For those of you who follow for the lemons, this is a proper story. Like seriously. I mean there's a very good lemon in there, but I did say in my previous story updates that this'd be a proper story, more for myself than my readers, but I hope you, my readers, enjoy it anyway.
If you want a proper lemon, please check out my profile for my other work (Just one other at the minute, more will come slowly)
And lastly, thank you for all the reviews on my previous work. Yeah, I agree there is a lot I could've improved on. Character is a big thing that I need to improve on. As I thought, It kinda fizzled towards the end as the character personality didn't fit (It did change too much I feel) and there could be more on the main character. Hopefully this piece of work shows me trying to improve on it. And the ending should've… fitted more.
Anyway, thank you all my readers and reviewers, Caravere, DJ Creeper, DigitalCypher, Jukemaster18, Killerguntop, Lumminate264, Nachtshadow, Nguyen Nguyen, Redwig, SecretPie, Suksan, TheFallenGeneral, The Limit of Force, Waddlebuff, navydiva, AdiposeSnorlax, BeartheLink, Dracobro, JcL107, MuffinMurf, Regicy45, Roamin12, Yordekaiser, savitar94, davda, leoryzap, dovabear12, Yuji23, Mozer121, Sherixoxo and RazorC (I see you there). I do this for you guys. I hope you enjoy my work and have as much fun reading it as I have writing it. You guys are awesome, join the community to get your name in the list
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For those who've loved and lost
And in honour of Terry Pratchett
Forever Together, Forever Apart
2 cannot so easily dote on 1
Blood.
The water in the street rippled as it turned red slowly, clouds of crimson, expanding insides the puddles as the rain diluted the draining life that was spilling onto the pavement. The water splashed aside as cloth now entered the puddle, leaking even more crimson into the water as the shade fought between red and colourless. The rain lashed down upon the puddle creating endless ripples in it the water ran down the street, trickling, winding downwards into the gurgling drain that sucked the red from the puddle as it overflowed. Suddenly, a hand smashed down into the puddle, water crashing across the pavement as it scrabbled to grab hold of something, anything. It caught an edge, and slowly, became still in the cold water.
Blood.
The red ran down the white walls and slid off the cobbled pavements, the rain slowly washing it away as it entered the puddle slowly and like the rest, drained away. Yet more flowed from the body a while away from the white walls. It slid forwards slowly, but it was losing speed and distance. What little it was making as it scraped along the floor, face flat against the pavement with its nose roughly bumping along the cobblestone(cobbles). But it stopped. It could've kept going a little longer, yet it stopped. The face turned slowly, resting its right ear against the pavement.
Blood.
It wasn't a sound. It was a feeling, the sort of feeling where your ears hum or roar, where it is the movement of the air that changes, not the sounds. You felt the sound through your senses. But you heard it, your body couldn't comprehend feeling a sound. It was the feeling of steps. Someone walking, slowly, but deliberately. The air shimmered and the rain seemed to cut out to the face. It was the same when you hunted, the sounds were… still there, you just didn't hear them. Birds tweeted, the leaves rustled and susurrus happened, but the world cut out.
As did the rain, the cold, and steadily, its life.
A shimmer in the air appeared before its eyes. It made out a boot. The detail was lost; it could never really be accurate with shimmering air. The rain lashed through it, splattering in front of the face. Then it felt… it speaking. 'Body, strong. Mind, equally strong. Dying. Perfect to take over. It appears to be able to sense me, and is also not buried, a great advantage,'
The air shimmered again, and the face made out something, sitting down cross-legged in front of its eyes. This time, it spoke aloud, sounding like rumbling thunder.
'I will be by your side, until you die,'
Whatever it was, stared at the face. The face stared back.
'I… refuse,'
It was nothing more than a whisper. But it was heard clearly through the rain.
'I will not die here,'
The voice was growing stronger. The hand in the puddle curled into a fist, grabbed a cobble and pull itself forward a foot. A leg moved up, the sole of the foot scraping against the stone, dragging mud and blood along the ground.
'I will survive!'
A cough. Then a collapse. Arms, giving way, strength leaving the sprawling body.
I cannot die here, not yet.
The rain lashed relentlessly down onto the body. Blood now only trickled away slowly, the amount decreasing as it poured through the cracks of the cobbles. Its breath became ragged, barely a wheeze heard through the rain. It was just the rain. The presence seemed to have disappeared, good news if any at this point. Just the rain. And the cold. And the wet. The body chuckled weakly with its cynical sense of humour at nothing in particular.
Just the rain.
Just the rain.
And the splashes.
And the voice.
The cry out.
And a feather.
No.
It was just the rain.
Something wasn't right. He couldn't feel anything. Couldn't feel the air, couldn't feel his hands, or muscles that he was trying to move. He couldn't feel the pain either. Weird. Smell? No. Touch, well obviously not. Taste….that didn't really apply here…. Well at least he wasn't tasting copper. Sound? He heard a bird chirping. Sight? Nope. Just whiteness. He sighed. Then realized he could sigh. Well it was a start. Oh. The pain. Of course.
A loud swearing yell was heard throughout the halls as its newest resident fell out of bed clutching his bloody side as blood poured through the bandages. The pristine white walls and bed sheets were splattered in red as the man clutched the metal bars at the end of his bed as he struggled to get up, his senses overloading his head. The room flashed and curved around in front of his eyes as he looked around wildly, his hair covering his eyes. Bed, white. Ceiling, white. Walls, white. Uniforms, white. Beds. Many beds. Wait, uniforms?
He flung his head around to look blearily at those in those white uniforms. They were surrounding him. The feeling, the weight, the pressure filled the room. He was going to be trapped here. He had to get out. The ring around him closed. No escape, six of them. He would have to fight his way out. What was…. Oh…
Pain filled his senses as the metaphorical water dripped onto the stone. His mind clicked. Then a small "thunk" was heard as he gradually dropped face first onto the mattress. The people in the uniform surrounded him as blackness started covering up the whiteness. His breath went out, and so did his vision of the white sheets as he very slowly fainted. But he heard on the edge of his hearing before it all stopped, the small clunk of someone dropping a club. Well… they could've been a little softer he thought as he drifted off.
This time, the first thing he noticed was the pain. Well, at least he could get over it quicker.
The loud groan admitted from the now infamous hospital bed signaled for a nurse and two guards, one of them holding a thick wooden and quite evil looking club to walk over to the bed carefully. This was of great amusement to the other bedridden patients as they watched, many struggling sitting up in their beds to see the new situation. Not much seemed to happen, most of them were alone and had trouble with their injuries, so any chaos was good chaos. The guards and nurse wore practically the same uniform, only the clipboard and the club really told you the difference of who was here to help and who was here to make sure you didn't move. You had to be careful in the places where it was reversed.
The pencil head hitting his face made him question whether this was one of those places as the man holding it looked at him expectantly. He blinked and looked through slitted eyes at the nurse with the clipboard. Tall, built but with podgy fingers that gripped the pencil quite hard. His hair was dark, shaggy, and it really looked like he should have a big bushy beard. The guards, both had short hair, blond, built around the same with almost the same height. And both had painted fingernails he noted as he looked at the hand holding the club. The man of the duo was flicking his eyes towards his fingernails often though. His eyes adjusted and opened a bit more as he stared at the club. "Sweet dreams," the club seemed to whisper to him.
A cough signaled him to look back at the nurse with the clipboard. He could see the other patients grinning out of the corner of his eye.
'Name?' The voice was stern, like a teacher who was disappointed permanently.
He coughed up a combination of left over blood and saliva and tried to sit up. The nurse held the clipboard up as the guards too a step forwards. He spat out what remained and grinned up at them.
'Faerdir. Do you treat all your patients this way?'
The nurse raised his very thick black eyebrow and regarded him with a cold stare.
'Only when it helps heal a patient,' He said, only his mouth moving as they stared at one another, each unwilling to lose.
'You mean bludgeoning their head?' Faerdir still grinned disarmingly. Well at least this nurse was funny.
'Yes, you clearly had something wrong with your head at the time,' Faerdir swore he could've seen the smallest of winks, but the cold demeanour remained, the raptly snappish voice continued 'You'll be released from our custody in three days, your wounds are healing a lot faster than expected, something maybe… unique?' Faerdir shrugged and the nurse nodded. 'Very well, you were out for two days after your outburst here,' A very clipped tone said that sentence 'You appear to be from out of town so that is all. Don't try to cause anymore fuss please, the fact you're in this ward should tell you how over stocked we are with patients,'
He sighed a tired sigh and walked between the two guards out of the room, the two guards stared at him for a small while then turned and walked smartly out of the room. The two large arch doors slowly closed behind them with no sound, leaving the room in a mysterious silence. Faerdir felt his side. It was clean, new bandages clearly. The pain was definitely still there but it appeared sleep had indeed helped. He looked up and around the room. All the patients seemed to be holding their breath
A laughing cackle came from the bed next to him and all of a sudden the room sprang into life. Men and women got down off their beds and into wheelchairs or picked up crutches and started making their way over to his bed, surrounding him. He pushed up back against the headboard of bed as a bunch of smiling faces filled his world.
He raised an eyebrow 'Hello?'
'Welcome!' The voice had a sense of grandeur, as if he's won something. 'To our humble abode,' The old man in the bed next to him winked 'Ah don't worry, it's what we do to freak every new person here out,'
He looked in quite good nick strangely as he slowly turned and got out of his bed covers, sitting on the edge of the bed. He had no left arm. Faerdir blinked. And looked around again. All of them looked fine… some of them had bits of them that were missing but they all looked fine. No legs, only one arm, no hands. A lot of them also had everything they could ask for though. He turned back to the old man.
'Caught on have you?' He asked, smiling at him. Several teeth glinted. He wore what the rest of them wore, just a baggy gray t-shirt and blue and white striped pyjama bottoms.
'A warrior's ward?' Faerdir asked, sitting up a bit straighter, wincing as his side convulsed.
'An «indisposed» ward, as they put it,' He held out his only hand. 'Rashakk,'
'Faerdir,' He took the hand and shook it, the old man's muscles rippled slightly as their hands grasped the other 'So all of you are in here permanently?'
'Oh shut up will you!' Rashakk's fingers clipped his forehead in a swinging swipe sending back against headboard 'Go on you lot, have your fun,' he shouted to the crowd.
Faerdir had a second to turn before the first child hit him straight in the chest. The kids, three of them, were each trying to find their own space on his bed which resulted in him getting kicked a lot. They prodded and pinched and made sure he wasn't going to be comfortable. Then the older ones came. Questions upon questions upon questions. Clearly his afternoon would be busy.
She sighed as she walked in through the door to her apartment. The door closed silently as she leant back against it. She slid down the door, slowly, to the floor landing on her bottom.
Holiday was what they called it. She had been asked to pull out of Bilgewater as the rioting that took place after Gangplank's supposed death was considered too dangerous. And the Harrowing was on its way soon. It was preparation time. Thankfully the Spirit of Vengeance did not favour either side so her arrival last year didn't cost them too much.
She hung her head down, reached up behind her, pulled her makeshift hairband out and pulled her helmet off. She let her long hair roll and unfurl down her back and slumped back against the door again, sighing softly as she cast over the room she hardly visited.
