Pleasures Poison (closed)

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Clarice could feel it. The fear within the walls. It only made her demeanor more giddy. Literally making her skip down the corridor to her rooms like a child on holiday. She never knew where they hid them but they were pulled from where ever they were every new moon. The bodies. Piled in the pyre in the courtyard outside her rooms.

Stopping halfway down her hall she found her table also piled and waiting. A silver plate of assorted berries and a lit torch. She really did enjoy her gift, from touch to ash, the whole process just tickled little parts deep within her.

Taking the plate and the torch she slipped quietly through her rooms and out into the courtyard. It was always so quiet. The only breathing was hers even though there were many here, 23 she had been told, along with the cherry wood, walnut and dried wheat for kindling. Quite the morbid bouquet. Grinning broadly she hummed to herself setting alight the fire that would burn through most of the night.

She settled herself in a lounge in the courtyard eating berries, watching the flames lick the sky and thinking of just how everything is the way it is.
----
She was an enigma. A peasant ruler that no one crossed directly. One that was talked about in hushed tones and fearful glances. But also one that was relied upon in times of need. She came from a long line of empaths though the gift was dwindling greatly as there were less and less of her mothers kind to keep the line strong.

She was different though. Much different. Even from the womb her mother knew she was. She should have been able to feel her babes emotions but she couldn’t. After birth she still felt nothing from her daughter. Months went by and everyone that had contact with the child grew ill. Scared her mother fled. She didn't understand then what she had birthed or why she was cursed with an inability to feel her daughters emotions. She sought out healers, wise women and many others that were founts of knowledge that no one talked about in open court. None would touch the child even though outwardly there seemed to be not a thing out-of-place but they could feel her. Her mother couldn’t understand that either, how they could feel her and she could not.

So she retreated to the deep edge of the city and hid them both in an abandoned farmhouse. Keeping them both from people as the child grew. She taught her everything she could remember and everything she was learning about living alone. From how to be a lady in court to planting crops for food and medicine. Though the lessons in being a lady halted when the young one was in her sixth summer.

Clarice had come running in the door, flush faced and excited. Her dark mane past her shoulders. Her flushed skin nearly hiding her freckles but it was her eyes that bore the most of her mirth; glittering hazel of jade and gold, sprinkled with points of every color. In her excitement she ran smack into her mother, dropping a crow she had in her hands. She hurriedly bent and retrieved it, depositing the mass of black feathers in her mothers hands.

“Mother, look! I brought home dinner! I'll go dig up some vegetables from the garden so we can make a stew!”

The look on her mothers face didn’t stop her, she was proud and that was all that mattered. When she returned her mother had only sat down at their small table and lain the bird in the center where the flowers usually were. Confusion was mixed with pride and excitement but didn’t slow her jabbering mouth. She explained as best a child can that the crow didn’t fight being caught at all. That it was sad that it lost its mate but after she caught it. Oh, after she caught it, it was as excited as she was and happier than she had ever felt a crow could be. That is until it was dead. So she brought it home like a good little lady. After all, food was food.

Clarice went right on to prepare her stew. Washing the vegetables, plucking and cleaning the crow, filling the pot and stoking the fire for cooking. Nothing could or would ruin her good mood. It was the happiest day of her life. She felt accomplished. Never before had she caught something she could make for dinner. Sure she could feel her mother watching her, feel her fears but it was beyond her to care.

That was her beginning of so manys' end. Even her mothers. Years would pass with similar occurrences until her early teens. Her mother, fearful, fretful and jumpy, had lost her happy glow. She had stopped eating meat all together. Denying Clarice the joy of providing for their little family just like she denied her any allowance to visit the village or any neighbors what so ever. She barely talked with her mother by then. The woman just didn’t understand that everything wants to die eventually. That she wasn’t doing anything wrong. That yes, maybe some were fearful, but not after she touched them. Well most of the time anyway. When she was angry they still didn’t want to die, even more so after she touched them. They made loud noises that hurt her ears. So she made them die faster.

It was that conversation that she felt a deeper change in her mother. From fear to something that was well past terror blended with a resolve and determination she learned to identify. Her mother tried to sneak up on her in the garden the next day, tried to bash her in the head with a large stone, tried and failed. She learned then if you're going to sneak up on someone; make sure they don’t have a pitchfork in their hands or any other weapon for that matter. She didn’t even take it out, the pitchfork that is. She simply realized she was free and walked away. She wouldn’t be denied access to the neighbors, the village, the kingdom, anything anymore and she would go where she pleased.
----

Her fire not so bright now she could see the stars. To her that’s what her life was, what her memories were; infinite points all definable if you focused on one or the other yet a tangle of blurring lights if you tried to think of all of them at once. So she stopped trying to remember and drifted off to sleep in her courtyard. Her fire would keep her warm.


+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Dawn began as it always does, pinks and oranges lighting the spires to the palace on the hill. Except this day he was dressed in his best attire standing at the foot of his finished grave. Next to that of his wife. Only hers was not as empty as his was now. They had near 30 years together and 4 children but he couldn't go on. His body wouldn’t let him and here in the shadow of the palace he didn’t have to. Didn't have to grow any older or live in anymore pain. He would know again what it was like to feel that touch, to feel that rapture. It would be the last thing he ever felt.

He turned and walked to the carriage, his middle son was already waiting with the restless horses. Climbing in he laid out letters for his other children, his solicitor, and youngest nephew on the bench. One for his eldest son explaining his Will, his assets and his love for his first-born son. One for his only daughter, married and moved more than two handfuls of hills to the south. And finally one for his youngest son, off to study with the monks or priests or shaman. Or was it the knights in the next kingdom. It didn’t matter. He had been gone eight years in his quest to read every book he could find. Being the youngest gave you the privilege of an education over labor. The letters to his solicitor and nephew also explained his will and little else.

The carriage moved and the road swept past as quickly as it will when you wish for something so long and dread it just as much. Cravings were like that. The desire to feel a feeling no matter the cost. Though in his case, like so many others, the cost was dire. To crave her meant you were Touched. You felt her within your blood. Within your bones. Simply within you. A tickle, a heart beat.. She really didn’t know but they all craved her touch.

