Chance and Loe
Now, it’s hard to really assume one knew Chance Arden, but it was safe to believe not knowing her was well enough in your favor. She wasn’t exactly an icon of her age, notorious instead of well introduced, with each winding story a presentation of her utter cruelty vice any semblance of good nature. This wasn’t something the creature really questioned, being she’d gone so long in the lime light as a bad girl, and this sort of ideology carried expectations with it. Content to revel in her darker nature, hardly could you find a place in this Goddess forsaken galaxy that didn’t have a whisper of her deeds on its inhabitants lips. With her accomplishments came sick pride, a bubbling swell in the bosom of the beast that refused to be quelled, which only fueled the excessiveness of the Fae. To Chance, it was all in good fun, after all.
Not to say she couldn’t see the madness at face value; really, she would always be cognizant of her misdeeds. Killing was a sport, hunting a privilege and blood lust was acceptable. Who could deny her a passion so strong, the kiss of immortality trying to catch up to her always fleeting image, blond and furious in sexual deviancy with demons nipping at her heels? Staple of the Fae, a glorious image of beauty and sensuality, Chance was no different in several aspects of her linage. What stood out and really popped was her carnal urges, things most Fae could easily tie down and tuck away, but Chance seemed unable to hide. The woman ate when she wanted to eat, she fucked when the mood was right (which was always) and she murdered without a sense of remorse humanity might expect from the race that dominated the galaxy with looks alone. Were they the most powerful collection of creatures the cosmos could provide? Probably not; but they were damn good at getting you naked, which was half the issue when it came to power struggles.
Catch them at their most vulnerable and you will succeed in two things: Dominance and advantage.
Now though, this was a quiet time. Nothing seemed to take precedence over her enjoying a cocktail and mingling with the interplanetary individuals that roamed the interior of the back. Various grifters tried to pass their wares in their current conversations; a few working girls of various ethnicities did the same, peddling their erotic thoughts and adventurous offers of off landers. Chance licked her lips appreciatively with the swarm of collective noise, enthralled by the petty human nature of the galactic gathering. Just another cantina, populated by the loners and miscreants of the planet, with little mentioned when it came to war or politics or her least favorite subject: The Regals. She still had a bone to pick with that Micah prick, because some hundred or so years ago, he made a bitch of her. Not directly, no, because that would have put some stifle to her booming ego. Instead, he’d been the indirect reason she had found herself on the trek with Fiona the cocky little idiot who had been dead set on the Ocean key.
Now let’s face it, Chance could give two shits less about that mythical bullshit, because she was made of the very magic the artifact claimed to hold. Maybe not to the same extent, but to enough of a degree that she was satisfied never to search for relic. But Fiona had been a convincing girl, full of promise and confusion, entirely the better for the manipulative Fae girl to play with. That all changed when the party reached a certain barren rock; her, Fiona and the captive Daedalus. The prisoner ended up breaking off and running for the hills, Fiona vanished in the night in pursuit of that silly Key and Chance had been left to collect and regroup on her own, which ultimately gave her reason to all together quite the trek. Fuck ethics and resolve, fuck appreciation for lost magicks and fuck Micah Regal for coming out of this whole situation a hero. She had thought of the Paris bombings much in her recent meanderings, because of how much the world had changed in just one night.
Night sky had been alight with the bombardment, splendid and frightening, causing the populace of the area to flee in a panicked manner as if the Earth had finally met its end. She hadn’t followed up on the entirety of the aftermath, but the streets had been a wonderful place to wander in the following morning, strewn with corpses and carnage the likes she hadn’t even given herself the honor of causing. Such things aroused her, which may have been why her mind often fluttered back to the pile of bodies and debris that hid the once beautiful Parisian streets. Something about screaming innocence and fading strength just brought a lazy growl to her throat. This bar wasn’t special, didn’t have a damn thing to it that stood out, but the creature was all the more at home in such a setting because of its mundane roots. They didn’t recognize her here, a rare thing indeed – which made the hunt a tad easier.
Swirling irises fell on a skinny boy in the back, one who’d shamelessly tracked her movements from the moment she entered the establishment, and there was a flash of teeth. A smile to some, but to her kind, it was a blaring statement of their unquestioned dominance; as if to say ‘These are my fangs, made to sink into flesh, and I’m not afraid to use them’. Pristine ivory incisors were met by a flash of pink muscle as she ran a skilled tongue across the length of exposed maw, her lips curled in a playful smile that seemed to beg for company. She could send sultry looks across that smoky room without a single care in the world, knowing full well she’d leave this city full and content, no matter the cost. Insatiable and cunning, Chance had all the time in the universe to woo this current victim, but she needed just a night – never longer, if she knew what was good for her.
