Zeroth Jupi
Sporadic Writer and Haver of Ideas
- Location
- Somewhere
- Pronouns
- He/She/They
[X] [Fuyao]
Sune's Solution (D&D/MGE)
- Thread starter Erien
- Start date
- Mature Fantasy
Number Seven/Vladimir - 2
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Thanks to @Nottheunmaker for the comm!
Next chapter Tuesday.
—
"Seven, can you fetch my censer?"
The golem tilts her head slowly, very slowly. "The one from Al'Qadim?"
"That would be the one, yes."
The golem shuffles across the room for a moment, her long hair swaying behind her and playing across her nude, bronze skin. Despite Vladimir's repeated requests, Seven had made it a point to not wear clothes in his lab. Or anywhere else she could get away with. She stated it was due to 'efficiency'. The fact that as she returned with the censer she was able to rub her bare ass against him was merely an accident, he was sure.
He wasn't hardly focused on the Golem however, instead the Dragonborn was focused on the woman laying on a slab in front of him. Vladimir had done wonders with Seven, and to that end, the Cloaktower had made it a point to throw everything they found related to these new visitors at him. Some were simple, others were… quite hostile and had to be put down. This however…
He waves the censer over the figure, looking for a reaction. Nothing.
This one confounded him.
Her skin was ceramic, her eyes remained shut despite his best efforts. She didn't breathe, her hair was white silk, not silken, silk. And she was covered in plates of armor harder than any adamantine, and for the past three days he had been attempting to wake her up to no avail.
"Master, shall I fetch the wand of lightning again?"
Vladimir paused, his hand still above the ceramic woman, censer swinging in his hand. "No, have we received any word from the dwarves regarding the material we sent in?"
Seven wrapped her arms around his back, gyrating against him. "No master."
Vladimir sighed, frowning as the awakening draught in the censer failed to do anything, but then, it was attempt number forty to make her do… anything, really. Anyone else would have called her dead, but his experience with Seven told him that appearances could be deceive-
"OUTTA THE WAY!"
Vladimir had enough warning to look up towards the sound of the voice before a child crashed into him from above. He stumbled, tripped, and nearly fell if not for Seven catching him at the last moment. With a thud, a yelp, and a clatter of metal the new arrival crashed onto the stone floor. The figure scrambled across the floor for a moment, rolling and clutching their head, before, suddenly and with great flexibility they flung themselves back up onto their feet and looked around. The new arrival was female, perhaps two feet tall, with shocking green hair, a pair of rather oversized goggles, and a very… loose leather ensemble.
Vladimir thought she rather resembled a gnome, she at least looked as manic as that local turnip salesman that wandered about. She jerked her head this way and that, then finally settled onto Vladimir with a wide, far–too-happy grin.
"You there! What planet is this!?"
"Toril." Vladimir offers neutrally, rolling with it. "And where did you come from?"
"Rivet City, but that's not important, it worke-" The woman throws up her arms in glee, but then pauses, looking at the woman laying on the table. She stares at it, blinking for several moments, then turns to look at Vladimir… then to the Golem peering over his shoulder. "Well, what's going on here then?"
—
"You've spent three days trying to get her working? Sheesh, none of you fancy types can do anythin', can ya?" The 'Gremlin' now identified as 'Cindy' says.
"I'm doing my best." Vladimir growls.
"Best ain't good enough, now, I tells ya what. I'll get her up and runnin' for ya. And you tell me all about these doohickeys about your lab here. Got it?"
"That is… acceptable."
Cindy grins, then steps over to the table, grasping the edge of it, she hosts herself onto it and then beckons Vladmir over. Grinning, she lifts the lower armor plating, pulls down the strip of cloth covering the woman's crotch- "Ya just gotta press the power button."
And presses the hooded 'switch'.
At once the ceramic woman's eyes snap open, glowing amber. She blinks slowly, once, then twice. Then her eyes flit over to Vladimir. She says nothing, does, nothing. And for several moments he worries this is about to go rather poorly.
