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Entry tags:
- !event,
- arcane: silco,
- arknights: gavial,
- black butler: sebastian michaelis,
- divinity original sin: fane,
- elder scrolls (the): voryn dagoth,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fate/: gray,
- fate/: quetzalcoatl,
- fate/: rin tohsaka,
- final fantasy xiv: cid garlond,
- fire emblem: byleth eisner,
- fire emblem: claude von riegan,
- fire emblem: dimitri a. blaiddyd,
- fire emblem: shez,
- fire emblem: yuri leclerc,
- forgotten realms: raphael,
- genshin impact: tartaglia (childe),
- granblue fantasy: eustace,
- haikyuu!!: atsumu miya,
- htwmho: rudbeckia de borgia,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): link,
- legend of zelda (the): midna,
- locked tomb (the): john gaius,
- marvel: nebula,
- oc: liem talbott,
- practical guide to evil: akua sahelian,
- reverse 1999: regulus,
- vampire hunter d: d,
- zone-00: kiritsubo
NOVEMBER EVENT | THE HARBINGER ORACLE
HEDGING YOUR BETS
Bearers feel it. Similar to when the Scorching Isles was opened, there is the same tug, from somewhere in the distance. Those who are in springstar feel it from closer, like a blossom of warmth in your heart, you feel the Oracle spring to life. Those in Highstorm feel it too, but distant. Far away. You remember Cyrus’s words, that it would come to life in Springstar, and you know, just from the relative distance, from how far away it feels – He was probably right.
So bearers must make their way to the center of Springstar’s residential district. Finding one’s way to Springstar will be difficult, in fact. Preparations have been underway since Cyrus’s announcement, and Springstar leaps into action. The Legionnaires are already marching by the time the first bearers start moving throughout the city. In addition to any of Meridian’s own preparations, the Legionnaires establish choke points and start organizing evacuations. It will be difficult to make your way through Springstar, but the closer bearers make it to the hedge maze, and what seems to be the oracle at the center, the warmer their chests feel. Throughout the city, it feels warm, like small wicks of heat. The closer bearers become, the more it feels like a torrent. It is burning them to their center and igniting them to their cores. Like the fire of drive, is what it feels like. Like the hunger for something more than just food, or anything else, like the anticipation of victory.
The maze itself is where it is the most intense as bearers start to make their way through the hedge maze. Vines and brambles lie within a neat hedge, and it looks like it is safe to jump, or scale, but the moment a bearer tries to jump it, cut through it, or even go beneath it, roots, brambles, and vines lash out to entrap bearers, and start to drag them down and into the hedges. You will have to figure out a way out – lest you be stuck for seemingly the near future.
Of course, when Dimitri’s hand touches the stone statue in the middle, it all goes dark, and wherever you were, whoever you were fighting –
Every bearer collapses at the same time.
So bearers must make their way to the center of Springstar’s residential district. Finding one’s way to Springstar will be difficult, in fact. Preparations have been underway since Cyrus’s announcement, and Springstar leaps into action. The Legionnaires are already marching by the time the first bearers start moving throughout the city. In addition to any of Meridian’s own preparations, the Legionnaires establish choke points and start organizing evacuations. It will be difficult to make your way through Springstar, but the closer bearers make it to the hedge maze, and what seems to be the oracle at the center, the warmer their chests feel. Throughout the city, it feels warm, like small wicks of heat. The closer bearers become, the more it feels like a torrent. It is burning them to their center and igniting them to their cores. Like the fire of drive, is what it feels like. Like the hunger for something more than just food, or anything else, like the anticipation of victory.
The maze itself is where it is the most intense as bearers start to make their way through the hedge maze. Vines and brambles lie within a neat hedge, and it looks like it is safe to jump, or scale, but the moment a bearer tries to jump it, cut through it, or even go beneath it, roots, brambles, and vines lash out to entrap bearers, and start to drag them down and into the hedges. You will have to figure out a way out – lest you be stuck for seemingly the near future.
Of course, when Dimitri’s hand touches the stone statue in the middle, it all goes dark, and wherever you were, whoever you were fighting –
Every bearer collapses at the same time.
YOU'D BETTER BE A-MAZE-ING!
In the dark, there is that fiery impression of the Harbinger. Competition, drive, disdain for even those that best them. It is clear, in the dark, with your eyes closed, that the Harbinger does not see the Bearers as worthy to obtain it. You feel ghostly hands on your mind, into you, as if it is delving for more, trying to pluck and pull out the right memory. It looks for victories, triumphs, defeats, or betrayals. Something that shows the mettle of the bearer, what it is looking for. When it finds what it is looking for – or is this just a dream? – after the bearer experiences the dream, they will get the distinct impression that it is not enough. That the Harbinger wants more. It wants to see what this bearer can do. It wants to see you rise to the challenge, bearer! Will you do as it wishes, and show it the scope of your mettle, or will you capitulate and let the Harbinger know that it was right – you aren’t enough?
