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Putting her pen to paper, Raven pauses, taking a moment to run everything that happened to her, her story partly written already. She had been possessed, lost, found a home, found friends, found family, saved lives, got a job, fought bitterly, fallen out of love, fallen into love, got engaged, spoken out on her contract, shared parts of her life story, bound herself to another, been bound, been partly freed, been saved, lost control, forgotten everything....all whilst at the same place.
She glances over her creamy exposed shoulder, at the elaborate black silk bed at the sleeping, peaceful form of her fiancée. She smiles softly, noting the soft snores coming from his prone form, the moonlight just falling across his relaxed face as his hair tumbles in an impossible web across the pillows. Her eyes reflect the starry sky outside, as she watches him snoring, wondering softly at just what his dreams would be. Stifling a giggle, she creeps over to his side quietly, lays a soft, gentle hand on his forehead and takes a peek into his mind. She smothers the giggle that rose through her frame at the image of being chained to Ramae, Ramae being one of her pets, her ravens, for an entire day. She pulls back, after leaving a lingering kiss on his forehead, a smirk on her face as his smile grows she slides back over to the table and hides the large collection of scrolls back in the bottom of her cherry wood desk noting how they where artfully concealed to prevent Michael from finding them. Pausing, she pulls a feather from her locks; her hair would turn into raven feathers when pulled out, and tucks it into Michael’s cloak, to protect him from the baleful influence and to stop him from noting her missing presence.
She stretches and pads over to the draws by the bed, bending over she picks up her ever present black bag off the floor, grabs the towel of the dresser and heads out the large door careful to close it firmly behind her. Stalking along the corridor to the bathing rooms, she smiles smugly, knowing by the sheer scent in the air that she was going to have a visitor once she had bathed and dressed. She heads for the room that Michael always seemed to find the things she needed in, and starts ransacking drawers, searching for the rose scent that she adored so, as did Michael.
“what ya afta?” a voice in the doorway asked. Turning rather startled she raises the daggers that had appeared in her hand, before dropping them with a defiant huff “Shadow! Don’t do that to me! I almost cut yew open then!” she glares at him, and gets a laugh in return.
“ya after the smelly stuff aren’t ya? Try the draw to ya left, red trim!” Shadow said gently to her, before walking in grabbing a basket. He opens the different doors pulling out the various items she needed before handing her the brown woven basket and moving out the door again. She stands there staring at the different drawers, making notes on where he had got everything from before heading back out the door and into the large room, her flickering eyes scanning the frames of the doors searching for the gold edging. “That one!” She heads into the shower, enjoying the sheer sensation of cool water running over her slender frame, the overwhelming scent of roses that filled the room, not filled but killed the air within the spacious suite. For the moment she was in heaven, and absorbing every moment of it knowing full well that she was going to be in hell, the timer on her arm counting down the time before her descent.
Sighing softly, after washing her hair thoroughly, and herself she steps out of the shower, drying herself off she opens her bag, pulling out a long black old gown, and proceeds to get dressed quickly, the timer on her wrist quickly hitting the 5 minute mark.
She ties her long, raven locks back, not bothering to put the glamour into place to hide its length or colouring, where she was going it would have no effect anyways. Sighing shakily, she moves her bag into a corner, expertly melting it into the shadows where she could pick it up. She slowly gets on her knees, and places her forehead on the tiles in a show of servitude, almost like one in prayer, as she counts down the final thirty seconds, Watching out of the corners of her glorious eyes at the rapid decent of the timer.
10.9.8.7.6.5.4.3.2.1...0

She cringes as the smell of smoke invades her senses; the sounds of unholy screams of terror and pain ring through the air, the heat alone of the unquenchable fires of hell engulf her prostrating form she waits for the command to rise, noting the thick sturdy collar dog collar that was now clasped around her slender neck.
“ Welcome to hell, my lovely little whore, come now, do rise and kiss yewr masters feet, then take your place on the steps, harlot” the mocking voice rings out, a large foot appearing within a short distance to her head, waiting for her to raise her face, and plant the required action.
She hesitates, before forcing herself to raise her face, and plant the desired kiss, inwardly revolting at the action. She rises slowly, reluctantly before walking over to the stony steps leading up the large, skull coated throne and takes a seat, her eyes kept steadfast on the ground as she ignores the hissing of the hoard of scantily dressed creatures above her.
