SUMMER

Angkar: Wet season. Precipitation is common during the late afternoon and evening hours. Vegetation grows significantly during the summer, but flooding is a danger due to the monsoons that ravage the country. The rainforest sees evenly distributed rainfall throughout the season.

Ashoka: Desert: Extremely hot and dry. Violent, heavy downpours following long dryspells. Jungle: Hot and humid with frequent, violent rainstorms.

Morrim: Relatively hot and dry, but with a chance of thunderstorms from time to time. The heat may cause forest fires.

Soto: Hot and humid, tree cover is dense while ground growth is restricted. Thunderstorms see the most amount of rainfall during the season, and it can be very windy. On occasion, there are flash floods that can destroy homes and farms built on flood plains.

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March 30th, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has changed hands and is now under new management! If you have any questions, please direct them to DaringRaven! As for the rest of the announcements, including a season change, you can find them over here at the following link!

January 16, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has a new skin, all thanks to Mel! Don't forget to check out the new OTMs as well!

December 2, 2017 Winter has settled on Elenlond, bringing sleep for some and new life for others.

September 26, 2017 With the belated arrival of autumn come some interesting developments: new OTMs, a Town Crier and the release of the Elly Awards winners!

July 14, 2017 After a bit of forum clean-up, Elly Awards season has arrived! Head on over to make your nominations!

May 31, 2017 Summer has arrived and so has activity check! That's not all though – we also have some new OTMs for you and some staff changes!


WHAT IS ELENLOND?

Elenlond is an original free-form medieval fantasy RPG set on the continent of Soare and the Scattered Isles, which are located to the south in the Sea of Diverging Waters. The four chief nations of the western side of the world—Ashoka in northern Soare, Soto in western Soare, Morrim in eastern Soare, and Angkar, the largest of the Scattered Isles—continue to experience growth and prosperity since the fall of the Mianorite gods, although power struggles within the countries—or outside of them—continue to ensue.


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    Am I Not Human?; [Trigger Warning: Rape] ~ Nausicaa ~
    Topic Started: Sep 12 2012, 07:18 PM (567 Views)
    Shrista
    Member Avatar
    Pariah, Apostate, Heretic

    The sky was open, a fair cerulean that stretched infinitely onwards in the warm summer afternoon, the faintest of breezes stirring the leaves to a gentle rustle. There were no clouds but for the sudden burst of thick greasy smoke high above the river, cinders trailing as they were scattered on the wind and winking out before they so much as touched the greenery.
    His descent had not been an easy one, considering that he was going purely from a location of memory. The daemon had explored it thoroughly enough, recreating it in his own personal dream space. It was a place he hadn't returned to in over four centuries in the dream alone, and never in the physical. Even after she'd given him that stern rebuke he still came back, waiting, though it had been more than enough time since...
    The flicker of memory had distorted the scene, shifting trees and running water thrown into the deepest shadow, lithe dark skinned forms slipping in and out of his vision and the tightness that bound him to the cold stone floor, the chanting, that damnable chanting...
    Eventually he'd bought it back, and had decided. He would go there.

    Kaahn fell as he materialized high above the trees, flailed and began to plummet, colliding with more than a few branches as he vanished into the canopy of the nearest and crashed his way to the earth in a cacophony of broken wood and leaves. He landed on his back in the grass, wincing as a chestnut still in the shell dug into the back of his left hip, and laid there as a rain of bright flat leaves twirled their way down from the blue to settle on him. Certainly a harsher landing than he would have liked, but any landing you could walk away from was a good one. Next time he'd aim lower, say, the ground.
    Gingerly he slid one hand beneath him and wriggled the chestnut out, splitting it apart with his short claws and rubbing the pad of his thumb over the soft fur within. Rather like the one he was pursuing, he figured. Prickly on the outside, at least towards him, and fuzzy on the inside...he supposed. He'd never really thought about splitting her open to find out, bar those first few days he'd found her. The daemon tossed the nut away and groaned, pulling himself into a sitting position, then with a little more effort, staggering upright, his whipcord tail slashing through the grass behind him.

    Funny how the landmark in the dreams didn't always affect the physical. There was nothing here now on the tree, where she had scratched her funny symbols into the bark back then. Just as there was no great carpet of flowers that she had been so enthralled with when he made them grow, just for her enjoyment. He couldn't be sure this place was even correct, it had appeared often enough when he had visited the naiad in all her stunning beauty, but that didn't necessarily mean she would still be here. It had been a long time...but daemons didn't hold regrets did they? So why had he come back?
    He began to walk, the grass bouncing between his bare toes, and springing back up with the faintest of imprints behind him again, following the curve of the river. He watched the shadows of fish lying low under the water, and once stopped to watch as a particularly large amphibious creature ate insects with a surprisingly long tongue.
    "Fascinating!"
    He sat there for a time, crouched by the rivers edge, his tail slowly lashing behind him, just watching as the world continued on without him. Just waiting.
    Maybe he'd never see her again, but it couldn't hurt to try. Last resort he could try to drown himself. He wasn't sure if she'd take notice of someone falling in her waters, but he could try, if nothing else.
    He leaned out, following the shadow of a fish, teetering on the edge of the bank, toes curling in the mud.
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    Nausicaa


    She sang quietly to herself as she bathed far upstream, close to where her place of origin, her mother's pool, was. The terrain sloped downhill, allowing for another small "cliff" much like the one in their pool that jutted out over the river, creating something of a miniature waterfall. It was here where Nausicaa resided, the water pounding over her shoulders, her face, her back against the rock wall, keeping her away from the current that sent the Kaeyale River barrelling south towards the other edge of the island. Her hair seemed to blend with the swirling water around her as she leaned her head back, her sapphire eyes closed. Droplets of water slid down the length of her horns to their tips before dropping off to rejoin their alma mater.

    After an unknown number of minutes had passed her by, the naiad finally succumbed to her more pragmatic side and finished bathing before she swam carefully to the shore where she had abandoned her clothing. She had chosen to dress modestly, with a long, plain piece of material fashioned into a sarong around her waist, a pair of mid-calf worn brown leather boots, and a bodice that did not dip as low in the bust and actually possessed sleeves that puffed out at the shoulders before falling loosely to her wrists. It was not an ensemble that the naiad typically favoured, but sometimes it was nice to be just be different.

    Instead of returning to the secluded pool of water where she had lived her entire life with her mother—who was tied to the Kaeyale River because she was a full-blooded naiad, unlike her daughter, who could roam so long as she immersed herself in water from time to time—Nausi chose instead to go wandering through the forests of her home. There were very few people who trekked deep into the woods, preferring instead the main roads and paths. Most of these, however, only led to Hohoemi, and they only extended south so far before abruptly ending because there were very few small communities outside of the island's only town. It kept the forests secluded; Nausi couldn't say that she wasn't glad for it.

    As she trailed along the riverbank, arms held out as she moved one foot directly in front of the other, she heard a voice from a short ways further downstream. It was impossible to know what had been said, but the dreamwalker chose to approach cautiously, slipping into the woods so that she would not be quite so visible along the bank. What she saw when she finally found the source was some sort of creature leaning as far forward as he could towards the water, following something with his eyes. If he wasn't careful, he was going to fall in. She decided to tell him as much.

