BHM Trial by Fire - by Xyantha (BHM, WG, Explicit)

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Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
Warning: will be explicit and raunchy than my usual romance types.

Trial by Fire
by Xyantha Reborn

Chapter 1

Another boot slam to the face. “Just! Give! Up! Why! Don’t! You!” Melody howled, punctuating each word by slamming her booted heel into the reptilian face. The sturdy heel made a muted thud on impact, but was no deterrent for the salamander, which continued forward. Rather than pulling away from her, it merely closed the nictitating membranes over its eyes. Below, jaws gaped to reveal sharp, almost transparent teeth.

The rock was sharp against her bare hands, and a nail bent backwards in a flash of pain and irritation. “Look, you slithering piece of accessory, I am so not interested in this right now! Bugger off, or I’ll make you into a nice purse!” Another snap from the jaws, and another boot to the face “And boots!” She would need one, after this escapade. The head slithered backwards with a roar. “That’s right, stink breath! Backoff!”

Grasping the rock carefully, palms throbbing, the witch wedged herself higher into the small cavernous opening she had fit herself into. Luckily for her the cave was narrow enough that she was able to shimmy herself up by spreading her legs and walking up the wall, though it made her tired legs scream in protest. Clear brown eyes narrowed with determination as her hands tightened along the hilt of her long dagger. With the blade facing downward, she prepared to drive it down when the beast came back for round two.

It was bad enough to have been caught by one, but to be eaten by one would be inexcusable! She wouldn’t be able to show her face at all, after that sort of scandal!

Her sensitive ears twitched as roars of frustration echoed off the walls. The sounds of thrashing and snarling followed, but ended before Melody had a chance to figure out what was happening. Silence slowly reigned. Her legs trembled from the effort of holding her position, and yet she still waited for that head to reappear. Water dripped quietly deeper in the cavern, and wind whistled slightly. Below her, the little beetles once again bustled from their holes, and the bats farther within rustled their wings as the settled back into place.

“Great. Now I get to see what killed it, and then kill the killer. Always a bigger fish in the pond,” the young woman sighed theatrically as she released the death grip on her dagger looked down to gage her landing. The view of the floor was suddenly blocked out by a figure stepping into the opening.

Curly brown hair and helmet whipped forward in union. The dark sockets of the helmeted head gazed up at her, grasped her ankle unceremoniously, and yanked her downwards.

The lips which had parted in surprise let out a whoop of shock, but with the reflexes of what seemed to be long habit, the young woman slammed the hilt of her dagger onto the helmet. The head shook slightly but gave no other sign of her attack as she scrambled for purchase. Suddenly, her entire vision seemed to be comprised of his armoured form, and her eyes watered as her back slammed into the rocky and cold ground of the narrow cave floor. At which point she was peremptorily dragged out of the narrow cave, moss soaking her back and rocks and twigs tugging at her hair.

As soon as the armoured figure was clear – he, she could tell by his height and width – turned his back on her, and dragged her another several yards with an iron grip on her ankle. Her kicks, screams and curses didn’t faze him in the least. “Get bent, you rusty suit of junk!” she hollered as her bare hands scrambled for a stone, a stick, anything to replace her dropped dagger. She flung fistfuls of damp dirt and rocks at his back. “I’m going to rip you a new one, punk! You want to wear your skin outside your armour? I’ll skin you and then sew you back up with your ASS on your FACE! Get ready for pain!”

Melody was released abruptly, and she scrambled to her feet. “Thanks - mud pies in my pants, bud, usually I do that myself!” Several yards away, the corpse of the salamander was keeled over. She couldn’t see the dagger without turning away from him, and turning her back on the man who just killed that salamander did not seem like the best plan. “Great, just great! I weaken seal the jar - and you take credit for opening it! Typical male!”

The figure still hadn’t moved, or made a sound. Righto. Time to booketh it! She edged away, and that helmeted head turned with predatory slowness to follow her movements. Now that she was standing, she could tell that the man topped her by at least a foot over her own (barely) five foot frame, and was twice as wide as she was. The armour was interesting – it was very close fitting, and a matte storm grey. It didn’t have any clumsy seams or openings – in fact she couldn’t make out a single seam from here. “Nice armour. Would have loved to see it on my bedroom floor with you skinned beside it. So you going to try and kill me? If so, let’s dance! Just to warn you though, I’m a witch of top notch calibre, so you might get the physical toad body to go with your toady personality.” She flipped her curly hair back over her shoulder, which promptly did exactly what it wanted to.

The figure moved his gauntleted hand close to his face, flicked his middle finger close to his forehead, then tilted his head up slightly. It was almost as if… “Are you trying to tell me ‘oh my god, really?”’ Melody demanded, hands fisting at her sides.

Two index fingers pointed at her, then the thumbs turned up. Right on? He swiped casual fingertips towards her shirt. Glancing down, Melody saw the words she had embroidered herself - ‘W!tch!n’ be B!tch!n’. “You are a sarcastic little shit, for someone who doesn’t talk, aren’t you? Whad’ya want??” She narrowed her gaze at him suspiciously. He didn’t seem particularly threatening. But then, there was a dead salamander laying there, and he had dragged her out of that cave like she was a sack of potatoes. Obviously a strong dude. Obviously not going to kill her instantly. She did love that in her men.

Those huge hands raised in a placating gesture. One hand dipped to his belt, and he tossed a small scroll at her.

It was catch it, let it hit her in the face, or roll away super dramatically. “Can’t you talk?” Melody grumbled, catching the little tube and unrolling the contents.

For the safe return of my pure daughter, Melody of House Justeen,
Prior to her twenty third nameday tournament,
I hereby do pledge the sum of one hundred thousand gold pieces.
Reginald Justeen.

“Oh, dear Papa.” She rolled the script up, shaking her head. “One thing you have to realize…” She placed it back in its tube and tossed it back to the waiting man. “Is that I never go down without a fight!”

The man had caught to tube reflexively. Upon contact, it flashed incandescently, blinding him. Melody didn’t stay to watch – or be blinded herself – but instead quickly vaulted the body of the salamander, grabbed her small pack, and ran headlong into the woods.

Melody expected to hear him swear, or lumber after her. She had accidentally blinded herself with that spell before, and considering that it was just light - damn, it could sting! Instead, all she could hear was silence. She ran, hopping over tree limbs and jumping from rock to rock as much as possible. The forest obligingly scattered leaves and loose dirt across her path as she went, roots curling to obscure her route. After she had travelled what she estimated to be several miles, she sat down and took a deep swig from her skin, calming her breath and listening closely and carefully.

About her, lush green forest lived. Most city folk believed in the quiet of nature. However, nature was utterly deafening to those who stopped to listen. The wind caused leaves to rustle, branches to creak. Mice crackled the dry fallen leaves from the last autumn’s fall. A stream trickled nearby, and birds chirped and cackled above her. Even the dry scrapes of carapaces and the snuffling of small wildlife sounded loud to her. She coughed quietly and spat copper tasting saliva. Damn, she had pushed too hard. Her lungs wanted nothing more than to have her cough, and cough, and cough – a luxury she had to swallow in order to stay hidden.

Taking a sip out of her skin, she sighed. The man was in full, heavy armour – there was no way he could move as quickly or silently as she could. As long as she could stay ahead of him, she would eventually lose him. Rising with another sigh, she swung her bag back onto her shoulder and stepped around the tree, back onto the trail. “SONOFA!” she shrieked as armoured hands grasped her upper arms in a vice grip, twisting her so that her back was against his chest.

He transferred his grip so that her kicking legs couldn’t connect, grasping her arms firmly so that she couldn’t reach her components. His chest wasn’t even rising and falling like he was out of breath!

“Lemme Go! Lemme go! Lemmo go lemme go lemme go lemme go lemme go!” Melody snarled, trying to bash his face with the back of her head, and finally succeeded – against his helmet. “OUCH!” Finally, her efforts wound down, and she panted, hair in her face, staring at their feet.

He shook her slightly. You done? It seemed to demand

“Yes, I am done,” she responded pettishly, sniffing.

He let her go. When she whirled to face him, he set one hand on his hip and waggled the index finger on her other hand admonishingly. He mimed running with two of his fingers, then crossed his forearms decisively.

Melody rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I got it. No running. How did you catch up so fast? Oh. Right, the no talking thing. That is going to get old, fast.” She slung her pack over her shoulder. If she couldn’t lose him or run, maybe she could trick him? “What’s your name?”

In answer, he turned and walked away, flipping his hand forward in a ‘lets go’ gesture.

“I’m going to have to give my new pet a name,” she crooned, pushing damp hair from her skin. Those brown eyes seemed to glow for a moment as a sinister smile slid from one side of her face to the other before disappearing. “I can’t call you ‘it’ the whole trip. I mean, I assume you are male?”

The face of the helmet swung to face her briefly before facing forward.

Blithely continuing, Melody traipsed behind him, biting a fingernail as she skipped. “Bernie. Sam. No! Calvin!” She worried at her thumb a little, eyes traversing his body. The suit was enchanted, that much she could make out. It made her eyes fuzzy to stare at it too long. “Bernard. Lito. George? No, I know, Tommy!”

No response. “Hmm. They say that a puppy will tell you what its name is by reacting. I guess I’ll just have to say every name until I get a response.” She purred, chest swelling to take in oxygen for her next attack.

Several hours later, even Melody was tiring of the game. Her companion had the patience of a rock. Not once had he even glanced at her, except to offer her his hand to cross a stream or climb something. That armour had to be enchanted. Her companion was strong, but no one was strong enough to move with such ease and rapidity over uneven ground without heavy breathing if he was in traditional armour. Even Melody’s calves were aching, even with the forest solicitously holding rocks steady.

The movements of his body were strong and lithe, but she noticed sometimes he moved as if he wasn’t sure exactly where his own body started and ended. It was like he was taken aback by the proximity of his body to other objects.

