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Lagrimosa Lore


Posts posted by Nox

  1. Shinguri reclined in the Master's embrace, fingertips idly ghosting over the stubble that graced his well moisturized cheeks as she squirmed, cooed and sighed with his every attention.  Tri-pointed ears in a relaxed, laid back position as she languidly listened to the sounds of his voice, his words of advice thoughtful and wise.  On many occasions Paris had taken the little naiad to task for some unknowing transgression.  His tone when giving such instruction was always matter of fact, even kind.   She'd come to learn that a second instruction on the same subject was often much more physical in nature, particularly if it was more than just the need to expound on a previously discussed subject.  Such "lessons" were often brutally painful and for her part, always remembered.  The prime example being earlier that very day when she'd been confined to Paris's diabolically clever flask.  What means then, would he use to discipline the lovely feline?  To her shock and slight horror, The Prince plopped the problem of the Kitten's instruction squarely in her little blue skinned lap.  His rich voice rippled over her skin,sinking through muscle and bone and settled with a deep pulse at the apex of her thick little thighs. Unable to prevent herself, she squirmed in his embrace, a small whimpering sigh  belying her shock at the meaning of the words thus spoken  After the initial shocked blanch of thick lashed lids, Shinguri turned her head and gazed up at him, peridot eyes wide as she nodded acquiescence, knowing full well it would be she to whom punishment would fall should Helaine fail to learn quickly. 

    "Yes, Master."  She reiterated verbally, stroking his cheek once more with soft fingertips. 

    Upon emerging from the last stretch of dense forest,  snapping pinions brought her gaze around to the fore. The gold lion crest of the Lorean family shimmering in the faded light.  Teasing banter between Lord Student and subordinate instructor brought a small smile to the little Nymph's purple tinted lips.  It had taken quite some time for her to even partially understand the relationship shared by Ser Solomon and his Prince.  It went far beyond monarch and bodyguard.  After being privy to  hundreds of interactions between the two she began to see that their gruff comradely masked a deep friendship and an abiding respect on both sides.  

    The approaching retinue was of little concern to Shinguri, having been in their company with her Lord on many occasions.  She simply sighed, her gaze wandered to the suffering Heliane.  The ride would be over soon, but for the unsuspecting Kitten, the adventure was only just beginning. 

  2. Nimble fingers, gloved and bloody, worked quickly to re-close the stitches that he'd torn in his show of bravado. The macho male protector who was going to save the day. Truth was, he already had. It had been his insistence upon doing more, that he could do more after they'd reached the relative safety of his quarters... and she'd so patiently patched up flesh that had been sliced and diced. Taken in haste though they were, she'd been careful and made even, sure stitches, but there had been places where tattered skin, torn in battle rather than sliced that was far harder to stitch. And so here she was touching up those stitches. His convincing assurances of healthful vigor had almost been his undoing. If she was going to be honest with herself, it was kind of a turn on. Jhulae had always had a thing for men who were full of themselves in one way or another. Be it over confidence in their own abilities or a just a massive superiority complex, that kind of sublime tenacity seemed to hold her attention. Not to mention the fact that even gravely wounded and pale, Aquill was exceedingly pretty for a man of his size.

    The job was made harder by Quill's wandering hands and his refusal to lay back and relax. Previously, he'd been unconscious. Moving him about had not been easy for one of her diminutive stature, by any means. But stitching an unconscious man had proven much easier than stitching an semi alert one. He insisted upon sitting up this time, his eyes taking in her every action as she worked, right down to her smallest, most insignificant gesture. Calloused digits, traced electric thrills lightly over any bit of exposed skin, making her body buck and writhe ever so slightly. Every time she had glanced at his face to check for change in pallor, sheen and expression, he'd been looking her over, much like a thick cut of meat on a starving man's table. She found it most unsettling. Did he not understand how much danger they both were in still? Was his mind wandering with blood loss, she wondered? It stood to reason though. Given the aggressively feral finesse of his fighting style, it was not hard to see that the man was a being of primal desires and drives. Likely there was little time between thought and action. Jhulae herself had a tendency take the job first and ask questions later. And her excessive curiosity often led her into tight, even dangerous situations as it had that very evening.

    Almost finished, she'd begun to breath a little easier until his huge paw curled itself along the lower curve of her back, his touch warm and electric and firm. Blue eyes blinked owlishly, glazed and unfocused for a moment as he looked at her. His voice surprisingly strong as he tried to reassure her as to his “inevitable” recovery.

    “You said that before... And here we are again.” She laughed, purplish lips curling into a soft smile, his assurances continuing over her admonition. “And you are welcome. You saved my life earlier.... It's the very least I could do.” With one small hand, she patted the cushion beside his thigh, her hand then moving in a wave motion to indicate he recline. “Now... I suggest you lay back and get some rest.”

    She'd been about to stand, fingers still gloved and stained red with his blood when he grabbed her. It was not a rough grip but it was insistent. Before she knew it, he'd lifted her tiny frame onto lap, then up a little further, both huge hands gripping her at the waist, to pressing her tight against his broad, uninjured chest as their lips met in a firm lock. First reaction had been to stiffen in preparation to kick off and roll away but, in this situation, she had to reign in instinct. She dared not struggle for fear of reopening his wounds. Instead Bloody hands curled inward and turned away from his body so as not to stain neither her clothes nor his beyond what they already were. There was no turning away, he was too fast...


    Full, cupi-bow lips were glued to his, the slightest tingle of electric current dancing between them. The rise and fall of her chest was rapidly increased, her breath quivering with both alarm and excitement.

    Making out, even with one so man pretty as the preternatural Archer in such a situation struck her as highly inappropriate. And yet she did nothing to stop him, made no move to pull away from his rapidly trembling physique. The skin of her face flushed, electric, almost wanton attraction dancing in her brain like a lover. For a moment, she could not help but fall into it, to melt against his chest. He was so pretty, and virile, and highly skilled... Powerful... An unseen blush covering ebony cheeks, the excitement of being manhandled thus by such a being making the skin of her chest tightened inexplicably. Fluttering eyes caught site of her bloody hand, wrist against his shoulder to hold sanguine digits aloft brought her out of an electrified fog. Firmly she pulled away, purposefully taking slow deep breaths to try and calm her surprisingly elevated reparation rate.

     "None of that... For now."  She smiled reassuringly and slowly extricated herself from his strong grip, careful not let his strain. Pulling off her bloody gloves, she tossed them into the garbage before pushing lightly against his shoulder. “Rest...  I've got first watch.” And with that, she slipped from his grasp and easily moved through the darkened room to an advantageous spot spot between the window and the door.

  3. Having learned some few slang words in the common humanoid languages, Shinguri had originally misunderstood the Fem Feline's final statement. It wasn't until she became aware of the chorus of howls rising around the small party that the water spirit realized that the kitten spoke not of pleasurable release, but approaching hunters of the night. Relaxed in the Master's embrace, soft ear spines caught between his lips, Shinguri felt no alarm at the wolf song that suddenly surrounded them. Many were the creatures that had come to drink from the cool waters of her spring fed pond over the centuries before her capture; Wolves among them. She'd not felt any fear of them then, and having had nothing even resembling a hostile encounter with the large canid's she felt none now. Perhaps it was because she did not even remotely understand the kind of damage that such predators could do to soft humanoid tissue. It was also quite likely that because Paris felt no fear, that primal sense had not communicated itself to the little Naiad.

    With dreamy eyes she watched the lovely little kitty writhe helplessly in the Master's saddle though this was slightly less pronounced when the feline assumed her watchful pose.  Poor thing.  The feline's release would be harder fought and not nearly as fulfilling as her own had been.    Howling communication turned to ominous growls, lazily drawing her gaze to the imposing figure of Solomon and his viciously curved Lochaber, the long blade shifting casually from one shoulder to the other as he stared unflinching back at the red eyes of night.  The mountainous man waited for the pack to approach with a calm demeanor that would have chilled even a Balrog's fiery blood.

    The cool breeze on the tips of her ear and the smooth, low rumble of the Master's voice called her attention back to him.  Shifting her shoulders, peridot eyes focused on his handsome face as he spoke. He had expounded on some of the differences between predator and prey on more than one occasion, making a new point each time. As usual, the Nymph listened attentively, drowsily following his line of site. Red eyes, glittering in the deepening dusk vanished, first one, then a few more until finally the only reminder of their brief standoff was a lone call, drifting back to them on the evening breeze. Shinguri waved a small goodbye to their unexpected nocturnal visitors made a wary retreat. Finally she smiled and nodded her head, reaching up to stroke Paris' prickly cheek, a soft “No fear.” murmuring from her lips in acknowledgment of his point being well made.

  4. Even half lidded and writhing in response to her master's fiendish fondling, Shinguri was aware of her inclusion in the fem-feline's emotional state and intense arousal. She was also aware in a vague sort of way that the kitten was feeling the Nymph's emotional state and high level of arousal as well. To this she gave no care, letting the exchange flow freely. Helaine's delightful frustration with Paris' diabolical saddle matched almost perfectly the rising swell of desire between her own trembling stems.

    The feline's hot breath on Singuri's cool fingers and the delicate webbing between them tickled making the little Naiad giggle between squirming sighs. So too did the light dragging of the other's tongue across her smooth, poreless skin. Feathery tingles radiated up her hand even as the trail of saliva began to slowly absorb, eventually leaving pale blue digits and webbing as they had been. Yet their hands remained clasped, one in tune with the other.

    The Master's hand saw to it that the link between them was one of euphoric lust. Hips rocked with the rolling gate of Solomon's horse, pressing and shifting firmly against Paris' desire. Clever digits worked the petite spirit into an absolute frenzy, moaning sighs rising to almost musical, pleading whimpers. Shinguri clung to arm that held her, dancing to her Prince's tune with wild abandon. Being in tune with the writhing kitten only heightened the intensity of the pulsating pressure beyond the brink of explosion. The hand extended to their feline companion clenched into a tiny fist, then flared out, webbing stretched tight between splayed fingers. Satisfaction showered the masters hand and made an absolute ruin of Solomon's saddle, the slick, bluish liquid seeping onto tooled leather as fast as into the naiad's legs.

    Spent, the Naiad slumped against Paris' body, her trembling form shifted to the other arm so that the former could offer a refreshing drink to the yowling feline. Smiling a dreamy smile, she nestled in the comfort and security of the Masters embrace and wondered what it would be like with such a lovely kitten to play with in the palace.

