"Oh, so we are here to play a game." Xelloss stared at the chessboard somberly. "I took your previous actions to mean that you had forfeited."
"I never forfeit."
"It seems that you've already made your move." Xelloss raised an eyebrow and leaned back. The butt of the knife knocked against the back of his chair, paralysing him for five long seconds. He kept his mental composure through the attack and smiled at his opponent as soon as he was able. "Hasty of you. Desperation whelps runt plans."
"I took four years to place my piece. It's your turn now."
Xelloss shook his head. "Not now. I always prefer to think about my next move for at least ten years. It keeps things clean."
"You have ten minutes. After that, the game will progress a bit faster than it used to. I hope you won't be rusty."
"Ah, but you forget." Xelloss waggled a finger in the air. "I enjoy thinking on my feet." As he outwardly smiled, Xelloss made an inward grimace. He could barely feel his legs.
* * *
Firia stripped Xelloss down and tossed the wet clothing aside. The garments were too torn to salvage, in her opinion. She rubbed Xelloss with a towel and pondered whether she should just throw his clothes in the trash. Firia snorted at the thought. 'Raw garbage indeed!'
Getting Xelloss into bed was as much of a chore as getting him out of the bath. It had been easier with the blanket wrapped around him. Now his legs got in the way. Firia grunted while trying not to stub Xelloss on anything sharp. Where did he get these long legs? Firia would muse on which relative he'd gotten them from, but with Mazoku there was no telling. For all she knew Xelloss' family had long tails.
Firia laid Xelloss on the bed and dragged the blanket there over him, tucking it around his chilly form. She fetched the other covers from the bathroom floor and draped them on top of the blanket. But this wasn't going to help anything, Firia realized, because for the blankets to warm Xelloss up he would have to warm them first.
'He can't fight the cold like this. He has no body heat.' Firia looked at the small iron stove in the middle of the room, her gaze running along the stovepipe growing from it through the ceiling. 'I'll have to make him some.'
Firewood was a bit difficult to find. Firia kept quite a few hefty pieces handy for her large cooking stove in the kitchen. The stove in the bedroom was only useful in the winter months, though, so she didn't bother to chop it small enough during the rest of the year. Firia walked to the woodpile outside and sized it up. Handling an ax would be a pain right now...
"Who needs to chop it, though?" Firia hefted a sizeable length and broke it over her knee. "I can make do with what I have."
Applying her draconic strength to the firewood made for quick work, and after a few refreshing crashes Firia had enough fuel to keep the room warm for days. She cast a furtive glance through the bedroom window. Did she wake Xelloss up with all that noise? Actually, the mazoku looked like he might be snoring. Firia raised an eyebrow. "What kind of lullabyes did Zelas sing to her children?"
Bearing an armload of fuel for the fire, Firia walked back through the house and into the bedroom. Starting the fire was a snap after loading wood into the stove - no dragon is ever in need of a light. The room steadily warmed up to a temperature that was almost uncomfortable to Firia, but she ignored it. After checking to see that the fire would remain steady for a long time, Firia went to the bed and sat beside Xelloss' sleeping form.
She gently brushed the back of her hand over his face. "You always look too innocent when you're asleep. It's unfair to me." Firia trailed her fingers upward, over the closed lips, against the cold cheek, through the hair falling across the forehead. She swept a few stray strands away from the center of Xelloss' brow before she closed her eyes and settled her palms there.
It was this part that Firia always had to concentrate on. An exchange of energy could take many forms - be it an argument, a spell or a kiss. A few months into their relationship, Xelloss had to talk with Firia about how she sent energy. As a priestess she had been trained very early on to channel the energy of Ceipheed or the Fire Dragon King in whatever activities she was engaged in. Her thoughts were always to be centered on preservation, healing, and purity. Enacting the rituals and roles of a priestess for so many years had made her accustomed to using the energies in everything she did. Firia had never realized how subconscious some of her magic was until Xelloss brought it to her attention himself.
