Dylan-Nantes regarded his knife with some pleasure, admiring it for having been able to pull off what he half-regarded as a magical feat. After he stepped through the window into a dark and empty room, he kept this magical instrument drawn and began to explore.
The interior of this large home was completely dark, with only the dimmest traces of light peaking in from outside. He could hear nothing except the occasional distant sound of a person passing by on the street outside and the gentle swaying of the wind. He crept up the wooden staircase, and each step squeaked under his pressure as he ascended. He randomly decided to follow the hallway to the right at the top of the stairs and when he reached the first door he opened it slowly. Its hinges squeaked and he had to move the door slowly. Inside the room he saw a large and luxurious bed with a red quilt spread over the top. Beneath the quilt two long person-mounds were visible, the two heads buried in the feather pillows and breathing slowly. He turned away. He would prefer to enter a room in which only a single person were present.
There were several other doors in the hallway, which either didn’t lead to rooms or were empty. When he reached the next occupied bedroom he found a somewhat smaller room with a teenage girl wrapped beneath sumptuous sheets and breathing the slow breath of sleep. He entered the room silently and closed the door behind him.
As he approached her, he noticed a piece of turquoise hung around her neck upon a chain. The stone was a piece of the sky meant to keep her close to god, to protect her from Death. “It’s not working,” he thought to himself with a smile. Then he realized, “No, that’s not quite true. After I kill her, Anan, from heaven, will still be able to save this girl from Death,” recalling what he knew of the theology of the Omnians and the Aresan Clan, “When her body is meat, God will reach down his hand and lead that part of her is still not dead into heaven. Or so they believe.”
To restrain her and keep her from moving, he laid his entire body on top of her, putting his two legs on either side of her legs and pinching them together while he planted his elbows on either side of her arms. The girl immediately woke, and he planted one hand firmly on her mouth and with his other he held his knife to her neck. She could smell the filthy hand that was on her mouth, redolent of soil and blood, even taste it on her lips. “Silence,” he whispered to her in Omnian, with his thick accent, “Or die.”
The girl looked up at him with wide panicked eyes. From so close up, Dylan-Nante could see the lustrous green of those eyes composed of many flecks of color; he could see the short lines of yellow color extending outward from the now large black pupil in the center like the corona of the sun. And while he watched those eyes, he pushed the edge of the knife into her neck and cut a furrow through her skin. Her whole body squirmed: her legs tried to kick, her hands to free themselves, and her mouth to scream. But he held her in place and watched the panic growing in her eyes—the pupils growing even wider and the color disappearing from them. The blood squirted from her neck in spurts and poured down onto her sheets, and she grew weaker, her muffled screams less forceful, her kicks losing their power. Finally, her body began to relax: her legs no longer kicked; her scream faded into silence; and her eyes, previously fixed upon him, slid to the side without the motive force to hold them in place.
Dylan-Nantes stood up this point and again admired his knife with fascination, his own totem of divine power. “Don’t worry, Anan will save you from Death,” Dylan-Nantes whispered, as some sort of prayer over her dead body, “He’ll save you from becoming another member of the armies of Death, or whatever it is you people here believe.”
He then took the necklace as a souvenir and turned around and quietly snuck out of the house the way he came in.
<-- Go to
Part 76 Go to
Part 78 -->
You can see what's been written so far collected
here.
Dylan-Nantes regarded his knife with some pleasure, admiring it for having been able to pull off what he half-regarded as a magical feat. After he stepped through the window into a dark and empty room, he kept this magical instrument drawn and began to explore.
The interior of this large home was completely dark, with only the dimmest traces of light peaking in from outside. He could hear nothing except the occasional distant sound of a person passing by on the street outside and the gentle swaying of the wind. He crept up the wooden staircase, and each step squeaked under his pressure as he ascended. He randomly decided to follow the hallway to the right at the top of the stairs and when he reached the first door he opened it slowly. Its hinges squeaked and he had to move the door slowly. Inside the room he saw a large and luxurious bed with a red quilt spread over the top. Beneath the quilt two long person-mounds were visible, the two heads buried in the feather pillows and breathing slowly. He turned away. He would prefer to enter a room in which only a single person were present.
There were several other doors in the hallway, which either didn’t lead to rooms or were empty. When he reached the next occupied bedroom he found a somewhat smaller room with a teenage girl wrapped beneath sumptuous sheets and breathing the slow breath of sleep. He entered the room silently and closed the door behind him.
As he approached her, he noticed a piece of turquoise hung around her neck upon a chain. The stone was a piece of the sky meant to keep her close to god, to protect her from Death. “It’s not working,” he thought to himself with a smile. Then he realized, “No, that’s not quite true. After I kill her, Anan, from heaven, will still be able to save this girl from Death,” recalling what he knew of the theology of the Omnians and the Aresan Clan, “When her body is meat, God will reach down his hand and lead that part of her is still not dead into heaven. Or so they believe.”
To restrain her and keep her from moving, he laid his entire body on top of her, putting his two legs on either side of her legs and pinching them together while he planted his elbows on either side of her arms. The girl immediately woke, and he planted one hand firmly on her mouth and with his other he held his knife to her neck. She could smell the filthy hand that was on her mouth, redolent of soil and blood, even taste it on her lips. “Silence,” he whispered to her in Omnian, with his thick accent, “Or die.”
The girl looked up at him with wide panicked eyes. From so close up, Dylan-Nante could see the lustrous green of those eyes composed of many flecks of color; he could see the short lines of yellow color extending outward from the now large black pupil in the center like the corona of the sun. And while he watched those eyes, he pushed the edge of the knife into her neck and cut a furrow through her skin. Her whole body squirmed: her legs tried to kick, her hands to free themselves, and her mouth to scream. But he held her in place and watched the panic growing in her eyes—the pupils growing even wider and the color disappearing from them. The blood squirted from her neck in spurts and poured down onto her sheets, and she grew weaker, her muffled screams less forceful, her kicks losing their power. Finally, her body began to relax: her legs no longer kicked; her scream faded into silence; and her eyes, previously fixed upon him, slid to the side without the motive force to hold them in place.
Dylan-Nantes stood up this point and again admired his knife with fascination, his own totem of divine power. “Don’t worry, Anan will save you from Death,” Dylan-Nantes whispered, as some sort of prayer over her dead body, “He’ll save you from becoming another member of the armies of Death, or whatever it is you people here believe.”
He then took the necklace as a souvenir and turned around and quietly snuck out of the house the way he came in.
<-- Go to
Part 76 Go to
Part 78 -->
You can see what's been written so far collected
here.
Aresan Clan pt 77
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