“Brought to one if this curious, items of interest may be.”
“Nothing out there entices me. Hmm, and now let’s check these!”
Energies expended, this small lady within her own chamber seats upon a man who shall be her servant. A pact made is now fulfilled after her own testing concludes.
So that another’s hand may spread her fingers for view, her white gloves join her dress. Turning the palm downward, a man’s touch slides over metacarpals to inspect finger joints one by one.
Every spot that his fingertips move over reports a need to lift into his force outside of just providing data for Falke!
(E r r o r: what be this feedback, never-accumulated sensory impressions reporting without designations, “softness” multiplies into more categories!?)
“As I divined, the slotted grooves hide self-moving joints. Your flesh is soft as a sheared lamb’s back, but inside…?” When his squeezes determine no special pulse or true musculature, only the steady flow of fluids, he laughs. “The scholars of Xin called this the ‘force of the moving river’! Your creator replaced muscle with… something moving bones by constricting? Perhaps the same way a waterwheel uses artificially narrowed rivers?”
“Energized fluidic animation via microtized motivators, layered over a pseudo-skeletal structure with aesthetic shaping. Changes in pressure, providing constriction and tension. Similar, but not.”
“How do you control so many water locks?”
“A decentralized perfusion system with discrete pressure controls, provided perpetual animus by transformed Lunarian radiation.”
“Of course, I knew that.” Again he laughs once, a sarcastic bent to it that raises an eyebrow in turn.
“… Truthful, one’s claim of comprehension?”
“Of course… not.” Arrogance soothes to a purely reverent tone. “If another of you existed on Xin, she’d already have claimed me and explained it. An emperor isn’t expected to unravel every miracle outside of his own realm.”
But still he tries, his worshipful touches testing until her fingertips, then letting that arm fall to move on.
“A… foreign heaven disapproves, but you don’t. Has any other glimpsed it?”
When the lady remains silent, allowing him to move down to her bosom, prodding at ribs and sliding along them to check sternum, he chuckles a third time.
“I see, only one is worthy, haha! But, I think Still would love to try and explain this home of yours.”
(Too late to alter or dispel the illusions cast by a witch, be it?)
Silence endures, for the lady only shakes her head in the negative one time at a private memory.
“Well, true, Traveler’s splendor would probably rankle her ego, wouldn’t it. She’s not as kind in truth as you are in spirit.”
Not quite comprehending, this answer he comes to suffices for now while also complimenting her. However, his incapability in flowing between connected thoughts without also implicating himself in thinking of other women, humming merrily after, is concerning.
(An incorrigible man who must please any woman he meets by existing. Candor, reverts not to suspicion or reservation, this alone bears improvement.)
Falke’s structure-stealing gloves pierce within her deepest design elements, sharing in the knowledge of their shape as their bearer exuberantly divines every particular of his latest “conquest”. Of little practical use outside of clarifying her faux skeletal-muscular components, the data recorded by them may yet aid in better animation for pseudoprósōpon avatars. Even if these glove tips roughly flick over her teats, a purely aesthetic component, they must record all to be true to her promise. A caveat this man well comprehends.
“One enjoys oneself very much.”
“Yes, very, very, very much. You’re sleek, but forgiving to touch. A vibrant shine to you, but not oily. Also at perfect temperature and kindness of heart, and very inviting to behold…”
But the lewdness of word and deed is absent now, despite her implicit accusation. Instead, he waxes on with fullest current thoughts gushing forth.
“AA-cup, but of a pleasing shape and firmness. Anything otherwise would be ugly, it really fits.”
“Be one deciphering Falke’s observational data?”
“No, I’m just a man before all else… hah…”
His quick grope loses fervor, only a confused sigh punctuating that the lady cannot explain.
As his hands dig deeply for her secrets, she rejects conversation in order to accomplish the same task with much greater efficiency and specificity. Gloves pass over her abdomen, touching upon a series of systems within which her diagnostics finish their fifteenth check of.
(C a l c u l a t e: length/thickness of intruding “vessel” overlaid upon region, directional force and resistance aiming at primary interpretation loop, report similarity and resulting process “reward”…)
His prodding at the spot causes the lady’s grasp upon his pants to tighten. So amused he was with the “bump” he made from her self that he pokes the same place!
The responsible candidate for the abusive experience of the past non-occurring Rounds has deflated, comfortably returning to a minuscule, sleeping worm in comparison to its former gross arrogance.
(… 99.9% likelihood! Energized fluidic channels became congested, leading to overflow into primary interpretation of Arts functionality. One prematurely activated this lady’s “positive reinforcement rationing” protocol!? And amplified it beyond original output!?
Q u e r y: INTENTIONAL, BE THIS ATTEMPT TO DAMAGE A LADY’S MENTALITY!?)
At no point was he permitted to conduct such a scurrilous thing, nor to examine her design and comprehend how to violate her systems so!
(Swift, punishment shall be; vengeance, sweetly deserved!)
This humming emperor’s hands creep lower, the sensation of exploration sending so much conflicting feedback. When he extends past her stomach to a small crevice that was horribly misused, he…!
(He will, again, seek to unsettle this la—!?)
“… I don’t think it’s necessary, right…?”
“Enter!”
The lady’s scream prompts her seat to flinch, then remain motionless.
(Or, diverting from harm previously attempted to inflict instead…!? Difficult, an emperor’s intentions be to determine, but a lady shies not from a challenge to design’s resiliency!)
When she realizes how loudly she screamed, the lady coughs in imitation of human behavior. Flicks her hair to show disdain for troubles.
“No harm be possible to inflict upon a lady made perfectly with a simple touch. Within there be animating motivators needing recording.”
“True… but, you seemed stressed by your own pleasure earlier…?”
“No sexual sensation a lady experiences, ever. All touches be safe.”
“… What…? Really?” For the first time since his dutiful work of examining her began, this man who is a boy’s voice shifts to uncertainty. “No but… you screamed out when I…?”
A whisper almost, the wetness that has dried was an experience even he remarked upon.
“Screamed? One misconstrues the events.”
(E v a l u a t e: truthful thoughts, naked reasoning/rationale, obtained through temptation…!?
Determination be necessary, for sure.)
She reserves herself for this, modifying her voice to intentionally produce more of this “tinkling” that he blurted out about liking!
“Capable of granting immense pleasure…”
And the boy’s wrist that she slides her just-examined hand over jumps when she touches, then allows her to grasp it.
“… these motivators be, as one discovered, my Adris. One’s own screams this lady claimed.”
“Hooh, that is… absolutely true.”
Again he’s thrown off, but his fascination grows.
“Never lying, a lady would, when compelled to share honestly.”
(“Screams” be an error in vocalization feature.)
“So, one’s duty be clear.”
“But…? What does he deserve…!?” Hunger and jealousy re-stoke with the lady’s merest provocation into an almost choked growl. “Everything he ruined was because he didn’t truly care. Not even after you changed how you behaved to try and please him.”
A test leaves her just as stunned when he overlooks his own misgivings about the source of her “pleasure” to only focus on personal worth.
“Why go that far? Do you change for me?”
“Where others find comfort, to aid at their level of understanding, a lady adapts. Yet, where it be not necessary… superior, that work advertises as.”
“That, I am.”
(C a l c u l a t e: a cutting quip not forthcoming, nor a rebuttal asserting an emperor’s intentional attack on this lady, instead moving on to other concerns, with 82.6% certainty it be that “non-awareness of the lady’s difficulties” be accurate, therefore he…?)
Is completely ignorant of the destructive effect that his phallus had when overfilling her.
Upon realizing this, her prickly defensiveness drains away and she settles once more against his body to experience its heat. When her tension vanishes, his own lingering doubts fade completely.
(So observant of this lady he be! A quirk of two designs, solely responsible. An overly exuberant convergence of velocities and dimensions. A lady would never hold ignorance equal to malice.)
