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Whispers	By : SilentSniper Category: +S through Z > Xiaolin Showdown Views: 3311 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Xiaolin Showdown, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
The Sword of the Storm. Check
Shen-gong-wu. Check.
He was ready.
Eyes of jaded emerald burned and burned with determination whilst lips quivered in slight fear and legs remained steady and hands shaking slightly throughout the torrent waves of emotion.
I need to do this…for his sake and my sake.
His mind replayed again and again the anger and betrayal in the black eyes of his dear friend; of how it resembled his when the wicked witch whispered how lonely and needy he was and how he needed her. Replayed over and over again the way he felt when the demon-woman did indeed claim him as her own with her toxic touch and poisoned kiss; and knew that is what the evil dragon intended to happen to his fragile friend.
He slung the dull brown sack over his shoulder, full of powerful glittering weapons and walked out of the room with a fire burning in his belly.
Nobody heard him leave for he the wind.
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The child of the water was in his grasp, completely and utterly…well maybe not completely and utterly for a sliver of his world remained-the world of warm sunshine, of sweet laughter, and the smell of fresh lush grass; a world that he had not forgotten.
His russet-gold eyes shifted over to the boy who kicked and leaped and dashed about; who wore his chosen black robes and scarlet sash. His plan was coming together…very very soon he shall be able to claim the boy of the waves. The water dragon already smelled of tainted innocence and life.
Just one. More. Step.
His eagle eyes changed their thoughtful hue into a more alert shade of gold and he glanced to the left of him. He sensed. He sensed the calm pulsing flow of the wind and sneered savagely, but without anybody seeing him.
Not ready. He‘s not mine yet…he thought with venomous bile.
Yet the child of the wind was ready and willing to attack his dark and dank cave-castle. So foolish, but he knew that something defining was brewing within the winds. Something ultimate and evil and foolish, but that was none of his concern.
“Omi…”he said calmly as his long thin fingers beckoned.
The boy, the dear foolish boy cringed slightly as his velvet voice reached his ears and Chase had to smirk smugly. He knew why Omi cringed ever so slightly before stepping into his magnificent golden throne; those dreams, his shadowy hands and faint kisses haunted him and drew him closer to him. It was all there in his now white eyes, but he could also see the way Omi hid it all away from him with a wicked smile that the Ying Yo-Yo has bestowed upon him. He frowned at that smile, it was frozen and empty. Yes, he was on the Heylin side, but only because of his trickery.
Not for long, though.
“Chase?” came the small voice to bring him back.
The wind brewed stronger and smelled of revenge, so he had to act; to possess everything and anything and this child. Quickly, he waved his hand at the water warrior and the water warrior fell into his arms unconscious and without so much as a cry.
With the child in his arms, he began the last and final stage to make the water dragon his.
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The evil dragon was right, the wind was heavy with the smell of vengeance. The Dragon of the Wind was hastily making his way inside the depths of his dreary cave with the uttermost cautious and fury. Emerald eyes darted to and fro, searching and seeking the one person he needed to complete his plan.
He spied that very person perched on the fountain that decorated Chase’s asinine green garden. The person glanced at him with eyes that mirrored his own and smiled a smug and knowing smile.
“Raimundo…what a pleasure to see you…” Wuya purred as she smiled her sickly sweet scarlet smile.
The boy of the wind merely nodded. “I need help, Wuya.”
Her pretty red smile widened to show her white pointy teeth. “Oh?” she asked indulgently.
She couldn’t help, but gloat over the poor boy. He was shaking and shuddering and utterly disgusted. His lips trembled in barely contained fury whilst his hands were clutched at his side. Those deep jade eyes shined with fury and traces of unspeakable terror. It was delicious to witness.
He was scared. Just staring at her lithe form with waterfall of blood-dipped hair and gleeful python-green eyes brought memories of muddled sight and smell. Her throaty voice and sharp red claws brought about memories of foggy fear and desperation. Of those murky nights that burned with the scent of incense and heat and mold. Of nights that were clouded in the barely lit darkness; adding more to his fear at that time.
Still, he has to do this for Omi, so he had to stop his knees from shaking. He had to be strong and uncaring, like the wind that he so was.
“I need to know where Omi is,” he declared with renewed courage.
The witch laughed a mirthless laugh. “Raimundo, Raimundo…why should I know where your little boy is?”
Sneering and smiling, he said, “Tell me where he is…and-and I shall do whatever you want.”
Her eyes glittered with glee at the new proposition, but frowned instantly. “How do I know you won’t forget your promise when you rescue the boy?”
Raimundo sighed. “You have my xiaolin word.”
The elegant willowy vessel of evil smiled and walked over to the sun-kissed boy and placed a slender on his shoulder.
“I’ll shall you take you where your little boy is…but I want to take your promise.” she stated as she stared at him with hidden intentions.
