swordandsandle
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 23, 2010
- Posts
- 1,781
The light in the room was red, faint, and flickering. In the air there was the faint scent of salt, and it stood still and thick. All around, just in the corner of my vision, danced shadows of many shapes, almost meaningful in their movements. The walls, the floors, both solid stone, broken only by a door to my rear, only distinguished by a slight whitish tint in the rock.
Strange, yes. For my father’s room, however, this was entirely normal.
“Do you know why I called you here, Clariburnus?” His jet black nails pattered rhythmically over the iron over the iron armrest of his chair, the great twisted back glinting eerily in the light. Even sitting down, he was a brooding presence, his rumbling voice matching his thick and mighty frame well, to say nothing of his amber stare. His skin was the color of bronze, with the same sheen, almost absorbing the lighter, his limbers strong if not too thick. Down his face and over his chest, both chiseled and strong, ran red gashes, scabbed over with bits of black. Honestly, I took after him far more then my mother, a fallen angel of an unusually loyal nature, though I most certainly inherited my steel-grey wings and slimmer frame from her. However, other than being slightly less bulky and unscarred, I was my father’s splitting image. Still, the power of his voice made be shirk back half a step before responding.
“Actually father,” I offered a slight shrug, my voice honestly sounder a bit more laid back and smooth then I would have liked. “I have no idea. You were a bit vague in your summoning.”
There was a moment of silence as a spark of pride flared in his eye, though nothing serious enough to be scared of. “As I meant to be boy,” he gave a knowing grin; I hesitate to call it a smile. “You are my only trueborn son, this is clear enough, and though I’ve done well with your mother, I fear she may still be a bit too angelic to hear what I have to tell you.” His arm came up, beckoning for me to come closer. “You are aware,” he continued to speak as I approached, each step echoing through the room. “ That to take to the world on your own and live your demonic destiny, your require your father’s curse, correct?”
Knelling down at his side, I refrained from touching his skin, yet kept our eyes locked all the same. “Of course, father. I’m quite aware of that. Have you summoned me to present a condition?”
“That I have,” his hand gripped around mine, a slight burning feeling flowing from the contact and creeping up my arm. “I’ve put quite a bit of thought into it, but I believe I have found a vile enough sin for you, a worthy rite for my only son. You are aware of why I never let your mother into the mortal realm, correct?”
“You have told me enough times father,” I struggled to hide the pain that was growing more and more intense… did he have holy water on his hand or something? The whole issue was rather complicated, but easy enough to summarize. A few years after having me, my father had neglected to remember the potency of demonic seed and gotten some mortal bitch with child. Of course, he couldn’t just leave a half-breed out in the world, so taking the women under a mortal form, he’d set up a home for her and took care of her and her daughter after the girl was born. Of course, she was very much aware of her heritage; it had become painfully obvious when the hellfire came out during her first period. However, she had no idea that I had any more demonic blood then her, though even in my half-breed disguise I proved dramatically superior to her. So far, my father had done well enough leading a double life, though I spent a little too little time in the infernal realm for my liking, but what did that have to do with the situation?
“Then you are very aware of your sister, are you not? She has grown up well, if perhaps a bit too human,” his eyes laughed as I gritted my teeth, my demented mine grasping onto the concept almost immediately. “She’d make lovely breeding stock though.”
“Are you suggesting what I suspect you are?” The sharp pain in my voice was only slightly hidden under my mock distain. “Both of my mothers would not approve of this, I’ll tell you that.”
“Exactly my point,” he gave me a laugh with his mouth this time: it was actually a bit disturbing, before letting me go, the pain vanishing for a moment before his hand came down in a slap to my back. “Now, get to work.”
Then, as if I had been there the whole time, I was back outside his door, shifted into my half-demon disguise. I still had the same build, though my skin was a more mortal shade of tan and my wings where gone. Instead of my father’s greasy mane, my jet-black hair was well groomed, though my eyes where a bit too amber to be natural. Our mortal basement wasn’t exactly exciting, but I wasn’t planning on staying, marching up the stairs with a slightly unearthly grace.
I set my hands on my hips as I wander the upper floor, keeping one eye out for my sister as I went through the actions of my mortal façade: making a sandwich, going over some deathly easy mortal “university level” work, and picking up the house from a night of debauchery of the party persuasion. Still, the idea of what I was going to do itched at my head all day, and I actually was looking forward to it. Finally, my mind wandering down a particularly dark path, I hatched a plan, sitting in the den and flipping on the news (always the best source of tragedy and human flaws), waiting for my sister to pass through.
