Farick's office in SpringDale was teaming with parchments and vast tomes. "Their breading" Feryl thought softly as she walked in through the door. It had been days since she last saw Farick and that was just to make a report. The dark circles under his eyes troubled her and she had always had trouble sleeping when he wasn't with her. The pretty, young scribe girls glanced at her in passing and quickly veered for either their document laden desks or the doors. Farick hadn't noticed her at all. He was engrossed in his work, his head held in hand as he took detailed and diligent notes. She circled the desk, glancing at the exhausted scribe passed out on the cot behind Farick's desk. "Is that where he gets what little sleep he can?" She mused, a hint of jealousy sparking in her heart. Angrily she reached for him, stopping her self short, he still hadn't looked up from his work. One of the scribes made for his desk fumbling with the scrolls in her arms. Feryl glared at her, in her fumbling the poor girls eyes meet Feryl's. She let out a frightened squeak and all the scrolls went tumbling on the floor. She quickly began picking up the scrolls under Feryl's harsh, scrutinizing gaze. Feryl looked back at Farick, her eyes meet his questioning look. Biting her lip Feryl looked away. Farick's chair slid out from under his desk. He gently kissed her forehead as he brushed her hair from her face. He then went and helped the young lady pick up all the scrolls. The girl must not have really known Farick because she kept apologizing for the inconvenience and saying she would grab them all. Farick caught her eyes and gave her a soft smile, taking the rest of the scrolls from her and placing them on the desk. He quickly asked one of the guards by the door to help him bring in the couch from the hall. Propping it up on top of several stacks of tomes behind his desk, he sat back down. Feryl caught Farick's knowing glance as he returned to work, the rest of the couch unclaimed and inviting. She must have looked as tired as he felt. She clambered onto the couch and slid her head into his lap. His hand reached down to squeezed hers, as she started to drift off. She heard him murmur something about a sewing circle's gifts. A blanket covered her, it was a nice blanket, warm, and cosy. She purred, gently nuzzling herself closer to Farick. With his hand still clasped in hers she fell asleep, her soft breathing falling on the now quiet room as the scribes took extra care not to wake her.
She was suddenly back in the Imperial harem, the conquering army had seized the camp and were executing survivors. Tirsan the II's troops where known for their brutal nature. Several of his troops where scavenging for women amidst the chaos, to satisfy their perverse desires. Four of them had stumbled on Feryl, they had grabbed her and where tearing her clothes off as one of their knives pressed against her throat. A scrawny young man no more than nineteen walked up and tapped one of them on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, but would you please let the young lady loose." He spoke calmly and politely, like he asked huge armoured butchers these kinds of things every day.
"Piss off, you impotent Latswin son of a who…" his words cut short by a now enraged fist, driven into his throat. Grasping his throat he collapsed to his knees, his face turning blue. His comrades turned and stared as the young man pounced, driving his knee into the nose of one and kicking the other firmly in the midriff. He landed straddling her, his hand flying for her throat, as the knife began to drag across. She closed her eyes "How merciful" she whispered. She felt a pressure upon her throat as if someone had grabbed her, the pain from the blade disappeared. She heard the sound of bones shattering beside her ear, as she was roughly rolled aside. She could feel her blood running down her shoulders. The only sound the dull pounding of fists on flesh followed by several sharp cracks, and the sounds of bodies collapsing. She felt a hand inspecting the wound on her throat. The hands slid under her lifting her off the ground. What use could her dead body possibly be?
"Nephew, you caring for the dead whores now too? I thought you were only going to hoard the commanders harem tent?" it was a gruff voice. A violent, angry, bloodthirsty voice.
"I'm sorry that you haven't been able to find any. It appears that even Imperial women have standards." That calm voice spoke, Feryl's ribs quivered in silent laughter.
"You forget yourself nephew. I have more troops in this camp and accidents happen all the time, especially to you Latswins." The threat was harsh enough to roll over her in waves, making her quiver.
"Uncle, I find your lack of imagination disappointing. Good day." snorting derisively he continued walking, his uncle shouting unveiled threats at his back.
Feryl whispered softly "Why can I still feel, and breath while I am dead."
