Wardrobe Malfunction

Under the celestial spray of milk, Desdemona danced as though her life depended on it. For an Apsara like herself, this was true, although less in the 'threatened by criminals' way, and more like a human needed to breathe. The perfect movements were revitalizing for her, setting her mind at ease, and helping her to concentrate. Not on anything in particular, because as an Apsara, she did not have much that she needed to worry about. Her life was one of ease and relaxation, dancing to practice her movements beneath the dripping ocean of Amrita. She allowed the milk to drip down onto her, cool and forever fresh, drizzling softly onto her shoulders, and doing elaborate curls around her arms and legs, dressing her more beautifully than any base fabric could. A delicate bronze tambourine shook between her fingers, its rattling perfect.

 

The Lilim approached her. Desdemona had met many of the strange pale succubi in her short life. There were said to be many of them, a testament to their parents love. They were universally powerful, haughty, and somewhat eccentric in their sexual tastes. But Eros' way was that everyone should be granted the chance for true and lasting love, even if they were rather arrogant about it. And so she bowed deeply to the Lilim, her hands tracing delicate patterns in the air as she her hair dipped down to the dark, sky-black ground, trailing across it. "My lady. It is an honor. How may I help you?"

 

The Lilim sighed. Desdemona peeked up, and blanched. The Lilim was sporting a rather bad black eye, and had a bandaged arm. Desdemona had never actually seen a Lilim with their hair mussed up before. Seeing one who was downright injured was not only unprecedented, but terrifying. The Lilim was the child of the greatest hero who had ever existed, and the most powerful demon lord to take that role. Desdemona decided that it was probably just a result of an overly enthusiastic lover with a taste for roughness. That was a nice, happy thought. "A sage has arisen. A powerful one."

 

Desdemona clapped her hands together, her hips still swaying back and forward to the internal beat. Her internal clock was better than the finest mechanisms, and the tambourine continued to rattle. Of course, she knew of sages. Not quite like heroes, exactly. They were humans who, for one reason or another, did not have sex with others. The powerful spiritual energy they produced naturally became backed up, filling them with power. The more intense the libido of the human, the more they produced. It was said that a man who didn't lie with a woman for his first thirty years was destined to become a great mage. Much longer than that, and things could get strange. In ages past, great sages had threatened the gods themselves. Of course, in the modern day, no human was likely to spend such a long time bereft of pleasant company long enough to achieve such great heights. "A sage! I am honored. Am I the best choice?"

 

The Lilim took a deep breath. "This is not a happy task, Desdemona. Your name may yet prove accurate."

 

Her name. Desdemona frowned, even as she kept the tambourine shaking gently. It wasn't the nicest name for a young woman to have. It meant 'Cursed by ill stars', from what her parents had told her. They hadn't been trying to be cruel, simply accurate; It was said that she was born under a star that foretold great crises in her life. Of course, she had never taken that very seriously. Stars were meant to be danced under, not to be consulted for life advice or naming ideas. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean. Surely, even if he's a sage, Apsaras never fail." She smiled. It was a comforting truth. The Apsara were designed to turn human's minds away from dreams of conquering and mastering nature. Helping them to understand the simple pleasures of love, and a soft, comfortable body to nestle against. Humans weren't supposed to be gods. They weren't happy that way, either. That's why Apsaras enjoyed their work, saving humanity from such responsibilities. "Who is this sage?"

 

"Kather."

 

Desdemona was silent for a moment, waiting for the Lilim to continue. When it became clear this was not going to happen, she frowned. The Lilim had spoken with the kind of intonations usually reserved for some dark chaos demon from the depths of the ocean, or one of the greater Gods of the council. "Ah... I'm afraid I'm not aware of the significance. Who is Kather?"

 

The Lilim gave her a pitying look. "I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you more about him. We simply don't know. He is not a king, or a famous wise man. In fact, we had quite presumed he was dead. Several hundred years ago, with the ascension of the Demon Lord, he went into seclusion, then a young novitiate. He disappeared into the mountains of the Mist Continent. In fact, just about everyone who had known of him assumed he died, long ago." She reached up to her bruised eye, and winced slightly as she probed it, touching it delicately. The experience of a bruise, and of being inconvenienced by injury, was clearly new to her. "He has not. And for reasons he has not chosen to share, he is marching for the Demon Lord's castle. He may wish to assault the Demon Lord and her husband."