The apartment was lightly furnished, but the quality was divine. It left a very simple look to the place, not that she needed much. The table and chairs by the window combined a small kitchen for her food. It was small but cozy. There was only four rooms in total, including the gracious upstairs bathroom connected to the bedroom. Being on the top floor of the building she got a view of all of Demacia. Well, 'building' wasn't really it. The Dynasty Court was where she was. All the nobles lived here. Which meant either it was a reward for her, or the nobles wanted bodyguards.
But for now, it was holiday time.
She wondered what people did on a holiday.
She stood up and unclipped all the straps holding her armour and cloaking in place, letting them all drop to the floor with a loud clunk. That was a start, surely?
Okay, bath first. She walked through the bedroom, taking off and throwing her lightweight thermal undershirt onto the bed. The thin thermal leggings soon followed. She passed a mirror on her way to the bathroom and had to walk back to it too look at herself again. She really needed to have her haircut. Okay, so from now on, when hair gets too long you stop until you have it cut, she told herself.
It was practical as well, she mused as she walked up to the bathroom. Having it to her mid back meant she had to tie it up all the time and it got in the way. She turned on the baths taps and stood beside it, breathing in and out slowly, the calmness of no responsibilities washing over her. The bathroom filled with steam quite quickly, before the bath had even filled halfway. Water stuck to the pristine white walls. She had to wipe down the mirror as she stood in front of it; condensation making beads of water appear out of nowhere.
She reached back slowly, breathed in and unwrapped the bandages around her breasts. She carefully breathed out as each layer of bandage came off, at last, allowing her breasts to expand outwards to their original size. She sucked in air through her nose, watching them rise and fall in the mirror. She was glad she had the bandages; they were an absolute pain when they got in the way on a mission. Moreover, she was glad she could compress them under her armour and camouflage, they were big enough as they were, if she was Sona she had probably be falling over.
She put her hands over them and squeezed them softly. She shrugged and let go of them again. Maybe she should go clothes shopping. Isn't that what women do? Perhaps she should treat herself and actually get something her size. It wasn't like she was going to be home for long. What was the point? Someone like her had no need for it. When would she go out?
She heard a loud banging against the front down. Quickly and stealthily, she ran into her bedroom, whipped on a t-shirt and snuck low to the door, slowly coming up and looking through the peephole. It was Mrs. Buvelle. She sighed and unlocked the door lazily, opening it and standing imposingly in the doorway.
'Yes?'
'Oh Quinn dear, you must simply tell me about this man you picked up a couple of nights ago,'
Quinn slammed the door in her face without a second's hesitation. She turned on her heel and stormed up to the bathroom tossing off the t-shirt onto the bed, making a 'whump' as it hit the pillows. She could not deal with Mrs. Buvelle. Hiding in enemy cities and strongholds, taking out assassins and fighting her way out of corners, sure. Talking to an upper class noblewoman, forget it.
Bath. Now.
The Buvelles, later.
Faerdir yawned and looked in the mirror. Dark stubble was forming again. Whatever, it was at a length he liked. He shifted his long curly hair out of his eyes and stared again at himself.
His face was still the same. That weird mix of angled bones in a soft face, as if his genes hadn't completely thought out what they were doing. His ears were stuck on each side of his head like radar dishes and he was certain that his face looked gaunter recently. He looked at his chest. He was now topless, one of the children had decided his bed was a bouncy castle and as fate would have it she landed right on his wound. Pff, fate. It was bound to happen. Just my luck.
They had replaced the bandages themselves; there were two previous medics within the group who had helped him, although it didn't fill him with confidence when one was missing a hand due to an «accident». Lean, but not as much muscle as he wanted. He sighed at his inability to bulk up and rubbed the injury. It was always itchy. Tattoos curved up his arms, leading all the way to his shoulders. The wispy lines slowly curved around his arms, dancing gracefully over the muscle. He stretched out, his body stiff from sitting in bed all day, and reached out for the drawer.
'Never thought I'd see another one in here that's for sure,'
Faerdir's hand stopped. Fingers curled in slowly. His arm went down to his side. He turned around slowly.
Rashakk sat on his bed, a pipe in his mouth and a knowing look in his eye. His gray hair was brushed this time, splitting down the middle and over his ears.
Faerdir stared back at him then, not breaking eye contact, sat down on his bed opposite him putting his hands on his thighs.
Rashakk's look hadn't changed. He blew a smoke ring into the air above them.
'It's the only thing I really took too from the stinking rich pricks of this land. A finer way to smoke, I chewed tobacco for so long I thought maybe it's time to put it to good use. You smoke?' He tapped the pipe gently and blew a smaller smoke ring out.
'No,'
'Shame,' Rashakk pulled his legs up and sat cross-legged. His eyes never left Faerdir's face. 'I guess you wouldn't get much time to smoke, would you, Hunter?'
Faerdir blinked. Then went for broke. He sighed. 'So how'd you know?'
Rashakk laughed a roaring laugh and the atmosphere flipped from being chilly to roaringly warm 'Boy, I am one of you!'
The old man go up, turned around, and with some difficulty pulled off his shirt.
Inscribed in dark lines covering his entire muscled back, a Kraken. It's slimy head near the base of his neck as the tentacles stretched outwards, some wrapping around each other, others crossing over and under others, and then at the base of his back, the Hunter's sigil. Faerdir looked around and sighed a small sigh of relief. Nobody had woken up. Only moonlight shone through the windows of the ward now. The arch doors had been locked for 'safety reasons', which meant they were there to stop them from escaping early. Night had encapsulated the room quickly and the two hunters were alone, in a silent room. With the occasional snore.
Rashakk had turned around. 'Your turn, I want to get a proper look at the bloody thing you had done,'
Faerdir nodded and turned around, staring down at his arms. He followed the tattoos leading up his arms to his shoulders. He shivered slightly when the old man started tracing. The tattoos went over his shoulders and connected to his tattoo on his back. The Yggdrasil tree stretched out across his back, tiny drawings of animals were at the end of every branch as it's roots stretched down to the base of his back before reaching the Hunter's Sigil. The slap on the back was pretty hard.
'Go on, turn back around, and you can drop that happy go lucky attitude, it makes me sick in the throat when you're faking it,' Rashakk growled.
'What about when I'm not?' asked Faerdir, turning around and sitting on the bed again.
Rashakk regarded him with a searching stare. 'well everyone's got a piece of themselves they don't want others to see. But you boy, have a lot to hide it seems,'
Faerdir laughed at the stare he was giving him. 'And you don't?' The old man laughed with him and they both leant back on their beds, watching one another.
'So how'd you end up here? I thought the sea corps tradition meant you died out at sea?'
'Huh, I ain't no real Hunter anymore boy, I look after people now,'
'Others like you?' He nodded towards the empty place next to his shoulder.
'Hm, aye, mostly,' He sighed and then smiled a shiny smile at him. 'Welcome to the family, although your stay is short,'
Faerdir leant back and put his hands behind his head. 'Good to be here. So when are you getting out, old man?'
'I'm not,'
Faerdir raised an eyebrow and looked across at him from the comfortable, white pillows. Rashakk stared at the ceiling, his hand on his stomach as he too lay back against the pillows. A small smile graced his lips as he closed his eyes.
'This is my prison sentence, my… rehabilitation,'
Faerdir stayed silent for some time. Then:
'Your redemption you lying sod. It's like you said, we all have our day face, and our real face,'
Tears were running downwards, over the skin of the wrinkled cheeks. Rashakk was still smiling.
'There's only me left boy. When they caught us, there was nothing we could do. Gangplank had no more use for us. That dog forced us between his armada and the Demacian one. Our crew slaughtered his crew, and his crew slaughtered ours. Once the captain went down, I faced him. I fought him back, blew that damn orange and gun out of his hand, but he took my arm and kicked me back,' His voice getting hoarse as he recited the day with damned perfect clarity. 'I was on the floor, only one arm to help me get up as he went to retrieve his gun with with the only two fingers he had left on his hand,'
He sobbed and Faerdir put an arm around him, suddenly appearing in front of Rashakk. He grinned through the tears and hugged back.
'I woke up here, detailing I was a prisoner. I managed to find out the rest of the sea corps have since moved into hiding in Bilgewater and Ionia. But my mates are dead, all dead. Only I survived, picked up by Demacian ships as the scoured through the wreckage,' His smiled wavered through his tears as his hand thumped against Faerdir's back. 'Why me boy? Why didn't I die?!'
Why didn't you die!?
Forced down every alleyway, no place in. The entity slammed against walls as the streets filled with water. It never stopped raining here. The patter of never ending rain filled its ears, filled the world
It had have to wait. It's rage could build. Rage at this world. It wasn't vengeance, it was pure boiling rage. Standing in the rain, it turned down it's rage, slowly, to a simmer.
It drew nearer to a window and looked in, wiping at the window as it steamed up. Water cascaded over the rooftops.
It would control this place.
It would.
Rashakk coughed some more. And some more. And some more. Faerdir doubted he would get any sleep tonight. Partly because of the stories. The stories were vivid, too vivid to forget. But mostly cause Rashakk had used his sheets to wipe his eyes. He coughed again and wiped his eyes as Faerdir rubbed his back and gave him more sheet. He was never good in this sort of situation. Mostly because it had happened before and he knew not to say the stupid things like 'it's alright', or 'it's going to be fine', that was a good one. He breathed deeply and simply hugged Rashakk closer to his chest who mumbled something incoherent.
He nodded and rested his head on top of his.
He got punched in the stomach.
'I said I was fine and you could let go now, bloody deaf you are,'
Faerdir nodded and rested a hand on his stomach, curling over, breathing slowly 'Hold back next time please,'
Rashakk raised an eyebrow 'No,'
'Yeah, guessed as much,'
He pointed at the opposite bed and pushed him off his bed 'Get on it boy. Soppy time is over,'
Faerdir grabbed the sheets from the cold tiled floor and pulled himself up onto the bed slowly until his face was in the duvet. He groaned into it and rolled over, clutching his side, closing his eyes. Images of the ships and the battle swam in front of his eyes. Raged boiled within him. Brothers they were, protectors of people, hunting down the creatures that hurt them. Were these men man, or creature? What was he at this point?
'Oi lad, you also got yourself a letter,' Rashakk said gruffly, the sound of a match striking off next to him.
Faerdir raised an eyebrow. 'From who?'
'The girl who brought you here. Quiet she was, you got a visit from her when you were out cold. Not that she stopped long.' The pipe in his mouth made a small puffing sound and Rashakk stared the now bedridden boy. There was still one thing.
'Why're you here Faerdir?'
Faerdir turned a bit to look at him. They stared at each other, eye to eye. Clearly something he didn't want to talk about, yet he would have to eventually. Might as well talk about it with another hunter. The boy didn't lie, Rashakk was sure of that. He just never told you the entire damn story. Feeling up to it or not, he was the older here.
'I'm on probation,' Faerdir muttered into the white fabric.
Rashakk laughed shortly, breathed in, and then stopped. His face formed a small grin. It was amusing, as much as it was annoying for any Hunter who was on probation. But he wasn't so much a dick he had keep on laughing. He raised an eyebrow.
'What for…?'
Hearing a seaman being coy really pissed off Faerdir. Just the tone did not the voice. 'I let the tree get scratched,'
Rashakk's second eyebrow raised and met it's brother. 'Scratched?'
