CONSUMING HEAVEN. [Skye]

[Manic]

He watched from the cover of the shadows, feeling his heart humming in his chest. He could hear the whisper of thoughts ebbing and flowing from his followers that were spread out to either side of him, taking up their positions. The sand shifted under his boots, and he could almost imagine the blood that would soon saturate that dry, dry earth.

He could sense that she was near, just waiting for him. He could feel it, could feel her blood thrumming through her veins; he could feel her heart thudding in her chest, calling out for him with every beat.

He had to have her, there was no question. And as long as she was here, surrounded by her weak army that believed themselves to be strong, he couldn’t have her. She was theirs; she was their haven, their symbol of peace and security. But so they would fall as their name so aptly labeled their demise.

He waited until the silvery light of the moon faded behind the clouds, and a shadow of darkness fell like a curtain across the land. His hands were already stained with the blood of the Fallen night-watch, only a sign of what was to come. As the last of the light disappeared he signaled the advance, shifting fluidly as he charged forward in silence, the falls of his heavy paws muffled by the sifting sand. To either side his Carna streamed out beside him, spattered in paint and mud as they advanced upon the ramshackle hovel the Fallen called their home. It was only a matter of moments before the alarm was raised and the Fallen were stumbling out of their beds, straight into the claws of the waiting Carna.

Manic ignored the cries of the Fallen intermingled with the war-howls of his Ring and headed for her room, guided more by instinct than sight. He drew to a stop before her train car, a shiver running through his body as he shifted back and advanced up the stairs, raising a hand and rapping a knuckle on the metal door. “Darling,” he said with a delightfully cheery voice, back-lit by the clamor of claws and blades. “It's time we had a talk, don't you think?"

[Skye [RIP]]

Electric eyes flashed open to the loud patter of rain, a rarity in their territory. She jumped up on her feet and just as soon as she realized what was happening, a knock came at her door. The rain had drown out their coming until it was too late. She heard the voice and her heart dropped, and with out a thought, she leaped up from box to box and punched open the small ceiling exit. Effortlessly, she jumped on top of the box car, looking down on Manic, looking around her to see her Fallen in few numbers waking and fighting, screaming from the torment of the Carna. She locked eyes with Manic, wet hair whipping to the left in the loud wind. She said not a word, but her gaze turned from love to hatred...such a fragile line.
You'll regret this... She thought. But she knew of no true feelings behind such reptilian eyes. She let her rage consume her. Her body twisted and enlarged unnaturally into a feral beast, her battle cry morphing into a massive roar.
Memories flashed before her eyes, of him, of her love for him, and of his obsession with her that she had fed. Their history ran so deep that from the start she had doomed her own ring. Every drop of blood shed tonight was her fault.
These pulsing thoughts manifested in pain and the tiger screeched mid-air, falling to the earth clumsily and holding it's head with clawed paws.
Blood seeped from those spots as the form shrunk into a petite woman.
She'd lost control.... but she had never lost control in an opposite manner. She tried to find the hatred for the being before her- the rage to morph her, but what she hated was herself.
This creature- this Manic- this love- what had he done but what she should have expected? The small figured leaped forward with small fists, determined to give him a fight of his life- determined to find her rage.

[Manic]

It seemed some type of irony that a storm would choose to strike just then---or perhaps it was the Keeper doing. They had a strange sense of dedication to setting the atmosphere of fights, cuing rainstorms and lightning strikes at just the right moments. It was all quite spectacular, he supposed, depending on which side of the wall you were sitting.

He heard her rummaging around inside the traincar, but a rumble of thunder obstructed his hearing further. He listened for her thoughts, but could hear only the screeches of rage that intermingled with the screams all around them. He could hear some of the Fallen around him trying to rally, trying to find Skye. He saw her fall to the ground behind him, and turned calmly to face her, expecting a fight. But what he saw only made him laugh. She seemed so small and pathetic, laying on the ground, clawing her own flesh till she bled, like she had done so many times before. Seeing her bring harm to herself still brought a bubble of anger, a knot formed in his throat and he wanted to shake her until she stopped.

He descended the stairs and met her, though easily side-stepped her feeble attack. "You hear them, Skye? Calling out to you?" he said, ignoring the roar of the rain and keeping his voice smooth, even. He knew that she would be able to hear him. "They know you are the only one who can stop this," he said with some kind of smile, waiting for her next move. "I think you know it too."

