Soulless Cupid

L'-Onilh~

...' '...

"Where didst thou find it?" I demanded, poring incessantly over the cube, tracing its unholy seams with trembling fingers.

^^^"Amidst the implements," replied the fair maiden, her cheeks blushing with a fevered rose. "Beside the caskets of trinkets, the gory gold, the earthen tins... and a faerie."^^^

"A faerie?" I echoed, struggling to veil the chill creeping beneath my ribs. "I have never kept a Faerie Tin."

^^^"Truly?" she insisted, her voice clear as chime. "But the woman— she who calleth herself Song— she placed the cube into my hands. She emerged from the Faerie Tin."^^^

"Song?" I whispered, the name falling like ash upon my tongue.

^^^"Yes. Radiant-though strange," the girl affirmed. "The woman bore fangs like needles beneath a face as pale as wax; her eyes, languid and sorrowful, seemed carved from the ruined marble of Grecian tombs. Her raiment-oh, her raiment-it hung about her like the relics of fallen empires. She was like a priestess of some extinct rite."^^^

...She gestured now toward the cube that lay inert in my grasp....

^^^"And after she gave me that," she said, "she spoke words... words that wounded the heart and made me ache with pity."^^^

"What did she say?" I pressed, already bracing my soul for the blow.

...The girl hesitated. Her gaze, heavy and disconsolate, fastened upon mine as though searching for sanctuary in my dread....

^^^"Uh-oh... She said, 'The day thou losest this object... is the day I shall slay the one I love.'"^^^

No....

No! No!!! Nooo!!! .....

Q: I feel his presence— here, in this place... His scent, lingers still. Mine? Mine ... Mine ...! Mine within his womb...

E: Shall we encircle the grounds, Empire?

Q: ... ... ...

A: Empire? ...

Q (shuddering with rage): He is near... Too near. Begone! I command thee— begone! Now!

Q : My infant returns to me! My hound ... The latrine of my desire has come home at last...

Thou°°°°°°°°°°°

"Swear it, if thou art to love me..." Ophelia smiled, raising her arm, gently caressing and exploring Geoffrey's cheek with a slow, tender stroke.

Geoffrey did not respond-he was silent-he was mute-there was naught but the sound of his labored breath that Ophelia perceived through her thumb: a warmth, a chill. It felt both soothing and comforting, warming her heart... Her thumb shifted slightly, deliberately touching the nostrils.

"Do you know?" Ophelia spoke, then sighed softly, ceasing when she felt the tremor in her left arm, which had been supporting her form. She lifted that arm, placing both hands upon his cheek, her thumbs positioned at his nostrils. Certainly, with this action, she would unintentionally compel the boy-Geoffrey's chest heaved, his eyes wide and flushed. Ophelia's smile deepened, though Geoffrey appeared still unready to gather his soul, so deeply startled was he...

"Thou art awake!" Ophelia cried, her voice bright, full of joyous elation!

She repeated the phrase again and again, whilst Geoffrey convulsed in prolonged spasms.

Ophelia cried out, her head swaying from side to side, her colossal form from the machine-like arachnid structure jerking in rhythm... Her tail flickered, emitting violet lights with an electrical hum, while the metal of her frame struck the floor, shattering it, sending dust and creating short-circuits.

Ophelia withdrew her thumb from Geoffrey's nostrils when the child's power left him... He nearly fainted, had a mere spark not struck his tiny feet. He was but ten, small in Ophelia's eyes, yet somehow-though operating on automatic through her intricate systems-she had abducted Geoffrey from his parents, though how she could not recall... Yet it was clear; in her mechanical being-a massive anthapodorus machine-that had performed such an act, she must have been commanded by someone, the owner... Yet, who that owner was remained a mystery to her. But what she knew without question was this: she loved the boy she had taken.

The boy lay motionless: poor Geoffrey-his face turned ashen, his eyes nearly disappearing from sight-when slowly, as he regained his senses, Ophelia waited patiently for the boy she deemed her lover... She did not ask, she did not wonder who had commanded her; now, her only question was: Does Geoffrey love her as she loves him? Her curiosity made her machine body warm and mist over. The iron chains gave way in segments, oozing ectoplasmic slime. Every joint expanded, swelled, puffed, and breathed, as her breath grew heavier. The sound of grinding metal grew louder as Geoffrey, the boy, fully awakened... His soul whole once more, his mouth now grinning, his cheeks flushed, his brows raised almost to his hairline... His face was tragic, his cheekbones trembling, his teeth and lips quivering... Oh, what form truly gazes back at him, which we cannot know?

It was a monster... Her tail lashed the air, threatening!

A monster.

A monster.

"Monster..." Geoffrey whispered, in a strangled cry. Ophelia waited a moment before the word entered her ears, creeping under her skin, sinking into her heart.

"Monster..." Ophelia echoed Geoffrey's word, her voice deep, "A monster, is it?" She ceased exhaling, "What manner of monster?"

