Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Loveless: Day 8

Word Count: 48,007

Summary of Events:
Le Démon bemoaned the fact that he couldn't remember his name, and that he'd yet to find it written down somewhere. Thérèse thought about all that she'd learned reading the book on castles, especially about the first kingly residence. Henri's daughter and son-in-law arrived and they discussed what had happened to Thérèse and where she could possibly be currently. Le Démon, lulled by Thérèse's stroking, remembered his mother's deception; this caused Thérèse to be frightened, as he roared and thrashed at the mere memory of it . . .

Excerpt of the Day:
"Being as he was just moaning, Thérèse thought it wouldn't probably be a bad thing for her to go up to him and resume stroking him, to see if maybe she couldn't give him some sort of comfort.
Quietly she rose up from behind the big, oaken desk where she'd taken shelter and crossed the room slowly to his side.
More easily now she could see that his sides were heaving as if he'd put in some sort of great effort. She put her hand against his side softly, but the instant she did so he popped up, teeth glinting like ivory sabres.
Before she could move he had her wrist seized in his mouth and yet was still ferociously snarling at her, his unsettling green eyes staring at her with murder. He looked like he was ready to do what she'd been afraid he'd do from the start: kill her.
Fear gripped her icily and she put her other hand against his muzzle, pushing at it, which caused him to utter a sharp growl.
"Please," she whispered, lest her voice break, tears rushing out of her eyes like they were trying to escape from something. "Don't kill me."
The murder seemed to fall from his eyes, being replaced by a furious, yet frustrated expression.
He released her wrist and quickly she clutched it to herself. He then got to his feet slowly, growling at her with his teeth bared.
Suddenly his mouth snapped open in the deafening blast of a roar as he continued to stare at her, his gaze vicious. He closed his eyes and uttered a bit of a roar that almost seemed exasperated before his face suddenly snapped into an expression of fury and he roared at her again, a sharp, loud blast.
Turning away, he flopped down before the door and draped a paw over his muzzle as if he was frustrated.
"What don't I understand?" Thérèse whispered.
One ear swivelled in her direction.
"What don't I understand?" she asked again, a little bit louder.
His paw slid off of his muzzle and he looked at her. His gaze looked almost irritatedly sarcastic, and he uttered a growl before turning away and lowering his head again.
"How can I help you?" Thérèse asked.
He didn't seem to have heard her. She crawled closer, using just her legs and one hand, keeping the other, which was slightly bleeding, clutched against her chest. She put her hand on his shoulder, causing him to raise his head and look at her almost indignantly.
"How can I help you?" she repeated.
He looked at her, his mouth slightly ajar, as if he didn't know what to make of what she was asking. He lowered his head and turned away.
Thérèse gently stroked his shoulder. He needed some kind of help, that's what it had to be; but what kind, and how she could offer it, those she had no idea."

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