"Now, it's all fine and good for a Priestess of the Fire Dragon King to live in the same spirit that she worships, but this is dangerous. Even ignoring that this energy is the worst poison to me, it's still dangerous for you to channel without thinking. Magic should never be automatic. Habit can turn into error, and thought must never give way to memory." He laughed, shaking his finger at her. "Besides, now I'll have to train it out of you."
Firia frowned, concentrating not on purifying her energy of darkness, but on purifying it of the light that was Xelloss' poison. His words from that lesson echoed in her mind. "It's really simple, but everyone likes to complicate their methods. All you have to do is approach a problem on its own terms instead of dragging in your past work. Those experiences taught you how to feel magic, but only your will can cast it. Also, please don't kill me." The last part stung her with its possible irony. In his weakened state, Firia could very well kill Xelloss by forgetting to ground from a nonlethal source.
Energy was pouring through her hands now, clean of dark or light. She sank down in her mind, spiraling down a stairway out of this cold physical reality and into the astral world. Physically Xelloss was in no further danger. Here, however, there could be much work to do.
Exiting her own astral grounds was as simple as walking. She always began a journey in her own spiritual home, a temple-kitchen filled with the smell of baking cookies and motherly devotion. She stepped away and out, one step becoming two or ten in this realm. Outside there was darkness, a star filled with skies, each star a possiblity that could be at her fingertips in the time it took to reach out her hand. But she didn't want anything that was out there. She wanted to go down.
Xelloss' dwelling was always under her home in the astral realm, and he would never say why. All Firia knew was that any time she looked for him here, he was always right down there, usually looking up at her. She dropped to the level of Xelloss' home here, hesitant to enter. Every time before when she had tried this, he had invited her in.
Firia put her hand to the smooth, auburn granite that encased Xelloss' dwelling. She could feel him, sleeping inside with the door unlocked. She parted the curtain of stone with her hands and stepped inside, the rock flowing in behind her to leave a seamless wall.
Firia stood in the darkness, almost drawing a breath before she realized that she couldn't do that on this plane. A hand, soft as a cloak of silk, cupped the swell of her neck.
"Straight into my hand. You've walked right into a trap, you know." Firia felt teeth stroke her chin before she was pulled into the floor.
"I never forfeit."
"It seems that you've already made your move." Xelloss raised an eyebrow and leaned back. The butt of the knife knocked against the back of his chair, paralysing him for five long seconds. He kept his mental composure through the attack and smiled at his opponent as soon as he was able. "Hasty of you. Desperation whelps runt plans."
"I took four years to place my piece. It's your turn now."
Xelloss shook his head. "Not now. I always prefer to think about my next move for at least ten years. It keeps things clean."
"You have ten minutes. After that, the game will progress a bit faster than it used to. I hope you won't be rusty."
"Ah, but you forget." Xelloss waggled a finger in the air. "I enjoy thinking on my feet." As he outwardly smiled, Xelloss made an inward grimace. He could barely feel his legs.
* * *
Firia stripped Xelloss down and tossed the wet clothing aside. The garments were too torn to salvage, in her opinion. She rubbed Xelloss with a towel and pondered whether she should just throw his clothes in the trash. Firia snorted at the thought. 'Raw garbage indeed!'
Getting Xelloss into bed was as much of a chore as getting him out of the bath. It had been easier with the blanket wrapped around him. Now his legs got in the way. Firia grunted while trying not to stub Xelloss on anything sharp. Where did he get these long legs? Firia would muse on which relative he'd gotten them from, but with Mazoku there was no telling. For all she knew Xelloss' family had long tails.
Firia laid Xelloss on the bed and dragged the blanket there over him, tucking it around his chilly form. She fetched the other covers from the bathroom floor and draped them on top of the blanket. But this wasn't going to help anything, Firia realized, because for the blankets to warm Xelloss up he would have to warm them first.
'He can't fight the cold like this. He has no body heat.' Firia looked at the small iron stove in the middle of the room, her gaze running along the stovepipe growing from it through the ceiling. 'I'll have to make him some.'