 

Desdemona burst out laughing. The Lilim didn't join her, and the laughter died slowly, as Desdemona gave a slightly bemused smile. "Surely, then, there is no great issue. By the time he makes it close to the castle, he will be some demon's slave, won't he? I almost feel a little... sorry... for him." She saw the expression on the Lilim's face. "He couldn't be a threat. He's just human."

 

"As is the Demon Lord's husband. I fear that you do not understand quite the significance. This man has spent hundreds of years in meditation. He has not so much as masturbated, shaved, or ate a meal more satisfying than herbal grasses in all of that time. He made it extraordinarily clear to me that he would not brook the interference of monsters." The girl winced slightly, resting her hand on her bandaged arm. "He was very... earnest. It may be that the Demon Lord herself would be able to stop him. But I fear he might be able to strike a crippling blow to her first, leaving her open to an attack by the Order, or by the Central God. Leaving such things to chance could be fatal."

 

Desdemona swallowed. Her throat was growing dry. "I'm... I'm not a powerful monster. My lady, I'm just twenty, I am afraid I don't know what I could possibly do-"

 

"It is your weakness, your innocence, your lack of monstrous nature, that is why you are perfect. You must go to him. And you must persuade him not to follow this task."

 

There was a moment of stillness, followed by a clatter, as the tambourine struck the ground. The Apsara's bright blue eyes stared as she stood still, the rhythm lost. "Please, my lady. You must be joking."

 

"I wish that I were. Prepare yourself." The Lilim's hands glowed purple, and she reached out, touching Desdemona's forehead. She gasped, as the world collapsed down into a point around her, and then-

 

Desdemona blinked. She stood in a perfect valley. It was green, and bright, and lush with life. Two great ranges of mountains stood on either side, and a perfect blue river ran through its center, filled with the snowmelt, rushing. She could hear it even from where she stood. Cherry trees filled the valley, great pink blossoms drifting across with the wind, fluttering down from the trees with an impossible beauty. The scent was magnificent, sending her head to spinning. She could have lain in the soft grass, and buried herself in the fantasy, but for three things.

 

First, it was winter. The sharp bite was in the air. The trees should have all been dead, the lake frozen, the ground covered with frost. It should have been a desolate wasteland, not this paradisaical wonder. She could feel the energy pulsing through the valley, a heat, a vitality, that was making the very air churn violently. Life force was erupting within this valley, driving away the snow and the cold, and forcing everything to riotous, desperate life.

 

Second, the pass. One of the two mountain ranges was visibly cracked open. As though the fist of a god had smote it, there was a passage, perhaps three feet wide, several hundred feet tall, and several miles long, like a very thin wafer had been ripped out of the earth. Its surface was smooth, covered with only a few small pebbles. Whatever had done this would make the greatest Wurms question whether they even engaged in vigorous physical exercise, bro.

 

Third, the man. He sat, his legs crossed, serenely picking granite pebbles out of his toes. He was covered in a long, brown robe, and he was regarding her with a look of annoyance, like a lion might feel for a flea, save that a lion would have far more difficulty killing a flea for disturbing it. The man's features were hidden by the robe's hood, and the only part of him visible were his strong, knobbly-knuckled hands, and his calloused, rock-clad feet. He regarded her quietly. "You are an Apsara." She nodded. "Your kind breaks heroes." She swallowed, but nodded again. "You are not a monster. But if you should attempt to charm me, through magic, through dance, or through words, I will kill you. It will give me no pleasure, but I am well versed in eschewing pleasure."

 

She licked her lips nervously. Soft, wet tongue, drawn across plump, pink-brown skin. His knuckles cracked as his fists tensed, and she forced herself to stop. "Kind sir, please, forgive me, but I fear that my kind are not well-suited to... restraint-" She flinched, as he stood up. He drew off the cloak, and threw it to her. It was worn, but warm. She drew it over her head, as grateful for something to keep the human from feeling compelled to slay her as for the warmth it provided in the cold valley. She turned to thank him, and her jaw dropped.

