Blood dripping from her hands again. White snow with only drops of red to show it’s lost innocence, that was the image of her hands.
“Away damn spot, away! Will not all the perfumes of Arabia not sweeten this little hand?” (Macbeth, Lady Macbeth)
‘Rheynne stood over a little boy, his straight golden hair softly lain about him, and his blue eyes looking up at the ceiling as if a prayer to God. He was truly an angel. His small neck was twisted at an odd angle, and his top lip was split down the middle. Dead was the angel of God.
Her hands dripped of blood, and her heart which should have been dripping with repentance was merely glowing with happiness. She clapped her hands and smiled merrily at the boys death. It made her happy. Her first kill made her HAPPY.’
It was a dream that haunted her. The golden hair angel of God, looking so pious, with his eyes to the sky. “In God we trust.” Even the coins which she spent caused her to flinch. Rheynne had never been one for regret, but ahh, how she regretted killing the child that followed her.
(Sort of like Terra…She never disappears. Everywhere I turn, she is there.)
As if called on some wind, a girl walked in through the tall archway. Her brown hair streaming about her in lucious curls the color of autumn dulled leaves. Her outfit was that of a queen, gold and glittering in the dim castle light. Her eyes a sullen gray gazed out beneith shadowing lashes.
Rheynne thought it was an illusion at first, something brought about with the blood. It had that kind of drunk affect on her, even if it was only in her dreams.
But it wasn’t an illusion…this girl was real…
(Terra?)
The pace with which the girl set was brisk and controlled. She was slim and tall, just like Rheynne, and when she got to the steps of the thrown, seemed powerful, even with her loss of height.
“Rei?” Rheynne’s eyes glistened with tears as she flew down the stairs and into the girl’s arms. Her heart seemed to overflow.
“The emptiness which once consumed me like a dying ember has finally with drawn. You are here…My Terra.” Terra smiled and kissed her lips. It was a flutter of kisses. Her lips, and then her forhead, her cheeks, and then her hands, and then her lips again, all inflicted with kisses.
They stung…like beestings, and for a moment every part of Rheynne tingled. Every place Terra’s lips had touched there was pain, and pleasure. (I want her lips everywhere on me, and I want her arms around me, and for her to never let me go.)
“Hush geneth…I know what you want.” Behind those dark eyes Rheynne had hidden, but now she couldn’t. Terra pushed the black hair away from her eyes, and smiled with a tinge of sorrow. “I couldn’t bare the stories I’d heared. So I came back to you…A queen with a vengence so much blacker than her kingdom. Rheynne whose hands will never be washed of the blood which she has spilt, though unlike Lady Macbeth she holds no regret.”
She watched as Rhyenne’s face twitched and her eyes fell to the floor in slight embaressment. “I have killed many since you have gone, and my taste for blood has only grown more rich.”
“Ah, yes. And it matters not what age, or gender she mutilates…she is heartless.” Her lips made the shape of happiness, but really it was amusement.
“It was not the stories of the death, or the pain, or the sex that brought me Rei. It was your heart.” Rheynne could have collapsed into the woman’s arms. Her golden arms, which had been a sanctuary since she could last remember; they had also been a place of near death.
Terra took Rheynne into her arms….for good or for bad.