Firewood was a bit difficult to find. Firia kept quite a few hefty pieces handy for her large cooking stove in the kitchen. The stove in the bedroom was only useful in the winter months, though, so she didn't bother to chop it small enough during the rest of the year. Firia walked to the woodpile outside and sized it up. Handling an ax would be a pain right now...
"Who needs to chop it, though?" Firia hefted a sizeable length and broke it over her knee. "I can make do with what I have."
Applying her draconic strength to the firewood made for quick work, and after a few refreshing crashes Firia had enough fuel to keep the room warm for days. She cast a furtive glance through the bedroom window. Did she wake Xelloss up with all that noise? Actually, the mazoku looked like he might be snoring. Firia raised an eyebrow. "What kind of lullabyes did Zelas sing to her children?"
Bearing an armload of fuel for the fire, Firia walked back through the house and into the bedroom. Starting the fire was a snap after loading wood into the stove - no dragon is ever in need of a light. The room steadily warmed up to a temperature that was almost uncomfortable to Firia, but she ignored it. After checking to see that the fire would remain steady for a long time, Firia went to the bed and sat beside Xelloss' sleeping form.
She gently brushed the back of her hand over his face. "You always look too innocent when you're asleep. It's unfair to me." Firia trailed her fingers upward, over the closed lips, against the cold cheek, through the hair falling across the forehead. She swept a few stray strands away from the center of Xelloss' brow before she closed her eyes and settled her palms there.
It was this part that Firia always had to concentrate on. An exchange of energy could take many forms - be it an argument, a spell or a kiss. A few months into their relationship, Xelloss had to talk with Firia about how she sent energy. As a priestess she had been trained very early on to channel the energy of Ceipheed or the Fire Dragon King in whatever activities she was engaged in. Her thoughts were always to be centered on preservation, healing, and purity. Enacting the rituals and roles of a priestess for so many years had made her accustomed to using the energies in everything she did. Firia had never realized how subconscious some of her magic was until Xelloss brought it to her attention himself.
"Now, it's all fine and good for a Priestess of the Fire Dragon King to live in the same spirit that she worships, but this is dangerous. Even ignoring that this energy is the worst poison to me, it's still dangerous for you to channel without thinking. Magic should never be automatic. Habit can turn into error, and thought must never give way to memory." He laughed, shaking his finger at her. "Besides, now I'll have to train it out of you."
Firia frowned, concentrating not on purifying her energy of darkness, but on purifying it of the light that was Xelloss' poison. His words from that lesson echoed in her mind. "It's really simple, but everyone likes to complicate their methods. All you have to do is approach a problem on its own terms instead of dragging in your past work. Those experiences taught you how to feel magic, but only your will can cast it. Also, please don't kill me." The last part stung her with its possible irony. In his weakened state, Firia could very well kill Xelloss by forgetting to ground from a nonlethal source.
Energy was pouring through her hands now, clean of dark or light. She sank down in her mind, spiraling down a stairway out of this cold physical reality and into the astral world. Physically Xelloss was in no further danger. Here, however, there could be much work to do.
Exiting her own astral grounds was as simple as walking. She always began a journey in her own spiritual home, a temple-kitchen filled with the smell of baking cookies and motherly devotion. She stepped away and out, one step becoming two or ten in this realm. Outside there was darkness, a star filled with skies, each star a possiblity that could be at her fingertips in the time it took to reach out her hand. But she didn't want anything that was out there. She wanted to go down.
Xelloss' dwelling was always under her home in the astral realm, and he would never say why. All Firia knew was that any time she looked for him here, he was always right down there, usually looking up at her. She dropped to the level of Xelloss' home here, hesitant to enter. Every time before when she had tried this, he had invited her in.
Firia put her hand to the smooth, auburn granite that encased Xelloss' dwelling. She could feel him, sleeping inside with the door unlocked. She parted the curtain of stone with her hands and stepped inside, the rock flowing in behind her to leave a seamless wall.
Firia stood in the darkness, almost drawing a breath before she realized that she couldn't do that on this plane. A hand, soft as a cloak of silk, cupped the swell of her neck.
"Straight into my hand. You've walked right into a trap, you know." Firia felt teeth stroke her chin before she was pulled into the floor.