He began to shudder with laughter. When he had finally composed himself he said "Open your eyes! You're not dead my lady!"
Feryl's eyes opened cautiously to inspected herself. "But they slit my thro…" he was smiling softly down at her, as they approached the commanders tent, the blood from the gash on his hand running along her thigh. The tent was clean composed and surrounded by troops from the conquering army. Their crests were different from those of the others, a tree growing from an open book with a shield emblazoned with a staff & scythe crossing over a chess pawn with a crown. As they entered the tent all the other harem slaves and women looked up. He put her down on a blanket near a bowl of warm water, he gently cleaned the blood off her body, keeping his slashed hand from spilling more on her. Afterwards he handed her a towel, and began cleaning his hand in the water. One of the other slave girls knelt in front of him and gently began seeing to the wound. As she dried herself, she found herself jealous of the girl. A surgeon approached to see to his hand but he insisted Feryl receive care for the wound on her throat first. The surgeon quietly began stitching the flesh together once more then began work on the man's hand. His hand was stitched and wrapped up, preventing the lose of more blood.
Removing his coat, the young man introduced himself, "Farick Latswin, It's a pleasure to meet you my lady." He took her hand and softly kissed it before placing his coat about her shoulders.
"Fer… Feryl" She stammered her face blushing red.
A young woman in custom made plate approached. "Farick, all non combatants have been accounted for and quarantined. We should return to the main force immediately. Its dangerous surrounded by this many of them. The men have started packing up what they can including this tent." As the troops helped the ladies in the tent out to the wagons, she looked at him "and Farick.." the back of her mailed fist sent him sprawling. "If you ever disappear like that again I'll run you through myself."
"Yes… My lady." He replied, the sarcasm practically dripping from his smiling lips. Quickly he jumped up, as she stalked off to the wagons. Grabbing Feryl and the other girl who had remained he hopped into the back of a wagon. He introduced her to the other women in the wagon while the troops packed the tent. Their arduous journey finally under way, the uncomfortable silence stretched. All but five minutes before Farick grew bored with the silence and began talking to them. At first they said nothing, then slowly they began to nod, smile, and finally laugh. They talked well into the night. It took several days to return to the main force and Farick would check in with the others from the harems. Feryl and the three other girls would follow him around as he made his rounds. After three nights she fell asleep leaning against him as he sat propped up against the side of the wagon.
That night while he slept Feryl awoke. Kneeling over him, biting her lip as she gazed into his face. Gently she pressed her lips against his, closing her eyes, she imagined his arms wrapping around her. She could feel his hand brush her hair aside, his fingers running down her back. She Imagined him pulling her closer, his lips sliding down to caress her neck, then moving up gently to tug at her ears with his teeth. "Isn't it usually the man who takes the initiative my dear?" Came his soft whisper. Startled, Feryl's eyes flew open as Farick pressed his forehead against hers. Their eyes meet over his soft longing smile as she bit her lip in apprehension.
A shadow stood over them, blade drawn. The blade dove for them seeking Farick's heart. Feryl jumped up as a book fell noisily to the floor sending an echoing crash through the room. Her blade drawn, pressed to the throat of an innocent scribe, her body protecting Farick's. His hand touched hers, pulling the blade from the girls throat, his other arm pulling her into his embrace. As he pressed his forehead against hers, he took her other hand in his, placing it against his heart. She could feel it's drumming grow calm, its gentle rhythm bringing peace and calm to her startled heart. His worried eyes peered into hers as she shook softly, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. As he kissed her the dagger tumbled from her hands clattering to the ground beside the book which lay at the young scribes feet. The scribe ran a slender finger across her throat, checking for blood before she knelt to picked up both book and dagger placing one upon the other on the corner of Farick's desk.
"Hrmm..mmm, My Lord. We will continue with the work we have. Perhaps it is best if you and your Lady retire for the evening. You can review our work in the morning sir." The lead scribe did not appear to be making a suggestion.
