Lady never slept well, in the sense that Lady could not sleep when she wanted to.
She kept strange hours, working well into the wee hours of the morning on all manner of adorable stuffed animals. She liked to take care to make them as lifelike as possible. There was nothing more encouraging than a well made fox statue, of course. And imbuing the skins with necromancer magic could help it regain a lifelike quality it had long forgotten. She had finished the dear just as her body began to wilt. With an effort, she had stumbled up the stairs to her bedroom, opposite her housemate's. She wasn't too worried about waking him, as he had gone to sleep far before her.
She'd managed to slip out of her clothes before crawling into the covers and losing consciousness.
Lady often slept like the dead. Or, rather, like the dead did not. Because the dead were rarely sleeping these days. She had dealt with intruding spirits her whole life, a full-blooded necromancer of intense power was likely to attract them. They reached through the worlds as she slept. She'd found a rather brilliant solution, however, to the unwanted rabble: her former lovers occupied the forefront of her mind when she dreamed.
Their sad but reassuring faces kept her company. They were often angry, at first, or terrified when they joined the ranks, but it faded with time. As they understood her reasons better, they understood that she needed them with her in this way. This way, with their souls bound in place, with their spirits whispering in her ears, this way she could survive. There was always love, dripping from their pores and filling her up from her toes to the tiptop of her ears to her shining silver eyes. She could move through the world, push through the hellish call of wandering spirits and the other world's awful echoes with their support.
They were often angry, and sometimes they cried, but mostly, they loved her. As they should.
They couldn't stop loving her, after all, she'd stopped them before they could.
Lady knew Javier didn't have any such luck, and that his sleep was fitful compared to hers. While she slept happily, he tossed and turned all night. He often rose long before her, angry and irritated at the slightest thing.
She made an effort to raise his mood whenever he had a bad night, but Javier was so characteristically difficult.
The ringing of a bell opened Lady's eyes, halfway through the fourth REM cycle, like a well trained dog perking up at the slid of a key into its slot. Had Javier climbed the stairs and shaken his companion, he would have found it difficult to wake her. But Lady was always keen to the ring of the servant's bells.
They were a hold over from older times, older owners of their three story affair. She'd touched up the system, added new rooms, and instructed Javier to use them if it were an emergency. Then she'd forced herself to respond to them whenever they rang. It was difficult at first, but she could only do her best for her noble friend.
A little boy covered in blood, broken and battered on the street, bleeding out for all he was worth. She could feel his soul fluttering, detaching. She shivered. The feeling of it was one she knew well. She'd been a doctor for a long time and she couldn't save everyone. And of course, she loved to feel the soul as it slipped from the body of her lovers, choking gently in her loving wire-grip. Something about the way he felt to her, like a tingle down her spine, pooling somewhere in her back, a comforting hand perhaps, had led her to lend her aide.
Keep him from draining into the water and soil and becoming one with the earth. It was a dead useful encounter–she was glad she'd made her decision. He had grown into a splendid young man, though a little on the wild side. He assisted her in her practice, and in disposal when it was necessary.
Sadly, she thought, climbing from her bed, he is the one who kills the most. Even she couldn't go through lovers as fast as Javier could go through a tantrum.
Lady didn't bother with getting dressed. She slipped on a black silk robe, which would have been at her knees had she been a more compact woman, but rode up her thigh when caught on her generous hips. She tied the sash hastily and made her way down the stairs.
The smell of death brushed against her senses. Between the sterilized whiff of the doctor's office and the formaldehyde tang of the taxidermy study, the copper caress of blood in her foyer was easy to perceive.
Pausing at the base of the stairs to take in the headless corpse and its detached cap, she gave the silver haired man a long suffering glance.
"Javier, my love, there's a time and a place to dance with death, and it is sadly not in my foyer with my tightest weave rug."
Javier would not respond, of course, besides a gesture or two. Javier was mute, likely a structurally related condition rather than psychologically induced. She had checked, after all, if he had suffered brain damage in the fight she'd found him after.
Pulling the shoulder of the robe up a little higher so as not to expose herself, Lady held her hands out and gathered her magic for a powerful blood cleaning spell. They'd have to drain the actual corpse before she could work it into pieces and refrigerate before mulching, but she could clean the floor before it dried.
"Sachapụ," she intoned. As she neared the body, she brought her hands closer together, "Mechie na okpomọkụ."
The spell cauterized the flesh of the neck where it had been severed on both the head and the body. The smell of burning flesh wafted through the room gently before dissipating, almost like it had been an afterthought.
She patted Javier's arm. "Be a dear and help me move these to the practice, darling."