What the Tide brings (Liandra)

[Wrenmae]

Spring 95, 511 AV

The Wretched Sprite rocked against the waves of the Suvan. Such a small thing of wood and human effort, it was incredible how easily it thwarted the nature of the water, the hunger of the sea tossing against them with each sway and turn. Strong voiced sailors caught the ropes and directed the wooden beast from swell to swell, breathing the salt air and chanting songs of seaward travel.

They were gods among the commoners, masters here where they would have otherwise sunk. To them, Wrenmae was little more than a barnacle on the inside of the ship, a barely tolerable coin cow sitting in a room to his lonesome.

He had been on the deck before, watching the waves toss themselves against the ship, beating against the floating coffin. His first time abreast on the waves and with no land in sight his stomach felt...nauseous.

The sailors had showed him what he could learn, barely, the knots that held the rigging, starboard and port, some basic ship terminology and how the wheel turns the rudder, directs the boat.

Wrenmae had taken what he could from that, retreating with his helping of fish to his own room. His things, packed still in crates for the journey, seemed to mock him with a sense of wandering. He had no home anymore, no sense of clear life. His dreams had taught him that there was darkness inside him, the potential to be everything Vayt had wanted. Perhaps the god had seen that, the ability to inflict pain and manipulate in the small freezing boy.

Maybe he just guessed.

It had been years since he'd seen the god, but remembered his face from his own dreams. It was always clear to him, the coat of fox fur and a wreathe of pipe smoke framing his handsome face. How could someone look so charming and be so cruel? So vicious?

Holding out his hands, Wrenmae focused on them. If the boat were to sink, were to capsize and spiral to the depths, he would need some manner of salvation...and that question was answered by his food. Fish had no trouble in the dark waters of below, they breathed it...the gills of them.

Staring at the cooked fish, Wrenmae started with just the scales, memorizing their flaky hardness, the way they ridged so completely. Rubbing them the wrong way raised them like tiny spears but to caress the right way meant smooth bumps.

He pulled the Djed of his body to the surface of his skin, concentrating on his arms first. Isolating skin, hardening it, layering a pattern, it was all very difficult, like drawing a tapestry. His fist few attempts did little more than raise the skin, separate it, even layer it, but there was no sense of the hardness or the separation of scales themselves. Trying again he bent his mind to the effort, as Seidaku would say...practicing ones art made it more controllable, less spontaneous, more an asset and less a liability.

Raising the Djed from his hands again, Wrenmae focused on the application of how the scales would feel, rough and metallic, like metal shavings from a blade. His skin rippled, reformed and restitched...a light pattern of scales running across the back of his arm before shifting back into unmarred skin again.

Wrenmae breathed, not quite done with his own personal lesson, closing his eyes.

Something was wrong, the sickening feeling that the room was not the same when he closed his eyes washed over him...the wild rocking of the open seas had ceased, a quieter bobbing replacing the tumultuous land before. Stumbling out of his room, scales flipping back to unmarred skin, Wrenmae dared to glance over the railing of the ship, expecting the dark of sea to greet him, foaming with anger. Instead the alabaster sands of a small island, the hush of palm fronds swaying in a temperate wind.

It was a welcome sight for the storyteller, welcome enough to motivate a quick descent to the beach. The sailors were repairing the rudder, some small part of the ship that was vastly important to its direction. The rudder, apparently, directed the boat across Laviku's great back while the sails caught Zulrav's breath.

All in all, ships were very reliant on the gods and the elements to ferry them safely over treacherous waters...not something Wrenmae put much stock in.

Given the opportunity, he was glad to take his meandering to the far side of the island, back against the rough trunk of a palm tree and a book on his lap. Take a page from it, Wrenmae stenciled lines across the page, designs of sweeping circles and incomplete angles. A glyph must feel, must act as the river by which the water of Djed may flow. It was tough work, drawing the lines and working by instinct, but Seidaku had been strict to instruct the details and Wrenmae couldn't be pressed to ignore it.

As the lines met, black to black in sweeping circular complexities, Wrenmae channeled the energy of Djed through the design. It was the Void he called to, that point of black which widened into existence over the paper. It never appeared, only widened, as if the Void itself lay between reality so finely layered, one might never know it.