Farick smiled at Feryl as she made her way to the door swaying her hips seductively, their concerns and fears forgotten for the moment. "Are you coming to catch me darling?" She taunted from the door, twirling her hair around her finger as she gently bit her lip. Farick vaulted the desk and gave chase, bumping into several servants in the hall. He finally caught her at the door to the apartments. She let him catch her and he new it, his heart was beating fast as he pressed her against the door. His lips sought hers and just as they touched she opened the door, sending them tumbling into the room. Farick kicked the door closed as he pulled her over him, his arms drawing her into a kiss.
It had been a long day and Katia for one, was exhausted. Farick had been busy when she looked in on him. One of the young scribe girls was attempting to flirt with him while he worked. Surrendering to his determined focus on his work, the young scribe backed away from his desk. Turning, her eyes meet Katia's. She froze just for a moment, making Katia's neck hair stand on end, before continuing her work. Katia remained for several minutes watching Farick as he worked, his fingers entwined in Feryl's as she slept. He continued writing, the fingerless glove hiding the scar on his hand while keeping it in a functional state. It's a rather elegant solution. Discreet, Effective and even Handsome. She smiled at the pair, a soft smile crossing her lips. I wish I had gotten here first. The jealous thought intruded unasked and she forced it out of her mind. Many considered Farick to be a gentle man, even soft. Feryl on the other hand was thought to be hard and unyielding. She wasn't, and Katia knew all too well that Farick was a hard man, pained by his wounds and tormented by his own heart and soul. He hid the pain well as he scrawled away. She had never known how the wound on his hand had been incurred or why, just that it was something Feryl concerned herself with constantly. Whenever anyone questioned him, all he would say was; it was a price he paid for something precious, albeit in a more poetic fashion. He was a hopeless romantic after all and he did his best to live an honourable life. Sighing softly Katia began turning, intent on heading for the apartments. Farick could continue working for now, besides he always looked so peaceful when one of them was near. It was almost as though his troubles fled in fear of their presence. His façade of focused determination masking the smile that touched the corners of his mouth. Smiling Katia realized He knows I'm here, that little… a hint of anger reached her posture as she approached his desk. He pretended as though her hand on his shoulder was a surprise. His pleasant smile meet her, melting away the anger as his gloved hand brought hers to his soft lips.
”Farick of Latswin, my lady” he said, his breath pleasantly touching the back of her hand as his lips receded. It was surely meant to insult the commander, first they send a commoner to discuss the military position and then their messenger greets the concubine slave girl first. Katia returned his pleasant smile.
The commander spun her round roughly “Your my whore, Katia.” The back of his mailed fist streaking toward her face. Turning her head, she closed her eyes waiting for a strike that did not follow.
”Raise your hand to her again and I will not give you the option of surrender.” A calm voice filled with rage formed each word with emphasis. Opening her eyes Katia stared as the commander knelt at the commoners feet gasping for breath as he clutch his throat. Blades cleared scabbards as his guards stepped forward.
”Kill him, and the whore.” his words a harsh rasp. The guards lunged toward them, spinning Farick dodged the blade intent on him. Grasping his attackers arm he drove the blade into the other as the blade swung at Katia, struck. She crumpled in pain as the blade bit into her ribs. Even with the powders the commander forced her to take, she had to bite down to stop the scream. Blood spurted from her attackers mouth the blade still protruding from his chest as he fell to the ground. A sharp crack brought her eyes away from the dying man, his comrade's neck twisted to face behind. The wide eyed commander's scream was cut short as Farick pounced, his hands wrapping around the horrified man's throat. After a while the commanders feet stopped flailing, as the choking sound ceased so did the twitching.
Farick rose, wiping away some of the blood that had splattered on his face. He drew a dagger from the commander's sheath, quickly placing it amidst the glowing coals of a brazier. He knelt beside her and began wrapping a towel tightly around a small stick. Smiling he leaned forward, his lips parted hers, the kiss gentle and firm perishing the pain from her mind. As he pulled away his calm soft voice whispered “I'm sorry, my lady Katia.”
