“WIIIIIIND!”
“FOOLISHNESSSSSS!”
Two cute voices cry out, far kinder than the cresting wave that crashes to a stop.
“Utterly magical.” A serpent skids to a stop with the calming waters, in awe of the snorting kelpies that continue onward to rejoin their herd and abandon their former playmates.
“Thanks be to friends of the forest!”
“Far too regularly, consequences of one’s personal fulfillment be unbearable!”
“Why ‘mine’!? Where else would you ever experience that, Neesiette!?”
“Requesting it not, this lady states.”
(Dolphins have it hard…)
When the lake turns gentle, a dead dolphin and drowned dog bob to the surface.
After calmly choking up what might be a gallon of water, the boy swims with great difficulty to retrieve the floating board that tries to escape. With it as a rescue spot, he drags a white corpse fully onto it so he can press up into her chest and force her to vomit her lungs out.
“… Ghhhk…!
Kol, said — ‘RIGHT PATH’!”
(After we’d already been pulled into the left fork, idiot!)
The urge in his closed fist to crunch her cheek subsides, if only because he’s too tired to move. Climbing and running are simple motions, but staying atop a constantly jumping board leaves his legs numbly buzzing with utter completeness of exertion.
Even if they weren’t done for, Adris is finished after the bogus fork’s windmill of hard water chopped them both up. That Kol wants to blame him leaves his guts heaving again after already circling through the endless torrent!
(We were keeping up with Ave until the very last minute, then she zipped out of sight. I’ll chop those horses into steaks for toying with me!)
Underwater tunnels became a maze of doom due to the caprice of kelpies Adris had shown up the whole wild journey; and, at the, VERY LAST FORK, Adris’ promise to never fall became…
“Khh, Boss was supposed to be better than Elf!” The girl wiggles her body in a vain attempt to shake moisture out of her fur, only hitting Adris with her thick tail.
“Foolish disciple…” After slapping his mask to then smooth his soggy hair from it…
(Who said I failed?)
“That was my demonstration of why knowing how to swim is essential. If you could swim, you’d have no fear of falling off.” Adris recalls his position, despite the rage, and yanks the useless piece of complaining baggage off their board.
“Drowning Kol again!?”
“This next lesson will be for when you surely will.”
Across from him and pulling on Kol to force a response, Adris recalls how the sailors that he’d contracted to take Serras and he across the Sea of Stars had taught him how to swim; and then, how he had taught Serras from that.
Intending to submerge her, he yanks downward, and she bucks!
“Use your legs!”
When the ungainly kobold thrashes desperately with her upper body, he clamps upon her shoulders and locks her arms with his.
(You’re too damn strong!)
“Propel yourself with whipping, purposeful kicks, and breathe deeply. That’ll tread you above the waterline!”
“… Umu?” Kol kicks wildly while closing her eyes and scrunching her face.
“Breathe!”
“HAAAAFFFUUUU!” With fast, clumsy breaths to inflate her lungs, Kol resembles a puffer fish dropped on dry land. It’s almost adorable to Adris how this annoying braggart turns innocent when desperate and out of her element.
(So warm to the touch, too, Kol is at all times.)
Adris treads water and swims backwards with Kol obviously trying to jump into him to force him to carry her. When he stares too long at her ungainly swimming, the kobold opens her eyes and blanks at his gaze.
(But why are you always spiting me somehow!?)
That her expression isn’t purely reverent toward his instruction hardens his enthusiasm and drags on his feet. With suddenly reddening cheeks and goosebumps on her exposed arms begging him to lick to warm them up, Kol grins wolfishly from an unknown anticipation that seems as goading as her useless boasts from earlier.
When she drove the kelpies further into rage, they’d worked harder to punish Adris for it, a fact which brings his hand to Kol’s pretty white hair, then pushing her mouth below the surface so that she begins spitting out bubbles with an expression of dislike…!
“You’re teaching Kol to swim!? Neesiette, we can help!”
Still slithering on top of the water where mere mortals must submerge within its chillness, Avenalliah’s exuberance is a ray of shock even when constrained by her dull, bone-dry swimsuit.
“Be not absurd for a single time interval, if at all biologically possible for one!”
The doll, in comparison, scowls before continuing her blistering reproach more calmly.
“… Futile, such a proposition be.”
“She can learn!”