The weird thing was…the forest wasn’t fucking with him. It should have instinctively responded to the threat against her and lashed out in hundreds of subtle and shitty ways. Rocks would loosen to trip ankles – soil would become sodden to catch at boots. Roots would stretch up just enough to catch unwary feet. Despite its solicitude towards her, the forest didn’t seem bent on ruining his day. The ease and comfort he felt in the forest reminded her of one of her friends from long ago.

“Fenwick. I’m going to call you Fenwick, or Fen for short.”

He finally stopped, putting both hands on his hips. He turned to face her, head lowered. He heaved a sigh. Or at least his shoulders raised and fell - he made no sound. He raised his helmeted head, tilting it to the side. The whole appearance was one of long suffering, patience at an end. Alright. His put his hands out, palms sort of facing her, one over the other. Quickly, he sliced his hands outwards. Fine. One of Fen’s hands made a slow, circling motion with his fingers. The other hand returned to his hip, head still lowered towards her inquisitively. And why?

He gestured like he hadn't spoken in a long time. Very expressive. “You must have been wearing that armour a long time,” Melody observed, choosing to play dumb. “I mean, not only because you seem really good at talking without words. It’s also the smell,” she confided in a loud whisper. She trotted along behind him as he turned away, shaking his helmeted head. “So are you some sort of merc? I mean there is the reward and all, but do you realize what you are getting me into? I’m going to be married off to the highest bidder. Well, not exactly. Technically to the guy who kills all the other guys in some backwards tournament. So, basically a murderer.”

He shrugged indifferently.

“Do you know how not cool that is? I don’t want to marry at all, let alone some murderous idiot who is marrying me for power and wealth! Hey, I’m talking here! A little attention! I’m not going to just go alone with you without a fight, do you hear me? Heads up - I’m going to ditch your metal ass the first chance I get.”

Another shrug.

Melody stamped her foot. “Oh, and I forgot to add – I’m going to annoy the crap out of you every minute of every day until you let me go! Starting on the subject of girls. What’s up with that? I mean, we totally pretend to be friends but secretly we hate each other. You can have one, maybe two girlfriends, then it’s all a lie. There is a maximum girl power quota – the more love you giveth to one girl, the more love you must taketh from another. Girls are SO annoying. They are obsessed about their looks, the guys they can get, and the guys they can’t. I don’t get it. Well, a little bit about the looks. I mean, no girl wants to be the fatty of the group. As long as there is one girl that is fattier, everything is ok.

“Isn’t that a sad and mean thing to say? But it’s true – not of me, but most girls, because they are totally, totally shallow. Unless that fat friend is hotter than you, then they are totally jealous but try to convince themselves they aren’t. ‘Cuz great skin, great tits, and great ass speak for themselves. More cushion for the pushin! If I was into girls I would get me a girl with some curves. Reow!” She made a clawing gesture with her hand. “And then the whole guys thing – they all want a hottie. Even the ugly ones. I mean, you have to be reasonable. If you are a five, you need someone around a five. You can’t be a three and expect a ten.

“Remember Fen, no one screws down. Only across or up. Or down if we are desperate. Or drunk. Or for revenge screws. So I guess that it isn’t much of a rule, ya know?”

Slowly, his left hand raised to the helmeted head, rubbing his left temple.

Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
Chapter 2

Melody stared at Fen.

Fen stared back.

Or at least, she thought he did, but it was hard to tell. In the daylight filtering through the trees the details of the suit were more apparent. Still no seams, no straps, no openings. And the helmet wasn’t just a brain bucket – it was chiseled into well hewn features. It was that blank stare which was particularly disconcerting. “Ok, you win!” Melody admitted, rubbing her eyes. “It isn’t fair, I can’t tell when you blink!”

Fen shrugged, laying his wrists on his knees. He poked the fire with a stick, then fed it into the fire slowly. They had been in the forest for four days now, and he was finally starting to warm up to her.

Melody gnawed on the rabbit he had caught, skinned, and charred. Cooked was too fine a word for just sticking it over the fire. It was a far cry from a feast of epic proportions, but it was good enough. Considering that was what she had resigned her whole life to being, it was paletable. “So… How long have you been a soulless suit of armour?”

He fastened his blank gaze on hers, then tilted his head.

“Well, it’s all I can come up with. You don’t eat, you don’t drink, you don’t pee. Either that or you aren’t human. Maybe you are an elf or something?”

The suit of armour rose. One hand pointed at the rabbit, and the other mimed peeing.

His portrayal was so accurate Melody started laughing. It wasn’t just the hand below his waist – it was how he let his head drop back in mimed ecstasy, and how he rocked back on his heels. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, she acknowledged. A man with a sense of humour could get away with a lot. “Ok, maybe you just do it when you are our hunting and I am not looking. I guess dropping trou’ on the middle of the trail and taking a whizz would be weird.” Her pocket vibrated, and she took out a little mirror. “Oh, hi G!” Melody cried, delighted. “How goes it?”

“Great, lovey! How is life as a fugitive? You look tres’ gorgeous. Love the tan. And the sticks in your hair. Very au natural. How is life as a fugitive?” Her witch friend batted nearly iridescent eyelashes at her in mock flirtation.

Melody raised a hand to her head with a deep cringe. The worst part of this whole thing – other than having to escape to maintain her freedom, almost dying, then being captured to be returned in a most humiliating fashion – was being dirty. She hated being dirty. Just because she was an earth witch did not mean that she relished itchy scalps, sweaty skin and stinky clothes. There were only so many days that a woman could wear the same underwear without them growing…pungent. “Ugh. I need a bath, I know. Being a fugitive ended abruptly when Fenwick decided to nab me for the reward money.”

Giselle wrapped a lock of hair around her finger. “Aooou? Who is Fenwick? And since when is there a bounty on you? I thought your Papa would have just sent out all the king’s horses and all the king’s men. Either that or just pretend you died in a ditch. I mean, it could have gone either way.”

Melody grinned. “I suppose since he learned I had run away and was never going to come back? Or maybe when I told him I would curse his new wife to be warty forever?” Melody’s companion was striding forward with intent. “Oh, here is Fen. Super cutie, eh?” She turned the pocket mirror towards the man so that he was visible to her friend.

“Ooooohhh” Giselle cooed. “You always did like ’em tall dark and handsome! Hello, tall dark and handsome!”

Fen halted his stride, half raised a hand to return the wave Melody could not see, jerked his hand back, then made an oddly subdued gesture of inquiry.

The blonde clapped. “And the silent type! Can you get more cliché? Dearest, do me a favour and give this one a nice tumble for me? mmmmMMM! What I wouldn’t do to get him out of that armour and into my bed!”

Fen lunged forward, reaching for the mirror.

“No Fen!” Melody cried. “Bad Fen! No grabbing!” She threw the arm holding the mirror back, smacking at his head and shoulders with the other. Just as before, each half-hearted blow made a hollow thung sound.

“Remember, D, good friends let friends like vicariously. I’ll want all the…long…big…thick…juicy…details.” Giselle said throatily, then disappeared.

Melody snatched the mirror back from his grasp. “That was my best friend, Giselle!” She snapped in answer to his repeated jabs towards the mirror.

The man snapped his fingers under her nose.

“No! It’s mine!” Melody howled as he took it from her. He slid it down his glove. “I hate you,” she hissed, hands clenched.

He lay down, facing away from her.

Melody stared at his broad back, anger roiling. He thought he could just tromp into her life and take her stuff? An evil smile overspread her face. She was not a witch to be messed with. Time to bring on the pain.


He seemed confused. That helmet turned right. Then left, then right.

“Lost?” Melody asked sweetly, attempting to sound bored and failing miserably.

He ‘glared’ at her over his shoulder before stomping forward with ill grace.

The witch yawned. “Temper, temper, it’s just a question. I’m the one suffering here. I’m hungry, I’m thirsty, and I smell!” It had been nearly a week since Fen had taken her mirror. She could occasionally hear it buzzing in his glove, but he never acknowledged it other than to touch it with his other glove. It has been seven days of following the looping, recursive path that brought them back to this same spot. Every day. Even if they slept somewhere else.

His mounting frustration was highly amusing to her. He seemed confounded by his inability to leave the path. Even striking out, they somehow kept meeting up to this same stone. He had even begun marking it with his knife, counting each time they passed. Not that it helped. This confirmation only seemed to deepen his dismay.

It was also vastly convenient that he couldn’t talk – since he couldn’t really ask her a question, she never really had to lie. That lack of speech really seemed an inability, not a choice, because if he could have demanded ‘what the hell’…he obviously would have.

Speaking of what the hell. He spun on his heel to face her, stalking up to her. Taking her shoulders in his hands, he shook her slightly. Perhaps if they had met under different circumstances – such as where he was not actively trying to circumvent her wishes for autonomy – he would have been a fun glamping partner. But this was not glamping, he was being a dickwad, and she did not want to go home!

Melody blew a strip of greasy hair off her forehead as she pulled her best Giselle. Eyes as wide and innocent, rapidly batting lashes. “Aww. I know. I stood up for myself. I am SUCH a bitch,” she crooned, blowing a kiss at him. Growing serious, she gazed up at him. Look, you may be lost or something, but that isn’t any reason to stop taking care of ourselves. If I don’t bathe soon I am going to lose. My. Shit.”

It might have been her enunciation, it might have been the way green dots began to fire about her like tiny fireflies, or it might have been the half crazed look in her eye that begged; just try and stop me, I dare you! Whichever the reason, the man released her to clench his gauntleted fists at his side. After another long glare, he stalked over to the river they had passed several times. Passed again and again and again - because she looped the path. Oopsie. Teehee. Dick.

The armoured hand pointed at the water, and she rolled her eyes at him. “Seriously? You want me to strip and just walk out naked in front of you?”

His arms crossed over his chest resolutely.

