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             KINGFISHERVERSARY / HALLOWEEN BONUS 2013                           Take me home, delicious heart.

 

"FÊTE GALANTE"

PART 3 of 4

Art by Christopher Shelton and Kelly Martin

Written by Kelly Martin

 

 

The young people circled around the tables and took their places. The company was all long limbs and fine garments. Christelle felt like a stumpy fraud. Her eyes began to adjust to the dull orange light as she took her seat. In front of her was a plate of dark food. She squinted at it. It was glossy and wet and... lumpy. She smelled the heady scent of iron. Liver?

The young man sitting next to her lifted his fork, and then promptly sat it down again. He stared miserably at his plate.

 

 
 

 

   
 

 
  
   "Is it meat?" he asked, "Er, looks like sausages? Or eh, organs? I don't really know."

      "Um, y-yeah, it does... Don't imagine it's vegan, huh? Ha! ...Yeah."

      "Do you know what's going on? Are we, um, supposed to eat this? That man said it was a banquet..."

      "Yeah I'm not gonna eat this. I'm vegan."

She was vegan... three years ago. It was never too late to take it up again, and now seemed like a good time. The food smelled very salty and burned. It reminded her of her dad's terrible barbeque skills. Yet, for something that looked scorched on the outside, parts of it sure looked raw. She thought she spied a large blue vein on a chunk of mystery meat.

She poked a 'sausage' with the sharp tip of a knife, and a gout of dark fluid oozed out aggressively.

The lovely young people looked at each other nervously, and then began hesitantly picking up their silverware. It would be terribly rude to turn down food from your host, and surely this was some kind of gourmet treat. They had to broaden their horizons, live a little...

 
 

                

 

Christelle pushed the blobs of flesh around on her plate without even looking at them. The faces of the beautiful youths showed revulsion and determination. A girl across from her gagged loudly and unashamedly spit something into her hand. She held aloft a small object and stared at it in horror.

      "It's a-- a fingernail?"

Plates clattered abruptly as everyone shoved them away. People scrambled about, looking for the goblets that sat here and there-- but found them filled with thick clotted blood and oily organs.

Before anyone could reach for their dinner mints, the soft padding of bare feet on stone alerted everyone to take notice.

 

 

 

       Auberon emerged from the dark, waving his hands to show off some kind of impressive light show. People forgot the greasy slime coating their mouths for just a moment, and clapped. Christelle was impressed, she honestly had no idea how he did that. Rich folks always got the coolest gadgets.

The lanky host approached the table with a warm expression. His bare torso was adorned with glimmering diamond scepters and his entire person seemed to glitter in the scant light.

      "Welcome, my beauties! I am Lord Auberon," he said with a melodious tone. Again, Christelle was impressed, she'd only seen pictures of the infamous fashion plate. Here in person he was truly unforgettable, a near head taller than the tallest of the leggy models she sat next to. His clothes were amazing, parts of it looked like they were made of ancient cloth, yellowed and moth-eaten, and parts shimmered with rich texture and ornamentation.

If she didn't already feel insecure, now she really did. Of course, she was better able to concentrate on the man, as everyone else was still gagging on their dinner.

      "Did you enjoy your repast? I made it myself, freshly this very eve."

The terrible acting on display was truly shameful. Stiff grins and crinkled foreheads weren't fooling anyone. Christelle smiled sheepishly, and the host seemed to take note of her. She felt a little bashful suddenly.

 

 

    
 

 

Lord Greyburn sauntered over to lean against the back of the skeleton's chair, as though they were good chums. Christelle had to stifle a broad grin. Sheesh, it wasn't like she really did come here to bone the guy, no matter what Scylla thought. But he was pretty charming and amusing already, and maybe it was just the nervous energy that wasn't to bubble up as girlish giggles. How embarrassing! Of course it was probably easier to feel that way, since she didn't eat whatever that disgusting shit was. The faces around her showed only extreme trepidation. She stretched her lips into a tight line and tried to pay attention.

 

 

 

      "Did you acquaint yourselves with my dear son, Nicholas?"

The young beauties traded some confused looks, and smiled awkwardly. Christelle wanted to roll her eyes. Don't they know anything about Auberon? He's super well-known for his absurd and macabre humor. This wasn't even challenging or anything, get with the program people!

      "Nicholas is happy to meet you all, he helped me with your dinner tonight. He... sacrificed very much for your pleasure."

There was an uncomfortable pause. Of course, it was a silly joke. C'mon people. Again, Auberon seemed to catch Christelle's eye, giving her an inscrutable gaze through spider-leg lashes. Was he on to her? It didn't seem like that kind of look...

The snotty young man from earlier peered from around the curtain.

