Darkness hugged the creatures, enveloping them in its sinful embrace the way they wore each other over their scraps of clothing. Draped over one another, yet still swaying and sinking to the hypnotic beat as they swam in the ocean of lust. No love to be witnessed, felt or heard, but raw sin.
As salty as the blood pumping through their veins, sweat poured out of their pores, mingling with exotic colognes and flamboyant fragrances telling of the sweetest blooms this side of Yggdrasil. And tangier still was the scent of sex, lingering amongst the gyrating bodies, tempting them further against the way of the gods.
What heed ought these creatures, of the blackest nature, to pay to warning of the gods? The darkness was enough- and drink provided plenary of persuasion, though most in company could hold Dark liquors well enough.
Packing the Blue Dragon to the brim, the Dark Preternaturals writhed to an unholy symphony of celestial instruments and the beautiful cries of Dark Elvish voices.
'The elves corrupt, so listen well, not to their voices, but to mine as I tell: know what the dark sing, but hear not what they say; hear what the light say, but know not of their song.' An ancient teaching embedded in the minds of the magical- save the elves themselves, both Light and Dark.
Only a fool would ignore such a message.
And the seven individuals lined up along the illuminated bar were certainly not fools. Those individuals in question spoke in low, scheming voices, concocting a plan to achieve a common goal. In any other situation, hatching plans of the highest illegality in the middle of a crowded nightclub would be entirely suicidal- but this was a somewhat special situation. These where no mere crooks, but some of the finest killers and deadliest sovereigns outside Elysium- or Tartarus for that matter.
...
And Jason.
"We follow the path that the largest load takes and intercept at the junction between-"
"That won't work.", Lahra intercepted Tyrone, reaching past Damian to grab a swig of Adyn's Sidhe's-mead, nodding her head in acknowledgment at the started demon, "Look, I know their tactics. These buggers always keep the most precious items in the smaller lorries with less protection cause they don't think it'll be hit when there's a bigger one. The bigger ones have got the basics- your average guns, shields, teleported. It's a little trick they've got going on."
Nursing his 7up (the only drink he was permitted to have, though he could've sworn the waiter Edmonde slipped a cheeky something in) Jason sniffed, "Yeah, I overheard some white-triangles talking about arrangements for lorries to be taken out, so of course I went to investigate, saw them loading some vans with shittons of weapons- everything from magical javelin things to magical bazookas.". He frowned, drawing in the others' attentions. "The smaller of the two trucks was loaded, nothing was in the other, then I saw some of the workers getting in before the big one drove off. It's fishy as fuck."
Tapping the rim of his glass, Damian reviewed what Jason and Lahra had said, noting the simple adjustments that would need to be made to their plan. Rather than straight on attacking the larger carrier, they would analyse the defences surrounding the smaller one and find a way to intercept that.
Finalising this segment of their grand scheme, Jackson proposed, "I'll see to it that some of our men are sent to scope out the area,", he flashed his pearly whites at Jason, "I'll send them in with you."
Raven drummed her slender fingers on the bar table, shooting a glance at Damian and her brother, "We'll revisit our other...contacts and look further in to the weapons."
Giving a similar response, Tyrone promised to reach out to his tracker friends (predominantly shifters from the other end of Gotham's backstreets), guaranteeing that they'd be of use when the time came.
"Right,", Lahra smacked her lips, draining another pint all-but chucked at her from Edmonde, "Well, I'll be downing a lifetime's worth of ale in here if anyone needs me!"
How Jason wished he could do the same.
***
Having been suspended from school for the next few days, Raven hadn't much to do with her life. She had stopped volunteering at the primary school due to her starting secondary and it being the holidays, however, now she was sorely missing the bubbly environment of a classroom of little children. The class she mainly worked with would have begun learning more complex phonics sounds by now, that would have been a few fun lessons. Oh well, Belladonna was at school currently, so Raven couldn't go through anything yet with her.
Sighing, Raven rummaged through her cupboard, searching for any clothes that might need mending- she way desperate for some form of occupation. Unfortunately, all her clothes were in impeccable condition, not a moth bite in sight! Neither were there any books left unread in the collection in a bedside drawer or hers. Nor had she any interest in meditating or training. Boredom was exhaustingly boring. Surprise surprise.
Releasing an aggravated groan, Raven slammed her wardrobe door shut, resting her forehead on the wood for a brief moment, gathering her thoughts.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe.breathe.breathe.
Good. That was better.
