Dark Desires

Sitting on the corner of the bed, she ran the sharpening stone over the edge of the blade. The sound of the metal against the wet rock sent shivers through her naked form. Behind her, Sutrakarre snored softly. She’d worn him out completely this time, despite his every attempt to do the same to her. Poor man. I’ve had years of practice at this. She slid the fine blade across her forearm, watching the blood well up. It wasn’t a large cut, so she just left it to bleed while she picked up the next.

Eliân Morningsong’s mind wandered from target to target. Right now, she desperately wanted to hurt someone. The new situations with the House kept her from her fun in Suramar. No one cared how many of the felsworn died, or how for that matter. She’s had plenty of opportunities to test her newest arsenal of poisons. The latest, she grinned wide thinking, oh those results were beautiful. Oh, how they writhed on the floor!

Tonight however, her will was bent on another. Someone attempted to hurt a member of the House. Though she had escaped, the things that had been said to her and done to her lit a fire within the assassin. Cruelty was something she would not abide towards an innocent. Cruelty is reserved for the cruel, her mind screamed.

Another slice to her arm and she was satisfied. Wiping them both down with oils, she stood and walked to her small worktable. Picking up a jar of dried gravemoss, she opened it and dropped a handful into the mortar. Selecting a few other items, she piled them together and picked up the pestle. If I adjust this properly, the man will know a very special kind of pain. He will beg me to fix it and let him go. And then….then I will have some fun.