Hey, guys! Seems like you guys have enjoyed the last chapter, huh? For those who missed Illumi, don't worry, he's finally back! I'll try to put his pov's more frequently from now on, let's hope you'll like it as much as you usually do. Anyway, this chapter clarifies a couple of things regarding the last chapter. Let's see if you can get the hints I tried to implement.
About the art I promised to show you guys, I must let you know that I messed up the order of the chapters, so it'll be posted at the 13th update, ok?
Please do not forget: updates take place every Monday and Friday from 12pm to 5 pm PST!
See you,
—Cherry
From the balcony, Illumi had a privileged view many could only dream of.
The entire York New City unfolded in front of him.
Wind blew his hair softly, the smell of something floral invading his nostrils. Rose petals.
He kept staring at the city. Everyone looked like harmless little ants from that height, not that he saw them as anything different when they were face to face. Under the moonlight, the sight glowed softly. His own skin looked smoother and more vivid thanks to it, almost as if it was made of pure opals.
Behind him, there was a muffled noise. A sigh. He wasn't alone. Agile steps echoed soon after, calmer than he would have expected.
Although someone else was present in the room, he remained calm and relaxed, certain that there was no harmful intent coming from the person. He didn't know why, but he felt comfortable. Like he had gone through that situation many times.
A warm body hugged his slightly cool back. Curvy, soft, feminine. She pressed her cheek against him, searching for a comfortable position.
He sighed, not necessarily angry or bored, but giving her a hint that it wasn't a good time to act playful.
An amused giggle left the woman's lips and she guided her hands through his long, muscular arms slowly. Her sharp nails scratched the pale skin, leaving a red trail behind.
Illumi didn't react to the touch. Somehow, he knew he rarely did. He also knew it was entertaining for her, like it was some kind of hard earned prize. She always wanted, no, demanded all of his attention on herself.
Shivers ran down his spine as soft, moist lips kissed his skin from his lumbar to his shoulders, each one more delicate and affectionate than the previous.
His Adam's apple bobbed quickly, but he kept looking forward. This act of hers wouldn't affect him.
Her hands touched his trapezius muscle, massaging it for a few seconds before they followed down his pectorals, scratching them harder. She licked his neck. Kissed. Nibbled it so softly that he squeezed the balcony's parapet.
With each movement, Illumi realized that it became more difficult to stay focused on his knuckles — now white due to the effort to keep himself calm.
To keep his self-control.
She surely knew how to test it.
When she reached his pant's waistband, toying with the fabric mischievously while avoiding going further down, the woman giggled again, fingers drawing invisible lines on the glimmering skin.
His breathing became heavier.
Her lips stopped right beside his ear and she moaned.
A cheap way to tease him. Too simple. Too easy.
And it was intoxicating.
He turned around and captured the warm, plump lips between his own. He was tired of this stupid game of cat and mouse.
If she wanted him, she would have him.
Tongues caressing, hands exploring, lips dominating. Vulgar. Inappropriate. Sinful.
He gripped her waist tightly, drawing a sigh from her. Her silk nightgown rubbed against his exposed body, creating goosebumps. Her smell, citrusy and marine, was the only thing he could sense at that moment besides her vicious touch.
Cruel.
Demanding.
She pulled him closer, a hand on the bulge pressing forcefully against her tender thigh. Pure lust emanated from their thirsty bodies.
A scene that would make even the most libertine prostitutes ashamed.
Illumi left her lips, a line of saliva still attaching them, and descended to her golden neck. His wet tongue followed her artery's path, feeling it pulse avidly. Her body reacted beautifully. Reacted to him. He smiled briefly before biting down harshly.
The woman yelped, a sound with hints of both pain and satisfaction, and grabbed his broad shoulders to support herself as he licked the bloody wound.
She always took whatever he gave her. And so, so obediently.
He went further down, ready to give the same treatment to her ample bosom, when he looked at her face.
He froze.
Staring back at him, were two flaming violet eyes.
Medea's eyes.