"Hello I am Automata Unit 97. Might I have your semen?"
He was right.
Next chapter Tuesday.
—
"Seven, can you fetch my censer?"
The golem tilts her head slowly, very slowly. "The one from Al'Qadim?"
"That would be the one, yes."
The golem shuffles across the room for a moment, her long hair swaying behind her and playing across her nude, bronze skin. Despite Vladimir's repeated requests, Seven had made it a point to not wear clothes in his lab. Or anywhere else she could get away with. She stated it was due to 'efficiency'. The fact that as she returned with the censer she was able to rub her bare ass against him was merely an accident, he was sure.
He wasn't hardly focused on the Golem however, instead the Dragonborn was focused on the woman laying on a slab in front of him. Vladimir had done wonders with Seven, and to that end, the Cloaktower had made it a point to throw everything they found related to these new visitors at him. Some were simple, others were… quite hostile and had to be put down. This however…
He waves the censer over the figure, looking for a reaction. Nothing.
This one confounded him.
Her skin was ceramic, her eyes remained shut despite his best efforts. She didn't breathe, her hair was white silk, not silken, silk. And she was covered in plates of armor harder than any adamantine, and for the past three days he had been attempting to wake her up to no avail.
"Master, shall I fetch the wand of lightning again?"
Vladimir paused, his hand still above the ceramic woman, censer swinging in his hand. "No, have we received any word from the dwarves regarding the material we sent in?"
Seven wrapped her arms around his back, gyrating against him. "No master."
Vladimir sighed, frowning as the awakening draught in the censer failed to do anything, but then, it was attempt number forty to make her do… anything, really. Anyone else would have called her dead, but his experience with Seven told him that appearances could be deceive-
"OUTTA THE WAY!"
Vladimir had enough warning to look up towards the sound of the voice before a child crashed into him from above. He stumbled, tripped, and nearly fell if not for Seven catching him at the last moment. With a thud, a yelp, and a clatter of metal the new arrival crashed onto the stone floor. The figure scrambled across the floor for a moment, rolling and clutching their head, before, suddenly and with great flexibility they flung themselves back up onto their feet and looked around. The new arrival was female, perhaps two feet tall, with shocking green hair, a pair of rather oversized goggles, and a very… loose leather ensemble.
Vladimir thought she rather resembled a gnome, she at least looked as manic as that local turnip salesman that wandered about. She jerked her head this way and that, then finally settled onto Vladimir with a wide, far–too-happy grin.
"You there! What planet is this!?"
"Toril." Vladimir offers neutrally, rolling with it. "And where did you come from?"
"Rivet City, but that's not important, it worke-" The woman throws up her arms in glee, but then pauses, looking at the woman laying on the table. She stares at it, blinking for several moments, then turns to look at Vladimir… then to the Golem peering over his shoulder. "Well, what's going on here then?"
—
"You've spent three days trying to get her working? Sheesh, none of you fancy types can do anythin', can ya?" The 'Gremlin' now identified as 'Cindy' says.
"I'm doing my best." Vladimir growls.
"Best ain't good enough, now, I tells ya what. I'll get her up and runnin' for ya. And you tell me all about these doohickeys about your lab here. Got it?"
"That is… acceptable."
Cindy grins, then steps over to the table, grasping the edge of it, she hosts herself onto it and then beckons Vladmir over. Grinning, she lifts the lower armor plating, pulls down the strip of cloth covering the woman's crotch- "Ya just gotta press the power button."
And presses the hooded 'switch'.
At once the ceramic woman's eyes snap open, glowing amber. She blinks slowly, once, then twice. Then her eyes flit over to Vladimir. She says nothing, does, nothing. And for several moments he worries this is about to go rather poorly.
"Hello I am Automata Unit 97. Might I have your semen?"
He was right.
Last edited:
Knowing the MGs, this shouldn't have been as surprising as it was.
Oh good, he's starting to sense the theme.