Faerdir was clearly avoiding his eyes. It looked silly at this point, his face pushing its way further down into the bedsheets. It probably wasn't embarrassing, just annoying.
'A couple of branches might've been torn off by a creature,' Came a muffled reply out of the sheets. His fists were curled by his side. If he had nails he had be drawing blood by now. No, it was not only embarrassing, but probably one of the biggest shames he ever had. Rashakk leant back and puffed on his pipe. The kid was no amateur; the tattoo on his back told him so. The more tattoo you had the more accomplished you were in the forest corps. The seamen kept everything under the Kraken, their biggest foe, once said to clash with Baron Nashor when he left the river. Yet what had cause him to let it happen? He sighed and shook his head. No, no point pressing him any further. He would explain himself. Pressuring him wouldn't do much good.
Rashakk stared at the laid out human on the bed. He almost felt sympathetic. He puffed a smoke ring, then turned the next one into a ship of smoke, which sailed through the first smoke ring. He smiled at his little creation, watching it disappear as it went towards the ceiling. 'You gonna at least open your letter kid?'
Faerdir turned his head up to look at him, his arms coming and hugging around a pillow. 'I'm not in the mood to think about women,'
Rashakk chuckled. 'She's no woman boy, she's a fighter if I've ever seen one. And you never know, tides always turn,' He gave him a humongous cheesy wink and laughed, shaking his bed.
Faerdir groaned and dug his head back into the pristine white sheets, muffling the laughs. He glanced up and noticed the letter on his bedside table. He sighed, then regretted sighing.
Thanks to her, he was alive.
'Quinn dear!'
Quinn's eyes shot open in shock as Mrs. Buvelle addressed her, glaring at her as she woke from her snooze.
Oh yeah, that's right. Another little tea time. That wasn't the right name was it? Tea break? Tea meeting? Tea…. Something? Something to do with everyone drinking tea. Of course she was the main attraction for all of Mrs. Buvelle's friends. Their little hero she could gush about to any of her friends, how incredibly proud of her she was, her and Sona. She threw a sideways glance to part of the reason she slipped into sleep. Sona sat in her usual garb, playing quiet background music on her most precious etwahl. After the third tea party, that's what it's called! she said to herself, the music was all too comforting. She wondered if Sona ever forgot about her instrument's magical properties. If not, she was sending her to sleep on purpose.
Another call of her name her name snapped her out of her little thought process and made her register that everyone was staring at her.
'Quinn dear, Sona has been waving at you for a bit now, are you okay?' Mrs. Buvelle asked looking carefully at her. Quinn blinked as the face of Mrs. Buvelle took up her vision.
'Yeah… yeah, fine. Just… got thinking,' she pushed the base of her palm against her forehead in hope of getting some thinking power back.
'Of course she's fine, Lestara!' Asserted a rather large woman next to her. An opera singer… I think... I remember hearing her talk with Sona about a recent concert. Obvious higher class bred, calling Buvelle by her first name. Maybe not, perhaps childhood friends. They always seemed to keep in contact these types of ladies, always sending cards to one another. What did they do though? Run the world behind everyone backs? 'She been in enemy territory, saved a man from certain death and dueled with assassins and you ask if she's fine at a tea party?!'
'Marissa, noise level please,' Mrs. Buvelle recited sweetly, as if she had said it one too many times. The tone in her voice noted that, yes, she had said it one too many times and she didn't want to say it again. She turned back to Quinn. 'And besides, life is more than just work,'
'Hurrumph. Tell that to Shauna,' Said a taller, thinner, gaunter looking woman. She wore a very long scarf, all various shades of red. She still held her saucer with the tea cup still on it. It was completely still. Quinn really did wonder about these women, there was always something that made her question who they were. 'She's so cut off from the rest of the world, she'll find us all guilty for no apparent reason,'
The other women glared at her. Clearly, too much was said as the air turned icy. Sona was still waving, almost half heartedly but still cheerfully, in hope of getting noticed. Thankfully, Mrs. Buvelle saved the situation.
'Quinn dear, I believe you should go shopping with Sona. I believe that's what you want right?' Sona nodded enthusiastically, maybe in excitement, maybe in fear of what this icy air would turn into soon and she wanted to be away from it.
'Mrs. Buvelle, I don't really visit many stores other than the armourer…..'
'Nonsense!' exclaimed Marissa. 'I heard that you've nothing to wear to the ball, do you intend to be a guard or guest?!'
Quinn stared at her. She stared back. 'A…guest…,' Quinn sighed, her shoulders sagging. There was no way she was going to win this one.
'Excellent,' Mrs. Buvelle cut in. 'I also hear the prince will be there. Surely you want to look your best. No doubt you'll want to dance with him, Quinn dear... You wouldn't want him to see you so disheveled,'
'He's seen me covered in mud, snow and sand,' Quinn pointed out. She didn't like how long Mrs. Buvelle focused on the prince «for her».
'While you've been working dear, this is casual,'
'In a dress so formal with crinolines it means we have to stand a few feet away from one another to talk,' She could see Marissa smirking behind Mrs. Buvelle. Even the taller woman's lips were curled up at the edges slightly.
'But not from your man you'll be dancing with I think is what she means,' Marissa cut in as Lestara opened her mouth, her eyebrows clearly showing she wasn't amused. 'Go to Wendoline's store, she has dresses more your… for your practical needs,' She winked. 'Go on dear, don't keep our dear musician waiting,' She nodded towards the door, which Sona was already standing next to, holding it open invitingly. More like 'Let's go, please stop provoking them, please,' Quinn thought as she nodded and bowed formally to them. She turned on her heel and walked over to Sona, linked their arms together as they walked out of the room together.
'Come on then Sona, teach me how to be to be a proper woman,' She said, grinning, defeated, at her. Sona smiled back and scribbled on her notepad. It was the easiest way to communicate to people quickly who couldn't read her body language.
In the middle of the page was perfect writing script. It read "In ALL ways…..?"
Quinn raised an eyebrow at her and stared at her. Sona grinned back slyly and raised an eyebrow coyly in return. Quinn smiled and winked.
'I don't need any lessons right now, but maybe someday you can teach me some techniques,' She whispered, giggling. Sona blushed and silently giggled, holding the notepad up and hiding her mouth and cheeks. Quinn hugged her then tapped her nose.
'We gotta talk about this man of yours later, just the two of us,' Quinn winked terribly and Sona silently giggled at it. 'Come on, let's go shopping then. Maybe I'll feel more like a girl after it,'
'Specialized dresses?' The clerk studied the two women standing before him, his eyes resting on Sona for quite a while. Quinn was silently thankful that she was wearing a woolen jumper. But the stares on the way there way were often. Just to catch Sona out the corner of either gender's eye was enough to make them stare. She had no idea how Sona did it. But then again, she was a performer, she was used to the public attention. The clerk pursed his lips, his eyes flicking back and forth between them, between their breasts more specifically.
'Do you need the… same sort of practicality?' He licked his lips and breathed slowly. Quinn raised an eyebrow questioningly. 'Are you the same breast size?' He asked, much more direct this time. Oh, yeah, politeness first remembered Quinn.
Quinn shook her head. 'No, I doubt I'd beat her in that department,'
The clerk nodded professionally. 'I couldn't tell from the sweater,'
Quinn kept the eyebrow raised. 'And you do this with every female?'
The clerk gave her a cold glare that belonged in the Freljord. 'I am a professional ma'am. I should be able to read the sizes of anyone, regardless of gender. It would be a great offense to the me and to my company if I could not,'
Quinn nodded and rolled her eyes as Sona just smiled. The clerk turned back to his clipboard and once again looked them up and down. They both stood in silence, unsure of whether it was comfortable or uncomfortable. Sona nodded to the dresses lining the walls. Every one of them completely handmade, each attempting to be more unique than the last one. Quinn stared at them closely. Specialties… Practically… Hmmm… She turned abruptly back to the clerk who looked up from his clipboard with a mildly polite and questioning look. 'Hmmm?'
'Is this store for specifically for big… breasted women?' She asked accusingly, leaning forwards on the table slightly.
The clerk sighed. New customers. It has been a while since he had to explain. Still, he couldn't really blame them. 'No, whilst many of them are requests of that nature, we are here for any specific need in a dress,'
Quinn leant back from the table slightly and asked, slightly less accusingly 'Like what?'
The clerk smiled. The fun bit. 'Well looking at your silent partner here who is clearly Sona the muse she must have trouble in other stores due to her specific sizes. Clearly she needs somewhere where the dresses are handmade and completely adjustable, so she comes to here as it can be made to be the most comfortable ever. She's probably tried on hundreds of different dresses and found none of them fit. She so used to being out in public that no matter what she wears she'll get noticed so the clothes she's wearing being the same as her usual attire is no surprise. Whereas you give off the warrior type, probably never worn that many dresses yourself on missions. If I'd have to guess, you've only worn things for practicality, so you'd come to here, have a dress made personally for you to hide all of your weapons, easily collapsible and easy to run in, no doubt you'd use it to mix in with the crowd. However, judging from the fact that sweater looks too small I'd say you've also probably made your sizes a lot smaller than they should be, probably had bandaging around your thighs, arms and chest as you don't want things to get in the way. Sorry, did I go too fast?,' He smiled as he finished rattling off all the words that seem to not come in a stream, but in a tsunami.
Sona and Quinn stood silent for at least 30 seconds as their brains struggled to register all of the information at once. The clerk had a small smirk to himself as he noticed the slightly hanging, open mouths. Quinn then crossed her arms in front of her as Sona clung onto her arm, smiling happily.
'Is the fitter a female?' she asked slightly quietly. The clerk smiled at them.
'It can be either male or female, the customer's choice,' he said indicating to the clipboard. 'I was just looking through the list on beforehand, do you want to do measurements now and try some structure fitting?'
Quinn nodded. 'Thank you,'
The clerk smiled. It took a while to get to some customers, but the better the relationship, the more likely would they come back. Business is business. But being friends with the customers was called being human. He smiled and opened the door to the hallway.
'Room 3 for Sona and mysterious room four for Quinn. And just a guess, but I'd say you're two sizes smaller than Sona in "that" department, so you've still got a lot going for yourself, we've got dresses for those who've used bandages for too long as well,' He whispered to the passing pair. He chuckled at the glare he got from both of them as they blushed and hurried down the hallway into the back of the shop.
Quinn finally saw what Marissa had meant by 'practical needs'. Hidden weapons of all sorts covered the walls. Anything from hostlers to hidden blades. She even saw the very sharp steel brim, to go inside the top hat's brim. Suddenly a hat had never been so dangerous. It made her think about the various weapons that assassins had used, that she had been resorted to occasionally. Sickness caught in her throat. But it stayed there, held there. She had been doing it for a long time. It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it.
After separate measurements and fittings had been made, Quinn for her weapons, Sona for her figure, they stood in separate changing wooden cubicles, trying on 'sketches' of their dresses. There were many designs, so many Quinn had no idea what to do with them. She had never experience so much choice before, what if she liked two? It wasn't even the finished product they had told her, just ideas the creators were messing around with.
A pad slid under the wooden wall separating them. Its perfect curly handwriting read "Wanna talk now? Pretty sure we're alone."
She slid the pad back through with her foot and sat on the small bench and sighed. 'This is too much for me Sona, how do you do it? You do this for every performance?' she asked, her voice slipping through the gaps to Sona. The pad slid back under.