[Skye [RIP]]

She calculated the way he looked at her, and stood taller, chin up and shoulders back. Despite her size, she never felt small, and he knew better than to underestimate her as well. But his words picked her brain, and he was right. She already knew it, but she didn't want to accept it. Her Fallen were strong. They could defeat these imbeciles beside her. Ghostly eyes flickered to the right, almost on cue, as a Carna tiger ripped a child's throat out, who fell limp immediately.
"Manic!" She growled impatiently, not allowing the panic to show in her narrowed eyes and not allowing the pain in her heart scream in her expressions. "What do you want?" She snarled and spat at him disrespectfully. She jumped forward to push at him again, and then again.
"What is it?!" There was a threat in her tone.
She pushed him against the train-car and pressed her lips to his, biting violently at the end of the kiss- enough to draw blood with any mercy.
"What?!" She reached up to slap him. She wasn't playing nice and she was also stalling.

[Manic]

He followed her gaze and watched the child fall to the ground, blood pooling in the already rain-soaked sand. His Carna paused for a moment as if contemplating what it had done, but it caught his gaze upon it and moved on into the fray. Manic nodded and watched as the child continued to bleed, almost enraptured by the slow spreading the dark liquid, even amongst the torrents of rain. It was always such a strange, beautiful thing to watch death unfold, in all its shapes and forms.

But then she was moving again and drew his attention back to her, slightly disgruntled that he'd been distracted from his quarry in the first place. "You know what I want, Skye. You've always known." He said, allowing her to shove him backwards, relishing in the supposedly punishing blows. she was so small, seemed so frail. But he'd always loved the strength in her, loved to watch her fight. She was his to conquer, to control, to destroy if he wanted with a simple wave of his hand. She knew, she /had/ to know. It's what made her so purely enchanting, so delectably his. She knew what he wanted, and yet she came back time and time again.

"You know what I am," he said, laughing as she shoved him against the traincar and covered his mouth with hers in some twisted attempted at a kiss. He pulled away with a laugh. "You know exactly what I'm here for." Her teeth sank into his lip, the tang of coppery blood tickling along his tongue. He didn't fight, didn't much react until she slapped him. A low sound akin to a snarl rumbled in his throat, gripping her scarred arms in his hands, sinking his nails into her white flesh until blood welled around his fingernails. "Enough games, Skye," he said, holding her at arms length and twisting her around so she was pinned against the car this time. He slammed her roughly against the metal siding, willing her body to break. "You can end this if you want, right now. You can stop the bloodshed, once and for all, and give your precious little Fallen a chance at peace. I won't harm another hair on their precious little heads, I swear it." he said, just inches from her face. "But you know the price, my dearest. You have always known."

[Skye [RIP]]

She writhed and snarled in his grip stubbornly, seeming thin and frail as he slammed her roughly back. She watched him silently, but just because she was silent did not mean this land was. His voice caressed her nightmares and then clenched down. She cried out against him, stifling the the sobs that threatened to shake her frame. Her plump lips shivered lightly, pearly teeth clenched with strength. Her love for her people exceeded that of anything else. Every ounce of strength and animal-monstrosity with in her proved useless. Certainly she could take him down- to an extent. But he would come back. Again and again. Until the Fallen had no people to speak of. As she thought about this, the arms he held so tight warmed up and seeped into his hands- a sensual, warm, and strange sensation that only healer's and drainer's could create.
His eyes filled her gaze and tested her passions. She thought of the tiny baby with translucent, blue eyes to match her own, in the hands of Manic's own son- Adison. Her own baby blues grew tired and the warmth surged with a power that could overwhelm even the weakest of beings needy health and energy.
This sacrifice would bring so much life- her ring would be safe. He would not bother them with out her.
Her raven hair stuck to her white collar bones, a mane of demonically gorgeous locks. "I will end this." She surrendered, and with another surge of warmth, she grew limp and weak in his arms. The mental will to continue to drain herself of life challenged her more than the act itself. "End this." There was a beauty in the simplicity of who she was- a beauty in looking as sincere and sweet as she did years back as a tenderfoot. Her cheeks were rose-y pink, and her long, dark lashes batted against them. The strength behind her eyes left her for the first time. Her lips parted just lightly, and the light blue disappeared behind soft, weak eye-lids. Her heart ceased to have the strength to beat, and finally her breath stopped, and she stirred no more.

[Manic]

He could see her fighting grow weak, and knew that she understood. She would come with him, back to the Carna; she would do the moral thing, sacrifice herself for the good of her people. It would be a happiness he had only known in Leila, a happiness that he had spent years crafting. Skye was his own creation now, a woman who fought against him yet silently yearned for his control, knowing that he was the answer to her suffering, her solitude. He could heal just as easily as he could destroy, and she knew deep down that she needed him.

Her thoughts flooded slowly into his mind, though he tried to block them out, confident that he knew her well enough not to rely on the cheap tricks the Keeper's had played on him. But something leaked into his mind, a vision that took him by surprise, confused him. The image of his son cradling an infant child, of Skye watching over them. Why would she be thinking of Reagan, the child his son had lost? He stared down at her in confusion, for once in his life unable to speak. Did she blame him for the child's death? He was consumed in her vision trying to discern if it really was his grandchild, or something else entirely.