  5. Half lidded and head tilted to one side, Shinguri road at the crest of Solomon's saddle, reclined against Paris, his nibbling affection and proprietary caress titillating the water spirit. Unmindful of the eyes of others, she writhed against his lap in a languid fashion, hips curling against prodding fingers. The swell of her buttocks pressed back into his pelvis and down along his lust lined thigh in an attempt to alleviate the slowly building pressure between her own. One web fingered hand lifting to caress the stubble that prickled forth from his chiseled jaw cheek while a soft purr of a moan vibrated in her slender throat. A small shift in the position of her head nudged the pinions of her ear more fully against the lips that suckled there, blunted chin hairs prickling against the soft membranes folded between them.

    Meanwhile, her gaze remained focused on the silky fur along the curve of Helaine's squirming spine and tail. As curious as the fem-feline was about Shinguri, so too was the little Nymph intrigued about the lovely Wildcat. She did not seem to have skin as humans did, but rather she had fur that fluffed and fluttered in the evening breeze. How soft were the wispy strands, she wondered? Were they as luxurious as the thick fur rug that sat before the fireplace in Paris' bedchamber? Softer perhaps?

    The hand that had been idly fondling her perpetually wet sex suddenly slid the short distance up her torso, the heel of his hand pressing against her rib cage while long fingers cruelly tweaked one tiny blue bud betwixt their tips, his selfish growl that rumbled in her ear. Shinguri yelped then whimpered softly before quickly stifling any further audible protest with clenched jaw and gritting teeth. Unlike the stretching the Prince had given her arm earlier, compression of any kind was especially painful to the little water Nymph. If it was Paris' want that she suffer his wrath, such was her lot. She'd accepted this to be the central fact of her current life. Her eyes, however, filled with heated water as she did her best not to flinch away from the twisting pinch of pain that shot through her chest. As sudden as it began the prince left off his savage twisting of her nipple leaving the tiny bud red and somewhat swollen. Soft warm lips found her cheek, begging forgiveness with a warm, comforting gesture. As always she accepted his silent apologies, nuzzling her cheek against his lips.

    Shinguri blinked as Paris suggested that Helaine touch the Nymph's arm, even going so far as to hold her arm out for the feline to touch. If that was what the Master wanted, she thought with a mental shrug, not bothering herself with his contradictory nature. Instead, she smiled an invitation to the lovely feline, accepting the opportunity to satiate her own curiosity.

    “Not wet.” Shinguri reiterated Paris' reassurance, reaching toward Helaine palm up and webbed fingers splayed to show that she held nothing therein.

  6. She'd watched her new Lord disrobe with fascination glittering clearly in her green eyes, her gaze momentarily dropping down with the overcoat that held the enchanted ring with its beautiful blue jewel in its inner pocket as clothing rained upon the polished marble floor.  Marking its position in the pile, her gaze flickered back to her Master's beautifully sculpted physique. The smooth, rolling hills and planes of his anatomical landscape were pleasing to the sight and strangely stirring to the heightened senses of the little water spirit.  Of course her gaze gravitated to the Prince's lust, lingering unabashed upon the engorged organ that she's been seated on only moments before.  He was correct in his assumption that she'd never seen its like.  Curiosity swept through the inquisitive Naiad.  In aquatic life forms, such appendages were used as bait; a lure, as it were.  Her informative master was generous in his confirmation, though some of what he had said about keys and locks confused the little Nymph.  she'd no experience with such objects and assumed them to be the anatomically correct names for humanoid genitalia.

    "Feast upon?!"  Her eyes grew wide and frightened as Paris took an intimidating, predatory stance and began stalking her. 

    Unable to change form without a direct command, even to protect herself, she took a few hurried steps backward then froze as he closed on her for a gathering of her rather floral scent. Was that his intent? She had indeed felt a deep seated, ravenous hunger emanating from him, but there were many forms of appetite where humans were concerned. Even in her physical form, would such a thing be possible?  She did not, could not know.  The little Naiad had never before been in such a situation. Alarmed, ear pinions fanned out with an aggressive snap, thin blue membranes spanning the space between each point trembling in dramatic display. And then he stood, as if the previous moment's impression of imminent threat had never been.

    Feelings of fright began to diminish as soon as the prince had stood, his posture no longer predatory.  Paris's large hand palmed her head and brought her cheek flush against his upper thigh, the pressure holding her thus causing full lips to purse, puffing outward as if to kiss. Fanned ears settled as his smooth voice soothed her senses, laying back against her head, green eyes again focusing on the massive appendage that pulsed just inches from her face.  The pleasure aspect of which he spoke, was fully understood by the Naiad.  It had indeed felt very good when she'd been seated upon the Prince's lust. She could only imagine the effect it had upon her Lord.  Even the thought of it gave her little pearl a twitch.  She'd not thought to taste of him as of yet but his personal fragrance, that of his manhood in particular was an intoxicating, musky, spice reminiscent of a dark red tree sap known as Dragon's Blood.  A substance often used in rites of dark magic, the scent was both ominous and alluring all at once, as was fitting for one such as he. 

    Slender arms lifted as if to wrap about the muscled thigh to which she'd been pressed like a little flower just as he released her head and stepped away, causing her stumble slightly.  For one as fluid as she, Shinguri had but to flow with the motion rather than fight it.  She let herself fall to her knees, then rolled with the momentum and was back up on the balls of her feet, tiny webbed toes gripping the marble for balance.  "Yes, Lord Master."  She replied softly, immediately skipping forward on tip toe, plump buttocks bouncing slightly as she moved to assist in her Master's wardrobe selection.

  7. Shinguri walked lightly at her Lord's side, the pale blue globes of her posterior jiggling ever slightly with each meandering step. Though her erratic path would seem she wandered never did she move so far away that he could not easily fondle her, which he did frequently much to the little Naiad's delight. Large eyes half lidded in a dreamy bliss as the sensation of shifting strands and nails raking along her scalp sent light thrills dancing down her spine.  So too did the casual caress of her sensitive ears.   Fleshy spines at the end of each tip pulsed against his fingertips and continued as he parted each to from it's sister to expose the silky membrane between.  

    Stopping more than arms distance from both Helaine and Solomon, she smiled reassuringly at the pacing kitten, green eyes glittering in the fading light. The Nymph knew just how thrilling Paris' touch could be should he will it so.  In fact, she'd been picked up in the very same fashion on many occasions, though it was not  usually on the back of a horse that he was setting her.  Still, she could only imagine what exciting chaos might be going on in the lovely kitten's mind at the moment the High Prince laid his hands about her waist.    A few steps more and gravity lost all meaning for Shinguri as well.  Hoisted high into the air, she was settled, thighs splayed, at the front of the saddle.  Her lord wedged himself in behind, his weight causing the saddle to bounce beneath them.  Immediately she squirmed her way more into his lap, firm backside nestled against the Price's lust.

    Leaning forward, she tilted her head left as the young royal arraigned her hair to his liking over her right shoulder.  Once settled, the little creature reclined against her Master, thick green lashes fluttering at the delicious sensation of his stubbled cheek against the sensitive spines of her unique ears.  The sultry tone in his rich voice had a pleasant ring to them, but there were a couple words she did not quite understand.  Friend, being one, and collection, being the other.  In any case, the unfamiliar concepts seemed to make Paris happy and so she accepted his statement with a nod.  Riding in front of him, she could not see his face, but something about the change in his speaking tone and his ominous promises that she'd get no rest and the predatory rumblings as to her ultimate punishment later in the evening to come  made the fine hairs at the base of her skull stand up.  The diminutive Naiad had no idea what it meant, but with the High Prince's rather exotic tastes it could only be something decadently creepy.  The vague, threatening nature of his statement made her eyes go wide.  Not shock, certainly.  Anticipation and dread caused her breath quickening, chest heaving her lightly as the dreamy  expression dropped away to be replaced by the most exquisite terror.

  8. Ever the quiet, reticent creature, Shinguri was more than relieved that Paris chose to answer in her stead. Instead the little water Nymph simply looked down at her feet, her expression contrite. Again delicately webbed toes curled and flexed in the rapidly drying sand, the water she'd so generously gifted the earth during her release sinking further away from her with every passing moment. Heaving a small sigh, she turned her gaze upon the gloved hand of her Lord at it seized her tiny wrist.

    The sensation of rushing water was all she felt as Paris hoisted her hand far higher than an normal arm should have stretched. Not even a hint of discomfort registered on her angelic little face. The compression her mass, on the other hand, had been utterly excruciating. Even the memory of it caused the little Naiad to shudder as her Lord wrapped strong arms around her slight torso and pulled her close. Once he'd settled her into his lap, she could not help but wiggle her well rounded posterior and legs against the thick vein that sought to divide them. A slow deep pulse beat within the apex of smooth, thick thighs bringing on a soft contralto purr that vibrated in her throat as hot, breathy words caressed folded ears, reminding her of the morning's transgression. Nibbling teeth sent a thrilling, musical tingle into her inner ear and down the curve of her neck. A tingle intensified by his ominous offer redemption.

    “Yes, Lord master.” she breathed, a dreamy smile curled purplish lips as she leaned back into Paris's possessive embrace.

    Squirming rhythmically against his obvious desire, heavy lidded eyes regarding the lovely feline, her Master's intense interest telegraphing in a vague way to his aqueous pet. She found Helaine to be beautiful,  exotic, vocal and excitable. Weary, even skittish as she paced on the opposite side of the small fire, yellow eyes intent upon both she and the imposing Royal Person that held her close. Her questions came rapid fire and flitted curiously from direct inquiry to personal ruminations. Elegance personified, her Lord Master fielded her questions and concerned with urbane aplomb, the dainty Nymph nodding her agreement at his extended invitations to the feline adventurer.

    She did however answer one query herself and not without a hint of terror around her large green eyes. “No touch...” was all she said, shrinking back against Paris' chest as if yo pull away from even the hint of contact.