And thus, he is easily led back to the correct path, while requiring no apology.
From her.
“How did you become involved with Falke? Pretending to be an earth-bound noble is beneath you.”
(Very true! Extremely so! That be why he detested it so much? Forgiving that slight be possible, then.)
“An unimportant topic… but, easily answered.”
A silver rod, pulled from dress sleeve pocket, is flicked into extension as a prop to tap onto her bare chest.
“Upon this lady a curse once laid undisturbed, woven to declare ‘who be responsible for stealing her if she be removed from the Pillars’ stores’, now stands active and recurring despite dispelling it numerous times… understandable, this be?”
“Yes, that’s quite like those Castillo psychopaths to be that petty. But?”
“Though not removable…”
Her rod then taps and draws a mystical pattern upon herself, a standard Diconian triggering-condition rearrangement.
“An untriggered pseudo-Art be quite amenable to activating, with alterations, if a name be provided. Thus, when encountered within the upper hallways of the Pillars’ section a messenger golem, found and easily subdued, witnessed its inscribed glyphs reworked…”
“You… you didn’t…”
“Activating its emergency sending pseudo-Art, rewritten to allow two-way communication, prompted the most ‘surprising’ encounter for its owner.”
(A dutiful man succumbs more easily than a roguish one.)
“Hahaha! He said his name and the property forced him to abscond with it outside of the mansion?”
“This lady’s… somewhat lacking initial introduction aside, quite astonished he proved when caught by his better manners. From there …”
A short summary of their contact schedule, interests, and the aid he provided in helping their party in the past and present leaves the boy rubbing his temples in frustration.
“So, he helped you reign in Kol’s armor when it went wild after she bought it?”
And it leaves her narration fading off toward the end, failing to see anything but those events in replay.
“To protect us, you played a role…”
Ultimately, he comprehends the lady’s apparent duplicity being a front. Though, the narration dies when she chances upon making this emperor’s own mistake, for the man stays deathly quiet when she speaks of Falke wistfully after explaining.
(This lady be no longer involved, this be both a mistake and…)
“… irrelevant, this story be. Continue to examine and record with one’s superior touches. One’s belief that one be lacking regarding sexual interactions remains somewhat misguided.”
“I didn’t accept any fault, now did I!?”
And so she throws him off, striking at a useful rough spot to this man’s emotions that distracts from her unfortunate slip into the past.
(A f f i r m a t i o n: this lady becomes an effective social maneuverer!)
“Be strong in… ‘your lady’s’ favor, and do not mope.”
“Who is moping? I’ve had spiders climb onto me, but none as hungry as you when mounting me!”
In response, the finger that froze before slipping over a wet passage intimately tests a nub nestled on the top. When she does not startle from this central pleasure spot being tweaked…
“… Che, you screamed for me before…”
“That be true, though the reason one ignored, and then this lady’s orientation changed dramatically.”
“How did I ignore you, you were bouncing on my lap the whole time demanding that I ‘experience bliss’. Crying out for your emperor.”
“Incorrect, for the coupling turned from a vigorous, yet endearing, romp to an abusive pummeling until climax! For mistreating this lady, apologize!”
“I already did.”
“Fifteen times out of a necessary billion be recorded.”
“This vessel will die, first…! I feel no shame for indulging. It’s what you did to me that drove me crazy…!”
(Irrepressible arrogance of a rake, revealed once more; but, also… it be plausible.)
That he cannot inflict mind-numbing pleasure in retaliation apparently ruins his “fun”, for he dutifully slips into the imitated passage to inspect the walls and depths that he blamed for his temporary madness.
Without the lady’s control, her own motivators tighten to coax the finger, to resist its departure!
“I remember how this felt…!”
(A p p r e h e n s i o n: autonomous systems refuse direct control, still!?)
“How do your folds squish so tightly to my finger but act like they’re living brushes? An uncommon design you have.” A growing disbelief renews his hungry tone.
(This previously unused passage requires further empirical testing! This form’s erotic capabilities, potent when unleashed.)
But she also cannot avoid a chance to tempt him.
“Speak fondly, and one may…?”
“Only ‘may’? I doubt you’ve grown bored of me yet.”
The arrogance sufficient for his station blossoms, but he betrays his continued fascination with a woman just claimed.
(Perhaps… this lady shall never be boring for an emperor? Predicted that be, of course!)
And so he moves on after betraying his feelings, moving to a pert bottom and an unused back passage at the lady’s insistence to record them, despite his resistance, finishing with lifted legs as she reclines onto the throne’s armrest.
“Your abdomen has multiple internal joints like a spine? But the rest are exposed ball joints or what matches a human’s~!”
“One touches too aggressively upon this lady’s joints! Be one… sexually aroused again!?”
“No! Intellectually!”
“Both, be likely…”
“Haaah, I’d one day hoped to make something just like you, but it never worked out…! And so, the next best thing is…!”
Done with his inspection, he begins again!
“Yes, you are perfect! Let me feel it all over, this giddiness!”
“G-Gentler…! A mistake, less ge—ntle!”
“Which is it, my lady!? Hahaha!”
A boy’s hands do not rest until every spot upon her is touched twice more. This slow, then fast, then rushed, back to slow again, progression of deciphering every secret of the lady’s body…!?
“Lunamatons are so very exciting! The ultimate tool, all for me!?”
“D-Denied, fiercely, that assertion be…!”
(A p p r e h e n s i o n: overly satisfying… this be, yet also never to end, perhaps wished… but words become obsessive and gross!?)
By the end, his deeds and words have outweighed past offenses with worshipful dedication to her design.
(Q u e r y: grossly possessive words, why do these produce errors like…!?)
“It’s so different not being able to see or hear anything but you, Neesiette. You’re a whetstone to my intellect.”
“One’s… obsession be understandable.”
Once he is sated, the lady can rest once more.
“Your body has opened closed eyes to the possibilities of craft, I almost want to change my calling. We’re locked within a blank place, for the only warmth of soul is yours, and I feel… comforted, like no one else has managed.”
“Clarify further.”
(A f f i r m a t i o n: true, an emperor’s words, without malfeasance or malice in regards to this lady, both attraction and dedication to her.
But also… “comforted”, this be new?)
One hand runs up her thigh to her ankle, over the sock that is the sole clothing on her besides her circlet.
This touch promotes the re-accumulation of unknown moisture, ceasing only when the lady focuses upon it!
(Another vexing mystery!)
The other rubs her scalp, petting her as if she were a captive domesticated animal or a brainless child, a horrid gesture for a lady.
But…!
(E r r o r: all other processes degrade when the sensation of a scalp being rubbed filters through into core analysis!)
“Amber is a unique shade for a girl.”
She tries to slap his hand away, but cannot muster the animus for it. And so he just leisurely rubs, back and forth, fingers sliding along her scalp so nicely that this tingling earns the designation “distraction”.
(Cease… interferences!)
“More priceless than a palace, a princess of the moon’s hair is.” Left at his mercy as she seeks out the source of another error. “I knew from the Castillo that I’d be tempted to keep carrying you.”
(Moon be inaccurate.)
“Be that why one ceases not this unnecessary affectation?”
“Never think you understand all my reasons. However, one other is because…”
Their bodies return to a mutual state of relaxation. Almost dormant, all tension from this entity departs. He closes his eyes and, after inhaling the pure air of Traveler deeply, sighs until he slumps almost to sliding from the throne.
“I feel like… I need to reward the only woman that’s offered an emperor a chance to ‘be free’ with solace and remained true to word. You’ve let me play with you, showed me your ‘heaven’ and led me on this wild romance without a shred of an ulterior motive that I can prove.”
(Indeed, selfless this lady be! And compassionate! And also possessed of worthy humility! Despite no humanity, all this, a paragon of integrity that triumphs using humanity’s own norms!)
