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runicloreA Fitting Sacrifice
By: Amber Michelle
Prompt: hunger
Character(s): Lezard
Words: 511
For:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nyuna (original request post here)
......................................................
Lezard remembers being a child, about so tall, following Lorenta's back down a hallway with wood-paneled walls in pine, golden, and white flagstone tiles. His heels clicked on them, scuffed the edges. Someone told him to lift his feet higher when he walked. That voice was something familiar in the alien halls of the Collegium, but he no longer recalls who it was, what their name could have been. Sometimes he thinks the Philosopher's Stone fragmented his memory, but then he recalls those chairs that were too tall for him, their feet like lion's paws, a tawny pine wood to match the walls. The cushions were soft; he sank into the seat, his feet kicked above the monochrome carpet. His nameless chaperon got down to the business of selling Lezard's soul to the academy while he turned a piece of candy between his fingers.
Flenceburg makes the best candy - they use spun sugar, fresh vanilla, and molasses, and honey. The wrapper was thin white parchment back then, the treat a mint-flavored taffy. He keeps a bowl of them on his desk to hold a journal open, and sometimes it will be buried under papers and dirty handkerchiefs until he remembers he's hungry and digs it out.
Being a necromancer isn't easy. People start asking questions when they find their family plots opened, the mausoleums unlocked. What kind of bachelor, they ask, needs to buy forty pounds of meat a week? They think he breeds monsters - he does - and the women make warding signs when he walks past them on the street, which he supposes might work if they mean to make him laugh too hard to cast Fire Lance in their direction. When the time comes to lure Lenneth Valkyrie to his tower, he can't find a single loving couple he can be sure of. Who will come at his call? Who will be unable to resist?
Of necessity, his mind turns to Headmistress Lorenta.
It isn't revenge. Expulsion was the best thing to happen to Lezard. Without the freedom to practice as he chose, he wouldn't have discovered the Stone. His life would have remained drab and loveless, perhaps spiced with Mystina - who is no Lady Valkyrie, though perhaps she might be a goddess, if lush beauty and sharp wit are enough. Lezard remembers her frown the day he left, and reaches for a piece of candy, untwisting the paper wrapper.
She will be breaking fast about now, Lorenta - poaching eggs for her husband, toasting slices of bread. Lezard stayed with them for two days when he was abandoned in Flenceburg, and remembers sitting at the table, stomach rumbling as he breathed the savory scent of egg yolks and chicken-apple sausage crisping on the porcelain stove.
The Headmistress will answer his call to suffer. She is a fitting sacrifice for his Valkyrie - sincere, smothering, self-righteous. He'll try not to enjoy it much, but sometimes he just can't help himself.
.
By: Amber Michelle
Prompt: hunger
Character(s): Lezard
Words: 511
For:
nyuna (original request post here)......................................................
Lezard remembers being a child, about so tall, following Lorenta's back down a hallway with wood-paneled walls in pine, golden, and white flagstone tiles. His heels clicked on them, scuffed the edges. Someone told him to lift his feet higher when he walked. That voice was something familiar in the alien halls of the Collegium, but he no longer recalls who it was, what their name could have been. Sometimes he thinks the Philosopher's Stone fragmented his memory, but then he recalls those chairs that were too tall for him, their feet like lion's paws, a tawny pine wood to match the walls. The cushions were soft; he sank into the seat, his feet kicked above the monochrome carpet. His nameless chaperon got down to the business of selling Lezard's soul to the academy while he turned a piece of candy between his fingers.
Flenceburg makes the best candy - they use spun sugar, fresh vanilla, and molasses, and honey. The wrapper was thin white parchment back then, the treat a mint-flavored taffy. He keeps a bowl of them on his desk to hold a journal open, and sometimes it will be buried under papers and dirty handkerchiefs until he remembers he's hungry and digs it out.
Being a necromancer isn't easy. People start asking questions when they find their family plots opened, the mausoleums unlocked. What kind of bachelor, they ask, needs to buy forty pounds of meat a week? They think he breeds monsters - he does - and the women make warding signs when he walks past them on the street, which he supposes might work if they mean to make him laugh too hard to cast Fire Lance in their direction. When the time comes to lure Lenneth Valkyrie to his tower, he can't find a single loving couple he can be sure of. Who will come at his call? Who will be unable to resist?
Of necessity, his mind turns to Headmistress Lorenta.
It isn't revenge. Expulsion was the best thing to happen to Lezard. Without the freedom to practice as he chose, he wouldn't have discovered the Stone. His life would have remained drab and loveless, perhaps spiced with Mystina - who is no Lady Valkyrie, though perhaps she might be a goddess, if lush beauty and sharp wit are enough. Lezard remembers her frown the day he left, and reaches for a piece of candy, untwisting the paper wrapper.
She will be breaking fast about now, Lorenta - poaching eggs for her husband, toasting slices of bread. Lezard stayed with them for two days when he was abandoned in Flenceburg, and remembers sitting at the table, stomach rumbling as he breathed the savory scent of egg yolks and chicken-apple sausage crisping on the porcelain stove.
The Headmistress will answer his call to suffer. She is a fitting sacrifice for his Valkyrie - sincere, smothering, self-righteous. He'll try not to enjoy it much, but sometimes he just can't help himself.
.