A/n: enjoy our break away from Nox
20.5 somewhere out there
Bad Kitty
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I, Darya, born of a grand noble house in the great black city Moskva, am currently in the single most uncomfortable, black dress of my entire life.
The over skirt drags on the floor, constantly getting caught on the furniture. The corset is determined to break my ribs. The bust is taking advantage of my short, dark hair to make a show of my flat chest.
Lest I forget the sea of pointless frills, I feel like the centerpiece of a gypsy circus. Also the waist is squeezing my ass like being trapped in tight sheets. Not that my usual outfit was less form fitting but at least it was comfortable and tasteful.
I suppose this punishment is still not as bad as the rat box I was being kept in up until a few weeks ago.
Casting my gaze across the room I try not to give too much thought to the ridiculous amount of gaudy black and red decor. These depressing black stone walls have kept me prisoner for what must be nearly a year now.
To the perpetrator of my internment as snack food, I query, “What would it take for me to be permitted use of my own clothes?”
At least give me my hat back.
The gentleman seated on the posh, red lounge chair calmly strokes back his white hair and picks a bit of lint from the collar of his slim black suit.
He leans back, crosses his slender legs and looks at me over his glass of red liquid, freshly poured from the now bandaged cut along my wrist.
“If I permitted you any more freedom, what kind of punishment would that be for your infatuation with killing the other servants? Charming as you are, I do not fancy spending all my time in your sole company.”
I sigh into the slow burning, ancient stone fireplace, “Surely you are not pouting over the loss of cretins weak enough to be slaughtered by their own food?”
The man sips the glass, licking his lips afterward like a wild predator, “Of course not, it only proves the caliber of myself in relation to the pedigree of my personal snack.”
Raising a hand to my cheek in mock embarrassment, “Oh dear me, you flatter me so.”
With a raised eyebrow, he grins; those wicked fangs catch the light of the fire, “Sarcasm is a decent strategy towards making me kill you. It would be a rather boring and dramatic form of departure from your captivity however.”
A small laugh escapes my lips as I stroke my own black tail out of nervous habit, “I’m rather fond of living actually.”
The old baron stands with a stretch, “Yet you do not seem to have the slightest hesitation over using your own life blood to dispatch anyone you deem irksome. I believe that was the reason those ruffians sold you to me, revenge for their comrade whom you killed by removing both of his eyes.”
I cross my arms and declare, “The filthy human tried to fondle my ass, removal of his lustful eyes was fitting.”
He laughs, a deep menacing chuckle, “I do enjoy seeing how sharp your ears point up when you are angry Miss Kitten. While it’s slightly annoying to gather new servants, you may be worth the trouble.”
Faced with the thought of being a permanent fixture at this monsters side, for the first time, I wish for one of those impossible white knights that always show up in children's stories.
As the ancient evil walks towards the door, “I am expecting some rather troublesome guests within the coming month. Perhaps they’ll also find you entertaining when the time comes.”
Following him out of the room while careful not to get this stupid dress caught on anything, “What kind of guests would you consider troublesome?”
Despite the stone floor, his boots fail to make a sound as he walks, “A pair of warg puppies, while killing them would be simple, I would be at a rather severe disadvantage to their enraged father.”
I carefully think back on my schooling, “Shouldn’t all the wargs have been wiped out at the end of the Great War?”
The monster stops to look back at me, his brow raised in curiosity, “If that is what children learn these days then the elders in Yoden have done a marvelous job of changing history.”
Yoden?
He resumes walking and explains, “My pet, wargs are very much alive and doing quite well for themselves. The one in question is in fact the lord of this very land, the Fenrir.”
We enter the dining room, He goes one while taking a seat, “He is a dangerous opponent thanks to his rather masterful control over metal, silver included. As I understand it, his youngest son whom we’ll be meeting takes after his father rather strongly in this aspect.”
A servant brings in a cart. She hands her master a fresh glass and a plate of raw meat. To me she hands a plate of roasted quail and sneers as she moves away. Healthy food makes for better blood I suppose.
