Aeonian || In Chapters - Printable Version

+- alonimi (https://alonimi.net)
+-- Forum: Out of Character (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=68)
+--- Forum: The Repository (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=76)
+--- Thread: Aeonian || In Chapters (/showthread.php?tid=774)

---

Aeonian || In Chapters - Kat - 08-27-2019

---

RE: Aeonian || In Chapters - Kat - 08-27-2019



"Do you remember the Crossroads?"

Most Abaasy knew this aforementioned place well. It was the largest accumulation of dimensional intersections within the omniverse as well as the only entrance leading to the Maelstrom. The Fae of the Deep Dreaming and Arcadia dubbed it The Promenade, for their purposes were leisurely and light. The Djinn of Jannah christened it the Silent Chasm and, though this was a rumor, it was said that true peace could be found at the end of the path. Abaasy, because they were what they were, simply called it the Crossroads.

It was where the most lucrative contracts were forged, willingly or otherwise.

One such Abaasy and maker of contracts, Kysad, would slowly nod his horned head to answer the question. More than remembering, of course, he could still smell the scent of celestials in transit. His ears were often reminded of the chime of belled hooves as the assemblies of otherworldly chitterlings moved in phantasmic groups, their parties included in an endless procession of visitors hailing from countless dimensions with infinite reasons to travel. His eyes were reminded of the splendor of the Crossroads only when they witnessed actual miracles happening - which wasn't often and certainly wasn't as satisfying.

Miracles, mirages, and marriages were all deceptions in their own right. This much Kysad swore by.

"I don't," Philiadus Loe murmured, his distorted visage reminiscent of an ink blot. So dark was his flesh, creation was envious. His features, including his mouth, were lost in the void of his person. A silhouette, a shadow. He had more in common with the idea of lightlessness than he did with any of their peers, and how he retained his maleness was something Kysad often questioned, though privately. Loe was incredibly powerful and, more importantly, detached. If death were to come swiftly, for reason of wanton slaughter or for purpose of repurposing the corpses, the Abaasy often dealt with butchers such as Loe. He was never early, nor was he late. He simply was. When the shadow spoke, his rudimentary limbs bent and retracted, tendrils of ethereal darkness his form would swallow when there was no longer need for them.

It bothered Kysad, and if something such as Loe unsettled a contract demon, it was safe to presume humanity was incapable of fathoming Loe without consequences.

The two were perched over the causeway overlooking the lower thighs of the sleeping behemoth. Abaasy, known as a race of scavengers and thieves, made their home in the slumbering shell of their greatest hero, Khu'chev. He, who tore asunder the magnificent heavens in the dimension of Ichor, was met with eternal sleep as punishment and collapsed within the great basin of Nod's Ixithaca Valley. Once, this land without light or direction was open to the endless storms of the seasons. Thunder during the low tide stretch, fleshy hail storms during high tides. Now, the efforts of the native Abaasy ensured they stayed dry and safe from the elements thanks to the sacrifice of Khu'chev.

A city inside the still breathing carcass, prodigious and ramshackle, was built. It was where Abaasy such as Kysad had lived much of their lives, though it was formally unnamed. Colloquially, Khu'chev was used, but outsiders often called it like it was.

"The Corpse is crowded tonight. A raid returned, didn't they?" Loe's sightless portrait tilted to direct his attention toward Kysad. "Do you still avoid them? The raids?"

"They're a sore spot for me, but I go when I'm needed," which, both Kysad and Loe knew, wasn't often. "They consider my condition a liability. I don't blame them."

"Condition?" Like the scuttling of scraping claws on marble floors, Loe's laughter clicked and clacked and scraped Kysad's ears. "Virgin heart, sutured psyche- your abnormality affects nothing!"

"Raiding is grunt work," Kysad retorted, his red lips offering a partial snarl. "Carrying the dead for dismantling, skinning and removing bones... I never cared for it."

"That does make you the odd fish in this sea of flesh fondling miscreants and torture enthusiasts. Perhaps the word is rare."

Silent as a statue, Kysad continued to look at the massive outline of the felled behemoth impassively. His interests were elsewhere. This place was... nothing. It came from nothing and it would fall to nothingness once more. Elsewhere, of course, was a fantasy he had convinced himself the importance of. Where this was all business and slaughter and the business of slaughter, there were actual choices to be made elsewhere.

"Come," Loe said as he rose, stygian and fluid, the trace of a limb forming to motion toward Khu'chev. "I have questions I need to be answered."

---

RE: Aeonian || In Chapters - Kat - 08-27-2019



It was in seeing what he wasn’t expecting to see that an unequivocal interest was sparked in Kysad.

With a grunt, Kysad seated himself in a chair while Loe loomed apprehensively over the gathered Abaasy. There was a stranger in their midst, an Ifrit, who stood several heads taller than the scrappy, decrepit leaders of the raiding party. His countenance appeared to be painted on, the stoicism offered by his features etched in dust and clay. Handsome in a delicate way, the Ifrit spoke first.

“What fortunate timing. Is that him?” When his lips moved, threads of molten magma dribbled down the plump center of his perpetual pout, threatening to trail destruction down the length of his chin and throat. Yet, as though to maintain the inconceivability of the situation, the magma only made it as far as his chin before it dissipated into nothing.

