Lodoss is copyright of Ryo Mizuno I don't own it and all you people better be fucking happy about that because I'd kill it so badly.
She moved gracefully through the castle, she who the guards avoided but looked upon with a dedicated and collective scorn. Her thoughts were focused on one man, but one man. How this one man could invade her thoughts, block out her carefully plotted mission made five hundred years past, she did not know. She had a hint - she thought it was because of the man that held her in his arms and kissed her, stroked her hair, suckled her delicious nipples, curled his hand in the deceptively soft curls that lay between her legs and pounded into the depths of her body with only the elegance of a man fair used to doing such things. But then she realizes there is something different between the two, that the one in the far past had uttered sweet words to her that she found empty later, and the one now did no such thing, made no such promises, just did the same things to her body as the former.
Her lavender dress swirled around her legs as she clasped the cloak around her throat and stepped out into the wildness outside the castle. She silently cursed her thoughts, her dirty, impure thoughts that were useless to her now. He was not important enough to garner this much of her. He was but a small pawn in the plan. He was nothing. He was just a toy, he was just something she played with. Just because she moved her fingers through the black strands of his hair, ran her fingers teasingly down his chest and forced him back on the bed so she could mount him, feel that wonderful cock inside of - damnit. She had done this before with countless men and women. Why did this one evoke such feelings in her? Why was he becoming a fundamental part of a life reserved for nothing but balance on a tiny accursed island?
Her steps lead her into the camp outside the castle, where tents were pitched as a substitute for lack of lodging in the rock walls themselves. He had one, she knew exactly where it was. The one in the center, the one few dared walk into at night but her. Her, and the one with the honeyed skin. When the guards pulled back the tent flaps, the honeyed one was not there. She asked the dark-haired man why, and he did not answer, but looked at her bitterly. Then laughter rose in her throat, dark and delicious. He loved the honeyed one, she knew, but he would not admit it.
So she stepped over to him and kissed him on the lips. He growled and pulled her down to him. The kisses were rough, his hands on her skin ruthless. He bit her, not once, but twice. His fingers dug into her skin as he thrust into her over and over, a searing but beautiful sensation. They both came, his seed darkening the cloth of the cot. She pulled herself up, putting her clothes on again, and walked away into the night.
Little did she see him shaking his head as she left. Little did she know he felt the same as she. Little would she know what would come and break her Chessboard of Life.
kuja no miko
