his touch, feeling something stir inside her that was more than just dark magic. It reminded her of the way Keleios had felt about Lothor. How she'd hated him, but how he did things to her that made her wonder if Dark was really so bad. She swallowed, trying to remind herself that Lothor had actually risked his life for them, and that Azazel had never done anything but push. Or had he? She was stronger now, thanks to everyone who'd challenged her to step outside her comfort zone--and he was one of those who challenged her the most.
"So I should thank you?" she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral. There was still some part of her that warned her that she was treading a fine line, but there wasn't anywhere else she could go. "Is that it?"
"You could thank me, but that's not what I'm really here for," He shrugged, tracing the line of veins that were there, but never showed. "What I came here to do is make sure that all of my hard work was not in vain. I mean, here we are, I could die at any moment, you could die any moment; how about we have some fun before things get too hot to handle?"
Laughing for a moment, he leaned his head down, pushing aside the cloth there for a moment so he could bite down hard. He wasn't a vampire by any means, and it might have been easier if he was. Instead, he had to keep biting hard until he broke some of the skin, blood welling up from the place. He would have done this with a knife; in fact, would almost certainly do it again with a knife, but he couldn't bring a knife out in the open to cut her a little bit without anyone noticing.
He licked at the tiny amount of blood and smirk. "You might try to hide it, but blood never lies."
"All your hard work?" Never mind that if Kel was evil, she'd been that way when Azazel had found her. There had been no yellow-eyed demon standing over her crib, though for a moment, she wished that there had been. It was always easier to blame someone else. She, Keleios Incantare, had made a deal in desperation, and now, evil sought to make her hold up her end of the bargain. Whether this was the particular brand of evil that had marked her at the beginning, it mattered not.
She struggled in vain as he held her, gritting her teeth against the stinging throb of his teeth sinking into her flesh, feeling muscles bruise beneath the broken skin. She hissed in wordless protest, but it was too late. He'd tasted her blood, her magic, and whatever demon taint had crossed over along with it. Again, Ache Silvestri--the Aching Silver sword--whispered in the back of her mind, begging her to call it to hand; but she refused. "Fuck you."
"I thought we've already been through that little talking exchange," He sighed dramatically and leaned back a bit, tongue swiping his lips one last time for the taste of her blood, the taint of evil in there making him smirk. "All talk and no action. Really, it almost becomes sad."
He stepped aside and clenched his hand into a fist, as if he wanted to squeeze her out like a sponge, before letting go, letting his hand relax and her body to move instead of being stuck in the same position as it had been in before.
"Or did you think that was what I was? All talk and no action?" He narrowed his eyes, anger beginning to show besides the calm and level-headedness that he usual had. He knew this could end badly, but then, stepping out of the box was always nice now and then.
Natalie shuddered involuntarily at the feel of his tongue swiping over the bite-mark, sagging against the wall as he suddenly released her. She didn't say that was what everyone had thought of him, that he was all talk, that he was some young punk upstart without the balls or the clout to back up his masterful, Saxondale-esque boasting. She didn't say anything for a while, mentally running though her control exercises. The tension between them was palpable.
"No," she said, "I knew you were just biding your time." That was the way it always went, wasn't it? Sin is crouching at your door? "So, enough small talk, then. You wouldn't be here if you didn't have plans for me. But whatever happens between us, it's not happening here, in the middle of the street."
"Don't feel like having people see your inner demons coming to light? Or are you just trying to get away so that you can try and kill me without looking like a murderer?" He smirked. "Because if its the latter, I can let Rick experience the full brunt of your power. You could watch the eyes of an innocent kid being killed by you. Don't think I won't do that if you even decide to do it."
Rick then bowed, making sure his eyes connected with her even when his back was at a complete right angle. "Lead the way then, Miss."
Kel stiffened as he called her on the carpet. It had crossed her mind, playing along and then trying to kill him; but she supposed it should come as no surprise that he would see through it. He was right, though; she didn't want any witnesses around, just in case he did manage to break her defenses and she lost control, nor did she really want to harm Richard Hardwell. And he was rubbing it in. Like salt.
"Whatever," she said, blinking deliberately to break eye contact with him. She knew the rule; never lower your eyes to an enemy--or show him your back--but she needed something else to focus on besides those glowing, topaz orbs. "So I don't have the same flare for drama you have." She turned and headed down the street, stopping herself short of saying 'bite me,' knowing all too well that he'd already done that. Ducking into the next vacant alley, she didn't need to look to know that he would follow her like a shadow. She was so acutely alert that she could feel his presence crawling over her skin. Still, she did turned to face him, catching hold of the lapels of his jacket in what might have been a fit of passion.
