Respite and Recollection

Anetho pulled himself against Illenna’s bare body comfortably. Wrapped in her arms he knew an inner peace he’d not felt in what seemed as though years. He kissed her body up and down, brought her to heights of pleasure and satiated her every desire. Their hearts beat in tandem, lips fighting against each other, hips swaying to the melody of their heated passions.

When at last he’d brought her to the climax of their waltz, he felt the weight of the world’s affairs lifting from his shoulders. Here, in the middle of Dalaran where he’d whisked her away to, whereupon Sunreavers were still to this day being rounded up and cast in shackles, and he was content. Happy. Free. He nuzzled against her and she was all to happy to entertain his fancies, both enjoying the moment. “You’ll keep me safe… won’t you?” He whispered against her, his eyes fluttering closed. “You hardly need -my- help for that.” She retorted, running her fingers through his hair. Gods he loved that sensation. “…Not from without… but within…” He mused quietly. “Good night, Magister…” She whispered, kissing him on his forehead. Reality gave way to the world of dreams. Though tonight they were filled with nostalgia, rather than bitterness and cruelty.

The wood cracked and popped before the unquenchable hunger of the flames licking away at the logs. This was the truth Anetho had bore witness to today, in claiming what was rightfully a skilled warlock’s prize. Even amongst the highest of powers, everything and every one burns. He smirked, poking at the flames with a stick, readjusting the cinders to retain the most warmth and light as he might. His eyes continued to drift to that mark upon the back of his left palm. An intricate series of circles and marks drifting in and out of each other in an appealing and entrancing fashion. The Succubus had branded him, the seal of their arrangement.  He was promised ten specific souls before she, in turn, claimed his. It was a morbid, but fitting arrangement. Everything about those whom he’d fled from had to be destroyed and in the end, that meant he too had to join the pyre. His lips twisted into a demented smile at this resolution…. before a soft rustling from the bushes behind him pried him from his thoughts. His right hand instinctively drew to the dagger as he stood upright. “Hello?” He asked alloud, silence his only reply. Perhaps it was one of the lynx cubs. He shook his head and returned his attention to the fire as he rustled about the satchel the Succubus left behind in the wake of her summoner’s death. He found a few loaves of bread and pulled one for himself. Just as he moved to take a bite, something had pushed itself violently against him. He rolled forward with the momentum throwing his would-be attacker some ten feet. She was rather light. She snarled at him like a wild animal, scrambling to her feet and rushing towards him again.

He bounded to the side, as she thrust past him. His knee rising to slam against her midsection, knocking the wind out of the woman. Her agony was voiced through an exasperated gasp for air as he took her by the hair, dagger now in hand. She wiggled left and right until she felt the cold steel running across the back of her neck. She was beautiful, bright red hair, tempting lips, and a ferocity to those jade green eyes. For but a moment Anetho debated killing the woman before something greater took hold. A book he’d been reading. “I’m going to release you. If you wish food, I’ve some to share and a pelt large enough for two so we might stay warm.” He released his grasp all at once and she pulled into a defensive stance. Her face indicated confusion as she locked eyes upon his.

As a sign of good faith Anetho procured another loaf of bread from his pack and held it out to her. “T’is alright… You can have it…” He said in a gentle, inviting tone. She reached out, still doubtful, poking it with her fingers before greedily snatching it from him. The light from his fire allowed him to see a reason for her distrust. She was bleeding, a gash running along her side. “…you poor thing..” He shuffled closer. “I can fix it. If you’ll allow me.” At first the woman pulled away, unsure. But he had given her food even after attacking. She relented and the nodded. He pulled his shirt off and rummaged through his own supplies. From a small vial he applied an adhesive salve to his top and asked her to pull her own off in kind. Not one for social normalicy, she complied. Silken globes of flesh bare in the night, smooth skin, curious eyes. He pressed his shirt upon the injury and tied it off at her back. A soothing sensation rippled across her body and she sighed in relief. He unrolled the pelt near the fire and she followed after, ripping and gnawing at the bread. “You’ll catch cold if we keep you exposed long…” He mused nuzzling against her, wrapping the lynx fur about both of them. “Why…I meant to kill you…” She finally spoke. “Because I would have done the same as you had.” He replied softly, not bothering to indicate the aged man from earlier in the day. Despite herself, she wrapped her arms around him and laid against his healthy, defined figure. “…You have a name?” She whispered, awkward in the exchange. “..Anetho. Do you?” She mumbled in turn. “No.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “Then I’ll give you one…” He paused. “A pleasure to meet you Cielane. Sleep well.” And so she did, never having known comfort or companionship as she did now.

Anetho’s lips curl into a smile as he purred against Illenna. As warm and content with her as he was amidst dreams of days long gone. She truly had kept his inner demons at bay.


~ by anethodawnpride on May 7, 2013.

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