The black was complete, a single point of nothingness no bigger than a miza. Wrenmae stared at it, but mostly into it, beyond it. What lay within the Void? What forgotten relics and strange conundrums?

He was devoid, completely defenseless, lulled into complacency by the tropical sun and the sound of gentle waves on the beach. Here, on this side of the island, he was alone. The ship dominated the skyline, a distance away but not far enough that the rowdy cries of sailors did not drift through the trees.

Wrenmae put it out of his mind, concentrated.

To truly harness the Void, he would need to put such brash merrymaking out of his mind.

[Liandra]

Liandra was floating on her back, being carried by the surf like a babe being coddled by it's mother. Laviku was being kind today. It wasn't often Liandra was alone, usually because she got herself into some sort of trouble. But for now Kylayia was off looking for food. The tropical grace of Syna's smile was beginning to fade behind some far off unnamed mountain or other, but her light still cast a multicolored glow over Laviku's whispers. She had stowed away her swimwear, enjoying the caresses of Laviku upon her skin. It had been awhile since the two had met as lovers would, but Liandra didn't often have the luxury of relaxing at sea. She laid there, floating along the surface, as she closed her eyes. She felt the water splashing up around her. The tides were lightly tossing and pulling her around, when she could hear several small swooshes zooming beneath her. She smiled, she knew that sound belonged to several small fish. She heard a slightly similar sound, then felt several droplets fall upon her bare chest. In a bare whisper, "Zulrav, please, please, please don't unleash your storms right now. Hold them off for a bit, and I swear to endure the toughest you can throw at me." She then opened her eyes and thanked Zulrav. The droplets were falling from several fish leaping over her. They looked like a swarm of stiletto knives flying by. She smiled brightly upwards, so far today was going great. She could feel the tide changing a bit, and the way it was tugging at her, she knew it was a beach. She tilted her head back and saw a small isle that she as drifting toward. There were a few trees and she knew this was not a good coral area so she decided to just drift into the sand. As her body slid up the wet sand, she relaxed. It had been too long since she had taken a break from just surviving, or from the efforts that came from exploring. She laid there just enjoying the feel of sand on her back and the sound of the surf splashing up her legs. She turned her head to the side and saw a man sitting up against a tree. She smiled as she watched him. He was busy scribbling in a book and playing with his hands. She thought he looked too serious, and her good mood was overflowing. She had to share it with him. To her left she saw a vine creeping down the sea, and it was blooming with several bright orange flowers. She plucked one off and stood up. She began walking over to the serious looking man, not paying any mind that her clothing was in her pack that laid on the beach behind. She twirled the flower between her fingers, and let it go. It spun, and floated through the air, falling towards his lap. "A smile wouldn't hurt now would it?"

[Wrenmae]

For a mage, concentration is everything. Holding such powerful forces, fueled by Djed, precipetous moments are held by the thin gossamer thread of mind. Wrenmae held himself on the edge of this focus, channeling the Void through a glyph on an open page.

But of course, one can hardly expect to keep such keen concentration when an acquatic, naked, woman walks out of the surf and spins a flower onto your lap.

To its credit, the flower made it far. He was only just glancing up as the blossom was sucked into the singular point of darkness above his hands, gone to some unknown, floating in the nothingness beyond. Of course, that was the last action it made, as when Wrenmae followed the trajectory of the blossom his eyes settled on Liandra's outstretched hand, then up her arm, and nestled between her breasts.

The Void was gone. Concentration shattered. The black winked out of existence as the paper flared briefly in sudden flame before ash drifted out over the placid beach.

Wrenmae just stared.

How else does one accommodate such unexpected circumstances? Certainly he must be dreaming...or perhaps Hypnotism had finally driven him beyond the realm of sanity. Nothing else could possibly explain what he was seeing.

Wrenmae forced his gaze up onto her face, rather than the tempting route downward and blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice, as if trying to expel her sudden arrival from his reality, forcibly disbelieving her.

She only smiled, infuriatingly real despite his most calculated efforts to regain control of his thoughts.

What WAS she?

"I...er...er..." The fluid urbanity of his greeting overwhelmed his expected poise, words ceasing to hold meaning in the sheer shock of it all. Wrenmae swallowed, hard, and closed his eyes. She did not carry a weapon, seemed to be genuinely happy, and had not drawn claws to feast on him like some sort of seaward nightmare.

