Onism

Chapter 18: Rotten Reverie

I listlessly followed the storm through wooden carved halls, and up marble stairs till we began to enter the upper level of the base I'd been taken to.

As we got to higher levels the base began to turn into an opulent mansion. Shiny jewels and chandeliers, traditional Russian rugs laid over the walls. Blue and red swirls spinning over pale wooden walls with windowsills cut out into curled edges.

My flames had long since skimmed past Sonechka's halo.

The storm in front of me had yet to say anything else before he spoke again once we reached a mahogany door with a golden door nob.
The door was otherwise unassuming. Something you'd pass over if you were here for the first time.

"Be respectful cloud. Pakhan will not tolerate disobedience."

The storm knocked on the door thrice before pulling his arm back to his side.

The door cracked open, a man with black curls and brown eyes peeking through. Flames of rain washed over me, the taste of menthol spreading over the corners of my mind. The menthol gave an unpleasant burn in my body.

"Vitya, -"

So the storms name is Vitya.

"Come in."

The door opened wider and curls as I've now dubbed stepped to the side.

The storm - Vitya grabbed my arm and pulled me in the room after him.
The moment I crossed the door the effect hit me.

Molten sugar sloshed over my being. The feathers of flames becoming sticky with the tar like substance, my downy feathers becoming knotted together with the molasses. A false sense of acceptance and safety muddling my mind and leaving me feeling high on ecstasy. The combo of impotent sadness getting drowned by the syrup.

I hate them.

Violet feathers burst forth from the coated layer.
The layer of tar rotting away and joining back to its sticky sweet source. Dragging bits of corrupted cloud flames with it. The blue and chartreuse fragments giving hollow wails.

That fucking hurt. It burned like I'd been scorched by the sun, acid having spread over the parts where I had already felt raw. My cloud flames leapt to the places where I was cracked open and sealed them swiftly.

My numb and dull eyes darted around the room . A dark toned throne, red velvet padding splayed across the mahogany wood. A desk of the same wood with stacks of paper scattered across it. An inkwell and quill settled beside each other. Their was a dark tinted window behind the desk, no doubt a one way window. Pretty traditional rugs hung from the left and right walls, showing murals of beast across the northern wilderness. Beutiful.
All and all the presentation of the room was enchanting.

But the prettiest thing in the room was the platinum blonde my eyes had passed over.
The boy in the chair had hair close to the color of what Vanya himself use to have. Pretty light pastel orange globes peering out of narrowed eyes. Pretty pale lashes framed the Pakhan's eyes.
Identical beauty marks were pressed against the flesh under both eyes . His skin was pale, looking close to powdered sugar, dashes of light pink coloring his cheeks, lips, and nose. His jaw was sharp but his cheeks had a small amount of baby fat left. He was probably around 5'4.

His dress of ware was unique and traditional. A black strelet coat splayed over his form. The buttons that striped across the center of his sternum, ribs, and tummy being a bright orange gold. The black strelet had a big bright orange strip of fabric cinching the waist. The black fabric that was connected to the top led into a split skirt that touched his ankles. Underneath the skirt were a pair of pants the color of snow. Black ribbons adorned his ankles. He wore black heeled ankle boots with shiny orange buttons keeping them latched . On his hands were a pair of black gloves with glittery buttons.