The Un-Named One leans into the shallow pool toward the reflection of fruit hanging overhead from branches of a Pomegranate tree. His knobby brown hand dips into the water and scoops from it one perfect ripe red globe, splitting it off its stem and opening its waxy skin to reveal its flesh.
“Ah, fruit of the underworld..” he coos, stroking it lovingly. “So very misunderstood..hm?”
“Humans are just too literal.” He declares in his best Pompous Narrator’s voice, and laughs. Always a performance, even if only for a pomegranate.
Lowering his mouth to its open wound he sucks theatrically at its sweet pink pearls, groaning with pleasure. As he eats he admires his reflection – dark almonds for eyes above wide cheekbones and an almost-too-large nose. A goatee and moustache outline full – rude- lips and black unkempt hair flops across his forehead hiding horn buds. His naked body is oiled and loose after his night of preparations.
“so goddarn beautiful.” He says to himself, turning his head this way and that, enjoying the full irony of the compliment along with his reflection in the pool. He allows his attention to drop below his waist;
“what a shame to have to let these go” he drawls to no one in particular, nodding toward his goat legs and hoofs and sighing at the inefficiency of human feet, “but this time I’ll have to walk”.
Discarding the husk of his little feast, The Un-Named One spends a moment in serious contemplation of his task. One hand drifts up to tug on the tuft of hair between his lower lip and his chin, eyes narrowed in concentration.
The story needs to be told but he’s aware of the danger of planning it out in his mind before it even begins – for him doing things that way is never as good. A quick fuck, over before he knows it and not worth revisiting. No, this has to unfold as it must.
“and she needs me” he tells himself, brightening considerably.
Standing now, the Un-Named One stretches out in his new human form, getting the feel of his legs. With a grin he reaches between his legs to assess the condition of his manly parts.
“Ha!. Not so like a mortal after all!” He shouts, laughing and delighted.
He looks back down at the pool and sees her standing by and open window, the dark red curtain of her hair lifting slightly in the breeze revealing one white shoulder. He watches her watching something in the street outside and waits for her to notice his eyes on her skin. Slowly she turns away from the window toward the mirror, green eyes opening wider, lips parting as she takes a sharp breath in –
“You!” she whispers.
So it begins.