    She slipped out from behind a tree and walked slowly and delicately towards the edge of the water, standing directly across from him, unsure if he had seen her or not yet. "Have you not seen a fish before?" Nausicaa's voice was quiet and unassuming. "You're going to fall in if you keep that up. I hope you can swim." She crouched down on the edge of the bank, her finger trailing in the dirt idly.
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    Shrista
    Member Avatar
    Pariah, Apostate, Heretic

    He didn't even appear to notice when the woman moved onto the opposite bank, nor acknowledged her speech, delicate as the little fish he watched. Instead, he leaned out just that little bit further. After a moment or two, the faintest of smiles curled the corners of his mouth, and he murmured smooth as glass; "And if I cannot?"
    He stretched up onto the balls of his feet, still leaning precariously, swaying with each tiny gust of wind.

    Finally he answered the question presented to him, seeming to choose his words carefully.
    "Many fish, yes. But this fish? No. Or maybe I have. How many hundreds of years do you think a fish might live? Are they like men, that they might carry a legacy in their bones?"
    He turned baleful orange eyes on her, though they were filled with nothing more than an honest curiosity. That is, as honest as one might expect a daemon to be.
    The intensity of his gaze increased as he drank her in, from the watery curls and strange horns, to the pale skin and twice-coloured eyes. Even the swirls in the dirt he took note of, the smile fading until he was just staring bluntly at her. Nausicaa was not what he had expected, and Kaahn wondered whether she was some form of messenger, some sending from the river spirit he sought. One that was surely sent to make a mockery, with horns like those, and such cold beauty reminiscent of herself. It almost bought an ironic smile back to his lips. Almost.

    His hand darted, returned slick with water, olive skin glistening as he held up the flapping creature all made of silver before him. Truly fascinating, the bulging shiny eyes, the sleek scales, muscles twitching frantically to get loose, to return home. Fish and men had much in common in that. They both struggled to no effect.
    He tilted his head, though whether he was watching the fish now, or the woman, was difficult to say.
    "Tell me little fish, do you remember me? Or have these waters forgotten entirely? Do you remember fear?"
    The daemon grunted, turning his hand so that the fish twisted as it dangled, light bouncing from the many scales on its back.
    "No I do not think she has forgotten. Oh, spirit!"
    He held the fish to his ear, watching Nausicaa thoughtfully, and nodding.
    "A fine bargain it is. Well, off you go friend, tell her! Or better yet..bring her here."
    Kaahn flowed easily to his feet as so much smoke might, and dropped the fish into the water, watching as it floated, then twitched as it recovered, to dart away into the current.

    "How many fish do you think I should have to catch, before the Naiad comes out, girl?"
    He allowed his gaze to wander her appreciatively as he poured his question out, flexing his fingers as something akin to lust kindled behind his eyes. Whether it was a lust of the flesh, or of the destruction of such remained to be seen, and he took one confident step forward, the water swirling about his ankles. Cold immediately sank into his flesh, and he marvelled at it. How good it was to be finally free again, to experience everything once more! Even the chill of the water wasn't going to deter him, and he grinned as he imagined the sweet metallic taste of her as he took another step towards the girl on the other bank.
    If she was simply a sending, he'd tear her limb from limb and send her back, clearer than any tiny whispering fish. If not...well, it might make for some good sport.
    He rolled his shoulders with a tinkle of jewellery, and bared his teeth in a savage smile.

    "Maple. Maypole.
    Catch and carry.
    Ash and Ember.
    Elderberry.


    He took another step forward, feeling the water rising up around his knees, soaking through the bindings around his calves and tugging at the bottom of his loose pants. Each step bought him a little closer as he sang the rhyme, almost absently.

    "Fallow farrow.
    Ash and oak.
    Bide and borrow.
    Chimney smoke."


    The tip of his tail broke the water, cutting through it like the fin of a shark, back and forth as he shuddered, the chill leeching into him. Water pressed on him from all sides, almost to the shoulders as he found the deepest part of the river and the bottom fell suddenly away beneath his feet. He wasn't about to show her the startlement it had caused him, so sudden had it been, and swiftly he began treading water, still making his way across to the other side. His coat floated out behind him, a wake of dark cloth that below the surface was uncanny as blood pooling from a wound.
    Well look at that, guess I can swim after all.

    "Barrel. Barley.
    Stone and stave.
    Wind and water..."


    His feet found the stony bottom again and he advanced, the menace in his stride increasing until he stood submerged to the waist once more where he stopped. His gaze never left the odd woman, and after a second, he snorted water from his nostrils and ran his tongue across his lower lip.

    "Misbehave."

    A short laugh left him as the water suddenly sprayed in all directions with the force of his sudden movement, hurling himself forward towards Nausicaa with every intention of fulfilling the last word in the simple rhyme.
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    Nausicaa


    At first he ignored her and she thought of getting up and leaving quietly, thinking perhaps that he had gone mad and was wandering the island alone and abandoned. Or perhaps that he had been separated from whatever kin he might have—though strange kin they would have to be, judging from his appearance, which, she thought, looked rather daemonic and, be extension, sinister. But even as the gooseflesh began to spread down her arms and an uneasiness began to settle in the back of her mind, Nausicaa didn't quite become aware of the sensations until it was too late. When he finally addressed her directly—to ask so simple a question, and yet she knew that it wasn't asked innocently—she slowly pushed herself to her feet, silently cursing the day she had decided to be different. Her clothing was not conducive to running if run she had to do, and it was not conducive to fighting, either.

    But Nausicaa did not answer him, her jaw set in a grim line as she tried to keep from bolting. No doubt the action would draw his ire like it would draw a hunter's if his stag fled at that crucial moment when it was about to be shot dead, forcing the chase and an even bloodier end when the hunter finally caught up with his prey. The silence she met him with, however, gave her time to process and to think, to watch and to tense her muscles as the flight or fight response began to manifest itself, as epinephrine and cortisol were released into her blood stream and began to circulate quickly with the rapid beating of her heart. She was not an easily startled woman, but when faced with a monster and with memories of a similar time to accompany a growing sense of foreboding... Nausicaa felt her muscles seize as the fear swept in full-force, daring her not to break down and give herself to the monster across from her.

    There was no way for her to understand what he was saying, about or to the fish, but it brought fresh waves of fear each time he spoke. Something pricked at the edges of her consciousness, something she didn't understand or couldn't remember, and there was no way for her to know what it meant. But there was something terribly wrong here. When he sent the fish to find "her," Nausi could only come to one conclusion, knowing of only one spirit that inhabited the Kaeyale River, or at least this stretch of it.

    Her mother.

    "She will not," Nausi whispered, trying to think quickly and only failing. Few knew of the place, the part of the river, she called home, and fewer still knew that there was a naiad there. But he seemed not to know that there were in fact two naiads, a mother and her daughter, the latter sired from a violent assault against her mother in her dreams. The naiad-succubus very rarely chose to acknowledge the other half of her heritage, the half that had graciously granted her the power to enter dreams at will and change them, because it only served as a reminder not for her own pain, but her mother's. And Nausicaa had no doubt that each time her mother looked upon her daughter's face, she ached to see her porcelain skin and watery tresses marred by two beautiful, curving horns.

