To Be A Harbinger

To Be A Harbinger, pt. 4

Lucille woke up on the floor. Scaramouche was no where to be seen, but there were signs he had stayed the night, slept in her bed while leaving her on the floor. She flinched when she remembered what had happened. Her hole still ached from the abuse, and her side was absolutely awful. She gathered up her clothes and walked the short hallway into the showers.

Pulcinella didn't comment when he saw her limp, but he knew as well as her it wasn't the same one she had before. She was thankful her hair was long. She slowly made her way to the stall marked with a 12, stepping in and setting her clothes down before turning on the water.

She hissed at the coldness of it on her wounds. There was a long mirror occupying the entirety of one wall, and she wondered if everyone in this damn country was as obsessed with their reflection as Scaramouche seemed.

She did her best to clean her wounds. It was obvious which ones were Tartaglia's and which ones were Scara's. The blunt force of his hydro vision and the spreading lines of his electro delusion were obvious enough. She wondered if Scaramouche would let her heal before marking her with his own vision. Surely he'd want to tell his own power from Tartaglia's.

She inspected the bites and bruises all over her neck. They were mostly shallow, but one on her left was sure to leave a scar. She realized it was the first one. The first time he bit her last night, he had intended to leave a mark. The others were just a side note of his sadism.

She washed herself quickly and made a grab for her clothes. Despair settled through her when she realized what must have happened. Sure enough, Scaramouche walked in shortly after, watching her carefully. She saw the intrigue on his face as he saw Tartaglia's lightning bruises and burns, his eyes dancing over the abused wound in her side before scanning her neck and shoulders.

He took his hat off and set it on the bench. He stood stone still as he watched her in silence. The water wasn't running, and she thought twice about turning it on. While the sound would alleviate the tension a little bit, the movement might set him off, and she wasn't very fond of the hydro-electro elemental reaction.

He finally nodded, sitting down. "Heal your wound."

Lucille didn't say anything as she activated her vision-it was in a small shelf in the stall, she had learned her lesson about parting with it months ago. She sighed as the wound began to heal properly, from the inside out. She stitched her insides back together with practiced ease, and soon, all that remained of it was the scar.

Scaramouche nodded. "Come here."

She stepped out of the stall, and took the short step up to him. He patted his lap. She realized that when he allowed her to heal herself, she'd also successfully dried herself off. Lucille didn't say anything as she straddled him.

He nodded, dazed out as he lightly massaged her boobs. She closed her eyes, content to the softness of his hands for now, even if it was doomed to end. "I acted harshly last night."

Lucille snapped her eyes to his. Was this supposed to be an apology? She didn't say anything.

He tweaked a nipple, making her gasp. He smiled. "I shouldn't have left you like that. Although, you must understand I was very upset over the fact you had disobeyed me."

Lucille was quiet for a moment before she dared to speak. "Becoming a harbinger had nothing to do with you."

"Didnt it, though? 'Either I'll die in the arena or you'll finally have to show me some respect." He chuckled at her response to him quoting her, mixed with her response to him pulling on a nipple. "I have a habit of breaking my toys. I'd rather not break you so soon."

"What, so you're just going to save me up for later?" Lucille couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Something like that." He mused, squeezing the soft flesh under his hands. "I'd like to push you, to see how far I can push you before you break."

"Say what you mean or don't say anything." Lucille said flatly.

Scaramouche chuckled, leaning down to suck one of her nipples into his mouth. He rolled his tongue over it before biting lightly. If it weren't for his hands holding her up, she would've slipped off of his lap. He was being so gentle, Lucille almost could ignore the meaning behind his words. The illusion was shattered when he bit down hard. She cried out. She fell forward and clung onto Scaramouche's shoulders as he changed sides, using the same soft technique to coax her back into a false sense of security before he bit down again.

He moved up, kissing the bite that had scarred over. He kissed her neck, her jaw, and then her cheek before he pulled away. "Let's make a bet."

"A bet?" She frowned. She wasn't very fond of her chances in a bet against the more experienced man. He was sure to pick something she had no chance of winning.

He nodded. "A game of sorts. We kiss, flirt, steal moments like these, and whoever falls in love first loses."

"Those rules aren't very defined." She shifted her weight on his lap. His hands felt for her hips and held her still.

"Then define them. What are your conditions?" He said simply.

"My family. No matter what, you leave my sisters out of your damned games." She said quickly. Scaramouche nodded. She went on, "And I want to know your real name."

Scaramouche frowned. "That's reasonable. Although, there isn't much you could do with my name. My family is dead anyway. As for the game, anything is fair. The only rules are simple, neither of us can be intimate with anyone else, and if one of us falls in love, the game is off."

"No conditions?" She asked.

"I simply want you to play." He smiled.

"What happens to the loser?"

Scaramouche tilted his head. "Well, naturally, if I win, I'm going to break you into the perfect little bitch. I suppose you can choose what would happen if you managed to win."

Lucille stared at him for a moment before lazily trailing one hand up to play with his hair. "If I win, you're gonna wish you'd never came up with this dumb game."

"Is that so?" He rolled his eyes.

"Mhm."

"And what makes you so sure?" He laughed at her confidence.

"Because I hate you. You were my best friend, Scara, but you've gone and ruined it. I'll never love you." She tangled her hand in his hair and pulled his head back. He made a cute little yell of surprise when she pressed her lips to his for the first time. She smiled against his lips. "Watching you fall in love with me and then realize you'll never have me is going to be every bit the best reward."

"I'm flattered you thought so highly of me. It was fun to shatter the illusion." He laughed, cupping the back of her neck.

She kissed him again. "Game on."