The Harbinger wants you to prove them wrong. Can you do that? Will you use spite to convince it that it is wrong? The Harbinger at the center of this labyrinth imparts to bearers, that it will not allow the weak to succeed, that nobody who cannot reach it, would ever be able to protect them. They look down on bearers, and it is up to you, to convince them that you are worth their attention.
When bearers wake, they will be stuck in a foyer. The walls seem blank, and there is a door, leading further into the maze. It is not… fully dark, everything here seems to be lit just enough to move around without trouble, but it is not bright. Bearers can look left, and right, and see others beside them. They are not alone, but nor are they with others of their faction. No, you can feel it, between all of you, gathered here in one space. The humming of your shared aspect fills the room, as if all of you together in one space feels right.
You will not be able to stay. The foyer lasts only until the last person leaves, and if any try to stay behind and stationary, they will find that eventually a door appears, and the room begins to shrink. You had better get moving!
You must move further into the maze. You will find that grouping up for long periods of time becomes impossible, and moving from one door to the next can find foes, allies, or even neutral parties. Every door you open within this maze, leads to new and unusual locations. You may both walk in, from opposite ends, only to find that the doors are gone when you turn your back. Do you end up on a precarious path over spikes, lava, or even water? Do you walk into a room with your greatest desire, a hunger that can now never be sated? Will you do anything to find your way through the corridors? Will bearers help each other, and resist the call of the Harbinger, or will you push over even your treasured ones to win?
The Harbinger wants you to prove them wrong. Can you do that? Will you use spite to convince it that it is wrong? The Harbinger at the center of this labyrinth imparts to bearers, that it will not allow the weak to succeed, that nobody who cannot reach it, would ever be able to protect them. They look down on bearers, and it is up to you, to convince them that you are worth their attention.
When bearers wake, they will be stuck in a foyer. The walls seem blank, and there is a door, leading further into the maze. It is not… fully dark, everything here seems to be lit just enough to move around without trouble, but it is not bright. Bearers can look left, and right, and see others beside them. They are not alone, but nor are they with others of their faction. No, you can feel it, between all of you, gathered here in one space. The humming of your shared aspect fills the room, as if all of you together in one space feels right.
You will not be able to stay. The foyer lasts only until the last person leaves, and if any try to stay behind and stationary, they will find that eventually a door appears, and the room begins to shrink. You had better get moving!
You must move further into the maze. You will find that grouping up for long periods of time becomes impossible, and moving from one door to the next can find foes, allies, or even neutral parties. Every door you open within this maze, leads to new and unusual locations. You may both walk in, from opposite ends, only to find that the doors are gone when you turn your back. Do you end up on a precarious path over spikes, lava, or even water? Do you walk into a room with your greatest desire, a hunger that can now never be sated? Will you do anything to find your way through the corridors? Will bearers help each other, and resist the call of the Harbinger, or will you push over even your treasured ones to win?
MADE IN THE SHADE
And even further in, as you start to catch sight of them, patches of darkness seep into the corners, into everything. They may be hidden, at first. They may lurk underneath patches of leaves, or in shadowed corners. But the longer bearers are within this labyrinth, the longer the shadows seem. They start to reach out, to pull bearers into their shadowy depths. You may feel malaise, or an unwillingness to continue, once you first step within these patches. The longer you are there, the harder it is to get out. You will need help from your friends or dear ones, or sheer strength of will – but can you fight on, as you start to lose the things that motivate you?
And then there are the visions. People you know, love, or trust, they round corners, just ahead. They seem just out of range, and at first, it is difficult to tell if they are there or not. But they happen to reappear, and then disappear around a corner. Try and chase them, if you dare. When your fingers touch their arm, or grab their clothing, or heaven forbid, if you pull them into a hug – it seems impossible to pull away. They were treasured, weren’t they? There is a reason they appear here, to you. Why would you want to pull them away? Why would you –
They reach out, their fingers seem long, as they reach toward your shard – they will not be deterred by clothing or armor, their fingers seem to bend and twist around the junctions – before they find purchase on your shard. They rip it from you, and it feels like you are being separated from something. It’s painful, it hurts, but the last thing you see, as they hold your shard in your hand, is someone you care very deeply for, placing the shard in the same place on their own body, and your own face smiles back at you, and it all goes black. You are gone. Into… nothing.
And then there are the visions. People you know, love, or trust, they round corners, just ahead. They seem just out of range, and at first, it is difficult to tell if they are there or not. But they happen to reappear, and then disappear around a corner. Try and chase them, if you dare. When your fingers touch their arm, or grab their clothing, or heaven forbid, if you pull them into a hug – it seems impossible to pull away. They were treasured, weren’t they? There is a reason they appear here, to you. Why would you want to pull them away? Why would you –
They reach out, their fingers seem long, as they reach toward your shard – they will not be deterred by clothing or armor, their fingers seem to bend and twist around the junctions – before they find purchase on your shard. They rip it from you, and it feels like you are being separated from something. It’s painful, it hurts, but the last thing you see, as they hold your shard in your hand, is someone you care very deeply for, placing the shard in the same place on their own body, and your own face smiles back at you, and it all goes black. You are gone. Into… nothing.
