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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SixthMovement|Sixth Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Passion and Purity ==
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| − | The 24th of Resplendent Air.
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| − | Spire...
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| − | The link between Whiteshield, a country mostly grounded, and Windia, a country in the clouds.
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| − | And it did show.
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| − | Each and every building on it was at least four stories high. Each and every building on it, even the newer ones, trying to build vertically rather than horizontally, making a place with bridges far up, roads above, and a thousandfold places for the nests for the Windian's distant cousins, the myriad of birds. And of course, many ways for their predators, the myriad of cats, walk.
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| − | Of course, by now, a good third of it was razed, in ruins. A second third had been razed, but among the broken buildings rose bigger buildings of ivory and ice that had not been touched yet, shining ominous as they connected to the others in all-too-familiar, but all-too-alien angles. The remaining thirds scorched by fire, essence, and claws - a destruction that aimed solely at lives. Right now, there were few more civilians alive in Spire than there were people in the army that liberated it.
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| − | And they had set up that beautiful clinic which Days know of, to help all the wounded they found amidst the ruins... the ruins which had that tinge of mystery and wonder to them. Which drew Days, in a way... sung their siren song to the Raksha. But no place sang this siren song louder than the place in Spire which was Wyld itself...
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| − | Park amidst Spire, one with tall iron gates, with strange flowers appearing to scream to get out. Some did scream. Some did cry. Some did sing. Five concentric rings of irondust lined the park, and from afar, Monkey can see them broken. And within, the shapeless sky that shifts colors, the great tree of snow that almost rivals the Palace of Timeless Winters in its old size, with passion fruits that turn into warm tropical courtesans that Spire nobles sometimes used, no prostitute disease more characteristic than a few choicy wyld mutations there. And a park that lovers ventured to run into, with glades of dreams for young, adventurous couples, where the trees sing of their eternal love, sing songs that reflect their moods, giving them soundtracks of dream like those of a love in an opera... or even retain the memories of a young couple's death-pact forever.
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| − | A very... unique, place. Well-warded, but obviously, it had been disturbed...
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' "And just who would willingly break the circle?" Closing in, moving quickly, Snow Monkey decides to figure out just what could have done so... that, and to feel the Wyld once again, to feel that which he had gone without for so long, had not felt for so long, had craved for so long. Thus, he moved with the swiftness of a tiger, spiritual nose following the airs of Virtures that waited within...
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' Walking into the Wyld, feeling the bordermarch all about him, she hears the whispers of flowers... and sees the trails beneath him. Many people have walked here... quite a few just now. And he can hear it... cries of anguish. Voices like children, down one the paths, closer to one of the lakes in the park...
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' "Hm."
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| − | His movements aren't any slower, but become more stealthy, the tiger becoming a panther stalking through the bush. His body low the ground, Monkey practically runs on all fours as he tracks down that sound out of curiousity and wonder, well aware it could simply be a trick of the Wyld aiming to lure in the unsuspecting.
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| − | ''A little danger would be fun, though! ''
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' The Child tracks down the noises, down the trails weathered by rain of the rocks on the path to the lake... a lake covered by ice-flowers that one could walk on, leading to a gazebo of ice in the middle of the lake... Days could just imagine some adults putting a child in one of the flowers and letting her float on the lake under their attentive gaze...
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| − | There were children there, under attentive gazes, but not for any sort of play. Six girls, sometime around the Child of Wyld Days' true age, little more than ten calibrations, all bound in the garden in front of the lake... and three men watched them attentively, sticks on hand, striking one or another when their cries of anguish became annoying. They walked around the children, knelt on the ground and bounded, seeming to be waiting for something...
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' His 'blood' boiled at the sight.
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| − | However, he paused, just a bit, to see what was coming. Even then, his body was coiled to leap out and destroy, Owl and Serpent unfurling and coming to rest in the grip of his tail. All that remained was his metered, angry breathing and the hair on the back of his neck rising.