Opening her eyes with a sharp exhale, Raven made haste to the door, leaving the confines of her room to wander the corridors. A left. A right. Another right. Up some stairs. Around a corner. As tended to happen when one strolled around Wayne Manor, Raven ended up facing an imposing wall, almost laughing at her.
That papered wall stared straight back, testing the extent of her patience. Raven was tempted to strike it. Breathe.breathe.breathe. Fingers at her temples, Raven turned around, leaning against the wall to silence the temptation of tearing it down. Letting her head fall back against the surface with a light thud, Raven lowered her eyelids, extending her senses.
Like purple waves, she envisioned her mind expanding through the Manor, rushing and gushing in all directions like untameable white horses. That vengeful, blazing aura of her brother flared in the training room, clashing with the mixed aura coming from (who she supposed was training or sparring with him) Damian. His aura was an anomaly: that calm, unobtrusive water-like feel on the surface, like most humans; beneath it, a hellish inferno warred with shattering light like Zeus' thunderbolts shrouded in electric emerald green. It was an anomaly that Raven loved. A few other human auras littered across the Manor: the aged feel of the butler; the bright sparkling water of Stephanie Brown; Tim Drake's crisp aura like a fresh glass of bottled water- he was apparently in the Batcave.
The two newer auras were of mor interest to Raven, for they were, like Damian, anomalies. Not to his extent, but different all the same. Selina Kyle and Harley Quinn. Both in the kitchen, sat down, drinking some kind of hot beverage, probably tea. Selina...well, she certainly was Catwoman. Below the undisrupted ocean of her human aura, there was a fine stream of disrupted water, almost boiling. And coincidentally enough, Damian's feline, Mr Pennyworth (who slept on his bed besides Titus the dog) held a similar, bubbling aura. That explained much.
Harley, in the other hand, was the only being Raven had ever known to hold such an aura. Something akin to electricity jumped atop her human watery essence, not like that of a child of the thunder gods, but something else. It was a concerning something. A mad something.
Raven hoped that something wouldn't take control. Harleen would fall of the thin tightrope of her sanity. Problematic- and certainly so for those around her, Batman, Catwoman, Ivy and the likes. Bella definitely: she'd become somewhat attached to her 'Aunty H'.
Abandoning the wall she leant on, Raven found her way out of the dead end, reentering society as she wound up in the kitchen. Walking in on seemingly causal conversation between the black-haired cat lady and the blonde, Raven greeted them with a small wave and slight smile.
"Heya!", Harleen grinned. "Watchya doin missy demon?"
Knowing she meant nothing offensive by it, Raven filled up the kettle with tap water, responding with a shrug, "Nothing. I'm quite bored actually, looking for something to do."
Setting her mug down, Selina clipped a short, rebelling strand of hair down, inviting, "Why don't you sit with us? It'd save you from walking about aimlessly."
Chewing the inside of her lip, Raven plopped a teabag in a mug, poured in the boiled water, then a splash of milk before stirring it all and throwing out the teabag: today was a milky tea day. Gingerly takin a seat around the kitchen island, opposite the two anti-heroes, Raven set her mug down.
"Why're you sitting opposite us?", Selina tilted her head.
Forehead creasing at the question, Raven frowned, speaking slowly, "I guess...I like seeing who I'm speaking to. If that makes sense. To see their...meaning...in their posture...expressions. To know what's in their eyes if they speak to me.", her amethyst orbs locked on to Selina's. "Somewhat analytical."
The blonde took a discomforting slurp of her sugary tea.
Still holding her mug, Harley cocked her head at the demoness, her face unreadable but her emotions telling all, "Why'd ya need ta analyse us? What're ya runnin' from?"
Had she not been an empath, Raven would have been none the wiser to the ex-villain's ulterior motives and simply put off by the sudden professionalism in her tone. However, Raven Roth was an empath, and a powerful one at that, she sensed not only Harley's burning curiosity, but also her willingness to disgruntle and upset the demoness. It might have been involuntary- Azar knew, the woman made a habit of attacking others in that way- but it stung any way.
Her questions brought Raven far back, resurfaced memories she begged to stay buried in the darkest corners of her mind. That question egged on the creature's chained at the back of her mind, creatures that loved to roar and howl and screech when Raven was weak. Yet, she would subdue those creatures. Beat them down and drown them in her resistance. Stifle them and strangle them until they quietened. Harley would not wake them up now, there was no way Raven would allow that.
