There it was… the moment had come, sweet and tortured in its fateful inception, yet incomparable in its grace and magnitude. With but three simple words, Shiress had enshrined and cemented their destinies together, and now there was no turning back, no hope of escaping it. There was only the two of them, so close now, and bound tighter still by whatever undeniable force deemed them united and inseparable despite all common sense demanding otherwise. Whether that force was more than just mind numbing lust and the machinations of a scarred fool, Elias was still unsure. There was a great deal of things the pale swordsman was still unsure of truth be told, but now that number was reduced by one, for tonight the Caldera found he had never been more certain of a thing in his life than he was at that moment.
Shiress… was his now.
The slave had suffered the lash for him, lied for him, bled for him, killed for him… loved him… and now, perhaps most damning of all; she’d forgiven him. With her acceptance -her kiss- she’d embraced his truth and come to know it as her own. Not because she unquestioningly believed it out of cruel necessity or its ineluctable nature. No, she trusted Elias because she wanted to, because she’d chosen to. That kind of power was exactly what he hoped to wrest from her dazed and magically addled mine. To do that however, he had needed to bring her to the edge, to make her suffer the extreme so that the power and will of hers long since drowned out by the power and will of the six armed witch would find need to breach the water’s surface and drink deep the stirring air of desperation once more.
Conflict would be Shiress’s crucible, it seemed. He had realized that at the market amidst the bedlam and bloodshed, and now, in this dirty, nameless alley, he had put that to the ultimate test. He’d made her suffer and obey him like a slave, daring the girl to defy his vile voracity, and in the end, it had worked.
The slave suffered. The slave obeyed. But Shiress, the woman trapped beneath the weak and wretched creature that wore her face, she was something else entirely, and now she was free. Liberated at long last, the soldier who’d pulled her from the miasma of doubt and desiccating obligation to one unfit to its splendor was now eager to bare witness to wings unfurling in blinding beauty, and the glorious accent that would soon follow.
Unfortunately, even to those creatures born with it, flight did not come easily at first, nor was it always without its price. Yet, as he stared into the emerald eyes gazing hopelessly up at him, the stryfer swore if she could not fly, then he would be the wind beneath her wings. For as long as she needed, Elias would make certain Shiress never failed to soar, no matter the cost.
“You are right to be afraid.” He whispered, the iron tang of his sundered lip all but forgotten beneath the swirl of her tongue upon his. “Those who would see you undone are mighty and merciless. Their power surpasses yours and only magnifies your plight. You will never know peace until they are brought low…” He cupped her chin, his certitude and vigor restored with her expecting look. He meant to make it infectious. “So you will bring them low!”
“If you are tired of fear’s restraint as much as you are the iron shackles of your servitude, then do not let either contain you any longer. Use that fear, Shiress. Harness it! Your hatred and loathing are weapons unparalleled. Wield them!”
Then like that, the two were lost in another kiss. Tender, yet passionate and fueled by pure desire, Elias locked them in another tumultuous duel of lips and longing that only broke when his ravenous fervor sought out the curves of her neck next. Svelte and provocative with the racing rhythm of her heart, he kissed her there over and over, only interrupting his rapacious work with words he hoped would take root as thoroughly as hers had in him. “I will make you strong.” He growled between smacking lips and grazing tongue strikes, “I will make you mighty.” His ruinous touch had found her collarbone now. “I will reveal the power you deny yourself. The strength you cannot fathom raging within. Before long you will be its master, not just its helpless warden, and you will learn to revel in it as I do.” He looked up at her then, harsh eyes made soft and cool in the dim firelight. There was something else though, a devilish glint perhaps as their gazes met. He was watching her watch him as his trailing touch slowly, salaciously, began to descend its way down the contours of her heaving chest until at last his wicked tongue fell upon her breasts.
He took her in his mouth, sucking and licking wistfully as his hand set to work toying with those parts the Zeltivan maiden might have thought safe from his mischievous fingers. “We will forge a path together, Shiress, you and I, as one. And at its end there will lie your enemies -our enemies- shattered and surrendered, on their knees and begging for your mercy.” The swordsman was now kneeling before his woman, hands lifting at her dress to reveal the destination of his long and tantalizing descent down her body. His relentless reach found her leg, tugging at it demandingly until long, slender form rose to meet him. His lips set to work upon the smooth flesh immediately, seeking out the silvery etchings of the strange mark that emanated the power of the divine. The gods mattered little to him at that moment however, and it wasn’t long until Shiress’s leg was hoisted over her soldier’s shoulder and his luscious journey continued up her thigh and further still.
Her found her core wet and wanting, and as his lips drew near, the scent became heady and intoxicating, his staggered breath hot upon the prize he had so diligently pursued. He hesitated however, demanding diligence of himself as he struggled to tear his gaze away and instead fling it upwards towards the deep green orbs he expected to be looking back down at him expectantly.