If they lived past that first touch that is.. but this is Roberts part so I'll get back to him.

The palace came into view sooner than later. It was only late dawn but the gates were wide and servants silently helped him from the carriage. They had seen that look he carried in his eyes many times before. Robert took his son for one last hug, not needing to discuss anymore. It was all said in the days preceding this journey. Releasing his son Robert was led into the palace, never to walk out again.
+*+*++*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Waking to suns crest over courtyard walls Clarice ran her fingers over the blanket someone had laid across her. Chuckling she sat up only to be greeted by a man sitting in the grass by her lounge. His face was lined and his eyes were pale. He was watching her with not a shadow of doubt. Just a look of want; weary, tired yes... and almost defeated but wanting none the less. He looked like he could use a nap, a long one and had the most comfortable bed in his sights.

“It's time, isn’t it?”

His reply was a shaky nod. She didn’t know if he feared to answer or really couldn’t anymore.

Her fingers stretched and he flinched just that bit. A flash of fear so faint she would have missed it if she blinked. Smiling she soothed him the best way she knew how. With a touch.

It was a simple touch, without malice or contempt, without much of anything but joy for morning gifts such as him. She watched a smile tug at his mouth as his whole body relaxed, his eyes closed, his breath pulled deeply within his chest. Her fingers retreated almost pulling a whimper with them.

“Not so fast. Lay back on the grass and tell me, Are all your affairs in order?”

“Yes Ma'am, Every T crossed and I dotted, debts repaid, letters of notice sent, Will filed, grave dug... please, I want to feel that way again, please.” As he talked he laid out in the grass, his fingers clenched, lips tightly closed to end his plea and his eyes locked on to her in a far away glaze she knew so very well.

She slipped from her seat and sat in the grass beside him watching him breath and paused for a moment or two before she slowly leaned closer and closer still. Somehow they all knew taking what they wanted would not be pleasant. As touching her would cause just as much death but the moments, the lifetime before that could be either bliss or torture. She loved to make them wait though.. just so much. The anticipation was worth it.

“You have made my day. Rare is it that I get a start to my day such as this.”

Her smile was genuine as she dropped a hand over his heartbeat. She loved to feel their chests rise and fall. Feel their hearts beating faster before they slow and stop. A mirthful giggle escaped as she laid her other hand on his cheek. She bit her lip and watched his eyes flutter, hell his whole body fluttered. Her joy was his only infinity more. It was within every fiber of his being, every memory, every nerve. Her own body shivered in delight. And then it was done. Well, he was done.

Grinning she got to her feet and left the courtyard to find her rooms already bustling. So many would help her this day. While she was happy. They all knew she would be in good spirits waking like that, so no one flinched all morning. Surely they shuttered when skin brushed skin but it was with sighs and happy noises. But still, too much could be too much. She didn’t need so many people in her rooms to get her ready to visit the village. She sent over half of them to care for the courtyard and deliver the man to his son. That one didn’t need to be hidden or swept away. That one was completely prepared. Just like the crow.

The day passed and she was finally ferried off to the edge of the village dressed well but not as nobility. She dismissed her guard and slipped away, hoping to find a treat or two within the endless flow of faces.

He was a minstrel, or that was the easiest thing to tell people. Ruel, or just Rue to those that got to know him, loved to travel. He’d grown up in a tiny village far from anywhere that had strongly believed it was a sin against heaven to go out into the larger world. Even with this instilled in him as a young boy, Ruel could not see himself farming potatoes like his father or even making shoes like his uncle.

The only time he was really happy as a boy was when merchants found their way to the little village. The village tolerated them, because some things were much easier to trade for than make themselves, and Rue adored them for the stories they told of the outside world. The tales fascinated him and every night he dreamt of seeing that world for himself.

At thirteen he struck out on his own. He took almost nothing with him and had no real skills except for the farming and other chores he had. He stole food from the root cellar and bought a visiting backpack with the coins his father had given him for new tools. Ruel never looked back. The next town was never enough for him and he never bought enough goods to be a merchant, because they’d slow him down too much. As he grew there were two things he became truly good at; surviving on his own and playing the fiddle.

The wanderlust driven boy grew into a man that would play songs for his meals and charm and steal for a warm bed at night and a full purse in the morning. His rugged looks and cheerful attitude had brought him many pleasant nights in the last few years. His hair was dark black and though the youth was still clear on his face, life alone on the road had given him maturity beyond his years. Ruel was only twenty and though his age was clear to most, it was easy to forget.

* * *

Collecting stories describing the fantastic had become a hobby of Ruel Durendal, but something about this villages stories were different. They all centered on the same woman and none of them left room for doubt. My brother died at her hand last year. I brushed her hand once and sometimes I still find myself thinking about it. She is a blight to us, but what could we do? Every story about this woman with the touch of death was first hand. Normally when he heard stories too incredible too believe the only sources were either unknown, moved on, or crazy. This woman though was real. Clarice was real.

The village had seemed unremarkable and Ruel had only intended to stay one night, but the stories had him curious. There was no way they could be true, but he wanted to meet the legend for himself. He had no idea how easily his wish would come true.

The minstrel had just finished having Ash, his horse, reshoed and was tying him up when something spooked the animal. Ruel tried to calm him down by speaking soft reassurances and petting him, but Ash bucked and tore away from him. Once the animal got just a little further down the row of buildings though, it stopped and looked back. He’d never seen his friend act that way.

The young man turned and suddenly saw the other effect of his animal’s tantrum. When he bucked, Ash had kicked up a mud puddle in the street throwing it straight across the front of a passing woman’s dress. The dress seemed nice enough for him to know it was likely ruined now. The woman still
seemed shocked it could have happened.

“I’m so sorry, my lady. Ash never acts that way. Is there anything I can do to make up for this?

Not being in the village for a whole hour she stood there, her front splattered in mud dripping down into her shoes. Her jaw tightened and eyes closed if only to give herself a moment to gather her thoughts. She was not angry about the dress. It was just a dress, a thing. Things don’t matter. She was absolutely irritated her evening was over.