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The realm is.
- Location
- Texas
And the realm seemed to think that Vladimir needed to get laid almost as much as poor Baeran does.
A Magical Realm?
Nottheunmaker
Altman be praised
- Location
- USG Ishimura
Vladimir wants to make discoveries and receive accolades before going off to fiddle with personal projects. You know, creating new life from scratch, standard Wizard Things. These hoes are also interested in that, but with an entirely different and, in their opinion, more fun act of creation.
Last edited:
4.6 - A Closer Connection
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[Brynhild]
Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!
—
(Brynhild POV)
You had grown quite fond of this place, truth be told. It wasn't home, to be certain, and it took quite some time to parse the fact that the sky wasn't real and there was no true 'outside' to this place. But once one got used to the drunken angel it was actually rather lovely. The servants were useful, the food was delightful, and your room was stocked with everything you could ever want. It almost made you feel guilty for enjoying your time here so much.
Almost.
Your brush moves slowly through your hair, and you smile at the reflection. You felt… pretty. You hadn't felt pretty in a while. Baeran had helped a good deal with that, but then, he had helped with a good deal of things. Such a busy man, far busier than anyone you had ever known. So much stuff he had, stuff he seemingly doesn't care about. You wonder what drives a man to collect so much and yet use so little. But then, for as much wealth as the man had… or at least appeared to have. He never flaunted it. At least, not in your presence. You couldn't hardly say you knew him incredibly well after all. But you knew him enough to be very fond of him, well, more than fond truth be told.
He was rather good at making you feel things you thought you never would again. And not just emotionally. You smile at your reflection, moving the brush once more, humming a soft song from your childhood as you wait for him to retu-
*SLAM*
The door to your room slams open, the door bouncing against the wall. You jerk towards it, half panicked, only to see… nothing. The door was open and nothing was there. "Isabella!" you growl.
Only, there is no cackling vampiress. No shock of white hair sprinting off in the distance proclaiming how she had performed the 'ultimate evil deed'. There was simply notHIIING!? You yelp as hands grasp you by the flank and begin pushing you towards the door. You twist your torso around in alarm, but there is nothing there. Your hooves skid against the ground, trying to fight against the push. To no avail, it was the servants, it had to be. You skip forward, your horseshoes slamming against the tile floor and cracking it as you turn around and glare at the empty spare.
"How dare ya'll!"
You raise an accusatory finger, ready to… berate something that isn't really there. When you hear it. It's… distant, but familiar. Too familiar. Your ears twitch, and your head turns slowly to stare at a door just a little ways down. You hear it again, and you feel your heart skip a beat. It was Baeran… and he was crying. Softly, very softly. Almost imperceptibly softly. But few things escaped your hearing. You forget about the servants, you forget about the brush. Instead you walk gently, as silently as you are able down the hall and towards his door. The entrance to his room was the same as everyone else's, there was surprisingly nothing fancy about it. You paused just before it, listening.
You heard it again, the shuddering breath, the sob.
…
You reach for the knob and turn it, but the door is locked. The sounds from inside don't change, and you debate calling out to him, to check on him. But…
No. Absolutely not.
Absolutely fucking not.
Your eyes narrow, staring at the lock. Then you turn around, place a hand against the far wall, and kick. With a metalling ping the lock breaks off the door, caving inwards and bouncing along the floor. You turn around and shove the door open, entering the room without a word. It's dark, unlit, the curtains are drawn and there's scant signs of life. His room was so… barren. It was something you noticed before. But now, now that didn't matter. What mattered was Baeran. The man you admired was sitting on his knees, head pressed against his dresser, slowly turning his head to look at you in surprise and shock.
His face was… wet with tears, his eyes were bloodshot, any trace of the nobility, the dignity he had before was gone. You didn't ask why. You simply lowered yourself to the ground, wrapped your arms around the back of his head, and pulled him against you the same way he had done to you just a few days prior. "It's okay," you say quietly. "Ah'm here. It's alright now."
