Layla's kitchen was an orderly place. Meeda cooked alongside her, but there was no argument about just whose kitchen it was. Every inch of the place that could support it and not get in the way had racks for hanging utensils, pots, pans, or shelves for trays, plates, cups and bowls. A few neighborhood boys and girls worked as scullions, doing dishes, cleaning the great big iron stove, or brushing out the massive brick oven when it wasn't being used.
Right now the morning bread was being made and the girls were sweeping and mopping the red clay tile floors. The kitchen was a large and very warm room. It had several windows, and even boasted an iron hood over the stove that sent hot air through stone lined pipes to help heat the Inn's rooms in the winter. Right now the red handled lever to those vents was set to closed, and the main exhaust was wide open.
Layla worked using a great thin and flat two handed knife. It was a cutting tool as much as it was a spatula. She had her hair back in a braid over her shoulder, and a bandana over it to keep it tidy and out of the way. Eggs, meat, potatoes, and other veggies were all searing away before her on the massive flat stovetop. When some were done they were chopped into meal sized sections, and served onto plates that were taken away by the serving girls like Marie.
Meeda was pulling fresh baked bread from the ovens, several boys with trays ready at the counter top nearby ready to take them and let them rest before being served. Tila came in shouting orders she had taken, and stopped with Marie to check her work on the written notes she had taken. Once approved Marie tacked the orders onto the waiting list as she and the other serving girls took up a tray and brought them out to the hungry patrons.
“You two!” Layla barked, her voice not entirely unkind, but demanding.
Marvin and Ivan didn't miss a beat coming to the stove side. Layla nodded at a nearby stack of plates as they came on and each waited their turn to have their plate filled. Once done they both grabbed their own steelware and headed out into the common room. Tila followed after them quickly with a tray of bread and a little bowl of butter.
The little girl put it up on the table, smiled at them, and shot a wide eyed gaze about the packed common room and then darted back to the kitchen without a word.
Ivan sat next to Myrn who was well into her breakfast meal and looking about with a somewhat pained look at all the customers. She took a long drink of water from her flagon and sighed. She kissed Ivan on the cheek as she went by, but took her plate and flagon with her as she headed toward the kitchen.
Ivan and Marvin watched her go, talk almost made pointless by the roar of that morning's custom. Ivan took the time to look about. There were plenty of adventuring types here. Some looked nervous, others comfortable, but all seemed eager enough. Ivan caught a few gazes that had tracked Myrn from her rise back to their little table, but he didn't think much about it. Not until a few of those gazes upon him lasted a little too long.
Panic, like cold water leaking into the cabin of an otherwise warm and dry boat, made cold shivers run up his spine. Ivan turned to his meal and was careful to not show a reaction to any of the gazes that lingered upon him though paranoid thoughts tore through his mind, ever distracting from more productive thoughts. He chose to finish his meal quickly and be on his way.
Myrn quickly showed herself among the serving staff, carrying out orders, and assisting her aunt and uncle during the busy morning. Meeda himself was almost entirely absorbed by the task of collecting pay brought to him by customers on their way out or to him by serving girls when they had a spare hand not filled with dishes. That suited Ivan fine.
As Penelope had mentioned before he had given too little time to his occult studies. Though that wasn't entirely true. Whenever he had mana spare, which was generally any time he was resting, he could and did often invest in learning what he could from Basic Information. Hopefully upon gaining another level in Scholar he would gain Standard Information, and on to Adept and Advanced, allowing him quite literal higher class information. So much of what he could learn now was just summary information where his mind longed for deeper and deeper understanding.
Upon that desire drew others, great and hungry curiosities, and a constantly growing bed of questions he needed to ask Penelope. For a moment as he ate, a sudden lust ran over him, his thoughts turning to her form within the Shroud, where she remained ever patient of his day to day tasks. The well spiced and perfectly cooked meal before him suddenly seemed a dull comparison to the sweet scent and taste of the lovely demon. He suddenly felt as though he did not do enough to appreciate her teachings, and boundless patience.