Geoffrey offered no response, frozen in terror, Ophelia's fingers still upon his pallid face as he knew not what to do.

"Ophelia..." Ophelia spoke in the same tone, her tail flicking to the left with the hope Geoffrey would see it... A harsh screech, the sound of stiff chains, and the ectoplasmic slime bubbling across the floor, steaming. Geoffrey did not answer her, his heart shattered, blood pouring into his brain, beyond his capacity to hold, causing his nose to bleed once again... He backed away, but it was futile; his movements were constrained by the very confines he stood in, and the massive presence of Ophelia: great and heavy, her face a shadow of a beast... Ophelia appeared poised to strike, to make the child fall, never to rise until morning... But there was one question that haunted her, seemingly easy to resolve, but truly complex: "Does Geoffrey love her? Not as an anthapodrous machine, but as a common soul?"

Now, Ophelia felt the pressure of Geoffrey's silence. She stood straighter, lowering her gaze to ensure Geoffrey was still within her sight. Geoffrey looked up, eyes wide, trembling lips quivering, his gaze filled with hysteria... He spoke then, his voice faint, his words halting, as he began to bleed again.

"J-je-don't..." These were the first words Ophelia heard, followed by: "Don't hurt me. Don't harm me. I am in pain. I am in pain. Don't! Don't!" Then Geoffrey began to sob, his eyes wide with dread.

Ophelia gazed upon him with hidden pity, for all she longed to do was push the boy away if only her ectoplasm would let go... Setting aside this sorrow, she extended her arm, ripping at his summer garb, tearing the stitches, until Geoffrey lay bare-chested, curled in fear. Ophelia knelt and thrust Geoffrey's chest with all her might into the wall, causing a brief echo; the child screamed, Ophelia pressed harder, her tail holding his small right leg... His face flushed in an instant, and Geoffrey cried out, for the weight of her tail was too much for a mere child of ten... But what had passed through the mind of this mechanical beast, none could say, nor its motives...

Ophelia used her weight to hold the boy's half-formed body, drawing her face closer, their cheeks red and dimmed by the lack of light. Their breaths nearly touched. And they breathed one another's air, each in their own way; Geoffrey shuddered, struggling harder, while Ophelia savored the beauty of the vision below her: the small form writhing beneath her brought a chuckle from her. Her tail danced behind her, crushing fat from every inch of his thigh, breaking his tender bones. The boy may have felt a pain worse than that of any prisoner of war... The pain shot out from his mouth, his nose, and splattered across his eyes. Geoffrey heard his name called once more, "Geoffrey, Geoffrey, Geoffrey..." in tones as soft as cotton; but he felt no comfort, no joy-only pain and agony coursing through his body, so great that he could not suppress the tremors and convulsions under the monster's grip. Ophelia only smiled, and smiled. She lifted her tail once more and produced something sharp, as heavy as it was. It moved forward like a metal pusher, entering between Geoffrey's thighs. Now the boy was positioned so that Ophelia's hands could reach his shoulders, giving him a soft thrust, pushing him against the wall. To Geoffrey, it was the last gentle sensation he would ever know before his sense of touch vanished, accompanied by a pendulum entering the void.

Geoffrey was kissed by Ophelia. Afterward, he felt naught but a strange numbness; he remained conscious for five minutes, submitting to the inevitable: ectoplasmic slime coating his paralyzed legs, his lips moving aimlessly, destroying what remained of his senses... And then, darkness, endless and oppressive, as he lay amidst the vast, murky waters of a heaven swathed in pale, clouded light, where the clouds above were the white feathers of Waimanu penguins.

When he awoke, it was perhaps midday-he lay in a bed of soft leather-ten lanterns hung above, their valves half-open. The light was dim, but the sun's rays pierced through, illuminating the opulent room with flamboyant walls, glass windows set and doors locked with bolts... Before he could fully rise, a familiar presence made his heart leap, but it was in vain. His sense of touch returned, and he felt the wetness of the blanket covering a soft mass of slime beneath him. He pulled at the blanket, groaning as his face flushed again, turning pale once more... He saw his belly swollen, as though he were with child, and when he shifted, he realized the bed was soaked, but not from any childlike accident...

"It is amniotic fluid-" Ophelia explained as she approached the bed. Her steps were graceful, slow, and deliberate, her tail dragging behind her with care. She ascended the bed, and in that moment, Geoffrey's focus returned to the searing pain that flooded his body, and he stayed still, still, as Ophelia's hand once more reached for him, crawling over his face like ants, smiling sweetly.

Then, in an almost joyful tone, Ophelia spoke, words difficult for Geoffrey to grasp. "Thou art with child, our child," she said, laughing with cheeks flushed, eyes closed in bliss. Geoffrey remained silent, as once more, he was pushed, the waters of birth flowing around them, drenching the bed, Ophelia's body, his own, his face... And once more, they make love again ...

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