She’d made that mistake once, the choice to settle for just one man, and he had ended up dead.
This was Chance’s brittle heart breaking, stomped by the foot of a vengeful God and a territorial Goddess, hell-bent on showing her the true light. This was when every shred of her morality and conscience seemed to get sucked up into that abyssal wave of darkness she carried inside her, hidden under layer upon layer of malice and discontent. This was heartache, weighted and oppressive like a weight on her chest, choking out the last of her old self. Rebirth in the form of disregard; Chance stopped caring the minute her lovers heart stopped, and in such, she had become whole. No more reliance, entirely self-sufficient, the monster had come out on top swinging. And now, she was hungry, and this male of no more than twenty or so had made enough obscene gestures across the room to cement his position in her bed. What could she say? Underneath his thinly painted veneer of tattoos and ragged clothing, she saw the presence of fear – and that caused her half exposed thighs to rustle beneath the hem of her skirt.
If only for a night, she’d make him aware of the face of the Goddess.
Rising from her seat, the Fae sauntered towards the man, all sashay and sass, her eyes never leaving his person. That’s what made her strange to most, even with the presence of a heavily glamoured outer appearance; those irises were a marvel unto themselves. Blues and greens, all mashing into a swirl, but the colors never mixed, instead segmented and stark against the whites of her eyes. They created the wicked hands of an otherworldly clock, moving in slow ticks around her pupils with each passing second, counting down how long her victims had to live. When she reached her target, a hand immediately raised to brush against the stubble of his cheek, fingers delicate against the thick hair of his scruff. With his gaze met by her own, she wanted to impress her prowess through the locked stare, seeking holes in the thin layer of resistance humans possessed to her kind.
“You look hurt, Baby. Let me kiss it better.” A beginning to an end, Chance was a greedy lover, expecting complete compliance with her wants, so whatever he’d hoped to include in their meeting was cast away the minute her words came. Maybe it was how she presented herself, with a tight fit outfit of fine fabrics imported from far off lands or the golden cascade of her endless blond locks that danced about bare shoulders, but she must have done something right by how quite her partner was in receiving the comment. Finally he mustered his own flashing smile, though his demeanor was a cautious one, like he was weary of such an approach. Chance didn’t mind subtleties when it came to the hunt, nor did she exclude foreplay in her usual game. Actually, the Fae was interested in just how he’d play a part in all this discrete flirting. Pouting lush lips in his response, the female took a moment accept what was being said, eager to please and even more inclined to lure in the current prey of her chasing games.
“I have a room if you’re interested.”
“Always.” Chance replied with flash of her grinning incisors, knowing full well just what he expected.
Life was a game of conquest, and Chance was on top of her game.
[/sub]
---
The night was a warm reminder of home, if only briefly, and as Chance’s body arched in crescent fashion, it was clear the electricity in the air was endless. Her victim, flavor of the evening, was straddled and bucking beneath her weight with a thin veneer of sweat casting a pleasant sheen over his features. Nameless, she’d remember the boy by his sounds, all guttural and desperate in his attempts to keep up with the Fae’s feverish pace. The world would not know this decadence, but a select few could see the image of the woman in her natural state first hand. Not entirely showing, her glamour still hiding dark and disfigured wings, but her body… It pulsed and shimmered in the dimly lit chamber.But like all good things, there was an end to be found after climax.
Chance’s voice chocked out a whimper, depraved and haunting, before the shadowed figure of her torso shivered into submission. Beneath came a very similar response, growled out in addition to the pressure of twisting inner muscles tightening along the connection between them, and all at once the two collapsed into a panting pile among the sheets. Sweat kept the fabric clingy and Chance’s eyes adjusted after reopening to stare off at the far wall; though her hands delicately traced over the curve of pectorals and biceps with fluid grace. Between the two strangers, she was the least likely to speak amid the damp nest of juices and foreign bed spreads, but she managed something of a smirk as she heard him trying to strike conversation.
“That was amazing. I don’t know what you did, or who you are, but I feel changed somehow.” Honesty shone through the words of praise, like the boy meant what he said, but Chance didn’t really find herself overly impressed by statements involving her performance. Once you knew you were good, the string of awe inspired questions and comments grew tiresome. Besides, the Fae didn’t find the act endearing as she might have with someone she cared for; hence it had been a very long time since she’d had a mate. A one night stand was all this boy would be, with his smug grins and sheepish hands – nothing about him screamed ‘keep me,’ so Chance knew there was only one step left to their transaction.
Disposal.