”Why sho…Mmnnnm!!” Her question was muffled by the towel entwined stick he forced into her mouth his hand holding it in place. Katia struggled, his free hand grabbed hers as he straddled her placing a knee on each wrist pinning her arms at her waist. He grabbed a bottle of the commanders scotch and uncorked it with his teeth poring it over the fresh wound. The alcohol burned as it ran through the wound. Katia's back arched from the pain as she let out muffled screams. She slumped to the ground as he wrapped another towel around her mouth to hold the bit in place. The world was getting blurry, she must have lost a lot of blood. Farick grabbed the dagger from the brazier. Ignoring the pain in his hand as the hilt seared his flesh through the glove he wore, his freehand pressing the two sides of her wound together as the dagger drew across the wound melting the flesh together bit by bit. The pain was excruciating and somewhere between screaming in pain and losing consciousness she heard the bit in her mouth snap.
Her face must have paled as she starred at Farick, the memory vivid, the pain all but reality. Katia tried to turn away but his hand stopped her, touching her cheek before gently pulling her lips to his. Releasing her from his grasp, sadness and worry lined his face. “I'm sor….” his apology silenced as she pressed her finger to his lips before kissing him once more. Feryl moaned as she nuzzled closer to Farick, bringing smiles and muffled laughter to him and Katia.
“I will come visit you another time, I can see you are busy.” Smiling at his slightly raised eyebrow, she walked away inciting him with every step. She laughed at the deep breath her teasing had garnered and made her way to the Dwarven bath in the main apartments. The steam filled room was well lit by the stained glass sun roof. The walls and sculptures where carved of white marble, and the smell of jasmine filled the air. Katia dis-robed quietly as the steam hissed from the gaping maws of the stone dragons scattered along the walls. Walking down a small set of ridged steps into the water filled bath in the centre of the room, sighing she immersed herself. Placing a folded towel behind her neck, she lay back. As she stretched her legs up out of the water, small rivulets ran down them. Her toes pointing skyward as a soft moan of joy escaped her lips. Closing her eyes, she returned her legs to the water where they were surrounded by a blanket of warmth. She relaxed letting the heat flood her tired flesh, melting away the tension. The dragons hissed again and her breathing slowed, calmed by the jasmine scented steam.
Sylean's hands where covered in charcoal. She had been sketching designs for sculptures all day as she sat in the garden. There were several designs she wanted to show Farick that made her particularly proud. She knew he would make time to admire them he always did. He had a fascination and love for beautiful things, he once admitted while admiring her or her work. She had always hoped it was her he was admiring, but Farick kept his heart locked away. Even Feryl admitted to feeling distant at times. Sometimes he would watch one of them, unaware that he was being observed by another. He would wear a face set in calm but his eyes showing his fears, his hands trembling as he held them in his embrace. When she meet him he was more forward than he was now. She remembered the way he looked at her when they first meet. She hid her smile behind her hand as the memory played through her head.
The commander's harem was filled with beautiful women, many forced into addictions to gain their complacence. A 'lessened' warrior stood guard, his blade drawn ready to slay all of them should the enemy attain victory. A young man appeared behind the guard, his swift kick sending him to his knees. The man's arms moved as swiftly as coiling serpents, one ensnared the arm that held the drawn blade. The other wrapping about the guards neck making him arch backward. Suddenly the man's muscles tensed and he straightened, the guards neck snapping from the strain, his eye's wide as the soul within fled. The body fell limp and lifeless upon the ground as the man turned. His eye's meet hers, he smiled as they slid down her body appreciatively. He approached her rapidly, she assumed he would claim her as the spoils of war. As her new master reached her he suddenly dropped to a knee, gently taking her hand in his. Bringing her hand to his mouth, his soft lips caressing her skin as they touched.
“Farick of Latswin, My Lady.” He exhaled as though the breath where stolen from his lungs.
Standing there shocked or awed by his reaction to her, stammering “I'm no lady sir, just a slave”
“If you are no lady then why have I knelt before thee.” Farick smiled, gazing into her eye's “I beg you bless me with your name my lady.”
"Sylean, now please stand up I'm not anything special.” She replied modestly.
Laughing Farick rose, leaning forward, placing his lips beside her ear. “I disagree, My Lady Sylean. You are very special.” He whispered, his soft kiss brushing her reddening cheek as a young knight entered the tent.
“Farick, one of the girls from the other tents is missing. We had to extricate three from the possession of Tirsan's men.” His face was caked in dried blood. Farick spun, quickly sprinting from the tent.
