Damaia (![]() ![]() @ 2009-01-02 01:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | baba yaga, madame xanadu |
Let the fun start...
Xanadu started to wake only vaguely aware that her body ached and her neck felt as though she'd slept on it wrong. As she stirred, the soothsayer realized she'd been sitting and in trying to move her hands and feet, discovered the restrains.
She woke up.
Her palm was still cut and her face felt swollen from when she'd been telekinetically tossed into one of the shelves that lined the wall of her shop. At first there was no way for her to know where she was. Xanadu panicked.
"Good morning, sunshine." Xanadu had slept for quite a while. It was the problem of having some of her life force drawn from her, just a few years; would she really miss them? Being Fable was certainly helpful in that she was healing quicker than damned Mundy types, but she had a good bit to make up for. Her surroundings were helping.
"Now, your shop is closed up; it's cleaned up too, amazingly. Everything looks normal. Well, almost everything. It seems that the proprietor is missing for now." Baba settled in a chair, sighing. It was so unfortunate that the woman couldn't see anything; Baba liked it when her victims could see what was happening. Of course, there was something to be said about not seeing what might be coming.
Xanadu sounded defeated: "What do you want?"
"I want to know what this place is all about. Not your shop; it's nothing more than twinkling lights and incense. No, the world it's in. I want to know about this place. And, you might be the best way to get to know it." She slid off her chair and was soon settling in a straddle of the seer. "You're going to give me answers."
"It's The City." Xanadu's unhappiness was obvious. If only she were being held for information the seer would have freely given. Then she might have had a chance. She deeply suspected there was something more, that Baba's purpose to be much more severe. "It brought you here. It brought us all here. Its reasons are its own."
Baba's hands rested on either side of Xanadu's face, before her fingers played slowly up into the thick dark hair. Her lips were so very close to her captive's cheek.
"Oh, sweetheart, darling little Xanadu. If I wanted to know that, I could ask one of those little people that are tainted with this place. One of those simpletons who don't know any better, but I want to know the power it holds. Can't you feel it?" The tip of that pert little nose ran along Xanadu's jaw. "Can't you taste it?" Just a nip at the seer's ear.
"No." Xanadu's head snapped out of the way when she felt teeth. Her neck instantly regretted it, the dull throb turning to an intensely sharp pain.
"But, this I don't understand. You have it in you to feel it, to want it. To touch it. Don't you remember how it feels? Have you lost it, forgotten it?" The hands in Xanadu's hair gave a good yank to tilt the woman's head back. The glasses that kept Xanadu's one marring feature had been left upstairs. Baba didn't mind this ugliness; in fact, she relished it. Even a creature this beautiful was ugly somehow.
"Tell me who you are."
The seer cried out when she felt the sudden pull on her hair. Her scalp screamed at her and the pain in her neck became fresh once again. She spoke slowly and clearly: "Madame Xanadu; The Madame of Xanadu."
"Liar." Baba's fingers continued to play through Xanadu's hair, tugging at times, using it to tilt her head this way and that. There was a slow lick along Xanadu's jaw; the hold on her hair wouldn't let her move too much.
"You are not what you seem. I should know."
"Few people are."
"Let me see; what can I do to you? I don't want to beat you, not yet. I'd rather we enjoy ourselves, but if you're so determined to not..." Baba leaned back, putting her hands back on Xanadu's knees for support. "I suppose I could hurt you. I've heard there is a torture of a thousand cuts. I don't know if I could get to one hundred before I'd have you bled, but we could try that."
"You don't want my name. What do you want?" Xanadu began to rub her wrists raw as she twisted them within their bonds.
"I do want your name, child." Baba's hands left Xanadu's hair, dropping to the seer's shoulders. It didn't take much focus to shift them from the soft young hands of Red to the clawed monstrosities of the crone, nails dug into those sweet shoulders.
"I want who you are. I could rip your skin free, one piece at a time, keep you alive, and then heal you...only to do it all again tomorrow. I could give you eyes again, so that you could see the beasts I'd bring in to watch as they have their way with you. I could do so many things, but all you need to do is give me your name. It will save you so much pain." The nails dug deeper, rending fabric and flesh.
Xanadu cried out, trying to mute her pain with breathing; inhale, exhale. The air entered her lungs as sharply as it left.
"Most people only ask for three things when they come to me for help; money, love and health. All my answers, no matter how deeply I look, can be boiled down into three essential truths--"
Baba just stared down at the woman, her fingers curling into the flesh, as if she were digging deeper and deeper.
"The money will come--"
The claws were pulled free, only to start digging in another spot. Baba would let Xanadu talk; sometimes it was better to let them spend themselves. Run out of the wrote arguments and sarcasm before honing in, before really working for the truth.
"Love comes to those who wait--"
By now, Xanadu might believe those claw like fingers were touching. As if they'd bored themselves into flesh, all the way through so that finger tip might touch finger tip.
"Everyone dies--"
Just a hint of pulling, lifting her from the back of the seat just a bit by that hold.
"You're amusing me. You have surely found the meaning to all questions. Now, where does your name fall in that?"
The claws retracted, and Xanadu was allowed to drop back to the chair. Baba's weight was gone because she'd stepped away from the poor seer. The poor, slightly battered seer.
"My name..." Xanadu trembled from not just the pain, but the fear of what was to come. "...is Madame Xanadu; oracle to powerful emperors, kings and queens."
Closing her eyes tight Xanadu focused on breathing; slowly out, slowly in.
"Oracle to powerful emperors, kings, and queens." Baba laughed; it was an awful possibly gut wrenching laugh. She didn't believe it. "Oracles are the best con artists. They're almost as good as the little old ladies who help the lost children find their way home."
A hand claimed the seer's throat, just a hint of nails. The skin was old, wrinkled. Another hand rested over the seer's heart, and there was a definite pull on Xanadu's being.
"I could take you to the very edge of death, and let you hang."
The seer gasped, feeling energy pulled from her. The exhaustion that followed was immediate. "I'm sure you could."
"How long could you last there?" Baba drained the seer just a little more, just a little. "How long could you dangle before all you wanted to do was drop?"