 

She'd had a very clear image. Sages were not ugly, necessarily, but they were old men, by and large. The man standing before her could have been her contemporary. He had no hair, his forehead smooth and shining, bald. He was not handsome, certainly, but he was youthful, and although he was rough, he radiated the kind of power, control, and harshness that was practically a perfume to one of the Celestial nymphs. The fact that his only clothing was a well-laundered, threadbare white thong, certainly helped. "You are staring, nymph. You are not a monster, and are one of the Goddess of Love's beloved children. In honor of her, I will not take your life for eying me with your lascivious gaze. But if you have something to say, then say it, now."

 

He began walking down the hill, and she trotted to keep up. "Ah! Kind sir, thank you. I have been sent here, I will admit. My goddess, and her allies, fear your intentions. You are making for the Demon Lord's castle. Did you know this?"

 

"I did."

 

"It would not be the safest place for a sage such as you. Many ruthless monsters live there, and they would be eager to break a powerful, proud human, such as yourself, to their will. Perhaps you would be-"

 

He swept a hand through the air. A cherry tree cracked, and fell. Its trunk severed by a blow. It was two dozen paces away. The strike had been lazy, half-hearted. She remembered the bruises on the Lilim's perfect, pale skin, and swallowed, hard. He turned his eyes towards her, his expression not angry, not even proud, simply resigned. "I am aware of where I am going. I am not afraid of what I will meet there. I have spent the last few hundred years meditating, allowing myself to examine this issue. And there is no other course. The Demon Lord must die."

 

"Ah, ah, but, why must she die? Certainly, she has not done that much harm. The great cycle of destruction, the death of humans, and of monsters, has been ended. I would think that would be a great news. Monsters and humans may freely commingle, loving. The least monster is able to ascend, to learn the beauties of human civilization. Savage ogres, drunkard onis, vicious orcs, cruel undead; They are becoming enlightened. And even the lowest peasant may find love and happiness in the arms of a monster. I am certain, that if you were to embrace me, and-"

 

She went silent, as he turned. He held his hand out, forefinger and middle-finger pointed, the rest curled, the tips just a few inches from her chest. There was no lust in his movements. Just cold, deadly menace, harsh enough to cut out her heart. "I have foregone the touch of a woman for centuries. I do not crave love, and I do not need love. You are a base creature, a preta, a hungry ghost. You have nothing but the most prurient urges. As this is your nature, I do not hate you for it, and I would prefer not to destroy you for it. But just because you do not know better does not mean you will be allowed to slake your lusts. If you attempt to suggest that I would be best-served by indulging in carnal activities with you again, I will gouge out your heart with my fingers."

 

He turned, and the two of them walked in silence for some time. When her teeth had stopped chattering, she tried another tack. "The Demon Lord does not plan evil, you know. She does not wish to harm humans, or anyone."

 

"The Dwarves, the Elves, the other species of this world, are falling apart. Humans remain separate from monsters only because of the Order. Every child of a monster, is a monster. She plans a gentle assimilation, a gentle annexation. And if she were to succeed, all would die out."

 

"That's hardly fair. The seed of Dwarves and Elves remains solid. They are not going to die out. No one is. The Demon Lord simply needs enough time, to help everyone."

 

They walked in silence for another minute before he spoke again. "Monsters and humans are opposed. This is our nature. Tell me, why should I believe that the Demon Lord has our best interests in mind?"

 

"Well- It's like you said, the Demon Lord has made it so that her people cannot reproduce without humans. They are dependent on humans. They cannot afford to take the life of a human. And even those who enslave and torment know in their hearts that each and every monster born carries a seed of their father within them. All of them are, at least in a part, human."

 

He turned towards her, an eyebrow raised. "Is that so? But still, they raid, and steal. They give no choice."

 

"There is still conflict. The Demon Lord needs power. Every monstrous couple gives her that power. Unless they continue to expand, she will not be able to give them that choice. Those who interact with monsters will be out-bred by those who do not. When men and monsters may live together in harmony, without the need for raiding, for expansion, then everyone who lives will be able to make their decision. Once there is no longer danger, people are free to choose whatever they like. It is always that way in a crisis."

 

They arrived at the edge of the icy river. Kather crossed his arms, studying the water. "Do you know the parable of the Scorpion and the Frog?"