Beautiful, pitiful creature. Kysad felt equally enamored and disgusted with the Ifrit, though his face hid none of the latter sentiment as he answered with, “Speaking of me or of Loe?” Hitching his thumb, he pointed to the unmissable black mass swaying serpentine in the middle of the room. Loe almost brushed the ceiling decor with the crest of his cranium, though Kysad noted his companion was surprisingly respectful of Abaasy treasures. Bone crafted architecture, hair and skin based textiles, soul lacquered flooring; the list was seemingly endless. Loe appreciated the art of torture. As it had been explained to Kysad, there was little else to appreciate when one was constantly phasing in and out of the void between dimensions.

Loe scoffed in retort, haunting the chamber with the sound while the raiding party all but quaked in response. Cowardly Abaasy were everywhere because cowardly Abaasy lived longer than brazen ones. These shriveled old husks were demons of immeasurable age, half-decayed relics of a generation raised on the tales of Khu'chev and the reckoning he brought upon Ichor. Winged guardians struck from the skies, cities alight with the fire of Khu'chev’s rage. It was an epic told over thousands of verses, but even then, scholars both Abaasy and otherwise would memorize the tale to better understand the legend it was written for.

And Kysad was forever in awe of Khu'chev, not as the greatest hero of a cowardly race, but as a vessel in which such a cowardly race would seek refuge. This was their paradise, guts and glory included.

“No, Master Kysad, I did not mean Master Loe.”

Golden hues, calm in their presentation, directed themselves over the faces of the several raiding chiefs before they returned to the Ifrit. “And you are?”

“Ah, yes. Forgive me. I am not remiss, but rather lacking in focus. We of Jannah do not speak. To speak now, among your kind, is something I must practice.” His head, laden with a spill of flames, bowed sparingly before once more raising so Kysad always had the means to lock sights. “I am Jasa, a purveyor of knowledge and deeds, and I have come seeking your assistance in a matter of… immediate importance.” Lips forming a thin humorless line, Jasa stepped away from the old chieftains so the gap between him and Kysad wasn't such a large one.

“I imagine,” Kysad let slip with a throaty chuckle, “if it's important, it’s immediately important.” Slouching in his seat, one clawed set of digits raked against the skeletal design, teasing the rounded joints at the end of the arm of the chair. “You have the chiefs here to speak with. I’m not entirely sure how else you can be helped.”

“It is somewhere the chieftains cannot go, you see. They will not… ah, the word. To travel, to go in a way-”

“Venture?”

“Yes. They will not venture to the lands in need of their assistance.”

Kysad clicked his tongue and shot the collective of leaders a disappointing swing of his gaze. “What a surprise. Is the issue larger than defenseless women and children? If so, you should have expected to meet a wall.”

Loe, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until this point, twisted his long torso like that of a giant snake, his darkness coiling around where legs would have been if they had been attached to his torso at the time. “You are hunting something?”

“Someone,” the Ifrit corrected, not quite willing to look at Loe when he answered. “and they are powerful. More powerful than any demon I have ever met.” A pause. “Besides Khu'chev, of course.”

The collective all nodded at this notion, knowing well enough that there was likely no greater demon than the slumbering behemoth they currently occupied.

Kysad, feeling a bit despondent about the news, remarked, “Is it a white-haired lady demon with dainty little horns and a propensity for taking cock?” Raising his claws, he gestured at somewhere near five feet in height. “Yay high, attractive but incredibly reckless?”

To no one’s surprise, the Ifrit issued a series of quick nods. “Yes, yes! That is her! She came to Jannah several weeks ago and since then, she has caused nothing but turmoil and carnage in her wake! She is a nightmare!”

“Yeah, she is. A murderous she-bitch if I've ever known one.” Rising to stand, Kysad stomped heavily to where the taller Ifrit stood and clapped a hand over his shoulder. “She’s terrifying, I agree. She’s also considerably easier to deal with than most of the souls I’ve made bargains for. So, between the two of us- I think you came to the right demon for this particular job.”

Exhaling, Kysad appended, “And if I’m not enough, Loe is.”

“I would cherish Bress.” Still wound up like a rope, Loe hoisted his upper body like it weighed nothing, letting it rise and expand until it resembled the head of a cobra. “She is the most delicious evil I’ve ever tasted.”

Kysad, unphased, continued to explain with, “But this isn’t something I’ll do for free. Bress isn’t a prize for anyone but Loe, so you’ll need to incentivize this deal.”

“Well,” Jasa began slowly, searching for the words while the demons of the room stared him down. He leaned even closer to Kysad, secretive as he endeavored, “the riches of Jannah are endless, Master Kysad. If you have a price, the Djinn can pay for it. There is no friend quite like a Djinn.”

“I agree. Having a few friends on your side of the Crossroads would be nothing short of beneficial. That said, it sounds like it’s not you whom I should be speaking with, but whoever actually sent you. A salesman doesn’t become a messenger unless someone is desperate, right, Jasa?” Tugging gently at the Ifrit’s upper arm, Kysad began steering Jasa toward the door. “But we can discuss this in private. Loe will follow if he wants, but the elders needn’t remain when they have their own affairs to deal with.”

And without so much as a glance back at the chieftains, Kysad and Jasa departed the assemblage to head west through the membrane encased city.

Loe, as he often did, simply vanished.

---

RE: Aeonian || In Chapters - Kat - 08-27-2019



The greatest lie ever told, in Kysad’s humble opinion, was what he told Jasa as the pair marched through the congested streets of Khu'chev.

