Mystic: *enter theme for The Tudors here*
The Whispers of the Forest
A random person does not simply find the realm of the Blood Mages and stroll inside; they must break the seal that surrounds the area and prove direct lineage. Kuja's latest companion landed with a gentle bounce outside its borders, then flew off with nary a whisper of her feathers. Lady Hilda captured a small firefly in her palms, winked at the sorcerer by her side. "Open the doors to my true home." When Hilda opened her hands again, the firefly glowed crimson, hovered briefly before fluttering away into the shadows.
Kuja adjusted his hat, his clothes gold and purple, watched with an air of curiosity when the shadows shifted their form and became an archway. "Well, that's rather impressive."
The lady took his hand and led him through. "I hope you were paying attention to the spell and not my curves. You're one of us now, Kuja. My convert." Instead of darkness and danger, typical of many forests during the night, a realm of beauty and music appeared before them both. Violins, flutes, drums from troubadors; sweet-smelling foods from open-air ovens. Torches lit the pathways of homes built directly into the trees. Rope ladders and bridges connected the dwellings high above the ground.
He gave a wry smile. "You may have to show me again." The black cloak she wore to keep away the chill did not deter his imagination.
"It's nigh on impossible for a non-mage to enter our realm," she explained, stopping briefly at a bubbling cauldron. An elderly female sat on a nearby rocking chair. Hilda handed her a few gil. "Two please." The old woman acquiesced, ladled out two steaming mugs of the concoction. It smelled of apples and cinnamon, a strong cider laced with a touch of brandy.
"Gratitude," said Kuja.
"Ever wonder why some people claim the forests are haunted?" They walked side-by-side through the village, her arm linked around his. "The seal is fixed, a tapestry between the magical and the mundane. When a non-mage gets too close, they see only the whispers of our realm. Shadows that move, invisible voices, music with no origin."
"And what business do you have at a night market?" A minstrel wandered past, singing a melody about women and their bawdy ways.
"Just a clever play on words, sorcerer. I often come here for supplies; the Lindblum soil isn't rich enough to grow everything that I require." Hilda stopped momentarily, beneath the twin moons. Her fingers grazed Kuja's bare stomach, stared up at him with a smile of debauchery. "Also ...I'm meeting a man."
He scowled. "It'd best be me you're talking about, lady." When she didn't answer, he decided to tease. "And if it's not, for Gaia's sake, allow me to watch and join in the romp."
Four thousand gil ... per man. "Kuja!" Flustered, Hilda stepped back. "I did not mean it like that!" Still, eight thousand gil for ... no, nevermind.
"Then elaborate, and please," he said. "Be as explicit as possible."
"The senator has the proof I require so my marriage can be annulled."
It was so far opposite from his hopes that his shoulders slumped in disappointment. "Ah," was all he said.
"Kuja, do you really think I'd find it fun to be passed around and shared by a group of men like I was no more than a flagrin of wine?" She challenged him, stared at him without wavering her voice or stance. "That might have been a night's wages for Catherine's mother, but certainly not me. I promised you my body, no one else."
"I don't share my wine."
"That's right, you just keep it to yourself, drinking your fill."
"Or until I tire of it."
Hilda grabbed him by his buckle, pulling his body flush to hers. "You won't tire of me," she whispered, kissing him hard. A moan escaped him, and she pulled back, triumphant. "My arrangement is this, Kuja. I return to your palace as your mistress, your courtesan."
("You wanted a plague doctor? Well, you've got me.")
("Did you think I'd just jump into your arms or let you into my bed?")
That was only this morning. Less than a day after his arrival and they've already proven what Kuja really wanted in Lindblum. "Don't think for a minute, Hilda, that I wouldn't drag you to the nearest dark grove and force myself on you." One such place lay past the vendors peddling their wares. Kuja wrapped his arm about her waist and led her in its direction.
