Mr. Meu and Amon Sin Algol reclined in a pile of pillows in the pleasure room of the Royal Harem. They seemed to share the same wicked grin. A laudanum-soaked cube of sugar burned a translucent blue atop the slotted spoon spanning the crystalline glass between them. Meu poured a generous splash from his flute of chilled Henroit 1808 Curee des Enchanteleurs over the opiate-laden sweet, extinguishing the flame in a shower of bubbles. The piquant aroma rose in large swirls riding the resulting steam into his waiting nostrils. He then let the caramelized cube slip into the absinthe. The liquid turned a soft jade colour resulting in the louche, the releasing of the Green Faerie.
She emerged full-grown, joyously pirouetting on the surface tension of the potent concoction. Her pale arms extended, head thrown back, a secret ballet in celebration of her birth. Meu stared, as if bewitched by her private performance for a long moment, and then slowly and lovingly he tilted the beveled glass back. His cat jaws opened wide, dagger sharp teeth surrounded her still dancing form. His pink tongue extended, curling a semi-circle around the emerald fay. Like a rose-coloured scythe it struck, pulling the tiny ballerina down his gullet as his goblet went bottom-up.
She willingly entered his mouth, slid down his throat; to swim in his warm, red veins then play in the cold, cruel maze of his mind. It was her very nature you see. The Green Faerie was after all a woman—getting inside a man’s mind was her reason for being. Now that he had committed himself, she was driven to try to change him, inspire him, make him…more…even if it meant her own destruction.
fr. Travers McCraken The Prince of Knocknafay
She emerged full-grown, joyously pirouetting on the surface tension of the potent concoction. Her pale arms extended, head thrown back, a secret ballet in celebration of her birth. Meu stared, as if bewitched by her private performance for a long moment, and then slowly and lovingly he tilted the beveled glass back. His cat jaws opened wide, dagger sharp teeth surrounded her still dancing form. His pink tongue extended, curling a semi-circle around the emerald fay. Like a rose-coloured scythe it struck, pulling the tiny ballerina down his gullet as his goblet went bottom-up.
She willingly entered his mouth, slid down his throat; to swim in his warm, red veins then play in the cold, cruel maze of his mind. It was her very nature you see. The Green Faerie was after all a woman—getting inside a man’s mind was her reason for being. Now that he had committed himself, she was driven to try to change him, inspire him, make him…more…even if it meant her own destruction.
fr. Travers McCraken The Prince of Knocknafay
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