Drabble 09

                                      Homunculus

Darkness was all around, it’s inky black stain crowding in on her, making her afraid. There was a wrongness to it, an unnatural edge to this dark void, something alien and unknown to the Goddess. What was it….she cast about for a memory, knowing the answers she sought lie not in her experience as a God, but in the mundane, every day lives of the humans. Sleep! That’s what this was…and it was wrong. She didn’t remember falling asleep, she couldn’t! She had no need for such respite, and yet…something had forced her into this state.

It was sleep, and yet it was not…she was bordering on consciousness, becoming aware of other things, of other sensations. Faintly she could hear a voice talking to her, but it was sluggish, her ears unable to make out the words. Something—no someone, was touching her. Hands were on her body, gentle and caressing. She found the touch invasive, anger flaring at this handling of her flesh.

Lenneth found herself being lifted up, cradled against a chest. She felt the strength in the arms that held her, was aware of the broad chest she lay against. She felt her panic build, realizing it was a man who touched her. How dare he! Did he not know who she was….what she was?! Lenneth must have made some sound of protest, for she felt as well as heard him whisper in her ear, a soothing hush meant to calm her. Her body wanted to believe in the lie of comfort the voice offered, content to lay limp and relaxed in his embrace. But her mind refused to accept this, even as his hands moved along her body, brief touches that left her skin burning wherever he caressed

~I have to wake up!~ She thought desperately, fighting with herself. She was so tired, she had to fight tooth and nail to the surface of the murky waters of sleep. She was nearly going under, falling back into slumber, when a hand rested on her thigh. Outrage flared, and she struggled awake, Lenneth breaking free of Nott’s grip.

Bright light assaulted her eyes, causing her to blink her eyelids rapidly. Her eyes hurt, and everything seemed blurry, as though her eyes were not used to seeing. That was not the only discomfort she became aware of…her lungs felt close to bursting, and she was shocked to realize she must force herself to take small breaths, to actually breathe in oxygen. ~What’s wrong with me?!~ Her ears listened to her gasping for air, and she came close to fainting. Only her iron clad will kept her awake, not ready to give up the hard won prize of consciousness.

“Easy now…” The voice was less muffled, clearer now. “Let it come naturally to you…” A hand touched her neck, fingers stroking the hollow of her throat. “Don’t think about it, just do it…” Advice she would do well to follow, even as she recoiled from the hated touch. The hand on her thigh pressed down, trying to keep her still. Lenneth continued to jerk away….or rather, she made the attempt. Her body just didn’t seem to want to respond to her thoughts!

“Lenneth Valkyrie…” He knew her name?! She turned her eyes in the direction of his face, and gave a start of recognition. She knew this man! Chocolate brown hair, the bangs long and falling into his eyes, gold plated spectacles that covered purple eyes that glinted with dark intentions. Worse of all was his mouth, his lips smiling at her in a most predatory fashion.

~Defiler of Souls!~ She tried to hiss out, even as she was scrambling out of his arms, panic and distaste firing up nerves and synapses. ~Hated necromancer!~ Her arms were lashing out, smacking into him, causing him to drop his hold on her. She rolled to the left, feeling a down soft mattress under her body. Her stomach turned at the thought of being alone in a bedroom with the wizard, and she continued her flight, coming to the edge of the bed. Her feet touched the floor, even as Lezard was coming around from the other side, rushing towards her. Lenneth tried to let out a startled cry as her legs refused to support her, but nothing came out. Oh Odin, why couldn’t she speak?!

Down she went, even as he reached her, his arms encircling her waist, keeping her from slamming into the cold floor. He lifted her up high, legs dangling, and she grabbed at his shoulders for support. She wrinkled up her nose in distaste, finding his face too close to hers. ~NO!~ It came out a low whine, and she felt herself falling back onto the bed, head cushioned on a pillow. The necromancer came with her, pressing his body down on top of her’s to stop her thrashing about. She fought like a wild woman, fighting tooth and nail against him, even as her movements were slow, lethargic, and weak as a kitten.

The necromancer settled his weight on her legs, hands grabbing hold of her wrists, pinning them down over her head. Still she fought, trying to rise her body up off the bed, front brushing against his chest. That was a mistake, it set him off, letting out a delighted laugh, wild and full of desire. Lenneth continued to rally insults at him in her mind, unable to find her tongue, unable to voice out loud her distaste for him.

~What have you done to me?!~ She demanded with her eyes. He seemed to understand her unspoken question. Or perhaps he was just good at guessing where her thoughts must lie. Either way he was eager, proud to boast of what he had done. He spun a tale of perfecting his spell, of finally stumbling upon the key ingredient that had so eluded him in the past. Lenneth listened with horrified fascination as he revealed to her that she was Goddess no more, trapped in a body crafted to his desires. She fell still, shocked, and he cautiously released his hold on her.

Now she understood. This body wasn’t hers, wasn’t used to being alive….her spirit alone was animating it, his spells slow to take effect on aligning her thoughts to her nervous system. Her body was tingling, coming alive, and she shakily raised a hand before her face, staring at it. ~Presumptious blasphemer!~ She thought, gazing on her flawless skin. She turned her hand this way and that, trying to spot the differences it held.

“I crafted it to match your body.” Lezard was saying, sitting back on his knees. His hand came up to his face, finger sliding his glasses back up his nose. It was a nervous gesture, and she realized he was waiting for her to show some sign of approval. “Ah…” She was desperately trying to work her throat, feeling a scream building up. It wanted out, and she thought her lungs would burst if she did not grant it release. “Speak my darling…speak…” commanded the wizard eagerly.

Despairing, she let her mouth fall open, and one loud wail erupted from her, all her heartbreak and anguish captured perfectly in that cry.