"Uhhh...right..." 

Awkwardly, Raxta cleared her throat and cast a glance around the area, an excuse to look anywhere but at the naked human before her. "Right. It's...it's fine. Anyway, you want clothes, no? Maybe it's time to head back?"

Raxta may be many things, but oblivious she was not. She was picking up what Kaela was putting down—she was no shy maiden under normal circumstances—and she was also quite convinced the woman had lost her mind! Surely she wasn't in her right mind after an injury and poison-induced sleep.

Boy? Makani thought with an amused look at Kiri, both eyebrows raised. That was a word he hadn't been called in a good decade or so, but it was kind of endearing coming from the older woman.

And they were worried about scaring him off! Adorable. Kiri was more of a flight risk than he was, he thought as Akila mentioned a "third influence" and Kiri stared at the ceiling as though begging for divine intervention. Oh no, he was in his element here! The chaos was interesting, the air abuzz with a frenetic but warm energy.

And suddenly he realized with an unexpected pang that he had missed this. People. Family. Crazy, loud get-togethers, drama and all.

He shook the thought away. "The more the merrier, I say!" Makani said. "I think the biggest challenge would be finding someone willing to put up with us. Kiri's quite the handful and I can't say I'm much better. It must be why we work so well together, right Kiri?"

He playfully swatted Kiri with the tip of a wing, winking at her. None of what he'd said was a lie, this was a partnership of a sort and they were working together. But he knew damned well how her mother would interpret that.

Simonea quickly ushered her new, feathered friend up the stairs and into her room, shutting the door behind them quickly—and leaning back against it with a heavy sigh and slouched shoulders, wings limp. She had done a good job keeping herself collected for all their sakes, had kept a relatively cool head all things considered, but now that she was in a more private area...

She could feel a tremble in her limbs, like a tree branch pulled taut and ready to snap, and her pulse was fluttering just a bit too fast. It was funny how that was, how the stress and panic set in once the crisis was over. 

Goodness, all she really wanted to do was collapse into bed and sleep a deep, dreamless sleep.

But Lanai was still injured, and she was being so awkward, so there was no time to fall apart just yet! So she pushed off the door and flashed the woman a reassuring smile, waving away her apologies. "Oh, stop that. Who can blame you being flustered after fighting off a demon, dear, honestly! Even if you came out on top, that still takes a toll, you know. And then to have a silly human confront you after! That's a lot of excitement for one night."

She had stepped over to a basin as she spoke, gathering up a clean wash cloth and a small wedge of soap. "A lot of excitement for that poor girl, too, I'd imagine. You looked quite frightful back there—and I mean that in the kindest way possible! Come, now, let's see your arms."

What a strange tale.

Hayate listened to her story, an eyebrow cocked curiously because...well, it was so odd. A dream rabbit bestowing gifts, of all the things. The skeptic in him wanted to say it was just a dream and dreams didn't really mean much, but that wasn't true. They meant something to the person that had it and they could read any meaning they liked into it.

But something about it was niggling his brain,
something that told him it wasn't quite true. Wasn't there a story about something like that? Hmm. Maybe. But he'd read a lot of tales and rabbits were always popular folklore figures across cultures.

"Mm, I wouldn't say that," he said when she claimed to not be exceptional. "You've got exceptional luck, it seems, whether bad or good, and rabbits are supposed to be lucky. Then again, sometimes bad luck turns out to be good luck, you just can't see the future to know how the chain of events it kicks off turns out, if that makes sense. Still, that's not a bad animal guide to have, if that's what that is. Rabbits are survivors, tricksters, quick and elegant and cunning. They're prosperous and...well...all that," he said, trailing off awkwardly as he realized he had once more begun to ramble. 

"...I'm not actually sure where I was going with that," he said, for at least the second time that day. "Ah. Well, we're almost there! See that door there at the end?" He jerked his chin toward the end of the monastery. "Think you can give it a good knock or kick? Jin should be expecting me but I don't want to spook her."

"Wait, really?" Valor blinked at her, for a moment staring like a fool. It was, of course, the answer he had been hoping for—but also an answer he had been prepared not to receive. Because why wouldn't she just take her freedom and go?

