Thrice Upon the Heart, The Lioness and Wolf Start

Act 1, Scene 4

Thrice Upon the Heart, The Lioness and Wolf Start

Having kept his promise to Sapphire, all four had spent the day playing games, watching a few movies and then just chatting amongst themselves.

Maricella was a mystery to everyone so it had started with her. To Christopher's ear, she was either a good liar or she had an immaculate cover story, which sometimes account for both.

An only child, she had inherited a modest trust left by her parents after a sickness had unexpectedly left her an orphan. She had been old enough to care for herself and spent the remainder of her high school years preparing for college. She had decided after a year of college, that she would much rather work for the time being and supplement her income to keep from using up her trust and as fortune would have it, found herself at the same agency as Christopher. 

As for Christopher, his sister and mother were far too delighted to fill in Maricella. Having completed high school at seventeen, he had been accepted into the university of his choice and within three years had graduated with top honors in the field of civil engineering. Once the more mundane aspect of his academic achievements were done away with, all three ladies then poured over the fat stack that was primarily picture albums.

Though Christopher found this mildly embarrassing, he contented himself with drinking his iced tea and pondering his new course and new lease on life.

Oddly enough, he felt slightly dejected by the prospect that his life should have ended yesterday. He wanted to feel sorry for himself, but those emotions evaporated when he looked upon the smiling face of his sister and that of his erratic mother. Having to think of them in mourning for his loss was unacceptable and more so now because of Maricella. He owed her a debt he could never repay.

It wasn't long before the albums were picked clean, the thought of hyenas and other carrion eaters brought a morbid sense of amusement out of Christopher, but how could any male, of any species, understand the mind of a female?

"Miss Adara, I thank you for your hospitality. I can't thank you enough for the warmth you've offered me on such short notice."

Christopher's mom just beamed at her a rather bright smile, waving it off as she put away the albums,

"Don't be silly, Maricella. I'm repaying you for keeping my son from sleeping in a gutter somewhere. He would have never been man enough to come home after a night of heavy drinking."

Wonderful, thanks for the clever alibi, now they think I'm a lush.

"You're more than welcome! I'll keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't overindulge himself next time."

"Wha--!! Wait just a minu--!"

"Maricella," said his mother, a voice thick with dramatically reenactment quality, as she walked over to Maricella, wiping an imaginary tear from her eyes with her free hand, as the other took and gripped one of Maricella's, "He doesn't deserve you!"

"Hey!" 

This was getting out of hand… again!

"Now Chrissy,"

Of course Sapphire had to say something, "Just because you're a lush doesn't excuse you from bad behavior."

"I am not a lush!! I miscalculated!"

The looks all three of them gave him were rather nonplussed, but Maricella seemed to be the most entertained.

Now I'm playing to the damnable lie she started! Ugh!

"Whatever. I'm going to take a shower and then head to bed. I'm sure the conversation will be far less enjoyable without me around to hear it."

There were a few playful jeers, but he was having none of it.

Having picked up his glass of tea, he finished off the rest as he walked into the kitchen, with the used glassed firmly set inside the sink, he headed for the bathroom. For the time being, he didn't care about anything else. They could have fun at his expense and laugh until morning. In that space of time between turning on that hot running water and shutting it off again, it was his time and no one else. Nothing matter but the heat of the water upon his body. He had always enjoyed the isolation he felt when he showered, thankful for the plumbing and tankless water heater that produced such a luxury. 

In that moment in time, all his troubles just melted away. The very same feeling he had when he went swimming. Perhaps it was a simple matter of a love of water.

After about an hour, he finished up the necessary rituals and wrapped up in a towel, trotted upstairs to his bedroom. The fan in his room made for a handy way to dry off and in no time, he was wearing a pair of shorts and lying on his bed. As he had made his way upstairs, he had heard their collective laughter.

Good, now I can get some rest for once…

Slowly, as he let his mind slip off into the nether, as he allowed his body to fall asleep.

…

He was suddenly awakened, but before he could react, a blade materialized upon his throat. 

His eyes weren't adjusting quickly enough in the darkness, but his sense of smell told him immediately who was using the knife against him.

"Maricella..."

He wanted to swallow, but was afraid to do so. She was straddling him, the knife effectively pinning him down on the bed. He felt her hand press up against his chest as she leaned into him.

"...have you decided that you've had enough of me?"

"Perhaps. You left me. Why did you leave me?"

"You three were having some fun at my expense; I didn't want to disturb the mood."

Her laugh was but a murmur,

"You really are sensitive under all those layers of callous skin and soul."

This earned her a growl from Christopher, but the knife pressed up against him even harder.

"Oh? A dog growling at his master?" 

There was a dangerous tone behind the smirk.

"A wolf, growling for his life."

"That's a curious term to use, when did you become a wolf?"

"Why are you using something as crude as a knife, don't you have claws or something more exotic?"