NOTES
Here are some prompts to set the scene and foundation of the Exalt Oracle! Please refer to the ooc post for more details about what’s happening in the labyrinth! Feel free to direct questions here.
If your character gets killed by a shadow-copy, please let us know in the reporting post that goes up on November 20th if they touch the effigy. If they do not, please let us know on the deaths page! Don't forget to report any dissipations as a whole! Please also let us know if your character is saved by another bearer, or if your character’s shard is taken by the shadow copy for the entire duration of the event. This will not result in any permadeath, but you might get some cool lore! Teehee! If your character defeats a shadow creature, please let us know [HERE]
If your character gets killed by a shadow-copy, please let us know in the reporting post that goes up on November 20th if they touch the effigy. If they do not, please let us know on the deaths page! Don't forget to report any dissipations as a whole! Please also let us know if your character is saved by another bearer, or if your character’s shard is taken by the shadow copy for the entire duration of the event. This will not result in any permadeath, but you might get some cool lore! Teehee! If your character defeats a shadow creature, please let us know [HERE]
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To Akua, to Set... She supposes it was different, though she certainly never had dared to ask. She hadn't even been able to speak to them the next morning, slipping away as the sun rose like a secret lover in the stories. But they... they were familiar with hedonism in ways she had never been allowed to be, never even known how to conceive. She would not be surprised if they were more than experienced in... coming together in such a way. Such things were likely relatively normal for them. Perhaps, she sometimes thought, with a strange and unidentifiable sort of feeling she wasn't willing or even that capable to explore... Perhaps it had just been a passingly pleasurable night of charity.
But to her it had been everything. Proof that the day after doing something she had always been taught would ruin her that the sun would still rise and find her mostly the same person. An unbinding, throwing away the precious thing she had protected for so long just for the sake of honor and coins in the hand of the man that had bred, raised, and owned her. Lessons she would never have learned or even had anyone to ask for, in the pleasure a woman was capable of receiving if she allowed it, of giving if given freely. Understanding that her experiences, the unwilling mount of a stud in the breeding stall or the sullen opening of a mouth at the whim of a human master, those weren't... those weren't the only realistic options for her any longer.
Realization that no matter how she tried not to, how she feared it would open her up to more hurt, more disappointment... She wanted it. Shamefully craved it. The warm embrace of arms that seemed to want to hold her close. The soft press of lips belonging to someone that cared for her, that would whisper calming or rousing things into her ear. The hot, coiling pulse of having someone to sate her heats so that she didn't need to suffer alone. Perhaps even more importantly having someone that... that even when she wasn't in heat might...
What she had now, even though it was hidden and guarded like a guilty secret... She wouldn't have it if she had not had that night.]
Ah... It is. It's important...
[Akua had urged her to take, to make known her desires, to speak, to act, and even though Hayame tries to convince herself that she wasn't hungry, she wasn't thrumming with need, they had to think about the Oracle... Before she even realizes what she's doing, one of her hands moves in mirror to the other woman's and brushes over the burgundy lace that half-covered dark skin. Akua always wore... such impractical, fancy garments. It is so soft, so delicate, she is just appraising the textile that is all, her fingers finding the place at the sides where the dress was simply open to bare flesh, (that, too, there were always... always parts missing...), slipping inside around that edge to rub the lace between her fingers-
And Akua will find that the dun hair she smooths her palm along is softer, thicker than it was during the Exalt Oracle's trial. Winter was coming to Alenroux, and Hayame's winter coat is beginning to grow in. Her hide trembles and twitches in response to the slightest of touch along the path of touch, and her tail twitches. The one visible eye that had been so sullen and hateful when the sorceress had come to call to inspect the sickly green orb beneath her eyepatch is dazed with longing. She swallows, knowing if there was just some sort of excuse, just enough of one-]
... Just a short time... ?
[Of course. Naturally. Surely?]
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[ She breathed, with a soft smile, breath that slipped from between her lips. Hayame's hands were always so warm, and so strong, with calluses and strength that she knew came from her long hours and years of training. Akua had often found that those who honed their bodies were... pleasing to look at. The way they were hewn, and carved, like living weapons that could cut too close if one were not careful with them.
Akua had no intention of being clumsy with Hayame, but she knew that the blade of the jinba cut every way possible. The woman had different thoughts and a different... logic than the average Praesi. While Akua would smile and tease an enemy, especially a bitter rival who pushed her harder and harder, Hayame did not feel the same. Were she to have Sebastian's attention in the way Hayame did, she would use that to her advantage, and sharpen the demon's iron as well as hers.
No, Hayame was like an axe, instead of blades of iron against one another. An axe that cut down, instead of strengthened. Enemies and Rivals were not to be hewn, but eliminated, and she understood that Hayame saw all that were her opponent as simply that. Just as Akua would cut down those beneath her, Hayame would too. All who did not agree were her enemies.