Exhaling she assessed the man before her. Her face was void of emotion as she walked full circle around him. He was taller than her by more than a bit, rugged, inquisitive, genuinely apologetic, concerned both about his horse and her dress. Whether the latter was because of a concern for her or the cost of replacing such a garment she was uncertain. Reading new people had its drawbacks even though it was her favorite game. It was like reading a new map without a key. You can guess most things based on common sense. She knew one thing though; he did not have the fear one has when they know who she is. She had been crossing the street to get a better look, to see if this was indeed fresh meat.

“You are new here...” Her tone merely a flat statement rather than a question. She continued a second circle around him and the streets emptied of its inhabitants. No one wanted to be near her distempered form.

Her eyes had yet to meet his. They only took stock of what was before her as she decided what it was he could do to. He did not look well off so could not replace the dress and playing with him at the moment would still leave her with nothing to do the rest of the evening. So touching him wouldn’t even be as fun as she wanted it to be not ten minutes prior.

“You can make things right by laundering the dress and delivering it to the palace.” her hands rose as she spoke removing first one shoulder and then another from her dress. Slowly relieving a fine white silk shift. Tailored to perfection without being tight or immodest even with its twin slits up both her thighs. She finished slipping the dress from her self by stepping bare foot from its crumpled mass and the muddy remains of her shoes.

Having resigned to her own irritation she simply turned and walked in the direction of where her carriage would be waiting. Leaving him, jaw agape, in utter shock and disbelief, standing in the street with nothing more than her muddy dress to identify her with. All she had wanted was something to play with but her irritation would make playing with him far to short an experience. Not even the feel of the pebble littered walk would distract her from being even more irritated with him, herself and the damned horse. She knew better than to walk so close to an animal that she hadn’t introduced herself to. They all balked at death as much as humans do when surprised with it.

He’d expected some overly harsh punishment or steep payment, or possibly for her just to curse at him and storm off. This strange, but beautiful woman surprised him again however, more than he’d ever been surprised. Right there in the street she stripped off the dress, handed it to him, and walked off without a hint of shame, and somehow without losing any of her elegance.

Ruel was left standing in the streets holding the muddy white silk dress, as slowly, but surely life returned to the streets. Ash returned to his side and nudged him with his nose, but Ruel stood fast. What had just happened? An older woman walked up to him and stood for a moment looking off into the same distance the young wander was before speaking.

“I can help you wash it if you’d like. Some payment would be nice, but I don’t like to see her upset with anyone.”

“Alright, thanks. Was she upset with me? I wasn’t sure.”

“She isn’t yet, child. That’s what I’m trying to prevent.”

* * *

That evening Ruel stood at the palace gates with a lighter purse and a slightly stained white dress. The old woman had done all she could, but light reminders of the mud stains stubbornly remained. The guards allowed the youth entry without even asking his purpose. Presumably, she had told them to expect him or they had heard about the incident in town. A plainly dressed young woman met him just inside the gates.

“She’s waiting for you.”

“I haven’t even caught her name, could you tell me who all this belongs to?” His question went unanswered though and the musician was left to follow the servant deeper into the palace.

She had an agreement with the village, with the palace, with everyone in the kingdom. She was walking death but she would not hide it. She reported most of her activities to her guard. It was their job to inform those that needed to know if their was a body somewhere, and exactly where to find it. It wouldn’t do the kingdom any good if she hid her actions. She wasn’t the only person capable taking life. Though the village was one of the safest places besides the palace. Even miscreants knew she would hunt them down if they caused problems for her people.

She met her guard, informed them there was nothing to find except a confused new comer and he would be bringing her dress to her later. She told them nothing more. The ride back to the palace did not calm her, returning to the palace didn’t calm her, walking through the eerie quiet to her rooms didn’t calm her. The guards didn’t have to tell the staff. One look and they fled in a ripple effect that usually brought such a pleasing grin to her countenance.

One maid met her in her room. She was newer, terrified but confident. Either her craving over ran her fears or she was elected by the others to care for Clarice's temper. Laughing she knew it was more than likely the latter. One girl ousted for being too eager or obnoxious or cheerful or whatever the rest of the staff deemed a reason for the rest of them not to suffer today.

“As soon as you get off the floor, tell the rest of them I wish a bath immediately.” Her hand rose, the girl whimpered, her fingers trailed up the girl's arm, the girl shrieked, Clarice laughed. Breathing deeply she felt a little better, the girls scream still echoed in her head as her blond locks swept the floor. Crawling she left and Clarice went to her bath, needing to wash the rest of the mud from her and sooth her temper; baths helped with that.

Hours passed... She had her bath, one of the kings scribes had visited to confirm she left no bodies and affirm there may be one when her dress was returned, whenever that may be. It was his job, well his new position as the last scribe was far to inquisitive. She only talked to ones she liked to talk to and swatted the rest of the flies away. She also informed him that she would be eating in an hour at the top of the southern tower, so he would have her meal delivered there instead of trying to find her elsewhere.

* * *
He would be led by one of her maids through the brilliant maze that was the palace. All of her maids knew where she was at all times. She would not speak any more than nessessary, not watch him any more than needed and only stop walking when she reached the bottom of the tower and urged him to go on without her.

* * *

Stars shone brightly in the new night sky. She arrived very soon after her meal did. The berries still cold and the rare venison still hot. Moving the tray she sat on a long bench overlooking the wood and eating. Not long after having sat someone came up. This should be her alone spot, her place to get away from all the emotional chatter in the palace below but someone was joining her. He was tentative, unsure... there was fear present.. but not in the measure she usual y felt.

Not looking at the presence she spoke first while watching the sky twinkle.

“Come... sit.. eat with me and talk, I don't care what of, surprise me if you can.”

She made no reference of where he would sit. While the bench behind her was vacant the food was on the other end in front of her. No other seating was up there. This person would have to choose wisely to be able to complete all four of her commands.

The palace seemed massive. Ruel had been to one opulent home before of a king a few weeks west of here by foot. The stone fortress had been large, but hadn’t put nearly this kind of impression on the young man. This was a labyrinth or possibly a mausoleum with the quit halls and rooms that filled the place.

