Origin Of Sin

23. Under The Shield

CHAPTER 23 UNDER THE SHIELD

"Catherine, shush— Stay still, you look beautiful,"

Soft giggling emanated from the television, static cutting in, warping it but not tampering the beautiful sound. "You flatter me, Klaus, but don't film me I look absolutely awful,"

"I'll take a video of my beautiful bride to be if want to.." There was a tentative, almost nervous pause,  and Catherine, I told you, you don't have to call me—"

More giggling, "And for what are you always taking videos on such an old, junky camera, husband to be? You can afford thousands of better ones, the best ones,"

"I'll tell you,"

There was shuffling, much louder giggling and then kissing sounds before the camera fell to its side and the corner of white silks on a mattress could be seen. The quality of the picture was scratchy, in and out of focus and sideways. But in the distance, a younger Zuemier could be seen on top of a beautiful blonde, big blue eyed woman with wavy, curly hair cut into a bob and fluttering eyelashes that floated flirtatiously at him. She was gorgeous, in an ethereal way and Zuemier seemed to be absolutely smitten.

They met each other's eyes and after a moment of silence, Zuemier planted a deep and meaningful kiss on Catherine's lips.

"I love you, Catherine Etalia," He poured his heart out in a whispered hush on her lips.

Even Catherine seemed surprised by the sincerity but she grew a soft smile and kissed his forehead softly. "I love you too, Lust of Sualk."

Zuemier paused, shoulders stiff before Catherine giggled, bringing her lips to his and he visibly relaxes under her elegant touch. "I love you too, Klaus Sualk," She mended and the picture cut out.

.

.

.

Zuemier turned off the TV, tossing the remote towards the top of the set only for it to crack the screen with a terrible crunch.

"Zuemier!" What the hell was he doing breaking TVs that weren't even in his damn room?

Zuemier cursed vehemently under his breath, muttering things in English and others in what I could only guess was German. He swayed as he stood up, using the tall bottle of booze as a cane of sorts to support his weight on the armrest of the couch. I noticed in his other hand, a blue envelope was in his vice grip, crumpled.

Even from the distance, he towered over me. He reeked of alcohol and the powdered line on his hand told me booze wasn't the only thing he had succumbed to. He had shadows under his eyes and the scruffy chin I had tasted only a day or two ago had developed into a short beard that made him look even more haggard.

I took a cautious step towards him and he simply stared, the hatred in his eyes yet to dissipate. I had familiarity with men doped up but not as much with drunk men, but I felt like my tactic should have some overlap.

"Are you feeling alright?" I spoke softly and calming. There's no point in yelling at someone who doesn't even know what's going or at least won't the next day.