Like the Goddess he had once served he was suddenly overcome with the desire to kneel at her feet and swear himself to her personal service. He would prove his dedication upon her over endless hours of admiration, with lips, tongue, and body. He would…
Ivan fought through the haze of his own thoughts as Penelope's softly mocking laughter rolled through the strange senses given to him by the Shroud.
“You seduce yourself now for me dear Master. Be calm.” Penelope chided. “The time will come, but not now. You must first always be yourself. That will be how you best serve me when the time comes. I wish not for a pawn. You know this, you've felt it, you've seen in it the terms of our bargain.”
For a moment he had to wonder if what she said was true, but it had to be. She had passed by too many easy chances to simply claim his mind for her own. In his recent studies he had learned much of her kind through Basic Information, its access to the Infinite Library, and Demonology 1. Penelope was not a mundane or idle Demoness.
She was old, nearly as old as any of the living Gods upon Drudesha. What knowledge he could access had no stories to tell of her origin, but of the God Pan, from another world and another time, being key in her remaining whole after her original death. She had said as much to Ivan, even including the supposed fact that Pan was her father. Certainly Pan's description given by Basic Information was close enough to justify a relation of species perhaps as Pan, like Penelope, appeared to be a kind of creature called a Satyr.
Ivan finished his meal, catching a worried glance from Marvin that seemed to take in the eyes still finding their way to Ivan about the common room.
“I'm going out.” Ivan called to Marvin, having to raise his voice to be heard.
Marvin nodded.
“Be careful.” He replied, before settling back to his meal.
Ivan headed for the first floor hall. The rooms here were the cheapest, small, but warm and tidy. None had more than a single bed, and the few dozen of them were meant to be able to host Adventurers as they came and went from the Dungeon. Many were locked shut, and others hung with signs declaring 'Vacant, Please See to the Serving Staff to Arrange Your Stay'.
Ivan passed through the hall, summoning the Shroud about him, its effects only vaguely magical in the presence of so many adventurers. The brief shadows in the halls between lanterns were comfortable to him, soothing like a cool breeze in the heat of the day. He kept on at a fast pace.
“It was hard to tell, but I sensed the intent to follow you coming from the common room.” Penelope whispered to Ivan within the Shroud.
Ivan nodded. He could feel it, mostly just the hairs standing on the back of his neck, but hearing Penelope support what he could otherwise only justify as a paranoid feeling helped. He tried to encourage her treatment of him with a project emotional response, but it was quickly flooded over by lust and as much admiration as there was appreciation.
The 'praise' made her wings twitch and her eyes practically sparkled in their purple iris’s of her mostly human form. Ivan had the sudden urge to kiss the nape of her neck and take in her scent from her hair and the goat-like ears under her horns. He had to shake of that notion for several moments.
“We can kill them together...if you like...Ivan...” Penelope purred.
Ivan paused after taking the first turn toward the back of the building. He would have broken line of sight with his attackers now, and if they were careless they might hurry and follow after him. Vague memories of taking the innocent couple and offering their still beating hearts to Penelope rose in his mind, turning his stomach, but also filling him with the need, the horrible hunger, and desire to please Penelope with another offer.
Ivan stopped in the first shadow beyond the corner, his mind focused on just two things. First, the sounds coming down the hall. He had a lot to sort through against the lingering sound of the common room and the rain's gentle patter on the roof. Second, he focused on Penelope's stretching form as she readied herself to come out and aid him.
Thoughts intruded on his focus, zealous thoughts of what it might be like to swear to her, and always have her magic close to hand. Ivan shuddered. His mind blurred, his focus completely smeared to near senselessness as a premonition of serving before a dark and fertile mother both assaulted and caressed his mind. Mana of his own spirit and mind was spent as her scent rose from the Shroud filling Ivan's nose and the air of the narrow hall. It overwhelmed the scent of the storm winds, and the cool rain against the recently mopped and dusted timbers of the hallway.