Finally, Ruel made the climb to the top of a tower alone. The maid had been less than helpful to him, so he wasn’t too sorry to see her go, but going up alone to see the woman was not appetizing either. Still, the young wanderer made his way up the staircase until he found her there. Sitting, peaceful and alone, eating her meal and watching the forest before her. He listened carefully to her requests when she made them and then set the dress on the unoccupied bench.
“Thank you, my lady.” Ruel sat down next to her without another moment’s thought and popped a berry into his mouth.

“My name is Ruel Durendal. I spend my time moving from one town to the next where I play music for the locals and explore what new lands have to offer me. I do not lead an extraordinary life, but the road and wind call me and there is hardly another life I could live. How should I address you, my lady?”

He was nervous about upsetting such a woman of prestige as her, but he refused to let it show through in his words. Part of him also suggested she might kill him, but Ruel dismissed it. Either she couldn’t or it wouldn’t matter.

His voice startled her from her thoughts. She didn't not expect to hear it so soon, if at all. When she felt someone coming up the tower... she never expected it to be the one from the village today. Even touched ones take more time to come to her. She was a bit surprised by this and the fact that he sat so close and leaned even closer to comply intrigued her greatly.

“You seem to have done every single thing I have asked of you today.”

Turning ever so slowly her eyes swept up his features: from his mud splattered shoes and slightly worn clothing to his straight backed posture and eyes that actually meet hers without prompting. It had been many years since someone dared be so completely improper with out being crass or rude in any way. She was in-fact completely delighted and it showed in all of her features.

His nervousness and demeanor clashed beautifully. He was going to be fun. Just enough bravery to look death in the face and just enough ignorance to discount its validity. Surely he was told about her in the village. She knew most of the stories but apparently they no longer included her name. He brushed aside his nerves and spoke plainly so it was apparent he was used to being put on the spot by others but she couldn't precisely place his emotional setting. Aside from being irritated by her maid, annoyed, curious, nervous and something else; she just didn't feel the usual fear she was used to eliciting from others. Either he was not afraid of death or he didn't believe she existed.

She plucked up the dress and examined its much cleaner state, standing and turning it and herself in the moon light. She always loved the way the moon played off of white silk. Giggling she threw it off the tower, leaning over the stone wall to watch it flutter this way and that, all the way to the courtyard below. Then she turned herself around, pulled a small coin purse from a pocket and dropped it in his lap as she made her way back to her dinner.

“Things are just things dear one and that purse should cover your.... shock to that fact”.

Laughing she bent and picked up a slice of venison, pausing before it reached her lips which smiled anew. She wanted to play with him and, yet, part of her just wanted to talk to him. It was odd.

“You may call me what ever you wish, but my name is Clarice. I do not know my family name. What I do want to know though is why you're here, aside from me telling you to be. I truly didn't expect that dress to come that clean so quickly. Nor did I expect you to hand deliver it to me. Most people don't even make it to the palace gates in search of me without dire need.”

Ruel opened his mouth to say something as the dress he’d cleaned fluttered out the window, but he closed it. When she explained herself the bard smiled. In many ways she was right, but he still lived his life coin to coin and meal to meal, so he took the offered money anyway.
“You asked me to come, Clarice,” he told her trying out the woman’s name. “I had possibly destroyed your dress and put a damper on your mood at the least. The least I could have done was to do what you requested of me. I was going to apologize for not getting it cleaner, but I see that doesn’t matter to you.”

Ruel took a thin slice of the hot nearly bloody meat and popped it in his mouth as well. There was nothing for him to wipe his fingers on and he would not wipe them on himself in front of her, so he licked the juice from his fingers.

“You have me curious though,” he informed Clarice. “You didn’t want the dress back, but you gave it to me to clean. I have to wonder why. It makes me think you wanted to walk the street without it or that you wanted me to return here. I hope I’m not being rude, but am I wrong, my lady?”

It felt strange speaking to this supposed lady of death this way, but the question had bothered him and she had enjoyed his straightforward actions up to this point. He wasn’t sure if he was really flirting with her or not though. As beautiful and tempting as her form was she mostly made him curious about her. She was like a dark puzzle he had found, and she made him imagine what he might find if the pieces were put together just so.

Clarice grinned at hearing her name on his tongue. Usually having to request it more often than not. Listening to him talk and eat and even question her was more entertainment than she had had in quite a while. At least on this level. She usually had to watch from shadows to see people even begin to relax in speech. But this one... actually talked; pointed out a possibility that she may have wanted him or the entire village to see her dressed so immodestly. No one had questioned her motives in the years since her alliance with the king.

Sitting back down on the bench she ate her fill, licking stray juices from delicate fingers and continuing the blunt conversation with equal honestly that most find startling. She was neither put off by his approach nor faltered meeting it head on. She simply didn’t know what it was to have delicate sensibilities like so many ladies of court had and she didn’t need to have them. She was Clarice.

“You're not rude but you are delightfully wrong on all accounts. The dress does matter. It was one of my favorites. I tossed it in my private courtyard. It will be found by morning and farther cleaned or remade. It is just a thing but I wanted it back and I was not carrying nor wearing the muddy mess all the way back home.

“As to my want to walk the street nearly nude that would be intensely funny if I cared whether I was fully clothed no matter where I went. People don’t care if I dress like the queen, a milk maid or a traveling whore so why should I. They only care about my uncovered skins proximity to theirs.”

Gigging her fingers tapped her bottom lip thinking of startled faces if she were to take such a thing even farther.
“You know, that might actually be fun, to walk the village nude. I've only ever walked the wood that way and animals really don’t care if I’m not dressed.”

Her eyes glittered as her dialog progressed. Feeling him war with himself between his curiosity, hide more shock and even a shadow of arousal. Pure natural arousal was a delicious feeling to feel from others. Far, far different from the craving glean of most Touched and not usually elicited by her for very long. Not once someone realized what she was. Her mirth faded a touch at that thought. New ones were only fun in that way for so long. Then they became not more than toys to play with until broken.

“And as for wanting you here. It was nothing personal. I like new ones, new people. They often have a few surprises to add to the adventures of my days. So yes, I did want you here for unspecific reasons but now I'm glad I asked. You seem interesting.”

