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Famine Fever Read 16441 times

Ara

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Re: Famine Fever
« Reply #180 on: April 29, 2014, 12:49:35 pm »
He said that Nina had tasted like honey. Her mouth twitched with the start of a frown because it reminded her that she would never know. Her head turned to look up at him when he said he’d lost his eyes and taken new ones. They looked the same to her, shiny suns behind lashes. The idea of popping them out of their sockets had not occurred to her until she found out another had done it. He really did have a marvelous ability to heal.

“Were you born a cat or a boy?” She asked then, curious because she was very certain she could not grow new eyes if someone ate hers. She could buy new eyes and have the best surgeon put them in. She could make miracles happen, mountains move and men fall but it was a gift left to her by money and a lack of empathy or reason.

It made her laugh when he said he would not like to eat the officers. It seemed a strange place to put such a line when he had no qualms eating the members of his own pride. She imagined him tearing apart loyal lionesses now. They might catch his meals and bare his children, but there was no illusion of safety around Ellian, not even if you were useful. She understood this and felt comfortable with that truth. Marcy was comfortable with most truths no matter how ugly.

He grabbed at her body and she found herself on his back, arms curling around his shoulders from behind. She had seen children do this with fathers. “The car may not work anymore.” She admitted. It may also be surrounded by police and street workers. One arm unhooked from her hold on him to stretch in front of him when they’d leapt over the wall. She pointed out another street, busy with cars and people. “Over there, love. We can find a new one.”

She leaned her face into the back of his neck. He smelt like blood and sweat and grass. He smelt like a breeze on a battlefield. “I’m a member of a club- well, many clubs-” She giggled. “it’s close by and they have many drinking options.” She smiled wide. It was a country club of sorts but designed by like minded people to those that designed her apartment complex. It was calm most of the time, but it catered to the monsters of the world. “We can get you fresh clothing and all the water you want.” She tempted.

If he put her down as she suggested she would hail them a cab.

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Re: Famine Fever
« Reply #181 on: April 29, 2014, 09:49:54 pm »
What a marvelously intricate answer he would have to give to that question. The thing that he was now, composed, was either born of all the significant creatures he had eaten - lion torso and heat halo, monkey eyes and bird heart - or he was indeed that boy dripping with his mother's mucus and innard-juices, held up by the tribe ritualist to receive his father's howl of acceptance. Though the lion had been part of his story that started back then, it had not show itself yet. He should answer her question fairly.

"I was born a human." he admitted and considered it. It was as true as it was false. A great betrayal to the lion and yet the only reply she would really accept. His mother had not given him to the world as cub without a mane. She was not a lion. Ellian thought that Marcy might like the details of the story he could tell from the lion's birth, when two things that were not lions came together to make the immortal pride, but he would save that for another time. If she asked the right question she would know, if the mood struck him she would know.

His heart sank at the thought of not being able to ride the animal they had come here in. It had been comfortable and warm. Ellian did not like to be caged, but found that really small spaces, such a true boxes calmed him outwardly. The vehicle Fenton had driven had that effect to some degree. Marcy, a good passenger despite her hungry mouth, soon offered something else in return. "That's even better!" he exclaimed and followed the direction of her finger. A new traveling box. How decadent. And she had called him Love.

"A club?" he asked, further engaged to this new plan as he set her down. "Water does mean other beasts." He didn't know how right he was. It was simply a fact he'd followed most of his life. Not a lurker like the crocodile, he still knew how to take advantage of a place of gathering. Most things are compromised by their need for lubrication. Ellian had been too. People made it less exploitable by sending one to bring water to the many. Few other animals use vessels to carry their water. He'd wondered if that was why mothers carried milk inside their bodyies for their young, to eliminate one more circumstance that might kill their offspring. The world did seem to favor the children.