“Uncomprehending, you be! Upon back of turtle once more, relinquish this lady.”
“Do you not know how to, Neeseitte?”
“Knowledge contained be impeccable. Absolute.” Neesiette displays no facial change except for her lines of ire to deepen. “Activity itself given relevant specifics, useless be the consideration of participation.”
“Don’t be that way!” Ave sighs, then holds Neesiette out from herself.
“In-Intentions… of one…?”
(H-Hey?)
“If you know how to do it, then there’s no way you’d fail~!”
From the elf that walks on water, a new student splashes into the lake with a single ploop and spray. Ave claps her hands once and then waits for Neesiette to break back above the surface. “You’re the one always telling me that ‘nobody should run from necessary life experiences’.” A little smug, but sounding mostly jealous, Ave mutters this then places her hand to her cheek.
After a few seconds, her grin droops. “But… why aren’t you showing me up like always, Neesiette?”
With her arms outstretched toward them and ever-fewer bubbles escaping from her descent, Neesiette vera Luna, like the most graceful boulder ever witnessed, stares up with her flawless face frozen in a [ᓀ_ᓂ] of disgusted resignation.
“Wait, the materials she’s made from?
Also, she doesn’t breathe, and… what about her blood did she say…?
Is it not… physically possible for…!?”
After this timid question that ends shrilly, and before Adris can even scream an insult in his mind, Avenalliah springs up into the sky and then dives straight down!
“Far out there, prancing between shadows, are mysteries no other has seen! Priestess, they await you!”
“The entirety of Ysanne beyond the village awaits pioneering!?”
When she screams this question, Ave releases her cylindrical pull handle with a squeeze of the tube. The plunger that taut vines connect to the back of slams into the end of the wooden tube.
Like a crossbow, this hand-held toy launches its odd missile: a ball of perfectly circular red water!
It ricochets off one, then two equally-colored floating targets before flying out of the dense pack that scatters from the shot. What’s struck are the innumerable fairies that have come to seemingly drink upon the lake. All arriving together suddenly a Short before now as if by group agreement, those hit flutter off lazily afterwards, leaving the chosen pack of targets here that hover feet overhead and accompany the lake’s swimmers lessened once more.
“Two!”
As if by pure chance, the ball on its descent back bops a single fairy off on its own; it glows more brightly red as it, too, wanders off.
“Three… how fortunate!? 9 points!”
“Indeed.”
The swimming, shining snake whose swimsuit slices the water chooses a new spot, leaving the next contestant lining up her own.
“But, kin being filled with wonder, curious always, how could such mysteries endure until now? To live within Ysanne’s majesty, but never stray from home…?”
“Relevant before all other inquiries, that question be.”
Once sinking like a stone, the second archer exerts great effort in her flopping swim to the outside of the pack above her. Eying the chaotic procession of fairies, rather than haphazardly take a shot, this precise princess waits even as Ave reaches another floating water ball.
A contest for passing the time sees fairies dance above, while below balls of water spin up from the lake to hover. Spread out, whoever reaches them first pokes the end of their crossbow contraption into it, then takes aim…!
“Three again!?”
“How fortunate.”
More fairies exit!
(Luck is the strongest skill, after all.)
“Every facet of Ysanne cries for YOUR notice, oh Priestess! None compared to you would be as exuberant, exhilarated, elated…!”
Upon the turtle’s shore, unwilling to do more than dip her feet, the game master continues to twist and point her fingers. As she twists, she tinkles gaily; for, silver bells hang tied onto the ends of the flaxen twintails she has tied up and from the three banners which cover only her front side.
Purple-and-silver, with patterns of fruits on the vine promising sweetness to whoever plucks them, swimsuit designs of the world gain a drunken new addition with this elf’s own copy of Adris’ hopes. He leans into watching this magic which seduces both fairies and orbs of water work, for a bare, milky ass has just the slightest jiggle with the elf’s conjuring movements.
“Hues mix in the waters, bathing the branches of Ysanne in rainbow, to create unusual mystery outside their light! Deep within the branches, the winds of Ysanne whistle. The spirits which call you await! Merrygusts, dustdevils, and more to be found there, maybe even… sylphs?” A berrybread-growing matron defies her sultry voice to take on a child’s enthusiasm even when her lacking attire begs her to be “taken” as an adult. “Deeper still, remnants of the songful past of kin lie cradled by elder branches!”