      "Everything is clear, my Lord. You can begin your entertainment now."

He had the tone of complete servitude, he even did a meek little bow. Auberon didn't even glance at him. After all that lip earlier, he was just an obsequious toadie. What a chode!

      "Now I had requested on my invitation that only humans be present tonight. Is this the case at this dinner table?"

Uncomfortable silence was followed by nervous chuckling and weak nods. Christelle was a bit taken aback, the Lord looked directly at her as he asked this. His manner had grown quite serious.

      "You see, I wish I could invite all creatures of God, but some take advantage of this. Not everyone can be invited, not all are smiled upon by God."

She felt a lump in her throat. Oh god, is he really on to me? Is it that obvious?

      "So if you are indeed not human, I will ask you to leave. Whether you are close to God or not, whether He has created you or not. Leave now."

Christelle swore he was looking into her soul, but after a moment of silence, his smile returned.

 

 

 

 
      "Wonderful! Nicholas, it's a gallant party indeed!"

 Relieved smiles broke out all over the room. Auberon took a seat next to his 'son', and leaned back in a surprisingly casual manner, crossing his legs in the complicated way only very thin people can achieve. People relaxed a bit, and began to quietly talk to one another as the Lord looked on. Christelle noticed that his relaxed demeanor did not seem to be entirely earnest. His hands were tensed on his legs, his nails slowly raking over his sequined tights. He flexed his jaw and glanced around at the young people like he was expecting something.

He abruptly turned to a young woman next to him, and she started a bit at the sudden movement. He visibly stiffened at this sign of discomfort, but tried to continue with his cordial attitude.

      "Isn't it strange that everyone can wear shoes now?" He asked with his strange smile of crooked shingles. The girl smiled back like she was talking to a confused Grandpa.

      "Um, sure."

      "Before these times, I never let my servants wear shoes. That's a luxury to be earned, I say. Today the lower classes feel they do not need to earn our respect. Isn't it a shame?"

She nodded vaguely. He narrowed his eyes at her, suspicious.

      "What do you think of my son? Is he beautiful?"

"Your s-- oh, the skeleton? Y-yeah, you painted it. It's nice."

Auberon abruptly stood, shoving the chair away with a loud skitter. Everyone cut their conversations short, and stared. Christelle felt very uneasy, she was ready to dive for the exit. Not that she had any idea what was going to happen, but it seemed bad in any case. Diving for the exit couldn't hurt.

      "I have tried so hard tonight, and you are but ungrateful children."

The audience made quiet, unconvincing protestations. Auberon shook his head, staring off into the middle distance with misty eyes.

      "You ignore the feast I have provided you, and now you dare to insult my own kin? I always try. I do, I am ever hopeful that humankind can be redeemed. Why must the beautiful be so cold inside? Why can't you be like Helen? Why can you not understand me? You failed the test, you always fail. Goodbye beauties, you shall never again feel pain, may you rest with God the Father in dreamless slumber."

 

 

 

The single buzzing electrical light in the room went black with a quiet snap. Auberon's eyes flashed in the darkness, then blinked out of existence. Christelle could only make out the movement of figures slumping, some of them face first into their sickening leftovers. She had to think quickly, was it poison? Something else? Should she pretend to pass out as well? What the hell was going on?! Something flapped in the darkness with unnatural speed.

She found herself under the table, unable to choose between escaping and hiding. She was frozen, trying to inch forward but her shaking legs would only creep at a sluggish pace. The stone floor was cold under her, and something was thumping on the table above. Someone walking on top of it?

 

 

 

    
 

She heard disgusting noises, slurping and wet thumps. It sounded like someone pulling the legs off very large and undercooked turkeys. What was happening? She shivered under the tablecloth, blind and terrified.

Slap slap slap, something was falling to the floor with wet thuds. She couldn't bear to look.

The light flickered on again, and she could see dark puddles creeping under the table. She tried to move, her muscles felt like they were made of clay.

Cold hands pulled her back into the light.  

 

 

  
  
 PART FOUR IS NEXT

 

 

 


 

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     November 3rd, 2013
     By:  Christopher

Kelly said he was taking some inspiration from Trinity's impromptu fan story in the comments, and wants to send thanks. Thanks, Trinity! It may be subtle, but I believe he's playing up a bit of tenderness on the part of our disturbing host.

There is one more part to come, despite our best intentions. When things don't go according to plan around here, it is pretty much always my fault. I shall get into more details about that soon, if I can ever be expected to keep a schedule or a promise of any kind. :-P

Well then... This is a horrific page. I imagine by the time you get down to reading this post, you will be wiping your most recent meals from your chins. Many apologies. If you need an anti-emetic, I recommend medical marijuana. It's super effective!

 
 
 
 
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