Deminatza
Visitor
She was standing the midst of a meadow that was all too familiar to her. As if it sensed her presence, the fog rolled in from the mountains to swirl about her feet, then rise upwards to form its oval mirror like shape and permitted Deminatza to see within.
Scar and Demi were walking in Skara Brae, speaking to one another as they sought to restock their wares. They were turning around the bank’s corner when three figures barred their path. Scar placed himself between the thugs and Deminatza. "If you are looking for certain death, you have found it, friends. First and final warning" Hand extended palm up. Right hand on kryss, head lowered, eyes flashing primal fury.
One was bold enough to make the first move and lunged at the pair. Scar deftly side stepped and rewarded the attacker with a punch to the side cracking, what felt like, two ribs.
“Oi!, I would not do that if I were you boyo. Not unless you want me to hurt this pretty little lady.”
Scar whirled around and froze at the sight of the other thug standing behind the bard with a dagger at her throat.
“If you so much as draw a drop of blood, I will-,” Scar immediately cradled his arm to his body at a sharp pain coming seemingly out of nowhere. He looked down and noticed a clean diagonal cut atop his forearm. He looked to the third assailant snarling, teeth clenched. In a flash he unsheathed his kryss and stitched a crimson slash across the man’s throat.
He turned his attention to back to the one holding Demi captive and noted a smirk.
“Give it a moment,” he said condescendingly. He leaned in Scar’s direction, “I will even give you something to watch while we wait”.
The ruffian pressed the dagger harder against her throat, causing Demi’s head to tilt back. Maintaining eye contact with Scar, he pressed the fullness of his tongue against Deminatza’s cheek, languidly licked her chin to brow.
The tremors were slight at first. Startled he sniffed the wound Poison. As this realization hit, Scar fell to his knees in a fit of frenzied shaking.
“Scar-,” Demi’s voice was cut off when the dagger, again, was pressed even tighter.
“Nah ah ah,” he whispered his lips pressed against her ear. She could smell the foul drink on his breath. “You only get to watch,”
Scar arched backwards, howled in agony then collapsed forward, his palms slamming against the ground. His spine concaved inhumanly high as the muscles were visibly undulating as the sickening popping sounds fill the air as the ligaments detach from bone. There, in their midst, was a terrifyingly huge grey wolf with red eyes, its jaws slavering.
“No,” Demi cried softly. The sheer shock of seeing him had her paralyzed. He snarled and pounced at her captor. As she watched his flight, she realized his trajectory was...off. Before she could comprehend what was about to happen, he latched onto her throat and crushed her windpipe.
Deminatza clutched her throat, gasping for air as she sat up. It was still dark which indicated it was too early for dawn’s arrival.
“Dee?” Someone called to her softly which had caused her to jump. The room came into sharp view and saw the look of concern on Scar’s face.
“I am sorry, beloved. T'was merely a dream. Go back to sleep,” she whispered with a slight tremble and kissed him lightly on the forehead.
Unconvinced, he pulled her down to lay beside him, cradling her head in one hand the other arm wrapped protectively around the curvature of her waist. She caressed his face and smiled genuinely, the dream forgotten. “I am well. I will splash my face with water and will be back before thou realize I am gone.” He did not appear convinced, yet did not press the issue and let go of her.
She walked into the adjoining room and splashed water on her face. She peered into the mirror and took note of the white porcelain tub. After ensuring the temperature was to her liking, she lowered herself into the inviting waters. A contented sigh involuntarily escaped her lips as she closed her eyes and attempted to recall her dream.
“Mama, are you almost done?!,” Deminatza opened her eyes as her child Chasity came bursting in. “Papa said you were in here, but to leave you alone, but I want to play with you,” the child pouted.
“Oh, so you want to play,” she said mischievously and grabbed the child and pulled her into the water. Chasity screaming and laughing gleefully.
“And where are my two favorite women,” a voice called out in the hallway.
“We are in here,” Demi managed to call out before Chasity assaulted her with a flurry of splashes filling her mouth with bath water.
“Ah ha! I seemed to have stumbled into a battle zone. Whose side shall I choose?” Before Demi could answer, Chasity splashed more water at her, getting in her eyes.
“Pick me Papa!” There was a sudden displacement of water and knew he had plucked her out of the tub.
“Do you yield,” he said with mockingly.
“Yeah! Mama, do you yield?!”
“Never!” Demi declared while trying to wipe away blinding water.
“What say you, Chasity?”
“Get her Papa!”
Before she could protest, the truce was evidently over as she was attacked mercilessly, water everywhere. She attempted to laugh, but water kept going into her mouth, inadvertently swallowing some as she tried to inhale.
Between the coughs, she managed to cry out “I yield, I yield to thee both”
The father and daughter army let out a victorious cry that echoed in the room. She heard a rustle, then the presence of someone kneeling beside her. A towel brush against her eyes and she offered her gratitude.
“We won right papa?”
She opened her eyes to see Chasity in the arms of Torak, both smiling triumphantly.
Her eyes flew open and was unable to breathe. She pierced the water’s surface sputtering and leaned over the edge of the bathtub taking in huge gulps of air.
What was happening, she thought frantically. She tried to recall the dream, but it stayed just beyond her memory. She began to tremble looking around and as the room seemed to distort then come into focus.
She did what her father had instructed to do if he was not near to help. She closed her eyes and counted backwards from twenty. Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen…
Torak’s eyes were closed counting backwards from…sixteen, fifteen, fourteen. When he reached one, he no longer felt Deminatza’s fear and knew she had forgotten what she had seen. They were coming more vivid for her, he mused worriedly.