Alright.

Focus.

He opened his eyes, this time averted, before trying again.

"I...err, Hello, um...shyke,"

Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Now he not only seemed grim, but perhaps touched in the head.

He forced a smile on his face, some sort of lopsided grin smacked on for the sake of effect. "Er, no, I err...I guess it wouldn't. I...hmm."

Another breath.

"Might I...err, inquire what...err WHO...WHO you are?" He corrected himself midsentence, mentally castigating his social miscalculation. The sailors roared in he background, singing their bawdy tunes and hammering away at a new rudder. He was alone here...alone with a beautiful fish girl.

This had all the marked beginnings of a traditional raunchy sailors tale, one of those stories told when too much spirits had been passed between mouths and souls.

Did those kinds of things actually HAPPEN?

"I...my name is Wrenmae, Wrenmae of Alvadas."

Seemed right, to introduce himself. Avert, avert, avert. He forced himself not to linger on her body, looking at the sand beside her feet. Who knew if fish girls had modesty? But it seemed polite to just assume so rather than to be caught staring.

[Liandra]

Liandra had been watching the man's face to gauge his reaction at her disturbing him. Her eyes drifted to the flower that was falling toward his lap. And then it disappeared. She hid her initial shock over seeing it vanish. It was just gone. Though she could have sworn she saw it twist the half instant before. As much as her curiosity drove her to inquire about the disappearance, she kept it within. She kept a thin, but inviting smile upon her face. That is until she saw the man's eyes traveling down her body. She'd never seduced a man before, and hadn't realized that what she was doing could be considered inappropriate or even alluring. She was a bit embarrassed, but also had another feeling. Like that she had a power over him, a power that she wasn't sure she liked. Was his gaze a compliment to her? Or an insult to him? Then the man began to fumble over his words. She found this to be a bit strange, but in some way, a bit cute as well. Was she really pretty enough to cause such a reaction in a man? She'd never thought about it before, but now... Now she was blushing, and was slightly proud of the reaction she caused. The man successfully stuttered out a question as to who she was, after adorning his face with some sort of forced grimace that was trying to be a smile. Wrenmae? Humans had such interesting and exotic names. She'd heard of Alvadas, simply because it was on the sea she'd been touring. She'd been meaning to stop there. Then the man's gaze dropped to her feet. Why had he stopped looking at her? Was she no longer pretty to him? Was she wrong and had misjudged his gaze? She wanted that feeling back! That feeling where he couldn't keep his eyes off of her, the feeling where she could be proud of the body Caiyha had given her. Why would he take that feeling away? She had to get that feeling back. She crouched down, her knees parting in an accidental display of lewdness. With a single hand, she reached out and tipped his chin up so his eyes would gaze into her own. "My name is Liandra of Charbosi. Now, can I get a real smile? It's not healthy to be serious all of the time."

[Wrenmae]

What was perhaps most difficult about the situation was the sheer incredulity of it all. It was hard to believe, truly. A beautiful woman had stepped from the sea as though birthed by the seafoam, had strolled up the beach and spun him a flower from her hand. She had asked him to smile, a simple request, and certainly under any other circumstance...he might have. But blue women simply did not walk out of the waves and request a facial expression. Not a single tale had suggested such miraculous occurrences. Certainly the sailors had hinted of Laviku's rewards for an observant eye. Maids of the sea, sent out to cater the wilder desires of mankind's debauchery...other unbelievable accounting of sea monsters and unearthly beauty but this...what was this?

Wrenmae had previously governed his life by the principles of stories. There was always a beginning, always an end, and the middle rose up like a sloping hill. Rising action, climax, falling action, end...these things were the immutable stuff of lives, of how people remembered themselves. There was always a high point, always a low one, and eventually it all leveled out.

Exceptions were, of course, noted, but Wrenmae liked to think everyone followed a manuscript to some extent. It made the most sense. The gods were just page turners.

So was he in the middle of an erotic chapter? As Liandra took his chin, gently raising his eyes to hers, it was literally impossible not to take in the sleek contours of her body again, the way her breasts swayed, the curve of her legs and the space between, then her eyes.

Thank gods he was back at her eyes.