Really, she just wanted to have a solid grasp on him as she invoked a teleportation spell--vanishing them both from the alley and depositing them in one of the few places she knew well enough to trust herself to teleport to safely. Her father's hunting cabin, up in Canada.
Of course he followed her, not as a stalker, but as her shadow, someone who was the darkest parts of her own soul, following her around with her day to day doings and deeds. Though he wasn't prepared for the teleportation spell; not that it was so different from escaping from a body via black smoke, but being jerked around, not knowing where they would end up.
It might have been the only time that anyone would ever see the fear in his eyes, just for that one split second moment. "Maybe some warning next time?" He asked, looking away and pulling away as well, taking in the looks of the cabin. "Maybe you should tell me where we are, as well."
"That would have been nice of me, wouldn't it?" Kel observed, stressing the nice. And here she'd thought he wanted her to drop the good-girl act? She shrugged. "We're in Ontario, Canada, somewhere I know well enough not to teleport us inside a wall. Fair enough?"
She crossed the room, putting some distance between herself and the demon, though there wasn't far to go. The cabin had all of one room--two, if you counted the toilet. there was a wood stove in the front corner, some cabinets and a work bench--probably tools, a first aid kit, and a hunting knife or two stashed somewhere--and a bed in the back. No devil traps. Much to her dismay. She hadn't planned on bringing any demons home to daddy. "It's not Antartica, but, there's still plenty of snow and ice this time of year." She held a hand over the stove top. Cold. "And from the looks of it, no one's been out here in a good while."
"Aww, how sweet of you, babe," Rick laughed, eyes narrowing. The good girl act could be dropped, but if she lost that sarcastic streak in her, well...how much fun would that be? He liked verbal parring as much as regular sparring. "So, what, the plan is for some rehabilitation out here in the great outdoors? I'm pretty sure there aren't any traps here for me to deal with."
He looked around the room, and then walked the circumference slowly. It was nice, could almost be cozy if it wasn't so damn cold. "Or are you planning to spray the snow outside with my blood?"
"No traps," Kel said, checking the woodbox. Throwing some kindling in the stove, she held a hand out in front of her and thought of heat and fire. The wood caught. Not bad. "I don't know. The thought had crossed my mind, but as you so aptly reminded me, your blood is Rick's blood. So unless you're planning on redecorating with mine..."
Another shrug. "It's not like I planned this out ahead of time."
"True," Rick said with a shrug, watching with interest as she got the heat on. It was something simple, but it stioll showed how different they all were from regular, normal people, and he turned his head away, going to the couch and sitting down.
"What's the plan then? You must have a plan now that we're here, even if you didn't have one before." He put his feet up on the table in front of him. "Or could it be that you had plans before this and now somehow you've lost them? Or are you really so afraid of spilling a little blood?"
"I'm not afraid," she countered, too quickly. "Of blood," she added, "I'm a vet. I wouldn't last long if I were squeamish of blood." Never mind that her reincarnate had been known to draw protective runes in her own blood when she had nothing else to write with. She crossed her arms, and remained where she was, beside the wood stove, drilling him with cool, blue eyes. "What is it you want me to say? That I thought about killing you? That every night in my dreams, the sword sings in my mind with a lover's voice, but it speaks of cutting and blood and makes them beautiful?"
She swallowed hard, and looked away, but the dancing flame flickered from red to blue, reminding her of Ache Silvestri's power. "Is that what you want?" Was that what she wanted?
"Partially. You sound absolutely gorgeous when you talk about killing someone, do you know that?" He smirked and stood up, moving closer to her. It was like he was holding an hourglass; he could feel the sands of time slipping away, with only a little bit left, and yet, when there was no more sand left on top, what would be the outcome?
Him or her? Or could he take her down with him as much as he could? He went over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist in a parody of a lover's embrace.
"Tell me more about how much you want to kill me."
Her breath hitched as she felt his arms around her, pulse fluttering like a caged bird. His voice at her ear made her shiver, but not with cold. "I want to..." She swallowed again, drawing a deep breath as she grappled with the words, the images and feelings that crowded her mind. "I want to see you bleed," she said, "I want to see fear in your eyes when you realize that this little girl holds your life in her hands. I want to make you pay for everything you did to those children."