"You get used to it. Isn't it fun?"
Quinn shrugged, then realizing Sona couldn't see her, and slid the pad back again. 'Kinda, I guess. I just dunno what to do. Like, what's expected of me?'
As the pad slid under the wall again, she could see the anger written into the writing.
"To look pretty."
She held the pad in her lap and stared at the wall. She put the pad down under the wall, walked out of the cubicle in only her underwear and into Sona's. She crossed the cubicle immediately and hugged her, Sona breathing heavily. She couldn't say anything. At these events she couldn't even express herself with music. She was stuck to this pad, this stupid, stupid pad. They were nothing but a prize to look at at the events. She couldn't communicate and Quinn had to keep all her missions a secret. They were nothing but eye candy. It's sick thought Quinn. We can't even talk back, we're just there to be looked down on. Sona hugged her back as they both sat on the bench together breathing softly. They didn't need to talk, not now. But Sona picked up the pad again.
"Let's just have fun getting dresses. I'll teach you how to be a woman." Sona smiled at her as she held up the pad for Quinn to read. Quinn saw how forced it was and hugged her again.
'Sure thing girl, you got it,' She whispered softly. 'So let's hear about this guy then.' She whispered in Sona's ear teasingly and Sona immediately blushed and lowered the pad to her lap nervously. Quinn smiled and sat across from her, crossing her legs as Sona wrote furiously.
"Please don't tell anyone!" 'Sona, of course I won't tell anyone, come on,' Quinn pouted at her and Sona giggled and flipped the page.
'So what's his name?' She asked smiling, genuinely interested, so much so she leant forwards a little. Sona scribbled.
"Buff" 'Buff? That it?' Sona nodded and Quinn shrugged, grinning. 'Is he a good guy?
Sona nodded again, slightly slower, big smiling nods. Suggestive, very 'Oh yeah' nods. Quinn smiled and leant back slightly. 'Mmmmm, that good huh?' Sona giggled silently and held the pad up to her mouth again. 'Say, would you be up for space for one more?' Sona raised an eyebrow and smiled, licking her lips. She then turned to her pad again and wrote much much slower. She was dragging it out, teasing her. She's been up to a lot recently it seems…
"You get a man first, then we'll talk about three or more."
Quinn laughed and slammed back into the wooden wall. 'Aw come on! No fair! You know I'm never gonna get a man with my job!' Sona laughed silently with her. They both stopped laughing slowly and smiled at each other.
'Come on,' said Quinn smiling, taking Sona's hand. 'You're right. Let's have some fun. Teach me girly fun,'
Three days later, he was released.
Released? More like kicked out. They pulled him out in the dead of night so no one could make any fuss about him leaving. Only Rashakk saw him go. He just sat there, smoking his pipe, drawing very, very annoyed glares from the nurses. He threw a ball of paper which hit the back of Faerdir's head. He nodded to him, and Faerdir nodded back, picking up the small paper ball and slipping it into his pocket. No doubt the family would make a fuss about it in the morning when they saw an empty bed. He missed them already, he thought as he put on his armour again, slipping his two sabres into their sheathes on his back. They were silent as the sheathed them, his thoughts blocking out whatever the nurses were saying to him. The darkness outside felt like home though, and now that he was leaving, he wondered where he really did belong.
When he finally did step outside, he sat down. He stared up at the stars, pushing his curly hair out of his eyes and wondered, for once, about his future. Maybe this probation would be good for him, maybe. He really wished that it wasn't going to be, but it probably was gonna be for the best. And why did he really feel like he wanted a smoking pipe right now? God damn Rashakk, putting ideas into his head. The air was cool as he breathed it in. He swam through it silently as he crossed the street to get a good look at the hospital he had spent five days in. It was as he guessed; it more or less looked like a cathedral. He turned and pulled out the paper from his pocket.
"See you on the other side." It read.
'Bastard,' Faerdir muttered into the night, glancing at the hospital again. He sighed and nodded glumly.
'See you soon old man,'
He turned the paper over.
Street name, flat number and district was badly scribbled on the other side. He concealed himself, climbed up the wall slowly and stood on the rooftops, overlooking the city. The wind hit his face, wailing quietly over the tops of the city. The air was purer the higher up he went, rather than the stuffy thick air at street level which was almost the consistency of soup in comparison to up here. A lot of higher buildings stood over them, on top of a small hill within the city. He glanced again at the piece of paper and awkwardness filled his stomach. But he had nowhere else to go.
'You better not be bloody lying to me, Rashakk, or there'll be hell to pay,' Faerdir grinned as he ran towards the edge of the rooftop.
If even for a couple of minutes, it felt good to be in his element
Until he remembered what 'wet roof tiles' meant. He probably should have.
Quinn woke to a knock on the door. She yawned, tumbled out of bed picked up her crossbow. Who had come here in the middle of the night, one of the most guarded districts in the city. She loaded the crossbow. Either someone stupid or skilled. Considering the person was now on the fourth floor of a building, which stood on the edge of the hill this district was on, she doubted it was someone stupid. Drunk, maybe, but not stupid. She snuck through her room quietly, keeping low until she came to the door, leaning against the wall beside it. The person knocked again, three times. There was silence. She couldn't even hear breathing. She readied her crossbow and exhaled. Even if it was someone not out to get her, interrupting her sleep did not put them in her good books. Besides, they should've just waited 'till the morning like any ordinary person, so chances of someone nice, offering girl scout cookies were pretty slim. Three knocks again.
She slammed the door open as soon as they stopped and aimed down her crossbow through the doorframe into the dark empty corridor.
Empty. Shit. Where were they?
She span around and checked her room, no presence, No breathing, no sounds of movement. What was this? She relaxed a little and stood up straight. She waited another minute, standing completely still. Still nothing. What the…
She kept her crossbow in her hand and slowly stepped out of the doorway into the corridor, spinning around each time, looking for enemies. The stained glass window, which led out to a veranda next to her room at the end of the corridor, was open. Wind whistled quietly as it sailed into the corridor, chilling Quinn as it swept around her. She went up to it and looked out. A couple of wet spots and three wet footprints. She breathed in slowly, the air was still humid; it had rained recently.
She spun round again.
The body of a long, curly haired man lay on the floor, knocked out cold.
Shi-
It still rained.
It threw itself at the door again. And again. And again.
The door had weakened, he was sure of it. All of them had weakened. He left the door and stalked slowly down the street. Its anger had boiled over. It was so close, damn this rain!
How much more? How much longer? Why couldn't it rip this place to shreds?
It wasn't surprised when it had found out there was only night. It was surprised more when it had found the streets were in different places. This was not what it was used to. Never had this happened before. But this place would soon be its…
Tiles rattled again and the entity looked up. It fled down an alleyway as another unusual thing happened again. And it was happening way too often. Never before had it been watched.
This was making it angry.
Feathers covered the bed. Perfect blue feathers filled his vision as he lifted his head. His body felt heavier than usual. He looked down, to find a bird.
He blinked a couple of times and decided to lay back down. The bird was sleeping on him. It was warm. Everything just seemed so slow. There was someone else sleeping, head and hands on the bed. Yeah, he should go back to sleep…
He woke all at once. The air smelled of perfume, light enough to breathe in though. The window was open, distilling the air gently. The wind was calm he noticed as he turned his head to look out the window. He looked down to the duvet. It was still covered in beautiful blue feathers. Amazing he thought as he looked around. The bird wasn't on him anymore, its warmth was missing. But the person was still there. The woman who had saved him. She had beautiful long brownish blue hair, a fair face and small hands with painted blue fingernails. She was still sleeping there, quietly, then a snored loudly, and then was quiet again. He chuckled and looked around, then stopped. Staring eye to eye with the bird who was now on top of the wardrobe, looking down at him with a steely glare.
They stared at each other for a while, eyes never leaving each other's as he sat up slowly. Clearly an intelligent bird, so why was it asleep earlier? He reached out slowly to shake the woman but it clacked its talons against the metal frame of the wardrobe dangerously when his hand neared her. They watched each other again. The bird dragged its talon slowly across the metal, making a very quiet scratching sound. It stopped. Stood up proud and tall then leapt off the wardrobe to glide down onto the bed, landing softly in his lap. Faerdir looked down at it and it look right back up at him.
'Watching me huh?' Faerdir pondered as he cocked his head, getting a good look at the bird. The bird ruffled its blue feathers turned its head to look directly at him.
'I'll take that as a yes then,' He murmured as the bird sat down in his lap and rested its head down, closing its eyes. The woman next to him stirred quietly and blinked her eyes open slowly. Faerdir smiled at her and her eyes snapped open as she launched herself at him, hugging him. The bird squawked and flew up to its perch on the wardrobe again as they tumbled back onto the bed.
'I'm so glad you're okay! I'm so sorry!' she yelled into his shoulder. He chuckled and hugged back gently.
'There's no need to yell, I can hear you just fine,' He said, smiling as he lay back against the pillows, hugging her.
'Sorry,' she mumbled into his shoulder, closing her eyes. Faerdir closed his eyes and sighed in thankfulness. Thank god, she was alright.
They lay in silence for some time.
'Ummm….' started Faerdir. Quinn shot up from the bed and stood up properly, turning around and patting herself down, breathing slowly as she hid her small blush.
'I'll get you something to eat; you just stay there, okay?' She rambled out as she walked mechanically out of the room. She was such a mess. Thank god, he was alright. She felt terrible for knocking him out with the door. She groaned from just thinking about it, hanging her head as she walked into her small kitchen.
Faerdir got up and slipped out of bed quietly, pushing the duvet off him. The bird fluttered down to his shoulder and perched there, casting him a beady eye uncomfortably close. The bird was something else, clearly. It's talons dug into it's shoulder, perhaps a little harder than necessary he thought, and together they slipped through the open door into the living room.
Faerdir stopped to look around the room. He wondered if all rooms were this lightly furnished, he was pretty certain they weren't. Moreover, the room reminded him of his future, once again. The sea corps died out at sea. Their entire lives spent fighting back the scourge of monsters. People had forgotten about The Hunters. They had done their job for so long people had forgotten about the time where it was a fight to travel from one city to another. They protected people, and received no thanks, at least, not anymore. So what happened now? You were allowed to do whatever you wanted, own houses in cities, travel, start families. So what did he want?
He slipped into the kitchen, the bird wobbling dangerously digging its talons in to remind him. She was there, muttering to herself as she looked through cupboards, remaining unaware of his presence. He walked up to her and put a hand on her shoulder.
'You sur-!'
She jumped, turned around so quickly holding up her arms in surprise, smacking him straight across the face with a block of cheese. Not again! Every single time she did this! Throwing the cheese to one side, she hugged him tightly.
'Sorry! You shocked me so much! I'm so sorry!' she said into his hair, hugging his head down into her chest. As much as he enjoyed the soft pillow feeling, he drew back and pushed her off him, laughing gently.
'Seriously, I'm fine,' he chuckled out, crossing his arms in front of him. The girl was as good with people as he was. She sighed gently and went to pick up the block again, it had almost split as it hit the edge of the kitchen counter. It was nice to meet someone else who was actually terrible with people. This time, he could be himself, as Rashakk told him to be.