Illumi jolted up, his black eyes wide in shock and sweat dripping down his body. His hair was entirely messed up, unlike the way it used to look on every morning, and some coal colored strands stuck to his forehead.
He stared at the wall, not knowing how to react nor how to process what had happened for a few seconds.
Or rather, what he had dreamed of.
Wet lips.
Hard nipples.
Soft, almost melodic moans.
His own aroused grunts.
He shook his head.
Disturbing Illumi Zoldyck was a rare feat, but somehow Medea Lanfort was able to do it easier than he'd like.
He felt like he could vomit.
It was impossible for him to remain calm after that unsettling nightmare.
It was unusual enough for him to have wet dreams, but that damned thief showing up in one of them was the most absurd thing he could ever think of.
He grimaced in disgust.
How could his brain conjure up something so scandalously insane?
Illumi stood up, his jaw clenched and his nails piercing his hands, and tossed his blanket to the side. But when he looked down, he almost ripped his hair out.
He was hard. So, so very hard.
Killing himself didn't seem too unreasonable, all of a sudden.
He took a deep breath and counted to three before getting up and walking towards the bathroom, undressing as fast as he could.
Cool water dripped down his neck, leaving a dormant trail where it touched and slowly calming his hot body, which was still overflowing with arousal.
Disgusting.
Repulsive.
Abnormal.
He huffed as he took the shampoo and applied it to his scalp, massaging it carefully to clear his mind and rinsing it off afterwards. He poured the liquid soap on a sponge and rubbed his muscles hard, trying to get rid of any remnants of the erotic dream he had — if he could even call it that.
His cock surely could.
But the more he tried to rub his skin, the more the thought sank into his mind. It was like a pestilence that didn't stop multiplying and draining the life of the surrounding beings. That was precisely how he saw the woman.
She was a plague. An annoying one.
She had to be eliminated before she caused more harm to him in the future.
He applied the conditioner and waited a bit, untangling his long locks gently, before tilting his head back to allow the water to clean it.
Biting the inside of his cheek, he looked down at his arms and legs, completely red from the aggressive and repetitive treatment. Then, he faced his manhood. He sighed, relieved. It was flaccid again.
Illumi took the brown fluffy towel and dried his limbs and hair, wrapping it up so that it wouldn't make a mess on the floor.
With a brush in his hands, he made his way back to his room, dressing quickly.
The black linen pants he wore were comfortable to fight and elegant enough if he needed to blend among the crowd in more refined places. His dark, almost grayish blouse had long sleeves that were buttoned on his wrist and its collar was high, covering his neck and allowing him to move without difficulty.
He unwrapped the hair towel and placed it on the back of the chair, brushing the dark locks as he stared at the kanzashi atop of his desk. His eyes narrowed. It gleamed defiantly, as if attempting to remind Illumi of that unsettling sensation.
It was a struggle for him not to take it and break it into a thousand pieces. It really was. But he restrained itself.
He had plans for it.
Illumi sat down facing the notebook and rubbed his face before opening it on the pages he had stolen during his last contract two weeks ago. In a delicate calligraphy, at the beginning of the page, there was the name of the place where Medea had lived before passing the exam.
The infamous city of Proyca.
When he discovered the information, he hadn't had the insight to notice what that might imply. But now, associating the name with the hair ornament she used as a weapon, he had realized the most obvious thing: Medea had lived in a brothel during her childhood.
His grandfather had once told him about Proyca.
He had said that the best prostitutes came from there because they were trained in the arts of pleasure from a tender age, and admitted that he visited the city in his youth. He guaranteed that nothing compared to the moments he spent there.
If Illumi recalled correctly, it was his grandfather who had also said that it was common for them to receive identification symbols when they reached the age of majority, that is, when they finished their training at age 11. The objects often were hair ornaments, but could be anything at all, and had certain shapes that were not used by any other courtesan at the brothel.
Surely, that fact about Medea's past had stirred his head, causing those uncomfortable thoughts, especially as he realized he could use that to mentally destroy her before finally killing her.