She turned a corner in time to catch a glimpse of Farick chasing Feryl into the apartments, a joyous smile on his face. As she reached the open door it slammed shut, the sounds of passion sliding under the door like secret letters. Sylean dropped to her knees, her sketches falling noiselessly to the floor beside the tears that fell from her cheeks. Recalling a familiar pain as she resting against the door frame, the tears softly fell and in the broken stillness she wept. The hours passed as days.
Mere minutes passed, yet they dawdled like hours. Finally he returned, the girl in his arms clad in no more than shreds of cloth. She was beautiful by any standards and he seemed as enamoured with her beauty as he had been with Sylean's. She glared at the girl, as Farick gently washed his blood from her soft flesh. Jealousy filled her heart at every smile, every glance, every touch of hand to flesh. A surgeon bustled in to tend to his wound, yet he refused to receive care before the girl. As the girls wounds were being seen to by the surgeon, Farick dipped his hand in the wash bowl as if to clean it. Concerned Sylean began moving toward him. Another knelt beside him quietly taking his hand, washing it gently. Yet more jealousy flooded her heart as before with every touch. The surgeon began his diligent work on Farick's hand. Finally his wound seen to Farick rose once more, just as a young woman in plate entered the tent.
"Farick, all non combatants have been accounted for and quarantined. We should return to the main force immediately. Its dangerous surrounded by this many of them. The men have started packing up what they can including this tent." As the troops helped the ladies in the tent out to the wagons, she looked at him "and Farick.." her words gentle, as the back of her mailed fist sent him sprawling. "If you ever disappear like that again I'll run you through myself."
"Yes… My lady." He replied in sarcastic tones. He rose quickly, as she stormed off. Helping the other girls who had remained to their feet. He looked at them tossing his head as though inviting her and the others to follow. He lead them to a wagon train clambering into the back of an apparently empty wagon. Minutes later then they were under way, the uncomfortable silence stretching for what seemed like hours. Farick started talking to them, at first the other girls said nothing, then slowly they began to nod, smile, and finally laugh. Sylean remained silent however, afraid that she might not be able to hold his attentions. It took several days to return to the main force and Farick insisted on check with the other women in the wagons the three other girls would follow him, she merely drifted nearby. One of those long nights as she lay awake watching him, the one called Feryl clutching his chest in her slumber. She crawled forward, gently pressing her lips to his. Feryl began to stir quickly she fell back feigning sleep. Feryl knelt over him, biting her lip as she starred. Pressed her lips against his, she closed her eyes as did Sylean. Squeezing her eyes shut as the tears ran down her cheeks, she heard him softly whisper "Isn't it usually the man who takes the initiative my dear?"
Soft lips pressed against her cheeks, kissing the tears that rolled down them. She dared not open her eye's for she might dispel the illusion. The lips were familiar, pressing to hers as arms embraced her, pulling her to her feet. A body pressed her against the frame of the now open door, it's hands sliding up her waist and down her back. Teeth gently tugged at her lip, she moaned in soft surprise. Opening her eye's again, she gazed into Farick's worried face. He was wearing his sad smile once more as he placed her drawings on the table by the door. Suddenly he picked her up, heading for the bedroom. Spinning slightly he fell into the love seat at the foot of the bed, joyous again, just for a moment. The act was meant to cheer, however he gained no victory over her sadness
“Why were you weeping? What's the mater?” His gloved hand lifting her chin to meet his concerned eyes.
Sylean lifted her arms around his neck. Pulling herself closer, “Nothing. Now that I'm with you.” Her whisper soft and breathless as she kissed him. He smiled, a joy and fire in his eyes she hadn't seen in a long time. As he kissed Sylean, Feryl's soft murmurs from the bed where lost to the sound of their hearts beating. A shadow covered them, blade drawn. Looking up she screamed as the shimmering blade dove towards Farick's heart. Blood flew in her eyes as Farick threw her away from the falling blade.