But...she had a point. She was kind of stuck wasn't she, freedom and all? And despite himself, he let out a relieved sigh—and felt a small, small pang of guilt. Gods. This whole thing was selfish and he knew it. He had gotten Ka'lei wrapped up in the scheme in the first place because as a slave she couldn't exactly say no, and a slave was about the only person he could get to agree to such an outlandish plot. What noble lady—hell, what tavern wench?—would agree to such a thing? What would anyone get out of such an arrangement? He hadn't been thinking about what Ka'lei wanted back then; he'd just seen an opportunity and gone for it. But as many things in life went, it wasn't that easy. The more time he spent with her, the more he realized...well...

How fucked up it all was.

How scared she was, how wounded.

He'd had no idea.

He quickly shoved the thought from his mind, recovering fast. "Oh. Well! That settles it, then! And oh, stop, no need to thank me. It's nothing, really! I mean, like, what would I even do with a slave? I have servants."

As if that explained away everything. He realized, with a gross twist in his belly, that having servants didn't stop others, after all. But he shoved that thought from his head.

"Anyway!" he said with a clap of his hands. "Here we are, then. Our plans will go forward as decided. We'll get fake-married and find your brother and then...who knows! In the meantime...you'll just have to pretend you're into me when we're out in public, but you already know that. That's about it. And I promise nothing untoward will happen. Folks here are fairly prudish so the most scandalous it has to get is—" He lowered his voice, leaning in and waggling his eyebrows. "Hand holding. I may have a reputation for public debauchery but you can just be shy or something."

He paused, then added, a little hesitantly, "Ah. And in private, well, your life is yours. If you want to fool around, by all means have at it! Just be discreet. Preferably wait until we're somewhere people don't know us."

An odd statement, perhaps, considering he'd just admitted to his own public escapades. But at the end of the day, Ka'lei was a former slave he'd dragged into the world of nobility.

She would be judged differently, as such.

Valor watched as she vented on the collar, and though he didn't understand her words at first, he didn't need to. The message came through loud and clear in her tone.

He waited quietly, not wanting to interrupt her well deserved catharsis. This moment was about her and for her, after all—which was a somewhat strange realization.

When was the last time he'd ever put someone else first?

His world was a selfish one. Everyone was out for themselves, vying for power and alliances for their own gain, even his own birth was just to add to the numbers game. He wasn't interested in any of that, despite his family's occasional and disastrous attempts to use him as a pawn, but it was still the reality of his existence. He lived for himself and for his own whims and fancies and screw everyone else, because they would screw him over too if he were important enough to bother with. But Ka'lei wasn't from his world. She existed so far outside it, in fact, that the same rules just didn't apply. And for whatever reason, this just...huh.

It felt good.

And it felt disgusting. This was what some nobility bought. People like Ka'lei. This was what a "slave" looked like. Only there would be no broken chains for those others toiling away in the Houses of people he knew.

Valor sucked in a breath when Ka'lei turned to him at last, bright-eyed in a new way, and he shoved the darker thoughts away. Perhaps he was a fool for what he was going to say next, but gods help him, after everything he'd seen...after this...the thought had been scratching at his mind since that moment in his room, but it was louder now like nails scraping metal, digging in deeper in a way he could no longer ignore.

"You're free," he said suddenly, meeting her eyes. "Truly. You can leave if you want to. I'm not going to make you stay or try to stop you, and it won't offend me if you go. You're not my prisoner, not anymore. But..."

He quirked a little smile, tone playful. "I'd definitely appreciate it if you're still down for our farce. And I'm still down to help you find your brother. I just want you to know that whatever you choose going forward is your choice. Entirely."

Ohhhhhh?

Peering into Wisselworth's eyes, Juniper's eyebrows rose the slightest bit as she studied him with genuine surprise—and, perhaps even more surprisingly, genuine respect. Well, well, wasn't this a twist? It seemed they had a common goal. Selenius owed Wissilworth. Selenius owed Rufus. Then Wolves wanted her to give the man a scare. Wissilworth wanted her to torture him. A little.