"I would like to be in a club." he said as he sat by her feet and looked at the passing mounts. He felt rather endeared to her now, shoulder to her leg as the wind of the rushing traffic fluttered Fenton's shirt. Marcy took him places. Perhaps this was her task, to provide him with good things. He would keep such a creature around until the theory of her flesh became too delicious. A yellow something came up to them, courting her attention. Marcy complied and Ellian was fast to jump in.

He thought the gentleman smelt of hormones as they started moving. "He would like to mate with you." he whispered to Marcy. "Do you think he will get us to your club faster if you have his children?" It wasn't an unheard of trade. Underneath the roof that he had claimed there was sometimes a lady that smelt of the seed of male humans. He'd heard her speak of transactions. The males that returned her had a certain fatigue in their voices as though they had bodily power, but were drained of their minds and other efforts.

Ara

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Re: Famine Fever
« Reply #182 on: April 30, 2014, 12:15:28 pm »
Marcy got into the cab with the lion and told the man behind the dingy plexiglass divider where to take them. Ellian seemed in a better mood all around and it caused her to join him. It had never been difficult for Marcy to change gears, especially if it was toward smiling. She loved to smile.

When he commented on the cabdriver she laughed outright. She continued to laugh when he suggested she have the man’s children so they could drive faster. By the time she could stifle some of her mirth she was thumbing tears from her eyes. “Oh, love, children don’t make human men move faster unless it’s to get away from them or perhaps save them. The promise of sex without children might work but more than likely it would just distract him.” She lifted her hip and fished out a bill.

She held it up, knowing that the driver was watching them in the rear view mirror at this point. “A hundred if you can get us there in less than five minutes.” She tempted with a smile, glee still in her eyes. Her back pressed tighter into the abused cushions when he pressed the gas and ran and red light. The driver’s attention was dedicated to the road then, weaving through other cars and cutting turns dangerously close.

Marcy giggled in delight and bit her lower lip. “More effect for less effort.” She explained before looking at Ellian was new interest. “Born human, you say? So did you become a flesh eater later? Was it a gift?”

The tires skidded to a stop and she glanced out the window at the dull neighborhood. She smiled and passed the hundred through the hole in the plexiglass before getting out. The street was sad looking. No grand buildings or luxury shops. No dingy bars or seedy clubs in sight. Just a few office buildings, a sandwich shop, a cafe and a little store with magazines and cigarettes.

She would lead Ellian into the cafe. Bright lights and cheerful staff. Their smiles withered into the nervous twitching of lips when they saw her and the odd company she kept but the man that sat at the back with his coffee and paper would stand and open a door. It wasn’t so offensively bright inside the staircase that lead underground. The door would close behind them and when they reached the bottom they would be standing in the lobby of an expensive looking restaurant with high ceilings and large rooms.

A man in a vest would be waiting to greet them. He would know Marcy by name because that was his job and ask if she and her guest would like a table for brunch or if they’d prefer something more private. The club house was a network of underground rooms. They offered just about everything anyone could imagine. There was a shooting range where you could either use paper targets or bring your own fleshy ones. A number of vampires enjoyed this place and kept a bar just for their own kind. It had no light and was stocked with people the world had forgotten, lost and searching blind for a door.

Marcy thought it was a strange sort of thrill the blood drinkers got from catching prey that had no chance of escape. It was much like feeding rabbits to snakes in a terrarium.

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Re: Famine Fever
« Reply #183 on: April 30, 2014, 11:58:05 pm »
Ellian was familiar with the lack of attachment some men harbored for their children. How odd that such commitment was missing amongst individuals of one race. He knew of creatures that fathered and left, but they were consistent. The fish were particularly adverse to romance, even though some of them were very committed to making the spawn themselves. "Mating is fun." he agreed, so that he would stay in the conversation. All creatures that weren't broken adhered to the act, even they were not so attached to the consequence of more life.

