Puppetmaster
“You ready?” Loki asked her shortly, arms crossed across his chest as he leaned his back against the rough bark of an old willow tree. His face was shrouded under the shadows of the draping willow branches surrounding them; the few rays of sunlight that made their way into the shade shone upon and revealed his eyes – narrow, empty, and cold.
Sitting before him on the grass, Delilah hugged her knees to her chest tightly and fingered the blades of grass underneath her. She sighed and allowed her eyes to travel to the bow and shabby set of arrows laying in front of her. Settling upon the sharp, poison-tipped point of her arrows, she stared at them intently for a short moment before glancing painfully away. Cocking his eyebrows in irritation, Loki shook his head.
“I should have known you'd be too weak to do this. Too afraid.”
“It's not. . . It's not that,” Delilah sighed, plucking a blade of grass from the ground and twirling it idly between her thumb and index finger. “I just don't know if this is the right way to do things.”
He scoffed in disgust, “You're just wasting my time now, woman. Up until this morning, you were thrilled about killing him.”
“I don't want him to die.”
“But you know it's the only way,” he paused briefly. “He betrayed you, betrayed your trust. He threw away everything you had. How long did it take him to replace you – to find Layla?”
Delilah flinched; her eyes grew dim for a brief moment. Her. She felt a foul tasting lump crawl down into throat and swallowed it down, hard and arduously.
Watching the changes in her face, the corners of his lips curled in a grin, “That's right. Remember that feeling? That's what brought us here in the first place.”
She hid her face in the palms of her hands, “Is this really how it's meant to be?”
Unfolding his arms, Loki pushed himself up from his leaning position against the tree. Stepping forward, he looked directly down upon her and held out his hand, “Come. There's no telling when he or his harlot will decide to head back. Now – now is your chance.”
It was not long before the pair had found the perfect place. Shrouded in shrubs and tall trees, the cliff overlooked the entire pasture. Down below, a flock of sheep wandered aimlessly nibbling at the grass. Delilah wandered slowly to the cliff, as near as she could without being seen from below. From her hiding spot, she saw her target: a lively, golden haired young man – and sitting near him, the ebony haired Layla. From her high perch, she squinted, observing their movements for a few brief moments. Her stomach churned and she felt the blood rush to her face as she watched their interactions. Their affections sent shivers down her spine. Her knees trembled underneath her weight. It was at this moment that Loki stepped behind her, almost appearing from nowhere. In his outstretched hands, he held her weapon.
“Go on. You're only prolonging the inevitable.”
Forcing herself to look away, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Taking the bow and arrow from his hands, Delilah quietly made her way to the bush nearest the edge of the cliff. Parting away the leaves and branches, she dropped to her knees and stomach and lay hidden in its foliage; only her weapon peaked out from behind the green shelter. Deeply sighing, she placed an arrow on the bowstring; slowly, she pulled back, feeling the brush of the fletch against her cheek. She concentrated now; like a trained hunter, her eyes narrowed upon the couple. Shakily taking aim, she set her sights on the young man. Where to aim: his arm? His side? His heart? She knew it didn't matter; the poison would tie up any loose ends. She sighed again and relaxed her body. A short flash in time – it would all be over soon.
Behind her, Loki stood tall, with his arms crossed across his broad chest in his usual nonchalant fashion. His eyes bore down on her, still narrow and empty, driving her to act. A sudden swoosh of her arrow – a flash of white from behind the bush – caused him to grin once again, those sinister lips curling with sadistic pleasure. A cry rose from the meadow. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment.
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