43. The Third Exhibit
43
The Third Exhibit
ACHERON
The chandeliers cast fractured light over the stage, casting a shimmering veil upon my creation.
Everleigh hangs below me, suspended by threads of scarlet, her body a living masterpiece. The room is silent—my audience waits, breathless and captivated. They are nothing to me, mere shadows at the edges of my vision. My focus is solely on her.
Her skin glistens, bare apart from the mix of gold and crimson paint I used to adorn her, mirroring my scars and tattoos. They accentuate the delicate hooks that hold her aloft. Yes. Hooks . I’ve reinforced the skin beneath each anchor with strips of artificial material, ensuring no tear will mar her perfection. She is durable, resilient—my perfect muse. And marionette.
The spotlight haloes her and captures every curve and sinew in exquisite detail, including the delicate rows of corset piercings spilling black and crimson ribbons down her back. I stand far above the stage, caught in another spotlight, my hands on the controls of the strings that tether her. The tension in the wires sings through my fingertips, a symphony of restraint and power. Each one is a lifeline, an extension of my will.
She doesn’t look up. Her gaze is distant, her body still, save for the faint rise and fall of her chest. But I know she feels me. She always does.
The music begins, low and haunting, wrapping around us like smoke. The strings respond to the rhythm, and so does she, her body bending and swaying in time with my desire.
“Dance for me, Little Quill…” I command her.
Then, I pull the strings—subtle, a mere whisper of command. Her head tilts, the soft cascade of her hair catching the light as she moves. A second tug, and her arms rise, her fingers curling in an elegant arc.
She follows beautifully, instinctively, as if this were always meant to be.
Her body arches and twists as the hooks in her skin pull her into impossible shapes. The reinforced skin I’ve prepared holds perfectly, her durability as much a masterpiece as her beauty. She’s breathtaking—graceful, delicate, and wholly under my command.
With each flick of my fingers, she dances, the strings guiding her through the motions like a marionette brought to life. Her movements are fluid, almost otherworldly, and the audience is captivated by her vision.
The rose-colored ribbons I’ve chosen trail from her body like veins brought to life, adorned with tiny rubies that glint like blood in the harsh light. Every detail is deliberate, every motion designed to captivate.
But it’s not the audience I’m performing for.
Everything I do, every breath I take, every beat of my heart…is for her alone.