Post by LACKLAN on Aug 31, 2018 8:19:23 GMT -5
Redmaine stands outside the door of the Queen of Red with a face of stone hidden behind his mask. Things had been disastrous ever since he manipulated the idiot black girl into inviting Ava back into Lacklanland. Things had gone well at first, of course, as his queen quickly took over her rightful place on the throne after listening to how badly the people wanted her. He knew that she could not withstand their call, could not plug her ears to their cries of need. The people were tired of Sarah’s lifestyle, tired of her pushing away the tenants of the Lord and instead focusing on a life of debauchery and sin. They wanted the closest thing they could have to the Lord, and Ava represented that.
But disaster ever since. Loss after loss in the ring, forcing the people to lose faith in her. And all the while, Sarah and the idiot black girl continued to win and win. Championship titles in multiple companies, wins over high calibre wrestlers. And nothing seemed to be changing. Nothing seemed to be helping. He needed her to listen to him, to change things, to grow and adapt. He needed to speak to her.
Redmaine pushes open the door and then freezes in the frame. The room was a mess. What once the immaculate rooms of his Savior, of the Lord himself, was now a wasteland. The bed had been ripped into tatters, white feathers littering the floor, the end table sitting on its side. Shards of glass glinted from the hardwood, the room’s several mirrors clearly thrown to the floor and shattered. The writing desk was on its side, a large hole of splintered wood in the center.
“Bêê bêê mouton noir
As-tu de la laine?”
A voice meets his ears, a voice filled with pain and on the verge of cracking.
“Oui, monsieur, oui monsieur
Trois sacs pleins”
The eyes above the mask inspired by a landworm’s maw shoot left and right, searching for the owner of the voice as he moves his heavy body into the room, wary of the glass on the ground.
“Un pour mon maître
Un pour ma maîtresse”
Glass pops under his boots as he moves slowly. A tray of uneaten food sits on its side. She hadn’t been eating. She hadn’t been drinking. She hadn’t been-
“Et un pour le petit garçon
Qui vit au bout du chemin”
He found her behind the bed, her body covered in discarded feathers. She sat on the hard floor, her knees pulled up and with her arms wrapped around them, rocking back and forth. Her hair was a disheveled mess, her roots showing against the bright platinum bleach. She hadn’t allowed the handmaidens to treat it in the last few weeks. She was naked, the scars running up and down her arms seeming to jump out against her skin.
“My Queen?”
“Bêê bêê mouton noir”
Nothing. Just rocking and staring at nothing.
“Aveline?”
“Oui, monsieur, oui monsieur”
Her voice cracks.
“Ava?”
“Et un pour le petit garçon”
He licks his lips under the mask.
“Bordy?”
Her eyes snap up and the large man nearly gasps. Her green eyes were lined with red and surrounded by dark circles. She looked especially pale, the lines in her face seemed to cut deep, even to the bone, and there was a slight twitch in her shoulders.
“Why doesn’t my sheep have wool?”
Redmaine blinks.
“Your-”
“MY SHEEP HAS NO WOOL!”
Her scream hurts the big man’s ears. Bordy scrambles to her feet, pulling herself up by the sheets on the bed, and then turns on him, grabbing him by his fur-lined vest and staring up into his face.
“WHY HAS THE BLACK SHEEP STOLEN MY WOOL?!”
She pushes off him, though the big man doesn’t move an inch, and she begins to pace back and forth before him.
“My sheep! Mon mouton! Where is its wool?! It was covered in wool...rich in wool…”
She turns to face him.
“I WAS RICH IN WOOL!”
She steps up quickly and is in his face again, and her face turns bright and full of wonder.
“Oh, Redmaine! You should have seen my sheep! So tall. So strong. Full of wool to the point of bursting! Bright white…la couleur de Dieu...the color of purity and what is right.”
Her face sinks and darkens.
“But then...then...STOLEN! SHEARED! WHERE IS MY WOOL?!”
She pushes off him and starts pacing again with quick steps. Her naked curves jiggle with the exasperated steps, her bare footfalls loud on the wooden floor.
“The black sheep has my wool. ELLE A MA LAINE! But I will get it back. Oh yes...I will shear the mouton noire myself. She walks around with titles...with trophies...with the Demon Child and L’Enfant Perdu. But I will take her wool. I WILL SHAVE HER CLEAN AND TAKE HER WOOL!”
She starts to laugh, doubling over at the waist, and then falls to the floor on her rump. She leans against the bed and kicks her heels into the hardwood floor in her fit of giggles. She stops suddenly and looks around, her face full of confusion.
“Why...why...why am I on the floor?”
She looks up and her confusion grows.
“Redmaine? When did you get here?”
Before he can answer, she again scrambles to her feet and gets in his face.
“But first! FIRST! I need more wool. I need the wool of my enemies before I take the black sheep’s wool!”
She suddenly slams her fist into his chest with a thud.
“Rydell! The man returned after so many disappointments! Not seen since No Holds Barred and the Cell of Hell! Hit so hard by Pierce that his memories are lost and he thinks he has bested me. But he has not! Non! Non! I was the victor in April and I will be again! He may have shaved the wool from his head, but he has grown it on his face, and I WILL take his wool! I will RIP! IT! FROM! HIS! FACE!”
She slams her fist into the taller man’s chest with every screamed word.
“Raab! Our German brother! L’Homme de Glace! Where is HIS wool? Not on his head!”
She falls into a fit of laughter and jams her head into Redmaine’s chest.
“Non! He has none! All his wool...left in other worlds. All his wool...in the past of successes far from here. He has no wool in UGWC. He has nothing of which to show the farmers. He has nothing!”
Her head snaps up from Redmaine’s chest and she finds his eyes again.
“But I will take what little he has. I will take what little Fear allowed him to keep. It will be mine!”
Her face contorts into rage and she slams both fists into Redmaine’s chest.
“MIZORE! She has FAR too much wool! I WILL TAKE IT! I WILL SHEAR IT! IT WILL BE MINE! The Captain...victories over the Le Bord and Dynamo. Momentum! I will stop her! I will skid her drive! I will take her wool and make a blanket from it! She will weep...WEEP...at the loss of her wool and wonder, with eyes cast towards the heavens, how she could find herself naked and bare. I. WILL. HAVE. HER. WOOL.”
Bordy’s eyes suddenly glisten, emotion pouring out, making her green eyes pop.
“And then the black sheep.”
She turns from him but then leans back against him. Redmaine’s arms instinctively circle around Bordy’s bare waist, holding her close as she leans her head back against his chest.
“I will take the black sheep’s wool. One bag for me. One bag for you. One bag for my husband, Il est ressuscité.”
She reaches up with her right arm and catches the back of his mask in her hand and roughly pulls his head down as she lifts her own, forcing their faces to be close enough to feel one another’s breath.
“We will remind them all who I am. L’Ultraviolet.”
With a grunt, Redmaine has his head jerked down further and feels his bottom lip be sunk into by a pair of teeth.
x2