A dark sensation, hot as blood, as intimate and more than sex entered his mind with the vision of a beloved lady buried in shadow. He began to pant aloud, and hearing nothing he could sort out from down the hall began to move once again, but the vision in his mind did not end. He didn't know if it was something of his own imagination or something Penelope was pushing upon him, but it did not end as he made his way to the narrow back door.
He stopped there, panting against the door to realize that Penelope herself was panting within the Shroud. She stood still, but with her back pressed against the shadowy wall of the garden. It was only as tall as her shoulders and only a black void remained beyond its barrier. The symbol of the Bindings shared between them pulsed between her breasts as she heaved in desperate breaths.
“No, Ivan.” Penelope said, her voice somehow all the more sharp and sudden for all of its gentle tone. “No.”
Ivan gasped, the surging feeling and vision fading. Sweat was streaming down his face, and his mana felt low. He stood there panting for a while before casting a gaze over his shoulder.
No one had come.
Ivan started then as Azalea rose from within the Shroud, given a hand to do so by Penelope. The sense of transition was strange, with Azalea having to do no less than take Penelope's hand and step as if climbing unseen stairs before her.
The Pathfinder stood, form ghostly and much less solid seeming than she was within the Shroud, but she turned and smiled at Ivan, her brutally spiked iron pole lantern in hand. Blue-gray ghostly light spread from its all too suddenly roaring flame, but the weapon, and even the flame too was barely tangible.
“I will cleanse the hall Master. I will take but a moment.” Azalea said, her sudden appearance from the Shroud and its all encompassing senses only serving to drive home her likeness to Tanya.
Though Tanya would never slump her shoulders the way Azalea did there was something to her smile, and the shape of her mouth. Ivan couldn't deny her likeness to his lost lover then, but she was still something made from her essence, and that he could never betray. Always Azalea would be like a daughter to him.
Ivan glanced through the rough glass of the back door window and back down the hall, but no one was coming.
Azalea never paused for his check, simply striding forward before standing to her full height, and raising her pole lantern in both hands. She seemed to focus for a moment, but then struck the floor boards with sudden force. The blow seemed to ripple the material beyond the strictly visible means of reality, and ghostly flames shot down the hall to momentarily consume it in blue-gray fire.
Ivan started, but the flames subsided as quickly as they had come, the longest lasting of them the trail of footprints that lead to his own feet, and where his hands had touched upon the door so far.
Azalea turned to him, smiling yet again.
“I've grown strong, Master. Everyday even if it just looks like I am resting, or reading, I work to help keep your mind and body cleansed of Lady Penelope's corruption. Though you take to her rather well and she does not press it upon you. I still count myself fortunate for the cleansing as it has allowed me safe and constant practice. -And with our connection through the binding I never lack for mana either. It is a perfect situation.”
Ivan nodded, growing a little sober seeing his ghostly summon, and the constant reminder of the past that was her likeness. Azalea strode toward him slowly, spiked lantern and thick iron pole held at bay, and kept her head low as she came close.
Ivan could see through her ghostly form to the floor beyond her, and the effect was certainly less, through her iron pole and its large lantern head. Azalea might look like a ghostly beggar woman at first, but anyone with sense at all would see the uniformity of pattern in the ragged cloth draped over her. They would see its ragged and seemingly flame burned edges, and that light from her lantern and know that one of the Keepers of Souls was present. To those who could not apply logic to the situation it might frighten them and convince them that death had come for them while they still breathed, as if they had somehow missed their predetermined meeting.
“What level is your Pathfinder Job now?” Ivan asked.
“Pathfinder Neophyte is level 5 Master.” Azalea said with a clear smile on her lips.
“And Acolyte?” Ivan asked.
Azalea's clear delight came through even as she hid some of her features as she bowed her head.
“While doing tasks such as Cleansing Corruption I earn 'split experience' as you have called it. Acolyte is level 5 as well Master.” She replied.