She breathed softly, pulled out the bread and started cutting out slices. She turned, pulled out a cucumber and proceeded to cut that as well. She glanced at him. He stood, well, leant against the doorframe, watching her closely. She turned back quickly. The silence between them was… mixed. She had no idea what to do next so just continued making lunch. It felt like he was seeing through her though. She pushed her hair behind her ear nervously and started cutting the cheese. She inhaled when she felt him touch her shoulder lightly. She turned her head to look at him.
'Just one question,' He said, cocking his head slightly, grinning without showing his teeth. 'What's the name of the person who saved me?'
Name? Oh… Yeah. She blushed lightly again 'Sorry,' She sighed 'I should've told you when you woke up,' She held out her hand 'It's Quinn,' He took it and shook it lightly. 'And this little guy?' He asked. The bird squawked and bit his ear. He flinched and yanked his head away, complaining to the bird. Quinn laughed lightly. 'That's Valor. My partner in crime,' Valor stood proudly on the man's shoulders, glancing down at him. 'And I realize this is way too late, you are?'
'Faerdir,' He said, rubbing his ear between his fingers. The bird had a bloody sharp beak. He turned slightly and bowed, causing Valor to hop off his shoulder onto the counter, to Quinn. 'And to you, I owe you my life,'
She shook her head. 'You owe me nothing, well, maybe a day's rent,' She winked and went back to making lunch. He chuckled and leant back against the doorframe again. She clearly didn't know who he really was. He preferred it that way though. What to do now though? He had meant it when he owed her his life. Now he was bound to serve her, to protect her. Like she did for him. Even though she obviously didn't need it or want it, she could handle herself, so why these feelings of… longing. He owed her everything.
He caught the bird glaring at him again. He stared back and Valor simply nodded and walked out to the window ledge, then flew, rather majestically, into the sky.
'He go out often?' He asked mildly, watching the bird fly. Quinn nodded.
'All the time, he needs exercise. So do I, really. So do you too,' She poked his arm teasingly, smiling as she turned back to lunch.
He grinned. 'I look after myself,'
'I bet you do Mr Hunter,'
He froze, and the air, at least for him, turned icy. 'How-?'
'File 146, Demacian Procedure 4. File 146 is History of The Hunters and the 5th year program, we send the best children, or families, to join certain groups, our help towards neutrality as Hunters protect both Noxus and Demacia. They protect everywhere,' She turned to him and raised an eyebrow 'You thought I didn't know?'
Faerdir stuttered but she cut him off, continuing 'Weapons of unique style, tattoos on your back and arms and magic running through your clothes and veins. You think I wouldn't notice you? I can find out a lot with my level of clearance,' She glared at him pointedly, stabbing the knife into the chopping board. 'Don't look down on me,'
This time, Faerdir raised an eyebrow. 'First of all, I never looked down on you; I owe you my goddamn life. And secondly, who the hell are you Quinn?'
She smiled faintly, tension fading away. 'I guess you wouldn't know. Not many people do. I'm a spy for Demacia. Valor and I, we're a pair. We've been everywhere. But nobody'll know what we do. We're the dirty work of this city,' She sighed, sagging and looking down to the floor.
'Nobody knows the people who keep their world spinning,' He finished, staring right at her as she turned to look him in the eyes. 'I know that feeling, trust me,'
She kept her mouth closed with a slightly sad smile, her hands dropping to her sides 'Yeah. I guess you do,' they looked into each other's eyes for a while. The silence prevailed, only their soft breaths could be heard. Something dropped in Faerdir's stomach as he also realized she had probably seen him stripped and he blushed deeply. He turned his face and coughed.
'Is lunch finished? Shall we sit down and have it?' he asked through light coughing, trying to get the nervousness out of his system. Quinn was also blushing, but she did a better job keeping herself composed. Something was squirming in her stomach; she had never felt it before. She could tell however, that he was feeling it as well. Her hands shook a small bit as she turned and picked up the two plates with their sandwiches on. 'Sounds like an ide-'
A knock on the door. Quinn, silently in her head, counted to five. Damn. Sona? At a time like this?
'Quinn dear?' Okay no longer a damn situation. It's an 'oh shit' situation. Sona and Mrs. Buvelle? Now? Come on! She turned to him quickly and whispered 'Hide! They're probably here about me having to go shopping in a bit,'
Faerdir nervousness went out the window, replaced with annoyance, his mind moved quickly. 'You're going shopping?' he asked in a hush voice. She nodded. 'And that's lunch?' He was pointing to the sandwiches. She nodded again. 'So where's my weapons? Don't need the armour right now,'
'Living room, right next to the kitchen door, didn't you see them? Why do you need them? We're not attacking the Buvelles!' She whisper yelled, trying to express with her hands if not for the plates with the food on them.
'Meet you in the farmers markets then,' He sprinted out the kitchen. Sprinted back in holding both sheaths in one hand, grabbed the sandwich off the plate and climbed through the window.
'What the hell are you doing? Hide!'
He jumped.
She ran to the window and thrust her head out. He was putting on the weapons in mid-air as gravity took hold with its powerful grasp and he flew downwards.
'You're fucking insane,' She said to herself as he was no longer within audible distance. She breathed slowly, put the plates down, composed herself, brushed herself down and made her way to the door. By far the most reckless man she had ever met.
'GOOD SANDWICH BY THE WAY'
A door creaked, very loudly to the entity, slightly open. It was on the other side of the city, no doubt it would change places like the streets did.
Even better, it was hidden from the watcher.
But it still rained. The place never stops raining.
It started walking. There was no point running.
It would get there.
It would
In the Darkness of the city, rain dripping off its clothes, something… watched.
Faerdir dumped himself on the sofa, sighing loudly as he sank into the pillows. Fatigue had him laid out all over it. She was a piece of work, no doubt about that. He still had no idea how women did it. Shopping. They had gone food shopping, armour shopping, clothes shopping, weapon shopping, all kinds of it. He didn't need anything other than the food. Well, the jewelry was nice, but not for him. It wouldn't work with the tattoos.
She had insisted that he stay at her place. She wouldn't hear of him going somewhere else, nice and comfortable, with a bed. No, he was stuck with the sofa. Well, he wasn't. She insisted he take the bed but if he was going to stay, he would be polite and take the sofa. The argument had brought them a lot of attention in the marketplace. The sofa did feel nice and squishy though. Really comfortable. So here he was, and glad he was here.
He had learnt they were both 'on holiday'. While she was a bit clumsy with people at first she was definitely a hardened fighter underneath it all. Yet still human enough to hide him from Sona the muse. It was interesting to him, she became very flustered when she had spotted Sona and he was shoved into a side alley. He loved just watching, she was amazing in her own way to him. She looked silly at some points trying to work out what things were, like in quite a few more shops than he would've thought, but it was cute.
He just… couldn't help staring at her. And she had caught him doing it quite a few times. It also felt weird, standing there in ordinary citizen clothes. With her, standing next to him in the same clothes. He really ought to have stopped staring. He didn't doubt she caught him staring at her chest, or hands, or face, or ass. That probably wasn't the best way on how to present himself in front of her. Though she had demanded that he come to the ball in two days and that tomorrow he would buy a suit. That was a long argument. But he had nothing else to do, so of course she won. He was not certain he could stand being a suit for such a long period of time. He was used to standing in the rain, covered in mud, tracking down prey. Standing clean and in a suit with a collar that made him feel like breathing was a chore, he wasn't so sure about that.
He stared at the ceiling, putting his arms behind his head as he shifted his hair out of his eyes. There was an incredibly detailed painting on the ceiling. He ignored it and started counting feathers. Those brilliant blue feathers…
Ah…
Finally! An open door!
The city around it shook. It rained harder, water started seeping from the windows, flowing out into their own rivers towards the drains. Drains which overflowed, water rising, the ground slow shaking, everything was rising, like the drums in the deep.
The entity opened the door and stepped inside
Then the door slammed into it! It stuck a foot in the door, keeping it open. Enraged, it threw itself at the door, screaming, snarling. No! Not into the Eternal Night! Fiercely flailing at the prospect, it hammered against the door.
This could not happen!
'Faerdir,' Quinn cried quietly. 'Faerdir please wake up,' she croaked out.
Everything burst into view in front of his eyes. He was above her, on her bed, the duvet still had large amount of blue feathers on them. She was lying on the bed, hands on his chest. Crying. Eyes red and swollen from crying. His hands were around her neck.
He sprung backwards, his back smashing into the wardrobe as he panted hard. He looked at his hands.
Blood.
He ran to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He was pale, shaking, and gaunt. Something flickered behind his eyes. Something, in the darkness, flickered. He held up his hands.
Nothing. No blood. Just an illusion. No, an image. How long before it was real? He didn't want to know.
He tumbled back downstairs, through the bedroom, oblivious to the fact Quinn was standing up, and into the living room. He grabbed his weapons and chucked them down onto the floor, ran over to his armour and chucked them into the same pile. He turned, heading for the bedroom and stopped himself before he slammed into her.
She stood in the doorway.
'Quinn,' Faerdir croaked. 'Please, run. I have to go,'
She gazed at him softly. She wore a stunning white and blue silk chemise. Her eyes were still red from crying. 'No,' She whispered, her voice strong and stable. Faerdir shook his head and backed away. Still, Quinn stared at him, unblinking. He turned and ran towards his pile reaching out for his-
Mine! The voice growled, shattering the air around them. Faerdir's hand froze in midair. He struggled and strained, unable to move, his fingers so close to the pile. The arm drew itself back and his body flicked round to face Quinn.
She hadn't stopped staring at him. Now, white light glowed from one of his eyes as half his face turned into a twisted grin. His arm became outstretched, coming towards her. She should've been terrified she thought. His fingers were turning transparent, only the white outlines of them could be seen. Wraith. She could see his face and she knew he was fighting it as much as he could. But the spirit had a foot in the door and wasn't letting go.
'Quinn, Run!' Faerdir gargled out desperately at her with what parts of his face that still worked. She shook her head again. The darkness in the room was increasing, candles flickered out until only the moon through the windows illuminated the room. Ribbons of light streaked across the room, silhouetting Faerdir in a pale light.
And the white light of the parts of him that were turning Wraith.
'Fool!' A snarling voice roared. It had emanated from his own mouth. 'Do you not see this is now mine! It is all too late for anyone here,'
Quinn, shook her head again. She set her face. Her mind was made up. Fuck life, fuck it insanely hard. She couldn't believe she was doing this. Nothing else mattered. Just the now. Her heart drumming against her ribcage, she walked straight up to him, until they were eye to eye. The freezing air, the darkness, the fear. None of it matter as she put a hand on his cheek.
'I will never stop believing in you,' She whispered to him. 'Thank you Faerdir,' She smiled at him. Half of his face twisted in utter hate, the other half in sadness.
'Die,' The voice snarled as the arm made to grab her throat. It jerk, the arm fighting itself as it twisted and contorted. Quinn hadn't moved. She was breathing slowly, gently. The air was quiet, no sounds of the city, it was just them and the wind.
She hugged Faerdir as tight as she could, her arms wrapping around his neck and screamed into the Wraith ear 'Give me back my man!'
The body shook. 'NEVER!' The voice roared back. The face was now half Wraith, the gaunt, sallow, skullish terrifying face roared and stretched back from Faerdir's physical body, as if in attempt to get away from Quinn.