—
View: https://youtu.be/ax7PJGDNu60?si=lDAZspspSj85GVpD
—
He fights it, fights against showing further emotion. But only for a moment, his arms gingerly, tentatively wrap around your back, as if afraid doing so is wrong, as if you weren't truly there. Then they clamp against you, his strength enough that a brief lance of pain shoots up your spine. You ignore it, you simply clutch him against you tighter, a hand moving to run through his hair. "It's alright," you say again, softly. "Ah'm here. Ah'll be here as long as you need me to be."
It could be minutes, it could be an hour, Baeran cries away, clutching to you like a rope on a runaway horse. Behind you you hear the sounds of the door being replaced by the servants, he doesn't notice. You hardly do either, instead you simply sit there, letting him take comfort in you. Finally, he speaks.
"B-Brynhild I-" Baeran starts, his voice shaky. "My apologies."
"None o' that." You say firmly. Then, gently, you cup his cheeks, staring into his eyes for a few moments before you place your lips gently against his forehead. You then move your head down, pressing your forehead against his, careful of your horns as you meet his gaze. "What happened?"
Baeran simply stares at you, saying nothing.
You smile. "It's alright Baeran," you say quietly. "Ah didn't even know you were back. Ah ain't gonna go though, not until ya tell me what happened?"
"Why?"
Your smile grows slightly. "Ya barge in on me when I'm crying after seeing my dreams, and expect privacy on yer end? Ya might be a knight but that doesn't entitle ya to be greedy."
He stares at you, saying nothing. Again.
You sigh. "Ya know, when ah was ah kid, ah was always reading stories about knights 'n heroes 'n stuff. Glintin' armor, beautiful steeds, all that kinda things." Your smile dims a fair bit. "Ah always figured some knight'd come by and whisk me off ma' feet. But, well, that didn't happen. Fairy Tales like that ain't too real, and even the shiniest knight has some flaws it turns out. Ain't nothing wrong with that."
You move your hands to cup his cheeks again, squishing them slightly. "Now, talk to me, knight."
"I'm not alive." Baeran replies quietly.
You tilt your head. "Ya breathe, ya got blood. What more do ya need?"
Baeran separates from you slowly, and you allow him to do so. Watching him silently as he moves to sit against the front of the dresser. His knees curl up to his chest, one arm moving to rest upon them, the other flat against the floor as he looks to you once more. His face was still wet with tears, only now, now he looked angry.
"Three times, I have died three times. Three times I have been brought back to life. Each time… there is less of me, less of… who I started as." Baeran says, and his eyes drift away from you towards the window. "I have been cursed, in such ways that I will likely never be cured. I cannot taste, I cannot truly feel temperature. I am slowly becoming less and less… of a functioning being, I suppose." He shakes his head, raising a hand and staring at his fingers. "Everytime I come back, everytime they bring me back. There's less of me there." Then, he looks at me, and a chill runs through me, as the smile he offers… isn't one. It's made of glass.
"And they have to, you know that? It's not fair to judge them for it. I'm the only one who can handle all of these problems, the gods can't. They aren't allowed to. And there are few, very few beings that are as powerful as I am, even less that are on the side of good. So they bring me back as a weapon, and I do not fault them for that."
He lowers his hand, taking in a shuddering breath, his hand moves to his chest, running over the bandage planted by Miki. Without a word he rips it off, revealing flawless flesh underneath. "My mother…" Baeran closes his eyes, then says nothing.
"Baeran, speak ta' me."
"I've said too much alread-"
You cross the distance, awkwardly, your knees weren't meant to crawl. But you manage, slamming your hands on either side of him, anger filling you as you stare down at the man. "Speak to me! Ya think ah enjoyed ya knowing what those monsters did to me!? Ah'm ruined, hideous and corrupted. Ya said that was fine! Ya said ah was beautiful! So ya don't get to act like this, speak!"
"I worship the god of beauty, but I am incapable of loving someone." Baeran says quietly, a haunted tone to his voice.