Ivan pulled the ghostly demon into an embrace, the flame of her lantern providing a strange sensation against his arm where it was most near. Azalea stumbled a little, but pressed into the embrace after a small awkward moment.
“I'll teach you to fight soon. I promise.” Ivan said into the soft ghostly material of her hood.
She nodded, still very pleased to his senses, and gripped his arm beneath the Shroud.
“I look forward to it, Master. Be careful when you make your offering to Quixla today. She will be happy with you I think, but my worry remains. Your magic is bursting at the seams of late.” Azalea commented.
She leaned her head down against his shoulder and let out her tension as she remained in the embrace for a few short moments.
“I will return to the Shroud now Master and let you be on your way. Forgive my selfishness.” She said, and had she been more than a ghostly spirit form, probably would have been blushing terribly.
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Ivan didn't mind at all and kissed the top of her head before draping the Shroud of her. She slid into the shadows beneath the leather without effort, and smiled up at him, her hood hiding all but her lips and the presence of her glowing eyes behind the cloth as she vanished.
Ivan turned and broke out into the rain. His limbs were tingling, running with phantom lightning and excess energy. He could barely contain himself to a fast walk as he made his way through the streets and into side alleys. Then as he found himself in the darkest and unlit streets he felt the sounds of his steps start to fade from hearing. He stopped somewhere down the path.
He took a moment to feel the exchange of his mana, delving into his recollection of recent moments before they faded. The deep shadows gave him little resistance at all, but at times he had spent mana to stretch the shadows to the next deep corner of darkness. By wearing the Shroud and having it cast about him he could very easily walk in the shade, actually melting into the dark, and removing his physical presence entirely.
The union of his shadow and body felt...right, but regretfully limited. Something ached in him. Things howled and called from deeper darkness, their calls more scents and sensation than true sound. The warmth of blood and tingling fangs of hunger abated by the warm and rapturous dark.
Ivan shivered as he stepped out from the completely comfortable dark and into the light shade of the first path out of the city. He was near the Dungeon border, where the houses grew thinner and thinner until they gave way to the final approach down Old Oak Avenue. He stepped into the trees, and into the low brush of the forest.
Herbs, an itchy ivy, wild grasses, and weeds brushed at his boots and pulled at his trousers. He bent and touched them, taking a select few of them up carefully where he knelt with a gentle hand. He breathed in the gentle scent of the forest, the fresh loam of dirt, and the gentle claws of decay that worked in the soft mat of the forest floor. Here too there was dark and light.
The trees sheltered him and the other inhabitants of the forest under their alms. Protection from the water, wind, and sun given freely. Ivan extended his mystical senses with what little ability he had to do so and tried to feel out the best and darkest place the forest might offer him.
He wandered for some time, like a shade in the woods before he came upon a low fallen tree and a deeply tangled thicket. The forest couldn't have picked a better spot to make him feel at home, and there were even gifts waiting in the soft loamy soil. Ivan inspected them with a careful hand, his scroll appearing and flickering between shades of bloody red and deep black purple like a multicolor bonfire flame.
Inspect Object: Mushroom Inspection Successful
Purple Toadstool, Reagent, Mushroom, Poison
Poisonous to the touch and deadly when injected or ingested the acidic spores of the Purple Toadstool disdain living material of any kind. When ingested the spores will devour the organs and flesh. When injected necrosis will expand from the wound site and devour the flesh. The pain is said to be unimaginable, even in small doses.
Ivan retrieved the deadly mushroom species using a small steel trowel and a pair of small steel tongs to stow them away. That done he slipped into the heart of the tumbled thicket and called forth his conjured scroll once more, being sure to lay Quixla's dagger in the heart of the small space. He called for the web-like design of her summoning circle, its pentagram design somehow soothing to his eyes in this dark and enclosed space.
He found he was breathing hard with excitement as he finished the design, the fanged skull at its center, and placed the scroll atop the now shining dagger. Offering up a drop of his own blood as tribute then was enough to satisfy all of the conditions for returning the dagger as offering for Quixla's favor.