  9. Released from her crystal prison, a tangle of limbs and hair tumbled across the sand and came to rest in a ball, a good deal of her water sinking into the parched earth before she could fully adsorb it back into herself. The loss of such a small amount was nothing to one such as herself. She could contain that and more. But the agony of having been compressed in upon herself for so long had made the subsequent loss of volume actually helped her more fully decompress and recover some modicum of composure. Long, dark green hair flowed out around her slight form, standing in contrast to the pale blue form that lay curled and sobbing with relief. The head of the little Naiad lifted slowly, ears down and laid against the curve of her head, submissively. The full purplish swell of her lower lip trembled ever so slightly. large eyes holding a healthy edge of rear as they fixed upon Paris's face. Slowly she nodded her understanding, cherubic face somber.

    Webbed fingers curled slightly in the mud, reveling for just the barest moment in a familiar sensation, before pushing herself into a kneeling position, Smears and patched mud marred her smooth skin while her long hair clumped together and hung in thick tendril about the small figure like seaweed clinging to rocks exposed by a low tide. Unclad she stood, not bothering to shake the earth from her child-like figure. Nor did she make any move to smooth back her tangled mass of hair. Instead, all moisture on face, body and limbs absorbed into her skin, the muck falling away from her uniquely textured epidermis as if it had never been. From her scalp exuded a mass of water that crawled down her head from front to back, gathering the locks of her hair in it's rippling waves and sweeping them away from her face. The snarled mass was smoothed into a shimmering green river that flowed down the curve of her generous back side, grooming water sinking into the pale blue cheeks as she climbed to her feet.

    Finally recovered and apparently unconcerned by her nudity, little webbed toes curled and uncurled in the mud as Shinguri turned to gaze upon the strange creature. The grumbling feline hybrid was like nothing that the water nymph had even seen. Fascinated, the little Naiad smiled a sweet little girl smile, eyes of peridot glittering in the dimming light.

    “Shinguri.” She said, her piping voice soft and musical as she placed one web fingered hand upon the flat of her chest and inclined her head slightly before tucking both small hands behind her back.

  10. Confused as to what exactly had taken place, Shinguri stared at her Lord Master as she subtly shrank from Paris' quiet fury.  Yes, She would do her best to learn the High Prince's likes and dislikes. Already her fear of the beautiful man was quite palpable. In no way was it like the fear she felt in the presence of ChoSun Wex. The tall Magus was infinitely cruel to be sure. His soul shredding ring and his lack of remorse for the creation thereof was proof of that. He was predictable in that cruelty. Yes, he did make use of soothing words and lulling cadence, but his vicious actions as well as his enjoyment of them had immediately established that those words were complete lies.

    There were no deceptive tender moments with Wex. Nothing to make one believe that the worst that that human kind could do to her was over. Not so with her new Lord. He meant every word he said to her. From his declarations of adoration and praise, to his not so subtle threats of brutal bodily harm. The frightened little creature nodded her head. Her promise to pay attention and continue to learn quickly. No. The captive elemental was no fool. Though she was naive in the ways of the world, unschooled in the subtleties of the humanoid languages as well as unused to human interaction on a more mature level.

    Rather than cool the fire between her legs, his muted ire just seemed to pour fuel on it, the stiff little bud there once again pulsing with the heart's rhythm.   The subtle shift and slide of the sculpted appendages upon which Shinguri sat gave little warning as the Prince's hand found it's way between her thighs once more.  The petite Naiad sighed and moaned softly as thick digits titillated sensitive folds, her slender form, euphorically animated for a moment. 

    Then it was over, her chest heaved lightly, the excitement of the moment further spoiling her Lord's costume, soaking through the thin silk.  Those very fingers seemed to make note of the fact that her excess of enjoyment left the embossed image of his thick sex against the muscled thigh upon which Shinguri sat.  Again the little Nymph watched in bemused confusion as the Prince's fingers trailed thick glistening juices down one trembling leg, the slick liquid sinking ever so slowly into pale blue skin.   

    "It looks like you made something of a mess."

    She gasped softly then froze, an unfamiliar heat suddenly burning behind her eyes. Had she done something wrong?

    "Now have to go change."

    A soft shuddering breath shivered her small frame as Paris' large hands gripped her hips, pressing her wetness down against the distinctly uneven planes of his lap as he slid her from her seat.  Set upon her feet, she listened to Paris' bored tone as he spoke of showing her the 'grounds'.  That bored tone dropped completely dropped away at his mention of where she would be sleeping, though she could not begin to fathom why.  Shinguri had not slept since her capture nor was sleep truly necessary for one such as she.  However she had been allowed rest, being able to relax at least partially with the semi return to her natural form while being held in her bowl.

    "But first..."

     Peridot eyes widened her expression somewhat alarmed at the sound of rending fabric.

    "Lets do something about this mess some might call hair."

    Fear of what he might do with that torn bit of fabric was quicky set aside as the Prince turned her by the shoulders and bound her long tresses behind her head in a neat little package. Manicured hands  then moved from their completed task to wander rapaciously over the tiny Nymph's figure, lingering a bit on the curves of her generous lower portions before turning her back around for inspection, his facial expression one of infatuation.

    Shinguri smiled at his praise, relieved that he seemed pleased with her.  Thick lashed drew pale blue lids half over her eyes,  the smooth skin of her angelic face tinging deliciously at his slightest caress.   Bemused by both his touch and the sweetness of his words, it took a second for her to realize that he'd risen suddenly and was moving down the dais. With a slight squeak of alarmed haste she padded quickly after her Master.  Meandering steps sounded like the soft splashing of a childs foot in a summer rain puddle as she trailed after.

    The crowd made way for their High Prince and his newest pet, chatter following in their wake.  The little elemental's eyes were everywhere, taking in the sights and sounds around her.  Delicately webbed fingers curiously grazed any person, fabric or surface that came within reach, sampling new textures with childlike delight.  However, her inquisitive nature led to some slight dawdling, which in turn forced the small creature to hasten her step from time to time just to keep up with Paris' long strides.

  11. Bouncing lightly, upon her Lion Lord's thigh, Shinguri's squeals of delight sounded far more indecent than they should have in a public place. However, the little water Nymph remained unconcerned, her limited understanding of such human constructs as 'shame' quite beyond her elemental comprehension. Instead, she thoroughly enjoyed every titillating impact between muscled thigh and thinly covered mound without inhibition, her obvious gratification dampening the leg beneath with a total lack of concern for the finery thereon.  Much to her disappointment, the ride was a short one.  The full swell of her lower lip protruded slightly in a bit of a pout.  Nevertheless, she paid full attention to the words of her Lord master as he lay his chin upon the curve of her shoulder. The long green plate of hair that hung down her back bounced and swayed, the little spiral antlers at the top of her mask bobbing forward and back as she acknowledged both that she saw the person indicated and that she did in fact remember Paris's instruction on accent and inflection in respect to a person's origin. 

    "Yes, Lord Master.  I will."  The little 'Antelope' promised, glancing back over her shoulder before being set back onto her hoof painted feet.  Peridot eyes shifted from her Lord Master to one who appeared to be an old priest as he spoke in the language of hands.  The elderly man's hands did not move like those of an aged human, but she smiled at his greeting and favored him with a sweet little "Hello" in return.   Previously fumbling fingers flickered with graceful precision. Each gesture denoted a solicitous even friendly nature despite the obvious tension with which he spoke.  Shinguri nodded her head in acknowledgement of the day's lesson then quickly added, "The lord Master is very kind, taking the time to teach me."  

    Sadly, even watching as closely as she was the little Nymph could not tell the old man's country of origin; this being her first trip outside if Lorean since coming to the world of humans.  Nor had she much in the way of interaction with any but the Royal family and the few members of the court that her jealous lord would allow near his precious jewel. To be sure, the High Prince had pointed out specific details about this dignitary or that and patiently explained why those details were important.  But still...  Not being as well traveled as some and certainly not as well versed in conversing with strangers, she'd nothing personal with which to compare. 

    There were certain things that the perceptive little creature did note, however.  Panic.  Fear.  The desire to be away from this diabolical Royal and his painted little captive. One such detail that she immediately picked out was how similar the lilt of the old priests gestures was to the Lorean Princess.  As well as to that of every other woman who had reason to speak with said Princess in the Nymph and her Lord's presence.  It had nothing to do with accent or region of origin.  In fact there were not many that would have even seen it.  However, being of a more ethereal nature, Shinguri saw it plainly.  Much as he tried to hide it, there was something decidedly feminine in the fine micro movements of his hands.  

    Paris had once told her, 'In this world of magic your eyes can and will lie to you'.  Yet Shinguri was magic.  Trapped.  Contained.  But elemental magic all the same.  And while she could not see through the glamor that the aged Priest wove about himself, his every gesture whispered it's existence.  Like everyone else at the Festival, the old man was himself, wearing a mask.  Confirmation came in the form of a mistake.  The simple misuse of a feminine versus masculine sign.  Wide eyes blinked behind her mask, her head cocking to one side as the elder 'man' claimed stupidity before she could answer his question.  "Not stupid..."  She assured him, not going so far as to call her out in public.  "Mistake."  She reached out a reassuring hand, tiny webbed fingers snatching back at the last moment to tuck quickly behind her back.  "No."  She admitted softly, eyes downcast.  "I can not tell."

    Turning her face toward her Lord, she would watch his translation of the previous dialogue carefully. Surely he would notice something was amiss. In any case, the Prince's Water Lily, in her desire to not inconvenience the old man further, chose to wait until they were away to reveal the priests truth to him.

    @King @Wanderlost


  12. Shinguri did see it. No, she felt it. The fault had been with her instructors. How could supposedly leaned men have missed so simple a concept? The song of the violin permeated her entire being. Within that song, she could feel a distinct beat though it had not made itself audibly known as yet. Much like blood rushing through veins, it lay quiet, felt rather than heard. Yes she could feel it deep within the apex, each slow, rocking rotation of her rounded posterior telegraphing that pulse directly to the Prince's lust beneath.

    Strong fingers curled and clutched at the flesh of her hips, in time with both the motion of her body and the throbbing beat of the music, holding her tight against his lap. Thrilling shocks surged from those grasping hands, along her supple skin and sank in deep, continuously stirring that curious spot between her thighs. So too did the gyrations of the little Nymphs plump little bottom against the palpitating proof of the Lord Master's approval.

    Orchestral accompaniment surged with new life, the other instruments rushing to join with the longing notes of the violin like a rising swell in the deep water. Shinguri rose with it in a dramatic body wave, the pulsating tingle in her groin coursing up her spine. The little Nymph's rump rotated hard in the bowl of Paris's lap, her back arching in an upward roll as she leaned back against the Prince's chest.