The stars in her little pocket of the universe had aligned. She would get to do her job—and she didn't even have to be sly about it now! She would get to spook him very, very publicly and something about that absolutely delighted her. Ahh, it seemed she may have misjudged this Wissilworth, silly name and all. The man had bite!

Even better? Even Constance seemed to hate the man. For the moment, at least, the three of them had a common enemy. Hopefully that would stall the bitch a little.

"So...just a little playful hazing, M'lord?" she whispered, their faces so close together it was bordering on uncomfortable, but she didn't dare look away. "I...I think I can do that. As long as it's nothing too...um...extreme?"

Yeah, right, she was going to make the man writhe.

"I can certainly try my best!" she concluded with a nod, eyes wandering to the assortment of gowns. Gods, she was going to feel as ridiculous and flashy as a peacock in those, but there was no going back to the comfort zone of anonymity; that ship had sailed and she was stranded on this island now for however long this played out. Holding in a sigh, Juniper turned from Wisselworth and scanned the selection, hoping for at least one discreet option, but saw none.

Ah. Fine.

"How do I even choose?" she mused, biting her lip in feigned indecision. Finally, she closed her eyes and pointed to a dress at random, which about summed up her fashion sense. "That one!"

And still Raxta only stared at her, blinking slowly.

"...Did the poison damage your brain?"

"A-ah! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Katxiel quickly said, waving her hands apologetically as a sudden spike of fear shot through her. It was a strange feeling, really. She wanted him to kill her--right? And yet the sight and sound of an angry, full-grown tiger snarling and hissing and baring all those sharp, massive teeth sent a primal wave of terror through her as instinct overrode logic.

She knew it was what had to happen. What she wanted to happen. But oh gods how her heart was racing as everything in her wanted to run. She shrank back from him, wincing, her mouth bone dry. Calm down, calm down, he wasn't a normal tiger, remember? He was a god. He could understand her.

Slowly, she drew in a shaky breath. "I-I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, I--" Wait a second. She paused, a frown creasing her face. "Really, it was an accident, but to be fair you did bite my butt! That kind of hurt too, you know!"

...That was a stellar point.

No, she probably wouldn't have trusted him in that scenario. Anybody with a brain and trust issues would suspect he was trying to lure them, not save them. Cadmus raised his eyes back to Raizel's, her hand warm in his, and felt some of the guilt drip away. Not much of it, it would be gnawing at his guts plenty, but it was enough to soften the edge.

Her hands found his shoulders, then cupped his cheeks, and he couldn't help but lean into her touch, just a little, as her warm hands stung against his cooler skin. Her logic was...well, it worked for their situation, he supposed, as long he didn't point out that he'd helped her out of a situation he had caused. But he kept that to himself. She was in a forgiving mood and she was also smart enough to know it, anyway.

Then came the straddle and stab comment, and daydreaming her scent? Gods. That got a soft snort-laugh out of him and a roll of his eyes. "I don't know that I let you, but sure. I stalked you, you stabbed me, it seems fair enough to call it even, so--deal. I forgive you, attempted murder and all. As for you?"

He lightly bumped his shoulder against hers. "What can I say? You smell nice."

With a sidelong glance at her and a little smile, he took off ahead of her. He didn't really know the way to the brewery from here, at least not by sight. He had been so focused on getting them the hell away that he hadn't paid attention to what alleys he'd cut through, or where Raizel had lead them once they were safe. But memory was linked so intimately to scent, and his sense of smell so strong, that he could find his way back with his eyes closed. It hadn't rained and their own scent-trail was still fresh, if faded, so all it would take was a little backtracking.

At first, the Grand Duke would only see his own face staring back at him. A second passed, two, and then his reflection began to warp and shift, the features of his face changing, softening, until a pale-skinned black-and-violet haired woman had taken his place, framed against a blue-velvet backdrop.