Rather than by string to hang, the oval, shining banners that make up her skimpy swimsuit attach seamlessly like glue at the gentle curves of her upper bosom and at her mons. Each hangs one-and-a-half feet down, swaying with the breezes, but never moving enough to show Adris too much. Only to gently ring the bells at the ends.
“Will you go out, make them and you the same by experience~!?”
Ready to be peeled off, or to be lifted by movement or gust to reward whoever can look beneath where nothing else covers. Bared almost completely to all, yet without a shred of embarrassment, such daring is infectious!
(This one understands swimsuits! What a man wants…)
“Yes! Our mighty past calls! But, for now it’s ‘life’ that should be found, not just kelpies, out there. What of Ysanne’s small beings, those who should prowl the woods, and would greet us as friends if called to!?”
“Um? There are… small ones surrounding us. Sometimes, they… come up to the village…”
“[Greenhate] belongs only to those children, while Gilad offers its white radiance of our origination, the First [Truth], to inspire any who would offer Pellaeon another reason to dance! Flying squirrel, singing skyhook, jumping jackalope, black hawk, or reed king!? Which kinds are out there, here?”
“Many kinds! … Surely.” Hessalian continues with greater difficulty to keep her enthusiasm; but, when Ave and Neesiette bag more fairies, she boasts louder. “To lose one’s path, but ever be found excited where you’re going! New only ahead, unknown wilds full of promise! Legends speak of treasures of kin and fey, but never specifically have I heard. It’s too much to only contemplate a legend when one can prove it! Can you not feel how you gravitate toward the possibilities, ready to depart!?”
“YES! I do!” Ave cries with joy after her next shot, then swims swiftly toward the game master. “SO, you’ll be going with me, beyond the village!? To join in finding it, since you feel called too!?”
A happy face droops, then tightens, as the enticing elf looks away. Ave, too, loses her own brightness, staring hard.
“Indeed, extremely appealing one’s offer be.” Because she can, Neesiette adds to Ave’s trap. “Unknown interloper that menaced, ‘beyond the village’ also its probable territory…” Neesiette stops observing the chaotic fairy swarm to stare down the elf, too.
“… intending, one does, to protect and guarantee by companionship in discovery the essential safety of one’s ‘beloved’ Priestess?” When the berrybread matron stays deathly silent, Neesiette’s tone grows more mocking.
“Surely, always aiding kin, to render help in answering the many questions you raise wou—?
Ah?”
A crossbow lifts for the first time in minutes!
Because the fairies escape if stared at by too brightly shining violet eyes, Neesiette has stalked them with regular sight. As they float around like fall leaves, constantly diluting the swarm’s order, she’s ever hunting them…
“Alignment, total: 8 predicted.”
A Lunamaton mechanically squeezes her tube, releasing her plunger and launching a bolt of order at the chaos!
Pop, pop, POP, POP!
One fairy after another briefly distorts with impact. In a wild geometrical shape that is drawn by a waterball’s flight, when the final one glows brighter after recovering, eight fairies in total float away from the lake.
“Prediction, unfalsifiable.” The moon lady’s smile widens, only a hint of smugness to it.
“Amazing shot!”
“Relinquish this lady!?”
Ave zips in and hugs Neesiette in joy, waving her crossbow with a ball of water still primed.
“Eight total is…!? The score is the total multiplied by itself for each fairy ‘bopped’, so that’s…!?”
“64 points, obviously! Inhibiting further scoring this does!”
“What!? I’m not trying to do that, just…?”
A fresh gale rushes through; light as can be, but sure of self when the two struggle a bit too hard.
Ave flinches when a meaty “thunk” sounds off!
“Ah?”
Ave’s crossbow waving wildly looses its missile straight up, whereupon it “miraculously” hits a fairy… then bounces around with the grace of a Xin’reh’s guided flying aura weapon.
Nine fairies float away indignantly after.
(My lucky charm.)
“… Eh… ahahaha…? That’s…?”
“81 points. How ‘random’.”
“Nyeh!?”
The doll splashes back in when pushing away from Ave. An invention of elves circles her midsection, and also her upper arms and thighs, to thrust her back above the surface so that she can brush back her soggy amber hair.