“Nobody’s ever satisfied me quite the same way you have.”
All thoughts of vengeance slip away at this resumption of surrender, an unneeded conceit thereafter for a complete victor.
“Expect no alteration to this essential truth.”
And into his chest she curls, as is the correct position for a lady when held by a paramour.
(By demonstration, three others must also comprehend why this lady assumes primacy, then seek to emulate these qualities! This remains an objective.)
All three express interest, vocally or silently.
If left alone, they will conflict. If unguided, they will destroy everything.
All for this intentionally blinded and deafened man that cannot handle a mere glimpse of Traveler’s glory.
(And for this oncoming scenario of a party’s ruin, made plain the dynamics and solution must be.)
“Betraying one’s intentions, one’s words do.”
“Betray?” A change in inflection settles fast. “I don’t do that.”
(Curious, but relevant.)
“Not as current, but one’s actions stoke the future crime.”
She shifts on his lap to face him, putting a finger to his lips to stop his next refusal to receive counsel.
“Be plain, dissemble not. Truth of feelings toward this lady proven rightly, toward others of obvious importance one also would claim the same?”
Recognition flashes, then he takes his time when her finger draws back. Though, without looking away from her or giving up any impression of misgivings.
“… I’m not being dishonest about my true feelings when I speak them.”
An arrogant smile attempts to deflect from a rhetorical slip that this lady begins to catch more often.
(“True” and “when I speak them”, wording, thus proving “silence” be dangerous.)
“Serving as an outlet for passionate needs having joined our group, expected of one should it arise this lady stated. Task fulfilled, with no complaints. With neither long-term investment nor jealousy, by Zennian standards this be the case for both slayers and normals.”
“I sense a ‘but’.”
Finally his discomfort registers, for his hand draws away from her head to be held to his cheek. Disinterest feigned, but also a moodiness growing.
(Worry not, for this lady be practical in all matters.)
And so she takes that hand to hold it in hers, though maintains the correct level of sternness.
“Rather than merely excelling at release, one made calculated and passionate advances all around. Such ardor be an unsettling, lasting, and maddening poison for non-humans.”
“I would nev—”
“Interrupt not. Never intentional, this lady comprehends one’s position. A selfish emperor, true, but also a gentleman at heart… somewhere; yet, one’s actions already the seeds of disaster have sown.”
(Nightly, when believing itself out of hearing, a dysfunctional reptile proclaims the “culmination of a journey of friends can only be… can only be…!”, marriage and a multitude of births obviously being the infatuated delusion!)
But no aid for this reptile shall be spoken, even if is soon to be forgotten.
A benevolent lady wishes that no such curse of such magnitude should linger even on an enemy.
“Having sown ‘romance’ without care, the most dangerous crop of all others save ‘spite’, to raise it to a fruitful harvest this inopportune gardener shall now commit to.”
“When was it decided…!?”
“Irrelevant, a man’s decision be! Romance, existing, recognized as the domain of a lady to decide if in effect, as one well knows, being a sort that prides himself in his successes with females.”
And so she observes more stringently.
To be called to responsibility ought to drive him away, for this test unsettles the stoutest gentleman when regarding solely one female, much less four.
“Or, perhaps one intends later to leave the crop to wither and die?”
(Commitment be a poison for me—)
“Ah, yeah, I’ve known for a while where all of this guile would land me in how I try to aid them. I’ve no intention of insincerity toward you four. Nor are my… feelings wrong.”
And so he waves her off, a sheepish, honest smile given with a flash of his teeth.
“Mine are real, so let them prove theirs, now…? Besides!”
He rips off Falke’s gloves, ready to throw them away before the lady intervenes to grab them.
“I’m rather enjoying this tightening web of needs closing in. Which fool would try to escape from lovely ladies who want him so desperately?”
(A p p r e h e n s i o n: CONFORM TO SOME CONSISTENT ARCHETYPE KNOWN TO THIS LADY!)
A “benevolent rake (who probably will grow tired of his pursuits)” distorts into a “‘problem child’ harem-seeking rakish madman (who enjoys carnage arising from their desires for him)”.
Equally so, he is self-aware of his inescapable fate. If left seeking to claim the hearts of three anti-social animals with such unfounded, arrogant optimism, then…!
“Rejected.”
A slap of her palm with her silver rod wakes him up!
(Zero comprehension registers within this boy’s brain!)
“Insufficient, one’s grasp of dangers. Toward proper conclusions with all romances, a lady be appointed now to instruct and demand appropriate advancement, especially finality.”
“You… what? You want to help me seduce them…?”
“Misunderstanding. Seduction, already achieved. Development toward mutual romantic happiness, this be the requirement!”
“I don’t think they want the same thing that you…”
An eye twitches once. A sign of disloyalty.
“Hgk!?”
Then widens when she stabs her rod tip at it, to hover centimeters away.
(Strangely fearful? This lady bears no true intent to harm.)
“As spoken in the Castillo, escape be impossible for a false god after raising so many hopes.”
“… W-When have I tried to flee?”
“Fulfill desires responsibly, as one promised within one’s ‘ceremony’. All of them.”
“I’ve already given everything that is deserved for now! What more must I do to earn your satisfaction…?”
But then he swallows, allowing his irritability to soothe.
“… No, I live to prove myself better than all others. How may an emperor do this, my lady?”
(A f f i r m a t i o n: excellent response, proved well already, save for one grandiose warning which charges with a raised sword.)
“Failed a swordswoman of black, clad in worn blue fiber coat and flinging scarlet dragon heads from blade, how did one?”
And finally, his eyes dart away.
Blood pressure and temperature both rise, a strain returning.
(Q u e r y: betrayer of her, be one, as predicted?)
For this cringing boy to flee from an entity equal to him, one that flowed into his wake as he gave up to her wash, denies an obviously refined relationship of great length.
When her defenseless back was turned…
(Striking at an ally of such exquisite similarity, be this historical precedent worthy of fear despite truthfulness of attractions…?)
It is an indelicate, unworthy topical assault by this lady. Yet, necessary by all calculations.
The horrendous betrayal of his cross striking a purported friend, even if a simulacrum, awoke in that fake true emotions when it pursued him!
(How did one survive a berserk unit? How… did one manifest control over it? Grant it a semblance of true “life” where an expert and this lady… have yet to do so?)
“I’d planned for later, but now is fine…”
Yet, whatever pain or fear or uncertainty he experiences fades away with a simple rolling of his shoulders. His averted eyes hold no clouding of intentions, for his body settles its fidgeting.
“Whatever Falke’s evil sludge drew from me, the true woman’s name on Xin was Serras.”
The lady’s feigned hostility departs with a flick of her rod to shorten it once more.
“Elucidate… please, my Adris.”
“Hah, that’s not an easy topic, nor one that is explainable for my greater existence on your descended terms…”
From beyond black clouds, eyes that pierce the eternal storm, one a lady witnesses in concept bursting into her consciousness, hold unknowable thoughts directed at suffering peoples who cling to a decomposing world of crumbling sky islands. A twirling “sun” that burns with the light of the atom is all that keeps them from the encroaching dark.
(Always these words of his carry truths…!)
As his viewpoint shifts in speech with added magical effect to words, so too does his posture sharpen. Eyes narrow in displeasure of even the lady seated upon his lap.
For… for…!
(Summon not one’s effect here! Unknown it be, repercussions…!)
Nearly about to with the way he momentarily turns hazy, concern registers on his face that pales his skin and freezes the haze. He drives it away with a flick of his hand, and then he pats her head.
Forsaking the fact that his voice remains intolerably cold and violent when the truth is spoken…!
“That ‘woman’ was a monster, a tool of my creation, that came to be more than I ever foresaw or needed. My own salvation, as much as I had planned to be hers, but later my greatest sorrow.