She crossed her arms under her breasts, hugging herself; unconsciously wrapping her arms around his, her fingers gripping cloth and flesh as she did so. She knew the thoughts were not just her own, but neither was it solely the hunger of sword that whispered through her. It was her own wrath. Her own lust. "I want to taste your death. My vengeance."
"All those little kids? Those two little girls...the twins, right? It was a pleasure to kill them. I didn't need any orders from anyone to do that," He whispered in her ear, a forked tongue snake hissing all of his bad deeds into a confessional that couldn't run away, couldn't close the curtain. Couldn't hide if it wanted to. "I just found them to be such an annoyance. And then Annie and her son."
He paused for a moment as he held her tighter, the music of his voice going faster and faster. "Annie did get pretty banged up, but then, I did have something to settle with Dean there. And then Teddy. He was a little trooper, even through the whole process. I can't wait to see how he grows up with his new additions, can you?" He chuckled lowly.
Natalie had all she could do to hold on to whatever thread of control she thought she had as the demon's voice wove around her. Whether he was trying to entrance and entrap her or not, it had the same effect as listening to the crooning sword would have had. It was just the way her elfish magic worked. Who she was.
"I don't need to see," she said, "I know how it feels. Growing up will that kind of power at your fingertips." She ran her left hand over his arm, through his sleeve, almost wishing that their skin was bare, so she could show him what she meant. It made her knees feel weak, just thinking about it. All the ways a witch could kill a man.
"Growing up with that kind of power...doesn't it make you ever want to just let go? Loose all control and let it move about freely?" He smirked, leaning his head down and mouthing at her shoulder, where he could still see the bruising from the bite marks.
"Its intoxicating, and really, you should try it sometime. Not afraid of what might happen, are you?"
She shrugged, not exactly leaning into his touch, but not exactly pulling away either. It was tempting, she couldn't deny that. She'd grown comfortable enough with the rest of her magic to know that all she'd have to do was open up to it, and all the dark power of the demon taint would rise to do her bidding. But she was afraid. Afraid that if she gave herself over to it, even once, that she would cease to be the one in control, and that it would be the evil that controlled her.
"Of course, I am afraid," she said, "I'd be a fool not to be. Aren't you afraid of what might happen to you if I took that kind of power into my hands?"
"I could be, but then, if I was, I wouldn't be here," He grinned, holding onto her tighter. There was no such thing as too tight, after all. "But then, I am waiting for you to just let go. Unless I need to start searching for it, and you are rather comfortable in my arms at this moment."
His teeth grazed just below her ear, one hand running down the side of her body, her curves making him want to press her into something hard and uncomfortable. He wanted her to fight back. He wanted her to fight back, to use the darkness to try and take him down. All he could do now was push and push and push.
She was comfortable--too comfortable--but his words, and the sudden wandering of hands reminded her, and she stiffened slightly, reaching for the bag that still hung from her shoulder. What exactly she was reaching for, she didn't know, she just needed to touch something besides Azazel. He could probably crush her, if he wanted, but somehow she knew that if he'd wanted to, he would have done so already.
Tensing, she wavered just a moment too long as she wondered whether to open the spelled bag and call the sword that she had hidden in its unnatural depths, or to take off the glove that kept her demon-mark from spilling its poison through Azazel's smooth skin. The sword was calling to her, and it held captive the voices of too many demons for her to fight back in such a vulnerable state of mind. But which voice was the loudest? Fire? Ice? Or seduction?
It was almost like he could read her thoughts, read her emotions, read every single fiber of her being. And it was an immovable object against an unstoppable force, and he hoped that it didn't take much longer. On one side, he felt like he had forever, and yet, with everyone still reeling over the disappearance of an entire town, he could feel the sands of time trickling down through the hourglass, and he didn't know how much longer he really had left.
Though he did enjoy how it felt like that ticking clock was louder whenever he pressed closer to her.
"Do it," he whispered in her ear.
He was close, too close for comfort, and she could barely hear his whisper over the rush of adrenaline and her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Pressing back against him, hoping to catch him off guard with the sudden shifting of her weight, she reached into her bag. She needed a greater demon. Something potentially equal to Azazel's power. Her right hand closed around the sword as she tried to twist around to face him--but it wasn't Alharzor the red demon that came out to play as she clawed the fingers of her left hand and struck out at the one with yellow eyes.