Illumi smirked.
Oh, it would be so wonderful to tell her that her dirty little secret would be exposed to the Association! She would have no way of escaping the judgment from others, not even in death. That would tarnish her perfect reputation forever.
But the real satisfaction for him would be to see her in despair as he pinned her to the ground and told her what he would do right before slitting her throat with her kanzashi, and causing her to choke in her own blood to death.
Only then would Illumi feel avenged and peaceful again.
Smiling, he got up with the towel in hands, putting it in its proper place in the bathroom before closing the door. Picking up his weapons, he made sure not to forget the hair ornament. Sure, it was stolen, but it was useful. He wouldn't let such a lethal object lying around when he could put it to good use.
He could already feel the sweet taste of victory on his lips.
Illumi was about to open his room's door when a memory from his dream came to his mind once again.
Medea, completely out of breath, blushing hard as she stared at him through half lidded eyes.
Vulnerable.
Her breasts rising and falling rapidly as her swollen red lips opened slightly, begging to be taken once more by his own once again.
Soft hands exploring his torso.
His arms.
His back.
His aching cock.
He shook his head and opened the door, prepared to conclude his contract of the day.
Twenty apprentices stood on sophisticated drawn silver semicircles. A reference to the Waning Moon, one of the multiple faces of the Great Changeable.
Their ceremonial tunics, simple and white and with sleeves long enough to cover their hands, were identical. The fabric was fluid and smooth to the touch, making it seem like it was nothing but a soft cloud surrounding the bodies.
Medea was calm.
All she did was keep staring at her bare feet, head bowed down before the rest of the clergy surrounding the young women, submissive and compliant. She knew their attentive eyes were searching for any flaws. Still, she kept quiet.
They had been at the ceremonial hall for a couple of hours now, following the order of remaining silent and still. She already expected this. Nothing in the Order was so simple. Their mental limitations were tested way before their bodies.
Next to her, a girl moved her right foot minimally, trying to find a more comfortable position for herself. Medea blinked, feeling sorry for her. Soon after, one of the Minor Supporters announced that she had been disqualified due to her disobedience.
There was a fuss as he guided her to the large oak doors, trying to calm her down. Unfortunately, that only made the situation worse. The young woman threw a tantrum, refusing to leave. It was so annoyingly disturbing that three other candidates raised their heads, horrified, and instantly widened their eyes once they realized what they'd done.
Other clergy members removed them from the hall.
Medea resisted the urge to smile.
Now there were only sixteen competitors.
Her legs were slightly numb, but she was determined to endure it, after all, she had to spend days on end in a similar situation during her Hunter exam. She could handle a few hours.
The Moon was almost entirely exposed in the sky, and only a few weak sun rays appeared behind the tops of the trees. The twilight was near its end.
They're probably going to start the next test when the Moon is shining with all its splendor, she thought, relieved. It won't take much longer to move again.
Her nape was aching and her shoulders felt way too heavy, all of a sudden. She took a deep breath. This was a momentary discomfort.
After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, massive doors opened with a bang. Footsteps resounded through the hall, confident and authoritative, but too loud for the ears of someone who had spent almost four hours in a deafening silence.
Medea kept her head bowed and waited until the figure was positioned in order to give the endorsement for the end of the stage.
The watchers stood on both sides of the hall and bowed down, Medea focused not to imitate them. She was still being tested, she reminded herself. Immediately after that, two candidates were disqualified for leaving their position, and then were guided out. The absence of sound became present again.
Drops of sweat dripped from her nape to her collarbone, where they deposited for a short time before rolling through the valley of her breasts.
Suddenly, a voice broke the silence: "May the Great Changeable, the Lady of Heavens, be praised among us!" She shouted. "Glorious are her ways, for they have brought us fourteen young apprentices for the Act of Choice!"
"Praise the Great Glorious!" Exclaimed the members who were not under trial.