“You’re in good company,” and with this said, he smiled a sharp smile and proceeded to explain, “I’m one of few Abaasy to ever give Bress the time of day. She’s of this place, as all Abaasy are, but in the same manner that you are of the flames. You do not live for them nor do you live amongst them. They live in you and that makes you what you are on a base level, but the rest is unique to… well, you.”

“How do you know her?” Jasa asked softly, his curious hues peering around the pair in case anyone might be eavesdropping. They weren’t, but fresh meat often expected the worst of the Abaasy. They had every right to. This was, after all, a city built in a comatose behemoth. Imagine what else an Abaasy might be capable of.

“I fucked her.”

“Once?”

Kysad shrugged, not terribly proud of admitting, “Several times. Enough I lost count. I’m sure that doesn’t look good for me, but you have to realize that she wasn’t always-” Snapping his clawed fingers, he struggled for the word. “So.. uh, you know. Fucking…volatile?”

Or, Kysad considered, maybe she was always unstable. Certainly no more unstable than their Darwinism-in-action leader types, but she was obsessed with things most Abaasy didn’t have time to obsess over. Appearance, personal gain, freedom. Dangerous topics to bring up in the company of demonkind.

“I did as well.”

With a swivel of his hips, Kysad halted sidelong next to the much taller Ifrit and narrowed his sights until he was looking through maroon slits. “That why you need help with her? She holdin’ your family hostage? Stole all your money?”

For the first time since they had met, Jasa gave a chuckle, albeit a weak one. “No, no. She was surprisingly gentle with me. If anything, I’m grateful for the opportunity.”

“But?”

“But she has convinced the Sultan to take her hand in marriage and-”

“Say no more!” Holding up an index finger, it waggled erratically in Jasa’s face, coming dangerously close to the molten mess his full lips seemed to have zero control over. “She swindled him. I get it. Honestly, between you and me, that’s a real cushy gig for an Abaasy. I’d go fuck the Sultan if he was going to keep me as a pet, but-” Kysad motioned up and down over his person as if that were enough to explain why a rich ruler might not want to associate with him.

“But Lady Bress is radiant.” Nodding sagely, Jasa looked from his companion as he asked, “Where are we going, Master Kysad? I’ve never tread foot within your capital before.”

“This won’t be the time you do so, either, so don’t get too sappy.”

Cocking a thumb over his shoulder, Kysad continued with, “I live outside Khu'chev, toward the base of the Spikebacks.” Only the Abaasy would think to name a mountain range like it was a metal band. It brought a chuckle out of the demon before he returned to guiding Jasa through upper Khu'chev. “No matter what you’ve heard regarding how awful Nod is, let me be the first to reassure you: it’s nothing in comparison to Limbo.”

Jasa looked as though he might speak, but decided against it with a tight knitting of his brow and a pouty purse of his lips.

The pair walked for what seemed like hours, passing the hovels of the trachea’s constricted passageway while doing their best to avoid knocking into decorations made of seemingly human parts. As with much of Khu'chev, the homes here constructed from bodies, their skin and bone arrangements molded by hands familiar with the details of carnage and gore. Kysad had once heard a particularly unfortunate soul lament Khu'chev’s architecture as akin to letting a butcher build his home from the guts of a Sow. Kysad, being a realist by most accounts, agreed.

After all, this was where he was reared and where he was recruited from, taken from a shack built beneath Khu'chev’s massive uvula, snuggled directly into the soft tissue of the behemoth's throat. It felt like an eternity had passed since then.

Maybe it had.

The pair finally crossed the threshold leading from Khu'chev just in time to hear a booming clap of thunder. Not knowing the season, Kysad ushered Jasa over damp soil through a darkness light refused to penetrate. Even the Ifrit, radiant with his own personal fire within, did little more than cast an ebbing glow through the dim of endless night. Either of the men could have closed their eyes and missed nothing of the trip. Kysad knew the way by scent, but he found it easiest to keep a hand firmly placed on Jasa’s shoulder to steer him along.

Their arrival was unceremonious, though Kysad did say, “Ta-da!”

“Are we here?”

“Oh, right,” the demon snickered and nodded his head before realizing Jasa wouldn’t see that either. “Ahem- yes. I just have to-”

But rather than explain how the door needed to be opened because only he could control it, or how safe his home was thanks to having been built into the side of a mountain where winged holy beasts once resided, he was interrupted by the very same door grinding open. He paused, his mouth suddenly dry.

Then, as though there were nothing funnier than the Abaasy and the Ifrit now semi-cowering in the subtle glow of the entrance, a smooth giggle broke the silence.

“Well, well. Seems you’ve been busy since I’ve been gone.”

Bress was little more than a flash of white as she disappeared into the cavern beyond, leaving Jasa gaping while Kysad hissed, “Fuck! This is too soon-"

---

RE: Aeonian || In Chapters - Kat - 08-27-2019



She was beautiful.

Beautiful and terrifying.

Beautiful and terrifying and simple.

Beautiful and terrifying and simple and atrocious.

Beautiful and terrifying and simple and atrocious and…

Prey.

His prey.

Loe was not always Loe.

Long before Khu'chev had united the Abaasy against the winged Celestials, driving them from the land and cursing Nod to an eternity of night, a race of shadows visited the lands while they lay divided by pride and prejudice. Miserable Shades, capable of little more than observing the worlds they toured, quickly learned their silent plight would earn no favor from the natives. The early Abaasy were malignant inbred abominations that shambled across the dirt with as much grace as a severed hand. The Celestials were vacuous light spheres with vaguely humanoid centers, hovering high above their treetop habitats like swarms of fiery mosquitos.