    It seemed that he danced with her, strong hands following the rolling momentum of her hips, and holding her firmly against the tumescent perch upon which she gyrated.  "I feel it..." Her whisper was clearly audible over soft, almost melodic breaths.  A strong pulse from below sent an intensely thrilling jolt to the tiny Nymph's very core.  Plump lips dropped open, her breathy gasp audible above the nearby din as a sudden euphoria washed over the enthralled water spirit made flesh, leaving the silk of the Master's breeches stained.

    A tilt of her head opened course as the deceptively tender nuzzle of his cheek tussled long hair aside. The fine strands at the nape of her neck raised as hot breath, then lips and teeth joined the symphony, singing enticingly into the folded ear tucked into the tresses above.  Body in continuous rolling, grinding motion, one willowy arm lifted above and behind her head, delicately webbed digits. Lightly caressed the line of his jaw.  It's twin lay with his, her fingers curling along the hand that held so tight against him.

    "Don't stop..."  She echoed, the deep swell within building once more even as the symphony built to crescendo. So caught up was she, that the little water Nymph did not even notice the approach of the stately woman in regal attire.  All was ignored save her Lord Master, and the stirring melody of the orchestra.  She concentrated oh the music and the way that it encouraged her body to move. On the rhythm. The pulse of the symphony matched so perfectly with her own and that strong beat that thrummed her most sensitive of spots from below.

    Paris's growling voice in her ears was what turned her head. Initially because the sound of his feral snarl vibrated pleasantly, deep in her ear, pounding like the rushing water in her veins.  The baritone purr that caressed her ear with heated breath provided a titillating stimulation that only encouraged a firmer rotation of the little Nymphs already strongly gyrating hips.  Pouting lips parted, a heavy sigh escaping as Shinguri's eyes opened to behold the queen.  

    A disdainful gaze greeted the passion clouded, regard of the little water Nymph. Something about that gaze bade her stop. Demanded obedience. For a few seconds, she froze.  The spell of the beautiful music seemed broken as well.  The throbbing notes did not seem to seize hold of her very being as it had before and the fiery pulse that burned within her precious little pearl began recede but did not go away entirely.   She reclined, trembling against Paris's torso, hips shifting ever so slightly and only now as then her Lord Master displayed her pretty little face to the woman he called Mother.  The conversation between the Queen and her son baffled the diminutive spirit as well.  Shinguri did not understand the word, 'debase' nor the veiled contempt that the Queen seemed to be projecting toward Paris.  The subtleties of human relationships still confused her, having never known a mother, nor siblings or even a friend and so she had nothing with which to make comparison.  She blinked in confusion as Paris suddenly released his hold on her cheeks.  The sense within her was that something was wrong.  While she could not identify what that something might be, she was able to surmise that it had to do with her. 

    A sudden cruel digging of strong fingertips into the soft flesh at her hip set her to writhing once more and brought a series of whimpering squeaks from her lips that continued as the High Prince muttered under his breath.   Only when his grip lessened did she collapse trembling against his torso, her eyes frightened and focused upon the flying sparks that danced off the polished steel throne.


    "Your first rule... I am your lord and master; your beginning and end. Never will you speak to me in a manner even remotely similar to that which you just witnessed... Do you understand."


    Large eyes wide, she sucked the lower swell of her lip between her teeth as she has seen children do so often when hurt or scared, and nodded her head vigorously.  "Yes Lord Master."  She replied in a small quivering voice.   Shinguri barely spoke as it was.  Unfamiliarity with the humanoid languages made her a quiet little entity to begin with.  Fear would likely keep it that way for a good while longer.  "I understand."

  13. Shifting her position again, Shinguri sat up a bit, her bottom and thighs pressing firm on her Master's lap as she leaned forward to follow his pointing finger. The first was the dead bride to whom the Prince had been speaking only moments before. The second had a youthful air about her painted visage that the other did not. Looking back over her shoulder, she nodded, her gaze turning back to the women in question as Paris patiently explained the way of things to his new pet. Cocking her head in confusion, she again glanced back over her shoulder at the High Prince. The little Nymph was not understanding the words 'married off'. 'Given', however, she did understand. She herself had been 'given'. She did not understand what 'a high price' was. But she knew that it was something that men greatly desired.

    “No.” How could she know why? Yet she was certain that he would tell her.

    Long fingers gripped her thigh sending a warm, tingling pulse up the captured limb to settle in those most hidden folds. Shinguri squirmed, buttocks shifting side to side in her growing agitation. Then again... Eyes wide, she pressed her thighs together tightly in an attempt to stop the fluttering sensation between them. A sharp, audible gasp parted soft lips and held them open in sensual repose as the warmth of his hand engulfed the cool smooth skin of her sex. It was too much, she could not concentrate. In fact, only parts of what he said even registered as he rolled his fingers between suddenly moist folds.

    “...The truest of all prizes. Especially when untouched...”

    The helpless little water Nymph writhed in languid display under Paris' manipulations, unable to contain herself. There was no pretense, nor any attempt to hide the erotic squirming in her Master's lap. Shinguri knew no shame and so she displayed none.

    “...We take pleasure in claiming, not scavenging; in living, not existing; in conquering, not reasoning...”

    Slow, sighing breaths heaved her slender chest and hung heavy in the air while tiny hands gripped the arms of the royal throne for balance.

    “...It is their virginity I am selling, their purity, absurd though the concept may seem to you, just as it was your virginity that cost me so greatly...”

    By the parting squeeze, she was more than a little wet and trembling against his torso, eyes fixed uncomprehending on the glistening trail left by those most devious digits.

    “If a man is to plow, he seeks land that is rich, fertile, unspoiled, and most importantly, unworked by previous hands. Mm, yes, I would say that the power of a virgin cunt is peerless in this strange world of man, little spirit—never forget that.”

    Shinguri nodded her head quickly, her body limp in his lap for a brief moment while she recovered her composure. Though she still couldn't quite grasp the true meaning of some of the things he said, she understood the basic gist behind the lesson. Possession, influence and power. The Prince's momentary musing gave her the opportunity to catch a breath and recall her water, though the slick substance that streaked her leg and sat heavy between her thighs didn't exactly feel like water. Baffled, she shivered as the thicker fluid absorbed slowly into her skin.

    The sound of negative words coming from Paris' mouth startled the little Nymph and turned her sharply in his lap so that she might look more directly at his face. Yet there was no hint of anger. She nodded immediately. Of course she was a water Nymph. She was water and water, she. Again, she nodded, She could see them. And he made an excellent point. One that she could comprehend quite easily.

    Strong hands grasped the swell of her hips and pulled her tight against his lap, his excitement pressed firmly between the fine cleft in her rounded posterior and causing a stir within her once more. “Now, listen to the music.” He bade softly. “Let it weave in and around and through you; feel it—in your arms, your legs, your fingers, your toes. Let it move you just as the planet moves the rivers.”

    Water was both melody and motion dictated only by the shapes of the earth from whence it sprang. Thick lashes lay against her cheeks as she listened to the music unhindered by site. No cruel instructors haranguing her to understand notes and timing, beats and measures. Only the Master's smooth, rich voice and the sweet sound of the violin. It was the rush of the river as it tumbled over rapids, or it's tributaries on their winding, dancing paths through valleys and meadows. The song of the birds as they bathed in shallow pools. The chirp of crickets and frogs during their nightly serenade. She could feel it in the longing notes that filled the air, wrapping around the little Nymph in lush invitation. Slowly, her little body began to sway and roll and gyrate rhythmically upon the princes passion with naught but silk between them.

  14. Much taken with the activity of the crowd and the music that played on the other side of the courtyard, Shinguri danced and frolicked about in her meandering way. Her enthusiasm combined with the exquisitely fashioned mask and masterful skin paint made her appear every inch the playful yearling carcass come to life, springing and twirling through the milling revelers as if they were a sea of tall plains grass waving in an afternoon breeze.

    Millions of things drew her attention.  Merchants called from their booths, offering trinkets of remembrance.   Birds on a nearby rooftop called for attention, then a butterfly flirted with the well groomed floral accents set out for the festival. And the people in their painted masks and decadent costumes. They were a wonder as well, as she flitted past.  Animated masks came to life upon the face of the wearer then settled back to the beautifully painted facades as they spoke small talk, of business dealings (shady or otherwise), and of the day's affair.   Sometimes, she'd stop to listen to their chattering speech before moving on. Because her attention was divided, she often did not pay it to where she was going. Whether due to her own flighty thoughtlessness or by more sinister design, more than once she'd had to stop short of bumping into a random person. On such occasions she would usually smile a beautiful smile of apology, swirl quickly around them and out of reach to continue unhindered on her path.

    “Water Lily.”

    The small 'antelope' skidded to a stop, her head swiveling around as wide eyes sought the masked face of her Lion Lord.

    “That's twenty-four, darling. Mind your step, you understand?”

    Shinguri smiled and nodded, watching for signs of his displeasure before springing off again, though this time moving closer rather than further away. 



  15. She stared out at milling the crowd, angelic features fixed and unconcerned. It mattered not at all that the Royal Court gawked, expressions ranging from shock to open appreciation playing over their painted faces.   The little water spirit did not know enough of human etiquette to experience any shame.   Instead Shinguri basked in the proximity of the little blue jewel, so close that she could turn and pluck it from the masters picket were she quick enough.  However, she did not. A healthy dose of fear stayed her hand. 

    In her mind's eye, small electric charges once again crackled along his finger tips in a not so veiled threat of grievous bodily harm.  Though not the soul wracking agony of the ring's power, electricity held a different quality of pain.  Where the power of the ring affected her spiritually, electricity would hurt her physically.  An ethereal Being in her natural state, spiritual awareness was the norm and physical form the exception.  Now trapped in the physical, the accompanying sensations, whether pleasure or pain, were unfamiliar and often more than she could handle. Something that her instructors in the House of Dolls had never come to understand.

    Thoughts of that cursed ring suddenly dropped away and thick lashes dropped slightly as long fingers ran through the slick textured strands of dark emerald.  A pleasant sensation in the ordinary to be sure.  To Shinguri however the accompanying tingling sensation that ran across her scalp brought on a skin tightening euphoria.  So too did the sensual stroking of her plump little thigh titillate the innocent little creature.