“I’m not going to run!” I’m totally going to run! “Fine!” she threw her hands up in disgust and peeled the disgusting garments off her body, throwing them down at the water’s edge. She straightened her back, thrusting her ass and chest out.

Fen settled down in a crouch, seemingly unaffected by her nudity. Which was weird. No stranger to her own sexuality, Melody knew her breasts were shapely for their size, with rose coloured nipped that had thrust forward against the cooler night air. Her legs were toned from running around the forest for years, but were anything but thin. Her ass and hips were generous.

So why the lack of lookie-look? Huffing, the witch made her way into the stream, cursing at the coldness. It was awkward, and cold, and the fact that Fenwick was watching her like a hawk wasn’t making it any easier. Finally, shivering, she made her way closer to shore. A low sound rumbled in the distance. Horses?

Pausing to glare at him while she dragged her clothes into the water, she also leveled a finger at him to underscore her point. “You are out of your mind if you think for a SECOND I will put these back on without being cleaned and dried first. If you try and stop be I swear to everything unholy I will shuck you out of that armour like an oyster and use your spleen to make a love potion.”

Fenwick’s unblinking gaze and unwavering attention on her movements was only belief by his impatiently drumming fingers against his armoured thigh. His anxiety grew when she hung them to dry, rinsing herself back off. He pointed at the spot beside him.

“Eat bat guano,” Melody told him happily, luxuriating in the feel of the cool water slipping around her body, caressing her skin with icy fingers. Clean at any cost! She dove into the clear water, slicing along the bottom before breaching the surface several yards away to stand on a submerged mossy rock. “I am not getting out until I am clean. That could take hours,” she added slyly, realizing that with that heavy armour he was sure to sink. At this point the river was just at her shoulder height, but farther downstream it rapidly shallowed to create a pure froth and roar before flooding into the deeper part of the basin. As long as she was in the water, she was at liberty. Scooping up two handfuls of water, she flung them into the air, laughing out loud at her own temporary genius.

Another stab at the ground, another lowering expression from the expressionless suit of armour.

“EAT. BAT. GUANO!” Melody repeated, crossing her arms and falling backwards into the water, arms still raised. If she could make it over those rocks, she might be able to make it to freedom. The current was fast enough that if she swam with it, she could probably outpace him. It was only a matter of time before he noticed the little rock figure holding their looping course and stomped on it. And then it was even less of a matter of time before he took her back to her father. He’d probably do it with her draped over his shoulder as she kicked and screamed. A smirk tugged her lips. “Never go down with dignity, right Giselle?”

Rising, he stalked after her, snapping his fingers.

“I am not a dog! I am not even our woman! I don’t even like you!” She yelled. “I was doing perfectly fine until you decided to come ‘rescue’ me and hand me over to my father so I can be whored out! Forgive me if I don’t want to kneel at your feet, O Great One! Now go rust somewhere else, and leave me in peace!” She slammed her closed fist down on the water, then froze. “What the?” The entire surface of the water shivered uncontrollably, then seemed to drain away.

His head snapped upstream. Suddenly the man who seemed reticent to touch her and even less willing to enter the water was barreling towards her. Thick black thighs worked, and his armoured feet suddenly splashed at water that had, seconds ago, been waist height. Looking to the left, Melody froze. Her gaze darted to the riverbank, to where the colour of the rocks showed the water was usually much higher. Oh crap.

The ground rumbled as large boulders and trees whipped through the frothing mass bearing down on them.


Library Girl
Staff member
Library Mod
Jun 21, 2008
A day with a new Xyantha story is always a good day!

I must say though - a witch named Melody - has a bit of an oxymoron ring in my ears. But I'll get used to it ;)

Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
Chapter 3

His black visage seemed to take up her entire frame of vision as he sprinted forward. Despite his lack of expression, she fancied panic in his gaze – which would be fitting, considering the flood of water and debris barreling headlong towards them. Her body was whipped around to spoon with his, his legs and arms pulling her into a tight ball within his embrace.

And then it felt like she had fallen from a great height.

Air was forced from her lungs in a rush, and they went careening under water. One large hand covered her face, but he could not cover all of her. Bits of stone and wood whipped against her skin, and his entire body shuddered from large objects hurtling into the. Her bones were going to shatter, she knew it. Even with Fen’s body protecting her, every moment seemed to bring a fresh jarring, a slamming against something. He was holding her so tight in a little ball she couldn’t move. How was he taking such a beating? And how much longer could she fight the urge to fill her lungs?

The jarring through his body was palpable, each blow so strong it numbed her even through his body. Every once and a while they surfaced just enough for Melody to grab a tiny mouthful of air, and just long enough to see the forest spin by at a dizzying rate. Blue sky – green trees – water. Blue green swirls and water. Green and water. She felt his legs impact the stony rockbed once again, propelling them up to a spinning world of flotsam. As she gasped in a fresh breath of air she saw a huge log – an entire tree, really, come barrelling down, seeming to gain speed on them. The thick foliage trashed, branches thicker than her waist snapping like twigs and sending water into the air.

She gaped at it, feeling its palpable pain even through the water surrounding them. It was going to crash right into them, at this rate. The tree wailed out a warning as it was flipped like a stick through the air above them. “No!” she cried, closing her eyes. Apparently feeling her presence, it responded with the only recourse available to it. With a shuddering howl of agony, it rent itself in half.

Both sides of the trunk slammed into the water, and Melody hid her face against his chest as a dull, familiar roar sounded. The only saving grace of the high flood water was that the rocks underneath were mostly submerged, and the only real impact was falling the half dozen feet into the basin.

“Fen?” Melody gasped as their progress slowed somewhat. The river was wider and deeper here, and more able to accommodate the sudden, massive flow. His grip was loosening, even as the water calmed. “Fen?” She demanded again fearfully. “We need to get to shore!” Beside her, something dark bumped at her shoulder before beginning to sink. “Fen!” she cried yet again, snatching at the waterlogged – and very heavy – piece of metal. All around her, the bits of his armour seemed to break apart, releasing her.

Whirling around, the witch gaped to see the empty suit of armour beginning to sink, lifeless. “No, no!” she cried, snatching at his other glove. Choking and spitting water, her ribs twinging, she stared down as they sunk into the water beneath her. Fuckingdamnshit! What was she supposed to do after that display of bravery? Let him rust? Plus, fucking magical obligation! Kicking off, struggling against the current and the weight of the gloves, she struck out for shore.

Reaching it, she threw the gloves to the ground before wading back into the silty water. “Fen! Get your ass back here!” She demanded, knowing it was useless. Water interfered with her abilities, and metal was not something she felt akin to. How was she supposed to find all the bits of him? And in water so murky? She stared down at the water, almost as much mud as liquid, and suddenly grinned. Maybe there was enough dirt that she could…

Only one way to find out! Diving back into the water, she struck downward for the bottom.


“It’s no use,” she gasped, on hands and knees as she stared down at the bits of metal before her. Two boots, two gloves, the helmet, and the metal leggings. Those leggings were one piece, and frozen into a sort of crouch – the last position he has been in. What was missing? The chestpiece.

And it was getting darker. Not truly night, but that overall dimming of the sun as the trees blocked the light. If she hadn’t been able to locate them in the day, locating them in the night would be impossible. Without all the pieces, she wouldn’t be able to do anything. Despite her ribbing him and his dissembling, she had long since suspected that her erstwhile captor was actually a spirit locked into an inanimate object. Though a spirit could be locked to anything, they were inherently limited by the shape they were attached to. Thus common objects tended to be armour that could move on its own, or things that people moved a lot such as swords.

Dumping out the water from the gloves, she snatched at the falling mirror. “G! G!” she cried, rubbing the wet surface.

Giselle’s appeared, concern on her beautiful face. She looked half asleep, quickly brushing hair from her face. “Melody? What’s wrong? You look like shit. No offense.”

“It’s Fen, she coughed, swiping fingers puckered from water over her damp face. “He got exploded into a million pieces.”

“Gross,” Giselle murmured, looking rather fearful her friend might turn the mirror to show her.

Melody shook her head violently. “No, not like that. He’s a squan – and I can’t find the last piece!”

Her friend’s brow rose, her cheeks growing pale. An odd appearance of disgust laced over her features. “D, dearest, why would you want to reassemble a squan?” Her tone was gentle, but that same distaste was audible in her words. “Things dead are better left dead.”

“He’s a good guy, G.” It would take too long to remind her friend of the mystical obligation binding magical creatures, when that magic was used to save another. If he died, she would carry a perpetual mark on her soul for unfulfilled obligation. “Look – I need your help. I don’t have time to justify myself to you. I think the marking is on his chest piece – I’ve searched everywhere for it. It’s got to be at the bottom of the river.” To her friend’s blatantly curious face – why are you wet? why is he at the bottom of the river? - Melody tersely bit out; “Someone set the river on us, he ran in to protect me, then got battered into pieces. I need your help locating that last piece.” As a water witch, Giselle would have more umph.

But as a prejudiced witch, she might not help. Her friend’s nostrils flared, and she hesitated. “Melody…maybe its best left alone. I mean, maybe the seal washed off,” she added hopefully, again that odd expression settling on her face.

The bedraggled witch’s face grew suffused with red. “I don’t have time for this. If you are my friend - you will help me, G!”

“Are you seriously making the reassembly of a squan a tier one friendship request?” Giselle gaped. Seeing the resolute expression staring stonily back at her, she sighed, crossing her arms over her bountiful chest with difficulty. “Fine. Let me in, then.”

Ignoring the subsequent grumbles, Melody lowered her guard, allowing her best friend to ride shotgun. Opening her eyes, she waded into the water. “Can you sense him?” she demanded, plunging her hands into the mix of muddy water. “I tried to use the soil in the water to get a read on it, but no luck.”

Um. Maybe? I sense something – but it’s farther upstream than where you are. Head up there.