Neither race was past their prepubescence; neither understood the impact of the Shades’ stay on Nod.

Before contract Demons, there were those who drained the souls of their hosts. Parasitic dimension hoppers, long content to breed all manner of chaos and discord in their wake so long as their existence remained hidden from those they tormented. Timelines were distorted, histories were unwritten and rewritten, lives were changed, destinies were destroyed, and whole worlds were swallowed by the destruction the Shades brought. Nod was forever changed thanks to the Shades, but this wasn’t Loe’s doing. In fact, Loe wasn’t Loe when this transpired so he couldn’t rightfully enjoy the deliciously ravaged state of present Nod. Without a personal stake in the downfall of a juvenile realm, he simply existed there while there was work to be done.

Borne of these Shades, a more sophisticated parasite extended to the realms within the Umbral dimensions. If there was a Hell, it was the web of shattered realms separated from the Crossroads by countless layers of space and time. Forgotten places where Shades had annihilated all forms of life as well as stolen the bodies and spirits of the native lifeforms for their personal use. With these physical forms, they had corporeal vessels to command for the first time in their long history. No longer shackled to the will of their host, the parasites used their cunning to create bonds through promises, fulfilling the wishes and wants of their hosts in exchange for their bodies when they died. Some hosts lived for eons before coming to their end, but the wait was worth it for beings unable to create frames of their own.

Philiadus Halspun was one such individual who made a pact with a Shade. His home realm was overrun with terrible night beasts intent on devouring the population of Elves, and though Philiadus was adept in the art of magic, his ability wasn’t enough to keep the monsters at bay. Ironically, the magic he turned to was far more dangerous than roaming beasts. He knew little of what he was in possession of when he summoned Loe. A Shade summoning was unheard of in his realm; the Elves were too proud to practice the dark arts. Philiadus considered their pride to be the reason for the night beasts growing aggression and took all the chances his forefathers refused to take.

Loe came when called and did what Shades always did - it promised to help Philiadus if the man would surrender his body and soul to Loe when his life was over. Philiadus accepted as countless others had accepted, reasoning his life was worth far less than the safety of his world. The realm would be saved, the beasts vanquished, and the world would rejoice for their hero and savior, Philiadus Halspun. For the better part of a century, Philiadus lived peacefully as the leader of an entire continental kingdom, considered to be the first and last of the Vanquisher Kings.

Then he died.

Only, rather than die as Loe would hope, the soul refused to agree to the terms of their previous agreement. In fact, Philiadus’ soul insisted that they were better suited to life as a Shade than Loe was. They had done more in their short life than Loe had ever done, and it was clear that Loe needed to retire from soul stealing and leave it to Philiadus. The two argued about this for years. Centuries. Eons. More time would pass before the pair finally gave up and agreed to work as a unit if only to do something other than continue arguing amongst themselves. Perhaps this was what caused the abnormality in Loe’s state because, rather than take on a host body for a period of time, the Shade’s body changed to take on traits of something living. Incorporeal on occasion, it could hold a physical form for long periods, and rather than be a sexless creature of the genderless variety, Philiadus’ appetites carried over to the Shade.

It was in this unclear period of Loe’s existence they became Philiadus Loe, the host form of the Shade Loe as well as the Soul of the Mage Philiadus Halspun.

By the time Loe ventured to Nod to work among the Abaasy, several millennia had passed. As a Shade, Loe would still make bargains and promises to unknowing creatures, but Philiadus ensured they were worthwhile endeavors for both parties involved. Even if they acted and spoke in a unified manner, their minds remained separate, meaning Loe would always be a creature controlled by opposing natures.

Yet, when it came to Bress, both agreed that she was their target while they were snuggly stationed amongst Abaasy. What better target was there?

When he dissipated from the chambers of the Chieftains, his formless mass floated like a dark plume of smoke, briefly tracking the movements of Kysad and Jasa before floating toward the mouth of the behemoth. Hours before the Abaasy and the Ifrit would exit Khu'chev, Loe did, and he took no time making his way to Kysad’s home at the base of the Spikebacks. Slipping beneath the rock entrance, he was met with the open hollow of the cave. Where the goliath city was all flesh and living, Kysad's cavernous home reflected the death of the landscape of Nod. No trapped souls begged for mercy, as he kept none. No warped and grotesque furnishings were in sight. Instead, everything was crafted from obsidian and firestone, lit by candles whose flames flickered enticingly through the dim. The foyer was large, but the chamber it fed into was much larger, with a ceiling that stretched high and uneven. Runes were embedded in most available surfaces, archaic and amateur, yet powerful enough to keep the tide of the spectral fiends far from crossing the threshold of this place.

Loe examined the room carefully before pausing when he heard a voice humming softly. If Loe was capable of smiling, now would be the time to do so.

“Bress.”

---

RE: Aeonian || In Chapters - Kat - 08-27-2019



She was the cool air that kissed the ruddy cheeks of children as they ran lost through stygian wilds. She was the song that sailors hummed as they pulled tautly at the shroud of their ship while scaling upward toward the crow’s nest. She was the cup of coffee before a long day. She was the nails raking down a young groom’s back while his blushing bride was out of town. She was the fire that burned in the hearts of warriors just before they were run through by sword or dagger or spear or stave. She was the taste of summer mornings, hot and sticky sweet. She was the howl of wolves as they tore across the tundra. She was the last uncertain steps of a death row convict on their way to the electric chair.

