She who Ensnared Death
Written for my Dearest Love

Osiris looked around at the snow swept clearing that his instincts had pushed him to go to. It seemed a rather ordinary place; somewhere that you wouldn’t expect the God of Death to go to. However, that is where he now stood. Something had told him to come here to discover something, but unfortunately whatever pushed him wasn’t very specific. He stepped further into the clearing, marring the purity of the snow with his footsteps, while his black eyes searched carefully for anything that might end this.

It wasn’t until he looked around for a second time, did he notice that this place wasn’t as ordinary as he had first assumed. A beautiful young woman was lying amidst the crystal snowflakes; her raven hair spread out like a hellish halo about her sleeping face. She wore a long crimson gown that usually would have marked her as a harlot, but that instead seemed to bring out more of her beauty. He could tell from looking at her even from a distance that she was a born noble, someone born into beauty and safe from poverty. Osiris stepped closer, entranced by this strange woman. Soon, he could make out the blood that coated her form and the death that embraced her beauty.

Osiris stood over her with a sense of loss overtaking him. He did not know who this woman was and yet that was not a detail that mattered. She was dead, and hence, she was his. However, he was not satisfied with just owning her in this aspect, as an eternal slave due to her condition. Something told him that as a living being, this woman was made of fire and would seek avidly to defy him. It was very appealing.

But how is Death supposed to give or even return live when it is not his to hold in the first place?

Unexpectedly, Osiris found himself kneeling in the snow, ignoring the thick chill that seeped into his clothing. His body moved while his mind watched. The same instinct that had led him here was also guiding his present movements, offering the solution to his problem. Though he could not give her true life; he could give her the illusion of it. He offered a new form of death that he was inspired to create just for her. Osiris kissed her and in exchange for the blood she had lost in death, he gave her but a few droplets of his own black blood. She would not live again, but instead she would thrive in death. It was the only thing he could offer her. And though he had yet to hear her voice or feel her willing touch, he feared already that it would never be enough.

For but a few moments though, Osiris was surprised to feel that nothing else in the world mattered to him but this strange woman. He didn’t know her name of anything else about her, but he found himself falling for her. Osiris wanted her to smile, to laugh, to get angry, to exist. He wanted her to have being more than he wanted anything else in his lonely existence. Even if it meant he would not exist, Osiris would make sure she did.

Osiris could feel before she stirred that she was stealing away all of his energy. Death was never meant to create; it’s meant to take away. He had to disappear before he could she woke up, but the he gave her ensured that he would find her again.

Lexa Frei awoke with an unbearable thirst, shortly after her abnormal benefactor disappeared. Her body ached as she woke from her death, and her mind could not comprehend how such movements were possible anymore. She distinctly remembered the feel of a foreign blade ravishing her body, and the sound of her sister’s screams as she died. There was an even hazier memory of the snow softening her blow and of the image of her attacker running away into the woods.
Lexa was so hungry, but not hungry enough that she couldn’t be picky. Being of the Frei family offered her that rare chance. It offered her revenge. Her senses were sharper though she knew not how or why, but using them, she could pinpoint where her murderer was. She could already taste his blood upon her lips. Nothing mattered but that taste and that feeling of death lying in her hands. He would die.
Her steps were quick as she maneuvered through the forest toward the man she most wanted to feast upon. Lexa could taste the blood in the air, and it hungered her even as she realized who the owner was. Anger clouded her judgments further and encouraged her hunger. The blood smelled too sweet to belong to anyone else. Nothing in the world would be able to save this man now.

Her mind didn’t get a chance to take in the situation before she pounced, ravishing her prey’s throat with newly developed fangs. She never really saw the man, but instead allowed her other senses to find him; hearing, touch, smell, and taste. The blood tasted sweet and coppery on her tongue, and she found herself lulled by the taste. Her prey never got a chance to scream; Lexa had ripped out his throat before she could do that. She dropped the corpse into the snow only after her hunger had been tamed for the moment, and with a scarlet smirk, she turned to look at her wounded sister.

Her twin sister gaped at her from a silver stained spot in the cold winter snow. Tears trickled down her face. She seemed to be in shock, in a state of both relief and horror. A moment passed and neither sister moved or said anything. Then Seria moved, forgetting her wounds and embracing her older sister in a tight hug. More tears flowed from her green eyes as she realized that she hadn’t quite lost the one she cared for the most.

And Death watched on ready to make a move…

This post has been edited by Seria Draconis on Mar 23 2009, 11:54 PM