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The young water warrior was resting on a large soft bed; a small tiny figure in a sea of deep silk emerald. Eyes of eerie white opened to glance at the surrounding, but had not the strength to move. He could see those; the looming figure that was the dragon who looked at him with rusted eyes and evocative smiles.
He could feel rough soft hands sliding up and down everywhere in leisured and quick pace as it scorched his skin; like in his beautiful haunting dreams. Suffering numbly as searing lips pressed upon his mouth and skin in quiet demand. The silky flimsiness of the sheets that brushed against his skin was so forbiddingly and scandalously delicious. It was all so very far away and so very very faint.
All he could see was long dark hair falling over a harsh narrow face, long elegantly gnarled finger that ghosted over his skin and the emerald hue of the cloud and blinding fire. Fire all over.
He let out a teeny tiny moan. Fire all over. So hot and so cold. So very cold that he shivered. He heard a single sound; the sound of someone’s barking chuckle at the base of his vulnerable throat and it sent shivers of fear and delight down his back.
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He winced as a single red nail pressed against his tender dark skin; making its point so very obvious. His body twisted and curved against the ocean of beautiful lilac sheets whilst his resolve weakened little by little.
He could see her, that terrible witch. Her eyes so vibrant green and wicked set deep in her beautiful elfish face gazed at him intently; those sinful ruby-red lips captured his own in a kiss tasting of spices, herbs and red red wine, but also death, her lush mane of silky blood-red hair burned his skin.
Pleasure and pain and suffering and sick desire sent fire through his veins as the evil malicious witch worked her magical web over him.
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He could only raise his arms up to clutch at the shadowy figure above him and twist and arch against the other’s searing warmth. It was still so hot and he reeled with dizziness as scorching lips kissed his fervently; tasting a spicy flavor of peppermint and pungent tea and decay.
He ached and burned and flew when his senses overloaded as kisses and touches and heat ravage him and he couldn’t stop. He was addicted to these feeling of rapture and he loved it, but he was still so cold.
His vision, it was clearing as sensations passed through him in waves. He saw the black hair so vividly against his skin, saw the narrow golden eyes staring at him with unfathomable feeling and lips curved in a sinning smile and the long gracefully gnarled fingers against his skin.
Pleasure and delight and warm and cold passed through him in a cool rush and all he could do was mewl.
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His eyes burned at the sight and his mouth dried as the witch bared her supple form to his young tainted eyes. He couldn’t scream, it was lodged in his throat.
Omi. This is for Omi.
Oh, how she laughed and mocked at the desperation in his emerald eyes. Her own jade eyes mirrored her sick delight and mockery; shaming him even further. Her sharp claws wounding his flesh as they dug deeper and deeper; as if to pierce his beating heart. Red slashed lips kissed and bit and hurt with contained thirst; his life withered away with every burning kiss.
Omi. I will bring you home.
How her lithe body moved against his in a sensuous dance and how her red hair brushed against him in a similar dance. How he hated it.
He withered and trashed and arched; denying the wicked burning touch of the witch’s lips and hands.
“Why? How long…?” he muttered underneath his gasping breath.
“I shall tell you where the child is…patience,” the demon-woman muttered against his ear quietly and promising.
His body sank back into the satiny sheets of her bed, eyes comprehending her mutters and could only hope.
Omi…Omi…please don’t fade away from me. Wait for me to save you. Repel the evil dragon. Don’t let him touch you…he thought and hoped more and more as the shimmering strands drove him deeper into the web.
His resolve broke. His throat couldn’t hold. He screamed into the darkness of her room.
---------
He could still feel the kisses and touches and the heat, but it did not warm his little body. He was still so cold and wanting and cold.
Why couldn’t he fix this? he thought as his white eyes glanced to the person above.
Arching and pleading, he rose and asked for the man to drive the coldness away. The heat of his caresses and leisured kisses burned him, but did not warm him. All he received was a cold dark smile and more touches.
He mewled against the warm lips and begged for something that he himself did not know. Something long forgotten and buried in memories of warm faces with beautiful happy eyes and the crisp afternoon winds; and vanishing once more as coldness gripped him again.
His body was weakening and strengthening with something that lurked in the cold shadows; the same cold shadows that tormented his dreams.
“Cold…why? What’s-…” he whispered against the claiming lips of the one he knew so long.
“Because you want power…and I can give you that power,” the voice whispered in his ear so invitingly. He knew what this child wanted. He knew that in his current incoherent state, the child only understood the promise of power.
The darkness within him stirred. Power…yes. The heat he felt was his own blistering power and the coldness was a want for more…and this man could drive away the cold.
Power…I want it. I need it. He could give it to me. This is what I want, he thought sleepily as the kisses and caresses continued.
Still…so cold and wanting, but nothing left him as cold as his insides burned. As the coldness froze his veins and scared him beyond anything he ever knew.
He screamed into the darkness of the room.
- 4
- 5
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Whispers