Mystical Tantra | bxb

Chapter 9, Blessing

He swore he would've obliged. It was just that he was too scared to move. Being thrown from the best moment ever into the depths of hell again wasn't easy on his nerves. The purple lips looked like they belonged to somebody who had died from cold a few hours ago and reminded him of the state he was in after drinking the wine. Don't start on the gory sight. It seemed like the mouth and thoat were cut out of somebody and were now flying and moving in front of him. The outside looked drenched in blood like red meat and each vein was visible and pulsing. It was slow too or maybe that was just compared to his own dangerously fast heartbeat. His blood was loudly rushing in his ears like waves but in a bad way. Like he was flailing in a violent river with nothing to hold on to and seconds away from reaching the end. 
The end that was a high waterfall.

Appearantly he stood frozen for a moment too long because the next thing he saw was it coming torwards him like a flying snake. Winged snake since the voice strings were vibrating again in an effort to form words. "As you wish."

'I wish to not exist in this pain..' He thought, scared shitless. Then he remembered one had to be careful what to wish for. The sharp teeth quickly reached him and bit his throat!

A startled yell left his lips, eyes scrunched up in fear. The pain was suprisingly not that bad but feeling his own skin breaking still wasn't comfortable. Something that felt like a cold tongue licked the wounds, greedy like a person that was thirsty for a long time. Invisible tense and hard arms felt like they were placed around his waist and upper back, one hands grip reaching up to his shoulder. The next second he saw black.

No.. it was a very dark purple.

It looked like hair, covering over half of his vision. He also saw a pale shoulder. As his throat was drank from, the grip around him relaxed a little and the ice like cold also turned warmer. The temperature rose until it had turned into a coolness similiar to a morning breeze. The harsh bite soon turned to a gentle suck and Mao Zimo had no idea how to react, if at all.  After a few more soft kisses and licks that quickly healed the light pain, the person leaned back.

"I apologize. Now we can talk. You know how it feels, freezing to death."

The arms stayed around his waist in a gentle manner, not allowing much distance between them. The figures movement was lazy and comfortable, just like its expression. Mao Zimo stared wide eyed at the wine colored pupils and the purple luster surrounding them. They were almost sparkling, reminding one of expensive champagne. The lashes were thick and curved which created a wing at the end that caused the whole look to seem cat-like in a natural way. Eyebrows straight and dark, lips purple still, the pale face didn't even look real. The smile was way too beautiful, causing a sense of danger to spread in the pit of Mao Zimos stomach. 

At the same time he was in awe and couldn't help but wonder how many tries it would take to paint someone as etheral as this. Would it even be possible? Or would he need to stick lights at the back of the canvas to mimic the glow of the eyes? Crush pearls to mix the color of the skin? No idea seemed to be good enough. There weren't enough amethysts alone for the lips. He could use all the paint in the world and then he'd have countless enemies but still wouldn't be able to show anyone his current view. Side by side, his painting would look like a childs scribble or a heavy insult. 
This really was a spirit, not only out for souls but also artists hopes. It made Mao Zimo jealous of everyone who never saw him as they were still able to appreciate the skies beauty. He would forever be stuck to this memory, never able to stop comparing things to it.

"Are you acting shy? What's with those shining eyes? Don't make me want to take another bite." After having been 'ignored' again, the spirit wasn't mad. It instead chuckled at him, looking so content and relaxed as if it wasn't the flying mouth or the boulder of arctic air last night. Its arms held him close, body language like it was sunning on a lake in august. The glowing eyes were drifting slowly over his face, as if it too was enjoying art. Or looking at its next meal when they scanned further down.
Having heard the word 'bite', Mao Zimo regained his senses a little bit. He knew it was way past his time to say something so he spoke without thinking. He forced out the words but they were just a dumb whisper. "Bite? No.. no.." His hands held the wine glass close to his chest like a shield. It served as the only barrier between them, one dressed in the blue robes and the other appearantly only in its silk-like birthday suit. Matter of fact, even the best silk would suddenly look bad in comparasion. Not like it mattered when Mao Zimo was lost in its eyes.