writers_muses 140.3 Butterflies

[melek_taus]

"The flesh of the Earth, all worn away, thin.
The seconds stone cold in a moment gone dim.
A plunge into Darkness and Vanity’s grasp
Where faces haunt mirrors trapped in by the past." -' Butterflies' by the Eden House

(Events occurring after this thread)

Now attired properly as a royal lady of the Unseelie Court, Melek Taus watched Amarante slip through a doorway within the hall of mirrors. The black pearls and diamonds on her draped gown wrapped her form, put into place with articulate hands and attention to detail. She was, no longer a doll made up into something she was not to be broken from her crysalis, transformed once agian into a dark butterfly.

Even at the last she managed to give him a coquettish glance, her face still flushed, her body still taut, nipples erect. By her scent, he knew she had not been unaffected by what had passsed between them.

To his mind, Amarante was talented, but there were just some things that even the best actors and actresses could not feign. He was uncertain that he would see her this night as he bade her to do. The Grigori did not care. She had alerted him to the trap of the Seelie and their infinite plots woven in the pretense of ultimate good that far too many had been taken in by over many millennia.

He gave no indication that he knew that he and Amarante had been accutely observed not only by Faelyn, Jocelyn and her consort, but by their enemies. He straightened his garments once more, and looked unpreterbed as he reached the door. He would stay away from the royal family for a time.

So the Seelie and their conspirators meant to entrap him and take the rest, he mused. They would have to be far more duplicitous than they had been in the past. In spite of Seelie attempts at deception, the message that Amarante had passed to him through each touch, each gaze, each kiss and sigh had been received. Hers was a singular talent in that regard that few, human or Fae possesed.

Now they would play out the larger game.

Muse Melek Taus / The Peacock Angel
Fandom: Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 362
Crossposted to writers_muses

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[melek_taus]

Even among the sharp, rhythmic shrieks of frogs that sat alongside the water's edge of the reflecting pool, the Peacock Angel heard Amarante's soft giggle, a splash could have been a large bullfrog but he suspected it part of her game.

Even the long grass in need of trimming and the sweet scented moss and loam did not hide her entirely. He caught sight of a small glitter in the moonlight. Was it an animal lying in wait or more likely the eye of the one he was hunting for? Even as an demon, one accustomed to the creatures of the Dark both from the Underworld and of the Fae, he couldn't be entirely sure.

To test his theory, he turned away from the tiny sliver of light that had caught his attention to take a couple of steps toward a Persian silk tree, laden with feathery pink flowers that were redolent with perfume. Just as he did so, and if he was right, she would move once again. If not, he would continue to hunt for her.

Melek wanted to win the game, but rather than claim the prize from her unwillingly, he wanted, hoped that she would come to him willingly, wager or no. He indulged himself in the thought of her wanting him, the tenderness that had passed between him when she touched his wings, and as he was about to lose himself in his reverie, he heard and sensed movement among the sweet scent of night blooming lillies.

[sunandshadows]

Once she moved the spell was broken, and in a flash her disguise gone. In Mara's hands were a dozen - no more - lilly blossoms that she'd begun weaving to a turquoise jade vine, already adorned with night-blooming Cereus, Juliet roses, Moonflowers and Saffron Crocus. With a whisper of silk she rose to her feet and snuck slowly up onr the fallen angel. Still, he was ahead of her, Melek hadn't turned his head around yet. And the tree he was under had just the right florets to finish the flower coronet that her fingers were already braiding together.

The grass was soft under the faeling's feet. Here, even in the overgrown and somewhat isolated garden of the palais, though all manner of plantlife was running wild, it had magical, ethereal beauty that was only enhanced by moonlight and shadows. The wild rose bushes, entwined with each other, created a hedge that was alive with heady scent and needle-sharp barbs. These she avoided for now; what she held in her hands - though smaller and more delicate - were far more rare and exquisite.

Her heart was racing, every sense alive and alert. The moon, the warmth of the night; the shadows and silver light; the garden secrets and the man she stalked as she crept on bare feet behind him. Ah, he was turning! Duck or hide? Quick what to do?

Mara chose to laugh and raise her hands up, crowning the Grigori with a living coronet of beautiful flowers.

"Did I not promise to crown you this night, Melek?"

[melek_taus]

The flowers were heavy with the scent of their own inherrent perfume and the dusky scent of the loam of the long untended garden floor.

The Lord of the Grigori's strong hands to pull Amarante to himself. If he had thought about it, he would have had to admit that his arms had ached to encircle the familiar curves and warmth of her body. He felt the rise and fall of breath filling her lungs then releasing once again. He could feel the pounding of her pulse as she rested the crown upon his head, a singular mark of favor from her to him.

"You did indeed," he smiled down at her, "But your flowers are not the only gift this night."

He picked her up in his arms. He could have lain her down in a bed of lillies and taken her there, but somehow, he knew that there were still likely prying eyes. The Fae were never shy about intimate things between themselves, but somehow this was different. For Amarante's entire life he had done what Watchers do - he had watched and been involved in her upbringing. Now a child no longer, he would not hurry what would come next between them.

[sunandshadows]

"No, they are not." Did he win? Did she? Both, she decided to herself; they both won. Fingers reached up, adjusted the crown on Melek's head from where it had been tilting to the side; and as her arm lowered the faeling rested her fingers against the side of his cheek for a moment before she dropped it to her side.

Melek wasn't over-powerful looking; he was more lean with long runner's muscles and yet he held her like she'd been holding the lilies in her hand - easily. "No" Mara agreed with him. "Not the only. And not the first, but most certainly not the last." The tips of her bare toes swept over a patch of high, night-blooming flowers and the faeling impulsively stretched out one foot to try and touch a single petal as the fallen angel carried her back through the garden. Mara giggled, then giggled harder at the look Melek gave her, and flashed him a bright smile.

His crown was slipping again, it gave the Grigori a rakish look, and in retrospect the faeling decided that she liked him that way. It skewed his cultured, suave look and gave him an aura of something a little less civilized and more wild; for all that those were flowers and vines upon his brow.

The gate was left open, the walk back filled attempts at conversation inter-spaced with laughter and lighthearted retorts until once more they were in Melek's room, only steps from where they'd started. And only a few more steps to his bed.