Beautiful Eyes of Jade
Saturday, May 26, 2007
The winged, obsidian giant kneeled outside the house, gazing in through the uncovered window. His long, flowing hair, white as new fallen snow, caught the soft light of the moon. The enormous wings, the color of his hair veined with streaks of silver, were folded close along his well-muscled back. His hands were guantleted in leather, fingerless gloves. The light coming through the window from inside the house glinted off of the sharp metal spikes that lined the knuckles. His feet were shod in much the same way with soft leather boots, spiked with the same strange gleaming black metal. Other than these, his only attire was a simple loincloth held around his waist by a wide, thick leather belt. From this belt hung a large black sword, sheathed in a scabbard of gleaming, emerald, green scaled hide adorned with a row of five unknown gemstones. His eyes were the eyes of a creature of darkness. The dark red irises were wide, allowing none of the white surrounding them to be seen. The pupils were oblong, almost cat-like.
He stared intently through the window, content that the smaller creatures within could not see him. He was careful that none of the light from within fell directly upon him. He remained motionless, drawing no attention. His breath was steady and controlled. He made no sound as he watched. His large pointed ears were turned slightly toward the glass and he listened carefully as he studied the creatures playing games inside the room.
He wondered at the music that fell upon his ears. It was slightly odd, like nothing he had heard before. It was a mixture of sounds. He could make out the twangs of plucked strings, of different thicknesses and tensions. He heard the fingertips of the instrumentalist clamp and slide across them. He heard the steady pounding of sticks on stretched skins. He could make out the subtle click as a stick once contacted the edge of the instrument. Along with these obsolete, almost primal, sounds came the steady influence of frequency controlled, perfectly pitched notes. The music didn't make sense to him, yet it was not against his liking, merely different from that to which he was once used to listening.
As the music flowed through his body, his eyes took in the scene unraveling before him. `Mating ritual?' he questioned himself. Within the room, he could make out two males and three females. `Humans,' his mind recalled. `Men and women....women...the woe of men,' he laughed within himself. Some things were the same in all the dimensions. `The females run the show and let the males think they do...' Actually, each of the sexes appeared to be taking an equal part in the display. They appeared to be taking turns feeding themselves with various fruits and other foods placed between each other's legs. They went slowly, spending more time licking each other's bodies than gorging themselves. Much of the repast seemed to be going to waste. Whatever it was they were doing, it interested the giant greatly. He suddenly became excited at the prospect of joining them.
`Wonder how upset they'd be if I just walked in on them?' he thought to himself, jokingly. He knew that this planet was not yet aware of the dimensions that surrounded it. He thought back quickly to the books they had given him to study before his exile. After a few moments, he suddenly smiled as he remembered one of his favorite characters from the literature of this planet. He moved slowly into the yard, careful not to disturb anything. When he was satisfied that his movement had not been noticed, he bowed his head in concentration. A thick fog slowly condensed upon his body, conforming itself to his vast form. The fog slowly changed, reshaping itself, becoming smaller, churning heavily. Within minutes it abated.
"Shit!" one of the men exclaimed as he stood and ducked into the hallway, followed closely by the others. "Who in hell is that?"
One of the women quickly throws a thin robe around her body and steps over to the door. Opening it carefully, she looks at the stranger standing before her. She never speaks a word. She lets her eyes frame the question that the stranger knows she wishes to ask. She looks at the man expectantly, studying his features, his body.
He is tall, well over six feet, and somewhat thin. He is handsome, yet in a rugged sort of way. His face is the face of one who enjoys the outdoors. His skin is the ruddy color of one who has spent his life mostly outside. He wears a short-sleeved cotton shirt. His muscled arms sprout from wide, solid shoulders. His pants are made of faded blue denim. The knees of which are worn through in spots. On his feet are a pair of old leather hiking boots. The boots appeared to be well worn, the seams at the soles split at a few places. They were stained by the dust of many a road. In his hands he held a six-pack of beer and a bottle of wine. Her eyes once more directed themselves to the stranger's pants. `Yes,' she thought to herself, `They are well-filled.' She once more looked into the man's eyes, asking the unspoken question.
"I'm new around here and I was pretty bored. I heard your party and decided to see if you could stand to be a little hospitable to a man that's trying to fight his way out of the depths of depression." He smiled as he said the words, indicating that he was in no way serious, about anything. He smiled and looked at the woman, waiting for her reply.
He looked at her intently, letting his gaze travel from her feet upward. Her legs were firm and sexy, exposed by the briefness of her robe. She seemed to be well curved, adding to his excitement. He looked into her face. His eyes suddenly locked with hers.
Her eyes, beautiful, intelligent eyes, bore into his own. He could lose himself in those eyes. Indeed, he had already felt the danger of falling into them. The mirrors of her soul, he liked what he saw. Calculating eyes, eyes that knew what they wanted and had the will to take it. Intelligent eyes, eyes that looked beyond the surface, to strip away illusions, to see reality. Fearless eyes, eyes that quickly determined what color could not threaten. Warm eyes, eyes full of life and the desire to live it to its fullest. Beautiful eyes, eyes of jade.