"And here is your first lesson," he whispered, breaths deep and laborious as his hand reached out for hers and took it. "What we want..." He slowly placed her grip at the back of his head,
"We take."
Shiress… was his now.
The slave had suffered the lash for him, lied for him, bled for him, killed for him… loved him… and now, perhaps most damning of all; she’d forgiven him. With her acceptance -her kiss- she’d embraced his truth and come to know it as her own. Not because she unquestioningly believed it out of cruel necessity or its ineluctable nature. No, she trusted Elias because she wanted to, because she’d chosen to. That kind of power was exactly what he hoped to wrest from her dazed and magically addled mine. To do that however, he had needed to bring her to the edge, to make her suffer the extreme so that the power and will of hers long since drowned out by the power and will of the six armed witch would find need to breach the water’s surface and drink deep the stirring air of desperation once more.
Conflict would be Shiress’s crucible, it seemed. He had realized that at the market amidst the bedlam and bloodshed, and now, in this dirty, nameless alley, he had put that to the ultimate test. He’d made her suffer and obey him like a slave, daring the girl to defy his vile voracity, and in the end, it had worked.
The slave suffered. The slave obeyed. But Shiress, the woman trapped beneath the weak and wretched creature that wore her face, she was something else entirely, and now she was free. Liberated at long last, the soldier who’d pulled her from the miasma of doubt and desiccating obligation to one unfit to its splendor was now eager to bare witness to wings unfurling in blinding beauty, and the glorious accent that would soon follow.
Unfortunately, even to those creatures born with it, flight did not come easily at first, nor was it always without its price. Yet, as he stared into the emerald eyes gazing hopelessly up at him, the stryfer swore if she could not fly, then he would be the wind beneath her wings. For as long as she needed, Elias would make certain Shiress never failed to soar, no matter the cost.
“You are right to be afraid.” He whispered, the iron tang of his sundered lip all but forgotten beneath the swirl of her tongue upon his. “Those who would see you undone are mighty and merciless. Their power surpasses yours and only magnifies your plight. You will never know peace until they are brought low…” He cupped her chin, his certitude and vigor restored with her expecting look. He meant to make it infectious. “So you will bring them low!”
“If you are tired of fear’s restraint as much as you are the iron shackles of your servitude, then do not let either contain you any longer. Use that fear, Shiress. Harness it! Your hatred and loathing are weapons unparalleled. Wield them!”
Then like that, the two were lost in another kiss. Tender, yet passionate and fueled by pure desire, Elias locked them in another tumultuous duel of lips and longing that only broke when his ravenous fervor sought out the curves of her neck next. Svelte and provocative with the racing rhythm of her heart, he kissed her there over and over, only interrupting his rapacious work with words he hoped would take root as thoroughly as hers had in him. “I will make you strong.” He growled between smacking lips and grazing tongue strikes, “I will make you mighty.” His ruinous touch had found her collarbone now. “I will reveal the power you deny yourself. The strength you cannot fathom raging within. Before long you will be its master, not just its helpless warden, and you will learn to revel in it as I do.” He looked up at her then, harsh eyes made soft and cool in the dim firelight. There was something else though, a devilish glint perhaps as their gazes met. He was watching her watch him as his trailing touch slowly, salaciously, began to descend its way down the contours of her heaving chest until at last his wicked tongue fell upon her breasts.
He took her in his mouth, sucking and licking wistfully as his hand set to work toying with those parts the Zeltivan maiden might have thought safe from his mischievous fingers. “We will forge a path together, Shiress, you and I, as one. And at its end there will lie your enemies -our enemies- shattered and surrendered, on their knees and begging for your mercy.” The swordsman was now kneeling before his woman, hands lifting at her dress to reveal the destination of his long and tantalizing descent down her body. His relentless reach found her leg, tugging at it demandingly until long, slender form rose to meet him. His lips set to work upon the smooth flesh immediately, seeking out the silvery etchings of the strange mark that emanated the power of the divine. The gods mattered little to him at that moment however, and it wasn’t long until Shiress’s leg was hoisted over her soldier’s shoulder and his luscious journey continued up her thigh and further still.
Her found her core wet and wanting, and as his lips drew near, the scent became heady and intoxicating, his staggered breath hot upon the prize he had so diligently pursued. He hesitated however, demanding diligence of himself as he struggled to tear his gaze away and instead fling it upwards towards the deep green orbs he expected to be looking back down at him expectantly.
"And here is your first lesson," he whispered, breaths deep and laborious as his hand reached out for hers and took it. "What we want..." He slowly placed her grip at the back of his head,
"We take."