“The fairies deplete. Involve oneself with commitment to game’s continuation, Avenalliah, lest this lady grow bored and end it prematurely in her victory.” Rather than appearing angry, the Lunamata shoos her opponent with only mild contempt of her waving hand.
“Facing me head on, that’s wonderful!” After saying that and earning a grimace from Neesiette, Ave touches the doll’s arm. “But, you know, how are those holdi—?”
“Solution recommended by you, confidence in it asserted once, collapse it not and be silent!” Hydrophobic plant fibers from the very bush-chair that Adris once sat upon leave the imperious lady bobbing comically as she struggles to splash to another position in the lake to fire from.
(Ave wanted you to play with her quite a lot.)
And the doll chose to wear the garish flotation aids, despite the public indignity.
“Wrapped fibers apportioned, affixed according to this lady’s calculations of relevant densities and hydrodynamics…!?” Neesiette clicks her tongue when Ave smiles at half-receiving a proper explanation, then twists her head arrogantly!
“Summarizing: perfect, they be. Contest, continuing, if fearing not one’s impending defeat.”
It’s only at times like these that Adris falls a bit more for her when she’s willing to play the proper role of a friend, rather than lord over them as a superior being from the stars.
“Yes! Hesalian, more ‘bullets’!”
“Huhu…! Beautiful lakes can’t be enough to sate… your high expectations, Priestess! Think of the games you could learn from those beyond here. Let your spirit soar with this vision: that you are standing amidst it all, the thrill boiling into steam, before all others even have a chance to…!”
“Bullets, please?”
“Ha!? Yes…”
The berrybread farmer with a strange name resumes her stranger dipping dance at the shoreline, distantly scooping up with one of her miming hands the waterballs that then hover at random spots of the cordoned ‘play area’ of the lake. Fairies seem lured to group up above them by her other hand that twirls her index finger. Scents of juicy promise wafting out from its tip invigorate the hues of fairies bathed in them.
“The energy of the song to be sung about an ‘emerald emissary who seeks the wind’, can’t you feel it growing~?”
Ave shares a look with Neesiette, who shoots a firm grimace compelling Ave to stay on track.
“Yes, I do, Hesalian… but, I can’t sing that song until after I learn why the deep lakes of our home feed from a blackness that shouldn’t belong to a world tree of our kin. Won’t you help me find that answer? After all, I saw… quite a lot beneath the surface which you said you’ve gazed often at. But, curiously, you’ve never swam in…?”
That question should be important…
Especially in how the strangely mature plant baker twists in dismay out of her swooping water conjuring, tiptoeing away from the question that makes her drop some of the balls she levitates; but…?
“… That’s why! Making bad armor, useless clothes!” Another munch and swallow, then more arrogance. “Put Kol’s Boss in something bad!”
A furry-tipped tail slaps back across a boy’s lap, then curls around his waist. Propped away from him and guarding her pile of disappearing forest treats, a ferociously cute kobold refuses to part his side.
“Hearing this!? Many crimes done to all of us! Huh!? NEEDLE ELF!?” Kol rubs her red nose, desperately trying to stop from sniffling.
“Hearing, but not listening.”
Fur that hackles up so often does so again when Kol settles her paws on the boy’s head and thigh to howl across him. “WHAT IS DIFFERENCE!?”
“Night and day.”
Growling sends the mightily cowardly Mython to shift behind Adris again. With her back now nudging his, sending terrifying sparks up his spine, the comical bickering that Adris has set up plays toward his own goal.
“If everything made is SOOO great, then why, WHY, Needle Elf not wearing better ‘pretty’!?”
(Yes, Mython, why not become the best or better you?)
It’s not like she doesn’t have the talent for it, despite eternal flatness. Mython’s soft, but dark, olive green two-piece offers no feminine qualities but a tightness at the top of each section, with frills and a pleated skirt hanging loosely at the bottom. Even that it’s simply woven rather than intricately patterned is off for Mython’s skills. Her toned form made for ranging the dark woods needs something much more complex to showcase that duality of feminine and strength.
“I am not a part of the song.”
Mython stays in his shadow, casting sidelong glances at him and rubbing her hand over his exposed stomach to pluck at where the end of his swimsuit overlaps his skin.
“Stop touching Boss, weirdo!”
Claws swipe again, but are ever too slow to catch that wandering hand of Mython’s.