She felt it a difficult balance that she walked, though the longer they were in here, in this room, the longer she found it more difficult to think upon. She instead drug her fingers against Hayame's withers, before she sat on the seat made for her, and gestured toward the large, soft rug at her feet. To allow Hayame space to be close to her. Even, should she take it. ]
We cannot dally, but there is no reason to push ourselves beyond our limits. We must rest, and I would much rather rest with someone I know.
[ She does not use the word trust, and whether it is an omission or simply not in her vocabulary, it is difficult to say. ]
Allow me to help you find relaxation, at least for a time here.
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Hayame's dun legs fold beneath her so that she might lumber down to her belly in front of the other woman, the low seat evening out their heights. Though there is hesitation, because... even with someone she cared for, even with someone she trusted, she remains somewhat reserved (repressed), always slightly afraid of touch because she had always been, always needed to shun it to preserve her reputation and advance herself... her forearms come to rest folded on Akua's thighs. She just has to be... close-]
I cannot relax...
[She seems to try to. Her upper spine curls, she lays her head on the pillow of her arms in Akua's lap, the swell of her breasts pressed against the side of a dark calf. The damn... the long dress is in her way, if Akua was wearing pants there would be... like Set had, she could easily get between-
A low half-whine is nearly swallowed down, but only nearly. Her tail, hitched high like it had been then, like it was every damn month, swishes in frustration over the curve of her muscular rump, her back legs squirming slightly, hooves clacking against each other. If she were back in Alenroux, she could... she could take care of it, with that person, but here...]
Not like this...
[If she closed her eye(s) would she be able to trick the both of them into thinking she is going to take a nap? She tries it... but in the dark Akua's scent is so captivating, so feminine but so sharp. It makes her nuzzle uselessly into her "pillow", her fingers curling and fisting in delicate lace as she murmurs,]
You know that...
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Relaxation does not always mean sleep. [ She said, in lieu of further laughter. Her fingers drew to brush her bangs from her face, a thumb that grazed against her cheek, and she let her fingers stroke a few times, almost as if she were trying to soothe the Jinba.
In a way, of course, she was. Hayame was so much like that first time, the way she was practically squirming and crying with need, there was no mistaking the similarities from this to the woman whom she'd helped soothe that night with Set. She would not be able to fully soothe her needs — well, not without some very clever applications of her magic — but she could remind her of how she could soothe it, and help her alleviate the heat between both of their lower reaches.
She felt it too, after all. She could control herself more, for humans did not have the cycles Jinba had, but that did not mean that she would not fall just as fully into it. It just meant she had the mind for initiative. She leaned down, instead of allowing Hayame to wait for so long, instead of forcing her to suffer the indignity of whining and kicking any longer. She knew if it were her, she would hate to have anyone see her like this. She knew Hayame would hate it worse. ]
Look at me, let me help you.
[ She does not command, but she does not ask. She states it, as she leaned forward, to find Hayame's lips, if she gave her the gift of her gaze. ]
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[Relaxing. Hayame almost says that such things are not relaxing at all... but the words trail off before she can finish them. Not just because she imagines that, for different people, for people like Akua maybe it was, but because... Not at first, no, she had been far too desperate with the potent mix of discord and heat when she had arrived at that house in Springstar almost genuinely convinced that she really was just going to ask for help purifying her shard... But later in the night (earlier in the morning), after Set had made use of borrowing the form of a jinba to sate the more pressing, instinctual needs of a mare in heat to be mounted and bred... in the absence of that more primitive, high-strung hunger... she had been able to lose herself slightly in the warmth and the hazy wind of pleasure. Before sneaking away before the dawn, as shame and confusion returned to her... She had thought it. How peaceful and languid the two of them had looked in the content rest of an evening spent... like that.
So maybe she cannot finish saying it. That it would not be relaxing. It wasn't just them anymore, either. Some nights, now, she... That person, they were... they always seemed at ease and so comfortable compared to her. If it would turn the pulsing need in her body that felt similar to heat into something else... Hayame finds that she is turning her face slightly into the passing stroke of the other woman's fingers, that even just that... feels electric. The stiff hair of her vestigial mane seems to stand up, along with the fine strands at the back of her neck beneath the heavy fall of her ponytail.
And when that sultry, confident voice bids her to look up, to accept her aid... Hayame wants to. Even knowing what might happen if she did, knowing that she should have more control of herself than this, that she should be thinking of the Oracle more than this, that she should be more loyal than this, even if that person had told her... told her that she was free to let her hair down in front of whoever she chose...]
Akua, I shouldn't-
["I" shouldn't, not "we"... ? Did the word choice matter? Maybe not, when it meant that Hayame raised her head. Akua is one of the few people in this world who has seen what is now hidden behind the leather patch on the left side of her face, who could imagine that hungry, desire-clouded look in her stormy gray eye mirrored in one of sickly green. She is one of the even fewer people who knew what Hayame's lips tasted like.