You stare down at him, processing that. "Holstshit."
"What?"
"Maybe ya forget because yer busy an' crap. But ah've seen the way ya look at Fuyao. Ah used to be a Unicorn. Ah know what love looks like." You roll your eyes. "Maybe ya don't know how to recognize it anymore, but ya are perfectly capable of lovin' someone." You smile again, and you feel it is rather impish. "Ignis is in love with ya, dear Demon Lord below she is in love with ya. She's out there practicing right now to try an' impress ya. Miki's been starin' after ya, and ah heard Isabella moanin' yer name last night."
You move a hand to tweak his nose, then you lift the hem of your dress to wipe at his face. "Ya've got plenty of people in love with ya, and ya do know how to love others. Yer just stubborn, which is what a knight should be anyway."
"It's not that simple Brynhild."
"Ah know," you reply. "Ya feel lost, ya feel like yer…" you sigh. "Like ya don't really belong anywhere anymore. It's tough, isn't it?"
Baeran says nothing, simply staring at you.
"Yer alive, ya can feel love, and yer just about the best man ah've ever met. So what if ya need to cry from time to time? Yer too damn busy." Then, you lean down and kiss him. It's chaste.
For about a second, then you extend your tongue, drawing his tongue out and into your mouth. Yours is far thicker and wider than his, and you dominate the male easily. His hands move to your shoulders, not pushing you off, but holding you there. Your mate has accepted you. You separate slowly, staring into his eyes. His gaze is hazy, unfocused, and you dip in again, capturing his lips. He doesn't fight you, he clutches onto you ever tighter, and you feel the throbbing in your core. You would take him now, you would mate with him. You would breed, breed. Breed.
No. That isn't what he needs right now.
You fight against every instinct in your body, pulling yourself slowly back. Mana, faint traces of it lingers on your tongue, and you savor it before smiling down at Baeran. He sits there now, panting, thoroughly distracted from all of his problems. You ignore the now painful throbbing in your core, focusing entirely on the man in front of you instead, you would not do that to him. You couldn't, not when he's vulnerable.
… But some more kissing wouldn't hurt.
You lean down aga-
*BANG*
—
(Baeran POV)
You jerk your head towards the door to see… Cidrom. She had more scales on her face than usual, and an icy mist was billowing out of her mouth as she stood in what remains of your doorway. Brynhild had removed the lock, Cidrom has removed the door.
You watch, silently, as the Dragoness walks across the room, stops in front of you. Then-
You push Brynhild out of the way as Cidrom punches you with enough force that you go through the now exploding dresser. You gasp in pain, your back hitting the wall as broken bits of wood and glass rain around you. Your vision swims for only a moment, too many clubs, too many blows over the years to let a simple punch from a dragon discombobulate you for long, and you find yourself staring up at a very angry Cidrom.
"Baeran!"
"That is indeed my name, and you are angry."
Her hand, now a claw wraps around your throat and hauls you off the ground, she yanks you forward, her forehead smashing against your own. Then she holds you there, eyes meeting eyes, gaze meeting gaze. Distantly you hear the others arrive in shouts and running feet.
But you don't move your gaze away from Cidrom.
… It almost reminds you of how you two met.
—
[] [She had saved your life]
You were younger, and a fair bit over your head.
[] [You had saved her life]
She was overly proud, and had wandered into her own downfall.
Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!
—
(Brynhild POV)
You had grown quite fond of this place, truth be told. It wasn't home, to be certain, and it took quite some time to parse the fact that the sky wasn't real and there was no true 'outside' to this place. But once one got used to the drunken angel it was actually rather lovely. The servants were useful, the food was delightful, and your room was stocked with everything you could ever want. It almost made you feel guilty for enjoying your time here so much.
Almost.