    The soft spines of her ears folded down and fluttered, burying themselves in her hair to curl back against her head.  The nudge of a strong arm shifted Shinguri slightly to one side so that her Master could gaze down upon her while he spoke.  In the slightly new position, a deepening of sanguine moonlight enriched the brilliant lavender cast of her skin. Shifting her bottom in the bowl of her Prince's lap, the little Nymph did her best to pay attention.  Looking up at His half painted face, she could not begin to comprehend the complicated play of possession, and debauched lust in His eyes.  Instead she focused on His questions.   It was not an easy task when he grabbed her thigh the way he did.  Drumming, squeezing fingers moved up, sending a decided thrill to that hidden place between her thighs that was both terrifying and delightful. 

    "Yes."  Eyes wide, Shinguri nodded her head in agreement; her kind were indeed elusive.  Rarely seen and harder still to catch.  Without the interference of corrupted magics, the ethereal nature of the elemental creature would have allowed her or any of her kin to quickly shift from a physical form to natural in order to escape detection and capture.  "Of this world, I know little."  She admitted, looking out at the crowd for a moment.  "Only cruelty and pain until now."   Again she shifted her buttocks, this time in effort to ease a growing discomfort.   "They tried to teach me things...  How to dance and to sing and..."  She looked away, unsure of how he might take her previous disobedience.  "I was a poor student." 

    The little Nymph did not lie, but she also did not mention the open hostility and outright defiance she displayed in the face of her own frustration.  Even with the threat of torture by use of the Ring, she had a hard time understanding their descriptions and explanations.   Even grasping such mortal concepts as entertainment and 'service' was beyond her at the moment. She knew the joy of the Pool, the beauty of the aquatic flora, the happiness of swimming, jumping village children...  This was all so new.  

    "They told me nothing of this place..."  By the Prince's use of the word 'realm' she, in her limited understanding, gathered that he meant the place in which they now sat.  How could she know he meant so much more?   "Save that I must be undamaged upon delivery.  I do not know what they meant.  And then they locked me in darkness."

  16. Unmindful of the effect her gruesome costume had upon others in the crowd, Shinguri continued her enthusiastic meandering. Whether at Paris' side or in his wake, never did she stray by more than a few feet. Even without the ring to compel her, she minded her behavior, immediately returning to his side whenever he gave even the slightest indication no matter how fascinating she found the human interactions. So to did she submit to his possessive foundlings, trembling with something akin to terrified bliss. The little water Nymph had learned quite quickly that the Lord Master could be kind beyond measure when he was well pleased with his little pet. However, any transgression was punished with a severity that instilled in her the deep seated desire to always please him, no matter what he might do or demand. Ring in hand or not.

    The merest wave of a gloved hand brought Shinguri to a halt as the luridly painted and masked Lion Prince once again knelt before his intended prey. Even the discomfort of the silver clip could not dull the alluringly soft tingling that danced along the sensitive triple points of Shinguri's ear. Ever so slightly, she tilted her head slightly away, chin to dropping a bit so that the silver clipped appendage was more open to the Lord Master's touch. Beneath the antelope mask and supple paint, her angelic face took on a dreamy expression as she gazed up at him.

    “I remember.” Shinguri assured him that she did indeed remember the city with it's magnificent spires and spans. Large eyes shifted from his face to cast a glance Northward then back again. “Umbra...” The word rolled like thunder in her ears, even from her own mouth. It sounded warm and red like the hearth fire in Paris' bedchamber in the wee hours of the night.

    The little water Nymph understood most of what he was telling her, but there were a couple of concepts that seemed to escape her grasp. He'd hoped to see someone very important here, but did not expect to due to something called Tethering. The term brought to mind the very signet that was her control and her unpleasant essence-link to it. Yet the Lord Master seemed quite taken with the idea, calling it an 'enchanting tale of love'... Whatever that was. Shinguri smiled in response to Paris' almost wistful musing, her eyes dropping closed as his caress went from casual to intimate. In truth, she knew nothing of tales as she had never heard any that she could recall, nor was she familiar with notion of love. Only affection, desire, need, want, sadness and fear made immediate sense to the elemental little creature. Other, more complicated concepts had yet to be learned.

    On their way once more, the little water spirit suddenly caught site of the large fountain in the very center of the courtyard. However it was not the fountain itself that drew her attention. Water, sparkling in the sun rose up from it's highest point only to splash and tumble down several tiers to pool in a round trough of smooth white stone. Much to her delight, a casual seeming touch upon her shoulder bade her follow her Lord Master in that very direction. Barely able to contain her joy, she started to spring ahead, however she caught herself at the last minuet. It was not her place to walk in front; her place was beside, or behind unless placed so by his hand. Dropping back she continued, her winding path taking on an almost choreographed dance like quality.

    To her momentary disappointment, Prince Paris stopped and seated himself upon an already occupied bench in front of the fountain. Having never encountered a blind person, Shinguri did not know him as such nor was it her concern. All that mattered was that the Master wished to converse with him. She moved to Paris' lap as was the norm, but he waved her away, releasing her to wander a bit, much to her delight. Not far of course. Twenty-five paces. No more. Not that he had to worry, for the little water Nymph would not go far. Plump bow-like lip curled into a pleased smile as she nodded understanding and scampered away.

    Circling around the back of the fountain, she stopped at the edge of the trough, to stare, entranced at the seemingly free flowing water. Looking every inch the yearling antelope standing at a watering hole. Bending slightly, she dipped a loving hand into the cool water. It clung to her fingers and sang to her a sad song of captivity. It was not free flowing. Beautiful as it was sparkling in the sunlight, it was continuously contained and forced upward though the stone by mechanical means. The only joy was the joy of shooting high into the sky and the brief freedom of tumbling unhindered over stone. How she wanted to offer comfort; to sport and dance with her elemental kin in it's confines if for only a moment. Suddenly an alarming thought entered her mind. 'The Lord Master would not be happy at all if she spoiled her costume. With a visible flinch, she withdrew her hand, a shiver running down her spine at thoughts of the Master's displeasure. The water left clinging to her hand gratefully sank through the enchanted paint and absorbed into her being. It was the only form of comfort she could give, for she was not free flowing either.

    Heaving a sad little sigh, Shinguri turned away and trickled her way through the crowd around the fountain, careful to keep her master in site until such time as he should call her back.


    @King.    @Art in Music

  17. Beside the tall, richly costumed Paris, the Water Nymph valiantly kept pace with the much larger man's long strides. Of course the fact that she wore no shoes and found it almost impossible to walk in a straight line affected her speed. She was a somewhat flighty creature and did tended to meander in odd rivulet like path as water was want to do. Frequently, she found herself lagging behind. However, upon noticing that she was any more than a few meters from Paris' side and she would sprint ahead joyously to catch up. Yet even struggling to match speed, she was fascinated by all the, music, costumes and decoration.

      Casting inquisitive glances to and fro, Shinguri was completely beguiled by the sights and sounds of the festivities of which she and her Lord Master were to take part. In fact it struck her as being much like the evening's entertainments that had been in full swing when she had come into the Prince's possession. Colors, music and humans galore, though that event had been inside the castle proper and this... Was largely under open sky. Since her initial capture and internment in the House of Dolls, she'd not been allowed outside at all before her life in Lorean began and not much after with the exception of the marvelous enclosed gardens of the Palace.

    So caught up was she in the gaiety that she almost bumped into her Lord when he stopped to speak to her. Glittering green eyes immediately rose to meet his, keeping careful focus on the handsome face of her Lord Master  from behind an exquisitely wrought half mask as he spoke. Ever the quiet little creature, Shinguri nodded her acquiescence, her expression serious, though hidden save for her plump little lips. Paris would know.

    Her costume had been selected to match his. An Antelope, to be precise.  Made to her small measure, the mask fit her perfectly, the fastening cords woven into her hair. The dainty little black nose looked wet and settled comfortably over her own.  Black contour lines rose from the nose to eye holes cut to the exact shape of her own and framed in long black lashes.  At each outer corner was fashioned a soft looking ear, leaf shaped and looking for all the world as it it might flick as Antelope ears often do on the plains. Above the outside corner of the eye holes were set small twin spires, tapered and twisted, reaching skyward about 4 inches. She wore a light, sleeveless tunic in creamy brown hue, that fell to just below bottom. It's rear hem had been fashioned into an ingenious little wedge tail that would lift and flicker side to side over white ruffled panties were she to bend forward even a little. The lower right portion of her cherubic face, neck arm and both legs were masterfully painted to resemble the browns, tans and whites of perfectly rendered Antelope fur so perfect in fact it looked as it it might stir on the breeze. But the left... Shinguri's left cheek, throat and upper arm were painted a mangled mess of torn flesh, exposed tendon and bone with a gruesomely brilliant attention to detail. And all done with an enchanted paint that adhered nicely to even the little Nymph's unusual skin.

    “I remember, Lord Master.” she said softly, her head dipping forward in something resembling a bow. The rules were always to be remembered and her compliance to them was vital. “Best behavior.”

    Elaborately plaited and pinned hair hung in a dark green silken rope that bobbed and swayed across her back as she shook her head to the Master's final admonition. She did not wish to be left in her cage to miss being at her beautiful master's side during such a wonderful spectacle as this.


  18. Forward fanned ears finally relaxed and dropped back against the green satin of her hair. Never had she heard her name spoken in such a manner. The languidly seductive rolling of the r in her name held a rapacious warmth. To the little water Nymph, it sounded soothing, even reassuring after so much viciousness. Closing her eyes once more, she bowed her head and savored the sound, letting it's waves ripple over her corporeal form in tandem with the gentle stroking of her arm and holding of her tiny hand. As for the Prince's name, she did not speak it herself, nor did she say aloud the title, Lord Master. A naturally quiet creature, she simply met his eyes and nodded.

    Unconsciously, her line of site dropped once more to linger again on his pocket and the jewel therein. Every particle of her very being pined it's return. Desperately she wanted to be able to spring forth, wrest it from it's cloth enclosure and flee to the safety and freedom of the nearest water source. Before the thought even exited her mind, Paris's finger guided her gaze back to his disquietingly masked visage, his half hidden smile and 'reassurance' a devastatingly beautiful quashing of her ultimate desire. Shinguri understood well what Paris was telling her and did not dare follow his hand as he patted the coveted treasure.

