The Five Points of a Star
Summary: Blood and memories used in a complicated ritual. A graveyard at night, mists crawling across the ground like a shadowed snake. A resurrection. Facilier/OC.
Disclaimer: The Princess and the Frog is not owned by me. This is just a fanfiction.
March 16, 2010 Note: This was written as a joke for a Mary Sue contest over at the dr_facilier community on Livejournal.
The future was always static. There was no way of changing what was predicted; Kiandra knew that better than anyone. With no way of working around what was Seen there was only one option: to accept what would happen, and to work to reverse it.
So she left New Orleans and traveled the world for ten years, learning under Shamans and witches to master and control her craft. It wasn't until now that she was ready to return back to the place of her birth.
Kiandra Ebony LeClaire bent over the grave, her hair, as black and lustrous as the night sky and threaded with glittering glass beads which made it sparkle and shimmer like the stars, fell over her shoulders and curtained her face like silken drapes. Her nimble fingers skirted the moist soil, tracing a large pentagram into the dirt.
The graveyard was eerie at night; fog as thick as honey slithered along the ground. The screech of an owl echoed through the dark mist that blanketed the stars as a chill crept along Kiandra's spine.
She kneeled before the perfect pentagram, drawn with her own quick fingers in the dirt of a lone grave. This was her own form of magic, adopted from the various examples of foreign witchcraft she had studied for this very purpose.
She pulled out a dagger decorated with intricate symbols and pierced her ring finger on the blade. Each of the pentagram's fives tips had to be marked with blood and a memory for the spell to succeed.
She leaned forward, the lace of her black skirt dragging in the loam. Kiandra's honeyed amber eyes flashed in the dark, filled with the emotions of stale memories.
Her own crimson blood, glittering in the night, crept down the point of her finger slowly, as if it was honey and not the fluid being pumped through her own veins by the muscle of life. A drop fell on the first point.
Six years old. Kiandra woke in an alley, surprised at her own living. There was a boy next to her, tall and weedy with shabby clothes. "I heard that you could see them… the flashes."
She hesitated, her skinny limbs trembling like a caged rabbit. "Yes." She wondered if he would abandon her too, like her parents did after they discovered her abnormalities. She had been walking the streets alone ever since, her hungry stomach gnawing away inside of her.
"I see 'em too," he said instead.
Her hand moved to the second point, finger extended as the red drop fell.
Eight years old. "You can see more than me," Facilier told her, shoving his warm hands into worn pockets. "I can read people's pasts and see little glimpses of their desires, but I don't see the future."
"I don't see the past at all, though." Kiandra hugged her knees to her now-developing chest. "All I can see are scenes from the future. Awful things - and I can't change them."
He sat next to her, pushing a pebble around in the dust with a stick as long and thin as his own fingers. "I heard there's some sort of Voodoo guy living on the other side of town. He might be able to teach us how to control this." There was a look of exultation on Facilier's face when he spoke charismatically, which Kiandra cherished. "You just wait," he told her. "Soon we'll be the powerful ones, and those people who pass us by on the streets wont be able to ignore us anymore."
The wind whipped through her midnight-black hair away from the nape of her neck, casting it behind her to merge with the shadows of the night, the silver beads glittering with movement. Red fell on the third point.
Sixteen. A kiss on tender lips. She had meditated for years and had never been able to gain a successful vision, as they only came at spontaneous intervals, until now. This was the first time she had controlled a vision of the future, and she couldn't help but throw herself on the boy she grew up with and desired. They backed into a table, stacks of tarot cards falling and scattering across the floor. He kissed with ferocity, the same intensity that he gained whenever he talked about his goals.
Kiandra's evening-purple top fell against her bosom as she leaned forward to the fourth point.
Nineteen. He was a man now, and his powerful lithe form snaked around hers. His voodoo had given him a taste for power, and she could give it to him. Kiandra wanted him to dominate her, to be completely under his control. His violet eyes were filled with this need, and with his honey-smooth voice he made her beg for it, writhing under his naked, graceful sinuous form. It brought heat throughout her body, being his and only his. She was reduced to gasping pleas, begging for him to rule her. "Yours. Only yours."
He thrust into her with the same fierceness he exhibited while using Voodoo. The pain and pleasure wrapped around her body, plunging her into an exhilarating haze. Their magic, serpent-green and vibrant purple, swirled around their bodies in powerful torrents, binding their naked forms together.
The last point. Kiandra's honeyed eyes sparkled as brilliant as moonbeams with anticipation.
Twenty five. Kiandra emerged from Seeing, her Vision clinging to her as the morning dew to a flower, flowing from her body as thickly slow as honey. Facilier laid next to her, his tall figure pressed into her lush bare skin. Kiandra's amber eyes flickered beneath long, dark lashes, and the girl rose out of the gentle embrace of warm blankets and crept out of the bed as quietly as she could.
She had always tried to change particularly awful visions, but was never able to succeed. The dark-haired girl had to accept that the future was never altered, that there was not way to transform destiny.
But now she had seen something she would do anything to change. She saw her Facilier being dragged by his own shadow into the pits of hell. There was nothing she could do to stop it from happening, but there was a chance she could work around it. Kiandra had heard of Necromancers from other cultures. She could learn their craft and bring him back. It was the only chance.
She slunk around the room without a whisper to alert her sleeping Facilier, packing her clothes and possessions. She looked at the room, with its vibrant colors and magic, before closing the paint-chipped door.
Kiandra left to travel the world, studying all types of magic until she found a way to bring him back.
The last drop of blood had fallen and the memory given. The pentagram seemed to burst with color and light, vibrant purple rushing through the black evening as swift and heavy as a river. The magic swirled into a tall vortex, winding thickly around the marked star. Then the vibrant purple was suddenly gone, dissipated as quickly as a blown out candle, and there he stood.
He stood as strait and elegant as she remembered, but his stance told of disorientation. Facilier hesitated before looking around, flinching at the shadows of the graveyard. His eyes caught hers and they widened in shock before narrowing down as his face turned into something cruel. "You," his voice was cold, but as smooth as liquor as it slid honey-thick down her body. Violence flashed in his violet eyes. She knew his temper, and his ability to carry a grudge. He thought that she had abandoned him, and he would want her to pay.
Kiandra stood from her crouch outside the star, the lace of her skirt falling against her slender legs and she stared at him. Ten years she had waited for this moment. "You can see the past, so don't you know why I left? And what I desire?"
His eyes spoke of mistrust, but he closed them very slowly. When he opened them again the violet was tinted with shock and faint hope, "You left for me."
Her head nodded slowly, the sparkling beads in her hair bobbing. "I had to leave to save you. But I still abandoned you. I hurt you." She could taste the thick anticipation in her mouth, as icy as cool mint. It had been so long and she wanted his domination so very badly. "I should be punished."
Something dark and tight wrapped around her slender ankles and she fell backwards onto the earth while Facilier's shadow retreated back into its place.
Kiandra's pliant body trembled on the cold ground, the black spider-webbed lace of her skirt riding up against her hips in delicate crinkles. Her loins were wet with hot anticipation.
Facilier's shadow became as thick and fluent as molten honey, fluidly shaping into a snake and slithering up her supple body. Kiandra was completely bound by the ghostly coils of the viper, her tender limbs locked into a willing position by the twisting serpent.
His lips curled into the forbidding smirk that she was so familiar with, and he said three words in his melting dark-chocolate voice that caused pinpricks of cold pleasure to run down her spine.
"Are you ready?"