The drop struck the scroll, and it came alight in blood red shadowy mist, and its design pulsed deep and far, as if reaching into the depths of the earth.
There was the soft sound of startled breath, and then came the animal scent of a predator. The scent of rot and dust came with it, and the unmistakable feel of being watched. Chitinous, and hairy legs shifted somewhere near in the depths of the portal, and deadly red fangs clicked and clacked together as Quixla readied herself to speak.
“There you are...Ivan...” Quixla said, her voice a rasping whisper of lost and monstrous femininity.
She clacked her fangs, and her legs moved, the sound transferring through the surface of the portal. Ivan was stunned. He hadn't even said the incantation aloud yet and the connection through the summoning circle was so strong. Ivan bowed his head where he knelt, not sure if what he had done would offend her. He knew enough from Demonology 1 that many demons would be offended if summoned improperly, but that did not seem the case.
“Ivan! Please..!” Quixla hissed, her monstrous hissing voice clearly embarrassed.
Quick and slightly panicked sensations rushed through the portal, enveloping Ivan's own senses. Quixla was sated, almost high, off the gratuitous bounty Ivan had just granted her. She was...well to Ivan's immense surprise she was aroused to such a height as well that Ivan almost couldn't fathom the depth of her demonic longing. Ultimately however what she conveyed most was her complete happiness and satisfaction with Ivan's offering.
“I apologize for my delay in making this offering to you all the same Lady Quixla.” Ivan suggested, but another wave of clearly demonic and happy feelings surged out from the portal to envelope Ivan.
“You are...a fine hunter...Lord Ivan. Please. I know these things take time. I am...or was.... an ambush hunter after all... Much of my success depends upon patience.” Quixla said, her voice quivering like a nervous girl.
Ivan felt her desire to hunt, and the longing of her spirit to once again roam the world of flesh as it once had. She quivered with the mass of power, food, and raw mana, all one in the same to her now, Ivan had just fed her. Ivan instinctively put a palm to the glassy surface of the ritual, heightening his connection to the Demon Beast beyond.
Quixla's presence wavered, but she leaned into the ritual summoning like a feral dog or cat who had just learned the soft touch and warmth of being a family pet. There Ivan felt his rising magic surge and writhe through his limbs with wild fury. Quixla's touch fed upon it, daintily at first, and then drank slowly and carefully of the excess.
A complex interplay of emotions, sensations, and thoughts rolled over them both as Ivan offered his hand and that energy. Ivan immediately felt his body released from the tight tension he had been experiencing and something more, which became clear as he took a few calming breaths and sorted out his thoughts.
“My Lord Ivan....Ivan....” Quixla panted, spidery limbs and fangs clacking beyond the portal, as if monster or not she could not stand being away from his embrace.
Ivan took a long shuddering breath as he felt power and new magic racing through his limbs. His mind raced trying to catch up with what he had just done.
“Well...well...” Penelope hummed to herself as she observed from within the Shroud.
Ivan moved a little, sensing her desire to step forth from the depths of his little internal realm, and lifted the Shroud with a swing of his arm. As the dark cloth fell again it revealed Penelope in her full form, crouched on her knees before the circle.
“You're not content with just one then are you?” Penelope went on as she settled into place beside him.
She gave him a warm little smile, and touched his hand fondly.
Ivan looked at his guide as he drew back his arms, concerned for his limbs' sudden weariness after just a little movement. That passed quickly as new energy filled them. Then what had happened, and what Penelope was on about finally struck him, especially when he looked at his left hand. It had been that hand he put upon Quixla's circle, the one he wielded her dagger with seeming the most natural.
Upon it now was something of a duplicate form of Quixla's full summoning circle wrapped about his arm, its fanged head in the center of Ivan's palm, and her webs laced over his forearm and up his middle finger. He stared at that for a short moment, and reveled in the cessation of tingling power shooting through his limbs.
