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Salt, Spice


Started by Thorfinn
Post #64003
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Likes Given: 190
Likes Received: 165
Faction & Race:
Ebonheart Pact
Nord
(A short story, the details of which may be familiar to Daggerfall and Morrowind players. Or lore buffs.)

The gardens were beautiful this time of year. The tall keep of the Lauret family, his family, rose like a spear of grey and silver in the sunshine. The smell was so beautiful that Joscelin stopped just to stand and inhale. Lavander and roses grew wildly along the path. Ivy spread willfully across the trellises. There was wonderful beauty here.

Joscelin walked a while longer, wondering at the silence. Normally, the keep was alive with sound, but not today. As he rounded the sweeping path, he stopped. Before him stood the most beautiful thing in the garden. Something he did not recognise. Someone. She was as tall as he, slender and willowy. Hair that shone like gold in the sun drifted, dreamlike, around her face. She was so perfect he felt like his presence lessened her radiance. He began to back away, but she beckoned him over, and he went gladly. As he neared, she blinked a tear from her sea-green eyes. It fell, and another welled up in its place. Joscelin reached out and brushed it from her cheek. It weighed abnormally on his hand, and despite the warm luminescence of her eyes, he looked down. A single perfect droplet or red liquid lay on his fingertip, and without hesitation he raised it to his mouth and tasted it.

Warmth spread throughout him. It tasted sharp with salt, yet soft with spice. In ecstasy, Joscelin looked back at the woman. But she had changed. The once perfect lines of her face split into veins of midnight black across pale grey skin the colour of mist. Her eyes, once so clear and brilliant were dull, lifeless and murky. Her lips, still in his mind’s eye full and matchless, were withered and from them sprung droplets of red. In gathering panic, Joscelin tried to comfort her, he took her hair in his hands. Yet hair that once glowed with the light of burnished gold now gleamed with the blackness of obsidian. Fear took Joscelin’s breath, his mind and his heart. From those strands of ashen hair, serpents hissed and writhed, wreathing her face with snarling, undulating beasts. He tried to step back, but could not move. He felt himself loosing balance, yet he could not not move. He felt himself falling away, tumbling backwards without end. Yet he could not move. He screamed in mad terror, and suddenly his body felt like fire. He hit the ground with an impact which drove the last vestiges of sleep from his body. All that was left was the hunger.
This post was last modified: May 5th 2013, 04:06 PM by Thorfinn




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