She was so much, too much, and not enough.

By the graces of some unknown divinity hailing far from the hellish recesses of her homeland, Bress of the Abaasy stood in the heart of the Djinn sultanate with a look of pure elation brightening her pale features. Ivory and statuesque, with curved horns nestled within the spirals of her snowy curls, a peek of pointed porcelains between a slip of rosy lips was enough to keep the residing Sultan at arm’s reach. He wanted her. She could tell by the uneasy shift of his thighs beneath his ornate robes, adjusting and repositioning himself until few present in the court were capable of misconstruing his squirming at even a glance. When his bottom lip seemed to quiver in anticipation as he spoke her name, low and warm from the base of his throat, she knew he was hers. She need only to take him.

“Bress,”

How he must cherish that singular syllable as it crosses the threshold of his tongue, she mused, but I appreciate his true desires implore him to usher it between heaving breaths while making languid thrusts of his hips. I recognize a kindred sinner when I see them. Talk, Sultan, while you are still able.

“Your presence in our kingdom has provided Jannah with a glimpse of the power the Abaasy hold over their victims and, with it, you coaxed countless acts of disobedience and disrespect from Djinn who previously swore fealty to my throne. As is stands, you are accused of laying claim to the lands of our forefathers by the practice of deception and trickery. This is beyond treasonous- it is blasphemy. You are allowed to defend yourself, so I implore you to do so delicately.” Arms crossing, the Sultan wore a stern mask as though it might counteract the uncertain snaking of his hips.

Without hesitation, she took a step forward in her dress of gossamer, the sheerness of which was dutifully ignored as it was constituted as proper attire for a Demon. The nobles were fortunate she chose to wear anything at all. However, even the legendary lengths of Djinn diplomacy at work weren’t capable of keeping the less seasoned members of the court from gawking.

“These accusations are baseless. Greatly exaggerated whispers of gossip. Your court is here, united at either of your sides, ready and willing to give their very lives were you to ask it of them. I am humbled by these charges even if they are incorrect because they inflate the powers I was given by blood and the abilities I have mastered through years of study. Without a contract, I am nothing. Ask these men and women you have anointed if I am their muse of worship. Ask your advisers if their decisions rely on my opinions. Ask your Sultana if she seeks my counsel.”

Taking a few steps closer, Bress closed in on the handful of steps elevating the Sultan from where she had the floor.

“I am nothing. In the shadow of your majesty, I am an insect. None hold the power of the throne, the devotion of the people or the command of the might of Jannah’s military other than you. You, Malik. You, Shah. You, Sultan. You, Murad.” It was the last of her speech that drew a barely audible sigh of satisfaction from the Sultan, but she allowed him only a few brief seconds to linger over the fact she dared to state his true name. “I will apologize for anything you wish, but these accusations are… beneath you.”

And as she stepped away with a jingle of gold and platinum circlets dancing at her ankles, she knew there was no threat - only opportunity - and she meant to take it by any means necessary.

Ending up beneath Murad was a bonus.

---

RE: Aeonian || In Chapters - Kat - 08-27-2019

Wicked Blood

“You know me?”

Physique wrapped in a series of harnesses fashioned from pale leather, they were just shy of matching the opalescent complexion of the woman speaking. Bress stood barely half the height of the Shade, plump with the sins of every nation she had ever visited, seductively feigning distress across neat features as a precautionary bid to further disarm her pursuer.

Loe, in contrast, was just a shape. Miasmatic in nature with curls and wisps of ominous vapor rising from where extremities may have been. Cloaked by the surrounding darkness of the cavern, he appeared massive; using obscurations and shadow to leave the Abaasy guessing where he ended and where the rest of Kysad’s cave began.

A moment of silence fell over the pair before Loe swept closer to test his luck.

“You know us, Bress. Deep down, the knowledge is there and it’s waiting to be admitted.”

Pale brows knit ever-so-slightly over milky hues before Bress scoffed.

“Doubtful.”

Whether she recognized Loe or not, she didn’t care to speak with him. His presence was smothering. He was the irritant in the eyes of day laborers, the off-key note played at a piano recital. He was a mosquito bite that never had a chance to heal. Just outside her grasp of understanding, what he was weighed on her consciousness. Looming in a manner similar to the Shade himself, the irritant pressed inward, as consistent the far waves of the Endless Sea might swallow the coast of Nod.

Without any prompting necessary, Bress began putting space between them, her clawed feet scraping at the stone as she considered just where she had to go from here. She had come to harass Kysad, but the Shade was making sure her initial task wasn’t a simple one.

It was best she couldn’t make out the ghastly features of the Voidspawn. Though he could wear no smile of intent, he still had eyes somewhere in the dark, and oh how they stared at Bress. They stared at her full lips, they stared at her shapely thighs, and they stared at the space obfuscated just beneath the swell of her bosom. Beneath that divine meat would beat a tell-tale heart. Loe could feel it from his position now yards away, feel it captured within Bress’ shaky frame, a fluttering organ soaked in terror. For now, the flesh was keeping it safe from his nether fangs and endless appetite, but his time would come.

Oh, and how he would feast when the time was right.

“You think?” Like whistling wind, his voice came from all directions surrounding Bress. “Perhaps I was mistaken in thinking you clever. I have heard you are very clever, Dear. I have heard you are a trickster who has tormented entire worlds.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Bress breathed, not daring to take her sights from the creeping darkness drifting her way. For every step she took backward, Loe covered three or four. It would be less than a moment before he was upon her, and despite the risk of sounding negative, the Abaasy was sure she was trapped. “I’ve done nothing my brethren wouldn’t do. Why, I expect there are those of my kind who put my deeds to shame. I’m an amateur, you see- wet behind the ears and eager to learn!”