"What's your name?" she asked, becoming interested in the strange man at her doorstep.
The man thought quickly. `The dark man...the clown...the walking dude...no wait, that's it.' "Randall," he replied, "Randall Flagg. But my friends call me The Reaver."
He stared intently through the window, content that the smaller creatures within could not see him. He was careful that none of the light from within fell directly upon him. He remained motionless, drawing no attention. His breath was steady and controlled. He made no sound as he watched. His large pointed ears were turned slightly toward the glass and he listened carefully as he studied the creatures playing games inside the room.
He wondered at the music that fell upon his ears. It was slightly odd, like nothing he had heard before. It was a mixture of sounds. He could make out the twangs of plucked strings, of different thicknesses and tensions. He heard the fingertips of the instrumentalist clamp and slide across them. He heard the steady pounding of sticks on stretched skins. He could make out the subtle click as a stick once contacted the edge of the instrument. Along with these obsolete, almost primal, sounds came the steady influence of frequency controlled, perfectly pitched notes. The music didn't make sense to him, yet it was not against his liking, merely different from that to which he was once used to listening.
As the music flowed through his body, his eyes took in the scene unraveling before him. `Mating ritual?' he questioned himself. Within the room, he could make out two males and three females. `Humans,' his mind recalled. `Men and women....women...the woe of men,' he laughed within himself. Some things were the same in all the dimensions. `The females run the show and let the males think they do...' Actually, each of the sexes appeared to be taking an equal part in the display. They appeared to be taking turns feeding themselves with various fruits and other foods placed between each other's legs. They went slowly, spending more time licking each other's bodies than gorging themselves. Much of the repast seemed to be going to waste. Whatever it was they were doing, it interested the giant greatly. He suddenly became excited at the prospect of joining them.
`Wonder how upset they'd be if I just walked in on them?' he thought to himself, jokingly. He knew that this planet was not yet aware of the dimensions that surrounded it. He thought back quickly to the books they had given him to study before his exile. After a few moments, he suddenly smiled as he remembered one of his favorite characters from the literature of this planet. He moved slowly into the yard, careful not to disturb anything. When he was satisfied that his movement had not been noticed, he bowed his head in concentration. A thick fog slowly condensed upon his body, conforming itself to his vast form. The fog slowly changed, reshaping itself, becoming smaller, churning heavily. Within minutes it abated.
"Shit!" one of the men exclaimed as he stood and ducked into the hallway, followed closely by the others. "Who in hell is that?"
One of the women quickly throws a thin robe around her body and steps over to the door. Opening it carefully, she looks at the stranger standing before her. She never speaks a word. She lets her eyes frame the question that the stranger knows she wishes to ask. She looks at the man expectantly, studying his features, his body.
He is tall, well over six feet, and somewhat thin. He is handsome, yet in a rugged sort of way. His face is the face of one who enjoys the outdoors. His skin is the ruddy color of one who has spent his life mostly outside. He wears a short-sleeved cotton shirt. His muscled arms sprout from wide, solid shoulders. His pants are made of faded blue denim. The knees of which are worn through in spots. On his feet are a pair of old leather hiking boots. The boots appeared to be well worn, the seams at the soles split at a few places. They were stained by the dust of many a road. In his hands he held a six-pack of beer and a bottle of wine. Her eyes once more directed themselves to the stranger's pants. `Yes,' she thought to herself, `They are well-filled.' She once more looked into the man's eyes, asking the unspoken question.
"I'm new around here and I was pretty bored. I heard your party and decided to see if you could stand to be a little hospitable to a man that's trying to fight his way out of the depths of depression." He smiled as he said the words, indicating that he was in no way serious, about anything. He smiled and looked at the woman, waiting for her reply.
He looked at her intently, letting his gaze travel from her feet upward. Her legs were firm and sexy, exposed by the briefness of her robe. She seemed to be well curved, adding to his excitement. He looked into her face. His eyes suddenly locked with hers.
Her eyes, beautiful, intelligent eyes, bore into his own. He could lose himself in those eyes. Indeed, he had already felt the danger of falling into them. The mirrors of her soul, he liked what he saw. Calculating eyes, eyes that knew what they wanted and had the will to take it. Intelligent eyes, eyes that looked beyond the surface, to strip away illusions, to see reality. Fearless eyes, eyes that quickly determined what color could not threaten. Warm eyes, eyes full of life and the desire to live it to its fullest. Beautiful eyes, eyes of jade.
"What's your name?" she asked, becoming interested in the strange man at her doorstep.
The man thought quickly. `The dark man...the clown...the walking dude...no wait, that's it.' "Randall," he replied, "Randall Flagg. But my friends call me The Reaver."
Posted by Lady Erotica at 10:22 PM
Labels: fantasy