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| − | ''Unacceptable... but perhaps I should see why before I act... ''
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' "Where the hell ''is'' she?" One of them asked. He was unshaven, his skin milky white, showing the signs of a Shadowland-Born. A few tatoos gave him away as a soldier in the army of the Bishop... "Shining One take me, I must be crazy in listening to you... this place is simply wrong."
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| − | Another, not nearly as pale, with long crimson hair looked at one of the children, a girl of the clearest blonde hair and eyes blue like sapphires, slapping her across the face. "If you woulda stayed, Shade, ye'd be executed like the rest of yer army, or locked with their 'cleasing fire'. Do ya want to chance the Pale Angel? It's yer beliefs or the best sort'a survival you'll see around here... she just has to show up.." He gives the girl one contemptuous look, before turning around, pacing...
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| − | "Where the hell is she? Bringing the kids here wasn't easy..."
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' Days himself winced at the slap. '''''Enough. '''''
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| − | He had heard all he needed to. Servants of the Bishop. The enemy. Even the least honorable of foes would not treat such helpless, innocent children in such a way... so therefore they had no honor. And being creatures without honor, they did not deserve to live.
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| − | The panther was a tiger again, a killing thing, boiling out from his hiding place on a direct course at the trio, aiming to lay them low quickly.
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| − | '''''ENOUGH. '''''
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' It is a breath.
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| − | Flowers shiver.<br>
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| − | The lake watches.<br>
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| − | The Child moves.
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| − | A fruit falls over the lake, and droplets take the air...
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| − | And before they fall, the Child's fists strike each and every one, sending two of the men into the ground, a third into the lake with quite a splash. Only one of them remained anything close to conscious, looking at the Child, trying to breath, spitting blood..."You... you are of chaos too... why..."
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| − | The children looked at the Child, eyes wide... one of them, with black hair and eyes, opening her eyes from a blink to see all of her opressors taken down, and a great monkey standing on their stead...
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' "I have a Heart."
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| − | Quietly, Snow Monkey brings his foot down to shut the man up. There is nothing more for him to say.
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' The one with sapphire-like eyes gazes Days without a blink... and another, younger than her, but with the same features, pehaps her younger sibling, hides her face on her shirt. Their eyes are focused on the monkey, and even after his statement about having a heart, they are still tentative... it is the sapphire-eyed one that asks, "are... are you..."
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| − | '... are you going to eat us?"
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' Monkey's reply is simple, quick, and to the point.
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| − | With quick motions, he goes about breaking the ropes binding the children, freeing them as quickly as he can manage. "No, I have no desire to eat you."
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| − | As soon as he finishes, he rises, doing his best to look, to feel comforting, trustworthy... perhaps even a bit awe-inspiring. "Come... let's leave this place."
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| − | '''????: ''' "''They are not going '''anywhere'''! ''"
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| − | The voice is powerful, imperious... and as it crosses the air, the seasons change. The ice vanishes. The flowers in the lake are now composed of shining opals. Everything is warmer... that much warmer... warm in ways that sun and summer cannot do. That only midsummer nights can, making the girls' faces turn to a deep red, making Monkey feel the call of lust...
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| − | She appears over the lake, where a fruit had fallen. and she is so very pale orange, a great dress about her, her body seemingly made of porcelain, the edges turning orange, her dress like petals of passion fruit's flowers... "They are mine, Noble. They were brought me as sacrifice. I promised them to get them away, to create a little world of riches and comfort for them in exchange for the children... I guess I will not have to pay anything, now... but they were mine from the moment they got here."
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| − | Walks up to the one of black hair and eyes, little insects about her touching the girl, stinging her... a sting that got her eyes to almost roll back, as she fell close to the Entertainer, who now had a fruit in hand, a juicy fruit... and brought to the black-haired girl's lips, who took the fruit, making it almost explode in its juice, that ran down her face, her neck, staining her shirt.... as she pressed against the Raksha, lust coursing her body pehaps for the first time... "They are mine. Their innocence is mine to ravish. You have no right to take them away, noble."