Obeying, the naked witch trudged back upstream in the shallows. “Closer?”

Mm, Giselle assented, her voice terse with strain. I feel something coming from between those rocks.

Melody’s arm rose of its own accord to point to a series of rocks which formed an outcrop. The water rushed between them – but now that Melody was looking out for it, the rocks were complaining like something was stuck in their teeth. Wading forward, the witch snapped her fingers. “Give it up, now, please.”

Getting the chestpiece from between the willing rocks was easy – avoiding the thought that the seal might have washed off was much harder.

Why do you care so much, Giselle demanded as she returned to her body on the other side of the mirror. “It isn’t like you are long lost buddies. He snatched you to return you to your father. By reassembling him, all you are doing is guaranteeing that you are going to go back. Just leave him – run and escape as far as you can!”

Falling to her knees with a grunt, Melody laid the piece of armour among the rest, peering in and out from every angle. “I don’t remember the symbol,” she fretted, wringing her hands. “I wish I had paid more attention to that shady guy in that inn, now!” she chuckled wetly. Because all the best spells were found at shady inn – witchin’ 101!

Giselle rubbed one of her eyebrows, rolling her head on her neck and working her jaw. “Damn that was exhausting. What symbol?”

“The binding symbol. It must have washed off. If I knew it, I could add it back.”

Blue eyes hardened. “Don’t you dare, D! That’s bad magic! You don’t know his real name, do you?” At the soft shake, she continued. “And you don’t know who he was, really. So you are doing to reach into the nether for a soul of someone you don’t know – and then put it into a suit of armour, just hoping it is the right one? What if it is the wrong one? And that’s ignoring the fact that playing with souls is a big, major no-no!”

“I won’t do anything stupid,” Melody reassured Giselle – keeping her twined middle and index finger behind her. “I guess…I’ll just head out,” she added vaguely. “Thanks for your help anyway, G.” Shutting the mirror on what looked like a protest, she settled back on her heels, picking up a sharp rock. “When have I ever done anything stupid?” Every day, every way, always?

“Now…Fen. I am so curious as to how your soul got attached to this armour,” she confessed softly as she began carefully etching out a design on the interior of his chestplate. It was the safest spot, she assumed. He might lose his helmet or a gloves and still be able to move, and those pieces would be easier to be lost. “I just hope this is the right symbol, or else I will end up attaching a demon. Hahaha, right?” she shook her head, perspiration beading her brow as she finished the interior design.

“Squan…” the witch inhaled. “What did you get yourself tied up with, I wonder?” She carefully ran the stone again and again over the marks, deepening the cuts. The stone in her hand heated uncomfortably, caught between her own command to etch and the magic in the armour commanding it to slide by harmlessly. “I mean, you haven’t been malevolent, or cruel. You seem more like you are trying to complete a quest. I thought it was to return me, but why would a squan want to return me to my father? That makes no sense,” she added. “I can’t just accept that it is random! I have to see your reasoning for myself, through our game of interpretive hand gestures, Fen!” Beside her, her little compact mirror buzzed so hard it skittered on the ground. Giselle was pissed.

“I mean, nature kind of looks out for me. And you never hurt me. Even if your intentions were bad, the forest would have sensed it.” Her arms quivered as she stopped a hairsbreadth from finishing the circle. “Here goes,” she swallowed, patting the broad chest. “Ready?” With one last forceful slash, she finished the circle.

Hardly daring to breathe, she placed the chest plate and other pieces in proximity to each other. Slowly, a sinister energy wound about the objects, pulling them together. First the chest plate and leggings seamlessly joined, then boots, arms, gloves. Finally, the suit stirred, sitting up and placing its own head back on. That dark feeling sunk down into the ground, much as the stirred up silt in the river as the form sat motionless.

“Um, Fen?” Melody queried, clearing her throat several times. “That you, old buddy, old pal?” And not a demon. Please, not a demon. Belatedly, the witch rolled her head around to gage where the nearest trees were, in case she needed to book it.

The helmeted head turned to regard her, briefly patting the chest piece in seeming disbelief. That frozen gaze turned to look at both gauntleted hands, turning them over and over, and he even wriggled his ankles as if shocked. Finally, he raised its gaze to her face. His right hand hesitated, hovering over the new seal on his chest. The hand clenched into a fist before the fingers splayed, that head cocking to the side. Why? It seemed to ask.

Melody sagged, recognizing that body language and the energy roiling out from the suit. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m wet, exhausted – oh, and still naked – and all I want to do is find somewhere warm and sleep for days.”

Fen lurched to his feet, fingers flexing and shoulders rolling. The previously stiff suit was once again made malleable through magic, reacting and flexing like a person. Reaching down, he scooped her up into his arms and strode away.

“Stop! My mirror!” When he snatched it off the ground and handed it to her, she pillowed her face against the uncomfortable metal. “Thanks. I’m glad you are ok, Fen.” She yawned, her jaw cracking. “The figurine I used to lock the path was destroyed. You will be able leave, now.” She yawned again, shivering. “I just hope you go somewhere warm,” she murmured, languor stealing over her. “And Fen?”

The helmet tilted down to look at her.

“No peeking, okay? I know I am hot shit, but like my men a little bit…fuller bodied, ok?”

The head shook with apparent ruefulness.


the bitchy one
Nov 26, 2010
Explicit and full of magic Xyantha's story... it was worth all the wait!


Busy writing
May 8, 2006
Oh, interesting one Xy! I'm excited to see this unfold (especially the explicit part, :p).

Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
Chapter 4

It was warm, and she was dry. Her jaw worked in the dark as she hissed in a deep breath, slowly returning to consciousness. Back, forth, and back, and forth. Her limbs felt like they were moving of their own accord, and her backside and crotch rested on something firm and unyielding. Despite being warm and dry, she was not comfortable. Aches radiated along her limbs and back, twinges of hard labour she was unaccustomed to. As Melody’s eyes cracked open, no light reached her except for a deep, pulsating crimson. Eyes opening more fully, she gasped, jerking back so quickly that her head slammed against metal. “Owie!” she cried, unable to cradle her head with her arms outstretched. “Fen?” she yelped in panic, then immediately scowled in shame at her dependence on the oaf.

The warmth surrounding her seemed to increase, and the vigilant, outward facing presence that she sensed peripherally turned inward with a near violent intensity. ???

“Fen? Is…am I…is this the inside of your armour?” Melody demanded, trembling at the closeness and curbed anger she felt. The marks she had carved with her own hands stared her full in the face, a baleful red that stared back at her accusingly. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, the impact of what she had done striking her full force.

The assent she felt was as clear as if she had seen him nod his helmeted head, but was accompanied by feelings so different from his outward mien that she struggled to grasp it. When she had imagined what Fen was really like, she had kind of imagined a stoic warrior. One who was not quick to anger, and rational even in that anger. Instead, there seemed to be a roiling rage, a sort or restless prowling of his spirit within the confines of the suit. “I…uh…sorry,” she stammered. Carefully withdrawing her arms from the swinging suit arms, she rested her hands just below the carved symbol. Speaking directly to that glowing circle, struck through with interlaced arcs, she continued. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Are you angry that I put your soul back in this body? Did I do it wrong? Should I…undo it?”

A long, tense silence answered her, pressure building until her heartbeat was loud in her ears. Finally, it relaxed like a pent up sigh. The tension and rage, though not gone, settled around her like attack dogs on standby.

“Oh!” she gasped, feeling a feather light touch on the tip of her nose, and a sort of cold, wordless amusement. “Thank you for saving me, Fen,” she said with utmost seriousness. “I didn’t feel that attack coming at all. Though, I feel obliged to remind you, that I wouldn’t have been in that situation except for you kidnapping me and all. Bad Fen!”

A wisp of curiosity curled around her throat, a tendril of cool mist feeling like a hand. The suit kept marching, her legs swinging along within the legs like a child sitting at a chair far too large for it.

It was amazing, how clearly she could feel his emotions. It was as if his own emotions reverberated inside her. Not as if they were her own emotions, but as if it were a loud noise that she could feel in her bones. Feeling it so clearly, and being the emotive sort herself, words spilled from her lips. “I could always kind of tell what you were thinking, but I can feel it even more clearly, now! To answer your question, the reason I couldn’t feel the magic was the water. I’ve got a strong affinity for soil and earth and growing things. Air and water aren’t really my speciality…they kind of…muffle what I can hear. Besides, I wasn’t really looking for an attack.”

The thread of mist transferred pressure around her throat, as if a cool hand casually grasped her life in its grip.

Somehow, though, it didn’t seem threatening. Even when Fen had dragged her by her ankle, or shaken his finger at her in warning, it never really felt directed at her. It felt more like exasperation, if anything. “Why would I expect to be attacked?” She demanded. “I’m not even good at being a witch. I mean, I can do the basics, but I could never master anything big. I don’t have enough power. I just…have an affinity, you know?” She rested her forehead against the glowing rune. “Why would anyone want to kill me? I mean, G and I have done some pretty crazy stuff, but nothing anyone would kill over. And considering there is that stupid bounty on me, I figured I was pretty much guaranteed safe passage, even if someone did find me.”

Fen’s energy roiled within the confines of the suit, a riot of emotions running rampant. The emotions were like deepest foliage she had tried to wade through – there was soft touches, spiny thorns and burrs of anger, tendrils of hardness that bound it all together, and it was so dense that seeing past the surface was damn near impossible. Finally settling, he turned his ‘attention’ back on her. The same demand came, and she nattered away, but his impatience seemed to be growing, vines pulsing and lashing with anger. Why save?

The whispered words were close to her ear, and she shivered. Pain and sorrow and anger reverberated in the simple words. “So you can talk!” she smiled, pushing aside her unease. “I knew you were just playing hard to get.” She batted her eyelashes and pursed her lips at the rune.

Realization seemed to strike him …remade me... The voice hesitated.

