07-12-2018, 07:17 PM
✶✶✶
As far the employees at the orphanage knew, Delila Lestrange did not eat. The mute little girl with the black eyes just stood and stared and made people feel uncomfortable. Sometimes people complained of feeling sick to their stomach or getting headaches when they were near her. Gods knew the children stayed as far from her as they could. But the caretakers were wrong; Delila did eat.
Her entire life the half-dementor had fed on the life force of her fellow children. She ate their hopes and dreams from the air, and felt their life diminish, but it was never enough. Lately a pain in the pit of her stomach had developed, a gnawing hunger that began to torture her daily.
On the night the mysterious man took her from her orphanage, they had stopped in a rundown motel near the entrance to the Nexus. When he brought them to their room, there was a crying woman chained to the radiator.
That night Delila sucked the soul out of her body, and for a moment the hunger was sated.
✶✶✶
By morning Delila was a young woman. Her frame was lithe, nearly emaciated, and her stringy black hair stood out strongly against her pale alabaster skin. Her face showed traces of her mother’s beauty, but her eyes remained the same wide black voids as they had before her apparent puberty.
The man who had called himself her grandfather studied Delili wearily. He was middle-aged, his auburn beard and hair greying. His black robe looked less frightening when the hood was off, and he was handsome despite his scarred visage.
“Morning, Delila,” he said cautiously. He was sipping tea at the table, but his eyes were on the woman.
“I’m hungry,” Delila said, sounding casual yet demanding. Her voice was soft and airy, nearly a whisper. She was craning her neck around the room with a smile on her face, as if seeing everything for the first time.
“You just ate,” the man said flatly. His voice did not falter, his face was stern. “You can eat soon, but right now we have to leave.”
Delila giggled disturbingly. “I don’t think I was asking.”
Delila launched herself across the room, floating eerily forward, the tips of her toes dragging on the carpet.
In a flash the man had risen from the table and was pointing a long wooden wand at her.
“Perfero!” he cried as he jabbed the wand forward in a spiraling motion. A long twisted blade like a corkscrew erupted from the tip of his wand at high speed, piercing through Delila’s stomach and pinning to her the wall. She did not cry out, nor show any sign of pain even as ink-black blood began to leak from her abdomen. She tried to push herself from the wall, but the blade was jagged, and she got stuck. Her black eyes narrowed and she hissed at the man.
He strode up to Delila calmly, his wand at his side.
“You remind me of your mother,” he said with a rueful grin. Delila’s bloody hands grasped for his throat reflexively, and black drool seeped from her teeth. “You have her smile. Her temperament. She came to me to train her in the morning, then tried to slit my throat by night.”
“I smell your fear,” Delila hissed, still pushing away from the wall with her feet in vain.
“She told me she that wanted something very special,” the man continued, as if she had not spoken. “A piece of a flesh from a dangerous man. And so I trained her, every day and every night for over a year. She tried to kill me on more occasions than I care to remember, and I would expect nothing less from you.”
Delila stopped struggling. She hung from the wall, her dark blood dripping onto the carpet.
“I’m going to eat your soul,” she declared boldly.
The man shrugged. “Maybe one day, but not today,” he said apologetically. “Today you are coming with me. We are going into the city, through the Gate. You aren’t going to attack anyone. You aren’t going to try to escape. You’re going to stay by my side, and follow my directions exactly. If you don’t-”
He lifted his wand, and a bright red lightsaber blade emerged from the tip. Delila did not flinch as the man lowered the blade delicately to her cheek, causing her skin to hiss and crackle.
“I’m going to cut your head off,” the man continued. He removed the saber blade from her cheek as putrid smoke began to fill the room. “But if you follow my every direction perfectly, I will show you how to wield a power more terrible than the Omniverse has ever seen. And you will have the strength to sate your hunger.”
Delila just stared at the man with her black eyes narrowed. Her body hung limp as her black blood pooled beneath her. Finally, with a hiss of frustration, she spoke.