Strange, yes. For my father’s room, however, this was entirely normal.
“Do you know why I called you here, Clariburnus?” His jet black nails pattered rhythmically over the iron over the iron armrest of his chair, the great twisted back glinting eerily in the light. Even sitting down, he was a brooding presence, his rumbling voice matching his thick and mighty frame well, to say nothing of his amber stare. His skin was the color of bronze, with the same sheen, almost absorbing the lighter, his limbers strong if not too thick. Down his face and over his chest, both chiseled and strong, ran red gashes, scabbed over with bits of black. Honestly, I took after him far more then my mother, a fallen angel of an unusually loyal nature, though I most certainly inherited my steel-grey wings and slimmer frame from her. However, other than being slightly less bulky and unscarred, I was my father’s splitting image. Still, the power of his voice made be shirk back half a step before responding.
“Actually father,” I offered a slight shrug, my voice honestly sounder a bit more laid back and smooth then I would have liked. “I have no idea. You were a bit vague in your summoning.”
There was a moment of silence as a spark of pride flared in his eye, though nothing serious enough to be scared of. “As I meant to be boy,” he gave a knowing grin; I hesitate to call it a smile. “You are my only trueborn son, this is clear enough, and though I’ve done well with your mother, I fear she may still be a bit too angelic to hear what I have to tell you.” His arm came up, beckoning for me to come closer. “You are aware,” he continued to speak as I approached, each step echoing through the room. “ That to take to the world on your own and live your demonic destiny, your require your father’s curse, correct?”
Knelling down at his side, I refrained from touching his skin, yet kept our eyes locked all the same. “Of course, father. I’m quite aware of that. Have you summoned me to present a condition?”
“That I have,” his hand gripped around mine, a slight burning feeling flowing from the contact and creeping up my arm. “I’ve put quite a bit of thought into it, but I believe I have found a vile enough sin for you, a worthy rite for my only son. You are aware of why I never let your mother into the mortal realm, correct?”
“You have told me enough times father,” I struggled to hide the pain that was growing more and more intense… did he have holy water on his hand or something? The whole issue was rather complicated, but easy enough to summarize. A few years after having me, my father had neglected to remember the potency of demonic seed and gotten some mortal bitch with child. Of course, he couldn’t just leave a half-breed out in the world, so taking the women under a mortal form, he’d set up a home for her and took care of her and her daughter after the girl was born. Of course, she was very much aware of her heritage; it had become painfully obvious when the hellfire came out during her first period. However, she had no idea that I had any more demonic blood then her, though even in my half-breed disguise I proved dramatically superior to her. So far, my father had done well enough leading a double life, though I spent a little too little time in the infernal realm for my liking, but what did that have to do with the situation?
“Then you are very aware of your sister, are you not? She has grown up well, if perhaps a bit too human,” his eyes laughed as I gritted my teeth, my demented mine grasping onto the concept almost immediately. “She’d make lovely breeding stock though.”
“Are you suggesting what I suspect you are?” The sharp pain in my voice was only slightly hidden under my mock distain. “Both of my mothers would not approve of this, I’ll tell you that.”
“Exactly my point,” he gave me a laugh with his mouth this time: it was actually a bit disturbing, before letting me go, the pain vanishing for a moment before his hand came down in a slap to my back. “Now, get to work.”
Then, as if I had been there the whole time, I was back outside his door, shifted into my half-demon disguise. I still had the same build, though my skin was a more mortal shade of tan and my wings where gone. Instead of my father’s greasy mane, my jet-black hair was well groomed, though my eyes where a bit too amber to be natural. Our mortal basement wasn’t exactly exciting, but I wasn’t planning on staying, marching up the stairs with a slightly unearthly grace.
I set my hands on my hips as I wander the upper floor, keeping one eye out for my sister as I went through the actions of my mortal façade: making a sandwich, going over some deathly easy mortal “university level” work, and picking up the house from a night of debauchery of the party persuasion. Still, the idea of what I was going to do itched at my head all day, and I actually was looking forward to it. Finally, my mind wandering down a particularly dark path, I hatched a plan, sitting in the den and flipping on the news (always the best source of tragedy and human flaws), waiting for my sister to pass through.