'DIE!' It screamed. But it was fading. The voice was fading. The fingers were returning, slowly fading back into view. The Wraith's face glared at Quinn, terrifying her, then twisted round in the air glared at the still twitching Faerdir who glared straight back, his face contorting less and less. The Wraith's face slowly merged back with his, fading even more, colour and physicality returning, until finally. It was just Faerdir.
He collapsed and so did she, hugging him and crying hard into his chest. She punched him a couple of times afterwards as Faerdir put his arms around her, crying just as hard as her. They both lay there, her hands on his on chest, shirt ripped, as she cried silently into his neck. His arms around her chest, his heavy eyelids closed as he breathed softly. Water pooled on the ground, the water drops becoming smaller, and smaller, until they stopped. The room smoothly became darker as clouds carefully covered the moon, leaving the room in darkness, the pair unable to see each other, only using touch and imagination to see each other.
Faerdir felt her push herself off him, wiping her eyes with her arm in the dark. He sat up and felt a hand being offered down in front of his face. He didn't deserve it he thought, but he took it anyway, Quinn helping him up.
'Thanks,' He whispered but Quinn put a finger on his lips. She took his hand softly and led him through the darkened room. He felt the door open in front of him as they walked slow, his stomach twisting in pain. He had almost killed her, he shouldn't be doing this. But he knew that he had no choice. He didn't want to have any other choice if he was honest. Her hand slipped out of his, then he heard the soft thump of her landing on the bed, exhaling slowly.
He felt himself being watched. Valor stood on his golden ornate perch, one eye open, the other closed. It watched him very closely as he walked around the bed, closer to the perch. Faerdir reached out. No reaction. Only the beady eye moved ever so slightly, watching his face intently. He stroked Valor's head, his hand continuing all the way down to his tail. The feathers felt almost leathery under his fingers, smooth, and cool. Almost, statue like. Still no movement. The eye remained chillingly on his face, filled with no emotion. Faerdir moved slightly to the side and the eye followed with pinpoint accuracy. It scared him slightly, never before had an animal, a bird at that, ever looked so dangerous. So...intelligent. Feeling more and more awkward, he nodded once to it and turned to the bed. He took his wet, ripped shirt off slowly, throwing it to the corner of the room with all her other clothes.
He gently got onto the bed on his hands and knees, sinking slightly into the squishy silk duvet and mattress. The same style as the white couch, everything felt so smooth. His hands glided across it until it something firmer, but just as smooth. Quinn's thigh. It felt amazingly soft and supple as he ran his fingers slowly up her thigh, reveling at the feeling of her skin on his skin. His fingers then brushed over soft, silky material that was slightly rough as he glided across it. He looked down. His hands were underneath her chemise. His hand was on her panties. He noticed both of them were breathing slightly harder, as warmth filled him, his desires making it hard to think rationally. No, not now. As much as he wanted to, he did not give in to it. The image of her in her chemise flashed through his head, making his crotch burn with want but his mind was made up. Curling his fingers inwards he withdrew his hand, instead slipping it around her waist as he lay down next to her, pressing his chest against her back. He spooned her, feeling her press back into him, his head resting in her hair. Her aroma wafted over him, his eyes fluttering to stay open as he pull the duvet over them, up to their necks.
To him, his drowsy mind thought, this was a new smell.
It smelled of home.
So comfortable and content were they both, that they didn't even wake when it dawned. Or when there was knocking on the door. Or when Valor landed on the duvet and slept with them.
She sighed contently when she woke up, keeping her eyes closed. She was still sleepy… but that knocking was getting insistent now that it had returned. She nuzzled her head inwards, against the hard, but smooth chest. She fluttered her eyes open and stared at it. Light streamed into the room, the windows open letting in a cool breeze. Curtains danced to the whims of the wind, allowing the light to shimmer, flutter, occasionally into the room as shadows did battle with the light. She placed a hand on his chest softly. His left chest. It was disfigured, as if something had gouged part of it out. But it had left no mark, as if it was part of the body structure. The skin was smooth, there were no sudden disappearances of body, just… part of it wasn't there anymore. The Wraith. No, it was something more than just a wraith, something was now a part of him. Another soul…
Her fingers trailed around his chest. It belonged to her now, her man, her love for him, all hers. She smiled slightly crazily at the thought of that and buried her head into his chest, into the part that was missing. A perfect place for her to rest her head. He was taller than her by at least a foot but she didn't care. He could rest his chin on top of her head, he could enclose her, he could make her feel at home, safe. Happy welled throughout her as he shifted onto his back, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him. Defined was probably the best word to describe his body. He wasn't rippling with muscles, but definitely enough. Thick and hard they were as she ran her hand over his abs, her fingers tracing the defining lines. It made her shiver as she rubbed circles over individual abs. Skin on skin, fire filled her fingers and gurgled in her core. Lust filled her as she pulled down the duvet to see him completely.
Something dropped in her stomach and her breathing increased sharply as her eyes rested on his boxers. Lying against his stomach, the rod was so hard it's shape could easily be seen as the boxers shaped around, the fabric tightening as it stretched. It would be long, oh so long thought Quinn. She had never felt so unguarded, so alive right now, she didn't even put up resistance to her hand as it stretched out to touch it. Her hand rested on top of it, her fingers slowly wrapping around, feeling it through the boxers.
Someone banged persistently against the door.
Quinn jumped, almost completely out of bed. She shot up and ran to the door, breathing heavily, trying to steady it as she patted her face to get rid of the blood that had filled her cheeks. And trying to get Faerdir out of her head for a moment. She opened the door and stood centered in its frame again.
'Yes?'
It was Sona. Quinn sighed, slightly annoyed, slightly relieved. It could've been worse, it could've been Lestara. But at the same time… Quinn licked her lips subconsciously and looked up and down the corridor. Nobody else, an empty corridor. Sona was holding up the pad.
"Quinn, it's the afternoon now, where've you been?"
Quinn blinked at it slowly and stepped back to look out of the window in the living room. She blinked slowly, pressing her eyelids down hard and stepping back into the doorframe.
'It's the afternoon?' She asked Sona slightly sleepily, cocking her head. Sona nodded. 'But it's so bright outside' Sona shrugged and scribbled on the pad again.
"No crossbow? You okay?"
Quinn nodded and stretched out, her fingertips trying to touch the top of the doorframe. 'Yeah, I'm alright. Just had a rough night last night, but I'm feeling real good now,' Her bones clicked satisfyingly and her muscles hummed out well rested as she stretched. Sona raised an eyebrow and proceeded to scribble on her pad.
"Rough night? Why're you wearing that? Didn't we get that for my evening with Buff?"
Quinn looked down at herself and then back up at Sona. Damn, That was meant to be a secret. God she felt like such an idiot now. She knew she should've told her but with Faerdir around she kinda forgot…
'Yeah, rough night,' Sighed Quinn and looked at Sona straight in the eye. 'Okay, you looked amazing in it and so I went out to the same shop when I went shopping and got myself my own one... It just looked so amazing. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I was meaning to but I just… forgot,'
Sona, weirdly, smiled softly at her and scribbled on the pad, holding it up again
"Quinn, its fine. You'll just have to go shopping with me again to find a different one."
Quinn raised an eyebrow 'Another excuse to go shopping? And with that Miss Sona,' She bowed smartly, teasingly 'I bid you farewell,' She looked up and winked at Sona whilst mid bow and retreated into her room, closing the door behind her. She turned around to find him standing there.
It happened instantly.
Faerdir kissed her, taking her face in his hands and sealing her lips with his. He bore down on her, such was the pressure of the kiss she was forced back, hitting the now closed door with a loud thud. He had waited, he had been patient, but he wanted her. He needed her. Just for now, just for him. His lips grafted over hers, inexperienced though he was at kissing, holding his breath for a long time he was certain of. The feel of her lips, plump and soft, not squishy. Their taste to him was something he would get addicted to if he could, again, and again, and again.
Quinn kissed back hard, her hands on his chest, trying to push them away from the door. He overpowered her, holding them in place, crushing her between the wooden door and him. She moaned into his mouth. He was prolonging the kiss, teasing her, playing with her. Oxygen was getting low and he mind started to spin as he kept his lips sealed over hers. The feeling flew through her body, her oxygen deprived brain helping her concentrate on her lips alone. His felt so coarse against hers, so rough. His thumbs were stroking her cheekbones as he held her head in his hands, rough scarred covered hands against the smooth soft skin. She tried pushing to no avail, so she kissed back harder. They needed to move, Sona probably heard the thud. What if she was on the other side of the door? Her legs went weak, her hands switched from pushing his chest to grabbing his arms, pulling herself up as she slid down the door. The kiss. Her world had shrunk to just her room, then just the doorway, then just him.
They ripped free of each other's mouth, Quinn holding onto him tightly, her arms shaking as she looked up into his eyes. They were both shaking, breathing heavily, high on each other. Her lips were swollen from the kissing, but they ached for more. She looked at his lips, stood unstably and closed the distance once more. He responded, his lips crashing down on hers, his arms wrapping around her body. Ah, this feeling she thought as she was hugged against him, combined with this feeling. Love and passion. She gave in to her desires, her core's flames becoming a raging furnace.
He didn't keep the kiss as long as the last one. He could feel her shaking in his arms. She looked so frail, so fragile when she looked at him with those eyes. Her beautiful deep green eyes that pierced his soul. A monster he was, a monster he had be, but to her, it was the monster she loved. But he wasn't doing it for her, he was doing it for himself. He needed this, he needed her. So just for one night, he had be selfish. After all, after this it had always be for her. He picked her up bridal style, breaking the kiss and letting her rest back in his arms. Her arms moved up to around his neck and she nuzzled her head into his neck. She surprised him by kissing his neck, tickling him. He chuckled and swatted her head with his nose. She was going to make it clear that he was his.
She made especially sure of that as she bit into his neck, sucking and licking it gently. The bite wasn't gentle though, skin split, blood poured from it and she licked the wound and he winced hard. Her mark on him, a permanent one. She licked it carefully, even when he was gently putting her down on the bed her arms were around his neck, trying to lick the wound. As he tried to pull back she forcefully grabbed him and pulled him over, down onto the bed making him shout in exclamation as he landed on her. She laughed and smiled at him as their noses touched gently, Faerdir holding himself up on his elbows. Topless, he looked amazing, her hands coming round and resting his back, trying to reach down to his ass. Unfortunately, just out of reach for her, so instead she reached round to his front.
Faerdir stopped her as she reached the hem of his boxers, looking down directly into her eyes. She looked back up. Nothing flickered behind his eyes anymore. Only love and affection filled them. Her smiled wavered as her body shook. She patted his chest, motioning for them to sit up. Faerdir nodded and rolled off her, sitting cross-legged next to her. Slowly, breathing gently she got up and sat in his lap. Curling up into a ball, burying her head in his neck she whispered incoherently against his skin. He kissed her head through her hair and stroked it softly.
'I love you,' She whispered, barely audible against his neck. She smelt his neck. Sweat. His sweat. While it was sweat, it was him. It was his smell. Faerdir copied her with her hair, his fingers slipping into her hair and running gently through them. He placed a gentle finger on her lips.