Noticing the likely intentional lack of silverware, “I’m afraid you may be minus another servant quite soon.”
He keenly observes the source of my annoyance and passes me the bottle of blood.
“Such a gentleman as always,” From the small stream I pour from the bottle I create a crystal fork, “So what motivation do these puppies with a troublesome father have for visiting your secluded abode.”
He frowns as he accepts the bottle back from me and pours his glass, “The local ruffians have been over farming travelers to sell to me and my servants seem over eager to accept.”
The quail is slightly undercooked, I’ll add the chef to my list, “So they’ll be arriving expecting to deal with the issue, they may even possibly attempt to dispatch you.”
The monster smiles once more, “While it could be entertaining, there is the smallest possibility of them succeeding. Having lived this long already I feel disinclined to death. I’ll strike up a deal and send them on their way.”
I put down my fork, “I might guess you intend to involve me in this deal?”
With a sip of his glance I see him scowl and glance almost longingly at my bandaged arm, “That is up to you, the real deal shall be between us. If you agree to send me a bottle of your delicious blood monthly, I’ll use you to make them leave.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, “You’re confident they’ll be persuaded so easily?”
“They’ll accomplish their goal and rescue a damsel in distress without even needing to fight. Meanwhile I both keep my favorite snack and avoid the Fenrir's bad side.”
He looks at the label on the bottle again. All things considered he seems to be accepting the worse end of this deal.
Let him be depressed, “Sounds fine to me, I’ll play my part.”
I gently wipe my mouth and stand from the table, “If you’ll excuse me master, I require a few words with the chef.”
His annoyance, clear in his voice, “I only have one chef, Miss Kitten.”
Despite his warning, “You can cook food with one eye.”
The Fool
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Through long cold nights and days like fire, I have travelled north to fulfill my goddess’s’ desire.
The endless sands bite my skin in the harsh gale, but in my quest I will not fail.
Within my head the cursed rhyming persists, despite my every attempt to resist.
The fur of my scales keeps the sand from making me itch, yet she dared to laugh at them, that bitch.
As some of my memory slowly returns, I know I am a pangolin collecting sunburns.
My lonely travels have taught me much, survival tricks, self-defense, navigation and such.
As the sun sets my luck finds me at the edge of a small town, hearing the sounds of a rowdy tavern I cannot frown.
Kicking the sand from my boots as I enter, every one turns, their attention finds me at the center.
I smile as friendly as I can put forth, “Greetings, what news have you from the north?”
Established as a simple traveler from the south, most don't bother to open their mouth.
However one man at the bar side hails me, “Come stranger, buy this old man a drink and I’ll tell you the latest rumors.”
The man’s attire matches the others at drink, a water farmer, I think.
I give the lovely barkeep a few silver coins; I swear the woman just eyed my loins!
Looking back to the old man on my right, “So what of the north good sir, last I heard it was in the midst of a good fight.”
He takes a swig of his fresh mug, and then looks me up and down, likely wondering if I’m a thug.
“If you fancy yourself a mercenary then for sure the Yoden army will hire you. But lad, I’d advise against it. Those monstrous naga are putting up quite the fight. Word is that it will come down to whoever tires first.”
This war has been the main topic of every town along my journey; it seems far beyond a simple tourney.
Of those I’ve won many with my trusted dagger, I have sent many a large man home with a limp and a stagger.
Feeling that some honesty might be worth risking, “My journey is in search of my lost daughters, stolen away by my wife’s sister. Long have I walked collecting many a blister.”
The man inspects me once more, “You are not the first I’ve heard tell with such a story lately, many daughters seem to have gone missing. You might be the first to have such a strange way of speaking however, where exactly are you from?”
“Alas I cannot remember, my wife is a witch. She cursed me for the loss of our daughters, I am fortunate my limbs, she did not dismember.”
With widened eyes the barkeep asks, “What kind of man marries a witch?!”
