𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 (𝟏) | 𝟏𝟖+

liv. ransom.

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊. This man, this cruel and careless god of a man, is the one to blame for so many deaths across the kingdom. And yet, he's just standing there with an ironic grin on his face as if no one in this world suffers from his fist.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It angers her so much that it almost nauseates her, but now's not the time to vomit.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The man extends his arm. "Take a seat. My guest shouldn't have to eat her meal while standing there like a gargoyle."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She listens, not that she wants to entice a conversation with him at all, but this could be the kingdom's lonely saving grace. If she chooses her words right, she might be able to make her plea with him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Or at least live long enough to sleep another night.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎When settled, she notices that Rhimme does the same at the other end of the table. His sulfur eyes aren't focused on her though, but rather on Mariel as she crosses the room. Her steps echo in the sentient silence, until she pauses before the god of the blight.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He takes her by the hip, pulling her close to his body before bestowing her with a single placid kiss upon her lips. He has her at his mercy, completely under his spell.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I see you've met my wife, Mariel."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Wife? She never thought that a man like Rhimme would have the time, nor the care for a partner.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen swallows as the pierce of his sulfur eyes stabs her. "She's lovely."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"She is, isn't she?" The way he looks at her seems mesmerising, yet it burns with something else she can't decipher, a facade that only magic can provide. "I searched everywhere for her. She was hiding on an isle just off the coast of Eshon surrounded by sea rats. My Mariel."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He places another kiss, this time on her temple, before whispering something in her ear. Immediately, Mariel lifts herself from his side and exits the room, shutting those large doors behind her. Neither of them speak until the creaking of hinges ends.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Rhimme raises his fingers and snaps. In a poof of black mist, a full fledged meal appears in front of her. Despite the dampness around her, the steam of the quarter chicken and potatoes takes away the cold, heat radiating from the porcelain plate.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎And, to her dismay, it smells so delicious when her stomach is running on empty.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Rhimme picks up his own fork. "You must be starving, running around in circles out there in the wild. I made up quite the appetite just watching you and that numbskull of a guide try to navigate my mist. What's his name, um..." he takes a bite of his potato. "Thorn."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He makes eating the dinner look so casual, so simple, but with her luck the guy stuffed the gravy-oozing chicken with poison.