Some days I ponder the workings of the mind behind the haunting eyes of the
Slaugh.

What sort of tragic ideas and poisoned plots play against her hollow thoughts?
Oh, this solace I find just with a mindless stare within those hollow eyes,
taking in the beauty within. The feeling of a curious joy within her sights
shifts within me, shifts away to fear and back to chilling comfort, like the ebb
and flow of a New Moon's restless tide. What does happen, in the mind of this
horrible beauty? I am forlorn, forever yearning for this knowledge, which
escapes through my fingers like the ethereal shadows of her Mother's cover. Oh,
what worldly things I would just toss aside for just one glimpse into that mind.

Her ruby lips upturn into a gorgeous but terrible smile, on the outside showing
nothing but her beauty and her own arrogance.

Dainty hands with spidery fingers reach for me, grabbing for my chest, or
perhaps within, to my heart. Perhaps they reach for my soul. My curiosity, ever
so overwhelming, guides my feet upon invisible clouds, gliding upon restless
soles. Beyond my own control, I find myself somehow bound to this lady of the
Night.

That dainty hand that once extended now takes hold, the fragile looking fingers
with a rough, almost brutish hold upon my hair as my head is jerked aside
without a struggle. Helplessly, I am too enthralled with those lavender orbs.
Her crimson lips part as she tilts her head down, a grotesque rictus forming as
they touch my flesh.

There is a sudden jolt, but that is all. Then there is nothing. At pale skin
where it had met her lips, the same shadows that blighted my mind, though in a
much more physical manner began to dance and writhe. A sudden tire overtook,
unlike one I ever felt before.

To and fro, to and fro, my entire being swayed before everything gave in, all
at once. Away am I tossed, like a jilted lover, indisposed, and hit the ground.
There was a new sensation deep within my soul, a new something of which to
succumb.

Mother Night's shroud of death lays itself upon me as she seductively whispers
of forever's sleep, and all I could see was the lavender eyes of the Slaugh,
their glow bright against the eddies of black, before there was nothing.

I was triumphant, in some sense of the term. I knew more than I had ever
dreamed for.