'Shhhh,' he whispered softly, his fingers trailing down her back. 'Don't say anything. Just enjoy the moment,'
Quinn shook her head and kissed him softly. He kissed back slowly at first, but his desire overtook him. Hand hands stroked up her back, against the silk of her chemise. He wanted to rip it off, to tear it and throw it to one side. But she looked amazing in it, so, carefully, he slipped his hands underneath and pressed the palms of his hands against her bare back. She shivered slightly and separated from his mouth, moving around and breathing softly in his ear as his hands went higher and higher, peeling it off her body slowly. She raised her arms in compliance and in one fell swoop, it came off, and fell into the corner of the room.
Faerdir stopped for a moment to just look at her. Her bare breasts heaved in front of him as her breathing became quicker and quicker. They were much bigger than he had imagined, obviously like him, what you wore was for practicality, not looks. But he wished what she wore was for looks. Her skin was light, fair, people would call it. The orbs in front of him held their shape firmly, clearly what the bandages had done to them, the nipples in the centre of them were starting to harden in the cold air. Her stomach was flat, toned, so much so it looked like a field of smooth skin to him. Only blue silk lace panties remained on her bottom half. She lay back into the pillows, blushing hard as she stretched out, showing off her entire body. His boxers tightened again as he gazed upon her in such a position. He ran his eyes along her thighs. Also toned, actually, very very toned. Powerful though they were, the smooth skin didn't stop anywhere, not near her knees, not on her calves or shins or on the soles of her feet.
This was so embarrassing to her. She had never done this for anyone before, prostrating herself on her own bed for him. He felt her gaze on him, her core burning with want. She was soaking down there, and whilst the romantic moments had cooled her off want still burned inside. He was staring at her breasts again. Now her stomach, now her legs, and now back up to her breasts. She turned over slowly, her breasts pillowing her chest against the bed. She buried her head into the pillows and snuck glances at his boxers. As much as the rest of his body heated her up, she wanted to see inside. She had forgotten how incredible it had felt, how fast her heart was pounding inside her ribs.
Faerdir quickly shuffled over her, on his hands and knees above her, he bore down on her, his lips descending down to her skin. Softly, he kisses down the back of her neck, leaving a hot and cold trail of wet kisses. He would admire every inch of her body before the night was over. Every single nook and cranny was his now. His hands stroked her shoulders lightly, fingertips skating over skin, causing it to shiver. His lips continued the warpath downwards, kissing down her spin. Getting mischievous, he glided his nails over her back, scratching designs lightly into her skin. He shook in anticipation, and so did she, his nails invoking euphoria in little lines along her skin. Her breathing was shaky, trying to keep it stable. He knew she would be moaning soon. He had be the one to make her. The thought made his bugle twitch in lust. Images flashed across his mind but he suppressed them. All of that would come later, but his hands shook as he continued.
Quinn shook her ass gently as he kissed it softly. What she didn't expect was him biting into it gently. She bit her lip hard and breathed heavily as a little explosion of pleasure emanated from her flesh, her legs shaking as she held still the rest of her body. Her teeth wouldn't help anymore so she shifted her hands over her mouth and covered it, breathing through her nostrils. She raised up and down as she took great deep breaths, her breasts shaking every time she did. She shifted herself to get extra stimulation from her breasts, the nipples hardened nubs by now. She wanted to turn over but she knew he had turn her over when he had finished this torture. Then he would begin a new torture. Her mind swam in pleasure at the thought of it all. Once she had satisfied him, they would end it all together.
He kisses slowly down her thighs, teasingly kissing back up her thighs to her ass, hooking his fingers in her panties and pulling them down with him as he kissed back down her thighs. Teasingly again, he held his tongue out and trailed it down the backs of her calves until he reached her feet, her dainty little feet. There were plenty of cute things about her, but she just hid them all from people to see. He kissed the soles of her feet then slowly stroked them, causing muffled giggles to be emitted from the pillows at the head of the bed. He smiled as both happy and mischievousness shot through him. He tapped on the small of her back twice and she turned over, complying.
Quinn watched as he stood at the end of the bed in front of her, standing imposingly, dominatingly above her. Her eyes brushed over his body, taking in it's shape, it's muscle, and disfigurement. His chest was completely bare of hair, and so were his arms. His legs made up for both though. His fingers were long, his hands big, but oh so delicate they were. Covered in scars, they were coarse and rough against her smooth skin. His muscles and small disfigurements defined him, made him something else to her. Oh so sexy to her. She couldn't believe she was thinking this. She shivered slightly as she laid their, arms straight above her head. She watched, amazed eyes glued to his hands as he slowly pulled off his black boxers. His cock sprang forth, hardened by the constant passion. It stood up straight of its own accord, twitching slightly every so often. Such a strong healthy dick. Her mouth hung open slightly as the sight of his dick would flip on all the right switches. She fingers and toes curled up as she stretched out, desiring to touch it but holding off until his work on her was complete. He was still lovingly torturing her. He had her in his grasp. And she wanted more.
She watched, unblinkingly as he picked up a foot, then slowly, he encapsulated her big toe in his mouth, staring playfully at her. He sucked on it, licked it, lathered it with his tongue, tasted it. Then slowly, he released it from his mouth, a soft sucking noise ringing through the air when it was released. He continued with every, single, toe on her foot. This weird show, this dining on her feet, made her shake with indescribable arousal. It turned her on, more than she would've imagined if it had been described to her. He continued, doing the same with her other foot, lathering it with his saliva. She had to try very hard to keep her legs from opening, to show her swollen folds. They oozed out lubrication in preparation, great dollops of it were staining the bed below her. She gazed pleadingly at him desperate for some stimulation. He kissed up the front of her legs and she threw her head back in frustration as more lines of fire, little spots of sizzling passion, were grafted onto her body, causing her to squirm.
She shook and squirmed as she felt his tongue enter her nether lips. She moaned loudly as finally some stimulation filled up her senses. Pleasure flowed through her body, her moans singing out. He had to hold her down as she writhed around. She gasped every time he flicked and rubbed her clitoris, bucking her hips forwards to gather more stimulation. Faerdir sealed his mouth over her slit, spreading her lips apart and licking whatever he could with his tongue. She grabbed his head and tried forcing his head down even more. He hands soon gave up as her body shook in a heap of sweat and ecstasy. She was arching her back and whilst he knew he was being a jerk, he retreated, having to use a surprising amount of strength to fight off the thighs that were gripping his head, trying to force him back in.
Quinn moaned and almost tore up the bed as he left her there, her imminent climax clawed away from her. That bastard! Just leaving her lying here. He stood above her on his knees, stroking his cock slowly with eyes filled with pure, hardened lust. Her lips splattered themselves again in anticipation as she nodded. Yes, just yes. Right now, don't stop, not now.
She moaned softly as his big, helmet head slide into her vagina. Her folds contorted to its shape as it widened her slit to fit around his girth. She purred as he pushed slowly, more and more disappearing inside of her, until finally, he hilted in her, feeling the head brushing around the roof of her insides. He then drew out very slowly, and pushed back in very slowly, enjoying the feel each time her pussy contorted around to his shape, lovingly moulding her to him. For Quinn, all strength was taken from her as pleasure exploded slowly and continuously inside of her, forever near the edge of orgasmic pleasure as he kept up the slow pistoning of his dick in her pussy. It ached in pleasure, covering his cock, lathering it like a sponge bath, in her juices as she cooed blissfully.
She felt his lips again, on her stomach, kissing slowly upwards. He kissed a massive hot circle on her stomach, the slightly hard kisses were leaving little red spots, and then his licked her bellybutton. Again, arousal built up with her, causing more pleasure to come from the ever-pounding cock inside her. Every single time to the hilt, every single time a slow, loving, thrust. He wasn't pounding her to oblivion, he was loving her, pleasuring her, making her feel whole. He slipped his hands underneath her back and pulled her up to him. He sat cross-legged, sitting her on his cock, hilted inside of her. She closed her eyes and grinded around on it, shaking her hips back and forth, moans escaping from her lips continuously. She wanted more, no needed more. His love was binding her, making her star struck as the pleasure overwhelmed her. They combined until she was nothing but a sweaty panting rag, her head underneath his as she panted and moaned into his chest.
He leant her back though. What he wanted was something he had been watching ever since he saw her. An arm wrapped her the small of her back, he bent her over it and his lips came down on her breasts. He covered them with gentle kisses at first, then started nibbling on the tender flesh. They were perfect to him, big, round, natural. They held their shape well as her breathing increased, causing them to rise and fall with every breath. Quinn was amazed at it. Never before had it been like this, this zest tingling, spreading outwards from her chest. His appetite was insatiable, but a tease he was. His kisses and nibbles were always in circles around her nipple, and she knew it had be something else. She waited, squirmed on his cock, wrapping her legs around his waist, trying to get more stimulation of pleasure. Then he reached the peak of her breasts. Clamping down on them, he sucked hard, Quinn moaning and curling over, pressing his face into the ample bosom. Her breasts swayed as she moaned, panted, ran her fingers through his hair, rubbed her head into his hair as pleasure shot through her. He switched the neglected breast and the dance of pleasure continued all over again, Quinn's nails digging into his shoulders as her voice started turning slightly screechy. His tongue ran all around the nipple, it poked it back into the breast, flicked it, caressed it. Finally, he let go, leaning back to admire his work. Both breasts now stood up with hardened nubs, bouncing gently as Quinn continued to grind her hips, panting hard from all the pleasure points at once. Arousal spiked, his dick pulsed with life inside her, trying to get back into action. Her heat surrounding him was starting to get too much to bear.
Sweat covering their bodies; he knew it had to end soon enough. Quinn mewled in his grasp as he cupped her chin with one hand. Nothing but him filled her eyes. The rest of the world was gone for now, the only thing that mattered was this bedroom. Was him. Never had she thought of a man in the same way as him. Never would she knew. Faerdir kissed her. It was slow, gentle, beautiful. They both tried to stop panting for it, but failed. Their hands went to each other's face, trying again and again to kiss for longer, for more, for each other. Finally, Faerdir sealed her lips with his own.
Only the fluttering of the curtains could be heard as they kissed. A bright blue cloudless sky was outside through the open windows. The light that shone through had turned from a bright white to slightly golden as the sun was slowly starting to go down. Their kiss kept going.
Finally, they broke apart. They stared into each other's eyes, their mouths slightly open as they both breathed softly. Slowly, Quinn fell back onto the bed, laying herself out again for him, spreading her legs wide. Faerdir complied, plunging his cock into her pussy again, and again, and again. Lust fueled them, igniting a thrusting frenzy. Sweat covered their bodies in a light sheet. The bird's eye view gave him a perfect look at her firm yet giggling perfect body. His girth disappeared inside her, again and again and again. Her moans reached their loudest, covering up the loud smacking noises as their hips met together, flesh slapping against flesh. He grabbed her little waist with both hands and thrust as hard and as fast as he could, trying to end it for the both of them. He lifted her ass into the air slightly, trying to get his dick deeper into her every single time. Her breasts flailed in blurs, her moans turned into screams as her whole body contracted and her back arched.
Faerdir exploded inside her, yelling out in agony and pleasure. Quinn exploded on him, her whole body curling and contorting as pleasure flew threw her nerves, hitting every part of her body, every nook and cranny. Hot cum filled her insides, sloshing around inside her, painting her walls white. Finally, after they had both stopped writhing and spurting in orgasmic pleasure, he collapsed next to her. His cock slowly becoming limp popped out from her soaked curtains. A small bit of his seed slowly seeps out in a big dollop, dropping down onto the bed. Her pussy lips were still pulsating from the climax.
