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- "1:52. Over two hours to go."
- The man yawned, standing in the middle of the hall. Eyelids drooping, he once more found himself gazing at the ornate wall-clock, following the swings of the pendulum as the seconds ticked down to the end of his shift.
- "Dutch." His partner slapped him on the back, jolting him awake. "Get a grip and stay awake. We're paid to watch the house, not the clock."
- "C'mon, Turk." Dutch gave the man a jab in the shoulder. "Five minutes, and I'll meet you in the gallery."
- "No can do. And it's the foyer next." Turk straightened his beret, running a finger under the lining of the red fabric. "Time for the check-in."
- "Fine, fine. I was just testing ya."
- Floorboards creaked beneath the pair as the two treaded along the red carpet to the foyer. Turk, ever the professional, scanned each windowsill for signs of tampering. Dutch counted his paces, trying to hit another sconce every fifteen steps.
- "What's the rush, Turk? Those two are probably late again, anyway."
- "Punctuality is professionalism, something you are sorely lacking. Now are you doing this or should I?"
- "Depends, what was the password again?"
- "Damnit, Dutch."
- Dutch gave him another jab. "I'm just messing with ya. I got it."
- Dutch checked the lining of his jacket, pulling a small black slate out of an inside pocket. Small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, it displayed the floorplan of the mansion in the top half. The bottom half was currently blank. While Dutch fiddled with the device, Turk opened the door and carefully scanned the first-floor of the foyer. After making triply sure the room was empty, he glanced up the staircase and waved to the pair of guards on the second-floor balcony.
- Dutch's device shook for a moment as text appeared on the bottom screen.
- "F2A: Dovetail"
- Dutch grinned, giving the device a few taps to give a reply.
- "F1E: Snakeskin"
- Turk nodded as he exchanged another wave with the second-floor patrol, then shuffled into the foyer proper. Dutch followed along, closing the door behind him. One quick sweep confirmed Turk's initial assessment: no disturbances, no signs of entry, all clear.
- "C'mon Turk, drawing-room's up next. Can't I just sit for a bit?"
- "No, Dutch. This is a good line of work we're in." Turk straightened his beret again. "As your partner, and your friend, I'm not letting you ruin this for yourself."
- "Look, I'm not denying the pay is good. And between the magitek, the wards, and this baby...," He showed off the handheld again before stashing it back in his jacket. "The whole place practically guards itself. But these hours...and this schedule... it's ridiculous! The boss is paranoid."
- Turk gave a long sigh as he entered the drawing room, looking around to make sure it was empty before turning back to his partner. "Five minutes, and this better be the last I hear of it. And if I have to clean up any drool, you're covering my bartab for the next month."
- "Deal!" Dutch rubbed his hands together before pulling up a chair at the table. Just before faceplanting on the mahogany, he spied something out of the corner of his eye. "Hey, Turk, that's the sword from the West Gallery, yeah?"
- Turk looked over to the artifact on the credenza, a large broadsword covered in ebony spikes and rubies. "Yeah. The boss was showing it off to some guests this afternoon, so I'm told."
- "Cursed-lookin' junk. You couldn't pay me to lug that thing across the house."
- "Three minutes left, Dutch."
- "Geeze, alright."
- Dutch shut his eyes, trying to get in as much rest as possible before his partner would inevitably shake him awake. It was all for nothing, though, as less than a minute in he was awoken by a blaring klaxon.
- "The hell?"
- Turk flashed him his handheld. "Sensor tripped. East Gallery. Let's go."
- "Hold up." Dutch struggled to get back on his feet before Turk forcibly yanked him out of the chair.
- "I said, let's go!"
- The pair doubled-timed down the hall to the gallery, flipping on the lights as they went.
- "Turk, anyone find the break-in point?"
- "Hold on." He pulled out the handheld as he passed another sconce. "Window. Fourth-floor Ballroom."
- "Geeze, did they drop in above the wards or something?"
- "No idea. Not our problem."
- Dutch looked at the irons bars on the windows—conjured up moments ago by the magitek security system. "Well, he won't be leaving that way."
- Turk grabbed the handle to the gallery door, listening closely for any sounds coming from the other side. "Ready Dutch?" he whispered.
- Dutch pulled up the carbine strapped to his back, checking that it was loaded and ready fire. "Yeah, ready."