    One thing was certain, she did indeed belong to Paris now. His possession of the ring assured that. However, his solicitous fondling of her flawless blue skin seemed to have a calming if not beguiling effect. Again she froze, ears half flared in feral display, the brutal truth of her present situation hanging in the air as Paris ran long fingers through green, satin textured strands, pulling a few of the clinging tendrils away so that he might better view his precious pet.

    It was true. Paris could indeed be gentle. Even now his caresses soothed the little water Nymph. That changed immediately as crackling electricity danced across the Lord Master's fingertips. Thick, dark lashes widened apprehensively, her expression on of recollection. Shinguri's pond had been struck by lightning in the past. She knew how unsettling an experience would be even to one such as she. Still... Even after promises of bodily harm, her most generous Master eased that sting with an offer of hope; Obtaining her hearts desire. All she had to do was obey.

    Negotiations were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a tall, graceful woman, painted and richly costumed as was the High Prince. Had she understood the significance of familial ties, the Nymph might have been able to point out a resemblance between them, but as it stood, she did not. Such concepts were lost upon the little elemental. Shinguri knew that the handsome pair spoke of her but she cared little about what was being said. Instead, she chewed her pouting lower lip and considered Paris's offer. Complete, unquestioning compliance in exchange for the hope of regaining that cruelly pilfered portion of her essence. In truth the Lord Master seemed to be a kind and gentle soul. What had she already endured at the hands of her captors thus far? Ripped from her home pond, vivisected, endlessly harangued with demands to learn alien arts and tortured well beyond the endurance when she stubbornly refused. With such a kind soul as her master, how difficult could it be, really?

    A warm touch against the smooth skin of her neck called her attention back to the Master. Glittering green eyes again returned to his half masked face. In that moment he combed curled digits through the hair that fell against the nape of her neck, exposing fully half of her petite figure as silken strands slipping through long fingers to fall like water down the curve of her back side.


    “Shinguri is exactly as she should be.”


    The little water spirit managed a sweet if sad smile at Paris' assurances even though they were not directed at her. In her mind, a more untrue statement could not have been uttered and she could not entirely hide it. However, such was her existence and until fate proved otherwise she would simply have to find a way to survive. Perhaps, even thrive. When the Prince posed his question again, she was ready to answer.


    Casting her gaze to the floor in surrender, Shinguri took momentary comfort in the tingling warmth of his large hand against her skin, then slowly nodded her head in full acceptance of her fate. “I shall choose affection... Lord Master.”



  19. ChoSun Wex was nothing if not quick on the uptake. The High Prince's assurances silenced the silk robed mage instantly with the merest incline of his head. Surely one as knowledgeable as Paris would understand that though the little water Nymph might look the part of a helpless child, she would be quite deadly were she to ever escape his control. Simple possession of the ring would stop all forms of transformation and most forms of aggression. Would he be able to put the ring on his finger in time should she become truly unruly? Or worse still. Should she ever regain possession of the jewel affixed thereon... He left that thought hanging, a passive smile on his lightly curling his lips as he watched the Prince approach his prize. It was not his concern. He satisfied himself with the thought. Nor could any blame be placed at the feet of the council should something go amiss.

    As for the little water Nymph, she stood frozen in place, the terrible sting of the mage's cruel ring still causing her to tremble ever so slightly. Eyes wide, she continued to stare at the floor, triple tipped ears fanned out and up in a display of general alarm. She felt rather than saw the ring pass from one to the next, that little bit of her very essence, vivisected, solidified, polished and set into an ornament of torture. In the peripheral of her vision she could see the the tall human approach, could feel the jewel draw closer to source as well as the constricting spell woven gold in which it was trapped.

    “Look at me.”

    A strong hand cupped the underside of her chin and softly demanded her attention. While her chin did indeed lift with his hand, her eyes lingered for a quarter of a second on the pocket in which she could feel the ring before rising to meet those of her new Master.

    “Yes, that’s much better. Let me see you by the light.”

    The grip on her chin caused pouting lips to purse even more, her angelic face taking on the saddest of expressions as she gazed up onto the princes surprisingly handsome face.

    “I would like to make a deal with you, water spirit, but first I must know your name. Tell me, won’t you?”

    To Wex's credit he did clamp his mouth shut as soon as the High Prince began his admonition. He simple smiled, bowed deeply and said. “Of course” at it's conclusion. Backing away, he did not turn his back until he was back at the head of the ornate carriage. Crisp orders set the team of slaves in motion, their efforts pulling the magnificent floral cage to a position against the far wall for all to behold. The Steward rushed ahead to make arrangements for the Mage's comfort As for the mage himself, he did exactly as he'd been bid do. With the wickedest of smirks, he melted into the mingling crowd to dive right in. Loreanian entertainments and proclivities were known far and wide and since he'd already been paid handsomely for his work, ChoSun Wex was set to enjoy the hospitality of his host to the fullest.

    The captive little creature found her new Master's face suddenly hovering above hers as he knelt before her, presumably to get a better look at his new pet. Manicured fingertips brushed against the soft blue skin of her face, moving aside the concealing strands of clinging hair to reveal more of her lovely little face and form. The sensation had an almost musical quality, the vibrations of so simple an act settling in her inner ear like a lullaby. Thick lashes grew heavy and dropped blue over green as his knuckle ghosted in a gentle, caressing line down cheek, neck and arm.


    “Your name, little spirit.... I shall have it now.”


    Little did Paris know, but that simple gesture had been the first moment of tenderness that the little Nymph would experience since her capture. ChoSun Wex was not a kind man, nor had the those at the House of Dolls been any better. Her time there, however brief, had not been pleasant. Indeed her masters had been exceedingly cruel. Unable to get maximum usage from their exotic acquisition until a buyer could be found and conditions set, they seemed to take every opportunity to punish the little spirit. Anything to watch her writhe and scream in her bowl.

    It was true that a little kindness could go a long way, and so it was in this case. She trembled visibly under his benevolent caress, the moment forever cherished. “My name is Shinguri.” She replied, her piping voice, low, soft and melodic if hesitant, liquid peridot eyes slowly opening to gaze into the depths of her masters soul.

  20. The trip had been an abnormally long one, the road to Lorean slow going at best. The blight had wreaked havoc and the resultant chaos had led to some roads being in a state of disrepair. Brigands and ruffians roamed the byways and threatened the very lives of travelers who, by necessity, had to travel through outlying regions. More than once the company had been harried through various blind mountain passes by bandits who continually sought ways to circumvent their magical protections and claim the unknown prize they carried. However, the House of Dolls had taken great care in selecting their emissary. ChoSun Wex had successfully obtained and delivered undamaged goods to many a client on behalf of both the House of Dolls as well as the Council itself. Even under conditions that would have proven more than a little difficult for other, more conventional delivery services. In fact, the prize he now delivered had been one of his own acquisitions. Seeing to the final delivery himself only made the pay out bigger.

    Tall and draped in back silk robes, the hooded figure of ChoSun Wex led the procession of slaves who had been hitched to pull the exquisite little carriage on it's soft rubber wheels through the rainbow halls. Along the way, couriers stopped to gawk. Some even followed to see what wonders might be locked inside. The Blood Room had been their ultimate destination, the crowd parting in a line to let the slave drawn carriage pass to the six thrones situated at the far end. At long last the procession came to a stop before the largest of six thrones at the end of the room. The Carriage itself was a mechanical wonder designed by the mage himself. A a gigantic flower bud nestled in the center of a broad pad, the tips of each dark green encasing petal curled in an aborted spiral. Both teardrop bud and flat pad seemed alive, glistening as if kissed with dew and eerily illuminated, almost glowing in the red tinged light.

    Three raps from the butt of the Stewards staff were followed by Wex's full name and current Title: Emissary from the House of Dolls. The tall figure stepped forward, pushing the hood back from his face as was only proper when bowing to a prince. Smooth, pale skin and a tousled mop of dark hair accentuated the deceptively youthful features of his handsome, even pretty face. Black irises lowered to the floor as he bowed before the costumed Paris, then rose again to meet the High Prince's eyes, his gaze steady. He was late. It was a fact. It was also fact that there was no help for it, and so no apologies were made. Instead, the Mage simple brushed past it and went on as if precisely on schedule.

    “My Lord.” He intoned, his voice rich and melodic. “It is my privilege to present to you that most precious jewel promised to you by the Council. Exotic, beautiful and unique.”

    At a word from the mages lips the semi magical mechanism wound into motion. The air filled with the tinkling, metallic, waterfall like tune one might hear coming from a young girls music box. The magnificent bud began to turn on it's pad, the dark green casing petals opening slowly, and lay slightly cupped on the pad, their curling tips falling over the outer edge like small vines. Inside, were two concentric rows of inwardly curved, oblong petals, each pointed at its tips. There were 6 petals in each row, all delicately wrought and enameled in opalescent pinks and whites. Each row turned in opposition to it's fellow, individual petals slowly dropping outward and around, perfectly in time to the tinkling music. Atop the casing petals, flower petals settled in their circular rows, each inner circle petal resting in the the interval between the petals of the outer as it lay itself fully open around the base of a large a glass bowl filled with crystal clear water.

    Tinkling music faded as Prince Paris's promised treasure swirled about in the clear water, hidden briefly in a floating cloud of long, dark green hair.  "Come little beauty..."  Wex entreated in the calmest of voices, the fingers of one hand idly stroking a ring on the other. "Present yourself." 

    Inside the bowl, the small form flinched and pressed itself against the glass. The creature that peered out at the Royal Court was completely nude and appeared at first glance, to be a slender humanoid child of about 9 years.  Hair that floated about her head and framing an angelic face with long tri-pointed ears peeking out from either side of her head. She did not swim, but rather she too floated, fingertips pressed to the glass.  The tiny figure and the water in the bowl were one.  It held her exactly as she would have it. Even so, the expression on her face as she stared out was one of muted fear.  As if she tried not look scared but could not keep the edges of terror from her features. Eyes the color of sparkling peridot, were wider than a human's, exotically upturned at the outside corners and accentuated in a frame of thick, dark lashes.   Slightly chubby cheeks flanked a full cupie-bow mouth, pinkish in hue.  Her nose was small and slightly upturned at the tip though she did not seem to be breathing the water though it.  