Maintaining the scroll with Quixla's active ritual with his left hand he brought up his scroll with his right. It didn't strike him until he had done it that he shouldn't have been able to do that. But the connection with Quixla, and her small realm in Hell remained even as his scroll laid out the details of what had just happened in more plain terms.
Inspecting Self: Inspection Complete
Congratulations! You've gained an Astral Spark!
Fundamental Skill: You gain increased mana regeneration and total mana based upon how many creatures and bindings you have effecting you.
Congratulations! Your Astral Spark has Bound itself to your Occult Ritualist Job!
Upon reaching level 5 in this Basic Job it will automatically advance to the Standard Class Job of Hell Speaker Ritualist!
Congratulations! You've gained a new Perk!
Black Magic Cultist: Perk, Unbound Ascension Perk;
The practice of your ritual magic sings in your blood and bone awakening an affinity for Black Magic within you. Whatever dark deeds you've done your spirit has seen and done them before. A new awakening is at hand, and you will let it sing forth through your freely offered blood!
Practical Effect Analysis: Increased Effect of Charisma upon summoned familiars. Increased Mana Regeneration upon summoned familiars. Increased effects of all Black Magic. Increased Mental Fortitude. Increased Astral Familiarity.
Congratulations! You've been gifted with the Mark of Quixla's Favor!
You may now conjure limited Blood Reaper Webbing, and may conjure Quixla's Blood-Feast Fang (Standard Class) to your hand for a low mana cost. In addition the healing effects of absorbing blood through any class of Quixla's conjured weapons will have increased potency.
Ivan's mind filled with sudden clarity. His limbs ran and tingled with fresh new magic as it carved its way into his body and reinforced his flesh. He felt each of the binds tying him to his two summons strengthen and felt the new bond with Quixla become clear in his mind.
It told him, in the way of a brief vision, where she had gone from the portal side. He still held open the gate, and offered mana to her through her domain, but he could see her now.
On a lonely mountain path there lay a cave covered in ancient magic seals and holy symbols. Ivan saw it as if he were a bird flying in upon the wing, and his sight dove inside through the overgrown cave and its sealed entrance to the shrine inside.
There, surrounded in holy materials, symbols, and delicate urns lay a well cared for wooden building with tightly sealed doors. Inside rested the desiccated corpse of Quixla's remains being used to bind her. The building's architecture was strange, and Ivan knew at once he was looking upon another world. But still he couldn't help but grin as enchanted chimes and seals of purity were slowly peeled away and their remains webbed into place by a few hundred tiny spiders that flooded from the building.
Ivan felt his will combined with Quixla's as she worked and summoned her own little spider-lings to secure her eventual escape from the shrine that contained her still living, yet desiccated flesh. Ivan felt the strength the offering and his new magic had given her, and he felt the connection of the instinctive Summoning Magic he had used on Quixla during their moment of contact.
In a way he understood that what he had done was to use Quixla's spiritual mass where it was pinned in hell as a way to pry open his latent magic spark that had been lingering in the wake of Istania's lost gift. He didn't know how exactly he had known to do that, but in the eye blink moments between Quixla's gift, and the setting of their bond with this third offering he had. Quixla had been needed for that transaction as well, her ability to awaken blood sparks being key to what he had done as much as the pathways left by the lost spark. Her ritual binding became the fulcrum, their newly forged bond the bar, and her ability to awaken Blood Sparks used as the sharpened tip of the tool.
And then just a moment more that he struggled to embrace, he experienced several moments of perfect clarity. Absolute clarity beyond the vision of Quixla's world. The Sun, the planet, their moons, and on through the heavens seemed to pass through his sight and mind into the Infinite Dark.
Once there he had the unmistakable impression that he had never meant to awaken the Astral Spark. It had been there, built into him, but as a back up plan. That in itself was strange as were many of the peripheral thoughts and ideas he had felt in that curious moment. Strangest of all was the feeling of absence of the two who should have been with him, and the incredibly lonely feeling that surrounded every overwhelming and unrecognizable thought he had in that moment.