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' At first, there is only shock, surprise, and a bit of anger at not having gotten away soon enough. And then... there is confusion and tension and undeniable lust, cloth feeling much more confining in the most unwelcome of places. Even more confusion washed over him as he saw the fruit in his hands, beheld the girl's quite precocious reaction... and found it difficult to rein in what he himself was feeling, wanting. Wetting his lips, he nonetheless frowns deeply.
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| − | "You have made deals with the mortals... fair enough. But you will destroy these young mortals, will you not?"
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| − | '''????: ''' She plays with the fruit on the little girl's mouth... as she eats from it, and its juices run down the child, and the more she does, the more she seems to lose any inhibitions, rubbing against the entertainer, and through the sound of her munching, Days can hear her cooing... "... in time, pehaps. Maybe I will keep a few as pets. All I wish is their innocence... the innocence I was so long denied. I want to relish on it as this child does the passion fruit..."
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' Monkey cannot help but watch... and his frown fades somewhat, as he finds himself in the middle of a done deal, and before a fellow Wyld thing that may well be stronger than he could even begin to know, if she had to have been sealed inside with iron. Days can't help but relax, albeit a little, still as wary as a Warrior should be. "... what a waste. And yet..."
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| − | He thought back to Snow and Mei, nearly soul-eaten, the spoils of war. His doing, his hunger, his---'''NO! ''' That was different! They were the enemy! They were a just reward! These children were...
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| − | Monkey's resolve falters as he wrestles with his own hypocrisy.
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| − | '''????: ''' The girls flock behind Days... the sapphire-eyed one holding to her sister, and the other three behind her, even as a part of them wants them to go foward... as they feel it, they feel the emotions, the heat, the suggestions the Lady of Passion whispers to them throughout the flowers, the air, the world. A lady that had been so long denied... unable to feed in what she wanted most, oathed by the rulers of this city... feeding only on criminals, at times... she could only feed on what they gave... but now, others gave them to her. Such sweet innocence, not the washed-out despair of condemned criminals...
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| − | "Her name is Milena. Her older brother, Cathan, used to come here with his girlfriend... they had such moments..." She said as Milena finished her fruit, her gaze changed to something... else. Filled with shame. A plea. The lady moved her hand withint he girl's pants, and the shame heightened as the Entertainer's mere touch was enough to make the girl scream with pleasure... "I could feel it, radiating from him, and never have... from any here. Such sweet innocence..."
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| − | "I am not selfish, Noble One. You want a taste too, do you not?"
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' "I... I..." He wavers, he struggles, he fights and wars with himself. Sword and Cup clash... and Cup, his strongest Grace, his dominant self, smashes Sword back into place. It is Monkey who, even considering the situation... finds himself feeling shame for wanting what he wants.
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| − | His answer is a nod, fingers twitching.
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| − | ''How funny... to want, and yet to not want. ''
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| − | '''????: ''' Milena is panting, her pants getting moist with her own desire... "No... no, stop... stop, please... not there... I am not... I don't like this... I don't... I... I..." her voice is lost, simply lost in her pleasure as the Lady of Passion touches her, turning her voice into undiscernible coos and moans. Little orange insects hover close to the Child, and the Entertainer smiles, knowing eyes sparkling like twin summer suns.
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| − | "You want it. You are Cup and Sword. You conquer. You are a defiler."
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| − | The girls behind Monkey begin to move... but they notice there is nowhere to move to - where is the path back? They are in the middle of the lake now... they were not a moment ago, but they are, in the little gazebo. And none of them can swim.... "You want to dine on their purity as much as I do, Monkey. When was the last time you had such purity? That your supper was such dreams...?"
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' "It is not like that! I... I have developed a sort of... sympathy for them. And these are only..."