Both of us, forever more, but appearing as ‘less’ when active on Xin…!”
(… Be this the nature of a… Creator-like entity toward one’s creations when, theoretically speaking only, n-n-no longer… relevant they be…?)
For the first time, caused by the intrusion of another here…
The lady “feels” unwelcome in this still place that shines with the sleeping intellect of Luna’s vast city crust.
As if its radiant emissions spread unfathomable hatred for…!
“But also, she was my shadow, my nemesis, ‘what I wanted to aspire to be’, and… a moon, so bloody and beautiful, whose orbit…?”
A confession prompts him to slump, sliding from her head to her cheek to touch it. His voice lacks all imperiousness.
“I didn’t deserve to share her red path, making me like a less worthy Traveler.”
It’s grief that is his last emotion betrayed, a hint of expulsion.
Nothing more will be spoken of this woman, whether she is human or some vast extra-dimensional entity.
“Be it better to have been defeated by this creation of Luna, then, than continue unchanged after suffering just desserts?”
“Haha! How direct? Even I must be taught lessons by life. At the very least, if it wasn’t you four… if it wasn’t for you…?”
(Perhaps… but…?)
“So in the end one claims ‘gentlemanly defeat’ to extricate from scheming compulsion’s results… perhaps?”
It must be asked, as logic dictates, even if she denies the want to.
“Deception, multiple times used, would surrender be yet another?”
Though she’s without a hint of emotion, he accepts this accusation with a roguish grin in challenge.
“I’m not the kind of man to fear honorable death more than surrender.”
He leans toward her instead, inviting easy suspicion when he should seek to pacify her!
“But, if ‘perfection’ confronts me, what other path is there aside from facing the truth, do you think? No lie can survive meeting you.”
And so the accusation becomes a compliment, another affirmation of her victory.
(A p p r e h e n s i o n: vexingly evasive!
A f f i r m a t i o n: it be only natural to claim one’s fealty to this lady’s superior intellect as elucidated~!
B-But…! But, an error, there be…)
“A replicating error in knowledge it be, that Traveler be a moon. Desist in this.”
“Isn’t it?”
She sits back against his chest, letting him stroke her once more with impunity.
“Traveler be a vessel. Possessing only one moon, defined as a ‘naturally stable orbiting spheroid object of sufficient mass’, Zennia may claim.”
“Huh? But… Zennia has three of them, all vessels?” He counts them off with his fingers. “Traveler, Pothos, and…”
(Ah, a misunderstanding of terms, the—)
“Pilgrim, right, that was its name?” His last finger closes.
A distant star, not spherical but instead bristling with spires that burn with shining red doom pulsing through them, sails the rainbow bridge across the void to arrive at a blue and green planet.
The understanding he claims slips out to finish his thought, carried purely to the lady’s mind as recognition of his terrifying comprehension.
(…
… Ah, somewhat unlikely, 17.2% likelihood, but… that be expected of this entity. A further complication.)
“Indeed. From believing that all foreign vessels be ‘moons’ one’s misunderstanding arises. But, no, Pothos be the only moon of Zennia, a natural-made planetoid.”
“Other world? So, it’s like Zennia, not…?”
“No, a natural prison of perception the shaded moon be currently, but before it shined as a proper moon. Not like Traveler, nor like… the [replacing radiance that conquers the black sea] asleep below the Art-manifested crust that currently imprisons a world-ship others call Pilgrim.”
“It’s a shell… a red shell that encloses a whole world…? Then what is underneath?”
Out the Oracle chamber’s viewing barriers he looks after livening up his body a small amount, trying to find what cannot be seen from here.
A tap on his chest ends this attempt.
“Agent or participant in the [Grand Game], which one be you?”
He swings back with utter surprise, then recovers his imperceptible mood.
“Of… course you’d know what it is…”
Rather than deny it, he only sheds his guise.
“Hahahaha! Of course! Luna isn’t from Zennia, just like I am! So, it’s easy to grasp for the foreign-born, just like I predicted!”
The lady does not startle when his laughing begins, but does when he grabs her shoulders.
“That’s a good question! Between the [Lords of Light]…”
From the heavens, great ships shaped like clouds descend from the skies to part the stormy gray, carrying worshipers of radiance who hunger only for more! This truth unshared tears into the lady’s thoughts!
This dark addendum unnerves when heard for the first time by another than Luna, this name that he knows the truth of!
(An error was made in choosing this one!?)
“… and [Three Great Evils], where does one who despises both properly reside?”
(Within the correct place… this lady hopes.)
“How about Luna, since you’re involved too?”
Now it’s him that grows suspicious anew, though no change in tone or expression betrays this knowledge. Comprehending him so well grants understanding beyond mere deduction.
“One’s observed integrity places one around Luna as an enlightened, if uncertain, non-participating spectator. Of this lady, knowledge only of the Invaders and their technologies, if the need should ever arise to interface with them, be entrusted to this lady for safekeeping.”
His hands release her, to let one hold her hers and grasp it tightly.
“It’s a great relief that Luna is sane. Glad we’re on the same side.”
“One did not share this with us, however, as the basis for one’s dark ambitions.”
“Hoh, my inclusion was purely the decision of another, at first. It happened after my true advent here with the investiture.”
“Then… that question in the Castillo?”
(Awakening, the priestess and her reaction after, and his to her reaction, implying that…!)
Face to face he brings her, so that his finger up to his lips doesn’t appear obvious but more like stopping a kiss.
Dead eyes, only a hint of malevolence, perfectly convey his thoughts concerning this obvious target.
(“Do not recognize her, do not speak of her.” This be reasonable, if that one be…)
“An… agent of the Game, I imagine it to be, noticed and included me without even an explanation.” A snort of derision accompanies him leaning back and crossing his legs, forcing her to shift.
“I consider it a trifling thing.”
(Then, perhaps best to not involve oneself, ever…)
“Understandable. Zennia’s horrors be many, but its lack of explanation of its incongruities be the worst. Yet…!”
“As if I could tell four girls that they were thrown into a game of supernatural giants?” This secret hoarder rolls his eyes at her forthcoming complaint, but then grins. “I’m just glad I now have someone to plot with about ruining this contest…!”
(Absurdly grandiose one be, always!
A f f i r m a t i o n: a desirable trait!)
“Advice for this task be insufficient, for this lady knows only a few truths.”
“That’s highly inconvenient…”
And perhaps shocking, for the boy sweeps his arm to demonstrate where they are.
“Luna observes, but doesn’t record the rules? The battles? The players in full?”
“Rules? Of them, the only rule recorded be ‘obedience to the Game owner’s whims’. Of the rest, the battle records be written in the scars stretching across Zennia. The players, three Dark Lords and three Lords of Light in eternal opposition.
Of the Game’s owner, however…?”
“… Let’s not talk about that one.”
The boy steeples his hands, a pensiveness to his demeanor.
(Q u e r y: sudden disinterest, then refusal!?
Know this unknown entity?)
“Don’t look like that. I’m not a coward, merely cautious. Even speaking about that thing could draw its attention, seemingly no matter where you are.”
“… Y-Yet… it… that one, possibly…”
“What happened?”
A lady’s difficulty promotes interest, though it’s hard to judge why he tries to shield her into his arms again.
“Mentioned infrequently, the probable source of the origin of Art this particular entity may be, sought eagerly by a Creator. Yet, a Creator, in roundabout fashion, investigated while specifically refusing archiving of information relating to the entity, designated ‘Entity [H]’, and its primary recognized arbiters of influence, ‘[Q] and [T]’.”
“How did your Creator plan to study them without involving you?”
“That be a strange…? Extensive efforts made provided little concrete proof of its existence until one period in the Second Age. Information sought arrived through an intermediary that made contact with the Creator a short time before this lady found…”
When she must turn from him it proves embarrassing, for memories threaten to replay of that fateful moment.