“… Become change at last, I have, but not what is adored by it.” Coquettishly pulling up her legs to hold them, Mython wilts like a beautiful summer flower.
(I could disprove that with the right outfit for you; but, it’s not important right now.)
“My False God has become beauty.” Mython addresses Kol while climbing Adris’ head to peer over.
“Not YOURS! KOL’S!”
“Witness his true self, accept that you also could become if you simply let go.”
(Why is this the way you want me to look…?)
It’s a chilling thought, until it’s interrupted.
“KOL REFUSES!” Finishing off all of the food that both she and the berrybread grower brought for their lake picnic, then having the audacity to rub her stomach and growl with disappointment as if she’s still hungry, Kol slides onto Adris’ lap to plant her butt down.
“Only good part, THIS!”
Adris jolts when Kol rocks over his lap, grinding down against the very form-fitting thong that almost feels like it’s not there!
She gets so into it that she then promptly sneezes, sniffling after and groaning.
(Control yourself, you idiot!)
The plan is progressing!
Kol’s swimsuit already invites him to yank upon it. The blackness inherent to it, invested last night and keeping Adris sleepless with hope about it, is so terribly potent.
(Why is everything so hot…?)
Only hers gathers the whispers of promise so far. They speak in his mind of conditions that must be met.
Their mania harries his own, growing together until half-considered actions he commits to, making sense only partly, add up to the approaching whole of the assembling pattern.
Mython’s part in shaping Kol is essential because…
(It’s not… time for my reveal of you! HOW I use the swimsuit will become clear, but the signs aren’t manifesting sufficiently. Mython is the only outsider who has caused Kol to have strong feelings, so Mython must serve.)
Every time that Adris has invoked darkness before now, the “actors” involved settled into their roles as if by destiny.
“Elf’s swimsuits, ALL BAD!”
Now is no different.
The kobold lifts where the swimsuit straps run over her stomach, then releases with a twanging sound. Her tail whips around to hit Adris’ cheeks, prompting him to hiss and Kol to purr.
“Boss, doesn’t need weakness~.” Then, for no reason, the kobold bares her teeth. “If fight, need armor! If mate, wear nothing! Anything else… why would Boss care!?”
(You understand practically nothing about how sexy you are right now.)
Adris is oppressed by red and pink filling his sight, and the colors aren’t just Kol’s eyes and the lake’s light.
But, it’s not time, even with his target flashing her tight, strong curves with every disrespectful gripe. It won’t be impactful, hilarious, and truly cutting until Adris has…!
“Your master is not a throne.”
Keeping his cock low is hard, since his anger when grabbing Kol’s shoulder to push her off is heated.
That she resists, even scoffs with a dumbfoundedly opened mouth, adds to that.
“The whole of this very moment, it’s rising as a storm within him to mirror.” Mython creeps out to sit beside Adris once more, a cryptic statement said with solemnity before hugging Adris’ arm.
“Means what?” Though Kol can comprehend the words, when taking up Adris’ other arm she squeezes harder.
“You don’t feel it? The cravings of yours and his are to become one.”
(Don’t give it away! And… craving is a bit misleading.)
Adris feels a tinge of annoyance with how this isn’t matching his expectations…!
“Full lie!”
Then, tries to calm down, because Kol foils herself. “When Boss wants Kol, will attack like before, not spout weird promises! When Kol wants Boss…”
Thickly scented as always even after soaking in the lake and toweling off with fibrous plants ripped from the turtle’s shell, Kol’s attempt to be sultry by rubbing the side of her boob up and down Adris’ arm only half works.
It half fails because her expression is domineering, and her glance is too easily possessive of him.
“Boss, hit this Bad Elf with cross.”
(That you fight over me means I never, ever would! Is this jealousy!? Have you discovered that!?)
Who would ever get rid of a useful foil for training Kol’s mind and body?
Feeling jealous for the first time, how could Adris not enjoy this sickly sweet emotion to the fullest?
The plan of pitting Kol against another in order to rile her up…
“In time, you’ll comprehend the magic that reshapes all you experience. Philistine.” Mython again speaks oppressively.
“Could just not wear it, that’d be better! What did you say at end…?”
“Barer is more beautiful, is it? Fine, then rip off your fur, you’ll be twice as naked.” Mython chuckles at this suggestion, earning Kol’s cracking hands flexing.