The eager of the man in front had the cat tense. He'd seen upholstery tumble around him once today, already. The rush of things now was more linear. It was appreciated. Ellian could easily adjust the center of his weight to flow with the sudden speed. People did change themselves for bills. Ellian didn't know what kind of reflexes this man had, but it would probably be faulty to assume he had enough to react well if any of the waiting metal boxes by the crossing asphalt were to challenge him.

Well settled in to this new velocity, he looked at her again. She was gleeful, happy. A new question. He thought of that first flavor of his new life. "The things that founded this world still exist in the oldest places." he started and saw the anemic desert and the hectic colors of the jungle. There was a real smile on his face when his visited the most important scene he knew. "I was a little like I am now, a naked monkey, worshiping a beautiful pride of undying lions."

He walked out with her and recorded the surroundings. "And then I did what we do. I ate the male lion. I choked on his mane and cut my tongue on his claws." It was a fact to him. He couldn't linger on the sensations that were wrought by the tide of nostalgia. He'd disappear. "If you absorb immortality fully, you become half of it, and half of it becomes you." The greeting people secreted a fermone that encouraged him to eat them. Fear. But not of him, not directly. "You're infamous here, Marcy."

The scent that came to him underneath the earth where he was taken was quite taunting. His eyes were wider, his muscles twitching as he started to move around the corridors, back and forth because he didn't mean to leave her. I smelt coagulated blood and fresh bone. he smelt the tears of children and mothers, separated by thin walls and he could hear the abuse of gunpowder and their targets, catching metal and muffling those flights with their torsos.

"Show me the sport of man!" he called, elated as he looked at her. He smiled in that way that compromised his face without opening his lips. There was a man that offered them things. "You can have someone run for us!" he said and swatted the man across the arm, leaving shreds of his jacket and shirt, and gashes on his arm. The man fought the impulse to stagger back and lost. He still held his composure well, Ellian had to admit. The cat stood by Marcy's side, tilting his head to look at the helper.

"You can make him dance, can't you? I doesn't have to be him." Ellian said with his normal tone of conversation. It was of course meant for the other to hear. "I'll show you great games." he promised her as he pushed his cheek against her shoulder. "You are a lovely woman." he injected and nodded, face still on her. "You're a hunter too, Marcy." he reminded. "Not a stalker, perhaps," he didn't know if she had such patience, or even intent. "But someone who hunts, clearly. Let's find something for us to chase."

Memphis squinted at the light as he was pushed out of his cell. There were no windows down here. His face was swollen as it hit the floor. They'd not abused him physically for quite a while. Mostly because he was complacent now. They kept him drunk and happy, even though he'd not liked alcohol before this incarceration. Now he couldn't live without it. "There might be someone who requires you soon, Memphis." The guard in red said. Memphis shook his head. It hurt to be sober, these days.

"What? Why? Who?" he said as clearly as he could.

"Oh, I've been dying to tell you." the guard replied as Memphis was shoved forward. "It's because of your fatty liver, my friend."

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Re: Famine Fever
« Reply #184 on: May 01, 2014, 04:40:30 pm »
She was tugging her gloves off by the fingertips when Ellian slashed at the man’s arm. She giggled. It wasn’t polite but in this place manners were no different than camouflage and poison, useful but deceptive. She found his story of eating the immortal lion interesting. It was probably literal, given what she’d learned of Ellian. “Where does one find an immortal thing?” Marcy asked casually, flicking her hand in the bleeding man’s direction dismissively. “Find him someone that can put up a fight, would you? No point giving a lion a dove to eat.”

She curled an arm through Ellian’s, leaning into him and tugging him in another direction. “Let’s get you that drink while they find us a few choices.” She dropped her gloves on the floor and forgot them the way she forgot all things dropped on floors. She would lead him toward the large polished wood bar that occupied a corner of a great room of leather booths and textured walls. The floor was made of large dark grey stone tiles. They had found over the years that it was easier to clean stone than it was to replace carpet or scrub blood from hardwood. “I’ve eaten a number of flesh eater livers and I don’t think I’ve taken up any of this immortality. I suppose one needs to eat one of these first immortals?”