But then it melted away and her voice shook him from his focus, and he could feel the warmth of her touch against his skin, even through the cold rain that by now had saturated his clothes. They clung to him, chilling him to the bone; but her touch spread warmth into his body, coursing through his system and making his body feel more alive than it had in years. He squeezed his eyes shut, hands freeing his grip on her as he tried to fight it off and wrestle free of her grip but he was unable to fight it, unable to resist the warmth and comfort spreading through him. It overwhelmed him, this sudden burst of energy and strength, his vision swimming with /her/ thoughts that grew dimmer and dimmer.

His eyes snapped open when he realized what she was doing, and with a violent cry wrenched himself free of her grip, but it was a moment too late—she crumpled to the ground. “Damn you,” he hissed, rage broiling in his belly, rising up and tightening in his chest. He fell to his knees at her side, grabbing her limp body and savagely turning her on her back, folding his hands over her chest as he started compressions. He pressed hard, savage and unforgiving he felt a rib snap as he tried to force her heart beating. It would not end like this—she didn’t have the right to do this, not to him. Not after all he had done. He was the one who would end it. He was the one who was supposed to destroy her—that was always how it had been, how it always would’ve played out.

He leaned down and parted her lips, breathing air into her lungs. He heard the battle growing closer around them, the Carna obviously falling back and doing as they had been instructed—forming a protective ring around Skye’s train-car to give Manic as much time as he could get with her. He kept trying to bring her back around, unable to yield. Unable to admit that she had trumped him, cut him off from what he had most sought in the world. She wouldn’t die, not now. Not like this. If she left this world, it would be by his hand. She would suffer, she would beg, and he would deny her even then.
With one last breath of air into her lungs, he felt her sputter back to life, saw her chest rise and fall in a slow, shallow breath.

“You’ll pay for that,” he hissed, grabbing a fistful of hair at the scalp and dragging her to her feet. He dragged her further out into the circle of the battle, both sides growing tired of the fight. They paused for a moment as he dragged her, stumbling to the center and threw her at his feet, pressing a boot down on her chest, just hard enough to keep her down. “It’s about time you Fallen learned your lesson,” he said. "And they say the best leaders lead by example!" he said with a rasping laugh as he leaned pulled his knife from its sheath and pulled Skye to her feet again by the hair, and held the knife to her neck. "Any last words of wisdom, my love?"

[Skye [RIP]]

Her eyes fluttered open weakly, feeling a sharp pain at her ribs. "How lovely." She smiled deliriously, purring at the sight of his face. Her smile disappeared and she yelped when he yanked her up. She coughed as she was dragged into the circle of the fray. She could hear the battle cries go silent, all eyes on her, but could hardly keep up with the happenings. She was so...weak. She hit the earth and whimpered, not gathering the strength to fight. Fight! She stirred and wriggled, her head falling to one side to look up and see him, his shirt clinging to his skin. She bit her lip, aching for the heroic figure standing above her. "...?" She blushed prettily, seeing in doubles. The armies around them, silently watching, were all in doubles and blurry. Her hand brushed her moist face gently until her gaze fell back upon his muscled body, trapped there to crave and stir.
A small, animalistic sound of agony escaped her lips when he yanked her back up.
She started laughing, a painful, denial sort of laugh. Tears stung her eyes but she continued to laugh almost drunkenly. "My dear..." Her hungry eyes watched him. "Oh, my dear..." Her eyes were sweet and lively again despite her weakness. She leaned forward enough for the knife to draw blood from her neck, pressing her lips firmly and sweetly against his. He was so warm and soft, her own skin like satin against his. She could hear his heart-beat. His temper was intoxicating to her at the moment, though her mind scrambled to recollect information. A Carna stepped forward to assist Manic defensively and Skylar Anne Faye growled possessively. It was frightening enough to stop the Carna female in her tracks. Skye's eyes returned to looking human. She longed for more- for his touch- for his love. She opened her mouth, feeling the warm moistness of his tongue. That warm sensation returned- this time in his lips, and she stole him of some energy and health. It was enough to stand straight and strong, to look over the bloodied faces of her beautiful ring. 'Any last words of wisdom, my love?'
The blood trickled from the shallow wound on her neck. Her vision cleared. All were silent- all eyes on her. She spoke up, loud enough for everyone, as proud and intellectual as she had always been- solidly and lovingly leading.
"The best leaders lead by example." She repeated, glancing at him, no expression upon her face. "A sacrifice of love is the greatest gift of all."
They all stared, waiting, confused. She turned swiftly and athletically kicked the knife out of Manic's hand before kicking at his gut and pouncing for the knife. She snatched it up, dizzy for a moment. The fight was back with in her. 'Fight'. She snarled viciously and swiftly approached Manic, jutting the knife out towards him offensively. She paused, glancing behind him at the faces of her ring. Her greatest loves. The best leaders lead by example... His voice echoed her thoughts. She had lead them long enough for them to have learned of strength, of power used for the right reasons, of intellect, and of love conquering all.
In one, smooth motion, she grabbed the knife with two tiny fists and turned it around, embedding it deep in the flesh just below her chest and dragging it down to her hips. Blood flowed down her body, bright and brilliant against her white clothing. Her cries faded and she fell limp to the earth. She saw in doubles again, looking around dizzily at the beautiful faces of her beloved ring who fought so bravely for her and for themselves. But with her around, they would never be free of the constant attacks- of constant life losses. She half-smiled very weakly before fading back out... this time her brilliant blues remained open, never to lose the fight with in her again.
A small Fallen child walked up and knelt down beside her leader, brave under Manic's eyes and everyone else's. She touched Skye's eye-lids and pulled them down peacefully, little arms wrapping around her leader. The rest of the Fallen closed in around Skye protectively, a few more kneeling beside her limp, broken, lifeless body.