It was the succubus.
She twisted, and immediately he let go, because this was what he was waiting for, wasn't it? She was giving into what she wanted, what he wanted her to want, right? She was letting darkness fill her soul, sate her hunger, or even make it a little bit more, wasn't that what he wanted?
Of course it was, and he grinned, absolutely delighted as he stood back, leaning back so that he wasn't hit by her hand as he looked into the eyes of the woman he knew and the thing that had come out to play.
Shrugging the leather strap over her head as he dodged her, she let the bag fall to the floor. Kicking it out of the way, she twirled the sword in her hand--still locked in its scabbard--and lunged at him, striking out with the hilt. Her coat had fallen open, and she shrugged out of this too, tossing the weapon from hand to hand and tossing the coat across the back of the couch as she sought to close the distance between them.
She wasn't out to kill him yet, but she did intend to have a little fun, and if it was too much for his human vessel, well, then that was just too bad.
It was a good thing that Rick had kept himself in good shape. Yes, he could have gone sedentary and all that, but when you're torturing, killing, and doing all you could in the name of chaos and plain old fun, it was easier to get around when you were in shape. Especially since he had not been using the MTNs for awhile now, because really, everyone knew that they tracked you that way.
He wasn't going to be caught in that net with everyone else. So he had traveled, and right now, this was too much fun. He moved back when she lunged, and he grabbed the closest thing to him, which was an umbrella, of all things. But it worked for the moment.
"Engarde," He said with a little smirk as his eyes took on a new intensity.
She still hadn't drawn the sword from it's scabbard, but for the moment, she didn't need to. They were only playing with sticks. Still, she parried the umbrella with the elven sword, scabbard and all, stepping closer with a flick of her wrist in an attempt to disarm him. Her eyes darkened, like smoke on blue glass, as she pressed any advantage she could find--pushing him physically as he had pushed her mentally and emotionally.
Pushing him, consciously or unconsciously, toward the bed in the far corner.
He knew that she was pushing him towards the bed. He would have to be blind deaf and stupid not to see that. But seeing the fact that she gave in, and knowing that while he was watching her, and knowing that it wasn't exactly her...
Well. Who exactly was he dealing with here. Because the only thing that he could think of was that Rick had somehow managed to surface a bit more, and that the worried feeling deep inside of him must be Rick having a problem with this. It was inconceivable for him to be wary of someone like her, no matter what.
So he upped the stakes a little bit and moved towards the bed quicker, eventually sitting down on it, the umbrella ready just in case.
Natalie continued to wrestle with herself, in some far corner of her mind, so that while she wasn't entirely given over to the nature of the succubus, she was seeking to use it. To bend it to her will. She was angry, and it clouded her perception. She knew this--but somehow she couldn't bring herself to care.
"Oh..." she said, her voice taking on a smokey, sultry undertone as she tucked the weapon under her arm and approached the bed where Rick sat. "Is this how we're going to play?" She slid up close and personal, pushing the umbrella aside, and pressing the pommel of the sword against his ribs as if to say she could have just as easily done the same thing with a blade. "Well, let me tell you this. Your death will be a pleasure...for us both."
He narrowed his eyes for a moment, feeling the pommel against his ribs and then he smirked, giving her a wink.
"Wouldn't want to waste any of that. Guess we should get started then, right?" His smirk widened as he reached for her and pulled her closer, even if it meant it was a little harder to breathe.
She didn't want to let go of the sword--something told her she would want it later--but she also knew it might be difficult to keep him distracted with one hand. Still, she kept it where it was, raking her free hand through his hair and tugging almost roughly as she leaned into him. As her lips ghosted over the pulse in his neck, she could almost taste the demon in him, and her own heart beat a little faster in response--even as her thumb moved to unlatch the sword from it's scabbard.
Pushing him backwards--not with any superhuman strength, but not gently either--she crawled across the bed in a strange blend of hunter and seductress, the sword still clutched in her right hand as she ran her left along his leg and over his torso, fumbling with his shirt. There was something incongruous in the action, almost shy, as if she still couldn't rectify her inexperience with the thing whose essence she had borrowed. That, and she was having trouble doing what she wanted to do with just one hand.
Frustrated, she tossed the sword aside, hearing it slip to the floor near the foot of the bed with a metallic clatter as she straddled the demon and set to teasing him with both hands. Even then, she couldn't keep from reaching for a smaller blade that she had tucked into the ankle of her boot, just as the half elf would have done.
