A chalice of blood. Offered to your disciples. Is it so innocent a choice? Or do they already worship you as a living god? And to deny a god was madness. To reject him a sin, a damnation that you would carry to the grave. But could you drink with him? To drink and know that you would be bound to him, and that he would be your lord eternal. The new life given to you, a life he gave. But is it your life to lead? Was it ever? Was he not always there, the ribbons of his jet hair flowing in the wind? Was it not his awaiting eyes which stared back into your soul upon the mirror? Think of it, was he not already in your mind? Dwelling upon your thoughts as you meandered through your will. There it was his hand that took yours and tugged you along the path, and like a wayward child you let him. So innocently taken, and so innocently laid, a child, his child, but not his child. Not yet at least, for the path did not lead yet to the clearing, and perhaps inside you knew it to be wrong.
It was wrong was it not? Though his allure was far too captivating, the seduction enticing you with the sway of his hips. You had to follow him, taking to all fours and you crawled forward. Obeying was not a choice, but a need. The master called your name from his lips, those lips you would kill to grace you again. And how many would you kill? One? Two? Twelve? How far steeped in blood you would let yourself go to please him? A baptism in blood, and there he would submerge your naked body into the sanguine sea. Embrace it, as you long to embrace him, let the ancient power whisper into your heart. Open your mouth and drink, drink from the offered cup for you thirst for it. You thirst for him. Reach out and accept it, take his blessings and born anew!
Let the blood drip across the body you behold. Each precious drop, caught within your quivering lips. May your tongue curl in ecstasy of the moment as you savour the rubies gleaned from your master's prefect form. Throw yourself at his feet and cry out for what he has given you. For now you are complete, made whole again as your eyes awaken from the dream. Peel off your eyelids and see, see the man before you, no longer your master but truly your lord. For he was desire, and now he is the sire. Look upon him, your father, and ask with newfound insight, where you are and what has happened. No longer are you the innocent child so ignorant and believing in your god, but now the waiting youth questioning your very own existence.
This is the future of acceptance.
Such was the offer laid, as the Red-headed thrall looked long and hard into the eyes of the man he would both live and die for. Could a thrall truly consider the options given? The descion of it now? To remain like this obsessing over a single being, or to be changed and become bound to blood? Perhaps there was a moment of thought, a spark of will in the eye, caught between the struggle of enthrallment and shortly snuffed out. And yet perhaps with the most genuine nod as Lucan brought Mithias' hand around his to his lips.
"Yes Master."
A betrayal by a kiss.