- Turk threw open the door, Dutch checking the entryway before rushing into the gallery proper. After a moments delay, he turned on the lights and gave a sigh of relief.
- "Looks clear to me...wait... basement door's open. Probably where he tripped it?"
- Turk followed his partner in, carbine at the ready, and took a look for himself. Sure enough, the door to the basement was wide open, just past an imposing set of blue armor and a collection of weapons from the Mist Continent.
- "Turk, you wanna go first? That place gives me the creeps."
- "No need." He flashed the handheld at his partner. "West Wing is secure, and patrol is sweeping the other hall." He paced over to the stairwell. "Protocol is we hit the 2nd floor guestrooms. Balcony access." He turned around to find Dutch inspecting the armor. "Now, damnit!"
- "Okay, geeze!"
- Alarm still blaring, the two took off. Up the stairs to the second-floor gallery, then back down across the hall, they rushed to the guestrooms. Halfway there, Turk spotted two silhouettes in the darkness.
- "Dovetail!" he called out.
- "Snakeskin!" came the reply.
- Turk drew closer, flipping on the lights so he could see his allies' red berets.
- "You're supposed to turn the lights on."
- "Sorry, Turk. You two find out what they took?"
- "Nah, French," Dutch chimed in. "Looks like some junk from the basement I—"
- "Dovetail! Dovetail!!" came a cry from the other end of the hall.
- "Snakeskin," the four guards responded together.
- "Took you two long enough," Turk nearly spat at the newcomers. "French, you and I'll watch the hall. The rest pick a door."
- With French and Turk watching either end of the hall, the four remaining guards stood at the doors of the easternmost rooms.
- "Weapons ready?"
- The four cocked their rifles, then Turk counted them in.
- "Three. Two. One. Go!"
- All at once, they kicked in the doors of their respective rooms and rushed inside, hastily checking all around. Bathrooms, closets, behind the beds.
- "All clear," Dutch called out. The other three gave similar responses, before moving on to the next set of rooms. As the four collected themselves, Turk repeated the countdown.
- "Three. Two. One. Go!"
- Again, the four men rushed in to their chosen rooms, throwing open closet doors and shower curtains. Again, nothing was found. Dutch checked the door to the balcony—still locked up by magic.
- There was only one set of rooms left. Still no word from 3rd or 4th floor. This had to be it. Turk started the countdown.
- "Three!"
- The hall seemed to crackle with electricity.
- "Two!"
- Dutch could have sworn he heard something on the other side of the door.
- "One!"
- He braced himself the best he could.
- "Go!!"
- At once, Dutch kicked down the door. "Freeze!" He aimed his carbine at the shadow on the opposite side of the room. "Don't move!" He flipped on the lights to get a better look at the intruder.
- They were a slender, lanky sort, clad in all black with some red fabric wrapped around the face. Like that, Dutch couldn't even tell if they were a man or a woman. They were fiddling with the door to the balcony, only to spin around, handgun drawn, when the door to the hall flew open. It was an impressive piece—as far as Dutch could tell—at least relative to what his boss had handed out. However, the barrel was shaking. The intruder was wide-eyed, and breathing heavily. Under their other arm was a small package, no bigger than an apple.
- "Easy, buddy," Dutch called out, still not lowering his gun. The other guards started to close in from each side, as Dutch carefully stepped through the doorframe. The intruder pushed himself further against the back wall, waving the gun around erratically, as their fingers seemed to struggle with finding the trigger.
- "Take it easy," Dutch kept saying. "No one needs to get hurt." He couldn't deny he had a soft side. The intruder looked a lot less threatening than he imagined—and the boss would be a lot happier with no collateral damage. They lowered their gun carefully as Dutch did the same, only for him to pull it back up again as the intruder suddenly gripped their forehead. They let out an odd sound, almost like a pained scream, as...to Dutch, it almost looked like some unseen force wrenched the hand away from their face, then turned them around to look him dead in the eye.
- The eye. The intruder's eyes were mismatched. The left one looked normal, but the right eye gave off an ominous red glow. The scream grew louder as the glow intensified, until...
- "Shit. Hit the deck!"
