The twenty-first sun of the first astral moon, year of the Scholar, the sixth astral age.
I was sent to the Smiths for an assessment of my training. After a day spent practicing the techniques taught by Luciane over the last several moons, I was passed and sent on to an outfitter who ensured I was equipped for a trek into the unknown. My initial concerns of finding a party seem silly now, given the Smiths' system of pairing off new adventurers with more experienced partners. By the evening, I had met those who would be traveling with me. A weathered Duskwright by the name of Bastionne, a Lalafell named Corria Sorria, and a very shy Highlander who dwarfed the rest of us who went by the title of Rock. I didn't converse with my party long, but I wouldn't have been capable of pulling together such a coordinated group without the aid of the Smiths, and for that, I'm grateful for the assistance.
Tau warned me that I may not like adventuring, but I've assured him it's not about liking what I do. It's about doing what's right for Eorzea. We have Garleans pushing our borders and unknown mysteries within the nations that make up the alliance of Grand Companies. Without adventurers, all these problems would be left unchecked.
The twenty-fifth sun of the first astral moon, year of the Scholar, the sixth astral age.
Where did all this blood come from? Was this her blood? It was in her eyes, coating her features in tacky, warm crimson...
Blinded, she screamed.
The twenty-second sun of the first astral moon, year of the Scholar, the sixth astral age.
Supply shopping was done last minute; we collected anything we could think we might need. From rope to mining equipment, and anything related to survival tonics. Potions, poultices, bandages, and splints. My bag threatened to split at the seams, but Bastionne promised it was better to over pack than to under pack for a journey. It's hard to argue with his logic, and give how frequently he boasted of his past escapades, I'm inclined to follow his lead. Corria only speaks of Eastern Thanalan, and while I wish to speak of it with her, I know it will only make me upset to think of those I left behind. Even so early, I miss my father. Adding more people to the list in my heart won't do any good for the expedition.
For the night, we're staying in Quarry Mill, and my party is content to speak with the locals. All the gossip of the underground ruins hints that those adventurers stupid enough to explore them got what they deserved. A humbling thought, but one that reminds me why I'm here. To do what no one else wishes to do. If it were easy, everyone would already have done it.
The fifth sun of the second astral moon, year of the lover, the sixth astral age.
Xeii's back arched, her fingers groping helplessly against the tension in her companion's chest. His hands possessed her hips, digits digging into the meat of her sides as he guided her ever so slowly down the shaft of his cock. Her spread warmth shivered, the lips of her sex peeled apart to accommodate each forceful thrust at a pace she wasn't used to. He was coaxing her, testing her patience while wearing a familiar smirk, and she could only writhe and tighten anxiously, her breasts and torso slick with a sheen of sweat.
"What's the matter, Kitten?" Somehow, Khan purred between his throatier noises of contentment, fighting the needy muscles squeezing all the way from the head of his manhood to the base. Each push demanded the shapely figure in his lap to relegate, to mold and to shape to his needs. He could watch her struggle for hours at a time, testing his own limits just to finish their game, but he never truly tired of the futility. Xeii would fight him, but in the end, her struggling only made her submission that much sweeter. "I know you are close, so..." He pulled her closer, his arms wrapped around the back of her spine just above the flickering of her tail. "Come for your Nunh."
"I-I-" Full lips parted, her mouth a hairs width away from his as she gasped and rocked in his lap to swallow his entirety, straining the walls of her slick cunt to take every throbbing inch. She couldn't help herself as she jerked back suddenly, causing her lower torso to twist and lock as she milked his girth with undulations of ecstasy. Her words had become moans, low and long and wanton as she was kept captive in his embrace during her climax. She couldn't even look away as her batting lashes continued to show that arrogance and pride W'khan Nunh was known for. Even then, he wouldn't finish, instead keeping that firm pace so she was left vulnerable and on display for her superior.
"What a good girl you've been... But we're not done. Not yet."
The seventh sun of the second astral moon, year of the lover, the sixth astral age.
"You can't love him." W'marai stated simply, sipping her sweet tea across from Xeii. "Not when it's his position that you are in love with. He has power, and you want power."
"I don't believe it to be so simple," W'xeii admitted softly before casting her sights toward the tribe, where huts and tents and stalls all seemed to blur with the drifts of red sand rising in the air. "It doesn't have anything to do with power."
"Easy to say when you believe yourself favored by such a powerful figure, yes? Go to him now, and see him with others, and tell me it is love. No, W'xeii. This is business. Business done for the health of the tribe, and you will do the same as your mother did, and you will raise a clan within the tribe. Perhaps they will be sired by W'khan. Perhaps by another Nunh. That shouldn't matter to you." W'marai offered a small nod before adding, "Remember your parents. Remember W'tau's admission of love to your mother. See what became of love between them... Bitterness."
