vindicta

01;

SLICES of pretty sunlight fragments had eased their way through curtain gaps, vision hazy and vibrant with its brilliance as hooded, sleepy eyes dared to open. A warm breath was caressing her shoulder blades and the wrinkles and folds of sheets felt foreign across her fingertips; nonetheless, as the sun grew bolder and her body, conscious, reality settled into a muddle of certainty.

With a groggy grimace, curves, and bends of a body slid across off-white sheets and skewed pillows until the cool air of waking morning kissed her skin.

She was so close. The thought, the encouragement, thundering in her bewildered psyche as her feet touched cold hardwood floors. She can already begun to collect memories like discarded clothing scattered over a stranger's floor. She could already taste lost inebriation on her tongue and messy, desperate kisses of two strangers turning to a one-night lover. But a warmth found itself at the spot towards the back of her hip while a grimace filtered the dewy complexion of morning innocence. Fingertips trailing and odd rhyming circles traced patterns across her hips to the divots of her back and then finally to four black lines—tattooed, but natural all the same—that traveled across the spine of her back.

"Leaving so soon?" Raspy and unfamiliar notes kissed the air, hands finding the spot of her hips and pulling suggestively. Equally persistent and timid, but she resists.

"I have places to be." And it wasn't quite a lie; she had plans...they just weren't so immediate.

"Surely they can wait, love."

"No, they cannot."

His fingers hand found themselves at the base of her neck, pushing and caressing like a sculptor to his clay and she the masterpiece that somehow had begun to dry into stone. She dared to glance at him as she slipped on her undergarments. He was boyish in an attractive way, not much older than herself but the light stubble of facial hair gave him a rugged look. His features were soft, odd matrimony to the hard cuts and curves of his jaw and cheekbones, and his eyes were a startling blue. She could pat her drunk mind on the back for this one...He was definitely a beauty.

"This was nice..." Her trailing words in a rising inclination, leaving a discomfiture in the air.

She couldn't even remember his name.

He deadpans, "Carden."

"Right." Her smile was forced, unnatural, and straining and just from the odd creases that formed across her features, she knew he wasn't convinced. But she didn't really care whether he believed her or not.

You see, Nemesis was notorious for getting what she wanted, and only that. The association with her name, in the syllables of Nem-e-sis, was simply "temporary." She was never around long enough for you to know her wholly, she didn't converse enough for you to even try, and if you were lucky to get more than a slight moment with her, the general knowledge that trailed notoriety was that you never assumed more than what you received.

This Carden boy, she deduced as she slipped her dress over her shoulders, was a fool. Perhaps he hadn't been around enough to know of her reputation, but she prayed he'd learn soon—she was getting tired of breaking boys' hearts.

Without a further glance or word she slipped her wand into the knotted twist of her hair and departed, entering the buzzing early morning travelers, merchants, and storefronts as they unlocked doors and swept ash-covered sidewalks. Her eyes glancing towards the horizon, watching as the residual tides of strangling soot and smoke clouded the heights, turning blue skies into an unsightly drab and flame-like auburn.

"Heard there s'more fires last night." A lady muttered as she passed, noticing the twisted grimace of Nemesis' lips as she stood observing. "I heard they were raiding again, something with the Order."