Flames of the forge hissed and spat as Talya's sweet fell amidst the glowing coals. She had claimed the final piece from the seamstress and the tanner earlier that day. The tempered rings had fit perfectly. The extra glove she stole from Farick lay on the table beside the completed gifts. She had but one more task, to deliver the gift. She was confident in her craftsmanship, and the others had unwittingly aided her. Sylean's designs had been etched into the steal perfectly, Katia's sketches had been considered at length for the design, and even Feryl had adjusted the design to improve its functionality. All the aspects had been considered at length, Farick would be overjoyed. Placing one of the rings upon her finger, she tucked the newly made gloves into her belt. The remaining rings in hand, she returned to the keep. She was soaked with sweet and dusted in soot. Deciding to take some time to make herself presentable, she made for the apartments and the baths. I can where that beautiful dress he bought me, that will get him away from his desk. She laughed at the thought as she entered the apartments spinning like a giddy maiden. Grabbing the dress she ducked into the bath.
Katia's breast rose and fell softly, sending ripples through the water. Smiling Talya began to disrobe quietly. She slid silently into the far side of the bath, biting in her laughter as she noticed Katia's wrinkled fingertips. Gently pressing sponge to flesh, Talya drew the soot from her skin revealing the burns upon her hands and arms. They were the the price of her tempest craft, a blood sacrifice to a god of flame who gave the gift of mastered steal. The water was now grey and murky, sullied by the dirt and ash that had clung to her flesh. She lifted herself out of the water the long scar upon her back unmasked by the cleansing water. She could feel the water run over it, gently teasing the flesh as it made its way along the old wound. A mischievous smile crossed her lips as Katia groaned pleasantly. Slowly Talya slid one of the extra rings on Katia's slender wrinkled finger, an apology for what followed. Taking the small bowl of lavender petals from the bench near the door, she emptied it on the water around Katia. Then she tugged at the rope with which she could remove the cork, draining the bath. She slipped into the long dress as she watched the water fall, the lavender petals clinging to Katia's moist skin. Grabbing the gloves and the two remaining rings, Talya fled the scene, bursting out in muffled laughter as she entered the hallway that connected to the apartments. Smiling she spun, inspecting herself in the mirror that ran along the wall. The deep crimson was offset with opal, just as her curves where offset by her strong shoulders. Her scar flashed in her vision, the red dress looked bloody for just a moment as she recalled.
A young man came sprinting out of the commander's tent, smiling at her as he ran past. The guards lead her into the tent, she tried to ask after the man but they did not know her tongue. Kneeling she awaited the young man's return, every twitch of the tent flap caught her eye. Finally he return, the girl he carried stripped all but bare. He took great care as he wiped his blood of her skin, keeping his savaged hand away from her cleansed flesh. Smiling as though he felt no pain from the gash in his hand, he submerged it in the reddening water. She quickly knelt in front of him, concern lining her face as she gently took his hand in hers washing it with delicate touches of sponge to tattered flesh. His hand shook from the pain, she looked up into his sparkling eyes, a soft smile thanking her. Blushing as she smiled, his intent welcomed by her eyes. Minutes passed fleetingly like a humming bird's wings, the surgeon touched her hand softly. His eyes twinkling at her display of affection toward the wounded young man and smirking the surgeon went about his work. His wound seen to, the young man rose to greet the young woman in plate who approached him.
The woman spoke, her tone emotionless as she gave her report. The troops began herding the women out of the tent, Talya pressed closer to the young man. Avoiding the soldier she and two other young girls who had been staring at him stood at his side. The woman stepped closer, her words were gentle as a lover's would be. The back of her mailed fist lashed out sending him to the ground. The words were spoken as if to scold a child but her eyes were filled with fear for him.
His reply seemed sarcastic but she could not be sure. He rose quickly, as she left, guiding them out to an unclaimed wagon. Uncomfortable silence stretched for what must have been hours. He began to talk, at first no one replied, then slowly they began to nod, smile, and finally laugh. Talya remained confused by their language choosing to laugh when the moment seemed right, agreeing with each of the assembled in turn. The young man insisted on checking the other women in the wagons, they would follow him while one of them seemed to simply drift nearby. She awoke one night to see on of the other girls kissing the young warrior. A shadow stood, looming over them, its blade plunging for him. She threw herself between him and the diving blade, pain shot through her back as the blade bit, drink deeply from her ruby blood. The world spun as she stared into his horrified bloody face, darkness engulfing all that she loved as her vision faded.