Your brush moves slowly through your hair, and you smile at the reflection. You felt… pretty. You hadn't felt pretty in a while. Baeran had helped a good deal with that, but then, he had helped with a good deal of things. Such a busy man, far busier than anyone you had ever known. So much stuff he had, stuff he seemingly doesn't care about. You wonder what drives a man to collect so much and yet use so little. But then, for as much wealth as the man had… or at least appeared to have. He never flaunted it. At least, not in your presence. You couldn't hardly say you knew him incredibly well after all. But you knew him enough to be very fond of him, well, more than fond truth be told.
He was rather good at making you feel things you thought you never would again. And not just emotionally. You smile at your reflection, moving the brush once more, humming a soft song from your childhood as you wait for him to retu-
*SLAM*
The door to your room slams open, the door bouncing against the wall. You jerk towards it, half panicked, only to see… nothing. The door was open and nothing was there. "Isabella!" you growl.
Only, there is no cackling vampiress. No shock of white hair sprinting off in the distance proclaiming how she had performed the 'ultimate evil deed'. There was simply notHIIING!? You yelp as hands grasp you by the flank and begin pushing you towards the door. You twist your torso around in alarm, but there is nothing there. Your hooves skid against the ground, trying to fight against the push. To no avail, it was the servants, it had to be. You skip forward, your horseshoes slamming against the tile floor and cracking it as you turn around and glare at the empty spare.
"How dare ya'll!"
You raise an accusatory finger, ready to… berate something that isn't really there. When you hear it. It's… distant, but familiar. Too familiar. Your ears twitch, and your head turns slowly to stare at a door just a little ways down. You hear it again, and you feel your heart skip a beat. It was Baeran… and he was crying. Softly, very softly. Almost imperceptibly softly. But few things escaped your hearing. You forget about the servants, you forget about the brush. Instead you walk gently, as silently as you are able down the hall and towards his door. The entrance to his room was the same as everyone else's, there was surprisingly nothing fancy about it. You paused just before it, listening.
You heard it again, the shuddering breath, the sob.
…
You reach for the knob and turn it, but the door is locked. The sounds from inside don't change, and you debate calling out to him, to check on him. But…
No. Absolutely not.
Absolutely fucking not.
Your eyes narrow, staring at the lock. Then you turn around, place a hand against the far wall, and kick. With a metalling ping the lock breaks off the door, caving inwards and bouncing along the floor. You turn around and shove the door open, entering the room without a word. It's dark, unlit, the curtains are drawn and there's scant signs of life. His room was so… barren. It was something you noticed before. But now, now that didn't matter. What mattered was Baeran. The man you admired was sitting on his knees, head pressed against his dresser, slowly turning his head to look at you in surprise and shock.
His face was… wet with tears, his eyes were bloodshot, any trace of the nobility, the dignity he had before was gone. You didn't ask why. You simply lowered yourself to the ground, wrapped your arms around the back of his head, and pulled him against you the same way he had done to you just a few days prior. "It's okay," you say quietly. "Ah'm here. It's alright now."
—
View: https://youtu.be/ax7PJGDNu60?si=lDAZspspSj85GVpD
—
He fights it, fights against showing further emotion. But only for a moment, his arms gingerly, tentatively wrap around your back, as if afraid doing so is wrong, as if you weren't truly there. Then they clamp against you, his strength enough that a brief lance of pain shoots up your spine. You ignore it, you simply clutch him against you tighter, a hand moving to run through his hair. "It's alright," you say again, softly. "Ah'm here. Ah'll be here as long as you need me to be."
It could be minutes, it could be an hour, Baeran cries away, clutching to you like a rope on a runaway horse. Behind you you hear the sounds of the door being replaced by the servants, he doesn't notice. You hardly do either, instead you simply sit there, letting him take comfort in you. Finally, he speaks.
"B-Brynhild I-" Baeran starts, his voice shaky. "My apologies."
"None o' that." You say firmly. Then, gently, you cup his cheeks, staring into his eyes for a few moments before you place your lips gently against his forehead. You then move your head down, pressing your forehead against his, careful of your horns as you meet his gaze. "What happened?"