“Twice as ‘better’. I’ll make a coat from your fur for when you get chilly.”
“Kol will make pain from you!”
“A hot fart, not even worth my own breath in response.” Mython sounds so smug that Adris is forced to grin.
“Orcbrain (RETARD).”
Just as childish as Kol, an elf that’s always seemed standoffish now openly curves her lip with superiority when muttering this.
“Scratchy leaves from Needle Elf, ‘bitch’, just like Echo always used to under breath!?”
Spectral heat whips up Kol’s arms, causing Adris to feel tremors flowing into his bones from what throws herself at him!
“Just like ‘fixed’ her…”
Because Mython’s head plants into his back after sending Kol into a frenzy, Adris suddenly feels the urge to prepare an escape plan.
(What a coward you are at MY expense!?)
One of the horrifically scented exploding balls rolls into his hand from his open pack…
(Oh!? I forgot to take the cure today.)
“Disciple, you’re boring me.” Forced to become her target now, Adris sighs.
“How!?”
A caustic retort levels Kol’s riled up preparatory charge. Falling to her knees, the kobold meanly grimaces at him while whipping her tail around.
“HACKA!?” At least until she sneezes so hard that she jumps, giving him an opportunity.
(Now.)
Rather than answer, he pulls the coated, impermeable cloth seal from the vial containing both a stimulant and inoculation against stinging pain. Both made by Lycia, the flavor is an explosion of dung-coated gravel sliding down his throat as he chokes.
“Umu? Boss, drinking the ‘I’m tired’ potion?” Kol sniffs his lips when leaning in, an astounding skill of hers to remember every smell! “Something else, too…?”
“This vessel was given no sleep. My ambitions were many last night.”
“Ah? Kol, too…” Just like him, Kol reaches to her pack that mimics his and draws out a wooden tubule with a glass stopper. Pulling free the stopper, she gingerly pours some of the yellowish-orange contents into the stopper, then lifts her tongue to drop that small amount under it.
(Who… what is that?)
“Where did you get that medicine from, Kol?”
“Nnn? This, magical potion that makes Kol stop dying in nose and throat~! Kakakaka!”
Her constantly nasal voice does clear when the kobold gargles, then spits out a lot of phlegm.
(Is it to fix sneezing from the environment?)
“Great stuff! Danger Elf gave to Kol. Take a little every day, like Minion does, too! Boss, all ‘alive’ in party using medicine, this makes us all alike, then…?”
Adris’ whole body vibrates again, this time because his sight turns redder!
(THAT FUCKING…! HE gave it to you!?)
“Do you not remember your rules of discipleship!?”
“Nah…!” Kol falls back onto her butt from the intensity of Adris’ yell, but then returns to her knees and pinches her mouth in anger.
“Kol, DID ask! All questions. Danger Elf gave it because ‘sneezing too much inside, bothering him’, no other reason! Asked Kol’s Elf to check, and said it was fine!” Crossing her arms and growling after, Kol’s pride is mighty.
“To be YOUR disciple, Kol didn’t want to walk around not being able to breathe because of stupid elf plants everywhere! Bad fighting level.”
(… Why am I feeling so angry about this? Initiative is proper, even respectable.)
When calming, a still-remaining droplet from his hair lands on his cheek…
(But I’m not respectable enough to ask!?)
After the rage roars, he clenches his jaw at thinking that the first choice for help was before her right now! Since that isn’t allowable with his position, Adris nods after closing his eyes.
“So long as you obeyed your rules, then you’ve proved your worth.” He lets this moment linger, giving the fullest impression of having heard her troubles.
“Shouldn’t Boss just…!? Tch!” Kol rolls her tongue over a sharp canine, her cheeks even redder now. Difficult breathing seems gone, to be replaced by a rapid kind as the kobold edges closer.
“… Nnn, Kol, did right thing. Shouldn’t Boss, praise Kol more~?”
A total shift in mood comes with a smile. The tomboy leans on his lap and stares up into his eyes before Adris feels the danger of being trapped in her needy aura!
(But the swimsuit aches for total resistance, not proactive lust!)
“Boss… elf games aren’t bad, but ours are better.” Kol twitches her ears, letting the stink of her horniness escalate the reddish pink overtaking his sight.
