Author's Note: I submitted the beginning of this story in the hopes that at least one person would read it. It received four favorites the same day it was approved. It even got a couple of comments. Gracious me, that's the first time anything like that has happened and I thank you so much. I wondered if anyone would enjoy it and I guess my question is answered. I shall gladly continue for you. And, as always, comments and critiques are entirely welcome.
Again, thank you.
Ginnnnnnna!
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She didn't reply, only tried to cringe back into the cushions even more. He crouched in front of her, eye to eye, and shoved an ancient-looking parchment in front of her face. She jerked her head, startled by the sudden movement, then squinted at it, confused. It looked like the alphabet that she had learned growing up - the characters were the same - but other than that, it appeared to be nothing but a jumble of nonsense words.
"Translate this, human," he said, amicably.
His countenance suggested he was at ease. As if he knew he'd be able to get her to tell him whatever he wished, yet his posture was taut and direct. This information was plainly of utmost importance to him.
"I c-can't read th-th-" she began, stuttering in her terror.
Instantly, a dark watchful expression replaced the casual patience. "Don't toy with me, girl. This is written in your barbaric language. You will translate it for me." He shoved the paper even closer and a low, ominous rumbling issued from deep within his chest.
Anya became even more afraid, if that was at all possible. He wanted something she could not give him. The most she could attempt to do was read aloud the impossible sentences. She figured that was hardly what he meant. He wanted to know what they said, not how they sounded. How would he react when she denied him again?
"Please, listen. I-I don't know what it says! Those a-are our letters but th-they aren't like any words I've ever seen. It's just gibberish!" Her tone was pleading, begging him to believe her.
Irritably, he snatched the paper away and glared at her intently. His eyes seemed to brighten momentarily before returning to their original hue. For several long minutes they gazed at one another, neither moving. He seemed to be mulling something over as he searched her face. Finally, he sat back on his haunches and gave her a cagey grin. The sight of it sent shivers down her spine and a cold, hollow feeling began to grow in her belly.
"That worthless, screaming old fool told me the exact same thing the other evening. Perhaps he was telling me the truth after all. Shame. I could have saved myself much needless effort. And such a mess. It wasn't a total loss, though. I did get an intimate understanding of your anatomy and basic inner workings. Very educational, and such vibrant colors," he spoke in an off-hand way but his sharp scrutiny of her face never wavered.
His words were terrible and her horror was apparent as her features paled further. "Y-you? You killed farmer Schmit? W-why-" She uttered a frightened yelp as he leaned in suddenly, with horrifying, fluid speed.
"Did I not just tell you? Speak only when asked," he hissed, the tip of his nose almost touching hers.
He slowly drew a knife from one of the many he wore. It was a long, curving serrated blade that ended in a barbed hook. Anya's terror-filled eyes flickered to it instantly. It looked like an instrument made for dealing as much pain as possible.
"This is one of my favorites," he began, glancing at the blade fondly.
Leaning back, he ran his thumb across the sharp edge and opened up a thin cut without wincing. She watched with detached amazement as an emerald green liquid welled up along the surface of the gash. She dimly recalled his earlier statement about having some fascination with red human blood. At least it explained one thing in this chaotic turn of events.
"Observe," he went on. "You see that talon on the end there? It's designed to ensure that when the blade is retrieved more comes out than what went in."
He paused, giving her a moment to visualize his statement. The woman's eyes had not left the weapon. Good. That was exactly where he wanted them. He slowly, deliberately inched the point of it closer to her stomach until she could feel a painful pressure.
"It'd be a pity, we've only just met face to face and all, but please believe me when I tell you that I can make your insides become your outsides very quickly. My time here has grown short and I am out of patience. Now that we understand each other I'll ask you once more, what does this scroll say?"
Tears began to stream down her cheeks at this point, certain that he intended on torturing her to death for something she honestly couldn't tell him. She said nothing, only shrugged and turned her head away, unwilling to witness her own disemboweling. Issuing one hopeless sob, she began to weep silently into the couch cushions. This stopped him briefly, and he tilted his head once again to study her.
"Why do you do that?"
Bewildered, she dared to glance up at him again. Her breath hitched, "d-do wha-what?"
He reached out, raked his free hand across the wetness on her cheeks and showed her. "This. Why do your eyes leak? The old male human's eyes did the same thing when I began my interrogation of him."
Her brow furrowed as she struggled to keep up with this erratic exchange, "because I'm s-scared and upset. All humans c-cry."
"Fear and distress causes water to dribble from your eyes? A naturally built-in function that hinders ones vision? Ridiculous. It's nothing less than remarkable that your species has managed to survive all these centuries."