     Yes.  To the untrained eye, she appeared to be a frightened child suspended in a liquid solution.  The more educated eye would see her for exactly what she was.  A Water Nymph, well and truly caught in a magical tap that bound her to physical form.  For hundreds of years, the ethereal little sprite had lived solitude in the stream fed pool that had been her home for hundreds of years before humanoid creatures began their encroachment.  The beginnings of her interactions with the humanoid races there had been no problems.  The children of the newly built village had discovered her pool and tuned it into the local swimming hole.

    The Nymph had been overjoyed and seen her new situation as an adventure.   Something completely different to brake up the tedium of the centuries.  At first there were only a few playful jokes. The pulling of hair.  Mimicry of speech. The splashing of water.   However, after some time, the fluid little creature began to desire a more tangible form of contact.  Thus, in order to more fully interact with the children who often visited her pool in the summer months, the little water spirit adopted a form similar to theirs; a girl child.  In this form, she sported in the pond with her new found playmates. One by one, the children grew to teens, then adults and new children came to play. Eventually they came no more. New roads led the people away and the village died as villages were want to do. Again the pond turned quiet and save for the occasional hunter, she had little to no contact.

    In memory of her “children” she had gotten into the habit of sitting in the shallowest parts of the pond in her physical form, splashing and singing. Hopeful that one day, they might return to play with her once more. This, however, had proved to be her undoing. It had been during one such moment that she'd been seen by an unsavory individual who sold the information to ChoSun Wex for a pittance. Wex himself not only funded and carried out the expedition, but devised a means to bind and hold the little creature indefinitely. He then sold his acquisition to The House of Dolls for a generous sum and they in turn had sold her site unseen, to Paris.

    “Out of the bowl, my little darling.” Wex commanded this time, his tone calm but firm. “The High Prince would like to have a look at you.”

    Again the unscrupulous Mage stroked the ring, though this time he held it for a second or two, his eyes fixed upon the small figure floating in the bowl. The little water Nymph flinched multiple times, jerking about in the bowl as if being attacked. From her would emit a barely audible, high pitched wail would have those with exceptional hearing tilting their heads, one eye a twitch as the silent sound reverberated deep inside the inner ear. With a cruel smile, he let his hand drop away from the ring.

    “You know I hate having to do that to you, my dear.” Wex lied, his man-pretty face taking on a regretful expression. “Now come out.”

    The water at the rim of the bowl began to overflow in rivulets down the outside of the glass bringing with it the long dark green strands of her hair. Next came a tiny, well formed foot that hooked it's delicate heel on the lip and hoisted up a somewhat thick calf and thigh. Further up the rim tiny, webbed fingers gripped the edge and pulled her head and shoulders over the edge. For the briefest of moments, she paused, peridot eyes fixing ChoSun Wex with the most hateful of stares, before rounded hips, buttocks, back, opposing limbs, and the remaining water flowed from her glass. Down the side of the bowl she slid in the same path that initial rivulet of water had. Water spilled between 'flower' petals as the little water Nymph tumbled over the edge of the pad to the floor. Though the fall had appeared haphazard, she nevertheless landed on her feet, her long hair falling about her in clinging wet strands. Dripping water pooled at her feet on the marble floor then returned to her, creeping up her legs and torso before absorbing into her pale blue skin. There she stood for all the court to admire should they choose to look, clothed in her hair, eyes downcast, her hands clasped in front of her, and a defeated pout adorning her innocent looking little face.

    Only then did Wex remove the ring and pass it to the Steward, motioning for the man to give it to his Prince. “That ring will control her, my Lord.” He assured Paris with a sly smile. “Even in her most feral of moods.”




  21. An all but silent catch of breath sucked through the little Drow's teeth as a muscle in her right buttock jumped. Heavily suspecting her injured companion to have been the source, Jhulae spun toward him only to find herself caught at the shoulders by his huge paws, the huge man looming over her. Lashes squinted together to fight the early morning glare widened ever so slightly in shared realization. The connection had just been made.

    The intensity in his expression was somewhat jarring considering how playful he'd just been, but completely understandable. She could find no flaws in the big man's logic. Nor his physical form for that matter. In fact it was a tad bit distracting as her gaze lingered on play of well defined musculature under scarred skin as well as other more prominent attributes for a few seconds longer than might be deemed appropriate. Especially considering his current state of undress.

    “I have.” Jhulae confirmed as the huge man released his grip upon her shoulders, her gaze traveling down the long curve of his body as the man verbalized his thoughts. He was not wrong. Yet even as she deemed his conclusions quite sound, her eyes settled on what looked to be a dramatic widening of the drainage stain on one of his thigh bandages.

    “It was quite the little work out.” she mused, with a mirthless laugh, “Lest we forget.” She waved one delicate hand toward his belly wound and moved a bit closer to the massive Storm Spirit in an attempt to get a better look at what she suspected was a reopened wound. “I'm sure I could use a bath, and you really should not even be out of bed.” She chided with a shake of her head.

    His wolfish smile, while quite charming did not fool her one bit. The slightest slurring of his speech rang in her ears and his hands hand been shaking when they'd gripped her shoulders. Tapered ears flickered and caught the sound of his footsteps on the floorboards. How they slowed and became a stumbling caricature of their former fluidity back in the town square. The growing light of dawn caused Jhulae to narrow thick squinted lashes even more, for without her sundark lenses she was slowly going blind.

    “As much as I hate to admit it, you are right.” she agreed, still following his movements as best she could. “I'd be recognized almost anywhere I go at this point.”

    But the longer she hesitated, the more unsafe it would be to return to her favored den. She chewed the lower swell of her lip. There were things she had to retrieve from her usual hideout for even that was now no longer to be considered safe. Sadly the room in which they stood had neither bright enough light nor deep enough shadow for her cloak to work.

    The thought distracted her momentarily and so it was not until Aquill actually stumbled and fell right in front of her that her suspicions of a reopened wound were alarmingly confirmed. Unable to see properly, the dainty Drow stepped to the bed and groped around for her cloak as the big man struggled back to his feet. Once the precious garment was in hand, she squinted her eyes almost shut and moved toward the huge, if fuzzy, silhouette of what could only be Aquill and the bright glare of the widow beside which he now stood.

    “Move.” She ordered, rather imperiously, Ebony hands pushing with some force at his hip in effort to move his weakened figure aside. “You're not going to be watching anything if you bleed out.”

    Once the injured warrior was at least marginally out of the way, she deftly tossed her cloak over the window coverings, the dark mottled fabric cutting off the suns invasion and casting the room into a much more comfortable light. With an audible sigh of relief, Jhulae took Aquill by the hand and pulled him back toward the bed in hopes that he would just come along willingly. The males of any race could be exceedingly stubborn when wounded, even with the hot blood glowing in the dim as it oozed down the muscles of his thigh.

    “Now let me have a look at this.” She instructed, pushing him to a seated position as she reached across the bed for the medical kit and began the task of re-closing the deep wound in his thigh.

  22. Being who and what she was, Jhulae was use to being looked at. She was even use to occasionally being pawed. It had never annoyed her in the least, nor did it really displease her now. Even after her embarrassing reaction to the electricity generated by his hand she answered Aquill's leering looks with a charmingly crooked smirk. In fact she gave an amused laugh at his complement of her finely cleft posterior. What unsettled her greatly however, were the small electrifying jolts delivered by each casual seeming tap of his deviously charged fingertips. Every nefarious shock ran through the muscles of her leg, making her thigh as well as other more sensitive areas, spasm with a disturbing intensity.

    Through sheer force of will, Jhulae's smile remained one of amused calm. Though she did have to look away and bite the swell of her lower lip to continue that facade before turning her deceptively angelic face back toward Aquill. Inwardly the tiny Drow grew more than a little alarmed at her own body's betrayal to what was essentially a strangers touch. A beautifully favored and incredibly well stacked stranger... but stranger nonetheless. That final sentiment sounded insincere in her head as she admired the view with a lascivious glitter in her violet eyes. Sure they'd saved each other's proverbial bacon, she tried to convince herself, but there had to be some marginal level of decorum. Didn't there? It was one thing for her to be flirtatious, even forward. But never in her life had she felt quite so.... Wanton.

    Aquill's veiled promise of mutual pleasure and advantage prompted Jhulae's full lips to curl even more, one eyebrow lifting in a challenging 'oh really' expression. In fact she was on the verge of saying just that when she was suddenly caught in a rough, ostensibly casual embrace. Warm, electrified lips brushed the tapered tip of her ear causing the sensitive appendage to flicker and drop with flirtatious promises of physical fitness and durability. A sharp inhale sucked through her teeth and immediate tightening of her ebony skin could easily be seen through clinging black spider silk.

    So I see.” She chuckled somewhat apprehensively.

    The tip of her ear still twitching, Jhulae skillfully slipped from his grasp, rose again to all fours and deftly roll ass over end off the bed in a single, swift move. Landing on her feet, the tiny Drow stepped out of arms reach with a casual agility and then began to pace.  Clinging spider silk, a garment designed for protection and ease of movement did little to hide the ebb and flow of the lithe musculature beneath, nor the bounce of her more fleshy attributes.

    I can't think of anyone.” she mused, his query turning her expression serious. “They seemed to be expecting someone, that's for sure.” Trying to work it out in her head, shared each thought as it came to mind. “They knew I was coming. I'm sure of it. They would never have seen me had they not know what to look for and when to look.”

     Jhulae's long alabaster braid swung in sinuous opposition to the pendulum sway of her rounded hips as she continued to pace back and forth across the floor beside the bed, agitation evident in the firmness of her usually light step. Finally she stopped, crossed her arms over her breasts and lifted one hand to tap a delicate index finger on her chin.

    “My only guess would be the client.” she said with a shrug. “I never actually met the him. The contract came to me through...” She broke off, realization dawning in her violet eyes. “Through the same agent that tried to recruit me for...” Again, she didn't finish. Instead she turned back to face her diabolically flirtatious companion, her expression now somewhat confused. “But why would they want me or rather us, dead?” She asked, more to aid in her own thought process. “I mean,” she dropped her arms from their folded position, spreading her hands palm up and shrugging her shoulders in confusing, “After something of an intense philosophical debate we ended negotiations on civil terms... Or so I thought. No real incriminating information had been exchanged.” Again, she shrugged. “I don't get it.”