Her words stopped. Her maid silently waited in the towers shadowy entry. She nodded her head to the girl and she came into view. She cast glances at him but her eyes barley left Clarice. She was half shaking but kept her composure as she reached for the now empty tray. Clarice's fingertips brushed the girls hand.

“Thank you, Marie.”
Marie shuttered with a small smile and whispered 'thank you, Clarice.' before turning to leave on silent but almost running footsteps.

The young man intently watched the exchange between the maid and Clarice. That was just what the villagers spoke of. The brief touch had obviously affected the girl, but it was hard to tell if it had been painful or pleasurable for her. When the maid left he asked his next question.

“What is it? Do you know? I’d ask to experience a touch of it, but I’m not sure. I think you like the new ones because they don’t look at you just as your touch, whether it makes them fear or desire you.”

As their exchange continued Ruel felt like he was pushing farther and farther with her and that she might soon grow angry with him. So far, she mostly seemed amused, but that could change.

Her eyes drifted back to him... a different fire glittered there. So much more than amusement.. her voice cooled, still pleasant but she did not disguise its shifting tonality. Her head canted to the side weighing his words and her reply.

"It... it is what I am. I have always been a walking poison, death in living flesh. I am not touched so I cannot tell you how it feels. Only that it changes them. Would change you...."

"Is it not everyones wish to find and interact with ones that desire and fear who you are, not just.. what."

She stood... and closed their distance, leaving room for her hand to stretch between them. To come close to his face while she whispered...

"You need to figure out your sureness. For I know mine. You will only be new for so long.. but that doesn't cause me great displeasure. Having it stripped away, that innocence, that naivety can never be granted back. Be sure in this fact, your time here is limited. Choose wisely."

She stepped back dropping her hand... it was not a decision she expected him to make in an instant, if at all. But the longer he stayed. The closer he was to becoming Touched.

“I don’t like to change,” he told her, his voice suddenly becoming much more solemn. “I don’t do it easily either. I know I look young, but I’ve been through a lot. At the end of the day or week I always move on though. I hope it doesn’t upset you, but nothing else has so far, but I will leave. I’ve never found a reason to stay.”

Ruel stepped back and turned to look out the window. “I need to be out there. I won’t become like the men in the stories I’ve heard. I think I can resist it. Maybe that’s arrogant, but I think I can.” He left it at that.

The wandering soul didn’t look back at her. He wanted to feel what it was like, feel the thing that had made her unique and clearly changed her in a very permanent way, not just physically, but mentally as well. She had embraced her role as a walking poison. There was more to this woman than death though and he wanted to find it and share it with her.

"Everyone resists change but its in your very being to do just that. Every taste, breath, everyone you talk to, every decision you make changes you in some small, ever evolving way. Why would your apparent nature upset me?"

Watching him turn away, hearing that small, so small word again. It didn't matter that he almost dripped in a despair shed never felt before. that she could feel the longing for the distance and something... just something else entirely. She walked up behind him spoke so quietly but clearly that to him it would feel as though the words literally formed where her warm breath soaked through his shirt.

"You are being arrogant, its human nature. You think you can resist something you have never experienced. Curiosity and arrogance still kills as dead as hiding in some cave wishing death will never find you. You act as thought you are perpetually in a cage, as if you would just jump out that window and fly if you could. Well, you cannot. You would simply fall.

You, sir, changed the moment you stepped on this kingdoms grounds. You already despair in the thought you will never leave. Resist every or any urge you have and it only makes it that much stronger. But hear me now. I am not an IT... You think you resist IT. You're unsure if you want IT. You keep calling me IT and your body will never even think to flap its arms in its one chance to try and fly"

“You’re right. If I thought I could fly out there right now I probably would try. I didn’t mean to be calling you IT. I just wanted to feel your touch so maybe I could understand you better. Since I first started hearing about you, Clarice, I wanted to know more. When I met you I found myself wanting to understand you, to know who you are beyond just what you or anyone else says. I didn’t mean to dehumanize you.”

Another deep breath as the minstrel looked out at the landscape. Miles still unexplored, towns to host him, lives to change, and then more beyond them. If she did change him somehow and seduce him into staying here, how could he live with the wanderlust that always called him?

Ruel turned away from the window and faced her again. He took his steps closely until it might be possible she would brush against him without meaning to do it. He took his hand and nearly touched her face with it. Instead, he ran his hand along her body just barely not coming in contact with her. As it passed over her hip he pulled it back to his side.

“Don’t make me stay,” he told her, “I know you may not care the same way other people do, but if I stay I might as well die.” He was quiet for another moment before making the request officially. “Will you touch me, Clarice?”

She had backed away from him, he didn’t even flinch at her threat, not even a shiver. It was more an acceptance and a plea all on its own. She had never seen anyone so impossibly conflicted and determined for freedom as he was. It was as though life itself were a prison and possibility at once. The pain of conflicting wants was palatable but his desires were so in-tune with his words. He actually meant he wanted to get to know her. It was completely confusing. Not that she wasn’t used to people being confusing. It just never really mattered, never truly entered her span of thoughts or desires. Ever since her mother's death she had always done just what she desired to do.

She froze as solidly as granite. If he were to touch her, like this she had no idea what would happen to him. Her head canted, watching him, trying to make sense of word and feeling. His and hers. Looking up into his eyes she wanted to lean into his touch but didn’t She wanted him to stay, to flesh out if what he said and felt were a reality beyond a driving curiosity. As he believed his words with all that he was but she, she never believed anything were true beyond the fact that everything is born and everything dies.

She planted both hands on his cloth-covered chest and pushed him backwards onto the bench. She began pacing the tower animatedly talking to herself, talking to him, hell talking more than she liked to.

“You... you talk of staying and going and you.. you cause me to be conflicted. I'm never conflicted. Everything is black and white, yet you speak and feel in shades of gray. You would die if I made you stay, yet you will die eventually if you go. So what does it matter.”