“That intermediary, a Creator identified that he would at some point arrive upon Traveler, through unknown means, to relay this—
What troubles one?”
Yet, when she turns back, she finds the boy’s hands to his face, shielding his expression.
“When was the last time you actually spoke with your Creator?”
“… That be… during… the Second Age, Alder calendar year 2988, planting season 2, day 24.”
“And when was the meeting supposed to take place?”
“… Also during the Second Age, Alder calendar year 2988, planting season 2, day 20.”
A deep sigh issues forth, followed by him dragging on his cheeks and growling disgustedly.
“That intermediary was Entity H, Q, T, or another agent of theirs. I would imagine your Creator is quite busy cleaning up after whatever happened resulting from a sabotage.”
“… Indeed, that… be the long-held conclusion of this lady, too.”
(It must be… but why, Creator, remove one’s greatest source of support against the most improbable: an invader?
Q u e r y: be this lady… and all of one’s creations… inapplicable?)
On the throne he taps, carefully missing the important knobs but also alerting her to converse.
“How many years ago was the Second Age?”
“Absent connection to primary locus, Traveler, sufficiently long enough for synchronizing, a lady cannot provide accura—”
“Estimate?”
“Stellar drifts match not expected parameters… between roughly 1489 and 5000 years be the estimate.”
“That…!?”
His palm drives into his mouth, then he pulls it away with a smile replacing whatever expression she could not evaluate.
“That explains why you’re a lady of such maturity when all others are lacking!”
“Indeed, though this lady remains relatively unchanged for all that time, the Second Age ended not with the termination of connection to locus, but much later. Time spent until the Third Age be… a ‘slumber’ be an adequate term.”
“Can you tell me what you do know, then?”
“Indeed. Availing not, one shall discover, however…”
(It be worthwhile to gauge impression and reaction.)
Of the game, a number of rules govern when, where, and who is allowed to participate, and in which manner by “progression of the Age toward conclusion”. Most specifically, untraceable autonomous elements governed by magical powers operate on Zennia, constantly pushing certain ideas and concepts, driving emotions to new heights…
Of the entity, a strange man in ascetic flaxen robes, this one spoke fondly of knowing the “basis” for what a Creator termed [Art]. Of a hermetic origin, his claimed lineage and life history conformed with preliminary investigatory divinations. The continent of Atlasia that he lived within contained sufficient fellow humans to vouch for his veracity.
This shocking encounter occurred as a result of the Creator accessing a newly discovered, strange unified field of energy related to pseudo-Art that emanates from the region. Obscured intentionally by nearly infinite layers of illusionary magics, it bore relationship to all known pseudo-Arts.
An imprecise set of coordinates obtained, those grew more precise with each uncovering iteration and led to this man who lived on the fringes of the closing circle. He answered a dream meeting with wonderful data related to uncovering the origination of Art.
A strange mood had he upon first contact, suffering no ill effects of touching upon the vast mind of the Creator, only effervescence upon learning that some new god had arrived to Zennia and—
“Right. That’s definitely Entity H.”
“So certain, one presumes!? What evi—”
“Personal exposure. Don’t ever speak of him outside of here, not even by description.”
“Aware of the dangers this lady be. Not even to Still or Falke has this been confided.”
“Don’t, they won’t know what to do to hi—avoid gaining his attention. By the way, this Entity H is the same guy as the headless figure in the [Godless Chapel].”
“That be somewhat predicted by impression and relationship. Origin of [Alchemaster], [Bannerlord], and the [Counsel of Idea], three dark lords of the Tiberian Empire arose from its gifts. All Grand Distortions such as these throughout recorded history be found related in some way to it. Minor figures that attain self-evolving power capable of upturning the current world order.”
(Very similar to one, but thankfully proved dissimilar.)
“Never considering it possible, that one should prove related to such an entity, back then.”
“… And it’s probably responsible for… the strangest things of Zennia? Like [Modi]? The desperate need for sex that can kill you if you don’t?”
“A unifying origin, either the source of or knowledgeable of it, Luna’s calculations place this Entity H’s arrival at a point predating the First Age; yet, likely bearing mutual or sole responsibility for creating the [crèches] discovered by the Zennian races, that influence stands as.”
“… AAAAH!?”
A look of pure realization sweeps through her companion seat. This shock should amount to too much for a Zennian to recognize and process, only promoting stubborn denial, yet an objective foreigner can do much quickly with detachment.
“The engineers at Petripolis said that Dharmic Minos was in an earth strata set before the Tiberian Empire? He’s… that thing is just fabricating history!?”
(More secrets to be shared, this lady shall queue up for the future.)
“Or… did it actually exist and he preserved it to unleash later? He’s the one behind it all, all the crazy shit going on…!”
“Plausible, either be, though all investigation through the Creator’s authority uncovered no empirical evidence of falsification. But, also never discovered by the Creator be these ruins before being uncovered by Zennians, nearly impossible this should stand as given the survey methods utilized upon Traveler’s arrival.”
“That just makes him good at his con… or rather, hiding.”
Half-affirming, half-horrified, an emperor’s reaction proves confusing yet again when his body betrays no changes during his chatty mood. The lady can only shift, trying to place her hand upon his femoral artery for better results.
(What further secrets be unshared?)
“What… what happens when an Age passes, Neesiette?”
“Very little living survives of it, yet immense wonders profit by preservation of an almost supernatural bent. Those beings which do ‘survive’, of what be witnessed speaks never, for they refuse all inquiry unto even self-termination.”
“No wonder Lycia is so tight-lipped, she lived through the end of the world! That means the Alchemaster and the rest have survived at least two cataclysms.”
A world that once was whole, shattering into misted sections of firm earth to be hurtled up into an endless sky comes to mind.
“Of the dangers involved, fully comprehending now one’s place within a Grand Game orchestrated by this entity and how to end it?”
So caught up in his unshared revelations otherwise, the boy stops to tilt his head in disbelief of her question while pursing his lips.
A curiously new affectation! He sighs and shakes his head at her as if she had asked him to split the atom with his bare hands.
“I extend to reside within a vessel this small, yet still accomplish great things. Please also extend me a little credit. I know when to raise the stakes and when to reveal my hand, so let’s begin cutting out the players before flipping the board entirely…”
The concept of stacked tiles upon a table or floor being swung away by an angry arm crosses the lady’s thoughts.
“Never disagreeing with prudent objectives, this lady may state.”
“Good! Then, I’d like to hear more from the archives about Art and Luna’s observations! Especially, proving that the Granescians are pawns of the Lords of Light!”
Shadows draw in over his eyes when he bends, allowing only burning red to shine.
“Because those bastards aren’t fit to play at me—!”
“No, our time be concluded.”
(C a l c u l a t e: sufficient answers have been given, mentality deteriorates with further exposure.
C u l m i n a t e: changes shall be instituted within “the outside”.)
His evil evaporates, much the same as his certainty.
“Oh? But, the information you have!? I have so many questions!”
The lady tilts her head, for his manner is needier than usual. He also turns from her with clear disgust, seemingly “pouting” at the end forthcoming.
“You’re the only one I can trust about this, I need your assistance!”
(A f f i r m a t i o n: dependency upon this lady has achieved an unbreakable strength.
This be most fortuitous, this one’s desire to be near her!)
“All known within these records be carried with this lady. When appropriate, shared, as ever they have been, and ever shall be. All that needed proving and hearing here, completed in totality.”
“… Right, nobody else has managed the same way to stand by me as you do. Patiently. So, I’ll do the same.”
(Gratifying it be, to be appreciated according to effort! And now, a final, final test before our closure.)
Still bereft of clothing, a lady allows her incredibly sensual nature to draw him back to his obsession by sliding a hand to her thigh.
“Neesiette?”