Talya froze, closing her eye's she stood taking deep breaths. Looking in the mirror her face pale, she whispered softly. “It's fine Talya. Everything is okay. He's alive, your alive and most importantly your together.” Comforted somewhat by her words her reflection grew less pale and wide eyed. Composing herself once more gloves and rings in hand she entered the main bedroom to get her perfumes. Farick perched languidly upon the love seat at the foot of the bed, Sylean's bare flesh pressed against his as they slept. Feryl stirred upon the bed as Talya approached. Even half asleep Feryl's eyes were alert and aware, a soft pleasant and tired smile touched her lips. She watched wordlessly as Talya slid one of the rings onto a finger of Sylean's dangling hand. Feryl examined the ring Talya handed to her. The design was clearly Sylean's, but the craftsmanship was defiantly Talya's. The Latswin crest set in silver etchings on a golden band, it was gorgeous.
“Why?” Feryl asked still half asleep and slightly stunned by the gift.
“To thank you.” Talya replied her genial smile beaming down at Feryl.
“Oh, your welcome” Feryl mumbled as she crawled to the foot of the bed and lay down, draping her head over Farick's shoulder. Comfortable once more, she drifted off. Talya smiled at the pile of bodies, any hint of jealousy crushed by that amusing sight. She had learned patience with her craft, sitting beside the couch she learned against it. The gloves lay in her lap, she waited not caring about the time, falling asleep to the sound of Farick's peaceful breaths.
Farick's head fell back to glare at the sky as clouds brewed and rain fell masking his tears. Lynae tried to speak as he held her in his arms, the blood burbled from her lips as the vine that entangled her dug into her flesh. Lightning struck the ground in front of them, a woman stood before them smiling softly. Two more lightning strike spawn another two women.
“We sisters three, were called to thee. Your desires we can plainly see. We'll offer you these gambles three.” Her words echoed by her sisters.
Smiling her sister approached, her scarlet dress revealing every inch of her as it seemed to dance in the wind. “I am Pleasure, Lust and Rage, I alone can set the stage.” Her sisters did not echo her as she spoke her introduction. She knelt before him, placing both hands on his chest, as his shirt opened of its own accord. Her hands ran up to grabbed his neck forcing him into a kiss. Pleasure sent ecstasy coursing through his body, suddenly Lynae slumped in his arms bringing him back to reality. He tore away, a silvery mist drifted from between his lips. His body burned with desire as Pleasure spoke, her words echoed by her two sisters. “Her life we'll save, Her flesh restore. Yet she'll remember thee no more. Unless her heart you win once more.” She lifted Lynae's lips to hers, vine and clothes burned to ash by her kiss. The kiss stretched as she tore the blade from Lynae's chest, the flesh mending without pause. Lynae drew in a deep breath yet remained unconscious. Lust drew her finger over Lynae's now bare flesh, smiling as her touch gained pleasant moans. She waved a hand dismissively and Lynae disappeared. Rage rose to her feet, her every feature teasing him as she licked Lynae's blood from her lips. Smiling lustily at Farick she returned to her place with her sisters.
”Where is she?” Farick demanded his face contorted with fear.
”Do not pine, for she is fine. The odds weighted in favour thine, now are balanced in hand of mine.” The choir of voices replied.
”You intend, I need find her to win her heart?” Farick asked. His answer, a knowing smile upon blood stained lips.
The other sister approached her sapphire dress swirling like waves about her legs. “I am Passion, Love and Hate. I will this desire sate.” Her words drifted from her lips alone as had her sisters initial intonation of introduction. Passion knelt, her hand gently touching his cheek as she kissed him, sending his heart soaring, Talya's pained groan brought his lips away from hers., another wisp of mist drifted from them. “The risk of loss, life's greatest cross, for loves of thine will be as moss. Thy shoulders their risks shall lay across.” Love's soft words were chorused by her sisters as she embrace him, her lips running along his skin. Suddenly her fingers traced fresh wounds on his flesh. Talya and Katia wounds closed, opening on his ribs and back. Hate rose to her feet as he fell forward onto his palms, blood dripping from his chest. Grasping his hair she tilted his head to look into her eyes as she licked his blood off her fingers. Releasing him, she returned to her place amongst her sisters.