Baeran simply stares at you, saying nothing.
You smile. "It's alright Baeran," you say quietly. "Ah didn't even know you were back. Ah ain't gonna go though, not until ya tell me what happened?"
"Why?"
Your smile grows slightly. "Ya barge in on me when I'm crying after seeing my dreams, and expect privacy on yer end? Ya might be a knight but that doesn't entitle ya to be greedy."
He stares at you, saying nothing. Again.
You sigh. "Ya know, when ah was ah kid, ah was always reading stories about knights 'n heroes 'n stuff. Glintin' armor, beautiful steeds, all that kinda things." Your smile dims a fair bit. "Ah always figured some knight'd come by and whisk me off ma' feet. But, well, that didn't happen. Fairy Tales like that ain't too real, and even the shiniest knight has some flaws it turns out. Ain't nothing wrong with that."
You move your hands to cup his cheeks again, squishing them slightly. "Now, talk to me, knight."
"I'm not alive." Baeran replies quietly.
You tilt your head. "Ya breathe, ya got blood. What more do ya need?"
Baeran separates from you slowly, and you allow him to do so. Watching him silently as he moves to sit against the front of the dresser. His knees curl up to his chest, one arm moving to rest upon them, the other flat against the floor as he looks to you once more. His face was still wet with tears, only now, now he looked angry.
"Three times, I have died three times. Three times I have been brought back to life. Each time… there is less of me, less of… who I started as." Baeran says, and his eyes drift away from you towards the window. "I have been cursed, in such ways that I will likely never be cured. I cannot taste, I cannot truly feel temperature. I am slowly becoming less and less… of a functioning being, I suppose." He shakes his head, raising a hand and staring at his fingers. "Everytime I come back, everytime they bring me back. There's less of me there." Then, he looks at me, and a chill runs through me, as the smile he offers… isn't one. It's made of glass.
"And they have to, you know that? It's not fair to judge them for it. I'm the only one who can handle all of these problems, the gods can't. They aren't allowed to. And there are few, very few beings that are as powerful as I am, even less that are on the side of good. So they bring me back as a weapon, and I do not fault them for that."
He lowers his hand, taking in a shuddering breath, his hand moves to his chest, running over the bandage planted by Miki. Without a word he rips it off, revealing flawless flesh underneath. "My mother…" Baeran closes his eyes, then says nothing.
"Baeran, speak ta' me."
"I've said too much alread-"
You cross the distance, awkwardly, your knees weren't meant to crawl. But you manage, slamming your hands on either side of him, anger filling you as you stare down at the man. "Speak to me! Ya think ah enjoyed ya knowing what those monsters did to me!? Ah'm ruined, hideous and corrupted. Ya said that was fine! Ya said ah was beautiful! So ya don't get to act like this, speak!"
"I worship the god of beauty, but I am incapable of loving someone." Baeran says quietly, a haunted tone to his voice.
You stare down at him, processing that. "Holstshit."
"What?"
"Maybe ya forget because yer busy an' crap. But ah've seen the way ya look at Fuyao. Ah used to be a Unicorn. Ah know what love looks like." You roll your eyes. "Maybe ya don't know how to recognize it anymore, but ya are perfectly capable of lovin' someone." You smile again, and you feel it is rather impish. "Ignis is in love with ya, dear Demon Lord below she is in love with ya. She's out there practicing right now to try an' impress ya. Miki's been starin' after ya, and ah heard Isabella moanin' yer name last night."
You move a hand to tweak his nose, then you lift the hem of your dress to wipe at his face. "Ya've got plenty of people in love with ya, and ya do know how to love others. Yer just stubborn, which is what a knight should be anyway."
"It's not that simple Brynhild."
"Ah know," you reply. "Ya feel lost, ya feel like yer…" you sigh. "Like ya don't really belong anywhere anymore. It's tough, isn't it?"
Baeran says nothing, simply staring at you.