And as their lips meet, as Hayame's fingers curl tightly into the burgundy lace of the other woman's dress and a low, wanting sound slides up her throat... she is perhaps the only person who now knew that Hayame seemed to kiss far better than she used to.]
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Her lips curl slightly, as she kissed Hayame, her lips appreciative of the new changes. Her lips move from the corner of her mouth, to deepening it, her tongue and lips asking for permission to move deeper, to taste more of her.
She wonders, how creative Hayame would allow her to be? She may not be Set, or whomever her newest lover is, but Hayame should know that Akua Sahelian was creative and would not allow Hayame to leave here unsatisfied. She would not allow that of the Jinba, and her fingers stroked from her face, to along her neck, and even to that space at the back of her neck, where the hair stood on end, and her fingers drug across it, a hint of nail and sharpness, but welcoming, as if she were asking, implying that Hayame should feel free to take. ]
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And he, that day, had made it sound like… like he wouldn’t condemn her if she fell prey to instincts or need, and if that were true-
Her kisses grow deep. Permission is granted. Her body curves in to the other woman’s because it remembers all too well what pleasure her hands could deliver, spine arching, forelegs curling, tail flicking behind her. Her fingers slide along the lace, then down, trying to find the hem, a frustrated sound slipping from one tongue to another before, in the scant space between lips when the next breath was required, she mutters a small, toothless complaint,]
Why do you always wear such complicated things… ?
[She was wearing the same old robe, crossed across the chest above the simple underlayer and tight breast bindings. … Bindings that she really wishes were looser, now, as she finds herself more in want of air than she ever somehow felt in battle or a dead gallop.]
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Because it's better to anticipate, dear heart.
The more you struggle, the more needy you become, and the more needy you become, why... the better it is. For the both of us.
[ She doesn't say it like it's obvious, but she does say it like it's normal (it isn't) but her fingers do start to play with the tie on her robe, and she starts to untie it. Her lips move forward again, a momentary reprieve something she can't indulge in longer, because her own hunger is bubbling like heat in her belly, like hunger for power and acclaim, it's all the same emotion for a Praesi. They hunger for everything they can get their greedy hands on, and Hayame is her target now. ]
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Maybe anticipation explains why her auxiliary heart can be felt pounding in her upper chest when the other woman's fingers slide along the panels of her robe where they cross, when they seek out the simple tie and begin to work on the knot. She finds herself shivering, spine arching to offer more, to make it easier, and oh- She finds the hem, too. Her hands slip under the dress, slowly running up dark calves, over the curve of knees, onto almost impossibly silky thighs and taking the burgundy lace bunching up around her wrists with her.]
Have... Have you not seen enough of me needy... ?
[But even as she asks, her cheeks flushed with the fluster that comes from discussing intimacies out loud that apparently even more experience(?) has not changed in her, Hayame thinks... Probably "no". Maybe, Akua is the sort of woman never to be satisfied with her partner not feeling that way towards her.]
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Dear heart, you should know, there is never enough of such a sight.
[ She speaks true, because Hayame has always been so stubborn, so stalwart, and so... driven, that even momentary distractions feel like small victories. Like even the little things to pull Hayame to tip her head toward her instead of their goals, is a small win. For even though they would have to return, and even though Akua knew that...
It was nice, to see her find indulgence, when she was normally so restrained in her needs. ]
I hope you won't try to hide it from me. [ Her leg practically quivered under Hayame's large, strong hand, and she shifted, to allow Hayame as much purchase as she liked, even as her hands tried to slide between the folds of her robe, and her (likely) bound chest, as if she wanted to feel the heat of her body against her fingers. ]
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But never across this field. This field she'd always been kept ignorant of, and though she had finally waded into it... she had yet to feel she had mastered that role in it. Not yet. The body she was so proud of but for its sex became a liability- it was meant to be mounted, and when paired with much smaller humans... so quickly they left the reach of her arms, and then what- What is she supposed to do?
She stares into Akua's golden eyes with one that is stormy grey and one that is hidden in shame, arrested by the prick of teeth on her bottom lip, pliant as the other woman pulls the tie away, as the air stills in her lungs, hearts pounding. The feel of thighs quivering brings her back, though, reminds her... That the lessons she learned that night had not gone to waste. She had... done things, since then. Not... with another woman, no, but-]
I am not hiding...
[She disliked how it sounded, that word, nipping in frustration after the painted lips that had captured hers, her fingers sliding further up those tantalizing dark thighs.]
I am just... I am not like you...
[What is? Things blur in her hunger, between thinking of whether she is hiding her neediness from Akua or hiding her intimacies from the eyes of others. But she can't hide much, when her spine arches wantonly to press her bound breasts into the other woman's hands, shifting enough to try and brush the knot beneath questing fingertips just as her own find... warmth. More warmth and more lace.]
It's for the best...
