Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

[Meg]

@Cracklord: Nice job. Some minor grammatical errors, nothing too bad.

Wow. Looks like we're almost to 50 pages again. Yowza. Now I need to actually work on my homework. Oy.

[Water-Smurf]

Mmm... Sorry for not replying. I have the flu and I've been in a half-conscious daze all of yesterday and today. I'll reply once my Internet is more stable, I don't randomly fall asleep while I'm doing stuff, and the room stops spinning.

And yet I still write. Obsessive, no?

Spoiler

Show

Vaarsuvius barely picked at his breakfast, Durkon noted. Dark circles were under his eyes as though he had been viciously punched in both of them. Gray veins were slightly more visible under his skin. His fingers trembled faintly but noticeably. He seemed to have shrunk in on himself, as if he had been polymorphed into a praying mantis or some other scrawny bug.

The marks of not trancing.

Durkon kept his concerns to himself, but everyone, Elan especially, looked from V to the cleric expectantly at least once, telling Durkon with their eyes that they wanted him to fix their elf. He gave them all the same response. A slight dip of his head. He had sat by and only offered words to Vaarsuvius once—he wouldn’t do it again.

But now wasn’t the time to try to coax Vaarsuvius out of his protective shell.

“Shojo told us that Girard’s Gate is protected by illusions. V, Durkon, do you have anything that you think can counter that?”

Durkon nodded. “Aye. Took a while t’ find anythin’, though.”

“I have a few spells I prepared today for such things. It will help us find the gate and dispel some of the initial illusions, but I doubt that such a cunning man would have left only illusions to protect the gate. Clever illusionists tend to mix reality with dreams.” Vaarsuvius put down the untouched food on the blanket they were eating on, the raven on his shoulder jumping down and pecking at what was left.

“So, in short, keep your guard up and your senses sharp,” Roy said quietly, frowning at the full plate but not commenting.

Belkar didn’t seem so inclined. “Hey, Ears, if you’re going to go anorexic on us, Mr. Scruffy calls dibs on the scraps.”

Vaarsuvius shrugged and made a small dismissive gesture. The cat padded up across from Blackwing and started eating. The bird didn’t seem to mind. Neither animal needed too much to eat.

“Shall I start the spell to find the gate?”

“Go ahead, V. We’ll pack up camp.”

Durkon watched Vaarsuvius pull out a scroll and lace gray fingers together, readying himself to perform the spell. Durkon noted that the elf seemed a little more… feminine today. Maybe it was the light or something. Durkon couldn’t really tell if he or she was a man or woman or something in between, even on a good day. He turned away and started taking down the tents.

---

“Shouldn’t we be trying to check this place for traps before we go in?”

Tsukiko groaned in discomfort, squirming and disrupting the visibility through the illusion.

“Tsukiko, stop moving around and just help me keep the illusion off.”

Redcloak scowled at the Theurge, the magic running through his veins straining and starting to heat up at the exertion that was being put into the temporary abatement of the illusion. Trying to keep his feet from sinking too far in the sand didn’t help his concentration. Xykon took his sweet time, strolling to the sandstone door in the ground, kicking it a little to see how solid it was…

“Xykon!”

“You both are wimps.” Xykon smirked and opened up the door into the dungeon. The monster’s glowing gold eyes pinched slightly in a big smile and he lumbered inside.

“Oh goody! It was getting hot out here.”

The wind picked up suddenly, a cloud of sand forming, and grains started whipping their faces. Visibility was disrupted. The desert itself had sensed the intruders, roaring and trying to swallow them up before any secrets could be revealed.

Xykon waved his hand in front of his face. “Sand’s hell trying to get out of my joints. And eyes. And… well, everything that can get sand in it.” He quickly walked into the dungeon, leaving behind two swearing minions.

“Dammit! Sandstorm’s here.”

Tsukiko let out a swear and a shouted ‘it’s in my eyes!’ before Redcloak dropped his hands, grabbing the necromancer’s arm roughly and jumping into the dungeon just before the illusion settled back. Xykon shoved the door closed behind them, letting the sandstorm rage.

“I don’t know if that was enchantment or coincidence,” Redcloak muttered, letting Tsukiko go and brushing sand off of himself. His very blood ached from the divine magic he had focused through it, and he could tell by Tsukiko’s stifled whimpers that she felt the same way. They both just wanted to curl up and sleep for the next two decades, but Redcloak was well-aware that they wouldn’t be allowed two minutes.

The passage they had come into was pitch black, the scent of sulfur coming off of the walls, as though they had been saturated with it. Redcloak coughed, breathing in a little too much dust for his liking.

The tunnel promptly lit up.

It wasn’t the cheerful light of electricity or the atmospheric light of torches. The walls, ceiling, and floor themselves lit up, completely phosphorescent and casting a green glow on everything, giving Tsukiko the look of deathly illness and Xykon the look of being overgrown by moss. The monster started shifting nervously, but thankfully not so much that he brought the entire dungeon down on their heads. “Redcloak, what’s this?”

“Girard was an illusionist. Illusionists don’t work with force—they work with the mind.” Redcloak glanced back at the group. “The enchantments are probably designed to play on our fears and desires. It’s predictable. We’ll be separated at some point, we’ll be shown dead family members, we’ll have monsters under the bed coming out randomly and trying to chase us out, we’ll get little pixies promising ultimate power popping up… Just ignore what any of them do. As long as you can’t touch them, they’re not there.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know how illusions work, Reddy.” Xykon started walking, leading his three subordinates through the twisting tunnel, going deeper and deeper in the radioactive green depths. “Hey, who wants to bet on how long it’ll take until we get to a split in the tunnel with exactly four routes?”

“My money’s on twenty minutes,” the Theurge piped up.

“I’d say even less. Fifteen gold pieces to who wins.”

“You’re on.”