The old man laughs, “A fool for sure, tell me, is she worth the trouble?”
I recall the moonlit night of our first meeting, the burning pot, my ass, heating.
“Good sir, my wife is a beauty beyond compare, for her, anything, I would dare.”
The old coot chuckles once more, “A toast to dangerous booty, I mean beauty!”
Wars gather men by the thousand; surely someone will have a hint for my travel’s end.
The night grows long and after many a tavern song I feel it’s time to retire.
As I make to leave the barkeep woman stops me, “Now dear you just arrived in town, do you have a place to stay?”
“Dear woman, my plan is to camp outside of town, come now don’t frown.”
Her pout couldn’t possibly be more fake.
She strongly grips my arm, I worry for potential harm.
“Now young lad that just won't do, come with me, I’ll lend you my place.”
Her home wasn’t far, in fact it’s right next to the bar.
Still holding me, she guides me up a set of stairs in her dark home and into a room, there was no chance to flee.
The room is similarly dark with small red candles creating a faint glow and shadows dancing about the grey walls.
A large bed with red satin sheets appears like the centerpiece in art.
The rug gives warning to the nature of my situation, red stains could indicate this woman having an unfortunate infatuation.
At the sound of something heavy being lifted off a table I turn around with a start.
The woman begins to unbutton her shirt, a leather whip in her hands.
Mistakes were made.
The Angry Black Sheep
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The wind outside picks up causing my ship to shake slightly as we slowly cruise in the air over endless jungles.
Before me is an extremely unwelcome guest, I can feel my beautiful black fur stand on end just by him being here. He even has the gall to be staring down my girls.
I pound my large fist against the armrest of my captain’s chair, “Janyu, you better have a good reason for sneaking onto my airship other than to creep out my crew.”
His face snaps forward, there is a hesitation while he considers his words, “Dear Fala, you look well, that’s a lovely leather jacket, it matches your horns”
“Shut up,” why on Terra did this idiot think coming to me was a good idea, “Being here can only mean you failed whatever task was set for you. Give me one good reason not to simply kill you and save our master the trouble.”
I signal my little fox-bat girl go to the cabinet near the back of the room, “The bowl of gems please.”
She eagerly dashes with a scurry and almost trips on the wood planked floor on her way back, oooh this girl is too adorable!
Janyu looks nervously at the bowl of colorful stones placed on my armrest.
I begin to pick through them, each gemstone contains a powerful spell for a one time use. This was one of the many prizes offered to me in a plea for mercy in our latest campaign.
Truth be told I can only guess as to what spell is stored in any particular stone.
I look to Janyu, “I’m waiting.”
He spares one more nervous glance at the bowl, “True I have failed, my goal in coming here was to offer my service in hope of redeeming myself.”
I grin, “A surprisingly honest answer, however you chose poorly for your hope of redemption, I tolerate neither failure nor men in my presence.”
Picking a pale yellow gem up I flick it at him.
He tries to avoid it, shifting into a blue, formless flame, but the gem seems to draw in the fire.
With a small green flash, what remains afterward is a common white farm rooster with small horns and blue markings.
The rooster looks at its own wings, “Alright, I'm not dead, but I’m struggling to decide if that’s a good thing.”
While I was honestly hoping it would kill him, I will go ahead with the assumption that nothing in the bowl is directly lethal….probably.
One of my cat girls gets a rather hungry look in her eye, “Janyu, as long as you maintain that form I will leave you alone and not mention your arrival to the master, however... I suggest you start running.”
As my girl excitedly chases the man about the ship I lean back and enjoy the glass of wine brought to me.
Living on a farm might not be so bad.
Shelter from the Storm
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Three weeks I have wandered in the snow, the occasional berry bush or squirrel hole being my only source of food.
Even now I keep my sharp ears perked for the clomp of the dullahan's hooves in the snow.
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Father always said the hunt was just a sport of some old ghosts, that there were far worse things this far north.
I suppose that even if he had told me what could be worse, there is nothing a child like me could do about it past lie awake at night in fear.