“You want my touch and want freedom, flight and fancy. I do not trap those I touch. They choose to stay close to the feeling I bring them. Not a soul here is kept like that, they are here of their own free will. With the exception of prisoners but their crimes do not warrant imprisonment like other kingdoms. Heavy crimes are a death sentence and minor ones the perpetrator wears a collar that can only be removed by my touch but they are free to work off their sentence within the kingdom.”

She spun on her heel staring at him, she was rambling. How in the world did one man create such a thing to happen. She didn’t want him to leave. Yet if he stayed, if she were to allow him his desire of knowing her he would fall into the touch just as the rest do. He already desired to feel it, to appease his curiosity, to challenge himself. She already wanted to know just how long he would last. Would he last through one kiss? How many touches until his heart grew weak? How long could she bed him? She didn’t know. She wanted to know but that meant... he would change.

She closed the distance between them. A soft smile tugged her lips and her eyes danced with solid conviction. She simply wouldn’t be conflicted. She didn’t like the feeling at all. She wanted her inner peace back and for that she would watch him fly.

“You have committed no crime save one. Tempting death herself. And I care enough not to trap you here or place any other prisons within your mind... Yes I will touch you and then you may go where ever your heart desires”

Like liquid, she flowed into his lap, her knees slid over his thighs resting on the bench and her hands rose to cup his neck just as her lips captured the gasp that tried to escape them. The scent of his fear and his desires filled her nose and her grip tightened, her kiss deepened, her thumbs found his pulse in his neck racing as she poured every emotion from the day into that one kiss. She could feel his hands find her hips, his fingers dig into her skin through her dress crushing her to him and she didn’t stop. She devoured every sound he made, every breath he exhaled until she could no longer hold up his lifeless weight.

She kissed his cheek and whispered ' You're free' against his skin and pried herself from his loosening grip. Clarice turned and left the tower, listening to his body slip off the bench, both hoping and dreading ever meeting someone again that so blinded her ability to think in black and white. Humming to herself she retired for the evening wondering what the new day would bring.

He hadn’t expected it to be this way. When she touched him she became the only thing he could see. The rest of the world did not darken, but his focus on her became so intense nothing could have torn it away. He knew the rest of the world was there, but it didn’t matter. At the center of it all was the feel of her touch. It began as a gentle, inviting, warmth, like that of a fire on a warm night. As the experience continued though, as the world fell away from his mind, that warmth grew into something that pierced his heart and soul with a primal fire. Her fingers. Her lips. He’d never had such a kiss, but as it continued it became more. It became less like the most passionate kiss he’d ever had from a woman and more of powerful eldritch experience.

It crept in slowly muted by the ecstasy of it all. Numb and slow like leaving your hand in water that slowly rose to a boil over the fire. The dull quality it had faded though until he could feel it start to tear at him all over, not just where her skin touched his, but all through him. The pain was a rocking intensity that was hard to handle. He could feel his body failing under the force of her being, but it felt like he was in a dream. Even counting himself, the only thing he perceived with clarity was Clarice.

Ruel would not have pushed her away if he could have though.

* * *

Soft padding of timid feet was the first thing the wander heard. He heard it almost echoing in his mind even before he opened his eyes. The tower was very dark now and the stone beneath him was cold. Sleep still weighed heavily on Ruel’s young shoulders, but he struggled to his feet. He expected a wound, or even just a burn. Something. In fact, however, Ruel felt better than he had in a long long time. Sleep hung over him, but not out of exhaustion. It was the feeling of having slept too long. The only thing different about him was his heart. It sang with the feeling Clarice. A shadow of what he had felt from her before, but still very present at his very core.

The feet he’d heard earlier brought a frightened young woman. Her face had paled and her eyes went wide as she registered Ruel’s form as a living man in the starlight that streamed in from the window. Climbing up onto his knees the minstrel looked up at the quietly shaking brunette and spoke.

“You have nothing to fear from me, my dear. Can you tell a confused stranger the time of night?”

She screamed. Ruel winced as the willowy girl must have just woken up half the countryside, not to mention the inhabitants of the castle. Then, nearly tripping over herself, she bolted down the stairs. If only to silence the servant, Clarice would be back here soon. Lifting himself off the ground he went to the window and, leaning on the sill, stared out into the night. He couldn’t have explained how, but the horizon seemed different now than it had before. Looking down briefly, he noted the labyrinth the structure below him created. It would be a wonder if he ever made his way out. Ruel chuckled at the idea of being lost for days in a single building. Clarice certainly lived a life the young man had never imagined.

Hearing a scream wasn’t anything new. Though it usually happened when she was awake... Not pulling her from a dead sleep at almost the crack of dawn. Climbing out from between her sheets she pulled on her robe just a newer maid exploded through the door followed by three more. The girl was blubbering on about how mean one of the maids was. Getting her all frightened of Clarice. Telling her that the lady had killed someone last night and the dismembered body was up in the tower. Scaring her to the point of terror and all that was up there was a sleeping man.

“What do you mean 'sleeping'. There very well should have been a corpse in my tower. I left it there.”

“No Ma'am. They sent me in to check on him and he was very much awake and asking for the time.”

Clarice was sure the maids were playing jokes on the new girl. There simply wasn’t an in-between when it came to life. One was either alive or dead. Her feet flew carrying her through the palace. She had to see whom was playing the part of the male in this joke as everyone was going to be earning some very hefty chores for waking her so early.

Leaving all the maids at the bottom of the tower was a very good idea for she could very well have screamed herself had she had any breath to scream that is. Her entire being paused. This was far, far from black and white. This had to be a mistake. While some took longer to die than others they didn’t recover.

Silently her feet propelled her forward again. It was definitely the same person from the market. She stood directly behind him watching and listening to him breath. Simply and completely perplexed.

“How?” She jumped as he did when she spoke. Curiosity and disbelief colored her every feature. Reaching out she poked at him.

“How are you doing that.... breathing... What is the meaning of this?”

In most places there was at least the song of crickets or frogs in the night air, but this castle had neither of those things. Only because of the silence, Ruel could hear the start start to stir. Whether it was because of him or simply the routine of the day beginning he wasn’t sure, but he could hear the people starting their days. Soft light slowly began creeping over the horizon and the stars faded. The sun wasn’t up yet, but the signs were there.