[Her tongue slides over the shallow indents in her lip and she bites into it herself as she hesitates... and then surges forward despite, four fingers moving up over the thin fabric to rest over Akua's nethers, her thumb left free to press against the lace and slowly, firmly rub up and down the line where she can feel softer lips part.]
no subject
She didn't hesitate then, in retaliation or perhaps spurred on by Hayame's enthusiastic fondling. Her fingers made quick work of the knot that held Hayame's bindings together, and she tugged at it, trying to expose flesh and to slip her fingers beneath the cloth, to find warm skin, and to cup the fullness of her there. Her body easily accepted Hayame, and she leaned her body closer to her, if just to have a little bit more of her, to accept and enjoy this for a bit longer. ]
Yes, because I do not know if I would enjoy the surprises you offer me, were I to expect them.
[ She liked it, her voice said, though it was breathy and warm. Heat flushed down from her head to between her thighs, and it does not take long, for it to feel warm, and slightly damp with her enthusiasm for Hayame's touch. ]
no subject
She had... been fascinated, watching how pleased Akua had looked when Set had delved between her thighs. And when she finally found the courage to take and have for herself, with no Discord, no heat as an excuse... she had felt... felt proud, and strangely good, when that man had moaned and she had known it was because of her. Because of what she was doing to him. So when Akua arches and flushes...
Hayame bites into her lip to muffle a whimper of her own desire, her back legs twisting anxiously on the floor and her tail whipping uselessly behind her. It was so unfair... if they were both the same shape... But they weren't, none of the shard-bearers were. She tells herself to just be content with this. To release a deep, shaky exhale as the other woman frees her from the tight bindings around her chest and the fullness of the womanhood she always denied fell soft and full into her warm hands. It wouldn't be enough but... it was fine, she didn't... she shouldn't anyway...]
It's not... not that much of a surprise...
[It sounds almost petulant, that protest, and she does dislike the whine in her voice so, but everything is getting hotter, hazier, softer, looser...]
I have...
[Someone. She has someone. She has done things... learned things...
Enough to press her lips along the line of Akua's throat, sharp teeth pricking noticeably but not painfully into her skin in contrast to the softness of her mouth and tongue. Enough to swirl her thumb in firm, rousing circles into the damp patch she feels growing on that lacy excuse for undergarments.]
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As if in revenge, or perhaps more accurately, because she knew Hayame would like it, her fingers moved toward her breasts, so often held and bound tightly, as if they were an offense, but Akua wanted to show her that they could be worshiped. Her fingers brushed lightly against the flesh of her, before her thumbs grazed her stiffening nipples, and she shrugged to give Hayame more exposure to her throat and shoulders, should she want to lavish her with more. ]
You're perfect Hayame, do not fret.
[ She murmured, because she seemed so... defensive, and Akua could only express her pleasure in the way she moved, the way she writhed, and the way she spoke. ]
I will not leave you unsatisfied.
[ She promised, and she meant it. Hayame would not leave here with hunger, should she have any say in it. ]
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And in the wake of her failures at that masked ball to be rid of the "flower price" her master would reap from the years he had kept her untouched, the shame of one panicked retreat and the sting of one instinctive recoil the second her mask had slipped and revealed to her prospective partner that she was not a human with two legs... Akua had been the one to prove her wrong.
And she had... so much now. What felt like so much. She had learned a desperate lesson in how to take without losing from two of the best. She'd taken that lesson and shared a kiss that might just have been sacred, with someone who had understood her needs and for month after month weathered every unreasonable demand, passed every test, kept every secret as she asked, and eventually forced her to accept that maybe... Maybe he really did love her. And the fact that she had even let him try to prove it, that she had not turned him away, that she had given him her trust (her body) without a single excuse of heat or discord meant that maybe... maybe she-
"Perfect". She has heard it before. Even if she couldn't fully believe it when that man had said it, still could not fully believe it now... It has a similar affect. Her hearts tighten and her breath comes quick, longing to be half worthy of the word and desperate enough to wish to prove it the only way she knew how. She had always been better at action than with words... even as words still slip out.]
I shouldn't...
[The same line, completely unconvincing when delivered with a needy whine and her breath hot and shallow along the line of Akua's throat. She keeps trying to say why, but she can never seem to get out the actual reason, because the actual reason... would be an end to all this, and she doesn't... Not now, not yet, not while the hunger of this room has such a hold on her. She remembers why she has to leave this place, she knows they cannot stay long, she refuses to be beaten in that way, but... just a taste? Just... just a little...]
Akua... I should... n'....
[So why is she forgetting to finish the word, kissing down Akua's throat to the new flesh that has been bared in invitation for her, teeth practiced in pricking but not breaking skin leaving little indents where she begins to trace the line of a well-shaped collarbone with tongue and fangs? Perhaps because she always bound them away so tightly, perhaps just because of the womanhood they represented, Hayame was so very aware of the slightest touch at her breasts. Her nipples tighten to sensitive points at the gentle graze of fingertips and she all but pleads for more teasing if she cannot yet have satisfaction by pressing the unbound swell into the other woman's hands, auxiliary heart pounding beneath.