- Dutch and the others dove to the floor as a high-pitched whine echoed through the hall, louder than even the droning klaxon. A bright-red beam of light shot just over their heads, piercing through the edge of the doorframe and carving a path along the wall, right where Dutch stood a moment before. The intruder shuffled about in the room as Dutch and the others tried to get back on their feet. Another whine sounded out. Turk burst into the guestroom—Dutch and the others right behind him—only to find the intruder gone. Escaped. That second beam had cut right through the lock on the balcony door. Turk fished out his handheld, and with a few taps alerted the perimeter patrols.
- Dutch glanced at the clock on the nightstand, just beside the bed. 2:17. He grumbled. It was gonna be a long night.
- ***
- Running. Keep running. A siren blared, even louder than the klaxon, as the figure darted between garden hedges, keeping their distance from the scrambling guards as they worked their way to the fence. In the distance, they heard the barking of hounds. Running. Keep running.
- They came to the iron fence—much too tall to scale, even without the sharp protrusions on top. Once more, they began to frantically snap their fingers—tears welling up, pleading for things to work this time. Once more, they instead felt a sudden pressure build in their right eye. As the beam shot out for the third time now, a strange sensation gripped them, angling their neck, guiding the beam to carve out an opening in the bars. They stepped through and took off into the dark forest.
- They ran and ran and kept running. Even as the woods faded away. Even as they could no longer feel the ground beneath them. Even as the night sky, awash in the brilliant light of the stars, turned to black. They kept running as the world around them went dark. Darker. Yet Darker. They kept running.
- "Stop."
- They stopped. A familiar pressure gripped their face on either side. Two delicate hands. A small, grey body, stained all about by slick black splotches. Dark black hair. A grinning mouth, full of teeth. A single, large, red eye. Her.
- "Welcome back, boy."
- The man tried to pull away as the being ran her fingers about him, tugging away at the fabric of his mask. With one good pull, she stripped it down, unveiling a head of white hair.
- "I believe you have something for me."
- Without offering any resistance, the man let the small woman retrieve the package from under his arm. She walked off—no, rather she floated away—to her desk in a corner of the study. Yes, that's where he was: the study of her humble abode. The room was rather well lit in preparation for his return, with several fresh candles scattered about—the normal, non-ritualistic sort. Opposite her desk, past scattered stacks of dusty old books, was a large corkboard, strewn with papers and marked up will all manner of crests and symbols. From what he could tell, about half of the board's contents had been changed since he was last here. Another corner of the room revealed a sizable cabinet, full of countless artifacts—ancient scrolls, ceremonial daggers, catalysts used in various spells and rituals—at least that was what he had come to believe.
- Back at the desk, the girl retrieved an ebony knife and quickly cut through the outer bindings of the package, freeing the object inside. It was a small figurine, no larger than a pear. Carved out of a bizarre, black stone the man could not identify, it took the form of a frightening, horned beast. Intricately detailed, the statuette seemed to overflow with occult energies, even to those unversed in magicks of a bygone age. The girl turned the statuette over and over again in her hand before setting it down.
- "You've done well."
- She pushed off from her chair and floated back over to him, sharp teeth grinning ear-to-ear, and again they locked eyes. With a pinch of his cheeks, the man could only stand there motionlessly as a feeling of calmness raced through his body, whether he willed it or not. Her single eye gazed into his own pair: one blue, and one a familiar red.
- "Hmm. Seems I look as radiant as ever to you. Kiihihihihihihihihi!"
- She continued laughing as countless other eyes closed in on the man, tethered to her backside by sleek black tendrils. Or, rather the eyestalks seemed to come out of her tail, a large mass of black fur similar to her hair. In contrast to the dismal state of the study, the girl took great pride in her personal appearance, as well as that of her prized possessions. Of course, that included this unfortunate man.
- She released her grip on the man's cheeks as the eyestalks darted about, examining him from each angle. He felt a familiar anxiety stirring within him as the monstrous girl gazed on expectantly. Finally guessing at her meaning, the man hastily worked to remove his clothing of his own volition. Had she wished it, she could just as easily paralyze him once more with her gaze, then strip him down at her leisure. Of the two options, the man couldn't tell which would be more shameful. Even so, standing naked under the withering glare of countless eyes, the man couldn't deny his rising embarrassment, along with a shameful arousal that came with it.