“How?” Somehow Clarice had snuck up on him. The young man shouldn’t have been surprised to know she could, but it had still startled him. The rest of her question confused him more.

“I’m breathing the same way that you are, Clarice. Is there any other way to breath?” There was confusion evident in her that he hadn’t seen the day before. It was almost nice to know that there was more than the stoic face she’d shown him. Had she tried to kill him? Was that why she was so confused? The experience had been extremely intense, but Ruel had never thought the woman would really try to take his life.

“I don’t know why,” he told her, “does it matter?”

“I’m breathing the same way that you are, Clarice. Is there any other way to breath?”

She was confused but his question was absurdly funny. "Of-course there are other ways to breath but you are not a fish a snail or a tree. So it should not be possible." She laid her hand on his shirt over his beating heart. It beat just as strong as it should for a man his size. "Why are you not dead?"

“I don’t know why,” he told her, “does it matter?”

Her fingers bunched his shirt and she pulled him with her down and out of the tower, along a corridor, several in-fact. Jabbering away until she came to her hall. There maids servants and guards alike immediately stood with their backs to the walls.

"Matter, of-course it matters! While no I did not try to kill you. Least not directly. I didn't try to 'not' kill you either. Which in turn should have killed you. So you understand?"

"Hm." Releasing him she went to a line of people in a row. All of whom stiffened expectantly. "You see, though not talked about openly. Might not even be talked about at all. My touch, the effect is based in intent or my mood or their mood or their intent. Any combination, really, of any of them along with control. Tis why I sleep alone. Waking to corpses for so many years I got tired of not enjoying the end so I don't bother with it. Anyway...' She reached out and gently stroked a maids nose from tip to brow. The girls eyes fluttered, smiling and Clarice moved on to the next and repeated the touch. This time though the maids face contorted in pain and gasped.

"You see, intent and control. Each touch felt differently but they will still live nearly as long as if I had not touched them but..." She stepped in-front of a taller guard and crooked a finger beckoning him to bend close to her. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his nose. The mans eyes flew open moaning out a breath. Clarice stepped aside and he fell solidly, swiftly to the floor never to retrieve his breath. No one else in the hall moved though some closed their eyes. Turning back to Ruel she continued talking as though the demonstration were commonplace. "he won't. So you see, I intended not to kill two but only to touch, to feel them beneath my fingertip. The last however my intent was.... damn-it, it was to kill him. Thus the result. I know that doesn't help my explanation much but should given the first two are still alive. Wait no.... that doesn't help either.... Let's try this again." She turned on her heel heading across the hall to another line when she felt his fingers close around her arm.

Ruel was beginning to understand her, but not in the way she was trying to explain. Something about her touch could be fatal and he should have died. The young man understood that much, but the greater truth that shone through was how little she cared about life. She’d just killed a man trying to explain why she was surprised to see him breathing. He grabbed her arm and instantly felt what he’d felt the night before. It was subtler, but definitely there, spreading through him. Ruel did his best to ignore it.

“You don’t have to do that, Clarice. I think I understand.” It would be no use arguing with her about the importance of life. If she’d always been this way it would be like trying to discuss color with a blind man. Still he couldn’t just sit by and watch as she took the lives of her servants.

“I know what should have happened and why. You didn’t want to hurt me I just should have died. The one thing I do not understand is why it is so important to you. I’m here.” He regretted it, but Ruel dropped his hand from her arm. It would be entirely too easy to get lost in her, and the idea that had might never find his way away from her and out into the world again frightened him. It didn’t frighten him enough to send him away though.

Looking down at his fingers her eyes slowly took in his arm and then his form. She watched him shake off the effect of her skin and keep talking. It was amazing. It took her servants years to be able to talk through their sensations if they even lasted that long.

"I know what should have happened and why. You didn't’t want to hurt me I just should have died. The one thing I do not understand is why it is so important to you. I’m here.”

"I'm glad you see that i wasn't trying to hurt you... but... What is important... is just that... That you are here... still."

She reached out and took his shirt in one hand and stopped letting her hand trail down and away. Her mind reeled with a thousand questions and a million more possibilities. She could touch him. As she stood there her bottom lip found its way between her teeth and her hand went tentatively back up. Touching and trailing up his nose just like the first maid. She switched hands and touched him again just like the second maid. She really could touch him. More than once. Her finger crooked beckoning him just like the guard, to bend forward.

As he did her eyes went to his. She still couldn't believe the truth that he was still alive much less standing there now. She had to see, to test. Her heart raced like a frightened rabbit and skipped like the happiest child holding that same creature for the first time. "Please don't move." she whispered with a hundred emotions. It was a plea, a challenge, a request. She had never wanted someone to live before. Just because someone survived in once didn't mean it would happen again. She rose on tiptoe and brushed a fleeting kiss to his lips. She didn't jump back but stepped instead. Though her eyes never left his.

Her smile washed from head to foot as his eyes reopened and his lungs took in air. "My you are a surprise" she breathed.

It wasn’t as bad, or as good as before, but he still felt that unique heat spread through him when her lips touched his. He did his best not to reveal what an effect she had on him, but Ruel couldn’t help but think the woman already knew.

“My you are a surprise.”

“I try,” he told her with a quiet breath that still felt like it had filled the room. Then the young man that had survived her touch, her power, stepped forward and pulled Clarice into his arms. He wanted more, not out of sheer desire to have that feeling again, but to show her he could handle it. Ruel wanted to show Clarice that he wouldn’t wilt away like all the others before him had.

One hand disappeared into her beautiful dark hair and pulled her further in. It was like standing in a fire, but somehow not being burned. He could feel what should have been pain from her, but instead it was simply intoxicating. His body both screamed to him to stop and begged for more. Knowing which he wanted Ruel brought his lips to Clarice’s soft pale skin at her neck. He didn’t know how he was staying in control or even awake, but he went to her ear next and whispered.

“You want to know how much of a surprise I am, don’t you?”

Want and desire literally wrapped her tightly. She stood more than surprised and more than a bit shocked. Never in her life had she been entangled in just this way.