And she wonders if that flimsy lace felt good, dampening with arousal and the scent of sex that her sensitive nose could pick up a mile away. Was it more rousing than just Set's lips, just Hayame's fingers, just whatever Akua's other lovers she does not want to think about do? She has to pull the garment to the side in order to slip inside, two middle fingers with nails clipped to the quick easing in to the wet clutch slow and purposeful, curling and winnowing in deeper in search of that place she'd once watched make the other woman cry out. But the lace... she doesn't pull it all the way aside. She keeps the other woman half covered in it, so that the delicate texture of its artfully woven threads can catch and slide against Akua's clit with each wanton circle that she rubs.]
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Gods below she had gotten bolder. Akua doesn't know how to describe what it is, to see her blossom and be guided to a place where she accepted herself, and accepted what she needed, and took it. Perhaps she would not get what she needed from doing this with Akua, but she liked it, and that made it better for the Praesi as well. Her mouth opened with a soft gasp, a slight low moan. She would not stop, though, Hayame deserved pleasure too, even as she Gave.
Her fingers returned to their slow motions, though now punctuated from gentle scrapes to ministrations on her hardening peaks, gentle pinches that played with tension, finding what would work for Hayame, what would make her moan, or twitch. Her golden eyes were open, though hazy, and her lips curled as she watched her, her head tipped downward as Hayame focused on her collarbone, and the lace brushed against her clit. She moaned, the deliberateness of it was... astounding, and she could feel the flush on her cheeks, and the lace of her dress elsewhere tugged, and made her feel —
Ah — it was good, and one of her fingers drew away from her breast to arch, and drag against the air.
Which would seem odd, if it were not for the fact that a ghost of a touch brushed against Hayame's flank, teasing, promising. ]
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And the hunger is just so strong.
In public she still shirked and flustered, judgemental over what she viewed as wanton excess and shameful dereliction of duty, but in private she has become able to do such things as this. To moan anxiously (but not as anxiously as she once had been) as Akua's fingertips tested exactly what made her squirm. As tough and strong as she was in battle... it seemed that Hayame was far more delicate in this field, shying away from the harsher of pinches but quivering into gentler rubs and teasing flicks. And all the while-
She can do this. She had watched. She had learned. And once Set had used his shapeshifting abilities to help take the edge off her heat, she had actually been able to try herself. Like she does now, but bolder, stroking at eager nerves over damp lace, scissoring her fingers deeper... but then her motions stutter in surprise, suddenly, her face rising from Akua's collarbone to look up at the other woman in lust-addled confusion, lips a touch swollen from kissing half parted with a question pooling on her tongue. She had felt-
How had she felt Akua's hand stroking along her flank? Was it magic... ? (And shamefully, her mind thinks, despite her usual distaste for magic she did not understand... If it can stroke along her flank...)]
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Though it was mottled from the haze of taking her pleasure, it was self-satisfied as well, for it was invigorating to surprise Hayame with this. ]
Do you wish me to?
[ She asked, her tone warm with mischief, as if she knew how naughty the suggestion could be, and it drifted closer, the ghost of a touch brushing against the hairs of her skirt, before they rubbed at the inside of her back thighs, suggesting that there could be something else found, if she gave her permission. Even now, Akua approached her gently, as if she were gently coaxing out the hungry part of her that she knew existed. ]
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If Akua wanted her surprised... She would have it. And if she wanted her hungry side revealed...]
Ah...
[It is not quite an answer, that long, wavering sigh of want, and she knows it. Still tries it, yes, but it ends in an anxious swallow as she feels the phantom sensation trace down her flank, over her rump, and along the dark backs of her twitching thighs. If it just moved up, if it just moved in... if she just said-]
Yes...
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Her mouth curled, and she leaned forward, to press a lingering kiss against the side of Hayame's mouth, warm, and chaste, were it not for what they were doing. ]
Your wish is my command, dear heart.
[ She says, before the phantom fingers trail closer before they find her, and brush first against the soft lips that cover her entrance, slipping along the inside, experimenting, and feeling it out. It's exploratory, at first — nearly clinical — but it is only a moment before Akua's invisible fingers twitch, and they brush against her swollen clit, and she leans down to plant her lips to her neck next, her other fingers still rubbing gently against her nipple, planting sensations, against her skin. She wanted to drive her wild. ]
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Her hearts pound, and both sets of lungs freeze in her chests as her face tips into the chaste kiss. Her lips part for soft pant of need... which becomes a whimper whine of pleasure as somehow, somehow, (magic) Akua touches her, her (her?) hand whispering over the velvet soft skin of her nethers and the sensitive swell of exposed nerve. Her own fingers splay and press as she arches into the touch, squirming as the light, teasing touch beneath her tail and over the taut tip of a flush breast make her feel deliciously trapped between. She should... Akua's lips are on her neck, they're too far, the words just fall out...]
I'm not... It's winter in Alenroux, I'm not supposed to be...