The fourth sun of the fourth astral moon, year of the matron, the sixth astral age.
W'xeii, at 16, watched her family torn apart by the laws of the tribe.
"Get your hands off of me!" W'Tau Nunh bitterly growled, thrashing at the surrounding Tia attempting to pull him from his family home. "I have given everything to this Tribe! Leave me to her!"
W'anya, with tears in her eyes, stood silently shielding her eleven children sired by W'tau. Her body blocked the narrow hall leading from their respective chambers to the open entry of the home, but W'xeii could see how defiantly her father fought as he was once more pressed to sire more children.
"You have this duty until you are defeated, W'tau- You need to do this for the good of the tribe!" A Tia spoke, but earned only a violent smack from the elder Nunh as though what was said was insult and nothing more.
"I will renounce this title if that is what it takes, but I will never betray my family again! RELEASE ME!"
W'xeii was crying as she backed away from her huddling siblings all looking on past the wall their mother created. She didn't understand why she cried.
The twenty-third sun of the first astral moon, year of the Scholar, the sixth astral age.
We're on the road to the dig site, and I have little time to write as we ride, but the air smells foul in this part of the Shroud. I'm concerned by my colleagues as well, as they say less and less the closer we are to our destination. Is this silence normal? It feels surreal to me. I've never known this sense of foreboding, but it remains and persists by the bell.
I never made amends with the past, so I pray to Azeyma this isn't the last nights I spend under this overcast. If I'm to die, I wish to die somewhere the sun shines strongly so the Goddess may take me easily.
The twenty-fourth sun of the first astral moon, year of the Scholar, the sixth astral age.
[This page, or several pages, have been ripped from W'xeii Tau's journal, replaced with only the word GONE.]
The twenty-sixth sun of the first astral moon, year of the Scholar, the sixth astral age.
W'xeii awoke surrounded by the healers of the Smiths, their familiar banners covering the inside of the tent where she lay hospitalized. Scrapes and cuts were covered in salve, her clothing replaced by a simple hempen gown to allow the superficial injuries time to heal. Blinking hazily, she struggled to keep from falling back to sleep, and through sore vocals, she managed to ask in a whispered, "I-is it.. over?"
The closest clerical worker, a portly White Mage, nodded her head. "You're going to be just fine, but you need to rest. Close your eyes, child, and go back to sleep-"
"...But the others."
"Just sleep."
The fourth sun of the first umbral moon, year of the Scholar, the sixth astral age.
They told her it would leave a scar, and sure enough, the slash across the bridge of her nose was visible even after the rest of her body had made a full recovery. Idly, she rubbed the pad of her thumb over the damaged tissue, tracing the line while her golden hues searched the outskirts of her camp uneasily. She hadn't returned to Gridania. She hadn't even decided if she should be in the Black Shroud after the disgrace of her expedition, but without a home of her own, she hadn't much choice but to skirt civilization and weather the potential storm of her shame. She knew it wasn't her fault. Bastionne bringing explosives was his mistake, and the fire from Corria's spells was inevitable. She was a Black Mage.
Rock was the first to die, crushed unceremoniously beneath the rubble. Corria soon followed, but to a beast deep in the undead palace. It found her trying to get back to the surface, and it finished her as quickly as it was given chance to. Bastionne, our healer, consulted his cards for hours before determining he and I would need to travel swiftly south. I don't remember what happened to me to incapacitate me, but when I awoke, I was splattered in Elezen blood. I live by Azeyma's grace and that alone.
Staring vacantly into the fire pit, Xeii's lips quivered miserably as slow tears dripped over the pages of her journal. The book was in disarray, pages bent and bloodied and burned, but she had no other outlet but to write, and in the cool evening silence, she secretly hoped the world would just swallow her in her loneliness if only to ease the pain. She was apologetic for faults that weren't hers, where no one could witness this self doubt. Nothing was shared. Only the somber and eerie mists of the nighttime Shroud, with the great beasts hidden in the darkness beyond range of the campfire. She closed the journal and ushered a miserable sigh before bedding down for the night.
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
Vespertine [closed] - by Kat - 05-27-2017, 03:38 PM
RE: Vespertine [closed] - by Kat - 05-27-2017, 05:35 PM
RE: Vespertine [closed] - by Scoot - 05-30-2017, 01:09 AM
RE: Vespertine [closed] - by Kat - 05-31-2017, 10:42 PM
RE: Vespertine [closed] - by Scoot - 06-03-2017, 02:07 AM
RE: Vespertine [closed] - by Kat - 07-15-2017, 02:47 PM
RE: Vespertine [closed] - by Scoot - 08-14-2017, 02:55 AM