The competition seemed to make Tsukiko get a little more color and life in her face.

Xykon won the bet.

---

When the sandstorm started, the entire Order hunkered down, doing their best to shield each other with their bodies and what little of the tents they could put up without fear of losing them. Belkar kept Mr. Scruffy securely in his arms and Blackwing clung to Vaarsuvius’s shoulder the whole time. Roy kept within arm’s length of Vaarsuvius and Belkar, a little nervous that either of them could be overwhelmed by the storm or blown away because of their light weights. Neither showed signs of yielding. Vaarsuvius concentrated what magic could help into the storm, trying to protect everyone from the tiny yet deadly projectiles being thrown around in the wind at ridiculous speeds. It mostly worked.

The Order all scuttled into the safety of the elf’s magical barriers, quickly putting up the most sturdy tent they could and going into it. Vaarsuvius started swaying, head spinning, before the elf staggered and zipped into the tent.

“By Thor!” Durkon forced the flimsy ‘door’ shut after Vaarsuvius came in, doing his best to keep the sand out. “Tha’ started too quickly t’ be natural.”

“I believe that we are getting close to the gate.”

Vaarsuvius let the purple ponytail out, shaking out the sand. Durkon frowned a little as the hair fell against the elf’s chest. Vaarsuvius was definitely looking a little more feminine.

Belkar ran his hands through the mewing Mr. Scruffy’s fur, getting as much sand out as possible. “The Scruffster wasn’t meant to be in the desert.”

“With any luck, we’ll be out soon.” Roy leaned back, doing another quick headcount in his head. He had no desire to repeat the ‘Losing Durkon’ incident in Dorukon’s Gate. “We’re getting closer to the gate, if Shojo’s directions are anything to go by.”

“Are we sure he wasn’t just pulling our legs again?” Haley half-joked, helping Elan get sand out of his hair.

“He was a manipulative old man, but I can’t see a reason he’d trick us about that.” Roy quietly thanked the gods that he had decided to shave his head in college. It would have been hell to get sand out of his hair. “Let’s try to sleep through this. Night was coming along anyway and it doesn’t look like this will let up.”

“I will stay awake as a lookout,” Vaarsuvius immediately volunteered, provoking a surprised caw from Blackwing and strange looks from everyone in the tent. Belkar shrugged, but Roy leaned forward in concern.

“V, you—”

“Fine, then. Ye ought t’ get somethin’ in ye, first.”

Roy looked at Durkon in confusion, but everyone, after brief hesitation, decided to trust his judgment. The dwarf pulled out what little rations they had for everyone, passing them out.

Vaarsuvius understood the unspoken tension about the elf’s health, and to put the adventurers’ minds mostly at rest, the mage tried to eat a little more this time. The mage abandoned the meal after eating half, allowing the animals among the group to finish it off. Few others left so much as a scrap after the strenuous day.

The elf loosely wrapped thin arms around a tiny body, eyes slightly glazed, and after a moment Roy scooted a little closer.

“V, is there something wrong?”

The elf didn’t respond, eyes fixed on the ground.

“V?” Roy frowned, reaching out to touch the elf’s shoulder.

“A dinnae suggest doin’ tha’, lad.” Durkon put his clean plate next to the elf’s. “‘E’s out cold. Th’ elven equivalent, anyway.” He flashed a small pouch filled with what looked like pills, smirking, before he put it in his pocket.

There was silence. Then Belkar burst out in laughter.

“You drugged V?!”

“Na’ if ‘e asks.” Durkon smirked privately, taking off his heavy armor, leaving just simple leather garments on. “If’n ‘e asks, ‘e jus’ sudd’nly started trancin’ so hard tha’ ‘e didn’ ‘ave any dreams on ‘is own an’ we decided t’ let ‘im keep doin’ that. I’ll handle th’ first watch shift.”

After another bout of laughter, Belkar’s short attention span came into play and he designated a drugged but trancing Vaarsuvius too boring to pay attention to anymore, so he and Elan started watching Mr. Scruffy bat some string.

Vaarsuvius’s raven swooped to the elf’s lap, looking up at the dull trancing face, shifting his weight from foot to foot and fluffing up his feathers. “Hey, any chance you have more of whatever you used? I’m thinking that it’d be a good idea for me to keep some for V.”

Haley frowned at the bird, taking out one of her arrows and checking it for damage from the sandstorm. “You can talk?”

“Of course I can.” The raven stretched out his neck, glaring a little. “Not like any of you would know.”

“You don’t get enough attention?” Haley smiled, grabbing some scraps from her plate and holding them out to the bird. “Will this make up for it?”

“Maybe.” The raven hopped to the rogue’s hand, pecking at the food. “So anyway, whatever you used on V…?”

Roy shifted, emptying his sheath of sand, frowning at the bird. Durkon arched his eyebrow, leaning back and taking the opportunity presented to him. “I gotta few questions first, lad.”

“If they have to do with V, then I’m not answering them.” The raven continued pecking the rogue’s hand. “I have some loyalty, you know.”

“Think o’ it as loyalty t’ the point where ye won’t let ‘im destroy ‘imself.”

Blackwing looked up, cocking his head, expression unreadable. “Are you going to give me what you gave V or not?”

Durkon frowned, recognizing defeat when he saw it, and pulled out the tiny pouch of small white capsules filled with powder. “They’re strong. Jus’ one an’ ye can’t think straight fer at least eight hours. They’re usually meant t’ help out people in mournin’ or wit’ nightmares. I figured whate’er was botherin’ V at night ‘ad t’ do with memories durin’ trance. It wasn’t like ‘e was obsessin’ o’er spells again.”

Blackwing stuck out his foot, letting the dwarf tie the small bag to his leg. It was so small that it was hidden when he fluffed up his feathers. “Thanks. I think that I’m going to sleep now.”