"Yer alive, ya can feel love, and yer just about the best man ah've ever met. So what if ya need to cry from time to time? Yer too damn busy." Then, you lean down and kiss him. It's chaste.
For about a second, then you extend your tongue, drawing his tongue out and into your mouth. Yours is far thicker and wider than his, and you dominate the male easily. His hands move to your shoulders, not pushing you off, but holding you there. Your mate has accepted you. You separate slowly, staring into his eyes. His gaze is hazy, unfocused, and you dip in again, capturing his lips. He doesn't fight you, he clutches onto you ever tighter, and you feel the throbbing in your core. You would take him now, you would mate with him. You would breed, breed. Breed.
No. That isn't what he needs right now.
You fight against every instinct in your body, pulling yourself slowly back. Mana, faint traces of it lingers on your tongue, and you savor it before smiling down at Baeran. He sits there now, panting, thoroughly distracted from all of his problems. You ignore the now painful throbbing in your core, focusing entirely on the man in front of you instead, you would not do that to him. You couldn't, not when he's vulnerable.
… But some more kissing wouldn't hurt.
You lean down aga-
*BANG*
—
(Baeran POV)
You jerk your head towards the door to see… Cidrom. She had more scales on her face than usual, and an icy mist was billowing out of her mouth as she stood in what remains of your doorway. Brynhild had removed the lock, Cidrom has removed the door.
You watch, silently, as the Dragoness walks across the room, stops in front of you. Then-
You push Brynhild out of the way as Cidrom punches you with enough force that you go through the now exploding dresser. You gasp in pain, your back hitting the wall as broken bits of wood and glass rain around you. Your vision swims for only a moment, too many clubs, too many blows over the years to let a simple punch from a dragon discombobulate you for long, and you find yourself staring up at a very angry Cidrom.
"Baeran!"
"That is indeed my name, and you are angry."
Her hand, now a claw wraps around your throat and hauls you off the ground, she yanks you forward, her forehead smashing against your own. Then she holds you there, eyes meeting eyes, gaze meeting gaze. Distantly you hear the others arrive in shouts and running feet.
But you don't move your gaze away from Cidrom.
… It almost reminds you of how you two met.
—
[] [She had saved your life]
You were younger, and a fair bit over your head.
[] [You had saved her life]
She was overly proud, and had wandered into her own downfall.
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chellewalker
President of the Water Seeker Fan Club
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] [She had saved your life]
This feels like a neat subversion.
This feels like a neat subversion.
- Location
- Texas
Ooh, is that Mystra I see taking action through the house and servants she created?
I don't care what that door is made of, that lock is NOT surviving this kick.
Brynhild is a damn good girl!
She's got a bit of a point there Baeran.
Yes, overcome your base instincts with willpower! Huzzah!
[X] [She had saved your life]
You were younger, and a fair bit over your head.
This promises to be quite entertaining!
- Location
- Newer England
Ladies and gentlemen, we got him! Now that Baeran's actually confessing his insecurities the rest of the gang has a chance to keep hitting home that he's a real person worthy of love, and we seem to be making progress already! I admit Cidrom's taking the hitting part a bit literally, but we can work on that.
I'm assuming this should be 'wouldn't', though the kissing does end with Baeran getting hurt momentarily...
[X] [She had saved your life]
Happy with either of these options, but this makes a nice distinction between Cidrom being someone Baeran actually stayed friends with vs the uncountable number rescued damsels proclaiming their undying affection for him. (Cidrom remains disappointed Baeran broke with tradition by not proclaiming his undying affection for her in turn)
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] [She had saved your life]
- Location
- USA
[x] [She had saved your life]
I'm wondering: is Baeran a revenant, and is the result of his his return to life getting screwed up somehow?
Or is his lack of feeling just nerve damage and a good old Regeneration would help?
Then again, it might be entirely psychosomatic.
Or is his lack of feeling just nerve damage and a good old Regeneration would help?
Then again, it might be entirely psychosomatic.