Her stomach plummeted. Know what was worse than associating with a Squan? Practing the necromantic spell and binding one to you. Social faux paus to the extreme. “We’ll have to work on you using full sentences,” she rambled blithely, eyes opening wide. “Anywho, I rescued you - because that’s what friends are for!”

Friends? He demanded roughly, his mental voice sounding rusty from misuse.

The confines of the suit once again grew claustrophobic with heat and pressure, the rune before her eyes smouldering, wavering as if from intense heat. “Well…I mean, you did capture me and were going to return me to a life I hate, just for some gold. But I’m not one to hold a grudge, and you did feed me and keep me warm. And you didn’t kill me even though I tempted you kind-of-maybe on purpose.” A lot on purpose.

He held himself very still, even as the armour continued to march forward briskly. On purpose. He repeated flatly.

Melody nodded, twining a dirty curl around her finger. So much for getting clean. “Yeah. Like I said, I’m not a great witch. I don’t really have, um, you know. Powers.” She blushed, examining her nails in the ruddy haze. “Giselle is the one with the crazy strong powers. All I have is my affinity to the forest. If you had tried to kill me, the forest would have beaten your armour into dozens of pieces and swallowed it into the earth until the elements rusted you out. Then I could have gone on my merry way!”

Instead of the anger she expected, amusement poured out of him. Glad there was some sort of plan, he finally snorted, invisible gaze once more turning outward.

“Where are we going?” she abruptly asked, raising her head. She knew for a fact that the suit was larger than her, but somehow it sized to her legs so that the bending of his knees did not shatter her legs, but the upper part of the suit was still oversized, only bringing her head up to his chest level. She was beginning to notice that the friction of the movement between her legs felt very pleasurable, and she shivered, hoping he could not sense her rising arousal. It had been so long since she was able to pleasure herself, of course she was ready to go off like a rocket!

The squan took so long to answer she thought he was ignoring her. An inn, he finally admitted.

Melody gasped, clasping her hands to her chest. “Oh my – Fen! Fen! Fen! Fen! Fen! Fen! Fen!”

What?! He demanded, sounding quite irascible.

“Hee!” she grinned. “I am so glad I really do annoy you, on the inside!” That tendril wound around her throat again as if mock strangling her, and she let out a giggle. “Fen, can I have a bath at the inn?”

I suppose, he ground out at last. But do not run from me, Melody.

“Just give me a bath, some food, and some mama time and I will be good – I’ll go right to sleepy sleep!”

Ma-ma time? He echoed.

“You know.”

He didn’t, it appeared.

She drummed her fingers on his armour absently. “Well, um. You know. Womansplaining myself. Finger painting? Buttering your muffin? Ugh, Fen!! Stop being so clueless!” For based on the blank stare he was giving, he had no idea what she was talking about. “I’m so horny I am about to spooge all over your armour – ” Too late. That sort of ‘hey, am I peeing myself a bit or am I really excited’ question was already happening. “I need to go take care of my women parts before I explode! You know, slicing the surf, tapdancing on –”

Ugh! Get out! He bellowed, chinks of light appearing in the joins of all his armour as his disgust wafted over her.

Immediately, voices and sounds blared into her conciousness, pungent scents overtaking her – all the sounds of a town suddenly clamoured about her. Extremely closely. The other thing that wafted over her was a breeze, felt all the more clearly over her naked skin. “Don’t you dare put me in the middle of a street in my birthday suit, Fen!” Melody hissed, smashing the bottom of her first against the rune in front of her face.

Aghast horror, distaste, and a sort of helpless keen were squashed as the light closed off, and he began running. Or, rather, fleeing.

She swallowed, head rocking back against the back of the armour. I wonder if I should tell him that he is making it worse, she mused as the friction rapidly increased. The pleasurable addition of a firm slap betwixt her thighs every time his foot hit the ground made her roll her eyes in ecstasy. Take what you can, when you can, she purred. He eyes closed as she luxuriated shamelessly in the sensation, realizing just how long it had been since she had enjoyed herself with a man. Just didn’t think it would be Fen.

Stop it! He shouted frantically as he nearly skidded to a stop – her legs were still in his, following all his motions bonelessly. As he ran up what must be stairs, he panted, Get out get out get out get out!

Light burst into her field of vision as he skidded to a halt and summarily ejected her. “Wh-ah-UGH!” she unsexily caterwauled as she hit the floor. “The hell, Fen?”

He backed away from her, holding his hands away from his body as if he had gotten feces on them. He pointed at a bag on the floor and bolted from sight.

“Big baby,” Melody sighed as she locked the door behind him. “Can’t take a real woman, eh?” Casting a curious glance around her, her eyes lighted upon a very simple room with some small luxuries. Prior to adventuring with Giselle, she hadn’t known that most inns had pallets instead of beds, or that having anything more than a bucket and a few hooks was uncommon. However, a quick prowl around the room revealed all these things, and a bath already full with warm water. “I’d feel sorry for whoever Fen kicked out to get this room, but…” she trailed her fingers lightly along the surface. “I’m a selfish thing at heart...”

Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
Chapter 5

Melody ogled. Shamelessly. Obviously. The most gorgeous male she had ever seen in her life had just sauntered into the bar and was making his way into the room. Suddenly brought back to herself, she swiped the back of her wrist over her mouth, checking for drool. Only a few dribbles, at most, she reassured herself breathlessly.

It wasn’t just his confident saunter that caught her eye – it was everything about him. He stood out in the crowd like a black raven among speckled doves. He was obviously a half breed. His lighter skin allowed him to blend more easily into the crowd, but his light lilac eyes stood out like a beacon in the night. The predatory eyes of a wolf shone out from under a very broad brimmed hat. The hat edges swept out from his head elegantly for at least half a foot, the top lightly pointed. A distinctive hat for a distinctive man. Based on his broad shoulders and musculature, he was probably mixed with a human.

He saunter, she was rabidly convinced, held just a hint of a waddle. A sort of roll across his broad hips and soft middle. Part of that soft middle was exposed by the plunging ‘v’ of his shirt, which reached almost to his navel. It was only held from flaring wide open by a clasp at the neck, and gave tantalizing glimpses of a soft middle below the flowing fabric.

For several long minutes the witch blatantly loved him with her eye, her spoon forgotten in her hand, her drink untouched by her elbow. Around them, bar patrons milled about and the waitresses flaunted back and forth. He seemed to be looking for someone – a stack of cash was exchanges over the counter, and words were exchanged. Rather terse words, as the barkeep seemed to feel that the halfblood was trouble waiting to happen.

Her bath had been lovely, and had given her some alone time she desperately needed. Melody knew she was smart, but self-reflection was rather boring. It took pretty extreme circumstances for her to internalize and analyze events – and the past few weeks had been chock full of them. From fleeing her home to getting snagged by Fen. Then to that river...she shivered. More and more Melody was convinced that it had been designed to murder her. Something about the residual magic -and the sheer violence that had been unleashed – told her this was neither a prank or delay tactic.

And then there was Fen himself. Unable to talk with G, she fretted over possible outcomes. What she had done was wrong – balance of nature and all that. But, Melody was someone who followed her instincts without fail, and they had told her to act. Then again, there was a stigma – ha! – a black mark on your soul for practicing necromantic stuff. Then yet again – she hadn’t really done it, per say, she had only kind of redone it. That wasn’t as bad as originally doing it, was it?

Was redone even a word? Agh! The questions she would never have an answer to!

And now, here was a purrrfect distraction. Hot guy, get some fun on, no strings, and then move on. After all, she realized with a frown. Once she was taken back to her father she would be forced into a marriage and never have fun ever again.

Finally, he rested against the bar, nursing a drink and appearing deep in thought. Two lines appeared between his brow as he frowned, looking perplexed.

Melody felt rather perplexed herself – it wasn’t often she felt such a draw to a person.

As if finally sensing her presence, he abruptly twisted to regard her. Those lilac eyes slid over every other person, finding hers with unerring accuracy. He appeared angry, a scowl distorting his features.

Unabashed, Melody winked.

The anger in his gaze seemed to pool away, and though he stared with startling intensity, it was no longer threatening. And without that scowl, his features were more than pleasant, his ears in clear view under the brim of his hat.

Yeah, come on sexy, she purred, devouring him with her eyes. She had a soft spot for Shivas, and this one had a soft spot too. Smack dab in the middle of his body. That was probably the most obvious sign of his mixed blood – no other Shiva she had ever met had an ounce of extra fat on them. That and his much paler skin, though far darker than her own. The bar was full – except for the seat she was retaining (viciously) for her erstwhile protector (should he ever return), there wasn’t a seat to be had. The hybrid surveyed the room with a steady gaze, removing his wide hat and shaking off the rain she had not even known was falling.

Oh…my…gods…! The ears…! Long, slender, they arched back and slightly out. Unlike the nubs of human ears, these were at least three inches long, and more mobile then her. She wanted to nibble the tip until he squirmed. One twitched under her gaze, and she grinned, patting the seat next to her. Here shiva shiva shiva…Mamas gonna get her some some-some! Just a little closer…I don’t bite. Much.

The hesitation in his manner gave way under a shrug, and he meandered over to her, that walk like a sexy drawl. Unhurried, yet purposeful. And bits of flesh winked at her through that deep v. Seating himself, he jerked his chin towards her in thanks. The other patrons unconsciously gave him a wide berth. Shiva weren’t always hated, but they generally were not exactly liked.

She was very vocal about liking her men ‘tall, dark and handsome’. What she often didn’t bother to add was she liked ‘em big. Like, tubby. No man was complete without a nice broad middle to brace against while she ground against their hard cock. And it had been such a long while since she got to enjoy herself. “So…” the witch purred, leaning towards him and resting her chin in her cupped hands. “What’s your name, handsome?”