    Nausicaa moved backwards a step as he moved forward, the lust in his eyes enough to tell her that even if he couldn't swim, he'd probably find a way across anyway, just to spite her, just to try to destroy any dignity she had.

    And then he began to speak again. The rhyme sounded familiar, and quietly she hummed to it, startled when she realized it was one her mother had sang to her as the tears slipped down her cheeks and she wished more than anything that her daughter was not half-succubus and had not been born out of violent lust and destruction. The last word of the song was trigger enough to galvanize the naiad-succubus into action. Nausi involuntarily screamed as he lunged at her, ducking down and and tripping, feeling his body brush against hers as she crashed to the muddy ground. She was quick to pull herself up, scrambling for the river where she would have a better chance of escaping him. She was nimble in the water such that her heritage implied, almost graceless in the forest, unlike her cousins the wood nymphs and the dryads. Fingernails clawed at the dirt as she tried to pull herself forward. It took everything she had not to believe that he would kill her regardless of what she did.
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    Shrista
    Member Avatar
    Pariah, Apostate, Heretic

    Kaahn was positively delighted when she first screamed in her terror, and then made to flee from him. As one might predict, his fixation with the new found 'toy' was intense, and he burst from the water with such force that it had barely fallen back into the river when his feet hit the bank. His eyes glittered with malice as he lunged, missed and felt his chest meet her hip, both of them losing purchase to fall onto the sodden ground.

    So close, so close!

    It had surprised him that she'd managed to evade so quickly, more especially with the manner in which she had chosen to dress herself. It couldn't be easy to run in a skirt. In fact, he knew that it wasn't from experience. Skirts didn't really suit his manner, but he did cut a good figure in one, if he said so himself. But not pink. The colour just didn't agree with him, which was a shame, because he liked pink. Pink, like the insides of things, all soft, and moist...would she be pink inside, or something different? Maybe blue? Or even Yellow?

    In that touch he allowed his influence to coil about her, alluring, trying to hold her to him, but such was her fear that he found to his dismay it was having little effect, and she scrambled away once more. The daemon rolled away and came nimbly to his feet with a short chuckle, running his tongue across his teeth.
    "If she won't miss you, then stay! We could have a grand time, my dear, I promise you that."
    He'd almost half hoped that she would, but upon her scrambling to the water's edge, he leaped forwards, slithering as he threw himself on his front and wrapped slender fingers around her ankle in an iron grip. He wanted, needed to know where she was, if she was still here, living and breathing. Perhaps he should have let her go, and try to follow her. Perhaps he still would. Sometimes he just couldn't help himself, when the intensity built up just too much, they ran. And when they ran, it riled him, fired him up so that he just had to chase them.
    "Come back, little fish! And what a pretty little fish you are! Seems I landed a real keeper, Earl! Help me reel 'er in!"
    He cackled and tightened his grip on her, slowly drawing her closer to himself, and further from the sanctuary of the water.

    That face, so beautiful, so perfect, her watery tresses framing her face as prettily as a doll made by the finest doll maker. No, that was far inaccurate. No mortal doll maker would or could have the skill to render her, flesh or otherwise. She was perfection, and the years had not dulled that fixation. One slip and everything had gone to the hells, damning him as surely as those dark-skinned bitches had when they'd sealed him up again. By the Gods of all above and below, how he hated them! Of course, it wasn't her fault...not really...but it had taken little provocation, and what was he in the end but a maelstrom of blood, violence and fury? And lust..there was always lust, controlled or not. Usually not. But he'd done so well to contain himself! The only opening out and it had been severed...Now he had one again, and if nothing else, vengeance had a sweet taste to be savored. Or was that repentance? No repentance was always bitter, and when had he ever once repented, or apologized for anything?
    What exactly was he here to do again? Aside from bloody the waters with his presence, that is.

    Sky above, I almost feel human....Nah!
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    Nausicaa


    A feeling tugged at her mind, a sort of compulsion that told her she should stay with him and that everything would be alright, but the overwhelming sense of fear that she felt—the warning bells that jangled in her head ceaselessly—were doing a decent job of overriding that feeling. It remained an insidious thought in the back of her mind, though, spreading a slow but deliberate influence over her thoughts and actions. In the meantime, however, the naiad was merely trying to kick the incubus off, for all the good that it was doing.

    She managed to break free of him, clawing her way to the water in desperation. At his words, images flooded her mind of him, the man she had met in dreams, and she involuntarily shuddered, bile rising to the back of her throat, threatening to force her into dry heaving. She only just managed to bite it down at the same time that she bit back a sob, for the first time in years terrified enough that she thought she might actually die. And she had believed, when he had beat her within an inch of her life, that she would die then too, but somehow she had survived, and she had gone on to be stronger and more emotionally sound than she'd ever been, despite the trauma. But now... if it repeated again... Nausicaa felt her heart sink into the pit of her stomach as the demon grabbed her ankle and held fast. She shook her leg as hard as she could, hoping by some miracle that she'd manage to kick him in his smug face. Her faith was misplaced.

    "Let me go!" she shouted, rolling onto her back as she again tried to twist her ankle free of his grip. The irises of her eyes had become blood red, and though her incisors still had the same point as they had before, they looked almost as if they had elongated, her demonic heritage beginning to shine through. Still fighting against the urge to give in and let him do what he wanted with her—the thought still had her head reeling, even if it was becoming gradually more acceptable—Nausicaa began to sing softly, her voice growing in strength as she tried again to wrench her ankle free at the same time that she fought against his pervasive influence. Two could play his game, though doubt and dread told her that she would lose this battle of wills, no matter how hard she fought against him. But try she must, and if the rumours were true—if there was siren blood somewhere in her lineage—then perhaps she still had a chance yet.

    But the fight was already beginning to slip away; she could feel herself giving in, bit by bit.
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    Shrista
    Member Avatar
    Pariah, Apostate, Heretic

    The demon's wide toothy grin never slipped as he clung onto Nausicaa's ankle as tight as he dared without crushing it completely. Her skin, so smooth, so pale, was slick with the water and made the grip difficult, tenuous. Each kick he could feel himself losing bit by bit, but thankfully she stopped, her heel just missing his eye. The fear in her was palpable, powering her desperation to new heights, and each terrified breath fired his blood just that little bit more, made him fight back against her desperation with an odd sort of his own.