  23. A soft throaty groan had been Jhulae's first indication that her 'patient' was close to regaining consciousness. One long, elegantly tapered ear dropped and swiveled slightly back to listen but she kept her eyes, for the moment, on the task at hand. The second bloomed at the very edge of her vision as she carefully checked his stitched and bandaged abdomen. A sudden pulse of movement immediately drew her attention. In the glaring brightness of the new rising sun, Jhulae was unsure whether she'd seen anything at all. Neon violet eyes shifted under narrowed lashes toward the huge man's lower body. Still uneasy from the nights previous adventure, there is no real way to tell what might happen next. Yet another attempt on their lives? Some deadly viper set loose in the room, now come to strike at them from over the edge of the bed, perhaps? Where was that knife she'd pulled out of the big man's thigh?! Of course what she beheld swelling in the confines of his silken boxers was certainly a grand serpent of sorts, but not exactly the deadly Viper that she'd envisioned.

    Full cupie bow lips curled into a deviously amused if crooked smile. The body's reaction to stimuli is an ever astounding thing, she mused silently... Before thick frosty lashes flew wide in sudden shock. Upon one rounded cheek of her rump she felt one of the giant man's massive paws. In a flash the thought again rolled through her head, Where was that knife she'd pulled from the big man's thigh!? Thick digits gave her bottom a squeeze, a sudden light tingling of energy crackling from the warm skin of his hand, passing through the weave of the spider silk to dance across the smooth skin of her posterior and around before taking root at the apex of her thighs.

    Jhulae's reaction was sudden, embarrassingly dramatic and entirely involuntary. The tiny Drow's back dropped sway, its already dangerous curve becoming even more so. Thighs squeezed tight together, trembled slightly against a heated heartbeat that forced her to draw in a shuddering intake of breath, and set eyelashes fluttering as her eyes rolled. The consummate tease artist was unused to being on the receiving end of such devious treatment. Her methods, while titillating to be sure, were much more reliant upon erotically visual, and skilled physical stimuli. Where as his seemed to have the advantage of a preternatural edge.

    Somewhat unsettled, the tiny Drow covered her embarrassment as best she could. Clearing her suddenly dry throat, she twisted herself around disengaging from his hand to settle into a cross legged position in a single fluid motion. Jhulae sat, delicate looking hands resting folded in her lap near the big man's knees as he pushed himself into a sitting position as well.

    Yes they certainly would have.” She gave him a half smile and a a little mirthless laugh. “You saved my ass back there.” she replied with a charming smile and a negligent wave of her right hand. “I was in a tight spot and you would have been well within your rights let me twist. Anyone else surely would have so...” Her smile faded for the briefest of moments before returning full force, her eyes seeming to smile as well. “No need for thanks. It would have been extremely bad form to have just left you to die after such an act of professional cutesy.”

    Without knowing exactly why, Jhulae did not object when the stranger took her hand by the fingertips and brought it to his lips. It seemed a harmless enough gesture initially. However the thrill of electricity that accompanied such a greeting once again caused her smooth black skin to tighten in embarrassing places. With yet another little laugh she tried to pull back her hand, but he held it firm, making it impossible to cover the more prominent of her physical tells.

    It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Aquill Therryon .” Jhulae responded with a graceful incline of her head, her long white braid falling forward over her left shoulder. “Jhulae of House Tor'Ana... Obviously at your service for the moment.” She laughed, indicating his many wounds with her free hand. “Please try not to over exert yourself.” she cautioned seriously, making yet another attempt at retrieving her hand. “That stomach wound was a tough one to close... I'd hate to have to do it again.”


  24. The very last time that Nox could remember being in Roen's company he'd been an a mood much like the one he now wore. Regretful. Sad. Filled with remorse. A victim of circumstances largely of his own creation and regretting only that things had not gone his way. In fact, that very evening while in the thrall of A Warp Demon, the Devil had tried to throttle the Gypsy girl for trying to bring him to his senses. He'd shuffled her off and away from his side after that.

    Predator's keep. The name seemed fitting, somehow. It reminded her of the place where she had first made her deal with the devil. Chances are that she would have continued that line of thought with a brief she musing upon whether or not if there existed catacombs under this place as there had been Under the Castle in which they had first met. But the words 'she', 'associate', and 'underling' brought out an audible snort of amused derision. Search and rescue my round Carpathian ass... she thought, her expression reflective of her skepticism. Of course Bellanox never stopped to consider that she too, fell into those exact categories herself. However, in her view of herself, Nox was just one of the guys. One with tits, but still... Not someone to be looked upon in a sexual manor.

    This then, had to be one of Roen's many playmates. Either lured away due to his inattentiveness, or run away because of his aggressive and petulant nature. And while Nox did concede that 'stolen away' was also a possibility given the ravaged state of the lady in question's city, it was still the least probable of the three options. Given that the devil's gaze was currently averted, the lanky Gypsy rolled her eyes and went about holstering her newly returned Thing 2. Truth was, at this point, she was just glad to be reunited with her oldest friend. Someone familiar. Something from her past that she could cling to in order to avoid looking into the void of what had apparently been years. It didn't matter to her one wit that their first order of business was chasing tail.

    “I'll do vhat I can, Mister, J.” She responded, with a listless bob of her head after being filled in, the small bit of adrenaline at being reunited with her friend and mentor beginning to wain.

    Soon after Nox's acquiescence of her immediate fate, the Devil launched into an almost comical diatribe concerning the Gypsy girls derelict condition, bringing an embarrassed flash of intense hatred to the girls jade green eyes that virtually bored into the abyssal creature's back. How DARE he?! The Ner... Wait... What? A few hasty blinks to break eye contact with Roen's person, and a quick shake of her head and it was gone. What was happening? Was she really so exhausted that she couldn't control herself? Apparently. Taking a deep if shaking breath, she forced herself to calm, and turned here eyes back to him at last.

    Painting a weak, curling smile upon her lips and nodded, accepting Roen's bleak appraisal of her rather pathetic condition. “Yes... Time to prepare.” she intoned. “Chall ve then?” With a dramatic flair she was far from feeling, Nox indicated the ruined road with a flourish of her tattered cloak and a partial bow of feigned difference to the Devil she called Boss.







  25. For the second time that evening Jhulae's head was rocked back on her neck. Though, given the big man's growing weakness, it was not quite so hard as the first. This time, however, she was snatched from her feet only to wind up nose to nose with a growling beast. Frosty lashes grew wide, the obsidian skin of her face growing a shade paler. Idiot! She thought of herself, having known better than to suddenly reach toward a man not yet rid of battle madness.

    “My fault!” she exclaimed, both hands semi raised, slender fingers splayed to indicate that she was at least marginally unarmed while fervently hoping her words sank in quickly enough to save both of their lives. “Take it easy, big guy...” She smiled nervously and did her best to talk him down. Whether or not he heard her was questionable. Nevertheless, ever so slowly, the tiny Drowess was returned to her proper footing, her exhale of relief clearly audible. In a fight Jhulae had no fear, as long as she could keep moving she was deadly.  But few good shots... Hell, a few half hearted shots from the massive paws that released their shaking grip could have easily put her down hard at such close range. “Tit for Tat... You save my life, I save yours.” Another nervous laugh fell from from her lips as she stepped back, slowly lowering her hands to her sides. “That's how it works.”

    Perhaps it was because of the rarity of selfless acts in a world of purchased execution,  but it pained Jhulae to see the big man struggle so. She could see the confusion on his handsome face, the fog in his eyes and the blood... So much blood on his clothes, though surely not all his own. But she dare not move to assist him lest he manhandle her again and she really had no desire to hurt him. However, neither assistance nor defense proved necessary.

    Again her eyes widened as the trembling man stood and wrenched away most of his clothing. Had she leisure Jhulae would have been able to fully appreciate the beautifully proportioned and deliciously scarred specimen that stood before her eyes scantily clad and on wobbly legs. Sadly she did not. Immediately after giving the location of the first aid kit, the giant man's eyes rolled up and he fell like a freshly cut tree in the forest.   His incapacitation would actually turn out to be something of a blessing in disguise. Though he was would be hard to maneuver due to the dead weight/noodle limb issue, he wouldn't be fighting her or trying to kill her when she tried to help him. Immediately she retrieved the rucksack and the medical kit therein, set out the supplies that she felt she'd need, then paused to cleanse her hands and triage the damage.




    He was a mess. A a myriad of new wounds among old scars the worst having been the sword thrust through his abdomen. That had been her first priority, and she hoped she'd cleaned and stitched everything well enough. In any case, it no longer bled. Only time would tell for sure.. Twin cuts on one shoulder required careful stitches. As did a knife thrust through his hand and through one thigh. The hand she fretted about somewhat. Even though the wound was perpendicular with the bone and tendon in his hand, there were always mobility concerns with such a wound.  She did the best she could with what she had to work with. Moving on, she found that the big man's opposite thigh still held the blade that had pierced it in the melee. It was with wrinkled nose and furrowed brow that she'd pulled the dagger from the wound with a sickening schloop sound before setting it aside. Luckily the blade had well missed the artery. After seeing to that one as well, she turned her attention to the arrows in his shoulder.

    In the rucksack she'd found a pair of pliers, perfect to help her pull the arrow heads out by the protruding nubs of wooden shaft. The angle at which he lay, required that she crawl over his body to get behind him. Kit and pliers in hand, she slithered across his chest, perhaps the least injured portion of his being and squeezed herself into a small space behind his shoulder. The big man's position on the bed gave her little room in which to work. However, she persisted. After much tugging, pulling and a bit of leverage assistance from from her left foot both arrowheads had been successfully removed and the wounds dressed.

    Finally she sat back on her knees, her rump resting on booted feet in that little space of bed just behind the stranger's shoulder having a much more lingering appraisal of his patched and bandaged physique. He definitely cut a fine figure, surely her efforts could only enhance such magnificently tagged hide. Jhulae was no doctor, but she was thorough. Jhulae had gotten herself into enough trouble in her life time to make at least a passable field medic. Rising up a she crawled forward just a bit for a final check of her handy work. Everything looked as well as could be expected.   The rest was small stuff that would heal best on it's own. 


    "Crisis averted..."  she breathed in a massive sigh of relief.


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