Our first writer is known by many names and possesses an amazing variety of awesomeness. Fusaba can no longer enjoy peace and quiet, for everyone insists on shouting her name at the top of their lungs whenever she shows up; she's also the very same SkyBison who drew the totally bitchin' portrait of Ambika found near the upper right-hand corner of all my blog pages.
Be prepared to get your hate on, 'cause not only is she a very talented artist (she'll deny it, but COME ON LOOK AT IT, IT IS AMAZING), she's a talented author as well.
Hope you don't mind a little PG-rating. I know I don't.
Word count: 811
“Farorei, what is the meaning of this?”
Despite his stern words, Sarorick Suncaller’s tone was anything but serious. He had been situated at a neatly made table by his wife (who was being very secretive today) and she had since vanished into their kitchen. Several minutes had passed with him sitting in silence and waiting for her return, and finally as he called out for her she sauntered into the dining room as if on cue.
“I’m sorry, Darling,” She cooed, sweeping around behind him and giving his jaw a delicate stroke, “I’ll be just a few more minutes.”
With a laugh to distract himself from his own blush, he watched her as she made her way into the kitchen again, humming a merry tune.
“What’s going on, then? Can’t you give me a hint?”
She called out a sing-song “no” to him from the other room and he relaxed back in his seat, another hearty chuckle escaping his lips. He hadn’t the slightest idea what she was up to, but he could only predict that it was going to make his day. So lucky he was to have such a wonderful wife.
It wasn’t long before she appeared from behind the kitchen door once more, this time carrying a large silver serving platter topped with a roasted boar, the sight and smell of which drew Sarorick forward in his seat to admire the impressive display.
“Farorei, you’ve outdone yourself.” He laughed and smiled up at her and she returned the look with a fond gaze of her own.
“I’m not done yet.”
Then back into the kitchen she went, only to reappear several moments later with a bottle of wine in hand; one of the finest from their cellar, and their cellar had quite the extensive (and expensive) selection of wine. A crystal glass was set down before Sarorick as she carefully poured the dark red liquid into it, tilting her head a bit so as to give him another warm smile followed by a gentle peck on the lips.
“You’re too good.”
She laughed quietly at the compliment, stopped short as he placed a hand on the back of her head in order to pull her in for another kiss. This one lasted longer, keeping her distracted just long enough to let a bit of the wine spill over the lip of his glass and onto the table. She squeaked in surprised and pulled back. Sarorick laughed.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up in a bit.”
“But it will stain the-”
“Please, I want to enjoy this moment with you.”
They shared a silent smile for a moment before Farorei leaned in, eyes closed, to plant a kiss on his forehead. Afterwards, she circled round behind him and began to rub his neck and shoulders, her fingertips delicately tracing patterns along his jaw every now and then.
“I suppose it’s too much to ask that you sit down and help me eat this incredible meal?”
“Yes, it is. I cooked it for you, not for me.”
He chuckled and shook his head, leaning forward a bit in order to pull a few chunks of the succulent meat from the boar’s flank onto his plate. Several silent moments passed; Sarorick enjoying his meal, Farorei gently massaging his shoulders. After a while he relaxed back into his seat and let out a great, content sigh, head falling back against his wife’s abdomen.
“Are you happy?” She asked quietly, smiling as she traced her nails across his jaw.
“Do you love me?” Her fingertips glided down his throat and over his clavicle. He sighed contently.
“So much that I fear my heart might burst out of my chest.”
“Oh?” She cooed, her hand reaching down to play with the collar of his tunic, “That would save me a great deal of trouble.”
Sarorick barely had a chance to take in her words before the sickening sound of metal piercing flesh reached his ears, and moments afterwards the feeling of an unbearable, burning, heavy agony reached his brain. With eyes wide he looked down to his chest to find a dagger buried just to the right of his heart, the hand wrapped around the hilt the same one that had been so lovingly caressing him only moments before. She had just missed his heart, but as she began to saw a circle around it he suspected that was the idea.
“Do you still love me?” Her voice maintained the same pleasant tone as before, her lips still curled into a sweet smile as she carved away at his chest. He was numb to the pain now, feeling only horror and confusion as his mouth gaped and he sputtered up at his wife, blood pouring liberally from his wound and dribbling from his lips.
“Of course you do.”