”What is the meaning of this?” Farick spat, biting back the screams of pain.
”Do not weep, thy lovers keep. No more from them their lives will seep. You bear the years and wounds they reap.” The choir of voices replied.
”You mean to say I cannot shed a single tear for fear of their loss?” He inquired, his face a mask of calm as he tried to push the pain from his mind. She gave him a smirk and a sideways glance as she bit her finger, swaying innocently from side to side.
The first of the sisters walked seductively forward her long black dress glimmering, the stars woven into the fabric twinkling. “I am Pareunia, Life and Death. I shall take the final breath.” her words breathless as she kicked him onto his back. Pareunia straddled him pressing her lips to his neck, sliding them up to his mouth. The soft kiss, dwarfed those prior, filling him with pleasure and passion and all the things that Feryl and the others made his body feel when he touched them. Thinking of them he tore away once more the final wisp passing from his lips. “Wanting mage, I'll you assuage. I your memory shall fairly gauge. In simple trade I'll make you sage.” Life's words where spoken upon heavy breaths, as though laboured by passions unfulfilled.
”What?” Farick's confusion, plainly displayed on his face, his voice as breathless as hers.
”Do you not see, Your memory. I'll surely take such things from thee. Once restored to thee completely, my knowledge will I bequeath thee.” Death's chilling whispered echoed, punctuated by the thundering storm that raged above. Rising she returned to the head of her assemblage. “For love to slave, in order loss to stave.” She paused as though exasperated, her sister continued. “If higher stakes you wish to brave?” It seemed a question as though she was expecting an answer. Lightning flashed and his eyes closed, as the last sister finished. “It is your soul we deeply crave.”
Farick awoke from his slumber, Sylean lay sleeping in his arms. Feryl had draped her head over his shoulder as she used his arm for a pillow. She shifted in her sleep and he entwined his fingers in hers. That strange dream again. Every year, I wonder what it means. More importantly who is that beautiful young girl. Fumbling with his thoughts he gave in to the calm silence. He could feel Sylean's breast rise and fall as she pressed against him, her breath rolling across his sweet soaked skin. Farick leaned his head back against the bed post, Feryl drew in a deep breath, his stirring causing her to shift, the air tickled his neck as she let it out. He listened straining to discern their heart beats, drowning in the sound of their slumber. Someone murmurer beside him, as he gazed about the room he noticed long beautiful legs protruding from a scarlet dress. Craning his neck, he look down at the girl sitting beside the couch slumbering. Cautiously sliding out from under Feryl, Farick gently picked up Sylean and placed her gingerly in the bed. He kissed her gently as she mumbled, the warm blanket covering her exposed skin. Then kneeling beside the crimson clad beauty, Farick brushed Talya's hair from her face. Half waking from his touch Talya wrapped her arms about his neck. His arms slid effortlessly beneath her, lifting her into the air. She pulled herself towards him as his fingers traced the familiar scar that ran across her back. It matched one of his scars, but then, that seemed fitting.
The gloves fell to the carpet that lay upon the floor with a dulled thud. Suddenly awake she leapt out of Farick's arms, quickly grabbing the gloves of the floor. She froze as she turned looking at the bed, Feryl had stirred. Calming at Farick's touch, she mumbled returning to her slumber. Neither Farick or Talya spoke as she slipped back into the world of dreams. Tentatively removing himself from Feryl's side, he approached Talya. Smiling like a giddy school girl she handed him the gloves, placing her hands together behind her back as she swayed. Farick examined them, his smile growing evermore pleased. He handed them back to her, sliding his glove off. Talya flinched, he quickly donned the new glove. He took in a sharp pained breath as he hurt himself in his haste.
“Are you alri…” Talya began to inquire, but his soft smile silenced her.
“They're gorgeous, my lady.” He exclaimed softly, his gloved hand grasping her waist, pulling her toward him. “Thank you.” His words a soft whisper as he kissed her, the sound of her silken dress falling to the floor drifting through the room.