But now he’s gone, mother is gone, they’re all gone. The village was nothing but a smoking field sinking into the snowdrift by the time I managed the courage to peek my head from hiding.
South east by the light of the stars is now my only hope.
My ragged cloak is soaked through with the melting snow and mud, at some point I staggered into a mire.
Steam rises from the ground, the will o wisps are trying to lead me astray.
Through the old, black moss willow trees I see a faint light. Not a ghost light but one from what should be a lamp.
Carefully, quietly, ever so slow, I come to an earthen hut.
My small, reaching hand hesitates before knocking. Who would live in a bog?
The door opens shedding light onto me, I can only hide my face in fear with my dirty cloak.
A female voice, old and hoarse, “A child has come, what fun, what fun. Come show me your face and enter from the cold.”
She must be a witch, in which case I’m already good as dead.
I lower my hood, I will not behave as such a coward ever again. If I die it would only allow me to see my family sooner.
But that hope escapes me, fast as my breath.
The voice, although female, belonged to a cat, tall as a hound, and standing on its hind legs a bit taller than me.
Its bristly fur gives it the image of having a hunchback, white spots on her chest contrast her inky black fur.
She speaks, “An elf I see, I see. So the smell of fire three weeks ago was from an elf village. The spirits have been rowdy this moon. Sit down child and listen to my offer.”
The hut is quite warm in fact, a small bed, many cupboards, a large clay fireplace with an immense black pot.
I do as instructed and take a seat on a large toadstool growing near a stump in the middle of the hut.
The cat makes another toadstool grow across from me and also takes a seat, “Elf child you now fear for your life I would think , I think. Normally one would, but you are no simple human child, the likes of which are too common just south of here.”
I remain silent as she stares at her southern wall with disgust.
The cat stokes her whiskers and continues, “I am old and on my ninth, give my last in this realm meaning as my student and in exchange I’ll grant you my power when I die.”
A cat sith as I expected, they're witches who draw power from people's souls…. “This sounds too good, my father warned me of such deals.”
She laughs joyfully, “Blessed you were, you Were. Such a good father is rare round here. True this offer seems one sided for you. My time is running out, in the last twenty years only old humans I’ve seen, I’ve killed.”
The emphasis she gave makes me swallow my breath.
But she smiles, “An elf however, is capable of learning my trade indeed , indeed. You should be better than me in fact. If a downside is what you need in order to agree than I shall oblige.”
She stands, fetches something from a small wooden dresser and returns, handing me a pocket mirror.
This is the first I’ve ever been handed a mirror, mother would scold me when I played with hers.
My blonde hair is a mess, red stains of blood still taint my image. My skin dirtied, my gold eyes faded, my ears even drooped. Why am I cursed to look in such a sad state.
The cat touches the top of the mirror, “While sad you already look, yes look, here is your downside should you learn from me.”
In the mirror my hair turns black and sharp, my skin goes pale as snow, my eyes turn green and cat like, fur creeps onto my ears, my nose shrinks slightly, and lastly a pair of feline fangs protrudes from my upper lip.
I see, should I look like this then I too will be mostly bound to this hut.
“So child, what shall it be, it be? Should you decide to leave here, I’ll allow it. If you don't starve then the humans in the only town near here will surely make you a slave. Oh and one more thing, should you inherit my power...Revenge is a lovely word, yes?”
Nothing more need be said, “Yes.”
A toothy grin, revealing many sharp fangs, “Excellent, your name elfling, your name?”
She puts forth a paw to which I shake, “Holly”
A small popping sound behind me was the only warning before looking back to see a fresh, black cat tail coming from myself.
“Well Holly, I shall be your first soul.”
Valhalla
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“Maug are you listening?!” Freki is looking at me with her arms at her hips.
We’re casually walking up a mountain path between jagged grey rocks, the peak should be near.
I reign in myself, my legs don't want to stop shaking, my tail, firmly tucked between my legs. I don’t care if it’s an embarrassing sight, the narrowed eyes from Ulfa tell me as such.