She smiled at the bartender and he put a glass in front of her quickly. It had ice and a wedge of lime and a little black straw. She wondered then if she came here so often that they remembered what she wanted or if she had made such an impression that they did not forget? She gave them an awful lot of money. She supposed that bought her the pretense of familiarity and loyalty. He looked at Ellian, waiting for an order. “Milk or water, love?” She would ask if he didn’t give instructions quickly.

Further into the room, Lathon was looking at an unpleasant hand of cards. No one would know it by the look of her face. Youth drawn out over long limbs, lean in all ways and made older by the etchings of tattoos that covered her right arm from knuckles to shoulder and the stub of a cigarette there between her fingers, brought to lips to take a deep breath before she blew smoke into the air.

It hung there like a cloud over their table of cards. No chips. No cash. No pot of winnings at all. Just smoke and cards and felt tabletop. Gambling was a vice that Lathon favored over all others. She loved chance and she loved winning but most of all, she loved when someone else lost. All the wealth she had she had made this way. Small games when she was young. Betting on sports and dog fights. Then mahjong and black jack. They said she belonged to a bookie, taken as payment when she was a kid from her deadbeat father. Lathon never corrected rumors, they were almost as useful as cash.

The games at this place had been considered a rumor until she saw it for herself.

Her hand was no good. Luck of the draw. But there was no folding here. This was the sort of place where luck was the game of chance and strategy would only sully that. She took another deep drag from her cigarette, possibly her last, and then laid down her cards with that same hand, a trail of smoke following and the ashes burning into her fingers. No pairs. No nothing. Just a queen and a bunch of long numbers staring back at them.

She was reaching for her drink on the table with her clean hand, the one not covered in ink, when she noticed the wrinkles in the face of the man she was playing wobble. Sweat dewed on his temple and his fingers creased the card he still held. Her long mouth curled at one corner. His hand was even worse than hers. She took a drink, sighed, snubbed out her cigarette on the table and pushed a strand of stark red hair back behind her ear.

The man in the suit tried to gather himself, laughing even in a fit of delight. “You’ve lost!” He exclaimed for all to hear but she was watching the way he still clutched his cards. His hand shook and he put them face down, as though anyone would take his word.

That was when she shot him. She pulled the gun from her thigh, strapped over skinny jeans, and shot him in the head. He and his chair fell back with a hard thud and the guard near the table looked at her harshly, drawing his own weapon. She reached across the table and flipped over the dead man’s cards. Ten high. Not a single pair or face card. His bank accounts and properties would be transfered to her, her information on file here.

Lathon leaned back in her seat and took a deep, satisfied breath.

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Re: Famine Fever
« Reply #185 on: May 01, 2014, 09:49:23 pm »
Ellian still had his eyes for the man who quickly tried to obey Marcy. He did not want to stay after all, and he'd sooner find another to sacrifice, someone who wasn't a dove, than be brought to slaughter himself. It was a human trait that made them very attractive for the killing, whether it be for their weakness or their lack of loyalty to each other. Ellian could revel in slaying men like that. Eating that flesh was as much of a delicacy as it was punishment. Such complete lack of courage spoils the meat.

"Immortal animals are of two groups. Source and Treasure." He smiled at the idea, watching the man run, holding his arm. And she was right to some degree, when she guessed on how to become an immortal. "Not all life that is taken can be added to your own, Marcy." he said as he laughed in delight at a world where every meal assured your ever lasting existence. "You can usually only become immortal by eating a Source, like I did. Sources aren't always clean, but they give immortality for a few generations of being eaten." He knew this story well from the tribe. "Treasures are immortal who have been given forever as a gift without the ability to pass it on. They're not as sought after for sport, since their flesh isn't potent in the same way, but usually hold some political position. Their immortality in turn tends to be more prominent than that of Sources, who have obvious flaws in their healing rate."

