The Morning After ~ “Wake Up, Stephen...”

(Reader discretion advised in advance for various things, but mostly Mature Content. Stephen is after all... Though, it shouldn't be -too- bad...)


“Steeeepheeen...! Wake up, Stephen!” a small child’s voice called to him from the dark depths of unconsciousness.

Tattooed eyes twitched in their owner’s sleep, trying to bring the man sprawled upon the floor of the morgue to full wakefulness. Morning sunlight filtered in through a window and reflected off a shiny surface, into the closed eyes of Stephen Vazgoth the Third. “Ugh...” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter against the light. What had happened? It felt like he’d over-imbibed in drink and then was beaten to near-death. Yet, the only thing he remembered drinking was tea...

Tea! Arianna had made the tea... Memories of the evening prior assaulted his mind. Arianna, a demi-goddess of Alrania by what he’d been taught to believe about those with fair hair, had been here last night by his request. And then... then he’d made advances. Despite his work for the dragon slayers being only work, he did find the woman attractive. Not only that... but relations with her would have given him the ability to surmount the gods themselves according to a myth. Wasn’t it an old Carakleinian myth about a golden-haired goddess assisting a mortal man to god-hood? Or maybe it was his father’s culture’s myths... Either way, Stephen had thought for sure that they were to be the figures of legend and could recreate folklore as prophecy foretold.

He also believed Arianna to truly be in love with him... and that Kalypso, his wife whom he’d murdered and brought with him on his exile, (believing her still to be alive, of course) would never catch them in this affair despite being on the premises. Well... turns out he was at least half right: Kalypso wouldn’t be finding out anything. It had been a rather enjoyable evening in his twisted mind, finding every protest and strike from Arianna being further encouragement rather than demands to stop. A bit of a sado-masochist, Stephen: he interpreted most pains as pleasure, and occasionally even gave it right back.

Placing his arms under himself to push up off the floor, Stephen noticed suddenly a great amount of pain in his lower chest that was not the pleasure-inducing kind. Given what he knew of the human body, he would assume he had at least one cracked rib. Rolled-up sleeves baring his hands and forearms revealed that he had quite a few bruises and scratches... a few of the latter having even bled a little. A little ways away, Stephen spied a shattered teacup.

It didn’t take long to put two and two together: Arianna had drugged him, and for all of his expertise in death and whatnot hadn’t even known she’d slipped it to him. Picking up one of the pieces that still had some tea within it, he sniffed cautiously. Yes... a sleeping powder. Why hadn’t he noticed it before?!

“Little minx...” he murmured and, with a grunt of pain, pushed himself up. Although he enjoyed pain, the soreness after it being inflicted wasn’t always enjoyable. This was one of those times. She had apparently gotten a good hit in where his nose was concerned, for he could feel blood caked up on his nostrils and upper lip in addition to the area being sore in general. A familiar metallic taste upon his lips alerted him to the fact that his lip, which had been scratched open by Arianna, had re-opened and started bleeding. Instead of pressing on the wound to halt the trickle of crimson, Stephen instead covered it with his tongue for a moment, savoring the taste of blood. He could almost taste her fingernails digging into his skin all over again...

Disoriented from the fall he didn’t remember, Stephen glanced around in attempt to identify where he was. For all he knew, Arianna could’ve dragged him to her place. But alas, he was faintly disappointed to find himself in the mortuary. With a slightly weakened grasp Stephen hoisted himself up with the aid of his desk chair, not fully trusting himself to be entirely with it to get up without aid. “Now where are you...?” he mused aloud, panting slightly as he glanced around for Ari. The mortician didn’t see another living soul in the room besides himself... no pun intended. Okay, okay, so it was intended...

Concentrating on the tracking spell he’d placed on the young woman, Stephen deduced she was still in village limits. However, precisely where she was was beyond his ability to determine as he still felt like someone had dragged him through a proverbial knothole and back. “...Hide and seek, my dear?” he called, not realizing the woman was long gone from the place.

“Ari, I think I like this game...” Stephen muttered with a psychotic grin before beginning a rather stiff-legged search of the morgue portion of his combined workplace and home. “Ariii...?”