We are, for the first time, about to enter the home of the Great Woden.
Freki snaps her fingers, “You will remain silent unless spoken too, at which point you will speak the minimum possible, and above all mention nothing of my activities.”
What does that even mean?!
Freki turns into her warg form, massive yet elegant. She is at least triple my size and yet the very sight of her is calming. Her smooth black fur hugs close to her figure, even Ulfa seems enchanted.
She leads us through the light snow flurry coming from the cloudless sky.
Far more stars than I had ever imagined glitter the sky. Various constellations and celestial bodies seem almost highlighted amongst the breath taking void.
Reaching the top, we approach a vast cabin made of logs and stone, easily passable as a small yet unique castle. The wood still seems like it was cut yesterday.
A warmth radiates from the building and I can smell what must surely be a grand feast cooking over open fire. I can see smoke rising from the roof in several places.
As we approach the front steps the large double doors open in the presence of our mistress. The light from many an antler chandelier almost blinds me.
The sounds of roaring fires, merry people feasting, and cheerful music of flutes and drums doesn’t stop at all to recognize our arrival.
Bonfires are ablaze throughout the grand hall, their smoke rising through open roofs and into the night sky. Casting shadows that seem to dance playfully along the many intricately carved pillars, each one seeming to show a grand battle or hunt.
Ulfa and I follow our mistress at her flanks until she suddenly stops and bows, I quickly follow suit.
“Ah! My long mopeful pet finally returns from her stump in the woods. Welcome Freki, it’s been too long since you’ve been home to enjoy a drink at my side!”
He is a giant of a man, how did I miss him walking in here?! Head nearly reaching the rafters of the log house. His beard, grey and down to his waist, his hair grey to match. His clothing, brown furs, simple, but warm looking. He has one piercing black eye, the other hidden by a black leather patch.
A simple north man, giant yet surprisingly plain. Surely a welcoming presence rather than a frightful one.
Mistress replies in a cheerful tone, “It is indeed a warm home worth returning to Father.”
He sits back in his massive chair, I now see it seems to be made of moose antlers.
A jolly laugh that shakes the ground, “Of course, now, introduce me to your healthy pups.”
The mistress’ tail flicks my nose, “This is Maug, and this, is Ulfa.”
I finally lift my head and quickly spout, “It is an honor! Lord Woden!”
He smiles at me and scratches his beard, “I had almost forgotten the Terran realm uses that name. I could never decide if I liked it or the Earth realm’s Odin more… regardless, welcome to my home pups! Tonight you’ll surely fill your bellies.”
Now Woden stares hard at our mistress, “Freki.”
“Yes Father.”
“Stop acting like a mere dog and report.”
The hall goes silent, she shifts in fog and appears on one knee in her normal form. With a glance back from her, Ulfa and I also shift.
Freki’s voice practically monotone, “The Terran realm is currently hanging on a thread between total war or a continued peace. The darkness of the Olympians works to destroy the balance they created themselves.”
Woden sighs and takes a drink of his mug… I think I could fit in it.
“Stand my pet, that world was meant to be in constant conflict between you lesser gods. Should the great Ragnarok ever occur it would be shameful for you to be inexperienced.”
Constant war?!
He goes on, “Yet all I hear is that braggart Zeus prattle on about his precious little girl and that damn cheating axe.”
I’m sensing some pent up frustration...oooh I’ll just not think that again, he just gave me a look, right, greater gods and their omni...whatever.
Woden laughs that great belly chuckle, “A fine pup my dear, he suits you well. Indeed, Zeus has been bothersome.”
Freki speaks up, “Is that why you gave away two of my pups?”
“Hmm, yes, a deal was made, but you forget who their mother was. The Shinto had equal right to your pups. I don’t think you should feel upset over Vilia either, she has done well to ascend and join our ranks. It’s only natural she be rewarded with a high born ward at some point.”