The bird stared at the adventurers suspiciously and hopped into Vaarsuvius’s lap, leaning against the elf’s abdomen and falling to sleep.

---

“This next spell is going to stain clothes.”

Vaarsuvius looked up at Aarindarius curiously, violet eyes wide and hands resting lightly on the table. The child’s abdomen was hurting, but that could have been hunger. The wizard looked down at the apprentice, smiling, and lightly patted the purple hair before opening one of the many drawers in the study, pulling out a color-splattered robe and gray undergarments. “It isn’t a very useful spell in the long run, but it is excellent for learning the principles of the manipulation of things outside of yourself. Quite popular among little children, if you ever find yourself trying to entertain them. Change into these before we start.”

The child nodded, smiling, and took the clothes before scampering down out of the room and into a bathroom, glad that Aarindarius wouldn’t help get the clothes off and on as Parent and Other Parent were wont to do.

The child’s growing breasts felt a little sore, but that could be ignored. They’d felt that way for a while. It was a little harder to ignore the pained abdomen, but Vaarsuvius was sure that it was just because of hunger.

It was a little harder to explain away when Vaarsuvius slipped off her underwear to see blood, and a trail of crimson started down the inside of a pale leg.

More blood started dripping down, leaving a trail of sticky warmth and staining white skin until it hit the dark wooden floor.

Vaarsuvius shrieked, haphazardly putting on the red robe again, and ran out of the bathroom. “Aarindarius!”

The teacher was at the doorway already, alarmed by the scream and coming to see if Vaarsuvius was alright, and caught the hysterical child in his thin arms, holding the apprentice close. “Vaarsuvius! Vaarsuvius, what is wrong?!”

“I’m dying! Aarindarius, I’m dying!”

Aarindarius blinked in surprise, keeping his grip around the young apprentice tight. “Dying? Why do you think that you are dying?”

Vaarsuvius shook and tears streamed out of big violet eyes as the child opened the robe up just enough to show the trails of blood down the insides of her legs. “Is there enough time to go to Parent and Other Parent and tell them that I love them?”

Aarindarius’s eyebrows went up and his face flushed a little, gentle hands rubbing the child’s back. “Oh, Suvie…” The wizard knelt down so their eyes were level, hands clutching tiny hands. “Has this ever happened to you before?”

The little apprentice shook her head quickly, sniffing and blinking against the tears staining pale cheeks.

“Suvie, you’re not dying.” Aarindarius smiled, raising a hand and gently wiping the child’s face free of tears. “Your body is just telling you that you are a young woman. It is something that happens to girls around your age—you bleed from between your legs. It’s a little alarming if you don’t expect it, but it’s just a sign that your body is working properly.”

Vaarsuvius sniffed, shakes starting to recede. “Really? So I’m not dying?”

“No, little one.” Aarindarius did something that he rarely did. He kissed the child’s forehead tenderly. “I will explain it to you once you are cleaned up. You may use my bath and I will bring you something that other women use to handle the bleeding.”

Vaarsuvius nodded, swallowing, feeling suddenly ashamed by the outburst. “Thank you.”

“Do not feel embarrassed. Your parents should have informed you of this before. I’ll tell you everything I know about it.”

The child nodded, then slowly smiled. “Thank you, Aarindarius.”

*crawls back into bed and naps*

[Meg]

Mmm... Sorry for not replying. I have the flu and I've been in a half-conscious daze all of yesterday and today. I'll reply once my Internet is more stable, I don't randomly fall asleep while I'm doing stuff, and the room stops spinning.

And yet I still write. Obsessive, no?

Spoiler

Show

Vaarsuvius barely picked at his breakfast, Durkon noted. Dark circles were under his eyes as though he had been viciously punched in both of them. Gray veins were slightly more visible under his skin. His fingers trembled faintly but noticeably. He seemed to have shrunk in on himself, as if he had been polymorphed into a praying mantis or some other scrawny bug.

The marks of not trancing.

Durkon kept his concerns to himself, but everyone, Elan especially, looked from V to the cleric expectantly at least once, telling Durkon with their eyes that they wanted him to fix their elf. He gave them all the same response. A slight dip of his head. He had sat by and only offered words to Vaarsuvius once—he wouldn’t do it again.

But now wasn’t the time to try to coax Vaarsuvius out of his protective shell.

“Shojo told us that Girard’s Gate is protected by illusions. V, Durkon, do you have anything that you think can counter that?”

Durkon nodded. “Aye. Took a while t’ find anythin’, though.”

“I have a few spells I prepared today for such things. It will help us find the gate and dispel some of the initial illusions, but I doubt that such a cunning man would have left only illusions to protect the gate. Clever illusionists tend to mix reality with dreams.” Vaarsuvius put down the untouched food on the blanket they were eating on, the raven on his shoulder jumping down and pecking at what was left.

“So, in short, keep your guard up and your senses sharp,” Roy said quietly, frowning at the full plate but not commenting.

Belkar didn’t seem so inclined. “Hey, Ears, if you’re going to go anorexic on us, Mr. Scruffy calls dibs on the scraps.”

Vaarsuvius shrugged and made a small dismissive gesture. The cat padded up across from Blackwing and started eating. The bird didn’t seem to mind. Neither animal needed too much to eat.

“Shall I start the spell to find the gate?”

“Go ahead, V. We’ll pack up camp.”

Durkon watched Vaarsuvius pull out a scroll and lace gray fingers together, readying himself to perform the spell. Durkon noted that the elf seemed a little more… feminine today. Maybe it was the light or something. Durkon couldn’t really tell if he or she was a man or woman or something in between, even on a good day. He turned away and started taking down the tents.

---

“Shouldn’t we be trying to check this place for traps before we go in?”

Tsukiko groaned in discomfort, squirming and disrupting the visibility through the illusion.