[Manic]

Though she had never shied from such passion towards him, Manic was taken aback when she twisted in his grasp just to kiss him. There was a ripple of murmurs and gasps in the stunned soldiers around them that had been turned into some sort of twisted audience, spellbound by the electricity between their respective leaders. Manic didn’t pull back from her touch, from her kiss, but he didn’t lean into it. The softness of her flesh against his was appealing and he strove to steel himself to his desire. He yielded in the slightest, lips parting, but fingers tightening on the hilt of the blade held against her neck. She was his ambrosia, her scent intoxicated him. He loved her as much as he could love a human, loved her in the only way he understood. But the gentleness of her kiss, the strange timing had him suspicious and he let out a low rumble of displeasure. Eris, ever his faithful servant, stepped forward and attempted to intervene.

Skye stopped her with a glare and a snarl, and Manic let out an amused chuckle, but his amusement was cut off when she leaned in again. He dug the blade into her neck as she deepened the kiss, warning her as he felt that strange tingle and his vision blurred as the world hazed for just a moment—he knew he’d drained him, sapped some of his energy. She spoke, then, her voice quiet. "The best leaders lead by example. A sacrifice of love is the greatest gift of all." Manic grinned wolfishly at her statement, knowing just how much “love” she had sacrificed for her Ring.

He was about to say exactly that when she moved, lightning fast as she had always been. She twisted from his grip and her foot connected with his hand and the blade landed in the sand. What happened next happened so quickly he could hardly comprehend; he was doubled over from her blow to his midsection, reaching for the knife. The next thing he knew she had the knife, and was grinning again in anticipation of their battle as she advanced towards him with knife outstretched. But then the blade was twirling in her nimble fingers and he was rushing towards her even as the blade sank into her chest and he dragged it down. He reached her in time to catch the blade as she dropped it and fell to the ground.

He twirled the blade deftly, kneeling next to her for a moment as she continued to breathe for a few moments before the last breath rattled from her. His hands trembled as he slowly raised the blade, prepared to carve into her flesh, leave his mark. He had wanted her to suffer; wanted to make her scream like only he could. She was the only one, the only one who knew him. And he’d wanted to make her beg for forgiveness for that knowledge. She needed to bleed, and he needed to drink until he felt sated. He raised the blade higher, wanting to cut her open and explore the insides. See how she worked, what made her tick, what made her so damned irresistible. He wanted to feel her blood on his hands as he had done so many times before, to sink his teeth into her flesh and feed until the hunger was gone.

But it would never be gone, it would never be sated.

Manic lowered the blade, reaching out with his other hand to gently touch the blood soaked cloth, dipping his fingers in that most sacred, most cursed blood. He rose to his feet and stood back as the lone Fallen girl walked past his row of Carna and kneeled next to her Alpha. Manic simply watched, Skye’s blood still dripping from his fingers as her ring encircled their fallen leader, ready to defend her even in death. They understood her sacrifice, knew that everything she had lived for, she had died for; and for the briefest of moment’s Manic understood.

But their tears were as lost on him as they were in the rain as he turned and signaled for his Carna to go. “Leave the supplies,” he said to his Carna as they began to pick up the rewards of their attack. “They’ll need them.” With that, he turned and left the woman that had consumed his thoughts for eight years to rest in peace, as much as he knew she would haunt his dreams.

[Manic]

-- END THREAD --

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