“You will show me!”
✶✶✶
As far the employees at the orphanage knew, Delila Lestrange did not eat. The mute little girl with the black eyes just stood and stared and made people feel uncomfortable. Sometimes people complained of feeling sick to their stomach or getting headaches when they were near her. Gods knew the children stayed as far from her as they could. But the caretakers were wrong; Delila did eat.
Her entire life the half-dementor had fed on the life force of her fellow children. She ate their hopes and dreams from the air, and felt their life diminish, but it was never enough. Lately a pain in the pit of her stomach had developed, a gnawing hunger that began to torture her daily.
On the night the mysterious man took her from her orphanage, they had stopped in a rundown motel near the entrance to the Nexus. When he brought them to their room, there was a crying woman chained to the radiator.
That night Delila sucked the soul out of her body, and for a moment the hunger was sated.
✶✶✶
By morning Delila was a young woman. Her frame was lithe, nearly emaciated, and her stringy black hair stood out strongly against her pale alabaster skin. Her face showed traces of her mother’s beauty, but her eyes remained the same wide black voids as they had before her apparent puberty.
The man who had called himself her grandfather studied Delili wearily. He was middle-aged, his auburn beard and hair greying. His black robe looked less frightening when the hood was off, and he was handsome despite his scarred visage.
“Morning, Delila,” he said cautiously. He was sipping tea at the table, but his eyes were on the woman.
“I’m hungry,” Delila said, sounding casual yet demanding. Her voice was soft and airy, nearly a whisper. She was craning her neck around the room with a smile on her face, as if seeing everything for the first time.
“You just ate,” the man said flatly. His voice did not falter, his face was stern. “You can eat soon, but right now we have to leave.”
Delila giggled disturbingly. “I don’t think I was asking.”
Delila launched herself across the room, floating eerily forward, the tips of her toes dragging on the carpet.
In a flash the man had risen from the table and was pointing a long wooden wand at her.
“Perfero!” he cried as he jabbed the wand forward in a spiraling motion. A long twisted blade like a corkscrew erupted from the tip of his wand at high speed, piercing through Delila’s stomach and pinning to her the wall. She did not cry out, nor show any sign of pain even as ink-black blood began to leak from her abdomen. She tried to push herself from the wall, but the blade was jagged, and she got stuck. Her black eyes narrowed and she hissed at the man.
He strode up to Delila calmly, his wand at his side.
“You remind me of your mother,” he said with a rueful grin. Delila’s bloody hands grasped for his throat reflexively, and black drool seeped from her teeth. “You have her smile. Her temperament. She came to me to train her in the morning, then tried to slit my throat by night.”
“I smell your fear,” Delila hissed, still pushing away from the wall with her feet in vain.
“She told me she that wanted something very special,” the man continued, as if she had not spoken. “A piece of a flesh from a dangerous man. And so I trained her, every day and every night for over a year. She tried to kill me on more occasions than I care to remember, and I would expect nothing less from you.”
Delila stopped struggling. She hung from the wall, her dark blood dripping onto the carpet.
“I’m going to eat your soul,” she declared boldly.
The man shrugged. “Maybe one day, but not today,” he said apologetically. “Today you are coming with me. We are going into the city, through the Gate. You aren’t going to attack anyone. You aren’t going to try to escape. You’re going to stay by my side, and follow my directions exactly. If you don’t-”
He lifted his wand, and a bright red lightsaber blade emerged from the tip. Delila did not flinch as the man lowered the blade delicately to her cheek, causing her skin to hiss and crackle.
“I’m going to cut your head off,” the man continued. He removed the saber blade from her cheek as putrid smoke began to fill the room. “But if you follow my every direction perfectly, I will show you how to wield a power more terrible than the Omniverse has ever seen. And you will have the strength to sate your hunger.”
Delila just stared at the man with her black eyes narrowed. Her body hung limp as her black blood pooled beneath her. Finally, with a hiss of frustration, she spoke.
“You will show me!”
✶✶✶