Dark, winged brows rose. An expression she liked hovered at the corners of his lips. “What, and ruin the mystery?” His voice was a little deeper than the tenor of most Shiva, and had a husky quality to it she rather fancied.

Waaaaaaantt. “True. I think I’ll just call you Handsome.” She winked, sipping at her own tankard. Daaaaaaaammnnnn he was fiiiiinnnneee! Suddenly she was glad she had taken that third bath. Though… she rubbed her legs together experimentally, then grimaced at the result. Flushing, she realized her underarms were probably in the same shambolic state. Way to go against the ‘bush woman’ witch stereotype, Melody…

Those brows twitched again, and he hid a grin in the foam. When he grinned like that, his ears dipped down at the tips. Three rakish bands of metal pierced the bottom of the left one. “Not afraid of me, are you? Not afraid I’ll still your beating heart?”

“Yes, be still my heart,” Melody cried theatrically, clutching at her bosom. She was proud of that bosom – large, soft and perky. Her gesture sent a ripple through one plump melon.

Those lilac eyes followed that ripple. “We are evil, you know,” he returned coolly.

Evil was such a matter of opinion. Their customs definitely were not like those of humans, which is where most of the tension originated from. But she had actually known Shiva before, and liked them. “Maybe I can reform you,” Melody said suggestively, allowing one strap of the shirt a maid had purchased for her to slide a little down her arm. Shiva were inherently more evil than their fair skinned cousins…but ironically in some ways, that made them more ‘human’, and less holier than thou.

A snort answered her, and Handsome raised his glass. “Cheers. To new beginnings?”

“Cheers. To new acquaintances.” She drained her glass, and he drained his.

“Odd, that you are here alone.” Those eyes raked down, then up her body. That light gaze seem to weigh her, judge her, and caress her all in the same moment. His eyes were large and clear, and his expression was a mix of danger and sleepy affability. That mouth looked curved and ready for kissing against skin that had no stubble.

Jealous? Yes. Not having to be furry would be heavenly. But she wasn’t going to let a little thing like that stop her from having a possibly sexy-time. G always said Melody had an ‘infallible sense of self-confidence’ – which she usually followed up with ‘…but not self-preservation’. Whatever! She pouted, crossing an ankle over her knee and letting her skirt hike up. “My guard up and ran off. Can you imagine? Good thing you showed up to keep me company…” The light from the fire added lustre to her gaze, and without her noticing, a tendril of some weed snaked its way around his boot, tickling his calf.

The hybrid jerked, startled, and glanced down. The vine was caressing the back of his knee rather suggestively, creeping upwards along his thigh. He grinned, cocking his head, and white teeth gleamed. “Ran off and left you? Then he must be a fool.”

She tossed her head, stamping her foot. “He’s near. He barely lets me out of his sight for long. Besides, he made it clear he doesn’t see me what way. In fact - I don’t want to talk about him anymore,” she finished loftily.

“Ahh…the mystery is clearing up. I am a consolation prize?” The shameless grin he offered again made a little double chin appear, and for his muted fangs to make an appearance. Again, not as razor sharp as a Shiva, yet more pronounced than the canines of a human.

She touched that little bulge of fat lightly with her forefinger, letting her eyes travel down his body. For a human, he was chubby. For a Shiva, he would be considered fat. Broad shoulders met a relatively muscular chest, which softened towards the bottom. His tummy was soft and full, pooching out over his belt. The fat merged with the fat on his sides, creating a delightfully soft muffin top. And that deep V stopped right above his navel, making her itch to tear the fabric wide open.

Letting her eyes meet his she grinned. “Nope. You, Handsome, are more of my ‘type’.” She gently pinched that little pad of fat below his chin and angled her face in for a kiss, ignoring his quirked brow and expression of blatant disbelief.

Kissing had always been fun, but it was just a pre-requisite to allowing her close enough to grind herself off. Maybe a little light petting and groping. As perpetually horny as she was, she rarely liked to go past that point, unlike Giselle. And for good reason – G’s flagrant display of her sexual side was what had gotten her friend banished to the tower.

Long, mobile fingers wrapped around her head, cupping the nape of her neck and drawing her in closer. Before their lips met, those luminescent lilac eyes sent a piercing glance into hers, probing, questioning. He kissed the right corner of her lips with luxuriating slowness before ghosting his lips along her lower one.

The touch of his hand against her head caused her entire scalp to tingle, impossible warmth seeping through her skin. His warm breath smelled of the mead he had just downed, and his skin reminded her of leather on a warm summer day, along with the bite of copper. When he finally allowed their lips to touch, a visceral kick below her sternum molten pleasure to seep down into her core, her thighs unconsciously twined together before falling open. Every hair on her body rose in answer to his touch, and she suddenly became hyper aware of his breath on her skin.

Melody closed her eyes and swayed closer to deepen their kiss into something more carnal, but he was having none of it. One thumb pad travelled over her cheekbone softly as he suckled on her lower lip. He touched her with excruciating tenderness, seeming to revere every moment, every touch. By the time he released it she was trembling, lips tingling. Her heart thundered rapidly against her ribs, and she was as out of breath as if she had been running.

When no other kisses came – although he retained his hold, which was fortunate, as she might have fallen – she opened her eyes. He winked, then kissed along her jaw, up to her ear. “I want you to watch me do this to you,” he breathed, husky voice and warm breath sending delightful shudders through her body. “I want you,” he continued, tonguing her earlobe, “To realize what you are getting yourself into, you naughty little witch.”

Melody shuddered as he ran his tongue along her jaw lightly, blowing the warm air onto that dampness. He trailed the backs of his fingers down her neck to her shoulder, then down her arms. When he reached her hand, he twined their fingers together. His other hand pressed her mouth closer, and he slanted his lips over hers skillfully, silencing her moaned response.

Her soul shuddered inside her as he mastered her body. Always in charge, it felt rather special to have him so masterfully and gently caress her. His warm tongue delved her mouth, enticing her tongue to reciprocate. Never had she been kissed like this! He swept his tongue over the tops of her front teeth and she gently bit it, causing him to chuckle. What are you going to do now, she wondered, struggling to keep her eyes open. Despite having brought herself to orgasm only hours before, she once again felt stimulated, this time with a far more desperate edge.

He released her hand, shifting about so she was resting on his lap, facing away from the room. And yet unfortunately not close enough to feel his soft frontage, despite her subtly shifts to slide closer. He slid that warm palm up her flat stomach to the underside of her breasts, where he teased her nipples through the fabric. She gasped, and he chuckled again. “Hot little piece,” He grated, eyes half lidded.

Her skin felt alternately hot and cold, her breasts heavy for his touch. The witch was in ecstasy, and he hadn’t even removed her clothes or let her touch him! She glanced around to make sure Fen wasn’t around. She was taking this one upstairs with her! Mama time had great, but now, it was time to get her some some-some!

The dark face fell slightly. “Looking for your guard?”

Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
Chapter 6

If she had been able to see herself, she might have understood his disappointment with her glancing about. In the gloomy interior of the inn her pale skin nearly glowed. Her mass of curly hair, always exasperating to her, looked nearly as wild as her hungry eyes. And her hips gently rocked. Wanton witch!

“Yep,” Melody replied breathlessly. “Want to make sure he isn’t in the way.” His face brightened, and she hopped up from his lap. She sashayed to the base of the stairs, feeling giddy. When he remained seated, she looked over her shoulder at him saucily. This was happening, whether he knew it or not.

The halfling seemed taken aback, glancing over his shoulders reflexively before clapping his hat back on and following her. His gaze locked with hers as he mounted the stairs. Each step was planted firmly, causing his belly to ripple lightly under his tunic.

The witch bit her lip and tore her eyes away with difficulty to open her door. She rolled her eyes up in gratitude. Thank you for not coming back yet, Fen! That would have been rather awkward. She turned to look at her guest, who was paused in the doorway, hands gripping the frame. His face was inscrutable.

“Come in,” She coaxed, tugging him into the room. This was exactly what she needed – a nice tumble from a handsome guy to make her forget tomorrow. The man allowed her to draw him inside, watching her intently. He was utterly fetching – a mix of refinement and pudge, of danger and gentleness. And, for tonight, he was hers. Score!

His body was delightful – in the better light in the room, she could see that he had thick, powerful arms that were covered in softness. Even through his shirt, she could see it. And that same shirt clung slightly over his love handles, gently outlining softness both above and below the meridian on his back. On the front, the chub around his navel pressed into the fabric, outlining the hole. “What?”

Her answer was a wry smile and a kiss that had her grasping his wrists to stay upright. “Whooo-eee…” she murmured appreciatively. She played with the bottom of his tunic, nibbling at her lower lip excitedly. “Let’s get this off, shall we?” Beneath her fingers, his stomach seemed to recede from her touch, making her pout. He scooped her up and took her to the bed. She thought he would disrobe, but he didn’t. Instead, he drew off her boots and stockings, kissing the sensitive arches of her foot. They were uncomfortable anyway, being new.

“What are you doing?” Melody asked, distracted. She had never been with a Shiva before, though they were her favourite eye candy (weight factor excluded). This chubbier version was fantasy come to life! She supposed, given their longer lives, they naturally had all the time in the world for foreplay, but she was falling apart. The kisses below had been enough to get her ready – why was he delaying? Just get on with it already! But don’t stop… He was caressing her feet, her ankles and calves, making her purr with pleasure at the attention.

“Enjoying the view,” he answered hoarsely as he drew her skirt down with torturous slowness. His eyes roved her form, large hands with thin fingers ghosting her skin. Once he had worked them down her ass, he kissed every inch of skin that was exposed. His hat, unnoticed, had landed on the floor when she had slid her hands through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. Ignoring her entreaties to hurry he let the fabric puddle around her ankles while he kissed the sides and backs of her knees, his dexterous tongue lapping at the salty sweat, and occasionally pressing a long, sucking kiss to her flesh. This opportunity was too good to waste, or rush through.