He lay down next to her and watched her. She was already asleep, curling up subconsciously on the bed. He chuckled and pulled the duvet over them, spooning her once again. He rubbed his crotch though, his fingers stroking the flaccid penis, the session was so intense it hurt. Either that or it had been too long since last time. He buried his head in her hair again and breathed in slowly.
Home.
Night came. Faerdir clipped on the last of his armour and picked up the two sheaths. Eyes were watching him. They had been watching him while he was sleeping as well. There was no wind blowing as all the windows were closed. A candle was lit in the living room, casting long shadows throughout the room. He walked slowly back into the bedroom room, making the candle in the living room fade and wisp out. He walked slowly over to the one watching him and put a letter next to his perch.
'Hey Val,' he sighed. The bird acknowledged him and stared directly at him. Faerdir scratched the back of his head.
'You know it's for the best,' Faerdir muttered out. He hated saying that sentence out loud. He hated even thinking that sentence. It sounded like he had just given up. Like he didn't care. But if he was around her it had find a way in. He knew there had be a solution later down the line. But right now there was no choice. They both regarded the sleeping figure on the bed. She was smiling in her sleep. Faerdir smiled faintly at her when he saw her, forever tinged with sadness.
'You, uh, take good care of her buddy. I'll be back soon. And real soon, not soon as in I'm never coming back. I'm coming back man, just you wait… Um, I should stop rambling,' Faerdir whispered, realizing he had been too loud. Valor nodded and cawed quietly to him.
'It's a promise,' He said, nodding towards the magnificent bird 'Keep her safe, though I don't really need to tell you that,' He walked towards the window and opened it carefully. The air was dead, good news for him, nothing to wake her up. He heard a squawk and turned around as he sat on the edge.
'Yeah, I'm pretty emotionless sometimes. I guess that's one of my bad points,' Faerdir said to Valor.
He jumped.
He disappeared as the night swallowed him whole.
The door was open. Yellow light streamed from it into the street. It stood at the end of the street. The only street. The city had changed. Now, it was just a street. There was nothing else.
Just the street.
And the rain.
The entity walked slowly down the street. Forced into this place, this forever never-ending night. Mist rose off the floor of the street. The light from the door dimmed for a second then was full beam. Someone had blocked the light. Someone leaving from the door. It heard the sound of its boots approaching. The shape appear in the mist. Drawing, evermore, nearer.
Water cascaded off it's armour, rain drops tinning against it, and oil leather cloak as the figure stopped in front of it and, entirely unconcerned, flipped a knife in the air.
The knife hit the cobbles of the street where, rather worryingly, it sunk in. The figure said: 'What are you?'
The entity stirred, like an abandoned dog in the rain. It had gone on too long
'I am Rage. Brother to Vengeance' Once again, it was not a sound. It was a feeling, translated into sound.
'Who are you?'
'I am The Hunter' The figure said.
'Who're you to stop me?!' The entity lunged, but was stuck; frozen in place. 'This body is mine to control!'
'Indeed,' The shadowy hunter reached down and pulled out the knife. 'Who am I to stop you? He created me. I am the one who finds, the part of him who will always find the darkness. Si venatione tenebris deputabitur?Who hunts the darkness? I do. Always. I will always find the darkness'
'What kind of human hunts itself?'
'One who fears the dark,'
'And so he should!' It lunged again, but still it stopped, still frozen in place.
'Indeed, but I think you misunderstand. I am not here to stop you,' A wave of the hand and the entity fell to the ground, smashing into the puddle, water sloshing along the cobbles. 'I am here to hunt the dark, continuously,' It motioned to the open door and stepped to the side of the street. 'Call me the Hunt. Imagine how strong I must be,'
Rage ran past Hunt towards the open door. Hunt drew its two sabres and walked after it. 'And now,' said The Hunter 'The eternal chase begins,'
The moonlight illuminated a clearing.
In the clearing, stood two people.
One solid. The other transparent.
I refuse
The hiss filled the clearing. Silence covered the forest in a tight blanket, except for the warbling bird that sang crazily every hour of the day. The shadows of leaves, unmoving, created a circle around the clearing of almost blue looking grass in the moon's light. There was no wind. The transparent figure moved around the clearing, but no grass shifted under his feet. The other figure moved in parallel, his gaze never shifting from the transparent figure. It cast no shadow.
'You have no choice,' Faerdir said to the transparent figure
You will be consumed by me!
'No, I will use your powers myself' He said back. 'I will survive! Every time I use your powers, I will fight you for control of my body,' Faerdir drew a sabre and watched gazed across the clearing 'But for her, you will never gain control,'
Then I'll poison you until I do!
Then every fight will be two battles. One to survive against who I'm fighting against on the outside. And the other to survive his fight on the inside. Faerdir sighed and glared at the spirit. Now half man, half spirit. Double the pressure, but double the power. Every time he used the powers he would hunt down the darkness and make sure it was kept inside. It would not be let out. Exorcism, suppression, drugs, so many other ways of surviving, staying alive. But he would become more, he wanted redemption. He… reveled in it. No matter what pain it caused him, no matter what struggle it would be to use its powers, no matter how hard it fought.
He would survive.
This was all kinds of stupid, reckless, idiotic, dangerous, unthinking and uncaring. And all together, living would be a risk. That, was the fun part. Though maybe for her sake, I should tone down the recklessness.
Just a small bit.
After all, when they met again he wouldn't like to have an arm missing.
Quinn stood on the veranda of the palace ballroom, overlooking the city. The wind was dead, nothing fluttered, nothing whistled. Golden light streamed from the room behind, and with it came the sounds of music, talking and dancing. The ballroom. The light silhouetted her in the archway, light outlined her body with a gold line, the shining light illuminating the back of her. The moon's light illuminated her front, her armour glinting in the moonlight.
Behind her in the gigantic room, people searched for two missing people. She was one of them. She sighed and leant on the ornate marble parapet, looking down onto the rooftops.
'You're an absolute bastard you know,' she whispered out to the city. She breathed deeply, allowing the armour to rise and fall with each individual breath. This felt familiar.
'Alone again huh?' Valor squawked indignantly on her shoulder. 'Apart from you Val,' She smiled at the bird as it huffed and turned its head away. She chuckled and looked over at her fellow guard. 'Pretty good night eh?' She jerked her thumb over her shoulder to the arch of golden light. The guard nodded and sat on the parapet, gazing back at the arch filled with light. She joined the other guard in looking and wondered what it had be like to be in there, dancing with a man. Probably awkward. It wasn't for her. Just like it wouldn't be for Faerdir. She shouldn't have said he had to come. He would've found it awkward. He was awkward. He probably didn't notice that his actions made things even more awkward by just staring at people until he thought he knew them.
'Still, rather be here in the freezing cold than be in there as eye candy. Right?' She shouted across to the other guard. The guard flipped up the visor of the helmet and smiled at her, pulling something large out from the big heavy uniform. The guard held up a pad.
"Damn right."
Fin
I really, really, loved trying out this new style of writing. I hope you guys enjoyed it as well, the idea was to not only saturate the story with lots of description, creating a more indepth world, but also to have places where no or so little information is given at all, so the audience reads more into it. It's a film technique which is rarely used in film but is really really effective. I simply applied the theory to writing.
Also, bloody sick of reading stories with Mary Sues, GIVE YOUR CHARACTERS FLAWS GODDAMMIT! Nobody is perfect! My made up character for this story has 2 sides, then gets a third one in the form of a spirit trying to take him over. That's multi-faceted!
ANNOUNCEMENT PART (I NEED HELP, PLZ READ):
I'm still looking for beta readers. Unfortunately I don't have enough time on my hands to actually beta read my own work. I know that is the sign of a good writer but due to deadlines I put upon myself (Explained in the next bit) I physically don't have enough time as much as I would like to so I wish to work with people to help me improve as a writer. I'd like around 3 beta readers cause they point out different stuff and they all add their opinions which is nice to learn from different viewpoints.
On that note, would anyone like to "beta" (Correct all the mistakes) of this piece of work. If so, that'd be a great help (You can just Crtl+A and then right click, select copy. Then just send me the DocX pointing out the mistakes (Please don't actually correct it without showing me, otherwise I wont learn))
My updating schedule. I have put it upon myself to make a story every 2 months and release it always on the 1st.(So the next one will be on Novermeber the 1st) The same style, same format. The things that'll differ is length, characters (Obviously) and whether it's a pure lemon or a story with a lemon. I know many of you would prefer it if I just wrote pure lemons but I want to improve my writing and just writing one thing is no way to improve so it'll be every other. 1 pure lemon, then 1 story with lemon, then 1 pure lemon, etc, etc. Pure lemons will tend to be shorter, obviously as there is less story, but I will not decrease the quality. EVER. TELL ME IF IT IS NOT AS GOOD. I WILL EVEN CONSIDER REWRITE AND REFORMAT. QUALITY IS EVERYTHING TO ME. IF SOMETHING IS SHIT, SAY IT IS SHIT (Pro advice)
(Small update as I'm writing this, I may do a pure lemon in a month, we'll have to see. If I become a good writer and streamlined, I'll definitely try and do it. And for that I need good beta readers)
For those of you who want to know my process whilst writing this, I have a story up which is basically all my thoughts while trying to write all of this story. I've been going through a lot of shit but this makes me feel better, if I can past all the negativity to start off with. I hope you guys enjoyed the story, please review and try and get it out there or something.
Please tell me which character you want next! This is a community vote time! Vayne is number one atm, leave who you want next in your review
And we now have a community and a Forum! So now Authors can now actually talk to their readers! Rather than me just posting new chapters to talk to you guys. So please, from now on I wont actually put my messages in new chapters, I'll simply put them in the forum post.Someone suggested I do a Q&A if people are interested so if more people ask for it, I'll happily do it. myforums/Icarus-Aurora/2171200/ (Not sure if the link will work, put a line in the review if it doesn't, please tell me how to do it if you do know)
Please just add another sentence on the bottom of your review if you wanna join(Or just message me). Anyone is welcome to subscribe, but we scrutinize the staff. We look for the best (WADDLE, WE NEED TO TALK IF YOU'RE UP FOR COLLAB ON THIS COMMUNITY/FORUM THING)
KINDA PERSONAL MESSAGES TO READERS
Oh hey WaddleBuff, I swore I saw you whilst reading this…. Hmmm….. Ah, homage to the great king of this community.
If you guys want references made to you to feel like you're a part of it, I will actually do that. IF, big if here, IF you can think of a good reason or point of putting you in there. (Waddle has a pretty big history in the community, hence he gets a reference cause it fits with the story). So if you think you can make a good reason that'll fit in with the story, or maybe just fit with a character that might be mentioned(Not the main character obviously), I'll reference (Go put a character on the Forum, there's a page for creating characters so I'll have a look in there often, I'll put an Faerdir up as an example).
I will respond to any messages you leave in reviews or message me or anything. I like talking to people so please, ask me stuff if you need help or want to know stuff. I will post my responses on the community forum we have now so I hope you guys and girls join in cause it's fun. It's fun for readers, fun for writers, maybe we'll get something good started
Love you all
Icarus
Out
HOLY SHIT, THIS STORY IS 20234 WORDS
Man that is a fuck ton of information I just put out. I really hope people read it, it's important