Welcome to kushiels_slayer, where the Buffyverse and Kushiel's Legacy come together. Often literally.
Other drabbles and longer pieces will be added soon, but to kick off the community, here's the first drabble in our series. Enjoy.
Title: Kushiel's Hand
Disclaimer: Jacqueline and Joss, not us.
It began at Gentian House. I am told that Drusilla nó Gentian was tending the roses of the garden when she collapsed, back arched and eyes wide as she gaped at the sky. “She comes!” she cried, tearing her robes from her sweating body. Dirt smeared on her pale skin; leaves and thorns caught in her dark tresses. An apprentice ran for the Dowayne while Adepts gathered around her writhing form, intent on the visions to which they were all masters and slaves.
"She comes! No ichor of angels in her, no, but she’s touched.... Blessed, she is, yes, by Kushiel’s cruel hand and tempered…She has the strength of Camael! Searching, searching...'Love as thou wilt,' spake he, 'Love,' and she searches for...!"
Drusilla arched her back once more, lost as the force of her ecstasy reverberated through her body. The Dowayne himself witnessed it as he came running: how her muscles clenched in exquisite agony, crimson lips parted in a silent cry of praise to Naamah, thighs dripping with salty-sweet fluid. She hung as though frozen, and those closest to her gasped as they felt the edge of her vision brush against them like a sudden wind.
And I paid this first sign no mind. I--who bore the prick of Kushiel's dart in my eye, who in service to Naamah had been used by both Kushiel and Elua, who knew better than all others what it was to yield to the hand of gods--I foolishly thought that this was no more than a simple vision.
I wanted too much for my part in history to be done.