“To quote you… ‘Doubtful’.”

“And why have you come to Kysad’s home? Are you a friend of his?” Her steps came to an abrupt half as she backed herself against a sooty wall, her palms and rear now stained with coal particles from assessing her predicament. “I’m sure he’ll be back shortly. You needn’t worry about me if you’re here to see him.”

Sweeping cold crept from the floor, spreading up her toes and to the tops of her feet. It took more effort than she cared to exude to keep from shivering, but Loe could see the goose flesh on her bare arms and legs. He pressed forward while she shrank back, and once he was hovering as a spreading wall of shadow, he whispered in his whistling way, “We have hours before he arrives.”

“…What do you want?”

“Just what I have now.”

Bress was squinting, afraid of overanalyzing that which terrified her, but in the hollow insides of the shade, she swore there was something unmistakeably humanoid. An illusion perhaps. “You could do so much better, you know.” Against her better judgment, she continued to stare through the fog, wracking her mind for reasons why the Shade might have something so peculiar tied into its existence.

“What do you see?” Without a filter, Loe gave away little of what he might have been contemplating. Instead, his inquiries were kept broad and simple. The aimless prods at a conversation between a cat and mouse. “What are you thinking?”

“I believe you have someone inside you.” Dirty digits scratched at a patch of skin on her left thigh, leaving a collection of dark trails in their wake. “Did you eat them? I’m thinking I’d rather not be eaten, of course. What else would I be thinking about at a time like this?” Her tone carried mild annoyance as she added, “You’d think you were waiting for instructions or something.”

The laugh Loe ushered forth was blood-curdling; the opposite of a Siren’s song.

“Conceivably, I am that someone. Would it be such a far stretch for your imagination to believe I have no interest in eating you right now?” To his credit, he felt now wasn’t the time nor the place for such messiness. “If I told you not to fear being eaten, would you feel at ease within my presence?”

Immediately, she lied and answered with, “Yes. I would be greatly relieved to know that. Is it true?”

“Take my word, Bress. You will come to no harm while I am in your company this evening.”

“Does that include harm from others?” Rather than attempt to placate her newfound companion, Bress’ head began spinning new ideas as to how she might benefit from Loe’s presence. “You never know what sort of business might sprout up.”

“If you mean Jasa or Kysad, you know well enough you are more powerful than both of them. My assistance would not be necessary.”

“No, no… Wait.” A pause. “Jasa? That sounds familiar. Why do you mention him?” At some point, Bress had settled in against the wall, making the most of being pinned by reclining her back upon the mostly even patch of stone. Her outfit was ruined, but she dismissed it as a necessary loss. Clothing was replaceable, whereas flesh often wasn’t. “Is he here? In Nod?”

“Bearing the news of your engagement, no less. He told Kysad you were stirring up trouble.” A shadowy appendage snaked up the woman’s bare ribs, caressing her torso with the same ginger intimacy a lover might use to count her ribs after an exhausting evening in bed. “Congratulations are in order, are they not?”

While she hated having no control, her body arched eagerly at the touch. Fear was much easier to manage when treated as an aphrodisiac. Her lips split as they quivered, a chime of laughter cutting through the cavern.

“You want to celebrate my sham marriage? Pray tell me, how? As far as I am aware, you’re spectral and without reason to be otherwise. I can’t even fathom how you might have eaten me, for that matter, but I had expected that to be the extent of your motivations and appetite.”

“My appetites are many, Bress. More than any singular body might sate. Curious?” Her mention of his motivations was carefully ignored.

“Very,” she admitted, barely audible as the words passed in what little space remained between the pair. “If you keep your promise.”

“Faith, Bress. I will satisfy your curiosity while slaking my appetite, and I will do these things while keeping my promise.” As he finished speaking, Bress would feel brushes against her throat from unseen lips, their curve of amusement bearing invisible teeth that grazed the exposed surface of her windpipe. “Your wicked blood need not be the nectar that crosses my tongue this night.”

---

RE: Aeonian || In Chapters - Kat - 07-20-2020



Unto Bress, Loe yielded glimpses of the full extent of his power.

The ripples in her flesh with every thrust resonated deep within his primordial core, recalling the secret history of its host, recounting days of yore when the body of a woman was one sweet pleasure he was rarely afforded. Loe’s blind eyes were lost beneath the miasma of his shifting form. Gaseous and vague, he flickered like a black flame in a soundless wind, quivering ever so slightly as he drew Bress toward the outline of his waist to spear her on the end of his sex. The carnal sensation of taking meat and molding it to fold encompassing over his shaft earned growls from the beast, reverberations deep in his presence slipping from where lips may have been. She struggled and she whined, cooing and coiling in her meager attempt to sate his desires, but he was in no mood to rush his enjoyment. If only she bled, a broken toy in his clawed grasp. Philiadus wanted impregnation as one accustomed to living might desire and Loe wanted ruin as the memory of the old ones might demand, but both parties were contented with complete control of their hostage.