He came back from that moment as if from a deep sleep, blinking his eyes and struggling to remember the dream and the words of his own mind spoken within. Ivan turned his hand over taking Penelope's delicate and clawed fingers into his own as he continued to support the communion ritual with Quixla until she returned.
Once Quixla scuttled back into her realm it was clear she was happier than she could readily explain.
“My Lord Ivan...I am pleased...Surprised...and very, very pleased. I am not strong enough yet after our exchange to break free, but the first steps of that play are now in motion....hhhnn... My children move upon the world of my home once again.” Quixla said, first breathy, and then calming as settled close to the communion ritual.
“My Lady Penelope, you train him well.” The Spider Demon commented, but Penelope shook her head.
“That was all him. I told you from the beginning that he was no ordinary mortal. The magic he has done today and cast upon you and himself is his own. Even if he cannot yet do such a thing again without the proper inspiration. We will find him that, or elevate him to such a level that his Intelligence attribute gives him ready access to what talent for magic he has shown today.” Penelope replied.
Ivan listened and thought he understood all that she said. His mind was soaked once again in thoughts of that strange moment of complete clarity and vision. His perception of himself, time, and everything in that moment had been so unbelievably clear, and detailed that it boggled his mind just to remember the vague impression left on his memory.
This was not the last spark he would awaken he knew now. With a certainty that he could not explain. And his fury and determination remained.
He gripped Penelope's hand, suddenly truly thankful for her company here in this world. He fought through the thoughts left to his mind left behind by that strange working of magic he had done. There was so much he couldn't put it into words. Penelope just smiled at him all the same however.
She had one wing cast over him and both hands on his cheeks, comforting him, before he thought he found the words to explain what he felt.
“It's like...In that moment. It was like I was drawing a painting. A painting of myself. But I wasn't me. And I was alone. So terribly alone. Beside me-- They were beside me.” Ivan stammered, struggling to get the words to come out in their proper order instead of all at once.
“Who was beside you?” Penelope asked curious, her eyes patient, caring, and burning with pride.
“Tanya, and Istania, but their painters..they were gone...the paintings left behind unfinished. Like their...like their corpses...” Ivan explained, his voice hollow, and his mind struggling to contain the concept of abyssal loneliness he had felt in that moment of clarity.
Penelope's eyes went wide, but she scooted closer, her scent and presence growing stronger as she got his attention. She bumped noses with him, and kissed his cheeks and lips. Ivan leaned into her touch, and returned her affections not really understanding why tears kept rolling down his face. Penelope wiped them away carefully and drew nearer still.
“Lord Ivan... I would ask... that you gather for me yet another bounty from the Dungeon if you can spare it...” Quixla softly interjected into the moment.
Ivan turned a little startled, having almost forgotten about Quixla entirely.
“Of course Quixla. You've been a friend. Your dagger has carried me through many tough and otherwise deadly encounters. Its armor piercing keenness and its deadly effects on my foes has likely saved me countless times. Thank you, Quixla. I mean it. I know you took a chance sharing any power with me. I want you to know I appreciate it.” Ivan replied, bowing his head to her communion circle once more.
As he did he glanced up at the scroll, and saw for just a moment, a pale spider's face. She was white across all her body and legs, and her eyes were as red as her gleaming fangs. She was a frightening and beautiful creature.
“--Lord Ivan!--” Quixla complained, voicing her objection to his abasement yet again.
Ivan's hand slipped through the communion barrier for just a moment then, whether it was something Quixla did or himself he did not know, but his hand met with Quixla's cephalothorax and the soft silken fur upon it.
Quixla hissed and shied just a little from his touch at first, but she came on a heartbeat later, fangs clacking gently, as she started brushing his hand gently with her body. Ivan praised her with gentle petting and a surge of his honest appreciation. The demon spider seemed to shudder, her own feelings coming off of her in a cloud to be sensed by his Insight.
