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Listener+Spectral Assassin “Voidbound” Part 3

[(Anonymous)]

"I find it more strange that you’re so--”

“Tangible?” he suggests, and he gives her another firm press of his fingers just to drive the point home. "It's just a matter of concentration, Listener," his cold lips are against her ear, his voice a low whisper. Stranger still, is that when he speaks she feels an errant puff of wind, as if the ghost has breath. It smells the same way the air does before a thunderstorm; crisp, clean, and seething with power.

“Shall I continue?” Lucien asks.

All too often, Lumen’s insatiable curiosity gets the better of her, and has landed her in some strange situations. But as careless as she is, she’s not stupid, and she knows what he’s asking for -- permission. And she’s eager to give it. To feel more than those cold fingers pressing against her through her clothing.

"Yes. But if I tell you to stop..." her voice trails off, watching the ghost as he moves to stand in front of her.

"Command me to stop and I will," he tells her, trailing a finger across her breast and smiling as her nipple hardens beneath her tunic.

She bites her lip, doing her best to keep her voice even. “All right. So... Tell me more.”

“Oh, I will. But I need to show you in order for you to fully appreciate the abilities of your predecessors.”

At those words he produces a length of rope -- ethereal rope, she notices with some amusement -- and loops it around her wrists. The rope feels like silk against her skin, and a little shiver of fear runs through her at the mere idea of being bound. It’s not something she ever particularly enjoyed, but she doesn’t tell him to stop. Not yet.

Lucien’s hands are on her shoulders, pushing her back until she is pressed against the wall, then he guides her arms up, hooking the rope that binds her over an unlit sconce. Once she is secured in place, he says, “I was hung upside down, but I will spare you from that discomfort.”

"You're too kind," she says sarcastically.

Lucien holds a finger over her lips, his eyes meeting hers. "Be quiet," he commands, "the Keeper might find your particular brand of mordancy charming. But I do not."

Lumen starts to apologize, but she is silenced by the hard look in his eyes. With his dagger, he effortlessly slices through her tunic, splitting it down the middle and exposing her skin. Her breast band is next, and the shimmering, blue blade cuts through the thin material as easily as a hot knife cuts through butter.

"Now, as I said, I was subdued when I was stabbed here," he draws his dagger across her stomach, where he'd pressed earlier. The tip of the dagger draws an angry, red mark across her flesh. Lumen hisses at the sting of the blade but makes no effort to protest. He'd not drawn blood, at least.

"The liver is such a delicate organ," he murmurs, digging the pommel of the dagger against her skin, putting more pressure than he did previously on the sensitive organ, invoking not only a wave of nausea, but a rush of fear. “Uncomfortable, isn’t it? I know you’ve seen the color of the blood that comes from this area. That beautiful, deep red that turns as black as the Void when it mixes with bile. It’s… mesmerizing.”

“Despite the numerous torments, I did not actually die until I was cut from here,” he lays the flat of the blade against the top of her breast, drawing it over the swell. The sensation sends another stab of heat to her core, and once the blade reaches the skin beneath her breast, he presses the tip hard against her flesh and drags the knife down until it reaches the hem of her trousers, "to here," Lucien finishes, admiring the red mark his dagger left in its wake. "I suppose I should be glad that I slipped into the darkness of the Void when they disemboweled me. Though I hate to miss out on any kind of new experience.”

Lumen shivers when he pushes her trousers down over her hips. The chill of the room, the stone wall, and mostly the chill of him, coursing through her like a bitingly cold winter's night. His dagger makes quick work of her smalls, and Lumen twists her lips in annoyance at the destruction of her clothing.