Well yes, exactly like this but not this way. She had had requests for some to die in an embrace and much much younger she had thought someone expressing love could let them in but they all died none the less. Their intent was wrong, she could feel it. Greed or pride filled their motives and she was but a tool to get it. His intent was just different.

Through her emotions and his she couldn't decipher which were hers and which were his. That was just so abnormal. Usually there was some glaring malintent and her power would do what it does but no, not this time.

Her eyes searched his face. Her want mirrored in his eyes... the same but different than what she usually sees. She shivered, delighted, completely captivated by the warmth and need in the fingers tangled in her hair, in the touch of his lips to her skin. Feeling his breath shiver over hers. The pure excitement being rebounded through every place he touched.

“You want to know how much of a surprise I am, don’t you?”

Was he asking her or himself? She didn't know. All she did know was that this, whatever this was wasn't happening in front of any who passed by, any that were still here... Rather anymore. Her mood shifted. Her stance stopped it's melt and stood back straight. Her mind screamed no as her hands pressed his chest unlocking him from the embrace. She wanted to be unguarded, open to explore him but this new vulnerability was an absolute shock to her stability.

Her eyes went wide with so many wants. Her breath caught just as much as it did with his lips upon her skin. She nodded her head. More to her than to him. She did want to know just how surprising he could be, might be... will be.

Stepping back she turned and walked away. "Follow me."

Her feet stuck to the floor after a few steps, turning she took his hand and lead him out of others sight.

Ruel found himself wondering what made him different to her. She’d shown him that she didn’t care what anyone saw when she walked naked through the streets and idly killed that man. Now, Clarice was guiding him by the hand away from prying eyes. She was someone unique.

Ruel had travelled so many places and met so many people that they’d started to seem the same to him. Every bully, harlot, child, farmer, and man of the law had their own quirks that made them who they were, but with each new town Ruel found that the faces of strangers were becoming more familiar. Clarice was different though. Even setting her supernatural nature aside, Clarice was unlike anyone he’d ever met and he wanted to know more. So he followed her quietly through the maze like halls of her home, waiting to see what came next.

Her fingers tightened and relaxed as she walked. Her head shook and free hand danced in front of her as her inner turmoil played out in her head. She needed to be free of all others presence. She needed to think, clearly, about this possibility and improbability. She still didn't believe it. He could still die very very soon or soon-ish. Sure, she craved feeling deaths kiss. It was a finality that was hers alone aside from nature. But to have someone that she could touch when she wanted... and not have the conversation over, or stopped... To share a kiss, and then another with the same person. Then, the other side of that coin. Someone that could touch her. Could he touch her with malice as well as desire.

At some point she has started speaking out loud, in half words and phrases that cut off abruptly. Clarice pulled Ruel toward an alcove with an overly large vase tucked into it.

"Come out at once!" she commanded to the vase, or so it seemed. A mane of dark hair followed by a child with equally dark eyes tumbled out from his hiding spot. She felt Ruels' tension both within her fingers and radiating off of him in icy waves. Her face half turned to him and she bore her emotionless mask but her eyes didn't leave the little charge as he rose to his full height, clasping his wrists behind his back. His form was identical to the soldiers inspection stance with a twinkle to his eyes and trying, failing miserably but trying, to mimic her mask.

"Your report?" She asked the little one, holding her free hand up for Ruels silence. She breathed very deeply hoping she could at lease take some of the tension from Ruel through her touch. She had to pry her self away from his hand as his tension in that moment nearly shown through her features. He didn't calm until Clarice and the boy continued their conversation.

"Six ma'am," he said proudly "four boys, two girls, all brown."

Her brow hitched a fraction "And the mother?"

"Protective." He added holding out his bandaged left hand.

"Good. She should be. You have much to learn." Clarice searched the pocket of her robes and pulled out several hard sugar candy's. "I have another job for you before you return to the pups."

The boys hands cupped just below Clarice's outstretched, candy laden hand.

"Find your mother. Tell her my wing is to be cleared of every person, young or old, by the time the sun crests the east wall. She and ONLY she is allowed to answer my bell and no one returns to my wing until I give permission. Even if that takes a week."

"Right away Ma'am" Clarice dropped one candy.

"No one you hear me. If anyone disturbs me unbidden puppies wont be allowed in the castle till you are 21." she finished her order by dropping the rest of the candy in his hand and watched him snap his astonished mouth closed, taking off down the hall like a cat after fat mouse.

She spun on her heel and studied the strange expression on Ruels face. "Children within the Castle proper don't fear death." It was a simple statement she hoped would ease the rest of his tension.

"Raise your arms, lacing your fingers behind your neck, now." Her tone brooked no argument. She was accustomed to people following order but she did add, "Please." As she waited patiently for him to comply. She knew he was confused but to her, confusing your enemy was precisely what would win you a battle. She was confused five minutes prior and nearly took a strange man that had the ability to touch her into her private quarters, alone. Normally something she had no problems with no matter what weapons they carried. She had only once previously been in danger before but she would not repeat the same mistake.

Looking up into his eyes she smiled her gratitude and stroked her hands up his ribs, firmly all the way up along his biceps and back down. She felt his entire chest then lower abdomen before his waist. Her fingers closed on the dagger tied to his belt. Unsheathing it she turned and dropped it in the vase returning to him and smoothing her hands over the rest of his body, including wriggling her fingers within the tops of his boots.

"Thank you." She stated as she finished checking him for weapons. People could be seen silently slipping out of exits at either end of the hall while she slid her hands back up to pull his arms free from behind his neck. She smiled again. He was odd. Only one dagger and it was utilitarian, Only mildly ornate but well used and cared for. She laced her fingers into only one of his hands and continued down her corridors to her string of rooms. As they walked she explained a bit more about the child as though her search of him had never even occurred. She was never so glad for an interruption to break her train of thought as she was for that child. She wanted to be alone but had nearly put herself in harms way. Not that she felt he would try to cause her harm. That truly rattled her. Everyone she had ever known had some kind of malice toward her unless the innocence of childhood hadn't been shed yet.

"The boy was nearly trampled in the stables trying to pet a new foal. He needs to learn how to care for animals on the animals terms. Lucky for him a litter of pups were due and not a litter of wolverines."