He looked at her drink then, and quickly sat down on the stool. "Oh, what a lovely man you are." he said to the serving person before he gestured with his hand. "A large bowl of milk, please. If you can, please serve it warm, if you're lovely." For a moment he straightened his back to imitate Marcy's posture, hopeful it would endear him to the bartender, and through that further assure him his order would be taken. The man looked at Ellian who was a man who had strange ears pointing up from his hair and sunlit eyes, and this still did not conjure as much fear as when he looked at Marcy.

"It is a rather strange process to obtaining immortality even when you've come over the flesh itself." Ellian said as he watched the bartender pick up the phone. "You have to eat the mouth first, the tongue, to absorb its properties. And then you eat the throat. Start with the digestive system and then you can eat the rest. If you eat the arms first, you will not fully get their power, because your body isn't made for immortal meat." The man heard all of this, and seemed more alarmed when he hung up. Very shortly a cart rattled as a boy hurried to push the metal structure on rubber wheels over the stone to Ellian. The bowl on there was large, glass, and he could smell that it was indeed warm.

He jumped up on the cart, which was rather sizable, and squatted down, agile as his kin, knees by his head as he wrapped his arms around the pearly treasure. "This place is very accommodating." he concluded before he speared the surface with his tongue, looking around while drinking. Eventually he returned his attention to Marcy. "Are they your pride? Are you their male?" he asked. "If I hunt you, and I am successful, will they extend all your courtesies to me?" It was very attractive. He wasn't sure he could do it to Marcy at this moment, though. She'd been so gracious so far.

Memphis rubbed his belly and sighed. His throat whistled in desperate breath. He felt cold. It wasn't as though this situation wasn't frightening, but the monotony of being take care of and kept constantly drunk had seduced him into a strange calm. Now they were breaking this rhythm, and it terrified him despite the slight buzz he was enjoying. "M-my liver?" he asked, his yellowed skin getting paler. Two large guards dressed in midnight blue dragged him along by his arms. He didn't fight, but his feet didn't lift either.

"This is for you, Ms  Devenmore." the bartender said, and extended a file of papers on the bar for her to take. It would be the medical records of a Mr. M. Smith. His liver values were off the charts, of course, and the medical report was followed by an affectionate number of cards, thanking her for her business and providing her with different suggestion she might enjoy this meal, whether it be as a three course dinner, or a hunt. They simply wanted her to know she had the option, and that they valued her.

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Re: Famine Fever
« Reply #186 on: May 02, 2014, 06:14:09 pm »
Marcy listened carefully to his words about immortality. It sounded elusive and difficult to attain. It also involved eating a lot more pieces than she ever did. She remembered her mother’s fingers in her throat, forcing her to vomit up the scone she’d eaten under the table. She had been so terribly hungry but mother had been certain, such nice food was not for her. Mother had been right and over time, she’d finally found the food that was for her.

She sipped the club soda through the thin straw, smiling when Ellian sat straighter. He was beautifully inhuman. She wished she was like him, secretly, in the depths of her thoughts. She wished she was an animal rather than man. She wished she could wrap herself in pretty things like immortality and timeless age.

Though she did not doubt what Ellian said, she did not believe his immortality was immortal. Was any immortal really that? The vampires were not. The soul eater and essence eater were not. And the lion. The lion had eaten his own kind, disproving the strength of their immortality in proving his own.

She looked when the cart came with his milk. They were good at their work here. She looked at Ellian is surprise when he asked if they were her pride. Her mouth spread with a fine smile. “I thought you were my pride.” She said to the cat and then giggled. “This is a human place, for human nature in all its forms and rebirths.” She explained a little blandly, taking another sip of her drink. “They prize money. And in giving me courtesies they get my money. Since you are my friend, you get these courtesies too.”

