Originally posted March 2 to March 11, 2010
((These are a series of small bits introducing The Harrier's Nemesis, Milady d'Winter. I had a vision of a bad guy that fed on Chance's insecurities, using them to destroy him. These short snapshots have the villain through different significant locations in Chance's life.))
Too many people. Too many between then and this moment. The hospital bed had seen many since he was here. The blond headed woman ran her fingers up and down its rail, looking for the slightest taste. There. There. A crush, an exchange. Food for a surprisingly fragile ego.
"Excuse me," a nurse called from the open door. "May I help you?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," the woman replied. "I was told I had a friend here. I will go back to information." She smiled and left the room, having enjoyed the appetizer.
--
The blond woman looked both ways before crossing the street, her navy pea coat open in the winter thaw. A striped scarf looped loosely around her neck. She stopped when she found it: his delicious fear. Too slow, too far in over his head, he would lose her. The blonde woman frowned. Determination and affection left a bitter taste on her tongue.
A car horn honked, lifting from her reverie. She smiled and waved to the driver, apologizing with a small nod. She stepped out of the middle of the street and moved on to the next course.
--
This would not do. She tasted too much hope here. The blond woman absentmindedly twirled a single sweet potato fry in the air as she took a sip of a beer. The air of self assurance soured the liquid in her mouth. He didn't share much while sitting in the garishly painted chair. He felt confident he could get through this moment with his usual charm and aplomb.
She poked at that time with her senses, trying to pry off the scab of months past. She frowned. He had prepared too well for this date. Its success drained her appetite. She waved for the check.
"That's a nice tat," the pierced waitress remarked of the fleur-de-lis on her exposed shoulder. "Thank you," she replied with a warm, inviting smile. "It's new."
--
Just let me die here. I missed all the clues. People will be killed because I'm stupid.
She rolled on the floor of the empty school, drinking him. The sweet taste of despair rolled over her tongue. The anguish warmed her belly. She had fed from other places in the school, amuse bouche for this the main course. His blood had spilt here, seeped into these tiles; his blood, his doubts, his insecurities, his pain. She gorged herself at the feast of emotions and was made ready.
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