“Now now b***h, your position is at the top of the stairs, go there now, to the base of my throne. “ was the imperious order, as the shadow like creature known as Lucifer stalked over to her, slamming his fist across her downturned face, as if she was a dog done wrong. The ringing contact sends her sprawling onto the floor in an untidy mess, her long hair breaking free of its binding and splaying around her as one hand goes to cradle her red raw cheek. Keeping a neutral face, she quickly stands up and climbs the stairway, ignoring the curses from the others, each being trying to attack her, not quite making the distance due to the silver chains attached to their heavy collars. She sits down at the base of the throne, and patiently waits, knowing that it was going to get so much worse. Her eyes drain of colour, a think filmy white substance seems to spread from her eyes and out through her skin, a defensive mechanism that had helped her often. Her thoughts go to her fiancé, Michael. She pictures his face, when he was smiling, the adorable way his face would soften when he looked at her, the way his face would suddenly light up when she made a joke, the calmness in his frame, the strength that she clung to, but most of all she clung to the love he had for her, the complete understanding and need for her that she so craved.




Her thoughts clinging to her fiancée, she misses the next command issued to her from the sadistic Lucifer, and finds herself being flung down each of the marble, sharp steps face first, her sensitive skin peeling off in chunks at each bump, her normally strong bones snapping into fractures at each sharp whack, the imprint of a solid steel tipped boot in her back as she tumbles down the stairs. Landing at the bottom in a bloodied heap, she manages to lift her head to look back up the stairs, past the now laughing half naked beings to the smiling, eerie figure now sprawled on the throne.
“How sad, Ravenella Malinissi, in a broken torn heap at the foot of my domain. Next time little miss ‘Princess’ should pay attention to her master, or maybe it won’t be her body being thrown down the stairs, maybe it will be the bloodied remains of her precious lover boy!” he snarls at her, enjoying the overwhelming power he had over her, the sheer ability to terrorise one so bold was more than he could stand, he was in a power hungry, abusive mood, and she was like a mere mortal in his realm, an easy target. “You were told to choose your weapon of choice; it’s time for your royal stupidness to verse Hells Angel in combat. Your options are A: a pencil B; A cigarette or C; a blunt, unbreakable bottle. Pick now!” he grins, his dark face casting an evil glow, as he eagerly leans forward, looking forward to the battle he had orchestrated.
“I chose...the bottle!”She sighs, knowing she was going to lose. Angel was the strongest of all Lucifers Angels, simply because he imbued her with every magic known to him, which was basically all the magic’s used or ever known. She slowly stands up wincing at the fractures, knowing they would not heal, not until she had returned. Her slender frame sways, unsteady from the pain as her body protests tot the movement. She waits patiently as a large, hairy monkey like creature comes hopping out of the shadows from the back corner, and hands her a small blue rubber bottle, the size of her little finger, with a snicker. It opens its distorted mouth, revealing a set of 9 inch teeth and snaps at her, just missing her face before loping back into the shadows clearly pleased with itself.
She stares at the miniature bottle, before looking up at the blasting sounds of hundreds of hunting horns ring through the now lit up palace, she blinks confused as to how she had arrived at a palace, when she was in hell before realising Lucifer had used her power of imagery to plant the notion in her mind of being in a better place. She stares at the suddenly familiar setting, the tapestries of her glorious birth mother on the walls, the soft grey carpet underfoot that she had loved so much to curl up in, her toes itching to feel its cushioning softness. She starts to wander around, fragments of memories coming to her in bursts. Her mother holding her close by the pillars after her father’s abusive outbursts, her mother smiling softly in the corner as she watched her precious daughter playing on the carpet, her knight telling her epic tales of his glories in battle, her friends running up and down the length of the throne room as they played tag, sitting on the carpet as her mother kneeled behind her doing her hair. She breaks into a dead run, wanting to see the one who had meant the world to her, she heads to her rose garden, for she had always found him there when she needed him. Searching everywhere, but finding not one sign of the man she had been engaged to, she slumps, her shoulders falling as she lets the desolation sink in, unaware of the thick bodied woman who had snuck up behind her, a large metal spear in one hand and a thick deadly club in the other.
(ish being continued ninja )