[Even now, she still provides excuses. She isn't this wanton by nature, she swears, she does... But she doesn't let the excuses actually stop her, not this time. Even as she sighs through the rest, the excuse for why she was so needy... She knows it doesn't cover her own actions. It doesn't explain away what she's doing. It doesn't stop her from doing it.]
Supposed to be in heat for... for at least three months...
[But she was in something now, so... if Akua was right, if they could just take the edge off, if they could just "rest" and then get back to the Oracle-
Hayame's insides clench eagerly, another whine released as she leans into the other woman and resumes her touch, turning her wrist upwards to give her a better angle from which to thrust her fingers, a shudder racing down her long spine at the lewd, slick sound.]
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She was hungry for it, in a way that defied logic, and perhaps that was what Hayame experienced whenever she was in a heat. It was a roaring inferno, a desperate hunger that left her squirming on Hayame's fingers, chasing a sensation that wasn't quite there yet, but that she wanted to find. Over and over, if she could. If Hayame would allow her the time. ]
Then we will sate it.
[ She promised, instead of telling her she was wrong. Instead of pointing out anything about it. Hayame knew her body best, after all, but Akua wanted her to feel the same as she did, her ghost-like fingers drifted, aiming to fill her in a way that would satisfy her. It wasn't her real fingers after all, merely controlled force, and if it felt solid, like something more pushing at her lips, spreading them apart, ghostly sensation coaxing her open as a phantom thumb brushed against her nerves, trying to make her feel as good as she felt. ]
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She had always hated it. Only recently... only recently she had started to think something good could come of it, that maybe she wouldn't have to go through another frustrating, embarrassing heat ag-... for a while, but-
Hayame swallows some words that might have come out. Her excuses were in the air, she didn't need more. She had said "yes" and Akua had promised to sate them. She knew that Akua could. There wasn't any reason to doubt. So as the "fingers" became less defined and more simply pressure, friction, fill that slips inside of her, as an excited moan parts her lips and slides off her tongue... she lets out a ragged breath and then surges forward, dipping to find the other woman's mouth so that she might mask her sounds momentarily in a kiss, demanding and desperate.
It doesn't mask the other sounds, though. The slick way her nethers part but then clench around the intrusion of that invisible, magic force, how her hooves skitter along the ground as she lets out an aborted half kick, hips bucking up awkwardly into the electric rub of phantom touch that felt all the better each time her body "winked" and pressed her large, spade-shaped clit directly into the sensation of touch. It drives her further, too, anxious to not just receive, to show that she wouldn't be overwhelmed this time. Her fingers pull out of Akua's heat and splay over the half pulled-away undergarment, recalibrating just a moment, as she parts from their kiss with a gasp and a whimper, biting into her bottom lip, her tail shuddering high above her bay rump.
And then she's pressing back in with another finger, holding on to sense long enough to watch and feel for the angle from which Akua levers up her hips, striving to understand where felt best, what she wanted...]
Good-
[So that she can give it to her, curling her fingers and flicking her thumb over the line where lace has been pulled taut over sensitive flesh.]
Is it good... ?
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Yes, it's wonderful.
[ She admitted, her tone soft, and sated, even as her body moved against her fingers, not satisfied with only being given what she wanted, she was Praesi, she would take it, too.
Her soft gasps were loud, even as their breaths were louder, and the slick sounds of both hers and Hayame's arousal was almost vulgar in how loud it was. Or perhaps the room was simply silent, otherwise. Her fingers arched, like a weaver, plucking at strings, one to play with Hayame's nipple still, gentle teases now that she knew what she liked, and her other artfully strummed her magic. She could make Hayame feel pleasantly full — or more if she liked — and the gentle swipes up against her clit whenever it was free for her to press and brush against. She swiped at it, and pressed it, and pinched gently, rubbed it when she could, with her magic, the sensations were... unique like this, but her sorcery was adapt enough to allow her this.
Against her mouth, she murmured — ]
Do you like this?
[ She assumed so, but well. It is good to make certain. ]
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Mmmm...
[Another moan she cannot hide in a kiss when she needs to pant for breath, striving to give as good as she receives, to provide the sense of fill with her fingers and the friction with lace and thumb.]
Can...
[Doing was one thing, but saying... She had managed "yes", but. An expression beyond the shades of cultural shame and inexperience flickers over her face, something... was that guilt? It was. Guilt, as if afraid that more than just being with someone else, that asking for that, for something that person couldn't give her would be the true betrayal. Would it? But she wants it so badly, and Akua could-]
D- Deeper, can you...
[Her sharp teeth bite into her lip again to half swallow her moan, hiding her guilty request in a sloppy kiss, in nips to lips far softer and crimson than her own. She had only had it once, when Set had taken a stallion's form to sate her Discord-mixed heat, and it had been... She had felt pleasure since, and it was good, it was enough- it was more than enough because it came with trust, with something that made her hearts ache sweetly, so it was, it was, but-]
Fill me more...
[But there was some primitive part of her that craved it still. And in this room where hunger ruled...]
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