When she reached her first climax, Loe soaked in the warm gush of her enjoyment, reveling in the limp quality her body took when so exhausted. He forced a second orgasm soon after. He forced a third as she begged him to stop. By the fourth, she was crying miserably, but still, she came and he cradled her in the bed of his massive palms, feeling the strain of her muscles and the hot streaks of her tears. It wasn’t a question of whether she would regret their time together. She would. Loe didn’t care if she did. Instead, he contemplated whether he meant to keep his promise. If this union didn’t end here, could he be trusted to free her?

So small and insignificant…

His pace slowed, his monstrous jaw shifting to and fro with the grind of his barbaric canines. As his mouth eased open during a heavy pant, his tongue unfurled, slithering forth to flicker its forked tips at Bress’ pulse in an effort to catch the erratic rhythm it currently beat at. Without prompting, one of his hands slipped from her backside and the anchor bridged to his waist, trailing up her ribcage and across her supple torso and further still until his inhuman fingers gripped firmly around her neck. Leaning down so he was hovering precariously close to the demon’s portrait, Loe stared at her overwhelmed state with an intensity he couldn’t justify.

“Ask for it.”

As puzzled as she was expected to be, Bress huffed through her winded breathing, attempting to gather some semblance of composure. “…ask what?”

“For comfort. That is what you want, is it not? The illusion of comfort… of familiarity at this moment. You want to feel in control of this meeting and for that to happen, you want comfort. The assurance I am not torturing you by repeating the crimes you committed in the past, but for my own pleasure. You want to hear me praise you because if I do not do so, you will reflect on this as a violation.”

Dipping his chin so his tongue could maneuver lower, it wrapped about one of her full breasts, the obsidian appendage in sharp contrast with the woman’s ivory complexion. He was the darkness descending upon her life; a threat she couldn’t avoid. Until he was quenched of this particular thirst, Bress would be his to make use of. The frustrations bled away as he watched how she considered his words, her portrait flashing with confusion and fear before she nodded once.

“Do you believe I am enjoying myself?” Loe mused, pleased. “How would I show my enjoyment in a manner to permit you vulnerability in propinquity?”

“How do you touch something fragile?” Bress closed her eyes, tears rolling from her pale lashes as she stole what precious air she could during the ease in Loe’s pumping. “I think you know how to comfort me without me explaining what needs to be done. You’re not stupid. Just ugly and cruel- but we’re so close to Khu’chev, there’s little else to be.” Was she smiling? He couldn’t tell for sure. “Perhaps I found myself in Jannah because they’re so good at being gracious and inviting. They wanted me and I never questioned it. I just knew-”

Fingertips eased from her neck, freeing her throat from the threat of his grip. Instead, he danced his strange claws across her plump bottom lip, tracing the crescent curve in silence. She kept her mouth open because she was caught off guard and he took advantage of the opening, dipping the first digit past the threshold and atop the moist sponge of her tongue. The muscle panicked and bucked as it attempted to shy away, but he didn’t give it much choice, petting along the bed of tastebuds in a manner one might mistake for a bout of ardor.

“Carefully,” he retorted, gently ensuring she couldn’t answer, “and with great satisfaction. ”

Bress arched weakly, her thighs rubbing apprehensively at his hips, but Loe was a force beyond reason and the struggles of a lesser monstrosity were laughable. With every heave of her breasts, he lost focus, finding solace in her bouncing cunt swallowing the entirety of his cock. He meant to devour her but until he did, her warm holes were beckoning the long-forgotten feelings of dominance his host had once sought to fulfill. What manner of debauchery could be committed? Was he losing his motivations because his self-control was slipping? Every thrust was another nail in the coffin, finalizing his ultimate goal for Bress. He reached his zenith as she did something unthinkable- her lips forming a tight seal around his knuckle so she was could suck in time with his movement. To his surprise, he could come. He filled her tightened cavity to the brim and continued still, pushing more cum into the confines of her slit even as it pushed out the earliest pumps. Cum spilled from her spread hole, forced out, left to drip onto the stone below.

Kysad’s home was silent aside from the sounds of their coupling, but beyond the mountainside and into the darkness, Loe could feel Kysad and Jasa making their way closer.

Why did he feel pride in defiling Bress while occupying Kysad’s lair?

Better yet, why did he feel as if this entire situation was inevitable?

---

RE: Aeonian || In Chapters - Kat - 06-09-2021



Kysad pulled Jasa in the direction of the blur, tracking the movement as if his eyes could see nothing else. Fast as she was, she wasn’t fast enough to shake Kysad’s keen sense of smell. What sight could no longer provide, his nostrils made up the difference for. Her stench reeked of sex, of fresh semen, of the sweat mingling with her sweet and horrible cum. Jasa noticed it, too, and his features wrinkled in a way that made him appear offended.

It wasn’t just sex, but a mark of sorts. A statement.

“Who did you fuck in my home?!” Kysad bellowed, feeling his anger rush to the surface so even this minor detail became exponentially bothersome. The cave in which he made his home, a place which proved sanctum in the darkest days of Nod, had been defiled. Worse, he didn’t even get to participate in the defilement. Widened nostrils snorted his displeasure as he carefully relinquished his hold on the Ifrit so not to harm the other fellow’s upper arm.

“Hardly my fault!” Bress’s voice bounced high and low, echoing through the cavernous space. It mocked him. No matter how innocent and beautiful and beguiling Bress may have appeared, she was a demon unlike any other. Even now, he was considering all the ways he meant to hurt her; smothered or skinned or stabbed or shot or sizzled or-

“It was Loe’s fault!”

Did she read his mind? In this massive show of disrespect, he thought there was little else she could do to wound him further, but to cite the name of one he considered… well, not so much a friend as a very strange acquaintance, but it remained the same in principle!