Her nipples were so erect they actually were beginning to throb. He sighed with male satisfaction at seeing her flesh exposed. When that gaze fell to her panties, Melody let her legs fall open with a desperate moan. Yes, take it off! She begged silently, rolling her hips up so he could slide them down. Instead, he nuzzled the fabric with his nose, eyes half lidding again. He nipped at the fabric, tapping at her through the fabric, teasing her until she was wantonly rolling her sex into his hand. He hissed, and his body trembled.

Melody gazed at him over her own body as he languidly crawled up the bed. As the opening to his tunic gaped, she could see a little of that belly, making her reach for it blindly. Must touch…

“Ah, ah, ah,” the man admonished gently. “This is my time.” Disappointed and brutally angry from the day’s events, this was proving a most pleasurable distraction. He rarely received such blatant admiration, and felt a keen interest in the witch himself.

“Come ON,” Melody pleaded as he held her arms above her head. He pulled a scarf from his belt and tied her hands. Now a little frightened, she glanced at the ties. Abruptly, with a clarity that made her cringe, she realized she had a random stranger in her room, without any protection. No one other than Fen even knew she was here. And now she was bound. “Hey, uh, come on, let me touch you baaa…” her voice trailed off as his tummy rested on hers for a moment as he was finishing the ties. When it gently impacted her own stomach she hissed in a breath was so deliciously heavy, and moaned as it slipped down, right across her mound. She had to do this – she was about to explode into a million pieces, dust on the wind, if she didn’t get this show on the road. Her eyes snapped open. “Let me go. Stop being so evil.”

“You have no idea,” Handsome told her. “How evil I am.” He raked his hair back from his face, rubbing his face against her inner thigh.

A growl of displeasure rose as she gave a jerk of her wrists. She wanted to touch him! She’d tie HIM up and make him suffer! Let me go! She commanded, and the fabric obediently loosened. Sliding one leg between his hips, Melody flipped him so he was on his back.

The look on his face was priceless, and he scrambled back against the headboard – where his wrists were quickly captured by the bonds he had just tried to use on her. He clearly gave a command to release him, eyes narrowing.

Which she, of course, countermanded. At his look of disbelief, she grinned and hitched a shoulder. “Plant based fabric,” she whispered in explanation as she kissed him. “I win!”

“Don’t touch me,” he warned in a low tone, ears slanting back and down in displeasure.

Mm, those ears. “Not even here?” She queried innocently, leaning forward and flicking a piercing with her tongue. His ear quivered violently in response. “Oh,” she murmured, eyes intent as she clambered on his lap for better access. “Or here?” She took a page from his book, nuzzling her way from the base of his ear to the very tip, wetting with the tip of her tongue, and lightly blowing.

Both of his ears twitched wildly, and he exhaled a pent up breath explosively. “I am serious, witch. Hands off - do not touch me.”

“Sorry, all I got from that was ‘touch me – hands off’. Short attention span, you know?” Plus, his body was clearly aching for her touch. At this angle, his soft chest, though strong, slumped against his belly, which strained in the confines of his shirt. A shirt which was caught up on something behind him, making that v gape wide. When she eyed that expanse of tantalizing flesh, he bared his teeth, small fangs visible. Boo. Oh well. Looked like this was going right back to where she thought it was going to be anyway.

Hands off? No problem. Look ma, no hands! Leaning forward, she captured his lips with hers, spreading her knees for more contact with his lap. Beneath her, muscle and softness worked together to cushion her, and she wriggled experimentally. He growled in response, pupils blown wide, but he throbbed beneath her so strongly she could tell he liked it. “See? No hands!” She said, flipping her long hair over her shoulder as she lined up his cloth covered cock between her opening.

Handsome’s face looked confused, as if she had wacked him in the face with a board. His purple eyes nearly crossed in his skull as she began rocking her pelvis slightly. “Don’t…” he muttered, tongue tangling. “Don’t touch…” Whatever important message he was trying to relate – which she cared nothing about – died on his lips as she began to slide up and down on the underside of his member, still caught between his pants.

“Not touching nothing,” Melody grated in response, the pressure and friction between her legs increasing. Her mons bumped the softness of his belly as she rode near the tip, and it was like a kick in the stomach. Pleasure radiated across her body, and she felt herself dampen further, insides loosening in welcome. Sorry babe, she told herself. Not getting that tonight, it looks like. But we will make it worth your while…

He hissed in a breath, and then he tried to suck in. The witch could tell, because the soft warmth of his stomach was no longer reachable. So she lengthened her thrusts, until the tip of his cock bumped her through his pants, and the very edge of his gut fluttered against her. When he began to say something, she sighed. “Shut up, handsome,” she told him absently, putting a hand across his mouth, eyes still closed. “Let me do this…”

The halfling stared at her over her hand, mouth half parted in shock. It was like some forest deity had come down and alighted on his lap. There was something incredibly earthy and wholesome in her actions. She was so unlike the women who tried to move their bodies in ways to please men, who said the right things, and tempted. The opposite, in fact – she moved her body to please herself. The hand that was not covering his mouth was slowly caressing her side, squeezing her own chest, thumbing her own nipple until her head rolled. Instead of working to please him - she had told him to shut up! He wrenched at the bonds, cursing his choice of fabric, and nipped a finger covering his mouth. The saucy thing might be pleasuring herself, but she was making him afraid he would come in his pants like a mere boy.

She squealed and withdrew her fingers, but when he opened his mouth to berate her, she proffered him a nipple. He captured in his mouth, sucking. As the friction increased, he sucked harder, surprised when she leaned against his hold until it seemed the only thing holding her up. Despite his efforts to suck in, she still occasionally nudged his stomach, but did not seem perturbed by it. His pants where damp – he no longer knew from who, and the teasing pleasure of her warmth made him fearful he was about to find his own release, bound and still clothed as he was. He was already clenching, and he desperately tried to think of disgusting things to hold off from his orgasm.

“Shhh…” she said absently, head falling back. “Just let mama do what she’s gotta be doing…Don’t worry, I’ll make it good for you too…” The witch brought both hands up to caress her body in an explicit lap dance, hands sliding down her curves as she swayed. She began to breathe faster as her thrusts quickened, and when he hissed, ass clenching, she redoubled her efforts.

He felt himself spending, but from the rictus of ecstasy on her face, at least he was not alone. Her thrusts slowed, and she rested her head on his shoulder, sweat slicked body trembling. Shame replaced pleasure – really? A man of his age, doing this? Yet even as his body shuddered with aftershocks and sleepiness overtook him, he had the oddest urge to enfold her in his arms as he slept. Although the probability was low, maybe the connection they felt was –

“Thanks buddy,” the witch murmured, inhaling as she raised her head and cracked her neck. “That was exactly the itch I needed scratched.”

Wait – what?

She patted his shoulder and clambered off, stretching her back. “You can let him go now,” she told the cloth around his wrists absently, which immediately fell free. Cracking her jaw, she yawned, the events of the past few weeks finally catching up with her. “That was great,” she told him, casting a beatific smile over her shoulder as she clambered between the sheets. “When you are done just leave the door closed and unlocked.”

Those lilac eyes darkened ominously as his brows lowered and came together at this summary dismissal. “So you think you are just going to use me for your pleasure?” This evening was not going as he planned – and he hated that.

She wriggled to find comfort, turning to face the half Shiva still on her bed. “Oh, don’t get all uppity – you got your rocks off too, I felt it.” When his cheeks darkened, she giggled. “What else was I supposed to do, with no hands?”

“I was supposed to pleasure you!” he snapped, rising to his knees.

“And you did, very well,” she replied blithely. When he loomed over her, she freed her hands from the sheet to reach for him. “Oh, I can touch you then? I’ve been aching to touch you all night - ”

He jerked back.

She clicked her tongue. “Then I guess we are done, hun.”

He got to his feet, stomping to the door with no good grace, muttering the whole way. An incriminating damp spot was on his crotch, and he hitched at his pants with irritation. When he paused to swoop down to get his hat, she had the audacity to wolf whistle him from the bed. He whirled to face her, giving her his fiercest scowl.

She winked, biting her lip. “Bye, handsome,” she crooned, making a clawing gesture. “Come back soon!”


Xyantha Reborn

- Actually Very Tame!
Jul 23, 2014
Chapter 7

Dark brows furrowed above lilac eyes, and the lines between his brows deepening upon observing how petulant he looked. His body still felt pleasant, as if still warmed from a fire. Damn her. Upon returning to his cool chambers he had immediately bathed himself, telling himself he was washing off the distasteful experience. The day had been exhausting, and not without challenges, but to have it end in such humiliation..!

And yet…that witch…he could still see her curvy body writhing over his. With her hands had buried in her mass of brown curls, kissing their way down her breasts. The pale column of her neck, exposed as she cast her face to the ceiling. Her wonton moans…

One of his brothers lounged on a chair nearby, already clad in his formal wear. “You look tired, brother.” Vivid purple eyes set in the typically dark Shiva complexion roved over Fenri. “What have you been up to?”

If Dulog’s tone was suspicious, Fenri could not blame him. He was currently in a plot to murder him – and also busy avoiding his many brother’s attempts to assassinate him. And this was all on top of his search for his brother. The half Shiva sighed, then immediately straightened when he noticed the way his stomach pooched out. Habitually tightening his stomach muscles, he sneered and tugged the crisp collar straight. “None of your concern.”

His room felt odd with another in it. It was normally quiet empty – how Fenri enjoyed it. Cold, grey stone uniformly adored all the walls, arching into the ceiling smoothly. When walking, not even a carpet muffled his steps. In the main room was the fireplace, a good sized table, and a mirror. In his bedroom, his bed and a nightstand. Behind the headboard was the door to his laboratory, but to date, no one had noticed it. Probably because he maintained a second, well used space elsewhere.