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| − | ''Innocence in its rawest state, waiting for you to mold, to shape, to break and tear it away, swallowing that sweetness which only blossoms once. ''
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| − | "... it has been years. Many, many years." Monkey pauses, and he looks back at the other girls. The Cup sings, hungry for the rare vintage laid out before him... and the kind warrior who does so love Man stepped aside, allowing the Monster he really was take center stage, hungry... desperate, an Enemy of Creation. His visage doesn't change, but he nonetheless begins to emanate raw emotion from his Cup, eyes gleaming.
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| − | "I would like to taste it again after all..."
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| − | '''????: ''' She smiles. Her smile is the very definition of wicked. She her hand comes out of Milena's thigh, and she licks it... while whispering something to the girl. The girl shakes her head, denies... but how could she deny the frustrated moan she made when the hand was no longer between her thighs? She looked at the Lady of Passion expectantly... but she only walked away. Knowing. She had been one of the greatest faerie-courtesans of Spire, held by oath, dallying with Noble and God... and a little girl's will was nothing to her. She knew the result when she whispered,"Suit yourself."
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| − | And as she walked away, Milena moved her own hands there, and brought her own moans out... so sensitive, after eating the fruit. The Entertainer walked past the Snow Monkey, picking the older Sapphire-eyed girl, her little insects stinging all others...
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| − | ... as the entertainer faced the Snow Monkey with the girl. "This is Anya Ilyamere. She is a noble, as is her sister... so innocent. Can you feel it? Throbbing on her? Her innocence, her dreams, knights and weddings...?" She begun to weave the girl's clothes... and it begun to change, change into such a revealing dress....
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| − | "Please..." Anya said, eyes trembling as she looked up at the Snow Monkey... and Anya handed him the fruit.
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| − | "Here, it will make her more... pliable. And give you her innocence..."
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| − | "By the way, it is a pleasure to meet you, Noble One. I am called Karima, Lady of Passion, Grand Courtesan of Spire."
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' "The Child of Wyld Days. That Which Battles Gods Atop Dragons." Kneeling before the girl, he looks with his eyes and feels with his Essence the pulse of her innocence, the forbidden aroma dancing within his Graces. There is no reply as he takes the fruit, looking at it momentarilly... before he holds the fruit to Anya's lips, expression unreadable.
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| − | "It is interesting to find another Noble trapped so within Creation. Your bonds seem to be broken, though... will you leave, or will you stay?" Even as he speaks, even as he waits for the youth to take of the fruit, Snow Monkey's Cup rejoices, waiting expectantly for what is to come. "I imagine there are many beyond the walls that can satisfy you..."
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| − | '''Karima: ''' Milena tries to step back, but Karima holds her... tears sting her eyes, and fear fills her... there, in the middle of such a paradise, between figures even more beautiful than the knights and ladies of her dreams... but so unearthly, as well... she tries to shake her head, but there is nothing she can do, she knows... and thus, she opens her lips, and eats from the fruit... the juice flowing down her lips as it did with Milena... and then, with her face ablaze, she looks up at the man before her... "Don't... don't eat me, please... please please..." She says, only half realising how much her voice sounds like moans....
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| − | "There were two others like me here, and commoners, passion fruits, grown for pleasure... they are all gone, however. Some died. Some got corrupted and assumed the Underworld in their wyld-souls. Me? I am the one left... I simply hid. I could go away... but it would be hard to become part of the Freeholds. If I got to them before the Shadows got to me and broke me like they did my siblings. Me? I am betting on the lights to win. And I will be here to hold court when they do..."
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' "Then you... will survive. This is how it must be, I suppose." Letting Anya finish the fruit, he listens to her plea and looks at her juice-stained face, taking a long moment to almost drink in the residual feelings flooding from her. And then... he acts.
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| − | "Shhhh. Come here." And thus he pulls her close, seating her squarely in his lap as his Cup guides hands, tail, feeding maw. "Now is not the time to worry about that. Simply relax... and trust us..."