    He laughed brightly as she rolled over, hungry gaze searching her face as he fought to grab her other ankle, sliding her writhing form towards himself in the mud and water. It really was turning out to be quite a fun afternoon.
    "And why would I do that?"
    He dodged a blow to the side of his head, grappling with her free foot and finally pinning it firmly beside him, slithering forward until he was leaning over her. His eyebrows rose as he allowed his predatory gaze to linger on hers, noting how once before they were blue? Purple? Now they were as bright as fresh blood, and she looked not so much like a naiad as something from far more familiar territory.
    "How perplexing. It appears you are not quite all you seem…"

    The murmur had barely left his smiling lips when she began to sing. Was it a new kind of game? He’d almost thought he might be winning, trying to exert his influence over her, though she was fighting valiantly. That, he thought, was a noteworthy thing. Perhaps he’d not splice this one open, if she proved to be entertaining enough. After all, one could never have too many playthings, and he had few and far between these days.
    What was she doing? Against his own furiously boiling mind he felt the tendrils of something else coiling about him, elusive and alluring. Was she attempting to fight back with his own tricks? Each time he shook his head as if the physical gesture might assist in the dispelling, it came back, trying to lure him in. After a moment he leaned his weight on the pinned foot and sidled closer, his attention split between trying to contain her bucking leg, his advance upon her, and fighting this strange return against himself. And yet he wanted to do nothing but listen to the heart achingly beautiful melody, as well as to wrap himself around her, perhaps almost in equal amounts.
    Letting her go however, would not allow him to do either.
    "Sleepwalker, seducing me…what are you? Other than intriguing?"
    He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head once more and pressing his will more forcefully on her, even as he fought against hers, a slow fog clouding his mind.
    "Stop that infernal singing!"
    His claws dug hard into her calf, and as if in answer to the song, tugged hard on her leg, while sliding his other hand as far as he knee, pushing the tips of his claws before the rest of his hand.
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    Nausicaa


    Too close now. He was too close.

    Sweat trickled down the side of her face, tangible beads that slid down to her jaw.

    He had her foot pinned beside him, but her other continued to struggle, pushing against the slick mud, losing traction almost immediately. It spattered mud on them both. She hated herself for being in this position, but she hated him even more for forcing her into it. He was looming over her now, moments away from doing whatever he wanted to her. The hopelessness of her powerless situation had sunk in by now and all she could do to keep her thoughts from devolving into a negative spiral was to continue singing, putting all of her will and all of her intent behind the sound of her musical voice. He was fighting it, however, fighting it with all of his might, shaking his head as if it would help him clear his conflicting thoughts.

    Nausicaa yelped when he dug his claws into her calf, the power behind her spell fading instantly. Blood welled in the five identical punctures, sliding down her leg and becoming diluted by the water beads that shimmered on her pale skin. His hand reached forward, his nails dragging across her knee, and the gooseflesh was quick to appear, formed out of cold and fear combined, not pleasure. The naiad gritted her teeth together. The mad scrabbling of her leg ceased and she laid still, her chest heaving as her eye tooth bit into her lip sharply, drawing more blood. She sucked on the small hole, drawing the coppery taste into her mouth, focusing on it so that she wouldn’t have to focus on him, the monster. The monster that was going to force himself on her and take away from her something that she did not give freely, despite her heritage. She couldn’t say that it hadn’t been taken before, but not forcefully—that she knew of, but perhaps he had done that to her too after he’d beaten her to unconsciousness—never against her will. The sky, she realized dully, was cloudless.

    “Why do you care?” she snapped, an almost-feral growl rumbling in her throat. Could she confound him with an illusion? Not likely, but she was quickly running out of options, and she needed something. Swallowing, Nausicaa focused briefly on her own body, in particular the area from her belly button down to mid-thigh, and wrapped it in illusion. If the monster’s hand were to reach any further up, he would find himself running his fingers over welts, an abscess or two, and swelling around the lymph nodes not unlike that found in the bubonic plague. She wanted only to scare him off, to have him get off of her, buy her enough time to pull herself to her feet. What she would do afterwards was anyone’s guess. All she had to run off of was blind faith.
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    Shrista
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    Pariah, Apostate, Heretic

    Kaahn yelped as she flailed about with her free leg and caught the edge of her heel full on his jaw, just as he’d turned his head to make a grab for it. He resisted the urge to rub at the throbbing ache, instead flexing his mouth and lowering his brows into a mock glower.
    ”That wasn’t very nice, little fish.”
    All at once she stopped fighting, and he sat back with head tilted on one side, his eyes roving over her and pausing on the ragged rise and fall of her chest, to follow the individual beads of sweat trickling around the curve of her neck to lose themselves in the mud and spare threads of grass pushing through it. Why had she suddenly stopped fighting? Was she all out of fire already? If it was this easy, he knew already that he was going to grow very bored very quickly with his new plaything. When he’d taken note of her horns, he’d expected…something. He didn’t know what, admittedly, but something more than this. No, she wouldn’t even look at him, in fear or otherwise, and he recalled then how despite his charms, another with watery tresses had refused him much the same way, though he’d not laid so much as a finger on her in violence. In truth, he’d gotten no more than two chaste kisses, each promising far more and intriguing him to the point of a gentle sort of madness, the unscratchable itch that had kept him coming back for more. Or it had, until he’d been bound in the darkness again, thanks to the treachery of his sweet, sweet brother. Perhaps he was at the root of this as well, this silence was worse than the simple rebuff could ever be.

    A low thrumming growl not unlike a purr left his throat, and he jerked the woman forward and up until she sat limply astride his lap, nuzzling at her neck where he tasted the salt of her skin, teeth grazing across the bridge of her shoulder.
    ”Should I not care…?”
    He frowned against her neck a moment, wondering. She didn’t have the look he would have expected of one of his own offspring, but he supposed the chance was there. Was she one of his? She was far flightier than any of his brood, but there was a definite streak of demon in her. And naiad, if he were any guess. It didn’t take a genius to see that…the demon he could smell on her, familiar as he trailed fingertips down the contour of her spine. Was there more than just the one? Or had she moved far away since? It had been a long time…
    ”Where is the Naiad?”
    He didn’t honestly expect her to tell him, but it would still be a pleasant surprise if she did. Being pessimistic had its benefits in that most surprises tended to be of the pleasant sort. More to the point he was interested in why she’d cut him off, and for all he knew, any other of his kind. Unconsciously his influence wound them both as he thought of her, and grinning, pulled Nausicaa’s lower lip from between her teeth, kissing it lightly and tasting the delightfully ferrous tang of fresh blood, the rumbling noise emanating from his throat once more.
    He stopped suddenly as his palm wandered to her backside, and raised his eyebrows in amusement, nose to nose with her.
    ”Now that’s quite a disgusting sensation. You’re not really diseased under your skirt are you? I simply must look for myself.”
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    Nausicaa


    Nausicaa kept her retorts to herself, gritting her teeth together to the point that it would be audible to him if he was paying attention as he pulled her into his lap. Even if the desire to resist him hadn’t become almost next to nothing, she would still have opted to keep mostly limp, her thoughts now concentrating on not only the illusions and keeping them as realistic as she could manage, but also forgetting what he was doing to her. And then she found that she was disassociating with her body and becoming a passive observer who had the distinct feeling that she was floating above herself, looking down curiously and wondering, for a moment, why the girl wasn't struggling to free herself.

    And then Nausi realized the girl she was looking at was herself.

    She didn’t answer his question; she continued to focus on other thoughts, on other endeavours, ignored that his teeth had grazed her shoulder, or that he was now pulling her lower lip forward and tasting the blood that trickled out of the small puncture wound she had created. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. She had an idea of where her mother might be—assuming that the naiad hadn’t moved from the pool that served as their home—but she wasn’t going to tell him that, and if it meant that she had to give the monster her body to protect her mother, she was willing. After all, was she not a product of unwanted sexual contact?

    It was a hard truth to come to terms with, that she was an unwanted pregnancy.

    But at least her mother had loved her, despite the pain.