“Tsukiko, stop moving around and just help me keep the illusion off.”

Redcloak scowled at the Theurge, the magic running through his veins straining and starting to heat up at the exertion that was being put into the temporary abatement of the illusion. Trying to keep his feet from sinking too far in the sand didn’t help his concentration. Xykon took his sweet time, strolling to the sandstone door in the ground, kicking it a little to see how solid it was…

“Xykon!”

“You both are wimps.” Xykon smirked and opened up the door into the dungeon. The monster’s glowing gold eyes pinched slightly in a big smile and he lumbered inside.

“Oh goody! It was getting hot out here.”

The wind picked up suddenly, a cloud of sand forming, and grains started whipping their faces. Visibility was disrupted. The desert itself had sensed the intruders, roaring and trying to swallow them up before any secrets could be revealed.

Xykon waved his hand in front of his face. “Sand’s hell trying to get out of my joints. And eyes. And… well, everything that can get sand in it.” He quickly walked into the dungeon, leaving behind two swearing minions.

“Dammit! Sandstorm’s here.”

Tsukiko let out a swear and a shouted ‘it’s in my eyes!’ before Redcloak dropped his hands, grabbing the necromancer’s arm roughly and jumping into the dungeon just before the illusion settled back. Xykon shoved the door closed behind them, letting the sandstorm rage.

“I don’t know if that was enchantment or coincidence,” Redcloak muttered, letting Tsukiko go and brushing sand off of himself. His very blood ached from the divine magic he had focused through it, and he could tell by Tsukiko’s stifled whimpers that she felt the same way. They both just wanted to curl up and sleep for the next two decades, but Redcloak was well-aware that they wouldn’t be allowed two minutes.

The passage they had come into was pitch black, the scent of sulfur coming off of the walls, as though they had been saturated with it. Redcloak coughed, breathing in a little too much dust for his liking.

The tunnel promptly lit up.

It wasn’t the cheerful light of electricity or the atmospheric light of torches. The walls, ceiling, and floor themselves lit up, completely phosphorescent and casting a green glow on everything, giving Tsukiko the look of deathly illness and Xykon the look of being overgrown by moss. The monster started shifting nervously, but thankfully not so much that he brought the entire dungeon down on their heads. “Redcloak, what’s this?”

“Girard was an illusionist. Illusionists don’t work with force—they work with the mind.” Redcloak glanced back at the group. “The enchantments are probably designed to play on our fears and desires. It’s predictable. We’ll be separated at some point, we’ll be shown dead family members, we’ll have monsters under the bed coming out randomly and trying to chase us out, we’ll get little pixies promising ultimate power popping up… Just ignore what any of them do. As long as you can’t touch them, they’re not there.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know how illusions work, Reddy.” Xykon started walking, leading his three subordinates through the twisting tunnel, going deeper and deeper in the radioactive green depths. “Hey, who wants to bet on how long it’ll take until we get to a split in the tunnel with exactly four routes?”

“My money’s on twenty minutes,” the Theurge piped up.

“I’d say even less. Fifteen gold pieces to who wins.”

“You’re on.”

The competition seemed to make Tsukiko get a little more color and life in her face.

Xykon won the bet.

---

When the sandstorm started, the entire Order hunkered down, doing their best to shield each other with their bodies and what little of the tents they could put up without fear of losing them. Belkar kept Mr. Scruffy securely in his arms and Blackwing clung to Vaarsuvius’s shoulder the whole time. Roy kept within arm’s length of Vaarsuvius and Belkar, a little nervous that either of them could be overwhelmed by the storm or blown away because of their light weights. Neither showed signs of yielding. Vaarsuvius concentrated what magic could help into the storm, trying to protect everyone from the tiny yet deadly projectiles being thrown around in the wind at ridiculous speeds. It mostly worked.

The Order all scuttled into the safety of the elf’s magical barriers, quickly putting up the most sturdy tent they could and going into it. Vaarsuvius started swaying, head spinning, before the elf staggered and zipped into the tent.

“By Thor!” Durkon forced the flimsy ‘door’ shut after Vaarsuvius came in, doing his best to keep the sand out. “Tha’ started too quickly t’ be natural.”

“I believe that we are getting close to the gate.”

Vaarsuvius let the purple ponytail out, shaking out the sand. Durkon frowned a little as the hair fell against the elf’s chest. Vaarsuvius was definitely looking a little more feminine.

Belkar ran his hands through the mewing Mr. Scruffy’s fur, getting as much sand out as possible. “The Scruffster wasn’t meant to be in the desert.”

“With any luck, we’ll be out soon.” Roy leaned back, doing another quick headcount in his head. He had no desire to repeat the ‘Losing Durkon’ incident in Dorukon’s Gate. “We’re getting closer to the gate, if Shojo’s directions are anything to go by.”

“Are we sure he wasn’t just pulling our legs again?” Haley half-joked, helping Elan get sand out of his hair.

“He was a manipulative old man, but I can’t see a reason he’d trick us about that.” Roy quietly thanked the gods that he had decided to shave his head in college. It would have been hell to get sand out of his hair. “Let’s try to sleep through this. Night was coming along anyway and it doesn’t look like this will let up.”

“I will stay awake as a lookout,” Vaarsuvius immediately volunteered, provoking a surprised caw from Blackwing and strange looks from everyone in the tent. Belkar shrugged, but Roy leaned forward in concern.

“V, you—”

“Fine, then. Ye ought t’ get somethin’ in ye, first.”

Roy looked at Durkon in confusion, but everyone, after brief hesitation, decided to trust his judgment. The dwarf pulled out what little rations they had for everyone, passing them out.

Vaarsuvius understood the unspoken tension about the elf’s health, and to put the adventurers’ minds mostly at rest, the mage tried to eat a little more this time. The mage abandoned the meal after eating half, allowing the animals among the group to finish it off. Few others left so much as a scrap after the strenuous day.