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| − | ''Yes. Trust the faerie who yearns to ravish your innocence, your joy. Trust me, little one... for I do not trust myself. ''
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' "Trust... you...?" She says, rubbing against his lap... rubbing so much, rubbing her body against his', her elaborate, doll-like dress spreading its frillies around the monkey... as the girl, so innocent, so young, looks at him with innocent eyes, shameful cheeks, and sinful lips. The good little noble girl inside her fights against it, and she stops most of the rubbing... even as she licks her lips, to try and have composure... but at the same time, it is the essence of passion she is gobling down "Trust.... you saved us... you said... I... I trust you..."
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' A low, hungry growl forms in his throat as he's stimulated so, and there is simply no stopping his hunger, even as he speaks to her so. "Then... trust that I will do nothing to harm you..." Keeping her firmly in his lap, his hands find themselves underneath that revealing dress---above and below---, and soon he is touching in places someone so young would not think about, playing her body like a guitar to produce the right and proper notes for his Cup to enjoy. "I simply want for you to feel everything I am giving you..."
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' Where Days touches, he feels how it is moist, how it is willing... and, tintilized as she already is, his touches make her body rock and quiver. He can see the shame in her eyes, the despair, the lust... "No... noooo... not there, nooo... it is wrong... it is bad... it is dirty... it tickles... it... i... t...." but he breaks her words, as her climax comes, and she screams, loudly, tears filling her eyes... "Wh... wha... what....?"
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' ''The draught of innocence. So sweet, so sinful, so wrong, so very very right. ''
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| − | His spirit sups on that stolen wine, not at all stopping his actions, playing the writhing guitar in his arms for every note that he can get out of it. He himself feels immense shame, terrible hunger, and a nigh-painful physical longing squarely between his legs... but at the same time, he feels... right. Whole.
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| − | ''Is... is my curse my only happiness? ''
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' She falls over his chest, panting, crying... "I... that... I am dirty... I am dirty..." is all she manages to say before she begins to quiver, pushing her chest foward and upward to Days, nothing to show, but stilll...
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| − | And as she does so, Karima walks past, pushing the ecstastic Milena close to the Monkey, and whispering in Anya's ear... "Dirty, do you? That is how your little sister will feel in a little while... but relax. Soon you both will not even care. You will just be helpless, thoughtless little ones in ecstasy..." And so she walks towards the remaining little ones. And smiles.
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' Monkey wastes little time in pulling Milena close to him as well---both are soon on his lap, and he wastes little time in enjoying them together, taking the offer Anya gives him most readily while positioning them both so that they attend to the most pressing need trapped between them. "Relax... that's it..."
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| − | ''I am a monster. ''
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| − | He thinks back to Snow and Mei... how he was inches from trying to ravish Kanti... how deep in his heart, he knows that he would gladly tear so many of his Circlemates asunder if it were possible and it made his story all the more grand. What he was doing now was no better. He truly was a monster.
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| − | He hated it. He loved it.
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' That taste, that unique taste. That fleeting taste of innocence which vanished from them as both rubbed against him, both girls, not old enough to even know sin, and yet, losing their innocence against the Raksha... their moans filling the air around him, and he can almost touch the innocence that comes from them, that thing which will not be there at the end of this night....
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| − | Karima held her own, watching Milena and Anya grind against the Child, their faces aflame...
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| − | "I think we can make some great deals in the future, Child of Wyld Days..."
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| − | '''Child of Wyld Days: ''' "I... do believe we can, Courtesan Karima. I do believe we can." He leads the two further and deeper into their eventual place, reacting in kind as they tend to his own bared desires, rewarding them in kind time and time again. The worry, the hate, the shame is gone, pushed back and locked away. There is only the sweetness of the moment lost, and the new tang of two young souls losing themselves to things they should not be feeling, but nonetheless feel. Snow Monkey, monster that he is... smiles, through clenched teeth.
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| − | "But for now... we sate our hunger."
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| − | ----
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SixthMovement|Sixth Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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