    His hand slipped to her backside, and the feeling brought her back a touch, but now it felt as if she were hovering very close to her own body, little more than half a foot from her body’s face, and if she’d leaned in just enough, she could have rubbed cheeks with herself. The feeling was unsettling and left her head reeling, but the wall that was quickly built by her subconscious’s desire to protect her from the trauma she was experiencing kept the real feelings at bay, kept them from sinking in too deeply. In some ways it was a relief, but in others it scared her.

    What if she detached herself too far and she just... floated away?

    What would happen to the shell that housed her soul?

    “Nothing’s stopped you yet,” she replied quietly. Nausicaa heard the venom in her voice, and she also felt, too, an inkling of self-satisfaction that he was believing the illusion. It was good enough, then—at least for now. “What, you don’t want to get involved with a girl whose contracted someone else’s disease?” She flinched as his fingers brushed a particularly open sore. If she wanted him to truly believe, she had to act the part.
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    Shrista
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    Pariah, Apostate, Heretic

    The woman’s sudden refusal to rise to any of the bait, her weak limpness and barely focused murmur of an answer caused a tiny flicker of annoyance to pierce through the maelstrom that was his mind. Why wasn’t she fighting back? He did so love to play and struggle with them, and the way they fought so hard when it the outcome was obvious. It was far more satisfying to break them when they were stronger, but now a tiny thread of doubt began to worm its way into him. She said she didn’t know where the naiad was, but she could just as well have been lying, he wasn’t going to know. Unless maybe he ripped her apart. People told lots of interesting things if you took them apart piece by piece, though he wasn’t very good at putting them back together again afterwards. At least they never lasted very long anyways. It was the effort that counted.

    Kaahn perked up a little at her poisonous tone, brushing her nose with his and grinning the savage smile that fell so easily into place.
    ”No, I must say I’m a little disappointed, but we can’t all get what we want.”
    He wasn’t sure now what he expected from her, clearly she had some bite to her but wasn’t utilizing it, simply letting him do whatever the hell he wanted. That was fine, but it wasn’t the act of throwing her down and having his way with her that had drawn him so much as seeing her behaviour in such a situation. Why else did he break and ruin things so often? It was like removing the tiniest piece of a very well tuned clock, only to see if it could still work, if it could somehow work around it. Or deliberately putting sticks in the way of a trail of ants. That was more appropriate to it when concerned with humans, but she wasn’t human, and remained an enigma.
    ”What makes you think I give a damn if you caught the most virulent disease on this miserable plane? Does it hurt? Did you get it whoring? I like whores, they have such an interesting view on life.”
    He twisted his lips in disgust and barely contained himself from recoiling as his fingertips brushed over another open and leaking sore on the underside of her thigh, then checked his hand, frowning when he saw nothing to suggest such a thing. The daemon’s eyes flicked from his dry fingers to her face, one eyebrow rising as his mouth quirked into a sly smirk.
    ”Fascinating…”
    He leaned forward until his horns clicked against hers, flicking the edge of her skirt up to look and frowning in perplexity when he saw the perfectly pale smoothness of her leg, completely unmarred by the sensation he was feeling beneath his hands.
    ”You are neither wanton nor compliant, and unless mine eyes are fooling me, definitely not diseased. So why? What’s so wrong that you resist so?”
    Kaahn released the hem of her skirt, held between thumb and forefinger to fall back over her skin, obscuring his view from where she sat across his lap, and regarded her close as they were with refreshed curiosity, though no less fire than before. He proceeded to run a watery ringlet between his fingers, humming deep in the back of his throat in wonder. He’d always loved that before…so fluid, so…alive. She wasn’t the same naiad, was she? Again that thread of doubt wound itself a little tighter. She didn’t smell the same, taste the same, or look exactly the same. Her resistance as of yet was an odd fashion of grim acceptance unlike anything he’d anticipated, the venom in her voice could have suggested that she utterly despised him, but that wasn’t true, couldn’t be true. He had gone to his knees for her more than once, bought her gifts and trinkets, made analogies that compared her to…actually scratch that one, she’d teased him when he’d done that. And she hadn’t wanted all the gifts either, especially not the puppy for some reason. He had thought it was just right, he’d even grafted the fish tail on it and the gills so it could breathe underwater with her. Or at least that was the idea. She’d called it an abomination and for some reason that one had made his insides ache as if she’d punched him in the face with a brick.
    He couldn’t keep every shred of confusion from his gaze as he looked at Nausicaa again, trying to puzzle her out. Why didn’t she want him? He’d do anything for her, anything she wanted. It had always been fun in moments like this when she’d teased and pushed him away, but he always came back. Always. Why then did she look like she wanted to bite off his tongue and feed it to him?
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    Nausicaa


    Nausicaa remained silent, ignoring him again. She seemed to hover between wanting to make scathing remarks and staying absolutely silent. A whore, indeed. As her disassociated self looked down on the body being violated, she couldn’t help but think that most whores wouldn’t have balked this much at the kind of contact the demon had initiated, or if they had, they might have approached it differently. Or maybe they wouldn’t have. Was she a common whore? The naiad didn’t think so. Yes, she wooed susceptible males into doing her bidding, but very rarely did she initiate sexual contact with them, even rarer now since the incident with Chit. Chit... Only a small part of her vaguely missed him. But after he’d violated her personal boundaries... What else was she supposed to do?

    She knew the illusion could only have lasted so long; it still disheartened her that it hadn’t lasted longer.

    “Is that a rhetorical question?” Nausicaa heard herself snap. “Are you that ignorant? I suppose I should have expected that from your kind.” She heard the venom in her voice, could see the way she spat the words, filled with boundless hatred. The illusion vanished and her skin became clear once again. What had she meant by that, your kind? Were they not kindred spirits, at least in some fashion? Did they not share a common heritage, even if her mother hadn’t wanted to have a baby of that heritage? Could she be so hypocritical? But even if she was half-demon and that it was precisely those half-demonic traits that enabled her to dreamwalk, she identified with the naiad half of her blood. Possibly because she had spent her life knowing who her mother was; she’d never met her father and the thought of ever doing so made her stomach churn.

    From several feet from her body, Nausicaa observed him as he looked confused, wounded, even. If she hadn’t had bad experiences with men before, she might have taken pity on him and even tried to console him. No, no, no, she might have said softly, I’m not usually mean like this—you just startled me, that’s all. Come, rest your head on my shoulder and let me make up for my judgment.

    But she had had bad experiences with men in the past and she didn’t feel that way. At all.

    “What, never had a woman tell you no before?” she asked, the edge to her voice a constant that looked to be permanent at this point. Nausicaa’s disassociated self remained floating in the air, though she had come closer, was seeing their faces up close, observing them. “The travesty! Well I’m certainly not going to tell you yes, if that’s what you’re hoping for.” She just managed to stop herself from saying, ‘Might as well get it over with, then, because I’m not going to budge.’ At the root of her soul she didn’t want anything over and done with, least of all an act that would strip her of her dignity and scar her for life.