The elf loosely wrapped thin arms around a tiny body, eyes slightly glazed, and after a moment Roy scooted a little closer.

“V, is there something wrong?”

The elf didn’t respond, eyes fixed on the ground.

“V?” Roy frowned, reaching out to touch the elf’s shoulder.

“A dinnae suggest doin’ tha’, lad.” Durkon put his clean plate next to the elf’s. “‘E’s out cold. Th’ elven equivalent, anyway.” He flashed a small pouch filled with what looked like pills, smirking, before he put it in his pocket.

There was silence. Then Belkar burst out in laughter.

“You drugged V?!”

“Na’ if ‘e asks.” Durkon smirked privately, taking off his heavy armor, leaving just simple leather garments on. “If’n ‘e asks, ‘e jus’ sudd’nly started trancin’ so hard tha’ ‘e didn’ ‘ave any dreams on ‘is own an’ we decided t’ let ‘im keep doin’ that. I’ll handle th’ first watch shift.”

After another bout of laughter, Belkar’s short attention span came into play and he designated a drugged but trancing Vaarsuvius too boring to pay attention to anymore, so he and Elan started watching Mr. Scruffy bat some string.

Vaarsuvius’s raven swooped to the elf’s lap, looking up at the dull trancing face, shifting his weight from foot to foot and fluffing up his feathers. “Hey, any chance you have more of whatever you used? I’m thinking that it’d be a good idea for me to keep some for V.”

Haley frowned at the bird, taking out one of her arrows and checking it for damage from the sandstorm. “You can talk?”

“Of course I can.” The raven stretched out his neck, glaring a little. “Not like any of you would know.”

“You don’t get enough attention?” Haley smiled, grabbing some scraps from her plate and holding them out to the bird. “Will this make up for it?”

“Maybe.” The raven hopped to the rogue’s hand, pecking at the food. “So anyway, whatever you used on V…?”

Roy shifted, emptying his sheath of sand, frowning at the bird. Durkon arched his eyebrow, leaning back and taking the opportunity presented to him. “I gotta few questions first, lad.”

“If they have to do with V, then I’m not answering them.” The raven continued pecking the rogue’s hand. “I have some loyalty, you know.”

“Think o’ it as loyalty t’ the point where ye won’t let ‘im destroy ‘imself.”

Blackwing looked up, cocking his head, expression unreadable. “Are you going to give me what you gave V or not?”

Durkon frowned, recognizing defeat when he saw it, and pulled out the tiny pouch of small white capsules filled with powder. “They’re strong. Jus’ one an’ ye can’t think straight fer at least eight hours. They’re usually meant t’ help out people in mournin’ or wit’ nightmares. I figured whate’er was botherin’ V at night ‘ad t’ do with memories durin’ trance. It wasn’t like ‘e was obsessin’ o’er spells again.”

Blackwing stuck out his foot, letting the dwarf tie the small bag to his leg. It was so small that it was hidden when he fluffed up his feathers. “Thanks. I think that I’m going to sleep now.”

The bird stared at the adventurers suspiciously and hopped into Vaarsuvius’s lap, leaning against the elf’s abdomen and falling to sleep.

---

“This next spell is going to stain clothes.”

Vaarsuvius looked up at Aarindarius curiously, violet eyes wide and hands resting lightly on the table. The child’s abdomen was hurting, but that could have been hunger. The wizard looked down at the apprentice, smiling, and lightly patted the purple hair before opening one of the many drawers in the study, pulling out a color-splattered robe and gray undergarments. “It isn’t a very useful spell in the long run, but it is excellent for learning the principles of the manipulation of things outside of yourself. Quite popular among little children, if you ever find yourself trying to entertain them. Change into these before we start.”

The child nodded, smiling, and took the clothes before scampering down out of the room and into a bathroom, glad that Aarindarius wouldn’t help get the clothes off and on as Parent and Other Parent were wont to do.

The child’s growing breasts felt a little sore, but that could be ignored. They’d felt that way for a while. It was a little harder to ignore the pained abdomen, but Vaarsuvius was sure that it was just because of hunger.

It was a little harder to explain away when Vaarsuvius slipped off her underwear to see blood, and a trail of crimson started down the inside of a pale leg.

More blood started dripping down, leaving a trail of sticky warmth and staining white skin until it hit the dark wooden floor.

Vaarsuvius shrieked, haphazardly putting on the red robe again, and ran out of the bathroom. “Aarindarius!”

The teacher was at the doorway already, alarmed by the scream and coming to see if Vaarsuvius was alright, and caught the hysterical child in his thin arms, holding the apprentice close. “Vaarsuvius! Vaarsuvius, what is wrong?!”

“I’m dying! Aarindarius, I’m dying!”

Aarindarius blinked in surprise, keeping his grip around the young apprentice tight. “Dying? Why do you think that you are dying?”

Vaarsuvius shook and tears streamed out of big violet eyes as the child opened the robe up just enough to show the trails of blood down the insides of her legs. “Is there enough time to go to Parent and Other Parent and tell them that I love them?”

Aarindarius’s eyebrows went up and his face flushed a little, gentle hands rubbing the child’s back. “Oh, Suvie…” The wizard knelt down so their eyes were level, hands clutching tiny hands. “Has this ever happened to you before?”

The little apprentice shook her head quickly, sniffing and blinking against the tears staining pale cheeks.

“Suvie, you’re not dying.” Aarindarius smiled, raising a hand and gently wiping the child’s face free of tears. “Your body is just telling you that you are a young woman. It is something that happens to girls around your age—you bleed from between your legs. It’s a little alarming if you don’t expect it, but it’s just a sign that your body is working properly.”

Vaarsuvius sniffed, shakes starting to recede. “Really? So I’m not dying?”