“Let’s ‘wrestle’ (MATE)~.”
(Yes!)
One hand jumps up to grab her collar and pull her in, just as the other rips it back.
Kol breaks from her huffing fit to widen her eyes at this.
(… NO! I… knew she’d come seeking to “claim” me, that’s perfectly expected…)
What isn’t is how needy he feels in turn, despite committing to the ultimate carnal goal of making her his as he wants.
He’s steeled his mind with how best to accomplish this refusal without involving the other girls by mistake.
(Serras taught me this!)
“That isn’t appealing right now.” Simply announced, Adris reclines further as if to sleep. Being turned down in this way, elaboration possibly preventing further pain, is a recurring memory that proves the ease with which relationships can be harmed.
(And motivate into rage!)
“… Nah…? Guh-HUUUH!?
… Eh???” Three distinct sounds all grow more shocked, and run the gamut of low to high and back in a moment.
“Boss… didn’t hear Kol correct, or too subtle? Umu.” Kol blinks, coughs with confusion, then brings her paws to her breasts to squeeze them before Adris.
“Both of us, together, strongest ever, go somewhere…” Kol’s pink tongue wags out as if to slurp his cheek. “Go at each other until good screaming is all we do~.”
Adris eye twitches with the pulse of pink that compels him to happily bark agreement…!
(Too… forward.)
Though it’s just like her, he finds it lacking, and that constant letdown helps him sigh out his urge to jump on her.
“I came to this lake solely for my own pleasure.”
“HOW IS BEING WITH KOL NOT ‘PLEASURE’!?”
Veins on her forehead throb when Kol screams in outrage.
“KOL’S PLEASURE, IS BOSS’!”
The water games being played abruptly pause when everyone turns to stare.
“Anytime, being with Kol, IS your best!”
(I don’t know if she’s just selfish, crazy, or truly thinks that highly of herself?)
“It has been… inspiring, and could be anew. But, I have no motivation from within right now, and if it doesn’t come from there…?” Steepling his hands with his elbows on his knees, Adris taps the fingertips.
“Why, not motivated!?” Urgency that mirrors what she showed when Rantil popped out for the first time and “stole” her firstmost spot from her returns, sending Kol into swinging slaps of the air. “What… was Boss made sick, to not want ‘mating’!? That’s why medicine drank? No…?” Her tail also whips around, almost like she’s about to go berserk!
“ELFS, DONE SOMETHING!? TURNED BOSS AGAINST KOL!?”
“Disciple, you rarely listen properly… ah?” Adris crosses his legs to hide his growing bulge at her wildness, then pretends to have an idea.
“This might be instructive for you to attempt instead. To comprehend by doing.”
He opens his naked palms flat out, then pats his chest to invite her approach.
“Seduce me.”
The order strikes like a falling mountain!
“‘Put… love inside’… huh!?”
(Is that how you hear it?)
Once he makes the demand, those staring at him begin their encirclement.
Astonished, inquisitive, and totally confused, everyone has a different extreme to add to Kol’s drooping face of angry contempt.
(Mython!)
Adris is tugged at by the seamstress who notices also.
What they created has stolen a luster to its purple and pink that overwhelms every other color. Kol is shining in the dimness of the eternal twilight. Even the angry flickers of phantasmal flames that announce the kobold’s rage peaking only add to the effect of Kol’s charming skin begging like chocolate to be bitten upon before it melts.
Its “rebirth” offers the most vulnerable spots for free, like her ears, back of her thighs, navel, and armpits. Requiring only the mildest of efforts to flick his tongue across the still-covered, dirty hidden treasures that will elicit cries of his name once he cleans them sufficiently, there’s much to unbind.
Adris’ lifted hands feel gravitation from them, urging him to rip upon a loop…
“Why must you have him for the joining of branches? There are others willing to… ‘enjoy’ that without bothering one who doesn’t overfill with need for it.” Mython’s insulting question, however, sends the wind’s constant direction wildly changing.
(What? No… there aren’t…?)
Webbed and clawed, serving so strangely to keep these horses swift, the plan spirals out of control with the lake’s original inhabitants returning on such feet.
Three of them, the very ones that had just drowned Adris a Short ago, as the leader of this herd’s runts, this one dips his head toward Ave to then gargle a question.
“NOW… THANK?”
“… I’m sorry, thanks for what?”