- "What a perverted servant," the girl chided, with a laugh. "Are you so eager to defile me that you strip in my presence without a second thought?"
- Leaving her eyestalks to examine the multitude of scraps and bruises on the man's legs—along with the condition of the various tattoos adorning his limbs and backside—the girl floated over and grabbed him by the wrist of his left hand. The man's heart raced as her lithe fingers danced around his palm. Then she moved up his hand before snatching the pair of rings off his index and middle fingers.
- "Did cutting your gloves as you desired aid you in using these relics?"
- "It...they...y..."
- "Calm yourself and speak, boy."
- "I couldn't...they stopped working and—"
- "Enough." Her large eye narrowed. "Conversing with you is pointless when I have you in this state."
- She giggled as she released his arm, floating back a measure while running the rings over in her hand. "Spell Break and Mana Shot. Five uses. I warned you it was a shared mana pool. Or is counting too much for your human brain?"
- The man tried to look away, only to spot one of the girl's eyestalks staring directly at his crotch. "I...uh...it..."
- "You were far too wasteful at the start, you didn't need eyes like mine to see what would happen."
- The man gulped, unable to deny her words. He knew he was wasteful, and cowardly, relying on those spells even for things he could deal with on his own. He...he...his thoughts trailed off as the tendril twisted about his leg, brushing against his thigh while trying to get a better look. The eye seemed to narrow, as if amused by the effect its actions had on the man.
- "Even so," the girl smirked, continuing as if entirely unaware of what her own stalks were up to, "it was almost too funny, watching you fumble about with that lock. You should be thankful I lent you a sliver of my power in your time of need. Even with an iota of tact and a modicum of self-control, that ring would have conjured but a paltry imitation of my strength."
- The man kept mumbling as a second eye drew just inches away from his member.
- "Well, did you enjoy it? That power?"
- "P...p-pain," was all the man could manage between uneasy breathes.
- The girl's expression soured. "I figured as much. Had I not exerted some more direct control, you would have never cut those bars in a single burst." She reached out and touched a finger to the man's chest, tracing upwards with an upturned palm. "Perhaps..."
- Immediately, his gaze snapped away from the voyeuristic eyes to focus on the new, chilling sensation of her fingertip. That tantalizing instrument, coated in an inky black substance. He couldn't help but shiver as it left behind a glossy residue wherever it touched.
- "Yes. Perhaps you are in need of further enhancements." Somehow her grin grew wider as she pressed down harder against him, eliciting a slight wince. "Kiihihihihihihihihi. Perhaps that would be best."
- She withdrew her finger and eyestalks from the man, and floated over back to her desk. Picking up the statuette, she examined it more closely, now using her other eyes to peek at the intricate details.
- "Are you curious? It's a Statue of Wisdom, or at least a fragment of one. Hopefully." She giggled. "I won't know for sure until I have the full set." She floated across the room to the cabinet, and placed her prize on one of the upper shelves, besides several similar-looking figurines. "Good job."
- The man struggled to process her words, still reeling from her teases. The ooze on his chest seemed to wiggle and squirm slightly. Imperceptibly even, as if taunting him with whether it was really happening. A slow, forced exhalation reminded his lungs of their function. The bizarre, crawling sensation faded, as quickly as it began, and the man suddenly found himself able to breath freely. He turned to the girl, thoughts finally catching up with those words she said hours ago—minutes, seconds? His expression hardened. Heart pounding, he spoke up.
- "All that and...we don't...even know if it's real?"
- There was no reply.
- "Hey. Hey! Don't you ignore me! I almost died and all you can say is—"
- "Hold your tongue, insect," she fired back, not even turning one of her eyes about to face him. "You did well, considering the state I put you in. Perhaps a bit more tweaking to make you use that head of your's instead of wasting magic." She turned back and grinned. "Also, no one would be intimidated if you wave a gun around like that—even if you could actually fire it. Consider yourself fortunate that one guard was a colossal softie."
- "Shut up! I've had enough of your tweaking and controls! I've had enough of being your errand boy! I've had enough of carrying a gun I can't use! And I've had enough of you!"
- The man grabbed the gun out of the pile of his belongings and tried his best to aim it at her.
- No.You cannot. You can't use it. Stop.
- He could not line up a shot.
- Stop. You cannot do it. No. Impossible.