 

"I don't need you to carry me across."

 

"That is not what I mean. The Demon Lord could allow humanity to die out, out-bred, destroyed. Then, she could change her people back. It would be an easy way to destroy humanity. To finally accomplish what the Demon Lord has always sought. It would be a slow, gentle, loving death, embraced in the arms of soft and beguiling lovers, like yourself. How can humanity trust monsters? As long as the two have existed, humans have been meat beneath monstrous claws. The only hope has been in heroes, and sages. Those who were strong enough to break Demon Lords and fairy gods with bare fists. And now, we find a Demon Lord who is clever. One who has learned that in the heart of each hero is a human, prone to love, tenderness. All of those things which monsters do not possess. Using our own love against us, like a weapon, to destroy us. Do you see why we fear such a beguiling approach?"

 

The man marched in, ignoring the near-freezing waters as they coursed over his skin. He was not even slowed by the water, as she danced lightly across its surface, meeting him at the other side, her head lowered. "You cannot trust us?"

 

"Your kind exist to tear men down, to force us below the monsters and the gods. Do you think that you have any place to complain about being untrusted?"

 

"We don't do it to subordinate you. Humans aren't suited to being gods. It's a miserable experience for them, isolating, painful, cold. It makes them hurt." She crossed her arms, trying so hard not to push her breasts up. She hadn't danced for nearly half an hour. It was as though she was suffocating in her own skin, forced to hold still to keep the human from growing agitated. "Apsaras simply wish to see humans be happy. It is so rare a condition for your species, can you blame us for wanting to lavish it upon the humans who are least happy? You sages who flay yourselves, hurt yourselves, in the pursuit of meaningless power?"

 

"Power exists for a reason. To protect."

 

"Ah hah!" She turned towards him, point sharply. "Protect people? Then you must know what would happen if you succeeded in this task. The demon lord maintains the change on the monsters. With her death, they would become feral once more, turning into mindless beasts. Kingdoms which have welcomed the monsters would be torn apart from within. Loving mothers would butcher their husbands and their lovers, unable to hold back the blood-lust. Noble, gentle women, taken over by savagery. How can you want to protect people when your actions would result in the deaths of thousands- millions- of innocent people, whose only crime was to love?"

 

He stopped so suddenly she almost walked into him, a certain death sentence with his attitudes towards physical contact. He raised a hand, and caught a cherry blossom between two fingers, holding it gently. "I have considered this."

 

The wind whistled through the valley, a rush filling the air, the branches and stems of the trees shaking, a blizzard of pink washing down between them. The Apsara crossed her arms, shuddering. Even with the robe covering her, it was cold. "And? What conclusion did you come to, while you were sitting all alone?"

 

"I realized that everyone dies. That is the nature of things. The old dies, to make way for the new. It is sad, but it is also happy. It would mean changes. It would mean the deaths of many. But everyone dies eventually. This change threatens that very cycle. Those who marry monsters grow old slower, and slower, until they may not even die. They become without need for food, or water, or anything but the company of others. They do not wither. They do not age. They do not die. They are no longer mortal. They would threaten the entire cycle of life, and death. So if they must die, then it is a tragedy. But not an unthinkable one."

 

He turned to meet her eyes, and she stared. There was a sharp crack in the air, and a pain across the palm of her hand as his cheek reddened. She realized, with a kind of dull horror, that she had just slapped a man who could carve a mountainside with the edge of his palm. And she was too enraged to apologize. "Not unthinkable? To murder so many kind men for opening their heart, because you think that they are being selfish to open their heart? That they're doing wrong because they do not eat, they do not drink, and they live unnaturally long?" She shook with the barely suppressed anger. "When was the last time you looked in a mirror? You've lived hundreds of years without food, or water, or anything that humans need! What the hell right do you have to tell them what is natural?"

 

"I. Earned this." His voice was a deadly hiss, his eyes burning. "I have forsaken pleasure for purpose. That is what it means to be human."

 

"That's the most horrible thing I've ever heard! That's not being human! It's being a machine!"