“No, little one.” Aarindarius did something that he rarely did. He kissed the child’s forehead tenderly. “I will explain it to you once you are cleaned up. You may use my bath and I will bring you something that other women use to handle the bleeding.”

Vaarsuvius nodded, swallowing, feeling suddenly ashamed by the outburst. “Thank you.”

“Do not feel embarrassed. Your parents should have informed you of this before. I’ll tell you everything I know about it.”

The child nodded, then slowly smiled. “Thank you, Aarindarius.”

*crawls back into bed and naps*

Sorry to hear you're sick. That sucks. (I'm observant, no?)

Once again, great job.

[CoffeeIncluded]

Sorry you're sick. Wish I could send chicken soup over the internet.

Really nice chapter though...Though you'd think that V's parents would, you know, tell her beforehand...

[The Dark Fiddler]

Sorry you're sick. Wish I could send chicken soup over the internet.

Really nice chapter though...Though you'd think that V's parents would, you know, tell her beforehand...

@First problem: I'm working on that. Should be done... in a few decade.

@Second problem: I, personally, was more surprised that knowledgeable Vaarsuvius hadn't know it would happen already.

Guess they had nothing like the internet back then, or she surely would have found out.

[CoffeeIncluded]

Or talked to her friends.

You still freak out a bit when it first happens (I know I did), but not to that extent.

[Cracklord]

Part four, and it's just getting good.
Not as long as I'd like.

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Belkar hung from the chains like a slab of meat in a slaughterhouse, the hooks tearing cruelly into his back, his weight sliding them deeper under his skin.

The devil held still for a few moments, staring at him appraisingly. Reaching up, the figure undid the clasp around his neck, his robes falling away. A beauty so pure it was terrifying greeted Belkar in that instant, something alien, beyond the ability of his mind to accept. Something struck the Halfling with a wanton heat, a hunger so intensely sexual his body could not determine his desires.

Belkar recognized the wings, the flawless form, the unearthly beauty and grace. An angel stood directly infront of him, or something that had once been an angel, holding a burning trident. Belkar struggled to focus on the being's face, to properly place the emotion he was seeing there. Was it condemnation? - Vengeance? Or did he spy satisfaction? - Pleasure? He didn’t know.

The angel had to be the most beautiful being in Creation. Tall, broad shouldered, slender but toned to incredible definition with delicate facial features, high cheekbones, a clean-shaven face, and large, burning-red eyes. A brilliant nimbus of orange flames surrounds his head, mimicking hair. Two pairs of great, gold feathered wings burst from his back, now folded.

The angel's lips barely moved, but Bekar heard every word. There was no doubt, he recognized the voice from the devil who’d brought him here. Belial stared at him, his eyes passing over the halflings body as if caressing him, his expression apprising, openly desirous. Belkar wished he could cry out, or run, but somehow could do neither, even if the chains hadn’t been there he would have held still and accepted the beings touch.

“I am not going to kill you. I will hurt you. You will suffer agonies until you accept them, until you beg for the pain. I will sever your sinews, weave a cloak from your living nerves and flay your skin, but you won’t die, even if you will it. And eventually, you will accept the pain. Come to relish it. To beg for it. Part of being mortal, no threshold for pain.”

Belkar swallowed, as the devil stepped forward, using a small, wickedly hooked knife to make the first, tiny cut.

* * * * *

There was no end to the pain.

Belkar hung from the silver chains, twisting slowly in an agonising breeze, his arms nearly pulled out of their sockets by his own weight. Even when the devil put down his blood splattered tools for a few moments, the hot wind alone was enough to torture his exposed nerves and muscles.

He felt shrivelled and weak. His wounds no longer bled. For a while he had been able to measure time by the steady drip of blood on stone, but now there was no progression between the minutes and hours.

He began to struggle. Pulling at the chains, flailing his body, trying to get down, to get free. He moaned. It had no effect, and soon he exhausted himself, and worse, drew Belial back, who smiled, his bright knives dancing in his hands.

He couldn’t scream. He should be, but he had no voice left to scream with. For a while he had, cried and begged himself hoarse through his cracked lips and swollen tongue, but the angel had only smiled and worked his knives against Belkar’s ravaged body. Occasionally he would pause and slice himself, wince, grit his teeth and then resume. He lost his consciousness many times, but whenever he opened his eyes Belial was there, his fine knives whickering through Belkar’s ravaged body.

In his delirium he forgot who he was, and hallucinated. It wasn’t enough to let him sleep, but it did make him dream.

Sometimes Belkar burned, and sometimes he froze. He perceived pain in colours, waves of bright burning pain, sickly green, burning red, blight blue. And it only became stronger consuming him.

He forgot who he was, or why it was happening. All that mattered was the perfect, beautiful figure, and his suffering, the fallen angels gift to him.
A crashing and a pounding begun in his head, beyond the pain of the migraine, beyond all pain. Everything dissolved into tiny motes which circled him like a multi coloured dust storm and hen it evaporated in the dark. The pounding ceased. Everything slowed, and the darkness that he entered this time was deep, and final.

A bit risqué, this scene. In a traumatizing way, of course.

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Belkar lay in a bed of writhing bodies. Pale hands bore him up, caressing his body, clutching him in their hungry embrace. Lips pressed against his skin, tasting him, feeling him, worshiping him. The air hung heavy and still, fragrant with sweat and perfume, trembling with moans and sighs, and shrieks of a thousand rapturous voices. There was a slight chill in the air, making his skin prickle with goosebumps, but after what he'd gone through the chill was welcome, blessedly so.

He was whole again. His body was complete. He marveled at it, amazed to be complete once more. He’d all but forgotten what he looked like, who he was. He felt an urge to shout, and he did, an exultant sound.