Her touch was soft, surprisingly soft for what he assumed would be rubbery, like a dolphin. It was wet, cold, but there was a center of heat beneath her pressed finger, radiating upwards into Wrenmae's skin. His cheeks were red, a blush that rose across his cheekbones and brought startling color to his face. His heart was hammering in his chest, the entirety of his body confused about how to exactly react. He quickly crossed both legs, heading off his biological responses before they could embarrass him.

Brown eyes met green.

Sparks passed between them, some vital essence of the meeting itself, of the shock and surprise lending fire to his veins.

He smiled, but only because she asked him to. In that moment, he might have done anything she asked of him.

"Liandra," he repeated the name, petal-soft on his tongue, "Charbosi..." Charbosi sounded vaguely familiar, like something from another life. He couldn't put his finger on it, not exactly.

But her spell was wearing off, and if he kept her gaze he would not be tempted to look elsewhere. So as he spoke to her he maintained almost urgent eye contact. The sea broke behind them, roaring on the beach.

It was louder than the sailors.

"Did you come from the sea?"

Not as loud as his heartbeat.

[Liandra]

Liandra looked into his deep brown eyes, and saw many things. Surprise was prominent, curiosity seemed to be in there too. But she could tell one thing. He couldn't turn off that mind of his. She knew that it was a common feature in people back home, they can't stop thinking. They never get to feel anything amazing, not the ebb and flow of subtle currents, or the smell of the above air after one of Zulrav's many trials. She'd never understood why they couldn't just let go. She heard him utter her name, as well as the name of her home. She giggled when he asked her such a ridiculous question. Maybe he wasn't thinking that much after all. He seemed like he was on her every word, would believe anything. She tried to sound seductive, something she never tried before, "Yes, I came from the sea, and I found you Wrenmae." She could still see the storm of thoughts swirling in his eyes, and could feel one growing within her mind as well. She had to put a stop to this at once. She shut off as much thought as she could, and went by feel alone. The feel of his gaze into hers, the memory of how he made her feel beautiful. And these feelings were dragging her to him. She placed her palms against his chest. She could feel his heart thumping in his chest. She focused on it, and wished he could feel hers. So she made it happen. One of her hands slid to his, and grasped it gently. She pulled it upwards and placed his palm between her breasts. This is what it felt like to be out of one's mind, to turn off thinking. To just feel. Her now free hand reached out and gently alighted upon his soft cheek. They could feel each other, the heart could hide nothing. She leaned forward, the backs of their hands now touching, her breasts against his chest. She held his gaze, her lips were a fish hair away from his. Her heartbeat continued its furious song within her. Would he take the dive with her, the dive into the abyss where thoughts didn't follow?

[Wrenmae]

Thought simply would not comprehend. Her words, her sway, the water glistening off her cerulean skin, everything seemed surreal. Madness? Dreams? Perhaps, like Vayt, a goddess had come to query the boy on west side of a nameless island? His mind churned possiblities, sang perplexities, dived headlong over conundrums. Voices, voices, a thousand voices like steel clashing in his head. Too many thoughts, too much thinking, she was suddenly upon him.

Her skin felt like

Water
Paper
Seduction
Petals

and her eyes glistened with hypnotic intent. He could feel none of it, he could be none of it, he was Wrenmae then nothing, then a man once more nameless and eager. The tendrils of her hair writhed with anticipation, blood churning from his chest to his loins with sudden pressed insistence against the small of her stomach pushed against his narrow form. She took his hand in hers, contact, snakebite, warmth pushed between her hand and his. Risen between her breasts and placed, stranger on her blue skin, between the rising hills of her flesh.

So human in anatomy the differences were forgotten. There was little separating them, nothing so strong as steel, but all the weak insistence of cloth. Her face was moments from his, held doubled in his cross eyed vision. Her lips rose to his gaze, pursed only slightly, half expectant.

The spark of her breasts against his body, pressing at the cloth barrier between them. Insistent, seductive in their brazen foray, exploring without permission.

Stories unbound, plot unraveled, this was pure energy in motion.

He could not, would not, hesitate. Her lips only an intake of breath from his and he pressed them against hers. Lighting, fire, the universe itself filling and emptying in hazy lust, he pressed his lips against her and his hands across her back, pulling her into him.

His book was discarded pen and ink forgotten on the sand, instead they rolled beneath the palm trees till he was atop her, pressing eager lips against hers and the side of her mouth and the skin of her chin, wild in that insatiable instinct they both had abandoned custom to create.