Attempting to ease amiability in to her voice, Raven spoke.
"I run from nothing. I ran from much. I avoid so much more.", she smiled without humour. "Does that answer your questions?"
Selina's eyes flicked between the two, not sure what to make of the exchange.
Cracking the icy mood, a great beam broke out of Harleen's face as she said, "D'ya know, I like you. There's somethin' mean in there,", she poked a finger in Raven's direction, "but a lotta badass. Real interestin'."
Nodding her thanks, Raven raised the mug to her lips, taking a lengthy sip of tea. It certainly was a milky tea day indeed.
***
"YOU WOULD DEFY ME SO?!", the voice shattered through her eardrums, but still she didn't raise her head, kneeling with her head to her raised knee- just as the others besides her did.
"DO YOU NOT FEAR PUNISHMENT LITTLE GIRL?!"
This time, the rage she inherited from him would not be contained, and she lifted her head, grinding out in her jarringly youthful, twinkling tones, "I care not for myself."
The ungodliness incarnate, seated on a throne of skulls and bones and human despair, stared down at its creation, at the innocence he had beaten and forced in to a vessel of ruthless bloodthirstiness. And she would yet be moulded as he saw fit and wielded as his greatest sword and strongest shield. So small. A child. But the greatest battery of all, and she would channel that energy as he saw fit.
She knew he would stamp the disobedience out of her. And if stamping did not work, he would continue to whip it and train it and stab it out of her until nothing existed but a shell of a demonoid with nothing save carnality guiding her actions. There was no escaping such a fate.
As she covered the fear that flooded the veins of her being with stubbornness, the child knew that nothing would stop the oncoming punishment, so she had best pray to the gods- to any that would listen. Even as her tiny lips moved in a flurry of silent begs and pleas and water streamed from her eyes like dew falling from the petals of a violet, she knew hope didn't exist. Not in this world.
Yet she tried. Each rivulet of saltiness trickling over her cheeks, hitting the stone in a dreadful pattern of misery, confirmed her sentence. The gods would not listen. Azar would not hear her. Why would anyone bless an abomination?
Who she cried for was a long list. Herself. The mother she wished had cared. The souls she killed. Those she prayed would survive. 'Azar be merciful. Please. Please. Please.'
Metal ground on stone floor and tears fell twofold. The blade was coming. Like a snake closing in on its prey, ready to strike, the blade awaited her. How would it's sting feel? This would not be like the other cuts, it would go straight through. Dying would hurt. Dying would hurt so much, Azarath...dear Azarath she didn't want to die. No, no, no. She didn't want the pain either. Is death merciful, or is it eternal pain?
The tears fell and fell and fell.
Splash. Splash. Splash.
And the metal stopped dragging on the floor, but no blade met her skin. Instead, a rough hand gripped her forearm, angry red. And a rougher voice ordered her as it had done a thousand times before.
"Unveil them."
"No!", she screamed at once, "PLEASE! No! Don't! Please, please, please! I beg of you, I'll do anything, don't!"
But the creature's touch held great power, and before she could do anything other than cry for all she was worth, a spine-shredding pain tore through her back. Gritting her teeth against the pain, the girl fell entirely to the ground, hands beating at the unresponsive stone.
She felt them unfurling, spreading proudly above her, and she wished she could shove them away, hide each feather in the furthest corner of the universe and bury the sinew and bones below even Tartarus. But she knew that wasn't possible.
"Here,", the throne-sitter boomed, "is your punishment."
The blade met the joining of the great, feathery masses and her back in a great hacking motion, and the girl screamed to the skies and the heavens and the gods for release. The blade kept going, kept sawing, and the angels heard her screeching pleads. But the angels and the gods an the heavenly creatures did nothing. The little girl continued to cry until no more tears would come and there was no voice left in her being.
Then she heard a dreaded sound. One she had only heard once before in her life, the first moments of her birth. A horrific, scarring, wailing cacophony of godly remorse.
The angels cried.
***
With a single scream, Raven slammed out of sleep. Glass cutting in to her cheek as the bedroom window shattered.
***
A.N
So, that was quite an alright chapter, no?
Well my darlings, I hope you liked that- I know that last part tugged on a few heartstrings, sorry about that. Now I'd just like to notify you that I'll be updating earlier than usual next time because.... in 2 or 3 days it will have been a whole year since I started writing this book!
Can you believe it?! I certainly can't!
But I'll say more about that next time!
Thanks
-Bats :3