"Under this moonlight, oh Ever-Living Lady, I present your apprentices, waiting for your ordinances! Arise, Maidens of the Moon, and cry for her guidance." The woman orientated.
Medea sighed, moving again, and briefly looked at the person responsible for the ritual.
She had long honey-colored hair that fell down her shoulders in ringlets, matching in tone with her golden satin tunic. It had a deep slit that uncovered part of her breasts and navel, and its several jewels, distributed throughout the length of the fabric, made her look like a replica of the Sun itself. Her posture was imposing and severe, like a ruler's. Medea felt a chill run through her spine as cold, ocean eyes stared at her.
Fear was a common emotion that took hold of her whenever she met the High Priestess. She could never look directly at her for a long time. It was unbearable. The feeling of inferiority was always present when the woman was near.
The apprentices proceeded with the ritual, celebrating the goddess with chants:
"Oh Eternal Goddess, give us knowledge about your ways. Take us out of our ignorance with your Sparks of Heavens."
Their bodies had been trained for moments like those, they already knew how to perform the invocation dances. That way the Waning Moon would intervene in their destinies, ready to close obsolete cycles.
Medea hoped the goddess rejoiced in her adoration sufficiently to respond to her with the guidance about her mission, so she gave her best in every move. Dealing with the Goddess of the Moon was something delicate — she offered knowledge in one hand and she took it away with the other; she guided her servants, but also deceived them.
One of her many titles was the Great Changeable for a reason. She was as unstable and unpredictable as the phases of her heavenly symbol.
As she twirled in her dance, Medea approached one of the pilasters that connected the temple's semi protected area and the outer courtyard, the lunar rays reaching the marble floor and reflecting on her violet eyes. A warmth gradually expanded through the rest of her body until her tired legs gave away.
When her knees touched the floor, she gasped, surprised, and tried to protect herself with her arms. She waited for the impact, but it never came.
Looking up, she saw Sister Iseayra holding her by the arms, smiling with pride at her.
All around, six other young women found themselves in the same situation as her, fallen on the ground and confused, while the remaining seven candidates looked at each, visibly worried.
The High Priestess gestured for the seven women who were being supported to approach her, being readily obeyed. All of them bowed, waiting for instructions.
Medea's head was a little dizzy. She had to grip the ground so as not to fall again, everything was spinning. What was this hot feeling that consumed her?
"You will follow to the third stage. The Lady herself has chosen you." She explained with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "What you felt before you fell was the Spark of Heavens that the Goddess poured onto you, so be honored. Not everyone has this unique experience."
"Yes, Mistress." They replied, as it was expected from them.
"All of you, one at a time, will close your eyes and tell me what you see or hear when you focus. That will be the indication of what your next mission will be." The woman approached the first candidate and raised her chin, staring at her eyes. "Tell me, what do you see?"
There was a quick pause until she responded: " A waterfall."
"You've been assigned with the task of recovering the Soul Stone in the heart of the Viserla waterfall." Medea noticed that the priestess' blue eyes were now as golden as her hair and frowned. That certainly was a bad thing. "Here is a warning from thy mistress. Beware of the thunder, it most certainly brings the night." The girl's eyes widened and she nodded anxiously, surprised to see the leader prophesying in person.
The woman followed the same procedure with all the apprentices. The names of places that Medea had never heard of fell from her lips along with diverse prophecies. Cliffs, citadels, caves, among other things were the places designated for each woman. There, they were supposed to locate and obtain an item that would guarantee their position in the fourth phase of the selection.
She quite hoped the place where her mysterious object would be was a desert. She would adore to explore a place like that.
The High Priestess approached her, eyes shining, and touched her head, cold hand sinking into the thick white strands and squeezing her scalp. "Tell me, child, what do you see?"
Medea closed her eyes. The warmth within herself ran through all her limbs, almost assuring her that the Moon would guide her at that moment. Her brows furrowed. There was nothing but darkness.
Was there something wrong? Had the Great Changeable changed her mind about her?