Faces rose around him, pale, hauntingly beautiful with hungry looks in their dark eyes, though with the memory of the angel fresh in his mind they seemed plain, nonstimulating. Just the same, he felt himself stir.

They reached for him, running their hands across his bare chest, each delicate fingertip leaving a trail of heat across his flesh, warming him, making him shiver delightfully.

One climbed languidly ontop of him, naked as the day she was born, her dark hair seeming to float around her fine boned face, her full lips twisted into a wicked smile. She stretched herself across him like a cat, long fingers reaching for his face. Her smile turned sensual as she laid her long nails against his cheeks and sank them into his skin.

Hot blood pumped down the side of his face as he screamed and thrashed. She dug deeper, taking handfuls of flesh and pulling downwards, like skinning the hide from a hare. Flesh, muscle and tendons pulled away in a glistening mat, exposing his neck and the upper part of his chest.

He writhed and twisted, but the other bodies held him fast. Now the tore at him too, pulling away hunks of bloody skin. He felt the flesh of his entire left arm slough away like a soggy sleeve, and he felt a blast of hot air above him, burning his exposed muscles. Looking up he saw the angel, his golden wings spread, his face rapturous. “I think I’ll leave you with my pets a little longer…” He said, his smile beyond insane, beyond such mortal definitions, as Belkar screamed in pure terror.

On second thought, I should have given him to Grazz't. Ah well, this works to.
- The pairing begins, next installment ()!

Edit: Water-Smurf, thank you for a great installment.

[CoffeeIncluded]

...

*Backs away slowly*

[Meg]

Just backing away slowly? I'd think something in the sprinting neighborhood would be more appropriate.

[CoffeeIncluded]

Ah, but backing away slowly and then breaking into a sprint is funnier!

[Cracklord]

*sniff* you don't like it?

[CoffeeIncluded]

It's...Disturbing.

[Cracklord]

Mmmmm. Kids, stay at school, eat all your vegetables and be in bed by 9:00, or you could wind up just like that Belkar fellow.

[CoffeeIncluded]

Heheh, I don't need to worry. I'm Lawful Good. Emphasis on Good.

[Cracklord]

The tests say I'm a neutral good cleric.
Some of my friends find that very funny.

[La Chatte Noire]

The tests say I'm a neutral good cleric.
Some of my friends find that very funny.

Hmm... Cleric of what though?

[Silverraptor]

I've taken 3 different tests and all three I'm LG, and they all agree that all my stats have a positive modifier above 0. But all three test vary on my class. I'm a fighter, paladin, and wizard repectively from each test.

[Zanaril]

Sorry you're sick. Wish I could send chicken soup over the internet.

But you can send hugs and internet cookies, right? *Sends both to Water-Smurf*

The tests say I'm a neutral good cleric.
Some of my friends find that very funny.

Which tests are these? All the one I take show me as CN or CE...

Part four, and it's just getting good.

Huh. I'm not disturbed. At all...

[Cracklord]

Huh. I'm not disturbed. At all...

Really? Damn. OK, I'll try and turn it up a bit more.

Is it at least a good read?

[Zanaril]

Really? Damn. OK, I'll try and turn it up a bit more.

Is it at least a good read?

Oh yes.

[Dark Faun]

Mmm... Sorry for not replying. I have the flu and I've been in a half-conscious daze all of yesterday and today. I'll reply once my Internet is more stable, I don't randomly fall asleep while I'm doing stuff, and the room stops spinning.

And yet I still write. Obsessive, no?

Ha ha, welcome to the club. At least I hope you're able to eat without losing it within five minutes. Huggies.

I loved this update. Crafty Durkon is surprising, but really, any kind of character development from him is.

[Expeditious]

@ Water-Smurf, I absolutely adore your story and mad writing skillz, and hardly can wait another update. There can never be enough V-centered hurt/comfort.

And you managed to inspire me to doodle something, which is rare these days:

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[Dark Faun]

I initially went "Aw, she kept her wedding ring!" until I remembered she had a Ring of Wizardry pried off of Xykon's charred fingerbone.

[Water-Smurf]

I hate flu. But at least I am able to stay awake for longer than five minutes now.

How would Xykon and/or Redcloak react if/when they find out that little Reddy got V knocked up? What about the Order? I can think of a plethora of amusing/horrifying/incredulous reactions, but I'm not sure which one fits best. Opinions?

Aaah, after the person and the scientist, we have the healer and the dwarf. You love duality doncha?

Yeah, I do. :) It's an easy way of showing the many facets of a character and give life to indecision. It's a little trick I picked up when I was trying to figure out how to deal with Vaarsuvius and Redcloak (because are there any OotS characters with more duality than those two? ).

I'd imagine the grammar slip-ups are intentional.

This. Stephen King is fond of this trick (or at least he used it a lot in It) and I find it to be fun to play with. I don't think I've ever screwed with spelling outside of dialog or inner monologues, though...

You don't know me very well. I'd be fascinated.

*looks up in interest* I have a tendency to go on long lectures, especially about my writing.

(She says as if it's not obvious.)

It's supposed to be squicky, and you write it very well.

I find I do uncomfortable psycho-squick and darkness well. 'Tis my specialty. Thankies.

I think it's probably still within the rules. It's not like you're making fun of serious issues, just exploring them realistically and in moderation.

Yeah, but I'm wondering if it's okay to put stuff like this on the boards. I mean, we're not allowed to swear, so are we allowed to put weird scenes about parents not understanding that the 'time to stop touching the kids so much' phase has come and gone?

And I only just noticed it, but I love the way the three trance memories flow into one another.

I was wondering if someone would notice that.

From what I've gathered, in Greek mythology Morpheus was the god of dreams, Phobetor was his brother, the god of nightmares (along with Phantasos, god of fantasies... you plan on using that somewhere, Water-Smurf? :D). Hence, "In the Arms of (the god of) Dreams" and "Curse of (the god of) Nightmares".