She scoots closer as best she can, legs pulled up across his, and leans in closely. Allows him to follow her small body. As written incessantly within a hundred and more perfect manuscripts, a lady bats her eyes at the man who would be deserving of her.
The unspoken need demands…
“… Y-Yes?”
Though not embarrassed, a heart does nearly skip a beat or two when faced with her feminine charm.
But, he remains unmoving despite efficacy of assault.
Strangely, somewhat more paled in complexion.
(C a l c u l a t e: suspicion be the core of this man’s spirit, evermore.)
Only watchful and calculating, much the same as the lady, this dynamic must eventually succumb to spontaneous action at times for the future’s sake.
Lest he once more unleash a savage attack when fueled by the chance to act freely without being judged.
“Claiming what be lewd before the romantic ideal, only a complete cad would, Adris.
Amends, shall they be made?”
“… Ahhhhhhh. Of course.”
Enlightenment! A mixture of mirth and pain, his lips are ready when he joins hers.
It’s a gentle encounter compared to last time. Sharing wetness, then tempting pulls upon her top lip, they part after assuring that his smile will be…
“Such a sordid man I am, Neesiette, but my heart holds reverence. And yours is a true beauty in this despicable world.”
A genuine expression of gratitude and longing.
(“A kinship with one’s heart be what draws this lady to one”… would be spoken back, though this lady possesses no heart, thus it be illogical. And pointless to say here.)
It will likely fade after this non-moment. For whenever this man feels wronged or another is threatened, a sinister animus flows beneath his skin that defies whatever words come from his mouth.
It exists solely to invoke ruination for the sake of his ideal world, regardless of who shall be harmed by repercussions.
“All will be well, Adris. For this lady’s rescue, no matter how unneeded, a thanks be owed.”
For another’s sake, she saves from oblivion the sum total experiences of Falke’s gloves by recording their patterns. Then, tosses them back to the man she has chosen.
“Even if others understand nothing, this lady pledges to aid one to her utmost even with matters such as opposing the artificial machinations called ‘Fate’ that one detests, made as it be by the Starborn Lords.”
“They made ‘Fate’, too!? Fuck them, forget the evils, I’m crushing them first!”
Eventually he does slam her throne, hitting a knob that the lady calmly, lightning-fast, reaches over to twist back to neutral.
“So… so long as one be willing to metamorphose into a superior gentleman, this lady shall aid in accomplishing this feat, as well.”
“Hah! Please don’t expect something as momentous as I am to change in only a few short centuries! An emperor will never choose to become a weakling, even if conquered once.”
(A worthy diversion, then, for one bored with an eternity without purpose should Art be out of reach. A score of ?? points remains a… prohibitively difficult challenge, a gentleman as much a devil as a saint. With so many [major] errors committed the mentioning and amending of [minor/procedural/technical] errors must be avoided, lest motivation sour.)
Nodding once in approval of him, no matter how mediocre his score, she then closes her eyes and shuts off extra-sensory perceptions.
“Though this… dream amounts to naught for a false god, for this lady it provided belief in one’s worth. Think it not worthless, for it shall be cherished, alone, forever.”
“Worthless!? This meant…!”
The refraction values are allowed to dim. Without purposefully utilizing the Lunar radiation, the lady ceases to be an anchor for this memory.
“Huh!?”
And the violet bubble of stability created withdraws into her self as a crackling, whiny surge, turning an infinitely witnessed distance into mere meters within a non-existent instant.
“G o o d b y e.”
“Nee—!?”
He’s finally removed, vanishing into the stream of threaded energies so that she may join him.
Departing from eternity is so much harder when the lady suffers how it vanishes again, so she simply chooses not to believe she’s left until…
(What one entered with, or entrusts not with a lady-who-be-a-tool to carry back, must comparatively leave as one existed before, or be lost.)
…
…
The violet vessel above no longer seems completely full.
Still a perfect circle to Adris’ eyes, there is a minute change in its intensity that ends the upward trend of this season.
Before his kneeling self, arrayed in the splendor of a shining steel blue dress of utterly foreign make, a wondrous creation of a being called Luna bows her head. Fully clothed as they both are, her raiment shining with the glory of the stars places his meager style far below hers.
Amber-glowing, weightless hair then abandons its radiance to take on a subtler luster when it falls, followed by her dress shedding its heavenly glow in a way that matches the subduing of the whining screech surrounding them.
Eyes that reveal themselves when she finishes her bow, though, are still…
… quite…!
“Be not afraid.”
Both lifeless and full of burning intellect, a Lunamaton’s piercing gaze dwarfs a giant killer rabbit’s anyday.
“… I’m not.”
Nothing is more stately than her, frail ribbons and all other soft touches aside.
An absolute existence, inviolable and alien, a slender woman of emotional and mental supremacy like none other he’s encountered in his past presents.
As though some great task is coming, she “sighs”.
“Impossible to adequately explain how accomplished it be, so it behooves one to simply accept it as truth that one’s sincerity be proved in totality.”
“… Of course.”
All of the lasting branching lines of violet energies break from their bodies to vanish. The air that was frozen around them flows once more.
“Let us resume one’s instruction outside of the manse, Adris. Business here concluded, we should depart without tarrying. A world tree, awaiting us does.”
“… I agree.”
Nothing sounds better, though Adris can’t help but keep patting the floor. It’s so solid and distant from…
“Ill equipped this lady be to properly authenticate her own favor at the moment. Many would claim friendship and familiarity for gain, as one endeared to this lady be guilty of in part, yet this passes not through processes. So that… this may be clear…”
Standoffish in a way, seemingly flustered with the situation, the prickly Lunamaton crosses the distance to place both hands on Adris’ cheeks.
Like she’s contemplating a different action when her head looms closer, she instead pulls back.
“Inquire not about the provenance of new knowledge this lady claims by usage of an Art unknown to one. Even… even if others understand nothing, this lady pledges to aid one to her utmost even with matters such as opposing the artificial machinations called ‘Fate’ that one detests, made as it be by the Lords of Light. Against Dark Lords as well, as one may choose to move on to.”
“… Of course, I trust you implicitly, my lady.”
Mechanically, dropping her fluidity, Neesiette blinks her stunning violet eyes, still glowing with her outrageous otherworldly power flowing through her!
(Pleasedon’tdestroyme, I absolutely responded how she likes!)
Rule 1: Do not fail to support her sense of nobility, always reflect it in style and substance, and ESPECIALLY manners.
This is how you assure that she won’t crush you outright.
(I will be the best gentleman you’ve ever met! Just… don’t do it again…!)
“‘My lady’? Does one intend to… refer to this one so openly?”
“Of course? I’d never disappoint you after you went to so much effort to show your true refinement. It’s not like you to repeat yourself, either. I know your words are true the first time I hear them.”
“…
… R-R-R-Repeat…?”
Though he wants nothing more than to fall to the ground and start crying, to relieve the brain-stunting trauma of what was just witnessed but can never be explained by anyone, it’s not permitted for a false god to shatter before another.
Even if it’s for a seductress that rode his dick with hidden hands squeezing on her womanly passage to snare him, utterly plundering his seed until there was nothing to expend from his aching balls.
Her supposedly virginal body, drinking in and embodying every action he took until she could turn it back on him to melt his mind, had no maidenhead, but was passionless until it chose only his dick to come to life for.
In this he must trust, for she abandoned all artificiality to become his.
(… I want back in… my woman…!
… I want to explode into your womb a thousand ten-thousand times…!
… I want to end my life in your arms, my heart stopping from the pleasure you inflict on me…!)
But his course is chosen.
(My soul is in danger… Fatso warned me about older women! She’s already too much… Keep it… fucking together… Adris…!
As good… as it was, and how great she can become, you can’t… surrender to her for real…!
BUT!?)
She is a lady of peerless manners and rank and authority and sexual prowess. A distant, unconquerable violet “vessel”, stronger than any star that fell onto Xin, answered her unspoken call to send Adris to a place of repeating shapes that made his eyes swell to the point of nearly exploding.