"Cool yourself, sorcerer." Hilda untangled herself from his grasp and attempted to lead him toward the largest home in the realm. "I'm quite sure the senator will allow us use of his spare room."
"No," came Kuja's stern reply. "You've teased me more than enough and I will have your promise fulfilled." He grabbed her wrist as he spoke, stole her back among the shadows, the thickest part of the trees. "Your senator will wait patiently."
She didn't protest, she couldn't. The current actions of Kuja is what she wanted, roughly handled and molested by his body. To have his hands roam over her curves, to have his mouth taste inch after inch of her flesh. While the twin moons casted their light through the grove of leaves, Hilda found herself stripped of her cloak and pushed on her back. Kuja wasted no time pinning her beneath him.
A virgin might have fainted due to his ferocious touch; the gripping, the biting, the suction on her neck; each kiss and grope left her anxious and on a slippery edge. He raised up briefly to tug down the front of her dress, exposing her front and tearing already weakened fabric. His other hand delved between her legs, parting them. Her head cloudy, breath heavy, she barely heard him unclasp his belt buckle.
One day. One stressful, tension-filled day is all that took for Hilda to reach out toward her former warden. Months of sleeping in separate bedchambers in Lindblum left her frustrated, unwanted, underappreciated. Cid's coldness left her hard of heart and bitter. Motherhood to an orphan summoner did little to lift her spirits. Just the one day with Kuja, one day by his side again, made her remember who she was, what she was; more importantly, what she wanted.
Love. Sex. Passion.
Sex.
Desired by a madman. But the desire was real, and it was dangerous.
And that danger made it feel so much better as they tumbled hard and fast on the grass. Each thrust, each slap, each scratch left the mages drenched in sweat and sticky with dirt. The fairies and sprites said to roam the world in the evening hours learned several new techniques. (Very few decided to avert their eyes.)
When a pair of blood mages came together (in more ways than one), the magic conjured by their writhing forms tended to breach the tapestry that hung over the realms. And Kuja, known for his background as a shadow mage, enjoyed the new spells coursing through his veins ...along with making a female moan and squirm. A group of hunters, warriors with no magic anywhere on their person, paused when they stumbled upon a forest clearing lit up by the dual moons.
"Hush, you morons!" One gruff man covered head to toe in grime held up his hand. "Do you hear that?"
His entourage remained quiet. "Is someone ...crying?" one finally asked.
"It's a woman," said the first. "A happy woman."
"Nymphs live here," stated another. "My mother told me stories when I was a lad."
Yet a third gave a rapacious grin. "Maybe we should locate them." It'd be a pleasant change of pace to have a female who knew what she was doing, instead of a terrified maid caught alone without an escort.
The hunters no longer searched for game, but for another form of meat that'd satisfy. Try as they might, they never found the source of the happy woman, only her whispers to the mage who had his way with her.
Her legs were sore afterward -no, more than that- tired and a bit wobbly, but not near as much as her most intimate of areas. Between her legs, where Kuja took his interest and gave her plenty back, stung with each step and dripped with his essence. She did her best to smooth out her hair and pick out the random leaf or two. "You're such a bastard," she said softly.
"Tell me you didn't enjoy yourself and I'll never lay you again." He pouted when she fixed her dress, fastened her cloak.
"You know I can't say that." His words were a bold-face lie anyway.
"Don't think I'm finished with you either." Kuja reached around, took her by the waist. "Your senator's spare room will see much use from us tonight." Men with magic always recovered more quickly than men who lacked the ancient chants. "You'll return to Lindblum filled with me, covered by my handprints, aching for more and I'll gladly oblige."
Hilda didn't blush, knew for certain that her nights in the palace would be spent in Kuja's bed. They made their way back through the village, past the shops, and toward the senator's home. If anyone suspected why the two emerged from the woods, they never voiced their thoughts, just gave a knowing smile here and there. "And in your palace?"