- His wrists locked-up, his arm froze, and his fingers couldn't even locate the trigger.
- No. Stop. Do not. You can't.
- You cannot fire this with any doubts.
- You may not harm me in any way.
- And if you try either, you will remember that it is not even loaded.
- Her words, deeply ingrained through her dark powers as a monster, echoed over and over in the man's head, even as the girl herself stayed silent. Floating a ways away from him, grinning as usual, she watched his struggles, offering a giggle now and again. In time, the man's fingers slipped off the pistol, one by one, until the armament harmlessly fell to the ground with a thud.
- "Are you finished?"
- The girl's expression contorted into a devious smirk as her large, red eye pulsed menacingly—black pupil contracting into a thin slit. At once, she turned all of her eyes upon him. Several high-pitched whines sounded as beams of light shot across the room, striking the man and forcing him to his knees. He was uninjured, but he felt a searing heat seize him as he struggled to move a single muscle.
- "Kiihihihihihihihihi. Kyehehehehehehehehe!" The she-devil drew closer, cackling madly. "Charm. Greater paralysis. Fear." She looked him right in the eyes as she continued listing off spells. "Harden. Greater Harden. Greater enhance stamina. Greater enhance libido." A slimy, pink tongue teased out between her incisors, dripping saliva on the floor below, before swiftly retracting. "Greater Charm. Greater Fear. Greater enhance sensitivity." She narrowed her main eye, basking in the lascivious atmosphere as she let the stalks admire her handiwork. It was a brief pause before announcing the pièce de résistance, already administered. "Forbidden Art - Evil Eye: Entrancement of Red Eyes."
- Unable to move, scarcely able to think, the man could only sit there, on his knees, watching her exhaustively name everything she had done to him. A list of afflictions, dealt out literally in the blink of an eye. Although cast simultaneously, the spells affected him at different rates and in different measures. The fear got to him first, his mind imagining all manner of horrors yet to come. Then came the sensitivity, as the crawling sensation returned to his chest and he became distinctly aware of a chilling draft in the study. But slowly, with each word she uttered, the surrounding world slipped away, and it became harder and harder for him to think at all. Such was the nature of her powerful magic, that by the end of her list, the fog ensnaring his mind had become almost impenetrable. Of the few sensations he still felt, there was, firstly, his painfully hard manhood—oozing with pre-ejaculate, depsite the lack of any direct stimulation. Beyond that was the pounding of his heart, forcing every bit of his being into that ever stiffening obelisk. And beyond that was her. Only her. Tormentor. Protector. Abuser. Counselor. Mistress. Lover. Only her.
- Planting both feet firmly on the ground, she smiled once more—putting her razor sharp teeth on full display. "Get ready, insect." She lifted one leg up and planted her toes against his mouth, increasing the pressure little by little. "I'm going to break you, ruin you, ravage you, and rape you." Pushing harder, she forced the man to lie down on his back—arms at his sides, legs stretched out naturally. She then cocked her head to the side, letting her tongue hang out and spilling a few drops of saliva on the man's chest. "I'm going to drain you completely dry!"
- She stood over him, aligning her opening with his shaft. Two eyestalks turned back on her, blasting her with her own magic. Her central eye rolled backwards in her head as her face contorted in bliss, and a lewd fluid began to drip from the inviting hole. Stalks lined up on either side to confirm the alignment and watch the insertion. The central eye turned back down, focusing on the man's blissful expression.
- And then she dropped.
- With a gasp and a wince, the man exploded immediately. She could only cackle in delight as shot after shot of thick male essence flooded into her depths at the very moment of insertion.
- "What an incredibly weak man! Cumming immediately like that! Kiihihihihi!" She started bouncing up and down on his dick, forcing it to stiffen while it was still inside her. "What? So sensitive? Hurry up and get hard again! Kyehehehehe!"
- Still wrapped in that fog, the man showed little outward expression of the horror that wracked his body. Such a mess of curses and effects, occasionally something would get through. A bolt of lightning, arcing through the clouds. A flash of pain and a wince. A numbed synapse suddenly regaining lucidity, immediately assaulted by overwhelming stimulii. Then a fade. A dull, distant ache of pleasure.