He let her play for a while, let her ruin his expensive shirts--popping buttons as she took his lapels and both hands and ripped, nicking his flesh as she slit his undershirt with her pretty little blade. He let her think she had the upper hand as she worked her strange magic. Drank in the darkness that was rolling off her like perfume. Like the sweat that trickled down both of their faces in the heat of the small cabin.
Then, with a twist of his body and a flick of his wrist, he flipped her over--pinning her arms overhead and wrenching the knife from her grasp. "Thanks for saving me the trouble, sweetheart," he purred, running the edge of the knife over her skin like a feather. "I promise you're gonna like this."
Gasping at the sweet-hot sting of his tongue as he buried his face in her neck, lapping at the places where he'd bitten and cut her, Natalie jerked her wrists out of his hand--her fingers fumbling to strip off her gloves and undo the sports tape that covered her demon-mark.
Another flicker of power and he had her wrists pinned again with unseen bonds, growling a little as he realized just how close she'd come to touching him with her sinister hand. It was a realization that excited him, and scared Rick--but he pushed those thoughts away, shoving the little boy back in his mental cage, as he took what he wanted from the witch who wouldn't admit she was oh, so deliciously wicked.
Afterward, Kel would remember the screams, the pleading--the choking as the cloying aura of his power threatened to suffocate her, drowning out her cries of no, no, no. How it made her want to be sick, even as she felt her body responding to it in some twisted way. In the middle of it, all she could to was wait for his control to slip--and when it did, in that moment when he leaned over her with that smug smile of his, thinking that she was broken, she was she fought back with everything she had.
Throwing her hands out in front of her, she thought of fire again--this time of burning shame--shoving him away in a burst of flame as her hands connected with his chest. Not enough to burn him--she was still too panicked for that--but enough to put some distance between them so she could try to reach her sword.
He jerked back, his eyes flaring yellow as he laughed at her, basking in the afterglow of sorcerous flames that licked at him and went out. So much hate, so much fire. He liked her. It was too bad that only one of them would be walking out of there alive. They could have taken over the world.
Grasping the scabbard in her itching, throbbing left hand, the sword itself literally leaped into her other hand as Natalie screamed curses at the darkness--and the demon who mocked her. From then on, it became a danse macabre, the sword resonating with her psychic energy, singing for blood and making it beautiful.
Azazel fought back, of course, throwing his power at her and striking for joints with any weapon he could find--the umbrella, the iron pokers by the wood stove, daddy's hunting knives--but she had tapped into the sword's dark magic and he could feel Richard's body growing weaker as she bled him. Their blood mingled, staining the enclosed space, and there was nowhere for him to go, no way for him go smoking out of his meat when she backed him into a corner with the blade poised at his throat.
But he could let Richard cry...
"Don't...don't....Just finish it. Finish me. Just. Please...please burn my body after. My mom...I don't want her to know....I have no right to ask. But please. Before he comes back, do it, do it no--"
But Richard wasn't begging for what the Yellow eyed demon had thought he would, and it took him a moment to wrest control back from his desperate young host. "You can't do it, can you?" he taunted, knowing that Natalie was probably stunned by the request as well. "Even if you could, you can't kill me. You don't have the right equipment to get it up--"
That moment was all the hesitation that she needed, dropping the point of the sword just enough to plunge it up under his ribs. A whispered prayer of apology escaped her lips as rich, black, heart blood poured from the wound, over the blade, staining her hands; and all that was Azazel was drawn from Richard Hardwell's body and into Aching Silver, bringing death and vengeance.
Her head reeled with the power of the demon within, and she staggered as Rick's body slipped from the point of her sword and crumpled to the floor--his blood vanishing from the shining silver blade as if it had absorbed every last drop. Horrified, she jammed it back into its sheath and locked it in place, throwing up every mental shield that she could summon as she tried to force the echo of Azazel's laughter from her mind.
She didn't remember picking up her jacket, or the leather bag as she stumbled from the cabin, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in the pristine white snow. Nor was she conscious of sending any messages as she stumbled from the cabin. Only that she was clutching them to her body along with the demonic, elven sword as hungry flames of sorcery consumed the entire building, and Rick's body along with it. She could only hope that he would have better luck in his next life, if there was such a thing as reincarnation for the human soul. Either way, he was free of the Yellow-eyed demon now. It was more than she could say for herself.
Help me.