Ikelus is Phobetor's "true" name, how he was known to other gods.

This. I usually only make references to relatively well-known stuff (or at least stuff that's well-known enough to be spouted by my dad, which come to think of it, tends to be really obscure). 'In the Arms of Morpheus' has a bunch of meanings--the literal one Kaytara pointed out, the interpretation that it means to be daydreaming, and the most widely-used sense in that it means to be asleep. It's an idiom. Phantasos, Phobetor, and Ikelus are all much more obscure, but since I'm obsessed with Greek myths, I have no issues with burrowing into them.

One version is this: Phantasos is the god of really surreal dreams (like 'flying on cotton candy stars upside down with rhinos blowing raspberries from the sky and blowing giant feather bubbles' surreal). Phobetor is the god of nightmares, and he's the place where 'phobia' comes from. Ikelus (this guy has way too many versions of him flying around) is the god of dreams so realistic that you actually think it's happening. Morpheus is the big brother of the group, chosen by their father Hypno and all that, and is the god of all dreams collectively. They're known as the Oneiroi. I'm working with this idea. (And no news on Phantasos. No spoilers now. )

And that's my lecture about that.

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Awww... Suvie's so nervous...

Really nice chapter though...Though you'd think that V's parents would, you know, tell her beforehand...

Prepare yourself for another long-winded rant.

That's actually a key thing, that they don't tell her things even though they're willing to show her things. Their way of dealing with V and showing her the world is damaging in the way that it's the wrong approach for V specifically, but they don't realize that. They believe in finding things out in the natural way and through observation (you learn it better than if someone tells you and so on), and because of this, Vaarsuvius has seen things like sex and intimacy, but has no clue what they are. She has no context to put things in, so she goes through gut instinct. That is why she depends so much on hard knowledge in the future. Her parents provided so little that it has become ridiculously valuable. Aarindarius is more like her so he dealt with her in a more effective way, making learning and magic more comforting than the wild nature that her parents tried to raise her in.

And, since little Suvie didn't have any friends and Aarindarius assumed that her parents actually told her stuff like this, anything new about her body comes as a really frightening surprise. Puberty in general is a mystery and she really doesn't have any idea why she is changing ("Parent, why is my chest swelling? Do I have an infection?" "Oh, it's perfectly natural, Suvie! You'll grow up to be like me!" "...That didn't answer my question."), a fact that Aarindarius remedies as soon as he realizes it.

Because of the fact that her own body was a mystery to her for so long, she gets self-conscious about it and tends to detach herself from it, leading up to a sense of no physical identity. (Why else would she be so unconcerned with dramatic gender/appearance changes in herself and others?)

And before I go on, I shall turn the rant off. I hope you enjoyed the lecture, class, and I've written your homework on the board for you to copy down.

@ Water-Smurf, I absolutely adore your story and mad writing skillz, and hardly can wait another update. There can never be enough V-centered hurt/comfort.

And you managed to inspire me to doodle something, which is rare these days:

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I'm flattered, really.

It's a lovely picture. Poor V looks so pathetic and sad! I just want to wrap hir up in a blanket and give her soup. Or something along those lines.

Jesus Christ, my message is getting long! But I guess that that's only to be expected. Thanks to everyone who was nice to me about being sick--the infirmary at my school feels a bit like an asylum/hospital straight out of Silent Hill, so any form of comfort was nice.

And thanks to everyone who gave edits! Those are always appreciated! :D

*scuttles off to edit next chapter before posting*

[The Dark Fiddler]

How would Xykon and/or Redcloak react if/when they find out that little Reddy got V knocked up? What about the Order? I can think of a plethora of amusing/horrifying/incredulous reactions, but I'm not sure which one fits best. Opinions?

Glad you're feeling better. Also glad you're looking for opinions; I love giving ideas that sounds good to me but actually suck.

Sure you already have something for him
Woo, way to go elf dude! ...dude-ett!
*Sigh* You've been putting yourself in danger, Vaarsuvius. + Accent
Hey, what do you know? Redcloak WAS banging the elf. *Meteor Swarm*
Wow! Did you take a level in Bard? That was really dramatic!
What?! Why didn't you tell me, V? I thought you trusted me!
thog not here, silly. don't just go down smiley list
Redcloak is going to be a daddy?
V! You should have told us! If we knew before this...
5 gp says its twins.

[CoffeeIncluded]

That wasn't a very long rant. And it makes sense. Glad you're feeling better.

[Cracklord]

Right, I'm going to have to abandon Belkar's 'adventures' in hell, I'm afraid. Much as I've been enjoying it, the forum won't let me continue the only conceivable result. So, I'll go back to my shipping, methinks.

[CoffeeIncluded]

..........................................It's like...I want to know, but at the same time, I don't want to know.

[Meg]

Reactions, you say? (Sorry for blatantly copying your format, Dark Fiddler. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right?)

Anger and jealousy.
Anger. And some whoopass.

Incredulity, probably.
I'm going to be an uncle! Or somesuch.
I'm going to be an uncle, too! Uncle party!
Slight irratation at Elan, anger at V for not telling her.
Urm... Something Durkon-y? (Sorry, I have difficulty writing Durkon at the best of times, and the best of times, it ain't)

That wasn't very helpful, was it?

Aaaand you're feeling better! Hooray! Internet hugs fixed you, like they fix everything!

[Kaytara]

Expiditious, that picture is completely awesome. :D I love the realistic and unique style.

Water-Smurf, I love your explanation of how V developed her personality. It makes so much sense that I think I'll consider it canon from now on, if you don't mind. Unless I come up with something better. Which isn't likely. :D

And before I go on, I shall turn the rant off.

NOOOOOOOOO!

Please, do go on. Put it in a spoiler if you're worried about taking up space. But go on. :D