She was more than a little charmed by the notion of being the male of her pride and the occupants of this building being hers. It would have been a lie to say they were though. She was a regular patron, impressive considering the lifestyle she led. It was only a matter of time before something ate her or someone finally strapped her to a chair with electrical current and an audience.

A gunshot deep in the room took her eye. She snickered at that tattooed woman over the poker table before the bartender called for her attention. Marcy raised eyebrows and looked over her dainty glass at the folder. “Oh?” She asked when he gave it to her. Her first thought was a bill of some kind or maybe something left for her by another member. Curious fingers lifted the edge of the file and let it fall back. She leaned closer to look at the medical records. She put her glass down and picked up some of the cards, flipping through them with growing glee. She squealed when she couldn’t take it anymore. “Bring him out!” She cried, beside herself with delight.

She did so love a present. She was holding the cards affectionately to her chest and swiveled around in her seat to see the man with the torn sleeve returning to them in a new jacket. He was smiling, but looking wearily in Ellian’s direction. “Your gift will be here shortly, madam. We have also found a number of choice selections for your friend.” He knew better than to ask for a name. “Would he like to see them here or in a sporting hall?”

“Oh, bring them here. I think we’d rather hunt them free range through the club than have them cooped up in one room.” She looked at Ellian for any sign of disagreement.

“Marvelous.” The man said, resisting the urge to touch his newly wrapped arm. He signaled someone in the hallway out of sight who pushed three people into the room. They were cuffed and he was handed a set of folders. They were criminals. The kind no one would miss and that just might give their new guest a good game.

Lathon had been heading out when she couldn’t help but notice Ms. Devenmore’s delighted and high pitched sounds. She slowed her approach when she noticed the man she had for company, not one she’d seen her with before. He didn’t look... human. The concierge came in, looking a little more pale than usual. Lathon took a seat at the bar, a little more than arms length from the stranger drinking from the milk bowl. A hunt? “Are you playing a game?” She asked.

Marcy looked back at her, surprised and then frowned. “No one is paying you.” She said sharply.

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Re: Famine Fever
« Reply #187 on: May 03, 2014, 04:08:20 pm »
He had been wondering if this collection of serving people had been her pride before their new grouping. the case was not that according to Marcy. Ellian sometimes liked to engage in understanding the human animal he used to be, but even that person would have been out of place in the vampire's jungle and Marcy's underground. His thoughts were eventually occupied by the explanation of her actual relationship to this place and its people.

"I like extended courtesies." he said with a milk lined smile. She had many of them. Money, she said, and he was inclined to believe. But she had not traded currency for the fear he could feel wafting through the souls of the men and women she commanded. Fenton aside, the ones that recognized her would shy away if they could. He'd been a predator long enough to know who was the runner in a relationship, and who was the eater. Surely it was an askew relationship to make prey of your own, but far from unheard of.

While she said she wasn't someone of political power, they brought her a gift she approved of. Ellian had known lesser cats petition for his attention the same way. Was this tender contending for her affections, he wondered. The cat lapped hard at the milk as he narrowed bright eyes at the man while Marcy expressed quite some delight over whatever the papers said. Such things could hold money and lives, he'd learned. The instances that supported this kind of ownership that was cemented by arcs of bleached pages usually ended where savagery started. People could usually just humor themselves.

The man he'd injured before came back with offerings to him as well. Ellian jumped from the cart to the top of the bar to flip through his own folders, bringing the bowl and leaving a down turned construction of metal in his wake. A proud smile lived on half his face as he peered down at the images. He was also someone they wanted to please. The images were colorless, and only of men. They did seem as though they might provide a good chase, or event attempt fighting, judging by their prominent foreheads. He was mid lick while he was assessing the trio they presented to him when another creature joined.