Qiana Di'Veera sat in her throne room, alone save for several advisors that sat just out of frame. She had had plenty of time to think this over and consider all angles, had talked it through with several strategists, and it still felt a bit insane--but also hopeful. The war in Connlaoth was long and bloody, a war that divided families and ended bloodlines. The people were tired, weary, and no doubt the entire nation was weakened from it pouring all their resources and bodies into conflict on their own soil. Connlaoth was no threat to Serendipity now of all times, not when they would have to pour their remaining resources into rebuilding, so the risk to them was low.

The whole situation was just curious.

They wanted peace.

And they wanted her nation's help.

And as Qiana looked into the man in the mirror's eyes, she couldn't help but wonder what a humbling experience this might be, to be using magic to speak to her on top of it all! He truly must be desperate to debase himself so, and she couldn't help but respect him for it. For putting his pride aside for his people.

"Grand Duke Calent Allarrick, you are most gracious for accepting this means of communication," she greeted with a small smile, meeting his eyes. "I understand this can't be comfortable for you, but I could think of no better alternative."

I'm sure I just did though, hmm? Khaiya's lips thinned as she shot him a sour look, but it was soon replaced by a soft gasp of pain when Bifrost lifted her arms. He was slow and gentle, but every touch and movement hurt as he examined her, though she held her breath through it and kept her complaints to herself.

It was nice he was talking, though, and didn't leave her hanging. It gave her something else to focus on outside the discomfort.

"I...I would think the most logical explanation would be that someone's lying," she said as she took the ends of the cloth. Oh boy. She'd talked big, hadn't she? Because as she started to wrap her own torso, it soon proved more difficult than she'd anticipated with her poor and painful mobility. Gods be damned, her pride reared its head in the most inconvenient of places; she'd always struggled to ask for help.

She let out a sharp breath through her teeth and paused after only doing one loop around herself. "I know you said your parents swore it, but...perhaps they did find you somewhere? Or someone was unfaith--mmm. Forgive me, I don't mean to talk poorly of your parents. It's not my place and they'd have to be kind people to put their prejudice aside for you. But I just know Connlaothians abandon mage children sometimes--or so I've heard."

Fujin's eyebrow twitched at the overt display, clearly not particularly enjoying seeing her adult son be so...overt with his foreign wife. She cleared her throat pointedly and took a  dainty bite of her food, while Kota did his novel best not to absolutely squirm.

"Morgan..." he whispered through grit teeth, his face heating vividly as she nuzzled him. Oh, he deserved this and he knew it, it was his fault they were "married" in the first place! But did she have to really get in kissing distance like this?!

"What did she say?" Fujin asked, and took another bite. "And can you do that nonsense privately? Preferably when I'm out of the house?"

"She, uh...she said the food's really good," Kota said weakly, his face burning all the hotter as he carefully started to pry himself from Morgan. "Morgan, honey, you're embarrassing her."

"It's a fabulous story! And you have such a way with words."

Makani flashed her a cheeky smile. Honestly, he was just curious to see how she'd spin this. He was fairly certain she wasn't going to go with honesty, because "I bound myself to some blood mage I bumped into in the jungle and we're in each other's heads" would probably sound rightly batshit and dangerous.

But hey, that was her choice to make and her consequences!

"Something smells amazing," he said as they moved into their home. "Gods, it's been a while since I've had a proper meal. I'll admit I'm a boring cook."

Oh goddess, please tell him he hadn't just saved the girl from lions only to send her off into a new arena to get killed by a horse. But Lani seemed so sure of herself, so confident, and Qismat liked to think he knew people enough to recognize someone who would run off to do what they wanted regardless of what he thought about it. Stubborn, so stubborn...but he let her work, even as a spike of anxiety caught his breath as she went into that stall. It was uncomfortable to spectate--but he would not intervene.

She was not his slave, after all.

Lani was speaking as casually as a storyteller around a campfire but Qismat barely heard her. He could focus on little else but she and Faraj, while mentally running through some quick worst case scenarios and regretting sending the healer away. From what he did catch of her tale, though, he was grateful at least to hear she had quick reflexes. 

Hopefully captivity hadn't dulled them.

