Thread: Of Desire

Through each passionate action, through each spoken word of love and lust, Anastaysia was lost. Dead. Unknowing of what had just occured, or what would become of her. The end result, of crimson splashed upon her tongue, and tickling down her throat, had sparked a great reaction. Something none would have ever expected to come of their great entertainer. The body lifted, limp upon strong arms, and bared open for all to see, drew a startled scream from Katriana, a fellow Acrobat and friend of Anastaysia, one whose voice had pierced through those thin walls calling to the sweet, young woman. Her scream came loud, shattering and full of sorrow, for she knew, without second glance, the limpness of young Anas body was the result of death. That piercing scream alerting a frustrated ringmaster, who arrived all too late, only to catch his fainting mistress. The deceased woman, left to the whims of her murderer. It started then a small twitch of the finger, a jump of the heart. Another twitch coursing through the body and a sudden blinding pain searing through her. The embracing, calming silence of death shattering, the darkness turning into a blinding, painful light. sound numb, and dull echoing in the back of her head, rattling against the pain coursing through her body as her lungs struggled for breath, their attempts to expand not quite successful. Her heart slowly begin to beat, a hand rising, unconsciously to clutch at the back of her carriers shirt, sharp nails digging in against the fabric and the hard flesh beneath it. Her body shuddering, gasping as the first intake of breath tore through her. It pained her to breath, and so she stilled her lungs. Eyes still unfocused, unblinking, as the body slowly returned to life, or some form of it. Finally she closed her eyes, body stiffening, lashes flush against her cheeks as she tried to remember.. as she tried to think, to make something out of the nothingness screaming in the back of her mind. She lifted her head, opening her eyes and watching the world spin. It's unfocused haze swirling. Her arm lifted, hand rose to clutch at his shoulder much as the other had done at his back. She looked up at his face, the beauty familiar... yet a horror.. a fear lingered as she gazed upon him. Memories still scrambled, nothing made sense, and she just placed her cheek against his shoulder and clutched to him, clinging as she gritted her teeth and cried out in agonizing pain. The attentions of the cirque behind them. Katriana and the Ringmaster, unawares of what had become of their precious Ana. That searing pain coursed through her veins, and she struggled against it, against it and the dull throbbing ache between her thighs. Why did she hurt? Why did it hurt? Her mind sifted through thought after thought. Nothing made sense.. nothing except the small whisper in the back of her mind. Konstantin.. She whispered, her voice still devoid of warmth, of life. It was hollow, breathless, and hissed. Konstantin... She questioned again. Trying to make sense of what was happening. Memories began to settle in, that searing pain began to fade into a ravenous hunger. Her fingertips release his shoulder, slowly sliding up along his neck, to cup the cheek of the beautiful face she had gazed upon moments before unsteadily. She remembered.... she remembered looking in the mirror.. and seeing only her startled reflection, she remembered being unable to breath.. the pain, the struggle. She remembered falling.. tasting the earth, and seeing his beautiful face. She remembered his hands around her neck, and the death he had brought her.. but now.. now she remembered death.. and awoke to life... so nothing made sense, nothing but the familiarity of that haunting face, an the name that went with it. Her palm grazed down along his cheek, and jaw, to brace at the nape of his neck and shoulder. Trusting him to hold her, as she faded in and out of consciousness. Reality slowly sinking in, with that hunger every growing, gnawing at her insides. She nudged her face into his chest, and breathed in deeply of his scent, instinctually knowing to trust the one, who smelled of the most delicious death she had ever smelled.