Memphis tried calming his pulse as he was dragged. A few times during his transportation he had pulled at the arms encircling his. Being fed and hydrated for so long had not done wonders to his muscle growth or respiratory system. He did not fight well. The guards did not even humor him by physically adressing his efforts. The containment facility floor had been changed for something finer, something well kept beyond that of a hygienic, minimalistic facility. The atmosphere was warmer here. It didn't comfort him. Eventually they came to a rather lavish area, and the first thing he noticed was the tattooed woman, because she seemed the most human in here. There was a man squatting on the bar and there was a woman in front of which he was made to kneel.

Ellian had turned to the woman who was not payed. Something new in here then, outside of Marcy's control. "I want you." he said and gestured to the prey they'd brought him. This cat was fast to spoil, fast to demand more. "You stand with them! I can hunt you." He smiled widely as he continued to drink from the bowl that he was now holding with only one of his arms. He wasn't really liking the way it was cooling. "I like the way you've spiced your skin." he complimented before scooting over to sit on the bar, but closer to Marcy. "Make them make her!"

Memphis looked around and suddenly felt a loosing on the grip of his arms. With some bravado he darted up on his feet and pushed the three other presented gentlemen aside so that he could make for the entrance they'd brought him in from.

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Re: Famine Fever
« Reply #188 on: May 04, 2014, 09:22:50 pm »
The day had been glorious. People had come with beautiful gifts, people had come as beautiful gifts. Ellian was was properly taken care of by anyone he would encounter in this tower that stood above a cave. The bat would have liked it, this world without sunlight. The bird, perhaps, would have liked the top of the building. Ellian didn't know about Nina. It was possible she would have liked the she-wolf, caught in the mazes they wandered after the prey that were provided. That enemy had been reduced to chemicals in his belly. Marcy had filled her with silver from an elephant gun. How drove. She'd kept the liver for herself.

Now they had returned to her lair, the well constructed place with the poorly build water pipes. He'd had milk all day, at his whim. Such spoiling would usually not do well for long with the lion, he'd left his original pride for challenges after all, but they had delivered game, too, so he was satiated. The evening had come outside, the wolf's moon somewhere up in the speckled black. Ellian wandered the long spaces between Marcy's rooms out of new habit. In the stone world she'd introduced to him today, there had been deer in different sizes and compositions around every bend.

When he couldn't find things to hunt here he followed her scent into a room that smelt more intimately of her. She was invested in these particular walls. He jumped up in the bed and rolled around, tore her sheets while she watched him. It took him longer than he'd expected. The fabrics were fine between his fingers, light against his claws. She sat by the window with a bag of very dark meat and a knife. She ate pieces like he'd seen other's eat apple.

When the feathers and the threads had fallen Ellian was still looking at her from the crater in her mattresses. The springs claimed his shirt when he rolled out and came to her. if he asked something she would give it with that amused smile. He was feeling affectionate. She laughed her laughter when he asked about her cycle of heat, and if it was anywhere close. There was never a No in Marcy, not even when No was the truth. She was a wishing machine that ran on livers.

His life couldn't be like this, of course. And it would be unheard of to simple leave something as beneficial as Marcy. He'd had powerful things to eat lately. She was powerful too, in his mind, though her flesh was only human. She felt like a final course, then, in the incoming streetlight and her inherent confidence. Not offensive in its heat, and not detached and cold. That moonlight kind of perfect. In the plains the immortal gorillas would hunt large prey once upon every three months under strict ritual. They would eat at night. The trees would be dripping.

When he offered his liver to her she didn't decline despite what he wanted in return. It was a steeper price than they'd once bargained over, but it would be for all of his liver, too. He angered when she cut him open, but it had been worth it to see her have her way with that large, filtering organ. She ate it all and her stomach became distended. He weakened while he watched her. He bled more than the bird in him could heal. She came to lay with him in his private ocean of immortal life. The life rippled when he rolled to be on top of her. Marcy wouldn't go back on a deal. In the end, he would have his liver back and more. All of Marcy. Sun eyes possessed a loyalty never reserved for cats.

"You are a lovely woman." and his face bent back.