- She mocked his slack expression as her monstrous instrument milked another shot out of him. "Do you know how pitiful you look right now? That eye only shows me what you see, not the other way around." She laughed, feeling his member harden once again. "You'll blow again soon enough, not that you can tell. Do you enjoy cumming without feeling an orgasm?"
- "Uuhh—AH!" came the response, interrupted as a particularly vigorous slam of the hips parted the fog for but a moment. The sound of wet flesh, slapping together, echoed through the study.
- "You're twitching quite a bit," she teased. "I know you can't feel it, but you're so very close. Ha!" She gave another forceful slam of her hips, throwing her head back and basking in the pleasure of his reflexive spasms, deep inside of her. "Should I show you? Should I let you feel what comes next?" She flashed another devilish grin, neither needing nor caring for a response.
- "O lamentable mortal, sing my praises as you reflect on your impudence." Her eyes flashed, dispelling the hexes of her choosing. "Scream for me!"
- He screamed. He shrieked and wailed as she started twisting her waist, forcing an incredibly painful pleasure through his most vulnerable areas. Stripped of that numbing entrancement, immediately forced into a powerful orgasm, and subsequently assaulted during the sensitive refractory period—a sensitivity driven to maddening heights by those curses still in effect. Of course he screamed. She laughed and he screamed. Still paralyzed, he could do little else but writhe in horrific pleasure. He could neither buck, nor squirm, nor recoil in pain. Nor could he move his hips and seek this pleasure as he wished, even as his strained member pulsed and ached. She continued to twist and turn and bounce and dance and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh, even as her prey screamed for mercy, and for release. Eyestalks gathered around, examining the man's distress from every angle. She held total control over him, and she reveled in it.
- "Cum," she commanded with a flash of her eyes.
- And he obeyed. Another eruption wracked the man's senses, and his lungs seized up. The scream halted, and he began to cry.
- Hot tears streamed down the man's cheeks. The girl continued to ride his motionless body, but his weeping form deeply moved her, and she started to slow down. Halting her hips, she brought her bare chest down to rest against his, feeling his warmth. Somewhat reluctantly, she allowed him to slip out of her depths, raising her hips in the air before bringing them down gently on his abdomen, freeing herself to slide around along his body as she pleased. Her soft tail draped itself over his member, providing a soothing comfort to the battered instrument. And with the angling of her movements she let his sensitive nipples brush against her own, goo-stained nubs. At last finding a comfortable position, she wrapped her arms around his chest, and brought her cheek to rest just below his shoulder. With a soft smile, she leaned in to plant a kiss on his neck.
- That gentle peck bringing her just a tad closer, the man strained his eyes, trying to glimpse her properly. He picked up on the faint scent of her hair—indescribable, unplaceable and yet singularly familiar. Had he not been paralyzed—had her hug not trapped his arms against her own—he would have reached over to drape that hair over his face, and breath deeply of that comforting scent. He could feel her warmth. The rising and falling of her chest taught him how to breath again, and his frantically beating heart slowed down to synch with his beloved.
- She drew away from the kiss on his neck, and turned to face him. Gazing into her wondrous, deep-red eye filled him with calm and adoration, overwriting the fear he felt just moments earlier. No, that wasn't quite right. The fear was still there, blending in with his love and admiration—driving him closer to her.
- "That was your punishment," she whispered. "And this is your reward."
- She pressed her lips against his own. With a flash from her eyestalks, the man felt a degree of control return to him. He instinctively wrapped his arms about the girl, feeling the changing textures between her grey skin and the inky-black coating. Her body shifted, moving in response to his touch, and with each movement her soft tail brushed against his battle-worn member.
- The deep kiss progressed, the girl's skillful tongue snaking between the man's teeth, the occasional prod granting him an odd, teasingly pleasant feeling. Then she found his own tongue, and began her assault in earnest. Hopelessly shy, the man could do little to resist as she played around in his mouth however she pleased. Like this, he was a coward, a weakling, and a fool, but he was useful to her. And...
- The kiss had its desired effect, an eyestalk gazing intently as the man's staff rose back up. Another stalk confirmed the results: standing at attention, battle-ready once more. She released him from the kiss, brushing a hand through his hair before withdrawing her arms and then standing back up. Looming over him, she saw the fear and love spark and dance in his eyes—sparkling blue and that treasured, gleaming red.