Woden takes another drink, “The axe… while it does indeed hold absurd power, it is just an object that can be broken, lost, or stolen. I have been receiving complaints about your prize pup. What gave you reason to breed a mortal capable of rivaling yourself and other lesser gods? After centuries of pouting no less.”
...Nox? True he certainly doesn’t lack potential... but to rival a god?
She looks fearless, “A Fenrir born of a Raijin, and the most prodigious Inari to date. Gifted the perfect soul from Earth realm, I will have my revenge and take all of Terra for Valhalla.”
Woden shakes his head, “And yet the target of your revenge is your own brother, while you squabble, other gods will take advantage of the chaos. At the very least, Zeus doesn’t look to be staying on top of this little game much longer. Come let us feast, we’ll speak more of this later.”
We bow and move to a table near Lord Woden.
Sitting to Freki’s side I watch her angrily stab her fork at a sausage and viciously chomp half of it away… I think it's a sausage... it’s not a sausage… I just lost my appetite.
Drink to the Foam
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Mother yelled at me yesterday, “Patra! You’ve been holed up in that workshop for a week! Get your ass to the castle and properly attend to Akane. You were so insistent on becoming her primary attendant and yet she’s moping about saying you're too busy.”
The carriage ride is bumpy, I bet if the wheels were mounted on something flexible it would take some of the shock out.
I adjust my silk top and check my pocket mirror, mother will strangle me if I show up to the castle like I just rolled out of bed. The advantage of short hair makes mornings a little easier. I don't know how those court girls can stand to sit for an hour while someone does their hair.
The sleeve cuffs of my leather mini jacket are starting to fray, maybe I have been overworking.
With a sigh I lean on the window, we pass a small veggie stand. The cobbled streets of Yoden are always busy. From the cobbles to the always getting taller buildings, everyone is busy. I do love my Aka, but I just feel like there is so much I need to get done.
I already can’t wait for Walt and Fuzzy to get back so I can try more things. I received more metals to test yesterday morning! Maybe once the Fenrir has had a bit to drink tonight I can get him to show me the castle royal armory.
Mother has held to the claim that I wouldn’t understand any of the fine crafts stored inside.
I am an artist! I will make something to impress her one day! Let cousin slave on simple work for the militia all day like father…. that’s not fair, father’s work is incredibly reliable, he is a blessing to the castle guard. I can really see his pride in his work with every soldier I pass within the castle walls.
Cousin could only hope to be as good as Father.
The guards greet me with a smile, I’m sure they’re also incredibly grateful for my father’s hard work.
The smiths in the crafting district would sell everything they own and their first born to be in my family’s position.
It’s barely past noon when I enter the Fenrir's study.
But the time of day doesn’t seem to matter to our Lord Alpha…
“Here Aka, this is a fine drink from Moskva, the largest city North East from here. It’s called Kvass, it has practically no strength and is made with strawberries.”
The Fenrir passes Akane a mug which she eagerly takes a drink from.
She pauses after downing the whole thing, “Mmm no, this tastes like mint, still good though.”
The Fenrir examines the small casks he has lined up on a table, “Ah, sorry that is Kvass, just a different flavor. I have trouble with some of the demon race’s writing still, here this is the strawberry one.”
With a fresh mug, Akane takes another large drink. This is what she does with her father all day?
As I look down the tables lined up I count past twenty casks… They are on the third one.
A maid from the kitchen knocks and holds the door while the guards bring in five more casks.
Does the Inari know about this?! Wait.. She’d probably insist on bringing in some of her sake jars.
I’m in for a rough night.
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Whoever won the prize in Madam Nyx’s card game?
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A/n So as my average rating, number of readers, and post chapter comments slowly drop, I'd love to hear some more specific criticisms.
These weeks before continuing the main story i'm looking at fixing up some of the older ones, without changing the plot of course. Clearly there is this unfounded notion that nox is an under powered pussy that i think is just the vocal minority. but im goin to look into where someone could get that idea.
So specifically, What is causing readers to drop my story?