“Why did you stay?” Jasa asked to the lurching darkness, his features craned like he meant to study the furthest reaches of the high ceiling. “Have you no shame?”

Kysad hadn’t intended to laugh, but it came out anyway, genuine. “Boy, you speak with Bress. If she had any shame, she sold it for seconds at the all you can fuck buffet.”

“Buffet?” Jasa turned to Kysad with a snap, causing the trickling lava from his perpetually bleeding maw to dribble onto the floor. The rockbed hissed, indents left in the lava’s wake. “Sorry,” he added immediately, but Kysad waved it off.

“Forget it,” the demon said to both the question and the apology.

“I came to see you, Kysad,” the spectral presence of Bress sang, rich with mirth and vigor. “I thought you would be looooonely-”

“Silence yourself, you selfish cunt!” Exasperated with the mere thought of Bress wanting to see him, Kysad stomped to a high-backed throne of a chair and haughtily seated himself. He beckoned Jasa to follow, and the poor fellow did just that, sitting on Kysad’d knee like a miserable wretch trying to earn his keep. Were Kysad not so furious at the state of affairs, he would have taken advantage of Jasa’s willingness to please.

Jasa may very well have read his mind, much to his dismay, when he said rather plainly, “Bress must be punished.”

This wasn’t beyond the demon. If anything, it was in the exact line of thinking Kysad was letting his mind untangle, and it brought a cruel smile to his lips.

“Bress, you need something. I know you do.” That wicked look of sheer enjoyment remained firm on his countenance, a constant mystery for Jasa to stare at. “It comes at a price, Bress- you know this. You know exactly what I expect. You know the toll you need to pay.”

Perhaps she had grown tired of her attempts at hiding because, in a manner of speaking, she was summoned to the open expanse of room stretched between Kysad and the cavern’s opening.

“Oh, I know good and well what you expect, you disgusting parasite.”

Nude in her radiance, she beamed with an ethereal glow that existed in stark opposition to the darkness flooding the cave. Her pale locks fell in loose curls, parting not only at her crown, but around the ram-like horns positioned neatly above her ears. Her hooves were missing, however, replaced by clawed toes, not unlike that of a human.

“But you haven’t listened to my proposal yet so I have no obligation to offer flesh.” Blinking her lashes, she sniffed in mock offense. “I have come so far, and what do you do? You treat me like this? How am I to blame when it was clearly Loe’s advances that offended you?”

For emphasis (or to further her cruelty), Bress pointed a clawed finger toward the clear drip of excitement currently decorating her inner thigh. “Loe did this and, if you could, you should refrain from passing judgment on a victim such as myself. I was utterly helpless in his possession, so absolutely fearful for my life that-”

“For the love of all there is, stop talking.” Running his own hand up Jasa’s spine, tentatively exploring the muscles in the Ifrit’s back, Kysad asked, “Is he still here?”

Bress appeared thoughtful for a moment, considering the question. Then, in her usual way, she responded with a question of her own.

“Is your pet someone you intended to share with me?” Padding closer to the two men, Bress barely stood tall enough to meet the seated demon’s gaze, but her lack of height made it very easy to wrap her hand around Jasa’s already stiffening length, made wholly possible by the pale femme's impractical display. “He’s not very well trained, Kysad. Look at him; practically drooling with excitement and the game hasn’t even started.”

“This isn’t a game,” but his insistence didn’t change how familiar this felt. The only difference between his last meeting with Bress and his current one was the Ifrit in the middle.

“And he’s not my pet. He’s an emissary from Jannah. He’s…” Clenching his jaw as he caught the stroking motion Bress made over Jasa’s cock, Kysad was doing everything in his power not to internalize whatever furious lust was likely to spring from her teasing. It wasn’t even his appendage, but he watched with morbid curiosity, temporarily stunned.

“He’s what?” Narrowing her sights on Jasa’s quivering features, Bress studied them while her hand continued pumping with minimal effort, coaxing the Ifrit’s shaft to swell with need. “He looks familiar but I can’t place it. Is he…? Hm. Give me a moment. It might come back to me.”

“One of your soon-to-be husband’s men.” Kysad’s knee began to bounce uneasily, gently moving in time with Bress’s hand so every stroke she made was mirrored by Jasa’s seat.

“Did I fuck him?”

“He said you did. Jasa, please feel free to speak up at any point.” Kysad’s discomfort now extended to his erection as it hung in pulsing wait along his thigh. So much for self-control.

Jasa said nothing; did nothing. Bress took this as consent to continue even as precum oozed over her dainty digits.

“Well, this information means nothing to me. My dilemma does involve Jannah, obviously, but the Ifrit isn't required to leave as this particular predicament isn’t a secret. His being here, forgettable or otherwise, changes nothing. Also, a friend of yours is always welcome. As it is now, his eagerness might make our exchange easier on both of our egos. He acts as a, hm- buffer between us, which might prove… helpful.” Bress, while still keeping Jasa’s cock captive in her grasp, leaned around the Ifrit to plant a (mostly) chaste kiss on Kysad’s lips. It took her standing on her tippy toes to do so.

“There’s no shame in admitting defeat.”

“You fucking bitch.” He kissed her back so hard, he thought he tasted blood. “I’m getting what I want and you’re going to take everything you deserve-”

When she pulled away, her pale lips wore the crimson of an open wound, her bottom tier split. She didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s so good to be home.”

---