    Nausicaa didn’t need any more scarring.
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    Shrista
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    Pariah, Apostate, Heretic

    "My kind? And what exactly, is that supposed to mean? No really enlighten me, I'm quite...ignorant."
    He didn't bother to hide the menace from his voice this time, digging his claws painfully into the soft meat of her thigh and snarling low and threatening in the back of his throat. Had she said that once to him before? Maybe she had, or something along those lines. it had left him befuddled, not something that generally happened to someone like him. Hearing it again now raised the fine hairs on the back of his neck and had he hackles like a dog, they would have risen too. As if he wasn't aware of exactly what he was. As if he should be ashamed of what he was, he who was only being what he was always meant to be, what he was born to be! Unlike this whelp who denied it and shied away from her true nature.

    Soft as silk he tilted his head and asked, "Do you think yourself better than me? Than anyone else? You and I are alike in so many ways my dear. Even humans cannot deny that there is a little of us in them. Everyone has that need to kill, to fuck and destroy! Some of us are better at expressing it than others...nothing more. Does that make you better than us, you who are one of us? Ask youself this; Is there nobody you have not wanted to literally sink your teeth into, to tear their throat out and bathe in their blood for what they have, or have not done?"
    He barked a short blunt laugh and shoved her roughly from his lap, abruptly depositing her onto her back.
    "There is hate in all of us, no matter how one tries to avoid it or bury it, it will always resurface, like the bloated corpse in a river you don't wish to look at, but cannot tear your eyes away from. You think you're above that? Look again and tell me what you see, woman!"
    Leaning over her, he bared his teeth in a savage smile, catching her chin forcefully in his hand and turning her face, that she would have to look into his burning eyes.
    "To deny yourself is to deny your very existence. You are a monster deep down, same as all the rest of us."

    He released her then, towering over her with hands on hips while he peered down the length of his nose, cold and calculating, all traces of lust evaporated entirely. His tail lashed the ground impatiently while he surveyed her, the greater part of him wanting to surrender to his urges and do it anyway. Yet he held back. She was not his naiad sure, but the fact remained that from her words alone she knew where she was, and only served to confirm that she was still present in the area.
    "I'll give a headstart of ten seconds to make it interesting for both of us. One..."
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    Nausicaa


    Nausicaa yelped as his claws sank into her thigh, wincing as she felt the small punctures sting. But the pain wasn't enough to distract her.

    Long, long ago, she'd been responsible for someone's death.


    The town was small, quiet—a population of maybe fifty. Everybody knew everybody. She'd just been passing through.

    The bruises from weeks past had finally gone down; the size of her lip had returned to its normal size, although the scabbing split remained; there was now only a yellow bruise with some sickly green patches around her eye, tender and still a little swollen. The rest of the injuries that her former lover had inflicted on her body had mostly healed. The lacerations were all that remained, and the stiffness.

    She kept her eyes lowered to the ground, her expression vacant, despondent. If staying in motion hadn't been the only way for her to keep from slipping into depression, of losing herself to the fathomless depths of her own emotional reaction, she would have holed up in a room for months on end until she'd felt like she could actually face the world. But she couldn't, so she trudged in whatever direction her feet carried her, aching.

    A shoulder caught hers and she stumbled, whirling around. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered, glancing up only for a second. Her arms hugged her body, the tears filled along her lower lash line. Even in a heavy, floor-length dress she didn't feel safe. Even look at the farmer's boy who'd run into her with a kind face and his defenceless stance, she didn't feel safe.

    "Hey, are you ok?" he asked, reaching out.

    "Don't!" Nausicaa shouted, recoiling away from him.

    "I didn't mean—" They boy took a step forward. The naiad panicked. Abruptly, she turned and ran.

    "Wait!"

    Her bare feet pounded against the rough ground, her dress constricting her legs, pressed against her body, making her feel like she was suffocating. She ran through the streets without noticing a single other person. The voice in her head was telling her to run, to hide, to stay safe. She tried not to think of what would happen if she was caught.

    A memory flashed through her head. Screaming, sobbing, pleading held down and pummelled choked kicked blood everywhere laying in it breathing it until she'd opened her swollen eyes and noticed people standing over her tried to say something, but all that had come out was a gurgle

    Nausicaa ducked down behind a stack of crates, holding her head as she rocked, sobbing. Her whole body shook. The pain she'd experienced came flooding back. Her ribs and her throat ached the most. She heard the approach of someone a second too late. Her head snapped up and she scrambled to her feet.

    "Get away!" she shouted, stumbling backwards and pushing her back into the wall behind her; the alley didn't connect to another street. Cornered. The wall from the inn flashed through her memory, making her flinch. The feeling of being trapped made her head reel.

    Another memory. He was asleep, snoring softly she dragged her battered body off of the floor as quietly as she could every part of her some that she didn't even know were there ached and fought her each step was agony made worse as she forced body towards the door soundless abruptly his snored stopped panic lunging hands grasping the door handle shaking furiously a sob as he grabbed her from behind dragged her backwards kicking and screaming until her voice was raw and hoarse and the strength of her own body failed her

    "I just want to help."

    Nausicaa's hands dragged against the brick beneath them, pulling at the skin. It grounded her. But she could tell as he recoiled away from her that her irises had turned red.

    "I don't want your help." The words came out as a growl.

    He seemed to consider what she said; she could see he was torn between walking away and walking forward. In the end, he decided to go forward.

    She let out an inhuman shriek as she launched herself away from the wall and lunged at him. He didn't have time to react. Both went down together. He shouted out, called for help. She silenced him, fingers shoved into his mouth, tearing at his lip while the other hand clawed savagely at his eyes. He screamed and screamed and screamed as she mauled his face. People stopped by. She could feel hands flipping up to faces. Stunned into stillness. She could hear more screaming. Giving her a headache. But nobody came. The body beneath her stopped convulsing. She crushed the eye she held in her palm and threw it aside. His face was unrecognizable. She drew herself to her feet, slowly.

    Nausicaa could feel the blood smeared all over her face. None of it was hers.

    Her body began to hitch as she started to sob uncontrollably. She forced her body to flee. The people had fled. But someone would come back for the body.

    She didn't want to be here when they did.



    The naiad was only half-listening to him as he spouted something about how she ought to accept her heritage. She only really comprehended what he was saying when he leaned over her, grabbed her chin, and forced her to look up at him.

    "I have made my peace with my monster," was all she said.

    The demon let her go then; Nausicaa was quick to scramble away from him, her entire body shaking. She heard him but it didn't matter—she was already on her feet, running, hearing his count up to four before she was out of earshot. Light-footed, she moved through the forest with ease. She knew it well. She was not as nimble on land as her cousin, the dryad, but she was agile still. Had the river's water been deeper—had it not led to her mother—she could have out swam him. Instead, she veered off into the forest, trying desperately to put as much distance between her and the monster as she could.
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    Shrista
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    Pariah, Apostate, Heretic

    Kaahn glowered as his anger began to build, like an impending thunderhead about to hit the tiny fishing boat, he was about to dump all that pent up wrath on her. Her eyes had glazed while he spoke, and she'd evidently gone somewhere else, seeing something else that he could not. He didn't like it. What did she know that he didn't, where had she gone that he couldn't follow after her, haunting and tormenting, dogging her every footstep until she spent herself, her soul fluttering free as the fright and exhaustion finally ended her. It was no evisceration sure, but it was almost as good, to know that she might physically expire with the thoughts of what he was going to do to her.

    "And has it made peace with you?"