Her sweaty hands slipped along the smooth surface of the marble floor, making her even more apprehensive.
This was bad.
Really bad.
If she told the priestess about the issue, she would most certainly be expelled from the next level. She kept her lips sealed. There was no way she would miss another opportunity to accomplish something memorable in her life. She refused to receive another no, even if it was from a goddess.
Medea clenched her fists with renewed energy as she tried to focus.
Again she saw nothing, but this time something different happened. There was a sweet aroma in her nostrils. It resembled burnt flowers and lemon, or perhaps grapefruit, mixed with honey.
Even if she had traveled to several places after she became a Sea Hunter, that specific fragrance was unknown to her. She had never felt it in her entire life. It was nauseating.
"I smell chrysanthemums and burnt poppies. Something citrusy. Honey..." Suddenly, as if a brush started to paint over a blank canvas, Medea saw the outline of a huge Mountain and closed her eyes, focusing on the details. "I see a mountain, surrounded by an extensive forest, and clouds, many clouds." She opened her eyes.
The priestess had a weird expression on her face, almost like frustration.
"You have been assigned with the task of retrieving the Scroll of Tchingsen on the Kukuroo Mountain." The once silent hall was suddenly filled with whispers, and Medea raised an eyebrow in confusion. Was there something wrong with that place? She'd never heard of it before, so why did everyone look at her in horror? "Here is a riddle from thy Lady. Before the sunset, the Dragon lurks his prey, but when night comes, he shall devour it. Watch out for cards carried by the wind or you may regret it."
People couldn't look away from her, some eyes were filled with pity, others with shock, but some of her competitors seemed satisfied with her fate.
She was immediately sure she was on a razor edge.
The priestess made a sign for the watchmen to remove the selected ones from the hall and Iseayra approached the young woman, concerned.
Yeah, I'm fucked.
She lifted her by the arm and pulled her towards the staircase quickly, putting a great distance between them and the other members of the Order.
"I'm sorry, sister, so, so sorry! I shouldn't have encouraged you to do this!" She mumbled as they climbed the stairs. "What did I do? I should have told you to screw everything up on purpose, none of this would have happened if—"
"Sister, please calm down." Interrupted Medea. "I'm already nervous about not knowing why everyone's so shocked, if you don't calm down I'll faint." She pulled the woman to the first empty room she saw and pushed her in, closing the door behind her. "What do you know about Kukuroo Mountain?"
She sighed. "It's located in the Republic of Padokea, in Dentora more specifically. It's the home of monsters in people's clothing, darling lily. The most vicious killers money can buy live there. It's said that no one who saw the face of one of the Zoldycks survived. Even a description of their appearance is worth millions of Jenny."
Medea calmed down a little, at least now she knew what it was about. "Never heard of them."
"Probably because the Hunter Association takes a lot of your time these days. Besides, your past in Proyca didn't allow much contact with the outside world..."
"You're right about that." She chuckled bitterly. "But they're not much different from me, then. Nice payment is what brought me here, isn't it?"
"Medea! This is nonsense, of course you are different! You serve the Ever-Living Golden Goddess, all you ever did was out of obedience." Honestly, she didn't see a difference. Both only wanted the best for themselves, it wasn't necessarily something bad. Or was it? "There's no way you'll get out of that place alive and it's my fault!"
"Sister, rest assured, I have no intention of dying before fulfilling my purpose in the Order." Medea guaranteed as she smiled to the priestess. "You said that if there's someone who can handle this mission and become the next minor priestess, that someone is me, right? Then keep that in mind. I'll retrieve the Scroll of Tchingsen and honor the Moon, be sure of it."
"But…"
"Besides, what could go wrong with trying to steal from the Zoldyck family?"
Someone's a bit too invested in Medea's past, it seems O.O
—
Kukuroo Mountain and its inhabitants remain a mystery for Medea. Will she be able to fulfill her mission successfully or will she perish, like many others have in their attempt to invade it?
To find out the answer to these and other questions, stay tuned for the next chapters~