(This workshop is coming to life, too…!)
Concepts that Adris cannot comprehend, so dissimilar from Techniques but filtering through the same place, stay lodged in his thoughts and try to pierce his Inner Expanse. The now silent spheroid room he arrives back to emits the same humming sound as Neesiette’s Oracle chamber without the machinery churning.
When he intentionally blinded himself to it for safety, he succumbed to the only thing he could witness. A sexuality tasted only once will, the next time she crawls into bed with him, ascend to the stars to mock his own talents.
(I… in comparison…!?)
Adris is merely a gentleman (in training) trickster emperor-wannabe, one who she has both high and low expectations for. Utterly robbing him of his own expectations, her bubbling, endearing fascination with romance evolved before his eyes into an existence that the slayers had called…
(She’s a moo—
NEVER CALL IT A MOON!)
This expressionless, statue-frozen, three-foot-tall empress fallen from the heavens is the most fearsome being he’s faced yet other than the Alchemaster herself.
Rule 2: Do not directly contradict anything that this inhuman archive states as fact.
So long as you support her beliefs, one can help reshape them if they’re… slightly deviant from the reality humans understand.
(An adviser, not a dictator, speaking suggestions through loving courtship! That’s me, her Chancellor!)
Also, never try to run.
She, specifically, will never allow Adris to leave, and she is no doubt watching for signs.
(Making them all mine… she demands…?)
Still’s threats are like a child’s petulant whining by comparison. He sort of wants to cuddle with the witch for sympathy, despite the odds of ending up equally hypnotized by another woman.
Hypnotizing and controlling is their specialty, such monsters!
(She’s a [Lunasuccubus], a stellar sex demon…! She’ll steal my sex! No, my seed…! My… libido, if she deigns to! Leave me trapped and only satisfied by her…
How did Still think we could ever oppose her straight out!? Neesiette’s been i-n-f-i-n-i-t-e-l-y patient with us all!)
It must be that Zennia favors short people. The Alchemaster was also tiny in comparison to others, so he can only visibly nod when that evil bitch’s image overlays onto his precious, terrifying Neesiette’s own before him to share commonalities.
(I need to tell Ave to stop taunting her! What if she’s sent… THERE…!?
Is Rantil also secretly like this behind the teasing!? I need… to be careful of “erotic children”…! Obviously size is an indication of prowess!?
No, but Still and Lycia are also really good?)
“… Repeat… signifies… that it be heard before? Then…”
Allowing herself to move in a human manner once more for Adris’ sake, despite her awesomeness, she closes her eyes and speaks softly. “… Some different discussion shared historically, understanding it as a repeated idea in error? Or, perhaps, the phenomenon known as ‘deja vu’?”
She unveils her shining soul again, violet that drains the mind…!
“A lady’s understanding be… ‘something like this’, then?”
Collected as always, something about the way she asks the question causes Adris’ stomach to shrivel into a ball.
(Pleasedon’tsendmeback.)
It is unseemly for an emperor to prostrate himself before a god, however.
Despite how swiftly Adris is ready to do so.
It also violates a “rule” of the Cross directly related to this Lunar fairy empress after Kol’s own not to bow.
(I can’t… not respond as I always have. Like… the Adris she knows… like… a real…)
Already, his teeth are chattering.
Because his smile is growing arrogant. Tempting and full of his own glory.
Just like he’s always portrayed before.
(FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF—!)
And more than that…
Deep within, even deeper than his captive loins that long to taste the forbidden pleasures of a deathly Lunamaton again…!
Rule 3: Sate AND oppose her ego, determining which is appropriate, to preserve everything.
This is the most important one…!
(SHE ONLY RELEASED ME BECAUSE SHE LOVES MY “ABSURDITY”!)
A strong heart and acidic tongue that must always propel him onto the highest of heights, to appear as godly as he portrays, causes what happens next.
“This gentleman is to be honest, but a lady will hide our tryst? Just… pretend it never happened!? Hah… how cruel you are!”
“C-C-C-Cruel…?”
His hand stretches to brush through her hair, then tilts her head to meet his!
“Ah?”
“Even if I have to advent here in totality to enforce it, to shatter this very world…!”
And so their lips touch again, tongues sampling by force!
(Ohyeahohyeahohyeah, she’s the one that’s got the tongue I want…! GO ALL OUT! HALF-MEASURES WILL GET MY DICK “SHINED” OFF!)
His lunges for hers, only to be answered after the briefest of hesitations by equal passion!
Their fun play reignites for a brief moment, though she appears no more emboldened externally when her tongue dances with zest.
“… gah, I’ll seek to make you mine from every sunrise to sunset.”
(Ahahahahaaha! GOOD! Yeah, I sound like a real asshole! Just the way it drove her nuts!? AHAHAHAHA!
Help me, Still.)
It has to be forbidden to do this, but the lady he forces himself onto paradoxically refrains from obliterating him with some unknown beam of destruction. Instead, she stares blankly after he withdraws, a response lapsing from her usually quick mind.
“Away from private eyes, a lady stole me instead? Will an emperor be abducted again by whim at some random future hour…? Such a fierce love is an onerous thing to bear silently, so I’ll make sure to at least whisper encouragements, my Neesiette.”
“… I-I-I n…?”
Her dainty hands lift to her cheeks, then touch her lips, all concentration focused on what they just did.
“… d e e d…?”
After her mechanical reply to this rape of her mouth…!
(Pleasedon’tsendmeba— OY!?)
Her head sags following along with her crashing energy.
And to the ground she plummets without a shred of life left.
“NEESIETTE!?”
Throwing himself onto her, he tears along her dress searching for an unknown entry point of blade or dart. Even though he knows she’s inhuman, what if…?
“What’s wrong!? Answer me!?”
Utterly impassive except to follow him with her vision, this tormentor finally manages to produce sound when he pulls her into his arms. Though so creepily that goosebumps rise, for her voice occurs without lips, jaws, or chest moving.
“…
…
… A boy/entity designated Adris…”
“Yes!? I’m here, Neesiette! What happened, did you use too much of your… uh… radiation!?”
(Did I do something wrong!? I don’t get how she works! Maybe, my presence over there… some chain reaction of conflicting worlds…?)
If it’s his fault, he won’t be able to live.
Not after harming her.
And certainly not after the unsurpassable called “Luna”, a creator whose existence warps humanity and can shatter minds by the merest exposure to its architectural concepts, finishes cleaning up its mess,
learns that Adris mistreated one of its creations, and then…
… then…!?
(BYTHEASCENDED, I have to save—!?)
“NEESIETTE!?”
“…
… Record of failures, category == [major], beginning with:
1) Failing to respond to greeting of pursued love interest within cordial timing. …”
“What?”
Only glaring at him with a smug disdain he’s never seen previously, even when she was seeing through all his fibs with her supernatural vision inside the Castillo and out, this little empress…
“… 2) Taking advantage of feigned distress to satisfy base masculine desires with a lady’s body.
3) Degrading the majesty of Luna while having a vessel that is of disagreeable stature and suitability. …”
This… little… moon doll…
“4) Constantly refusing to share minor enlightenments with his betters.”
This… little… enigmatic bitch…
“5) Failing to achieve comparability with a Creator’s infinite worth; being lesser than ‘the best’. …”
(HOW THE FUCK IS THAT A REAL FAILING!?)
While he’s forced to hold her in his clutches, because she has no life to her and cannot be left alone…?
The woman that broke his psyche with her comfort lists out every “major failing” of his during the last period, too. So brutally candid that he wants to bite through his lip, Adris can only maintain a neutral composure to deny satisfaction for the harm inflicted.
After listening to himself be degraded by the most emotionless voice he’s ever heard for three minutes straight, Adris makes a sigh.