The other’s light voice rung out with some asperity; “You are getting fat again,” was the tepid observation. His half sibling kicked a knee over the edge of the padded chair, yawning and displaying a full set of distinct, white fangs.

Unlike his own muted ones. Even the witch had not seem impressed when he bared them. “So you say.” Fenri drawled, his tone studiously bored and unaffected, belying the heat which rose to his cheeks. His brother was not wrong – the past few weeks of nail biting tension had resulted in him binging repeatedly. “I am part human, remember? Their build is different.” The man in front of him frowned again as memories of her rubbing her sex against him rose up, his flush burning darker at the memory of her inadvertently thrusting into his gut, despite his efforts to suck in.

Dulog cracked his neck, sneezed, and a knife whirled towards the other man.

The small knife hit a barrier and clattered harmlessly to the floor as the larger man again tugged at his shirt, wishing the current fashion did not reveal quite so much skin.

His brother did not comment on his latest failed attempt, but his pupils did dilate rapidly as he anticipated a counterattack. “Even for a human, you are getting pretty tubby, Tubby. Keep bloating up and you’ll never find a woman who wants to touch you, let alone a wife.”

Can I touch you? Her throaty words whispered over him, her luminous brown eyes alight over her pink cheeks. He flushed, wondering what it would have been like to let her touch him as she had wished. Would she have invited him to stay? It seemed like his dismissal had come after denying her. She did not seem like a woman to be denied.

A counterattack was the last thing on his mind. Dulog’s eyes darted as he remained on high alert, still anticipating retribution. Fenri’s attention was inwardly turned, however, and was far more pleasantly engaged. The cool air of the room seeped into the opening of his shirt, cooling his heated remembrances. It had not been his intention, to let her have the upper hand. The shock of being confined had given her an opening that, had it been one of his brothers, would have resulted in his heart being carved from his chest. Despite his best intentions to make the experience last, he had – what had she said? Ah yes, he had scratched her itch. And now his hands itched to feel her soft skin beneath them. Who would have imagined how soft it was, beneath her freckles.

“Are you ill?” The reflected gaze of Dulog’s eyes met his own. They were hard, just as with all his family, and nearly glowed with an internal fire. A trick of the light, to better see in the underground caverns – and also a dominance play.

Ill? No, but the thought of her freckles was getting him in a lather. Fenri turned from the mirror, eyes refocusing. “What? Why would you say that?” Her eyes, so soft, so brown. Yet sparkling with intelligence, mischief – and then lust. Her soft lashes had spread over her cheek, her little snub nose wrinkling as she chased her orgasm…

“Your face is all red.”

Yet another sign of his human heritage; his pale skin, pale eyes and fleshy form made him stand out like a fat albino in a school of sleek fish. He sighed, tugging on his jacket. “Go away, Dulog. I don’t have time to play games with you today.”

“Spoilsport.” His younger brother unfolded his length from the couch and sauntered from the room, hands in his pockets.

Closing the door, Fenri sighed deeply, resting his head against the stone. He was exhausted, and all he wanted to do was eat until he stopped thinking. Until pleasure met with pain, and he couldn’t remember his own name. The barren room echoed lightly as he stepped across to the mirror again, his brow knitting in consternation. He couldn’t understand why that witch had seemed so taken with him – and then used him thusly. His face heated again at the remembrance of hot friction, her soft moans filling the air as her skin shone with sweat.

He was clearly just a once night stand to her, so why couldn’t he get her out of his mind?

And why did he want to see what she would do to him, if he let her touch him?


He returned to the armour with a shudder, exhausted from forcing his consciousness out to roam the streets. No danger had drawn his notice. Though several children practicing spells in the back alleyway would probably have nightmares from his presence.

The suit of armour felt different, somehow. More…grounded. Before Melody had bound him to her, the very ground felt like it shrunk from him, and every step was like moving through quicksand. Now, there seemed a tentative sort of truce struck. In his glove, the little mirror buzzed, sending vibrations along all of the metal. Fishing it out, he stared down at it. Night had fallen, but with his supernatural vision, everything was still clear. From the houses in the distance, to each individual light within view. As people moved by windows, he could see their faces clearly.

It was such a simple little thing, he marvelled. Quite an ingenious way to communicate. Most communication spells were large, taking a huge amount of energy and sending out signals. This was…brilliantly simplistic, and nearly untraceable.

It was spelled in the way of every shopkeeper’s lantern – strength to repel breaks, and clarity to repel dirt. And the only other spell was a link – the same as the children he had interrupted were practicing. Just linking two together from a distance, like speaking through cups connected by a string. As he turned the red locket over and over in his hands, it opened.

“Melody, baby? Is that you?” the frantic voice blared out.

Shocked, he nearly lost his grip. It flipped up, and he snatched it back, freezing as the comely witch on the other side stared at him.

“You!” she exclaimed, blue eyes round. They quickly narrowed as she leaned towards him. “You better not have hurt my friend, squan.”

Her tone might have been threatening and full of disgust, but he could only stare, captivated by the light shining off of her yellow hair. As the subsequent stream of angry words washed over him, he couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like to meet her when he had been alive. Would his heart have pounded, his pulse raced? All he felt now was an overwhelming attention, as if she was the only light in a dark room.

“I will kill you all over again if you hurt her!”

Now there was an idea. He shook his head at last, realizing that he was staring dumbly.

“Oh. Seemingly mollified, the witch settled back, eyes alert, one forearm beneath her ample busom. That hand clutched the elbow of her other arm, of which hand she was currently biting her fingernails. “She is ok?”

He nodded. As well as could be, considering what was in store for her future. Regrettable, and yet necessary. He would say necessity was his master – but it was Melody.

The plump face on the other side of the mirror sucked on the end of one of her locks. Keen intelligence shone from her eyes, in the same way health and vigour shone from her apple-like cheeks. “Well…where is she?”

Too difficult to say without words. Rather than trying to make vague gestures, he looked back towards the town. He should start back – despite no notifications going off that she had left the inn, he did not trust that little bit of a female as far as he could throw her. He began to close the case.

“Wait!” When her – what had Melody called her? Giselle? - face reappeared, she peered at him, eyes searching his expression. “Did she…did she bind your soul again?” When he nodded, she nodded as well, face serious. “She must have really, really liked you, to take that risk…and the consequences.”

He shrugged. What else was he supposed to say to that? The annoying thing was as capricious as they came, and he highly suspected she might have acted differently on a different day. Liked him? She had not let his soul drift away, no. But like him? She had called him friend. Yes friendship was such a fleeting, human concept.

White teeth worried her plump bottom lip for several moments. “Well. Melody and I have a rule. Any friend of hers is a friend of mine. My name is Giselle. Though she calls me G, and I call her M.”

He touched his fingers to his head, inclining it respectfully. No sense annoying her at this juncture, he reasoned.

“Can you…talk at all?”

Not with her, he couldn’t. Only with his master, and apparently only when she was in his armour. She was not as savvy or aware as his last master, seemingly oblivious to most of life around her.

Giselle gnawed on her lower lip. “Fen – that’s what she calls you, right?” When he nodded again, she looked away. “Please don’t stop talking to me yet…” When she turned her face back, light glittered against the moisture gathered there. “It’s been almost a year since I’ve gotten to talk to another person other than M. And she is so busy – she can’t possibly know how lonely I am.”

Her voice ratcheted higher as she spoke, and he sat back down without noticing it, fascinated at her changeable expression. Why lonely? He tried to encompass the question in a single flick of his fingers, tilting his head in inquiry.

“Sorry,” she whispered, blotting her eyes with her fingertips. She laughed, a wet sound. “I never would have expected you would be the one I would talk to,” she admitted. “I guess Melody has told you that I am locked up in my tower for my…indiscretions.” A hand reached forward, the image rocked, and she turned the mirror so it encompassed the whole of her apartment.

He stilled, calculating the distance. A mere five hundred square feet? This was where she lived? Indiscretions?

She seemed to take his silence for an invitation to explain, because she wiped at her eyes, sniffed, and continued. “I kind of…slept around. A bit. A lot. Like, if I was a guy, I would have been called a stud, you know? But I am a girl, so somehow it isn’t acceptable.”

Human culture was so odd.

“I know, right? Anyway, I guess news got around somehow, and I was given the ultimatum either to settle down with this guy – ugh. Don’t get me started on him. Or else get locked in this tower. And since no one forces me to do anything I don’t want to – guess where I ended up? I mean, if the guy had been the least bit handsome, it would have been ok. But this guy was three times by age, a big old stick in the mud, and just…so boring.”

As she nattered on, he kept his gaze on her face, tracking her location through the link spell. It was quite a ways away, and he shed his armour to take flight. He crossed several towns, a small valley, and was looking at a mountain range in the distance before her voice brought him running back.

“Fen? Am I boring you? I guess I should let you go…”

Slamming so hard back into the suit that it rocked, he shook his head. Too far to travel quickly. He tapped his finger to the side of his head, then turned his hand sideways whirled his index finger in a clockwise motion.

“Are you sure?” Giselle blinked rapidly, swiping at her eyes. “I’m a mess right now. I wish you could talk,” she whispered.

Wishes and hope were for the living. Yet, he did not close the case and start back. Instead, his large hands cradled the small mirror closer to his face. For the first time in nearly a decade, he focused every ounce of attention on one thing.

Giselle’s eyes crinkled, and she blushed, tears drying on her cheeks. “So…what should we talk about? Do you like swimming?”

Inside the suit, the red light pulsed consistently. The cold heartbeat of the dead.


the bitchy one
Nov 26, 2010
Every time you write something new I'm in awe of your imagination and skills. This is wonderful so far!


Dimensions' loiterer
Sep 29, 2005
The great white north, eh?
Dear Xyantha's bosses: Xy has been working very hard, and you should give her a couple of bonus days off to write stuff for us, errr, I mean to relax and recharge.

Signed: her adoring readers

Think that would work?