Scar and Demi were walking in Skara Brae, speaking to one another as they sought to restock their wares. They were turning around the bank’s corner when three figures barred their path. Scar placed himself between the thugs and Deminatza. "If you are looking for certain death, you have found it, friends. First and final warning" Hand extended palm up. Right hand on kryss, head lowered, eyes flashing primal fury.
One was bold enough to make the first move and lunged at the pair. Scar deftly side stepped and rewarded the attacker with a punch to the side cracking, what felt like, two ribs.
“Oi!, I would not do that if I were you boyo. Not unless you want me to hurt this pretty little lady.”
Scar whirled around and froze at the sight of the other thug standing behind the bard with a dagger at her throat.
“If you so much as draw a drop of blood, I will-,” Scar immediately cradled his arm to his body at a sharp pain coming seemingly out of nowhere. He looked down and noticed a clean diagonal cut atop his forearm. He looked to the third assailant snarling, teeth clenched. In a flash he unsheathed his kryss and stitched a crimson slash across the man’s throat.
He turned his attention to back to the one holding Demi captive and noted a smirk.
“Give it a moment,” he said condescendingly. He leaned in Scar’s direction, “I will even give you something to watch while we wait”.
The ruffian pressed the dagger harder against her throat, causing Demi’s head to tilt back. Maintaining eye contact with Scar, he pressed the fullness of his tongue against Deminatza’s cheek, languidly licked her chin to brow.
The tremors were slight at first. Startled he sniffed the wound Poison. As this realization hit, Scar fell to his knees in a fit of frenzied shaking.
“Scar-,” Demi’s voice was cut off when the dagger, again, was pressed even tighter.
“Nah ah ah,” he whispered his lips pressed against her ear. She could smell the foul drink on his breath. “You only get to watch,”
Scar arched backwards, howled in agony then collapsed forward, his palms slamming against the ground. His spine concaved inhumanly high as the muscles were visibly undulating as the sickening popping sounds fill the air as the ligaments detach from bone. There, in their midst, was a terrifyingly huge grey wolf with red eyes, its jaws slavering.
“No,” Demi cried softly. The sheer shock of seeing him had her paralyzed. He snarled and pounced at her captor. As she watched his flight, she realized his trajectory was...off. Before she could comprehend what was about to happen, he latched onto her throat and crushed her windpipe.
Deminatza clutched her throat, gasping for air as she sat up. It was still dark which indicated it was too early for dawn’s arrival.
“Dee?” Someone called to her softly which had caused her to jump. The room came into sharp view and saw the look of concern on Scar’s face.
“I am sorry, beloved. T'was merely a dream. Go back to sleep,” she whispered with a slight tremble and kissed him lightly on the forehead.
Unconvinced, he pulled her down to lay beside him, cradling her head in one hand the other arm wrapped protectively around the curvature of her waist. She caressed his face and smiled genuinely, the dream forgotten. “I am well. I will splash my face with water and will be back before thou realize I am gone.” He did not appear convinced, yet did not press the issue and let go of her.
She walked into the adjoining room and splashed water on her face. She peered into the mirror and took note of the white porcelain tub. After ensuring the temperature was to her liking, she lowered herself into the inviting waters. A contented sigh involuntarily escaped her lips as she closed her eyes and attempted to recall her dream.
“Mama, are you almost done?!,” Deminatza opened her eyes as her child Chasity came bursting in. “Papa said you were in here, but to leave you alone, but I want to play with you,” the child pouted.
“Oh, so you want to play,” she said mischievously and grabbed the child and pulled her into the water. Chasity screaming and laughing gleefully.
“And where are my two favorite women,” a voice called out in the hallway.
“We are in here,” Demi managed to call out before Chasity assaulted her with a flurry of splashes filling her mouth with bath water.
“Ah ha! I seemed to have stumbled into a battle zone. Whose side shall I choose?” Before Demi could answer, Chasity splashed more water at her, getting in her eyes.
“Pick me Papa!” There was a sudden displacement of water and knew he had plucked her out of the tub.
“Do you yield,” he said with mockingly.
“Yeah! Mama, do you yield?!”
“Never!” Demi declared while trying to wipe away blinding water.
“What say you, Chasity?”
“Get her Papa!”
Before she could protest, the truce was evidently over as she was attacked mercilessly, water everywhere. She attempted to laugh, but water kept going into her mouth, inadvertently swallowing some as she tried to inhale.
Between the coughs, she managed to cry out “I yield, I yield to thee both”
The father and daughter army let out a victorious cry that echoed in the room. She heard a rustle, then the presence of someone kneeling beside her. A towel brush against her eyes and she offered her gratitude.
“We won right papa?”
She opened her eyes to see Chasity in the arms of Torak, both smiling triumphantly.
Her eyes flew open and was unable to breathe. She pierced the water’s surface sputtering and leaned over the edge of the bathtub taking in huge gulps of air.
What was happening, she thought frantically. She tried to recall the dream, but it stayed just beyond her memory. She began to tremble looking around and as the room seemed to distort then come into focus.
She did what her father had instructed to do if he was not near to help. She closed her eyes and counted backwards from twenty. Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen…
***
Torak’s eyes were closed counting backwards from…sixteen, fifteen, fourteen. When he reached one, he no longer felt Deminatza’s fear and knew she had forgotten what she had seen. They were coming more vivid for her, he mused worriedly.
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