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[Azreal Lu`Rael]

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Molly..

The soft voice whispers in the dark.

My sweet little pet, can you not feel me drawing near? Surely you did not think I had let go of you my dear, in darkness I am always here.

The pale figure in the dark slowly materializes, illuminated upon this eerie stage by ill-conceived moonlight, its source veiled in shadow without form or comfort to the weary. In the recesses of the subconscious, a place with neither window nor door, the lady Molly finds herself raptured within this horror, imprisoned in her mind by the haunting figures depraved will.

Shhhh, there is no need to fear. Be still now and lend me thy ear...

The vision begins to violently distort and twist in this nether slowly reshaping and taking new form, the pale figure now shown laying upon his side on a bed scented and covered with delicate moist rose pedals. Unable to speak nor do any a thing in this most unaggreeable state, the lady Molly lays bare and limp without cover to warm her cold flesh, nor comfort to warm the chill seeping into the hollows of her soul.

What moments we share, how awful we must meet here.

The figure gently lays his head upon her chest, his fingertips drawing invisible figures upon her flesh as he speaks. The sound of her heart now beating more rapidly, sweet music to his ear. As the nether evolves and contorts a painting slowly appears before the bed neatly upon its stand, the image of her upon it becoming animated as a window into past things best left forgotten or lost.

How wonderful these moments were to be sure my dear, but of these you forget our most cherished memory... There.

He lifts his left hand from her flesh and extends a pale finger towards the canvas, the scene painted upon its surface quickly begins to morph and bend with his will slowly molding into a scene of a dark ebon structure surrounded by snow and the stench of death. The image begins to flow and pour off the canvas and a vile chanting begins to fill the nether. The stage instantly flashes from scene to scene of the dark ceremony, her surroundings and dress changing with every beat of the void forcing her to relive every foul moment of the dark ceremony that bound her to him until everything fades and there is nothing but darkness.

You are mine always my dear, every inch of your sweet delicious flesh, your very soul belongs to me my dear.

An unseen hand caresses her form, a whisper heard in her ear.

These pets you have been keeping are growing less and less amusing and now there is this Ragnar, play for now my sweet but do remember whom you serve and rightfully belong.

As the unseen fiqure moves slowly away she can feel something soft yet sharp being lightly placed upon her chest as the scene plays out to its end.

Lay still now my bride and dream, dream of pretty dark things. Dream of me.

The nightmare finally comes to its end and the shaken lady wakes to the comfort of her normal surroundings but there is a lingering presence here, a touch of chill on her flesh. Looking down to her horror she finds a single rose and there before her bed a painting, the manifestation of a past moment that will not be forgotten nor die

In darkness you shall always find me....

[Molly]

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Laying still she opens her eyes as tears of fear stream down the sides of her face. She is afraid to move. Her heart is throbbing in her ears. She still shakes from the fear of the dream. The air still smells of him...but he couldn't be here...moving her hand along her body making sure she still had the night shift she had put on when she layed down, she finds something laying on her chest. It pricks her hand as she carefully raises her head and looks at it. Abruptly she sits up and scoots back into the corner pulling the pillows and blankets over her body and stares at the rose. She can not catch her breath as the fear grips her throat. She looks up and sees the painting. She screams then faints.
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Grand Duchess Molly Kaldhel
Oracle of Truth
The House Gauntlet
Sanctus, Luna, Malas
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xXoGDbJ5nLU
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"In politics, if you want anything said, ask a man. If you want anything done, ask a woman."
-Margaret Thatcher-

[Azreal Lu`Rael]

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Within one of his gleaming marble towers Azreal stares off into the distence as he sits, contemplating the affair of Molly Willow. The charade had gone on for far to long now, what once was ammuseing and delictiable was becoming a nuisance and this could not be allowed to perpetuate. Not only had she grown irratating but defiant as well, the creatures ignorence to her situation was begaining to wane upon his patience. He had come to her now in dream and in physical body and yet despite this she still did not not seem to grasp the truth of the matter in the slightest. Truth that she is bound eternally to him, that she belonged in flesh and soul to him and that she would take her place one way or another with his dark brides.

How you vex me.....

The choice was becoming clearer as his inhuman moralitys and intellect processed and dissected it all, if she would not serve in life then she must be sacrificed to the great void, to Oblivion, only then could she be free of the affliction of the mortal coil, only then would she understand.

Time to accept your place, time to embrace your fear.

It is time to die my dear, tis all to clear.

[Molly]

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*She awakes from a dead sleep and shakes, feeling as if death has touched her with it's icy fingers*
_________________
Grand Duchess Molly Kaldhel
Oracle of Truth
The House Gauntlet
Sanctus, Luna, Malas
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xXoGDbJ5nLU
_______________________
"In politics, if you want anything said, ask a man. If you want anything done, ask a woman."
-Margaret Thatcher-

[The Squirrels]

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A noise awoke Sorrel from his slumber, in one of the Lady Molly's shoes. He peered around the room cautiously, hair on end along his back, his tail gone stiff.

Then he heard it again, from the bed. He climbed out of the shoe and hopped onto the bed.

The Lady Molly was tossing and turning in her sleep. There was groaning and despair in her voice.

Sorrel hung his head low, for there was nothing he could do to ward off bad dreams. All he could do was just what he did do. He nuzzled her cheek, comfortingly, as if she were one of his young squirrels. He tugged the blanket higher around her neck and patted her shoulder, gently.

Poor thing. She has seen and been through so much. Now, her own dreams do not even give her quarter.

As he stood watching over her the rest of the night, some of what she muttered floated over to him where he sat, on a chair. He barely heard her words, and still wasn't able to comprehend them. But the force of fear behind which they were spoken made him uneasy, and sent chills down his spine.

He held tighter to his bow and quiver. He vowed all the firmer to keep a warm and friendly eye upon her.
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Chitter chitter chippa chip