Out into the yard they went, and so far so good, Lani was still unscathed. This seemed better than the stall; both of them had more space. But true to Qismat's observations, Faraj largely just wanted to be left alone. He wasn't a bad horse and he knew it, he wasn't mean because it was his nature, and he clearly didn't want to start a fight--though Qismat knew from past attempts that he would gladly finish it. He kept his distance while Lani calmly followed, and Qismat hardly realized she had stopped talking as he was gripped with both curiosity (what was her plan, exactly?) and unease.

When Lani told him to stay back, he didn't have to be told twice; he hadn't moved from his spot.

And it took everything in him not to shout out when the horse charged her.

And she just took it with stillness.

Qismat didn't realize he'd brought his hand to his mouth until his fingertip stung, because he'd bit the nail too close to the quick. Faraj hadn't hurt her; it had been a warning, a feint. But again and again he charged, and each time he braced for a disaster that didn't come until, finally, Qismat let out a held breath and forced himself to relax. Faraj didn't want to hurt her, but more than that, something was happening between the two of them. The charge was becoming more like a dance, Lani less a passive participant and more of a leading role, calmly assertive and confident. Faraj's ears were no longer pinned, and...was she directing him, now?

He watched the two, no longer tense with anxiety and more just...curious. There seemed to be an understanding between the two of them as they spoke a language he couldn't understand--plains girl and plains horse.

Hmm...

Stillness soon followed, and then the impossible: Faraj reached out to Lani.

And then he was off, and the magic dispelled.

Lani returned, acting for all the world like she hadn't just faced down a thousand pound beast that could stomp her into a pulp if she looked at him wrong. He let out a held breath as she spoke, nodding--scared, right, well he had scared the shit out of him for a moment there!--and for a moment he said nothing, seeming to mull something over.

"Do you want him?" he said at last.

Holy shit, Emery thought, at first concerned she may have gone too far too fast despite what he'd told her earlier--and then transfixed as those scarlet eyes met hers. There was a kaleidoscope of emotion within them: passion, maybe a little fear mixed with the excitement, and her heart beat all the quicker for it. This was a man that slayed unimaginable monsters, a man that could throw her off and pin her quicker than she could blink...

...and he was utterly and completely at her mercy because he wanted to be there. Because he trusted her, and she him.

God, she had never been exposed to magic until he came along; perhaps she was enchanted.

And at this point? Fuck it.

Alkereth was her instrument and he performed beautifully, letting himself go, freely letting himself indulge, crying his pleasure--and it was too much. His whimpers, his helpless squirming, his fluttering pulse, the adorable expressions he made, his shameless proclamation that he was her princess--oh God, she could never in a million years have predicted that such a goofy, offhand nickname would soon be the thing boiling her over with a thrill of possessiveness, yet here she was, and he was hers. She didn't understand that feeling; she didn't want to. But it didn't matter, right?

All that mattered was the moment.

"That's my princess...good boy," she gasped out, hand tightening just a little on his throat, just enough to add a little pressure, a little extra danger, but no more. More was a discussion for later. She pressed her lips against his to muffle a whimper, nibbling sharply, trembling with the effort of holding back; he could no doubt feel it as she clenched around him. Just a little longer. "I think that deserves a treat. Would my princess like that?" And with an impish smile, she kissed his nose. "No cumming. Otherwise no treat."

That might be difficult to impossible for him and she knew it--going a second time was impressive enough already, bless his otherworldly genes!--but it was fun to watch him squirm.

Releasing her hold on him, she rode him in earnest then, grabbing one of his hands and bringing it between her legs with a clear message. It didn't take much, worked up as she was, the feeling of him stretching and filling her again and again, her eyes locked on his, driving her to the brink--and then over it. Head thrown back, she cried out as heat and pleasure flooded her and she trembled and tightened around him, and still she rode him through the release, desperately squeezing out every last drop of ecstasy that she could.

I think she just likes to be dramatic.

Hayate's head whipped around to stare at Risa in genuine surprise—shock, even!—that the shy, bumbling girl would speak of her own mother so frankly, so disrespectfully! Her! It wasn't an insult exactly but it was more than he expected to hear coming from her and, quite frankly, he wasn't really used to such talk. He couldn't even fathom saying such a thing about his own parents! 

