Pinhead ficlet - Fortune
Thursday, 19 April 2007 06:00![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
immaFortune. Some people have it, some people seek it, some claim to predict it, and some say that it favours the brave.
Stretching his arms as if blessing this slaughterhouse, this alter of the Order of the Gash, Pinhead rolled his head back with a low moan of delight, eyes falling shut as he relished the stickiness on his splayed fingers. Red and potent, a sign of the life slowly ebbing out of the tormented and tattered body at his feet.
No more laughter of wonder, no more cries would sound from the slashed throat, no more pleasure nor pain would be cherished by the bloody remains of what had once been a fine elegant man. Straight in stature, wealthy in fortune, brave in the face of mystery and now finally humbled and abandoned by the same fortune and bravery. The once so elegant features, that had made the soft skinned and soft-minded virgins swoon, lay no longer on fine bones, the skin separated from aristocratic flesh, and displayed as a splendid offering to the one and only God there was.
Leviathan would be pleased.
The soft moans sounding deep in the man's throat were intelligible, almost like the distant murmurs of lovers, snuggled together in post coital bliss. Pinhead tilted his head forward once more, black eyes resting on his victim, soft smile playing on his lips.
"Where is your fortune now ... your beauty and your brave heart?" Pinhead tutted kindly at the feeble attempt to reach for his foot. He kneeled down and stroked an almost gently finger across the bloodied exposed flesh of the man's forehead.
"Ah, but begging will not return it to you, my dear sir. You wished for this, didn't you?" His hand slid sensuously down over cheek, jaw, and neck and came to rest over the still beating heart. Like a frantic bird fluttering in a bony cage, fighting to make do with the leftovers from this wonderful banquet of agony.
"Begged with your eager and clever fingers as you played, sought ... desired. And I came." A whimper sounded from the man, choked and wet, and Pinhead smiled.
"You were in luck... there are so many calling out for my attention, and yet ... I answered you."
With a swish of leathery robes, he rose again, picking up the small cube that was in its final configuration.
"Or were it the others, the desperate others who I ignored in favour of you, who were the fortunate ones?" Pinhead murmured, more focused on the puzzle in his hands.
"You have eternity to learn the truth ..." With a light touch, the puzzle slid through it's 8 configurations and as the last click sounded, the room stilled, the sunlight once more filtering in through light silken curtains.
It was over.
Stretching his arms as if blessing this slaughterhouse, this alter of the Order of the Gash, Pinhead rolled his head back with a low moan of delight, eyes falling shut as he relished the stickiness on his splayed fingers. Red and potent, a sign of the life slowly ebbing out of the tormented and tattered body at his feet.
No more laughter of wonder, no more cries would sound from the slashed throat, no more pleasure nor pain would be cherished by the bloody remains of what had once been a fine elegant man. Straight in stature, wealthy in fortune, brave in the face of mystery and now finally humbled and abandoned by the same fortune and bravery. The once so elegant features, that had made the soft skinned and soft-minded virgins swoon, lay no longer on fine bones, the skin separated from aristocratic flesh, and displayed as a splendid offering to the one and only God there was.
Leviathan would be pleased.
The soft moans sounding deep in the man's throat were intelligible, almost like the distant murmurs of lovers, snuggled together in post coital bliss. Pinhead tilted his head forward once more, black eyes resting on his victim, soft smile playing on his lips.
"Where is your fortune now ... your beauty and your brave heart?" Pinhead tutted kindly at the feeble attempt to reach for his foot. He kneeled down and stroked an almost gently finger across the bloodied exposed flesh of the man's forehead.
"Ah, but begging will not return it to you, my dear sir. You wished for this, didn't you?" His hand slid sensuously down over cheek, jaw, and neck and came to rest over the still beating heart. Like a frantic bird fluttering in a bony cage, fighting to make do with the leftovers from this wonderful banquet of agony.
"Begged with your eager and clever fingers as you played, sought ... desired. And I came." A whimper sounded from the man, choked and wet, and Pinhead smiled.
"You were in luck... there are so many calling out for my attention, and yet ... I answered you."
With a swish of leathery robes, he rose again, picking up the small cube that was in its final configuration.
"Or were it the others, the desperate others who I ignored in favour of you, who were the fortunate ones?" Pinhead murmured, more focused on the puzzle in his hands.
"You have eternity to learn the truth ..." With a light touch, the puzzle slid through it's 8 configurations and as the last click sounded, the room stilled, the sunlight once more filtering in through light silken curtains.
It was over.