    There was always going to be a point in everyone where the beast in them bit back, stopped cowering and lashed out, for whatever reason. His curiosity at why she'd tried to tame hers, to quell it, was only slightly mitigated by the onset of his anger.
    And she ran, before he'd even started. That was good, good that she had the fear to put the wind up her. He ran his tongue out over his incisors, touching his lower lip briefly as the heavy metallic tang of the warp filled the air. Blades of grass browned and shrivelled, curling on themselves around his feet. The boles of the nearest trees began to blacken and tendrils of some thick greasy yellow plant crawled from opening crevices, strangulating. Leaves fell like rain, slowly twisting in the air before the breeze caught them, an impossibly hot wind that seared, smelling of burnt sand and the perfume that only the desert had. For the forest, it smelled of death.
    "Nine...Ten. Ready or not...Here I come."

    The daemon launched himself into the forest after her with a laugh, the trees literally recoiling and twisting as he passed, as if to get out of his way, branches rippling and bucking like shocked muscles. He'd find her, and tear the information out of her as slowly as he dared. She'd be begging him for release long before he had it, he was sure...
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    Nausicaa


    Her breathing was ragged. Her legs ached; one bled. Her curls flew around her head in her fit of terror. Her body wanted to give in, but she could not. She pushed herself harder than she’d ever pushed herself before.

    The forest was withering behind her, dying as he finally reached the final number and started chasing after her. Nausicaa had to consciously change her direction, leading him away from the path that would take him to the place she and her mother shared.

    Every now and again she’d glance back to see if the monster was still following her, though she really didn’t need to because she knew he was. She’d angered him and now it seemed that he would stop at nothing to catch her. "I’m going to die" was the mantra in her head and it filled her with sadness and regret even as her instincts took over and she wove her way through the trees and underbrush; she ran blindly but trusted her primal self. At one point Nausicaa stumbled and nearly did a dive into the earth, but she barely managed to catch herself and kept going, despite pain lancing up her already injured leg. When she recovered, she knew the monster had gained on her. But she could smell tangy salt in the air, and with a sudden realization she knew that there was a chance yet.

    Nausicaa put the last of her strength into a final sprint. The tree line broke and the smell of the ocean flooded her senses. She lost some of her momentum as her bare feet collided with sand and she staggered, struggling to maintain her balance. The ocean’s water lapped against the edge of the shoreline, soaking it, then receding. The naiad ran as far as her body and her lungs would let her before she turned and walked slowly backwards. She could feel the flowing tide brush against the edges of her heels, then her ankles. And there was the monster, breaking through the treeline, destroying it with decay. With the water at her back, Nausicaa felt bolder, safer. There was a window of escape now; she just had to utilize it.

    “It doesn’t matter if it’s made peace with me,” she replied finally. Her voice came out in gasps as she tried to catch her breath for just a second. “I’m in control of my life, not it. Not all of us choose to be slaves to our impulses.” Nausicaa took another step back into the ocean. The water was now touching the base of her calves.
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    Shrista
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    Pariah, Apostate, Heretic

    He almost lost her once, twice, her pale figure flitting like a ghost between the trees as she dodged and weaved, trying to lose him. It was exquisite, the blood pounding in his veins with a fury, a desperate need that drove him on even when in probability he should have stopped and given up.

    There would be no giving up.

    He wanted her.

    Catcalls chased her, whoops and cackles as he bounded through grass both long as short, stunted ferns and twisted roots recoiling at his passage, leaping to get out of the way. Don't touch him, he's poison, he'll sap from you all that was sacred and good and leave you with less than nothing, and then you'll still want more.
    Once she fell ahead of him, and he surged closer, lowering his shoulders and shooting forward, the arrow from a bow, claws tearing the earth. Perhaps he should have run on all fours like a beast, but that was most undignified and he had far more grace on two. Part of the terror was knowing that it wasn't a beast but a man that came for you, the hunger in his eyes glistening, dewy, carnal, visceral...

    He threw himself after her but she rose and was gone again, his hands grasping wet grass and near slavering after her scent as he used his momentum to push himself into an easy spring, from four to two just like that. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth with a laugh, and slipped, sliding for one uncertain moment on the slick grass until he regained purchase. Worse than ice. He'd make a mental note to pass back and tear it all up. Then the wind could carry it like confetti, the same way it did with shreds of skin and shards of bone.

    The sand caught him off guard. He loved sand, so familiar, so close to home, but this was wet and clumpy, not as he was used to, so fine and changeable. His foot stuck, pitching him forward so fast that when he threw out his hands they sank to the wrist, and his dexterous flip planted him in up to the ankles.
    Not so graceful. No matter, she was there, just out of reach. Just like a naiad to make him work for it, his chest rose and fell steadily with the exertion as the daemon regained his breath calmly, only half listening to her words.
    Fresh meat.
    "Well here we are little fish! Just you and me."

    Slaves. Now there was an idea. Was she worth keeping though? She was certainly unusual with those horns and the watery locks that were now in disarray. She'd run at the first opportunity but the last one had too, and where was she now? That's right, nowhere. Ignis had enjoyed the gift, before he'd killed him too, a fistful of greasy red snakes dragging out of his midriff, eyes bulging in disbelief. And she'd screamed and screamed. What was worse? Watching and knowing you were next or watching and knowing that you weren't?
    Sometimes he wondered, then remembered that he didn't actually give a fuck.

    Kaahn twisted, freeing one foot, then the other, shaking all but the grains that clung stubbornly to his bronze skin, clammy with the sand's moisture. The sea was at her back, but he wasn't going to let her reach it. Still he was suspicious, she had stopped to face him, and while he loomed over her, tail scoring deep rents in the ground, he wasn't stupid. She wouldn't have run so far if she hadn't come to some sort of decision.
    The daemon's eyes were hard, cold as his influence stole out after her. He would bring her to her knees. He would show her why you never ran away. Would she do well trying to crawl some disgusting little wharf roach back to her beloved ocean, or cave beneath the assault? Well regardless...he wasn't going to let her. She was his. She belonged to him now.
    He took a small step forward, a terrible smile breaking out across his face as he stretched for her with that coiling lust, the left corner of his mouth splitting, a hairline crack spiderwebbing from jaw to ear.
    "You could always be a slave to my impulses instead. A favourite, I think. Would you like that little fish? Come to me, I'll take good care of you."
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    Nausicaa


    Chasing after her through the trees, he had been graceful. Now, as he reached the beach, that grace all but disappeared. She backed off another step, the waves rising higher, halfway up her calves. It stung a little; her delicate skin was unused to the harsh brine. She rarely went into the ocean; the more she immersed her body in the saltwater, the more itchy and irritated her skin became.

    He recovered and towered over her, his tail making deep scores in the beach. His lust seemed to stretch away from him, carried by the wind, to curl around her. It enticed, pulled her forward even as she resisted and leaned backwards. Fighting it. Nausicaa grit her teeth together, her body teetering as if it were on a physical precipice. The water splashed around her feet as she staggered. Her hands shot up, digging deeply into her skull. She pulled her hair and a feral growl rumbled in her throat. She managed—barely—to drag her body another step backwards into the water. The sting, as she had hoped, did not become any worse.

    She was half-demon, too!

    Why can’t I…?