He blinked at her, eyebrows raised—and then, suddenly, he snorted.

The sound surprised even him, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. It wasn't even that funny! It was just so brazen, so surprising coming from her of all people. But suddenly he was fighting back laughter, amused at her frankness, embarrassed at his own loud snort, and the combination of the two only amused him all the more. 

He cleared his throat loudly, swallowing down the giggles (Inima help him, perhaps he was just sleep deprived) and rolled his shoulders back as though that would help him regain his composure.

"Ah. Yes. Right. Ahem, I get exposed often enough, but it's more coincidental. Like when I'm organizing manuscripts and books and scrolls and such, but it's not really part of my area of research. Just a passing curiosity really. Now you," he said, pointing at her, the amusement not quite faded.

"What's this about your birth?"

Valor didn't hesitate. He didn't dare make her wait any longer, for she had waited too long already—and gods but he felt like such an asshole now for having her wait as long as she had in the first place. For the first few hours of knowing her, the whole thing hadn't felt real, in a way. Like, he knew slaves were a thing, of course, but he'd never interacted with one. He'd never looked an imprisoned person in the eyes and seen their real fear or the way their hands shook or heard their story. It had always been an abstract idea in his privileged world and some part of him still hadn't fully grasped that she was a real real slave, and not just the fun and games type Pari had mistaken her for.

The moment Ka'lei pulled her hair to the side, Valor reached up gently and turned the key in the lock.

Click.

The collar fell to the cobblestones with a metallic clatter and she was truly free. Well, free save for the paperwork, but free enough still that she could run if she wanted—and he wouldn't have the heart to chase her. Well, no, that was a lie; he'd chase, but not to keep her against her will. 

He'd just chase because...well...

Well what?

Shaking the thought away, not daring to find out where it lead, he stepped around her again so he could face her and raise his eyes to hers. "You'll never again wear a piece of metal you don't choose for yourself," he told her, offering up a small smile, his own a little strangely uncertain. This was brand new territory for him. "The only metal that belongs on you is silver and gold adorned with jewels and given as a gift."

The girl looked skeptical, still brandishing her bottle like a sword as she watched the duo. But as her eyes flicked over the scratches on Lanai's arms, it seemed like the pieces began to click into place as the pair's story aligned without contradiction—and with physical proof, too. Her shoulders relaxed a little, but her eyes remained narrowed.

"How do I know you're not in league with the demon...?" she said slowly, and Simonea let out a loud, exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling.

"For goodness sakes, dear heart, if we wanted to harm you we wouldn't need to be so coy about it! The demon was terrorizing your village long before either of us got here and it didn't have to pretend to be a kind stranger to do it!"

Striding forward, she plucked the bottle from the girl's hands before she could say anything, and gently set it back in its place. The girl jumped and took a couple steps back, but it seemed the fight had gone out of her, even if a healthy wariness remained—with most of that wariness was focused on Lanai.

"With that silliness out of the way, do you have a healer here, child?" The girl shook her head, and Simonea sighed, her wings drooping. "Soap and water it is, then! Come Lanai, I'll take you to my room." And with a pat on the girl's head, she passed by her and motioned Lanai to follow her.

No response. Not that she had been expecting one, since he was a tiger. Instead, she was soon being marched along back toward the den and considering his hold on her butt and those teeth holding on, she had no choice but to move where he directed her.

"Oh come on, really?!"

This was...so beyond humiliating. Katxiel flushed, her skin hot clear down her chest, and stared at the ground as she stumbled along. She only had an audience of one—a bloody tiger!—but it was still absolutely mortifying being lead around with a mouth on her bottom! Why her? Why this? What deity had she pissed off so completely that this would be her fate instead of eternity?

Her woe-is-me thoughts cut off when he shook his head—and if she hadn't been in the middle of taking a step, it might have done nothing more than throw her off a little. Instead, she pitched over with a surprised yelp, throwing out a hand—and grabbing onto one of his ears.