Rolling away as if ready to settle in for sleep, the Fae found herself flat on her back to the side of her partner, oculars swirling in that usual fashion while her attention waned from his words. Inside her chest cavity, a stirring of inner power began to work its way towards the surface and every second that passed furthered the strange cycle of transformation. Her heart beats quickened and the dark pupils amid a menagerie of color were quickly swallowed up until all that remained were peeking pin pricks in seas of blue and green. Swallowing, Chance turned herself onto her side to face the chattering fellow and with an almost carefree tone, the Fae asked, “Do you dream?” It wasn’t something uncommon for Chance to question, being she often wanted to know various things of her victims before they were taken care of; especially of their dreaming habits.
She was not human now, nor was she ever human, so the way mortals dreamed often caused the Fae to think long and hard on the subject. That was where they came from after all, where Arcadia lay beyond the hedge and the veil, a place Chance could never get to herself. She had given up many things in her long years, things others often took for granted, but a place among her people was something the Caetos had assured she never receive – a fact the female seemed to be over in most regards. That is, unless she was among humans, to which she’d ask her questions regarding their sleeping habits and their dreams in hopes of seeing the motherland through their inexperienced eyes. The boy was silent though, like he didn’t know how to answer her, but she knew better; his demeanor gave him away.
“You don’t dream, do you?”
“No, not usually. I can’t remember them if I do.” Another bout of honesty and another dead end for Chance Arden. Neither seemed to want to follow up with any more fun facts, and her companion for the evening, obviously fatigued from their performance, was trying to break the tension with a smile. Eventually she rolled onto her other side and blandly stated, “My dreams are strange. They don’t share or show guidance. They only show Loe.” Finding herself standing, she padded across the worn carpeting and began to gather her clothing, neatly piling it after folding each garment. Tucking the clothes inside a dresser drawer, it was obvious she didn’t want the material to partake in the next steps of her captive’s short existence; blood never did wash out. She had learned this the hard way over years of the same game.
“Loe?”
Laughing, she realized he’d have no idea just who or what she meant when she spoke of Loe. So, like any good hostess, Chance arranged the meeting with muted pride. Shadows seem to widen and spread along the walls and furniture, easing upwards to snuff the lights in a show of their prowess while Chance answered in her soft and lyrical vocals. “Loe is every dark intention I’ve ever had. Like having a conscience for some, he allows me existence without boundaries. Humans would turn to their morals, but I don’t have such shackles. Not now.” A breathe of smoke escaped the blond as a wave of supernatural night encased the small hotel room, gripping the two present occupants in forced darkness. Clicking her tongue, her eyes shifted downwards to cast their eerie glow on the floor and countless writhing appendages that slithered along its face; enjoyment evident by the smile she bore. “He wants to meet you. Can you hear him calling?”
The flickering mass with all its appendages hissed in contentment as it mounted the bed and the male seemed utterly shocked as countless suckering tendrils found their way to his arms and legs. Wrapping to bind, tight and cold, they engulfed the boy in the same fashion the ocean would was over a ship wrecked survivor and were only then met with the muffled cries of terror he emitted. Sometimes things would get messy when victims struggled, but now, the Caetos was free to consume and devour in a leisurely fashion; sharing only a few suckling quivers before the tattooed stranger was entirely gone from this existence. The plane of the fleshlands, where humanity and other such creatures existed, was a harvesting dimension for other more exotic creatures of the multiverse. This boy didn’t know it yet, but death here would have been a godsent compared to the horrors he’d find in the abyss.
Chance would give anything to find a home in the abyss.
[/sub]
--- o ---
Morning light had woken the Fae in her own room, but she kept still in the covers of her bed, continuing to attempt dreams. Nothing came, not today, but the familiar whispers in her tipped ears acknowledged it was awake. With her lids shut, she could see the form it took lying next to her on the bed, entirely black and male but featureless. A phantom, hulking and savage and dangerous, but all the same hers to some extent. The Caetos had grown quite a bit since she first accepted the parasite, and with each year came new developments in its character, nature and physique – meaning as she changed, it did as well. Eventually she knew a face would be present on the blank veneer of its head, but instead of excitement, genuine fear ate at her. The body it chose was familiar, as was the voice, so when there came a face…
It would be his.
“Admit it, you’re afraid you’ll love me as if I were him.”
But Chance didn’t answer her questioning shadow, instead shifting to remove herself from the sheets. It wasn’t his business how she felt, just as it hadn’t been her business why it would choose the Demon form she had memorized and stored in the back of her mind. “We should get moving. Do a bit of exploring.” If only to kill the topic at hand, the subject change hinted at their reasons for being here. She could feel Regal close, somewhere on this shit hole of a planet, and that meant she needed to prepare for whatever came with that little meet and greet. Loe dissipated back into the Fae as a shadow might shrink when the lights were brightened, existing as the incorporeal voice he had once been content to be, carried in the mind of a killer.
“As you wish.”
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
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