    Nausicaa snarled in frustration. Her knees shook and then buckled as she fought something inside of herself that she didn’t understand. The waves splashed around her. She had a moment of clarity as the salt water stung more than just her calves—it stung her hips and her thighs and even parts of her back. One of her hands shot into the sand, grabbing a clump of it. The naiad whipped it at the demon, but not seconds after she had, her control slipped and she remained rooted in the surf. One hand was in her hair clawing at her skull still and the other was flexing in the sand. Nausicaa’s chest heaved. She was locked in a battle of wills with the demon and hers wasn’t strong enough. Her sapphire eyes stared at him, radiating hatred. And then, one last-ditch idea came to her. She doubted it would work, but she had nothing left to lose.

    The naiad sang softly and focused on the sound of her own voice. Listened to the lilt and the notes and the tempo. It didn’t really give her strength—and she doubted it would stop the demon, or have any kind of enticement power that even came close to matching his insidious will—but maybe it would be a distraction. She was realizing that all she wanted now was to block out as much of this trauma as she could.
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    Shrista
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    Pariah, Apostate, Heretic

    Almost touching, she leaned back, as if the very thought was repulsive. His mouth stretched into a smile without a hint of friendliness. Did she think it would matter, in the end? That they touched however briefly? Even without the contact she resisted yet, and he ran his tongue across his teeth, narrowing his eyes. Perhaps he should let her have her way after all. Willingly? No.

    Kaahn sneered as fell to her knees, the battle of wills ongoing, the scales tipping steadily in his favor as she fought against the insidious will of his aura. Stupidly, he didn't expect when she threw a handful of sand at him and he hissed, low and threatening, full of malice, driven back a step as the grains showered at his face, stinging his eyes and making the curses rise like so much bile on his tongue. Eyes watering, he raised a hand to scrub at his face, shaking his head with a myriad of clinking chimes and flashing gold.
    How dare she?
    His muscles tensed, intending to pounce upon her and smash her to the ground, lips curling back from his teeth in a silent snarl as he pictured it with such clarity. Pushing her down, slender fingers wrenching at her watery tresses to bare her throat despite her cries, crushing her ribs to the sand, milky skin bruising like soft fruit under his touch. The overpowering scent of brine and the crash of waves building as he tore at her savagely, before casting her aside like so much jetsam to lie unwanted and unnoticed on the beach.

    His toes dug into the wet sand suddenly, pulling back a fraction at the sound emanating from her throat, so pure where his own was rife with corruption. His face flickered, moving swiftly between distaste and enchantment, to a furious grimace.
    "Stop that at once!"
    It wasn't that the sound of singing hurt him, so much as the tone, the manner in which it was given, and the fact that they shared something alike, made it incredibly distracting, clashing with his own pounding wants. The growl ripped from his throat, feral and altogether misplaced in his appearance, hands flying up to block his ears. Not once had he hated the sound of a succubus singing, but she was no succubus...she was...something other. Not angelic either, for as enrapturing as their songs were, not once had he found one so beautiful that it didn't stay his hand. The notes wormed their way into his mind, made him want to thrash her and smash her, dash her on the sea rocks and kiss her all the same. It was simply unacceptable. Nobody should have such an effect on him.
    "Enough!"
    Edited by Shrista, May 9 2014, 12:36 PM.
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    Nausicaa


    The sand was a minor distraction to him, at least. But when she begun to sing and his hand went to his ears like he could somehow block out the noise... It gave her hope, if only a little. But it was enough, and she put more power into her notes, sang with all the might she had as she tried to exploit that tiny window for all she was worth. This was it—if she didn't find a way out of this now, she wouldn't. Nausicaa knew she wouldn't walk away from this unscathed, regardless. Damage control was her aim, now.

    In a perverse way, she felt pleasure at his pain. If she could have had the upper hand, the naiad would have danced in front of him and teased him and tormented him for all she was worth. To prove a point, to make him feel the way he made her feel: used, revolted, objectified. But she had to settle for what she had. Her window was closing. If she was going to try one last-ditch effort to get out of here, it would have to be now.

    Nausicaa's singing stopped abruptly. With everything left in her that she had, she hurled as much water as she could at him with her hands, flinging sand and shells and debris in the mix. Her nerves were numb now to the sting of the salt water against her delicate skin. She wasn't really sure what she wanted to accomplish, but if the sand had forced him back a touch, could the salt water not do the same? Especially in his eyes.

    The naiad scooted further back into the ocean, feeling the waves lap against her shoulders; at their lowest they dipped to the middle of her upper arms. The tug of his power was still strong, and though she wanted nothing more than to submerge herself and swim away, she found her body unwilling. Rooted to the spot again, she hummed softly to herself, focusing on the sound of her own voice. She hadn't prayed in a long time, but she found herself doing so just then:

    Dear gods... Whichever of you happen to be present... Don't let this be a repeat of my mother's past. Gods... Let this be quick.
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    Shrista
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    Pariah, Apostate, Heretic

    Go in there and get her, rend her and split her, show her the meaning of pain-

    He danced back from the foam spilling across the sand towards him, struggling to free his feet and hissing as flecks of spray spattered his skin. Skin darkened around the salt water, flaked as if it were charring, the stench of hellfire and oblivion if either such could be called that, rolled away from the tiny wounds and assaulted him. It meant little, only that his body was corroding at the contact with it, but he recoiled all the same.
    Tiny flakes shredded away, drifting on the air like ash, flat vectors that twisted and vanished into the air, leaving the skin feeling raw, smoking slightly. So much could be accounted for in children's rhymes that just went unheeded now, marked off as ridiculous foolishness, just another song to sing at bedtime. Forget the warnings, there were no real monsters, only goblins and fairies. They never believed until the goblins were impaling their neighbors and looting their houses. Never accepted until the faeries were stealing their children and peeling the skin from their arms in long wobbling strips.

    Crouching, he reading himself to spring. He could still make it, snatch her and throw her from the foul liquid onto the beach, the pain was worth that much. He'd recover his facade readily enough with a trip back to his own plane.
    Tail lashing, his muscles bunched, recoiled and shrieked as he fell back, half dragging half clawing at the sand to put distance between himself and the gentle hiss of the ocean. Water dripped from his hair, plastering it to his head and beading on his chest where it had hit him when the naiad swept the wave up. Green flame dribbled from the hairline fracture, which had crawled across the entirety of his face, lapped from the hollow of his eye, flesh charring and shredding away in a constant stream of miniature patches of darkness.

    "Bitch!"
    He lunged forward, the water rushing around his calves and a gurgling shriek tore from his shattered mouth, left him staggering as it receded, onyx bone and sickly flames twisting around decaying and tattered flesh. For all that he craved her, the daemon knew he could not reach the woman bobbing in the waves, not without near enough destroying himself in the process, and while he might be summoned back at any point, what was the likelihood that would happen if his current host realized the extent of the stranglehold he had on her already?
    No, there'd be time enough. There always was.
    "You tHinK ThIS iS oVer?"
    Water hissed in a gout of sulfurous smog around his ankles once more, wreathing his presence, flickering behind a billowing cloud.
    "SwIm aWAy LiTtlE fIsH. i'M sUre We'lL mEeT AGaIn."
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