He caressed her cheek. "Wherever you want, and whenever you want."
She coyly laughed, flexed her wrists. Magic pulsed through her. "I shall hold you to those words, sorcerer." A solid house drew near, built into the thickest tree of the forest. It was split-level and of a comfortable lifestyle. "Now mind your manners."
The wooden door opened before Hilda dared to knock. "Madame Hilda!" exclaimed the older gentleman, hair white and eyes twinkling. "It is always such a pleasure!" He kissed her extended hand. "Do come in and make yourself at home."
"Thank you, sir." Their senator was a husky gentleman, olive-skinned and lover of the arts. Oil paintings of curvaceous, topless women hung on his walls.
"And who's this fine strapping man?" He took Kuja by the hand, shook it vigorously. "My word, he's a sorcerer! Madame, did you finally snare yourself a sorcerer?"
Kuja bowed like he still lived in Treno. "Lord Kuja, sir."
"A noble sorcerer! I bet he has a grand cock on him!"
Hilda pinched the bridge of her nose. "Aaaannnnd, it starts," she mumbled, sitting down.
"You may call me Noel," he said. "I hope you introduced Madame Hilda to your cock. A woman of her beauty doesn't deserve to be standing on her feet all day."
"Oh, not at all," Kuja agreed. "She should be properly kidnapped and ravished 'til dawn."
Hilda sighed, dropped her head in her hand. A servant girl smiled, asked, "Something to drink, madam?"
"Ale if you have it." Kuja would get along famously with the senator of her people. "Gentleman," she said, waving to catch their attention. "Can we kindly not talk about genitalia and get to the matter at hand?"
"But of course, dear." Noel sauntered over to his desk and rummaged through the top drawer. "Let's see, here we are. Written evidence that I denied your claim to marry a non-mage, that you were in no position to wed a pathetic engineer." A thick scroll landed in her lap. "I bet you're in lots of positions with this sorcerer! I always said you had the graces to become the most popular and well-sought after courtesan Gaia laid eyes on."
Kuja nodded, trailed a finger along Hilda's collarbone. "I said that as well, sir. Are you aware that I did kidnap her before?"
The ale was a welcome distraction; Hilda sipped it quickly.
"Sir David asked about you the other day," said Noel. He took a goblet of ale himself. "Word about your annulment spread quicker than a Dali farm girl whose parents are gone for the day."
Hilda's drink paused in mid-air. "Sir David? Really?"
"That blue mage from Treno?" Kuja queried, eyebrow raised. "Tall lanky man, brown hair that tends to -"
"Stick up in all directions? Prefers the auction house?" Hilda nodded. "He used to court me. Before Cid."
The sorcerer gave a hearty laugh. "So you're that sultry blonde who got away. My, my; he talked for hours about you, Hilda. Such a small little world we live in."
Still no blush from the lady. "How is Sir David?"
Noel shrugged. "Quite well, has a slew of bastard children."
"Surprise, surprise," said Kuja.
"His current mistress is very good with them. She's a white mage, very doting." Noel winked. "When she's not playing vixen in his bed."
"Joan," said Kuja. "Sweet girl."
"You met?" asked Hilda, voice suspicious.
Kuja flicked back his hair. "You know I love the auction house." His breath caught in his throat when Hilda untied her cloak, let it fall off her shoulders. Purplish marks, bruises from his teeth, marred the usual soft skin. She uncrossed, then re-crossed her long legs, letting the fabric of her dress slide up her thighs.
Noel grinned very wickedly at his guests interactions. His subjects always appreciated physical interactions, indulged themselves with nary shame nor hesitation. "You two are welcome to stay in my spare chambers for the night." He eyed the serving girl standing quietly in the corner, her small waist and delicate ankles. "I believe I shall retire myself."
"Thank you, sir." Hilda stood and took Kuja by his hand, leading him away to privacy and a soft bed. The door barely clicked shut before he pounced on her again.