“… Having substituted a french kiss before a romantic one, when rectifying the error, lingering too long in ugly satisfaction.”
“Is… that… all, my lady?”
“…
… Major failings listed, as such, moving to category == [minor/procedural/technical]:
1) Failure to appropriately undress a lady according to verifiable romantic norms.
2) Failure to appropriately kiss a lady during the process with duty given to …”
Where the major ones stop, the truly discriminatory complaints begin.
Far from just action/inaction…
“78) Failure to be knowledgeable of the correct bone structure of a lady to stroke when speaking alluring enticements.
79) Failure to concentrate alluring enticements both on the spirituality AND physicality of the lady in correct 80/20 proportions during undressing.
80) …”
For fifteen minutes and more…
A boy avoids boiling over into a violent rage as the most potent, and petty, tyrant he’s ever slept with drones on in a tinkling voice. Even this can’t bring him to hate the sound.
(I wonder, just maybe, whether I could return her to her precious Luna if I kicked her through that window with all my strength?)
If he’s not allowed to kick her, then perhaps just smother her into his chest until she stops being heard.
For she… continues…!
Staring at him with eyes full of some emotion that he’s never seen in her before. Absolute derision, joined by extreme self-consciousness of what she speaks about.
Unmoving, but still inflicting wounds of a kind Adris has never suffered previously.
(Maybe with the help of [Mountain King]? Ok, if she doesn’t stop in the next five minutes or so, I’ll give it a shot.)
In his heart, Adris discovers an infinite capacity for love and also revulsion, right before it…
952) Suggestions that a lady “should sample every flavor” be an unwelcome one when referring to semen dripping out of her most precious place, proving that a newt’s influence has been irreparably debilitating to a boy/entity’s mental health and sexuality.
953) …”
(It was… just a thought…!)
Something in his heart finally snaps, but he still can’t bring himself to go retrieve his cross and beat her to death, anyway.
(After all… Kol slurps it like fresh cream… and I’m… trying to adapt like I get constantly told to…)
He just softly strokes her head as she continues, prompting the “lady” to close her eyes and snuggle closer to him.
“1178) Patting a genteel lady’s hair beyond a certain regularity be an affectation belonging to treatment of a child and not a lady; furthermore,
1179) …”
(I see, so you’re not “a child”, you little fucking hypocrite who keeps nudging me to rub you in a new direction or spot?)
Sitting with his legs straight out on her strange star-shaped ritual design embedded into the floor, he’s “permitted” to give a lap-pillow to a doll. Closing his senses off entirely to her screed, now a skill he has perfected absent the need for Cethran’s cloth after imprisonment in “heaven”, Adris permits his dear Neesiette to continue well into the new day.
He better spends his time remembering how silky smooth she was inside and out. Excepting, of course, that those delicious folds roughed him up so well.
Characters:
Name: Adris fehl Dain, “Boss”, “Starr”
Titles: Lycia’s Little Brother, Slayer, Gigolo (Self-Admitted)
Race: Xin’El, Emperor’s Child (Human), ???
Sex: Male
Age: ?? – Young
Occupation: Crossbearer; “Star of Ruin, Cast Down from the Sky Upon a Dying World”, Slayer of Petripolis, [True False God]
Discipline: [Rule in Dark]
Powers:
[Tool Savant] – “Adris is a tool-collecting-and-utilizing fanatic. Most men would consider him disgusting for loving tools more than his own partner. Has so many tools that it can be said to be his true power. What does he do when he has no tools left? He seeks to acquire more, obviously!”
[Rule in Dark – Wave of Darkness] – “Making victory possible? No, no, no. That thing isn’t that kind! There’s more than that!”
[Brainfry] – “You’re still with me, right buddy? Yeah, you’re still there.”
[Refuse to Kneel] – “Ah, even the Alchemaster can’t make me submit! This is the one that’s saved me all those times!?”
[Tongue of Air and Darkness] – “What’s the difference between this and the old one? Why ‘air’?”
[Conceptual Refusal] – “How the fuck does dominating people’s minds turn into a weird statement like this!?”
[Marital Arts – Self-taught] – “Hoh, even if it’s dangerous to use, it feels good to prove to myself that the body is still as willing as the mind! Even if I can’t call it aura, something is inside me now!”
[Verisimilitude] – “Stop giving weird names to what I do! But if my imaginative truths are more believable now, I’m not gonna complain.”
[A WONDERFUL CURSE] – “If that old corpse wasn’t already dead, I’d definitely kill him!”
[Authentic Fiction] – “All tales eventually gain sufficient truth if retold often enough, right? Why shouldn’t my fiction be better than ‘reality’?”
Items:
[Lord of Predation] – “BECOME NOTHING MORE THAN FOOD OR PLEASURE FOR ME!”
[The Mountain King] – “[Honor the gods, inheritor, and ever seek victory for their sake.]”
[Amethyst Oracle] “A present from this stuck up hoarder!? Am I gonna die if I use it!?”
Disposition: Resilient / Adaptable / Sinner
Alignment: Chaotic
Eyes: Black
Hair: Black, with strands of White
Skin: Tanned
Statistics:
Rantil Value – “Even after all of that, Master is still an idiot!”
Attributes by Grade:
Strength – E
Vitality – E
Dexterity – D
Agility – C
Intelligence – D
Mentality – C
Luck – F
Charisma – D
“If you want more, stop being mean to Rantil!”
Beauty:
Cethran Value – “Much the same as before, but isn’t the way you look at others a bit more dashing, now? Forced to open yourself to the world, perhaps the gentleman may grow? That is likely impossible, isn’t it, Adris?”
“Yes, gendarmes, I think he’s over here?”
“If you won’t be arrested by the allip, then I guess that means you see her as a true woman now?”
Description:
“A boy who is a bit out of place as far as features, he descended from the top of the Castillo to the bottom by pluck, luck, and outrageous lying. Reborn into the world of Zennia, what can be said other than ‘he’s still exactly the same, but different’?”
“Claiming what should not be claimed is the definition of asking for trouble.”
“Obtains another thing to be afraid of.”
Commentary:
“Fear the great whale.”
Name: Neesiette vera Luna
Titles: “Moon”
Race: Lunamata
Sex: Female
Age: ???
Occupation: Delver, Mystic
Discipline: ???
Powers:
[Rod of Force] – “In what way would it be changed? As designed, so shall it function, correct?”
[Rod of Respelling] – “A lady be every ready to instruct regarding what be in error.”
[“Brings An End” – Ponderous] – “[Ponderous was the end, for the unfair passage of time finally brought even earth to its conclusion]…”
Disposition: Impassive / Calculating / Curious
Alignment: Ordered
Eyes: Pale Violet
Hair: Amber
Skin: Pale White
Statistics:
Rantil Value –
Strength – F
Vitality – F
Dexterity – D
Agility – E
Intelligence – B
Mentality – C
Luck – F
Charisma – C
???
Beauty:
Cethran Value –”First imps, and now short girls? This is certainly becoming a pattern, isn’t it? Though you might not fare badly with a girl as beautiful as this, yes? Though she’s a little perfect, doesn’t she seem oddly demure?”
“Yet of them all, shouldn’t it be said that she’s the only one that has no preattachments to you? So, in truth, isn’t her love potentially more revealing if obtained?”
“Why so afraid of what you’ve claimed, Adris? Didn’t you want to laugh about stealing another’s toy?”
Description:
“An otherworldly existence, she wears clothing that doesn’t fit with the Castillo. With mannerisms quite distinct from all others, even the girls she travels with seem incomparable to her uniqueness. Yet, she definitely seems to be in charge…?”
“But when changed… becomes yours in a way you cannot predict.”
“A humble and energetic (in mentality) lady.”
Commentary:
“Girls say they’re mature, and then something hits them the wrong way. Everyone is just an older kid.”