Why in the nine Hells am I taunting her like this?!

"You really are something else, my dearest darkling. The lioness and the wolf, sounds like a fable of some sorts, don't you agree?"

Her sudden kiss was what surprised him the most, only this time there was no vitae. Only her lips against his.

Vitae, the ancient word for blood.

He returned her kiss, leaning up against the blade and in the process drawing blood. There it was again, the irrational desire to be close to this woman.

After a deliciously agonizing minute of kissing and the sharp pain at his neck, she pulled away. She smiles, but without flashing her teeth, just her lips curl upward slightly. 

A thin thread of their saliva still holding them precariously together. 

This moment suddenly burning within his brain. 

What was this? Her blood that now flowed within him, was this an irrational thought? He knew her essence resided within him, but in what form? Or was this a more mundane reaction? His body reacting to such a desirable woman?

Why do you have this effect on me?

"You're so very naïve, Christopher. Yet, it's perfectly acceptable; I want these moments to last as long as possible. This naïveté. This honest questioning of 'is it truly me or the blood of her within me'."

"You speak as if this has happened before, Maricella."

She removed the knife from his neck and the look, oh that sultry look, that she gives him,

"It has, would you like to know how many?"

He turns his eyes away from her, turning his face from her and even to the point of closing his eyes.

Why should I feel envy?! Naïve is right.

"Do not look away, my darkling," her voice is oddly gently as she leans down to coax him to turn and look back at her again, a gentle nudging with her nose does the trick, "What was, is just that. What we are now is what matters. You're the first that I've chosen of my own volition. You are my first darkling."

His eyes hold her stare, 

"Why do you call me that? Darkling?"

A smile, a gentle sort of smile, 

"Darkling is a term of endearment, it means that we are connected by the Night, you and I are something special. Rarely seen in our world, one of the Maidens of Night, taking on one such as yourself, one on the verge of death, a darkling that sang to me, called me from my wanderings. A unique, a terrible, and beautiful wolf."

"You came here with a knife, to chastise me for leaving you. Or was that just an excuse to sneak into my room and steal yet another kiss?"

He wasn't mad, not really.

A hint of seriousness is found as she speaks, 

"No, Christopher. There is a reason, but I had to have a little fun." 

She sits up, though she continues to straddle his hips. With a little effort he manages to prop himself up against one of his elbows, 

"We must swear to each other, five separate oaths before our representative comes calling. Thrice we must swear against our hearts, twice shall we swear fealty to each other."

Christopher found this ritual curious, but he was new to this world and he wasn't going to make light of anything, he would give this ritual its due level of reverence. Using his free hand, he wrapped his arm around her waist and sat up, holding her close to him. 

Had anyone decide to walk in on them at that moment, it would have made for a very satisfyingly awkward circumstance.

"Very well, then. How do we start?"

Glad for the darkness, as his bold move brought an unexpected flush to her cheeks, infuriatingly so without her consent.

"Listen to my words, to their meaning. Then speak your own promises." 

She took a breath.

"Thrice upon the heart we swear, 

 twice as one a fealty paired, 

 that once a warning will impair, 

 the promises left before us. 

 I, of heart of lion do swear to hold, to love and to respect my care."

A small spark appeared before her heart as she looked up, Christopher could see the flush across her cheeks clearly now.

Perhaps she wasn't so different after all. 

Perhaps she too held a frailty within her. 

A small corner of her that required more than empty words or promises.

Then inspiration stuck him.

"Thrice upon the heart we swear, 

 twice as one of fealty paired, 

 that once a warning will impair, 

 the promises left before us. 

 I, of wolf, the heart do swear my hand, my sword and my life, you the happiness of my care."

He thought he saw something, a widening of her eyes, a moment where she was going to speak, but his spark burst out of him so joyfully that it leapt to merge inside of her without any hesitation, a gasp of surprise escaped her lips. Her spark did much the same, it seemed to teleport form her as he suddenly gasped finding a new home within his breast.

They were gripping each other fiercely; the power surged through them like a current of energy and lasted for what seemed like hours. After an eternity of having this alien magick infuse every cell of his being, he gently released the grip around her waist. 

He was panting, not sure what to expect, but to his utter surprise he found that Maricella was lying against him rather limply. Carefully he moved her so that she was lying on his bed, his concern slowly draining as he noticed her steady breathing. He pulled the covers over her gently and coaxed a few strands of hair away from her face. In the light of the moon that filtered through, he could see that odd fragility and also a peacefulness about her.

I'll be your strength from now on, my lioness.

And like a warrior of old, he sat down on the floor, one knee bent up and the one leg lying comfortably underneath. He closed his eyes as he drifted in that semi-state of conscious thought, that hovering between full wakefulness and sleep. 

Oddly aware of his surroundings, as five sacred oaths now burned within his heart.

Upon the ground lay the wolf, and upon the rock the lion.