- "What comes next?" she asked. "A special gift from you to me." She squatted down, pressing her opening against his rod, and spread her countless eyestalks out behind her. "Prepare yourself, my cute little worm." The pupil of her center eye narrowed ominously as she once more flashed a manic smile. "Kyehehehehehehehehe! You won't be getting another break!"
- And then she dropped.
- ***
- A familiar stillness hung over the bedroom, lit only by dim, blue candlelight. It was morning, at least he thought it was morning. This room had no windows, so there was no way to be certain. He considered it morning anytime he woke up in this room. This was his first morning in at least a week.
- As usual, he awoke with a clear head, absent all the noise and static, fear and anxiety that regularly plagued him day in and day out. True to her word, she had drained him completely dry.
- The man calmly scanned the room. As expected, it was in much the same state as always. The bedroom was clean and well furnished, with no absence of proper accomodations. A neat and organized dresser, full of comfortable clothes, sat opposite the bed. The wall across from the door had a bookshelf, wherein were stored a number of novels, magical tomes, and a few self-help books. One of the latter had found its way to the bedside table, beside the candelabra. There were also some pamphlets from the Erotist Church—glossy pink paper with fancy blue script.
- The man rolled across the bed and picked up one of these pamhplets, quickly scanning it before setting it back down. He then picked up the book and flipped it open to a marked page. The spine shimmered with runes as the candles adjusted to an appropriate light level for reading. It was automatic, to help preserve eye-sight.
- After stoically reading through a few pages, the man grew bored and set the book back down. He rolled out of bed and waited as more candles flared up, fully illuminating the room in an otherworldly blue. Ignoring the set of clothes neatly folded on top of the dresser, the man instead went straight for the door to the hall. After that, he made his way back to the study, a path he could walk even with his eyes closed. Almost ironically, that was very much the case, as the rest of her humble abode wasn't nearly as well lit as his bedroom.
- The door to the study opened with a creak, just loud enough to gain the attention of the busy Gazer hunched over her desk. Her back to the door, two stalks turned in the direction of the doorway. After confirming the intruder's identify, the eyes of the stalks narrowed before closing completely and retreating back into her unkempt tail. For her part, the Gazer made a small yawn as she poured over some grimoire or another, then shifted her attention to a large artifact of some sort—a fragment of glass, contoured as if once a part of an enormous crystal sphere.
- Without waiting for a more direct invitation, the man stepped inside the study, as dusty and disheveled as ever. Spying a familiar shape atop a nearby stack of books, he effortlessly picked up the handgun, held the cold steel barrel against his temple, and pulled the trigger. He didn't flinch—he didn't even blink as a hollow click echoed through the mechanism.
- The girl looked up for a moment, glancing over to him with a tired eye. Her stalks—only five right now—remained trained on the relic in front of her. "Must you go so far to mock me?" she asked softly.
- The man silently turned the gun on her and pulled the trigger a second time.
- She sighed. "I can't bear to look at you...when you're like this." She turned back to her work. "I am sorry."
- "I love you." He pulled the trigger once more.
- "Don't say that if you don't mean it."
- "Why wouldn't I mean it?"
- The girl sighed again. She knew he didn't mean it. It was the same as always. Ever since they first met—when she first found him broken, beaten, missing an eye, and totally awash in a sea of anxiety—she had noticed this paradox. With her powers, she ingrained her own presence deep within his psyche as a beacon of hope, to calm him so that he could be of use to her.
- And yet, when there came the impulse, instilled by the current Overlord, to better him—to make him hers, and her his—she found it impossible. Fear drove his adoration for her. To heal this man, and do away with the plague of fear, was to sever their bond completely. That magnificent red eye she granted him—that sparkling jewel far more brilliant than any ring he could reciprocate—grew dim as his will grew stronger and more independent. The distance between them—between the pitiful man and the proud Gazer that helped him—had become like the distance between heaven and earth.
- This would fade, of course. The old malady would be resurrected, and his mind would once more be plagued. That would in turn drive him back to her—his precious ward against a powerful curse. It was then she could feel his love most strongly. Time and again, he would go forth on her behalf, completing dangerous tasks one after another. And yet, his was still a pitiful existence. And so...and she would...and he would...and then...and so on...
- Another click from the gun shook her out of deep reflection.