[Liandra]

Liandra's mind exploded in pure white pleasure as his lips answered her own. They were warm, almost burning, and the sensation drove her wild. She felt his hands along her bare back, sending chills up her spine as he pulled her in close. She could feel his masculine uniqueness pressing against her lower abdomen and giggled within her own mind. She knew from some lessons in school, as well as some literature that she wasn't supposed to read, what it was that was making its presence known. But that was the extent of her knowledge, and books clearly couldn't teach everything. Liandra didn't know by, but after feeling that insistence of his, she felt more than beautiful, she felt wanted, desired, and she wanted Wrenmae to feel that as well. But how? She suddenly found herself rolling along the beach, one instant atop him, another below him, his lips showering her the entire time. She laughed in pleasure the entire time, the rolling ending with her beneath him. Her body was feeling everything now. Her back and and legs were being tickled by grains of sand, her breasts were being pressed down upon by his chest, which she found to be strangely enjoyable. Her mane of tentacles were wiggling in ecstasy, the sea wind slipping through them. Now being on her back, she felt Wrenmae's lust pressing into her own, sending waves of warmth and excitement through her entire being. She'd never been touched there before, and found it to be quite enjoyable. But Liandra wanted to make him feel as good as he'd been making her feel. But her curiosity led her down a slightly different path. As Wrenmae continued to kiss her lips and face with those warm lips of his, one of her hands alighted against his stomach. She began to slip it lower, pressed between both of they smooth, lower abdominals. She continued downward, her hand running over the outside of his cloth pants, surprised at the... She blushed inwardly at the thought, but she was surprised by the hardness. Her innate curiosity led her hand to find the waist of his pants, then ever so slowly, almost nervously, her hand crept inside like a master pickpocket. Her hand ran over short curls of hair, a feature long since lost by her people. When she finally found the source of his lust, she gripped it gently. It was smooth, warm, and strangely it reminded her of a muscle. Not having experienced this before, her hand simply explored around what she'd found, while her free arm hooked around his neck, her lips now seeking his with a hunger she'd never known before.

[Wrenmae]

He found in matters of love that the mind went many places. He soared the backs of the Dream turtles he had seen beyond this realm once before, he saw Alvadas, the loves lost and gained there, the open sea and the tracks of glassy water behind him. His lips found her own in that passionate moment, held by some prerogative predating time, some savage era where love and lust were words one and the same with each other. Sand clung to his skin, seeping into hollow places, hiding in his hair and decorating his scalp with their uneven edges. Her hands played tentative pilgrims in a strange terrain, exploring beneath the hem of his pants before laying claim to his manhood. It felt clammy at first, her hands colder than he expected them. His body shivering involuntarily beneath her as he rolled on top of her. His warmth counteracted her cold, pushing himself against her and kicking out of his clothes. There was no longer time for magic, for thought or theory. The glyphs lay forgotten behind him, the Void as well...nothing could be farther from his mind than that nothingness. Not with this sheer 'something' that occupied his waking mind. One hand grasped her cerulean breast, caressing, exploring, and he bit at her neck gently. Behind him, a slow drumbeat of heart and kettledrum sounded from beyond the trees. The ship was preparing to make way...but it was sailing in some other dimension, some other world. He was only with her now, with Liandra. Naked, both of them, he pressed against her, exploring the space between her long and kicking legs, as much confused and interested as her and as caught in the passion as any. He smiled into another kiss...this felt, otherworldly. And he was alright with being outside the world for now. There was nothing to fear, nothing to worry about. There was only Liandra, only the sea, only the beach, only himself. These were absolutes he could live with. Especially in the moment.

[Gossamer]

. Character: Wrenmae Experience: Glyphing +1, Voiding +1, Observation +2 Lore: Being Surprised By Charoda, Making Love To A Charoda Goodies: Character: Liandra Experience: Observation +2, Rhetoric +1, Seduction +4 Lore: Fearlessly approaching strangers, Making Love To A Human Goodies: Additional Notes: Wrenmae I didn’t give morphing because skin to scales for a 60 XP morpher is nothing and should be well within your level… thus isn’t worth XP being below what you should be challenging yourself with. Otherwise, nice writing. Liandra, at least your not a tease. .