The Demon Beast was incredibly embarrassed, but he crushed that feeling with a surge of his own observation of her form. She was a beautiful hunting creature. Something in Ivan certainly resonated with her as much or more than the parts of him that resonated with Penelope.
Penelope herself watched, and even put her own hands through the portal to scratch and pet Quixla's form without fear. Penelope laughed and giggled as if she and Quixla were a girl and her dog. Ivan felt the strong carapace and fleshy muscle fiber of the demon's body as he projected feelings of praise and appreciation upon the speechless demon.
If Quixla had the ability to speak just then she might have been whining softly in desperate complaint. She did not feel that she was as pretty as the two before her, and certainly did not think herself worthy of their praise and affection, but she was too greedy for the attention to turn away. It made Ivan smile and to spare her some shame Ivan pulled Penelope back from the portal as he began to withdraw his hand.
“Lady Quixla...” Ivan said, smiling and feeling oddly calm, “I will call upon you again when I have gathered another offering for you. In the meantime I wish you well and good tidings.”
Quixla drew away hesitantly, so that only the gleam of her eyes could be seen through the portal, but she nodded.
“Oh...of course...Lord Ivan...Lady Penelope....” Quixla replied, her rasping voice unable to hide something like girlish jubilation.
Ivan knew then that his presence and Penelope's own had an effect on the Spider Demon. She was even still aroused, but with a frustration that suggested she didn't think of either of them as mates. Still Ivan couldn't help but feel that under her monster form and eyes that Quixla was a living and thinking being, just another person. She might have been a monster, but she was a thinking one.
Ivan didn't like the idea of any creature being bound the way Quixla had been, spiritually neutered and restrained.
“Good...Goodbye.” Quixla bid them.
“Goodbye.” Penelope and Ivan both bid her.
Ivan released the communion portal then and felt the level up come just as clearly as it appeared upon his scroll still floating nearby.
Congratulations! You've Advanced you Occult Ritualist Job to Level 4 out of 5!
Level 4 Occult Ritualist Skill: Demonology Spell School. You now have access to all Grades of Demonology Magic. Mastery of each grade is required before moving onto the next. Your dedication to dealing with Demons and learning about them has borne fruit.
Level 4 Occult Ritualist Perk: Demon Charmer. You've used your Charisma to positive effects on more than one Demon. This perk will work with other effects in making your presence welcome and tolerable to most Demons. Your Insight and Charisma is now more effective on all types of Demon Kind.
Penelope read the list of his recent acquisitions and smiled at him, her eyes glittering dark purple gems as she did. Ivan moved, turning her toward him, and then let go of her wrists before he did anything more. Penelope grinned at him again, her expression girlish and more than a little flirtatious.
Ivan shook his head looking down at his hands and feet.
“What am I doing...in this hollow and in the dirt...” He mumbled.
Penelope grinned at him.
“You have a good sense for her. Quixla would like to be summoned to a nice enclosed space like this. It would make her feel very secure.” Penelope answered him.
Ivan nodded, admitting his own understanding of that somewhere in his own thoughts had been what motivated him to come here. He needed to learn more, advance faster, so he might understand these intuitions and gain even more benefit from them.
Penelope scooted closer to him and he eyed her.
Her form was as wonderful as ever, even with a little mud and dirt in her fur. Her wings looked warm and inviting curled about her, the only shield to her nudity. She smiled at him, and lifted her wings, sitting up, and even spreading her legs to give him an unashamed view of her whole body.
“It's also a secure and out of the way place to fool around in.” Penelope commented, waggling her eyebrows at him.
Ivan pushed her half halfheartedly. She smiled at him and came closer as she surged back toward him, eyes sparkling.
Ivan glanced at her and pulled his eyes away.
She leaned in close, putting hand-like claws at the apex of her wings on his shoulders like an extra pair of hands, before taking his wrists in her hands. She guided one hand to her breast and the other to her groin before throwing her arms around his neck. She leaned in and kissed him then without pause. Ivan fought through some of the sensation before his attention was drawn into the kiss and then further into the act of satisfying the lovely Demoness.