 

His fist rose into the air, the flat of his palm visible. She closed her eyes, her fists tight. She said a silent prayer to her parents, begging for their forgiveness, as his hand fell towards her like the death of an empire, and exactly as lethal to those caught beneath it. He pulled his blow, just barely avoiding striking her, and the wind from the near-miss ripped at her clothing. His robe shook and fluttered around her dark, brown-skinned body, and then shredded, tearing away, finally forced past their limits. Her slender, barely containing clothes beneath fared no better, ripping, and falling to the ground around her, leaving her naked. She swallowed, hard, her cheeks flushing, as her breasts bounced and wobbled in time to the wind, exposed. She stared down at herself, and then up at him. His eyes were practically burning, his expression livid. Then she looked down towards his groin, and realized that it was not anger that was motivating him.

 

He leapt at her.

 

Several hours later, she sighed happily. He was inexperienced with women, certainly, but a certain level of raw animal desire and literally centuries of built-up stamina made up for it. He was crouched nearby, his hands over his eyes, as she lay on her back, languid and satisfied. She sat up, frowning. He was sobbing softly. "What's the matter?" she asked, reaching out to gently touch him.

 

To her surprise, he lashed out, pulling free of her grasp. "It's gone. All of the power. I can't feel it anymore. Centuries, I've spent, resisting the urge, and all of it, in a single second, utterly wasted, because I wasn't... strong enough!" The tears were pouring down his cheeks, his knuckles white, his fingernails pressing into his forehead so hard she was afraid he might draw his blood. "All because I couldn't resist...! I've disgraced myself! My parents! My teachers! All that I'd hoped to achieve, lost, because I was weak...!"

 

She stood up, and watched him, her arms crossed over her stomach. He wasn't happy. He was supposed to be happy, wasn't he? After laying with an Apsara, any man should be delirious with joy. But there was nothing but the sound of pain in his voice.

 

"I... I'm sorry-"

 

"It is not your fault." His voice went dull, emotionless. "You are but a monster. Like all of the others. You cannot hate the animal for being an animal, the hungry ghost for being a hungry ghost. Humans are the only ones in this world with choice. And I chose to fail. I sacrificed everything for one... ruinous moment." He sat, his hands on his face. She sat on the robe, where he had leapt atop her, and tried to think. It was not something she was used to. She was a creature of instinct, of the moment. Planning, and trying to sooth the wounded heart of someone with a method other than sexual congress- she was not skilled in these things.

 

"I... It's not that bad, is it? The Demon Lord isn't being so terrible, and you could always go for another few hundred years-"

 

"It's no good. I've failed. I'll likely die soon, my body no longer sustained by the chastity I fought so hard for." His eyes were hollow, drawn, defeated. It hurt her inside. She didn't want this, this broken, unhappy, lost looking man. He had so much purpose, before. She bit her lip.

 

"You just need... time. Yes? Time so that, if the Demon Lord does prove to be evil- I don't believe she is, but if she does- that you'll be able to stop her. That's why you wanted power, right?"

 

"Yes," he said, turning towards her. "But what-" He was stopped mid-sentence by a splash of celestial milk, dripping down his lips, the warmth and energy pouring down his throat, his eyes wide and surprised, as he swallowed.

 

"Then I will make sure that you will live." She smiled sweetly. "I am not a thing meant to destroy you, or debase you. I want to make you happy. That is what I live for. Love is what I was made for, and love can make you strong, even more powerful than being alone, and flagellating yourself. If you want to be powerful enough to protect others, to be able to make sure humans will be safe... I will help you."

 

"You're one of Eros' angels," he said, his expression suspicious. "You are her creature. Used to degrade humans, to destroy heroes, to corrupt saints. Why would you help me?"

 

"Because I am not a scorpion. I am an Elemental. We are not destroyers of men. We simply want them to be happy." She reached out for him. "Please... will you trust me?"

 

There was a long moment of silence, as he stared at her. Her heart pounded, the fear of rejection savage. Even without the power of hundreds of years of penance, he could still destroy her with a word, or a gesture. Love was a powerful thing, after all.

 

"What's your name?"

 

"Desdemona."

 

He nodded. "Desdemona... It's a rather beautiful name." He took a deep breath, and then reached out, taking her hand. "I will trust you. For now."

 

She smiled. And then, she kissed him.