- "You seem troubled." The man spoke plainly, as she had come to expect when he was in this state.
- "Do not pretend to care. Come back when you are no longer a stranger."
- He grinned ever so slightly, such that even a Gazer could scarcely notice. "You say I'm a stranger, but it seems it's only on these mornings that we can speak openly."
- "It's... it's past noon."
- "You should get a window. Are you afraid I'd climb right out of one?"
- The girl almost had to turn around and let all her eyes see this man's face. Was he joking? Had he the capacity to do so? She could feel a blush growing. This man... over the years had her wicked stylings rubbed off on him?
- "You're hesitating. I think you actually love me like this." His words, said so nonchalantly, like colleagues discussing the weather, continued to cut deep. "Otherwise, you would have broken me completely long ago."
- "I..." She wanted to run away, to avoid this painful confrontation. All her instincts as a Gazer—as a powerful and cruel monster known for dominating the minds of others—told her to reject such accusations. Yes, she could break him, easily. His will would crumble soon enough, and then her power could reduce him to a doting slave permanently. And yet...
- "Living only for the sake of survival. To see the next sunrise and nothing more. Those were your words, right?"
- Of course they were. Neither of them could forget their first meeting.
- "Only now, it's you doing that for me." He stood up, approaching the cabinet with all the relics he had acquired for her. "Ensuring I return safely and unharmed. Loving me, but not suffocating me with love. That way, we could stay safe, and our bond would remain as it is now. A proper desire for a Monster in the present age."
- "Don't lecture me, human. I have lived your lifetime several-fold." A chill ran down her spine. She was shaking.
- "This way of thinking is wrong." He reached over and dragged his fingers along the upper shelf, adorned by those figurines—Statues of Wisdom—he had gathered over the years, feeling the dust collect under his fingertips. "It prevents us from growing. It prevents our bond from progressing any further than here." He turned around and showed her his open palm—with all the filth that had collected. "We have become stagnant. A dull blade collecting dust. A holstered gun with an empty chamber."
- She scowled at him. His words were without anger. Perfectly calm—some would say mocking. She expected coldness and indifference, but never did she imagine that somehow, in trying to teach that spineless man a fraction of courage, that his unfettered self would gain some measure of cruelty. "Then...then..." She stammered, trying to collect herself, as she gauged his intentions and plotted her response.
- One tendril after another emerged from her tail as she rose into the air. Her sharp, toothy grin returned, and she regained her devilish demeanor. "Then shall I break down your arrogance, here and now, as you wish? Shall I leave you grovelling before me, and lapping at my feet? Or shall I drive you out and seek love in the arms of another?" She forced a giggle at the suggestion. "Could your heart withstand it? Being abandoned after all this time?"
- The man didn't move. He didn't even blink. Was he calling her bluff? The girl's tendrils fanned out—searching, seeking any indication that this was the last gasps of madness before her doting, loyal subject returned in earnest. And yet, he was calm. Perfectly, inhumanly calm. His chest raised and lowerd naturally and unburdened. No sweat glistened his brow. No fear lingered in his eyes. Yes, those eyes—red and blue—now held a spark she had not seen in a long time. And through that treasured red eye, through a bond she thought would remain dormant for now, with him as he was, she could see herself. Her magnificent visage was ablaze, even in the darkened study, and the countless eyes now radiated that very same enchanting spark.
- At some point, and without her notice, the stagnant air of the study was driven out. Now there hung a certain magic, electrifying and intense. Rather than fear over the man in front of her, or sorrow over what was in the past, she could only feel anticipation for what would come next. This was it! This was the starting point!
- "Speak, mortal!" she commanded. "Speak your desire!"
- The man faintly grinned. "Show me a terror worthy of that infamous rogue. Show me a demon befitting that wretched cur."
- His dispassionate incantation did nothing to subdue the flames he'd been fanning. Understandable, reciting his mistress's favored invocation.
- "Kiihihihihihihihihi! Kyehehehehehehehehe! As you wish." Her central pupil narrowed into a slit, as the study rumbled and shook with dark and powerful energies. Candles flared, papers swirled around, and the figurines danced about on their shelf. She would never let him pull out now, not even if he begged.
- "A hell to conquer! A crown to take! For the Grimseeker Redeye—and her trusted servant—shall go forth!"
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