Ch: 216 More Sinned Against, Than Sinning
“Oh marvelous! He’s doing the thing again!” Julius exclaimed, bouncing on his toes in excitement.
“What ever are you talking about, Jules?” Grace asked sleepily from her bed on ‘Spray’. She was out of the care of Healer’s iron fisted tyrants, but still tired easily and was tender around her middle. Celeste had promised she would heal without a disfiguring scar, but her last peek at her tummy had not been overly encouraging.
“The boy, he’s doing the thing again!” The young duke insisted.
“Magiking his house into being? Is that what you mean?” She asked, slowly shifting to sit up, as he continued to bounce in place.
“No, he’s doing the musical thing… Come along, we don’t want to miss it!” He fidgeted and started stretching, limbering up for some activity… That was nice to watch, even if she would rather be resting. “We’re going dancing! Nothing too strenuous… and you can sneak a soak in the pool at the inn. Tawny’s orders!”
He began bustling about, Preparing to leave her cabin so that she could dress, instead, she slipped from the bedding silently, while his back was turned, fiddling with the dinner and tea things. She fidgeted with a few things of her own, while waiting for him to turn around.
She dropped one shoulder strap of her scandalous nighty, disarranging it for maximum impact, one full luminous breast nearly slipping free, while a dangerously long expanse of slender, well toned leg appeared completely by chance, of course. Just as her hair had not been painstakingly styled before he arrived, so that she would be ideally tousled for dinner in her quarters; with her young friend, the duke of Rummel and Port Clement.
Pale blue silk and ivory lace at bust and hem clung to the curves of a mature, but still youthful widow, in her prime and more than a little peckish, even though dinner had long finished. She had a mind to prepare her own desert and had begun preparations much earlier..
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Her gown’s steeply plunging neckline and slender silk straps were awkward for sleeping; a nice flannel nightshirt was far more comfortable… This was a panoply of war, designed for this battlefield and sculpted to her with exacting detail, as any well crafted armor and arms should be.
Poor Julius suspected that the night would be intimate and casually relaxed, considering her condition; belly wounds were always troubling, even under ideal conditions… magic bathtubs and gifted healers notwithstanding. When he turned around, it took a moment for the full impact to land.
Like a well planned cavalry charge, she crashed through his defenses and overran his ill prepared and disorganized thoughts.
“I’d planned for a little dancing… nothing too strenuous… Grace…” He mumbled, wheezing and gasping at the end. “Tawny, said I should get you… out of bed…” He barely squeaked the last words, before she was on him.
Their forces met and entangled, as he struggled to keep control, despite overwhelming force from her full frontal assault. She stood so close, the wisp of silk that barely covered her seemed less an obstacle than an invitation.
“Well if it’s Tawny’s orders…” She cooed, slipping into his arms, past the teapot he still held. “Nothing too strenuous though… I’m still recovering.” She whispered, her breath hot in his ear. “We could dance here, just you and I.”
Her initial attack had broken his defenses, now she needed reinforcements to bring this battle firmly under her control, time to turn his youthful hormones to her purposes…
“There’s no music…” He’d found his breath and voice again, and a measure of his courage as well. He stood up straighter and faced his opponent as a warrior should… that was a mistake.
Her garments were still in disarray, tempting and distracting the dutiful young lord with cruel disregard for his vulnerable state.
She smiled and turned a bit, arching her back slightly to reach the nearby window latch. Sweet, sensual music came trickling in as she sighed and began to sway, still languidly stretched out and resting one hand delicately on the window sill. The other hand, she held lightly to her almost exposed breast, in a feeble and transparent attempt to guard her modesty; nearly as transparent as her lace and silk garment was.
“You simply couldn’t expect me to venture out in the evening… in my condition.” She sighed and sank slowly back to the bed, sitting on the corner, for dramatic and tactical reasons.
“Are you tired? Shall I call for fresh tea?” Jules asked, stepping closer, with concern on his face.
“Perhaps a little dizzy, sit with me for a moment, Julius.” She whispered, patting the coverlet beside her. Naturally, he sat a slight distance away, as was proper, even in such intimate circumstances…
With a slinky stretch and yawn, she was curled in his unsuspecting lap, her head resting wonderfully, dangerously, distractingly close to certain unruly anatomical features of the handsome young duke.
“I’ll just rest here a moment… you don’t mind, do you?” She purred, gazing up at his flushed and excited face.
The nightgown was now hitched up so high on her hips, she barely even noticed it anymore; while the top had been pulled and dislodged into a quagmire of dangerous places for his eyes to land. Perfect.
With a well planned shift of her slender shoulders and with the aid of her slippery gown, she rolled into a more comfortable position, with her arms around his waist and her face nestled in his navel. She blissfully pretended not to notice anything that stirred beneath her cheek.
“I need my rest, foolish man. I was stabbed not long ago…” She murmured into his tummy.
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Rolf had found new depths of patience and mental fortitude within himself, while helping mind the three little kids… they seemed so old for their ages, yet they were so very, very young. Wilford especially seemed almost… one couldn’t rightly call a chubby three year old ‘wise’ or ‘a deep thinker’... but there it was. Amy had the wit, courage and self possession of a much older child; while Rio seemed to always see a little farther ahead, a little deeper than a four or five year old should.
Putting them to bed as though they were normal kids felt slightly staged, a little self aware. The kids were performing for the girls and the girls… himself as well, were performing their own roles in some scripted ritual of bedtime. It felt more like a comforting and familiar dance, with clear rules and roles for all the participants.
He followed the girls downstairs, back into the quiet musical chaos, with a warm feeling in his heart that wouldn’t go away. He was consumed in a slow bubbling nostalgia from half remembered evenings when he was small.
In his memories, everything was a golden haze, from before his vision had been corrected at the temple of Healer. Perhaps that tinged his feelings as they went back downstairs. Or, perhaps it was the small, pale, dark haired girl who’s quick mind held his interest in a way that incurious or idle noble girls had never managed.
He smiled foolishly all night, chasing her skirts through the dancing crowds. She was playing some game that only she knew the rules to, twirling and spinning among the people who had come up the little hillock to join the fun.
She smiled, beckoned, fled and teased, always just out of reach of his grasping hands… He could have sprinted and caught her up at any time, but his role in her game was to pursue, not catch, that much was obvious. Finally, she slowed and spun into his arms with a smile sheened with sweet, spicy smelling perspiration.
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Whatever scented oil Becky had dabbed behind Angie’s ears before the kid’s bedtime was smelling divine as her body warmed it, Rolf seemed to agree, when she allowed him close enough for a sniff. As the night grew later, she hitched her skirt a little higher, showing her prey a bit of her magic leg… Cheating? Maybe. ‘To hell with fair play!’ She thought with savage glee, while Rolf slowly fell under her power.
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Dancing with her was a dream, even though she was absolutely awful.
She could stamp on his toes as ever she liked, every glimpse of her shapely calf and ankle sent waves of absolute delight through his belly. ‘Poor Rolf is hooked, gaffed and waiting patiently to be filleted and fried.’ He thought to himself… and smiled with delight, when she finally spun into his arms.
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Gary watched the whole play from the bandstand. A bit of rest and he was back in it… He’d wondered why Shai had insisted he take a power nap, but he was back to enjoying the action and savoring his sweet memories of Shai playing that same game with him… “Hey…” He muttered softly to himself, as he began to notice.
Shai was in the crowd, as usual, but she was following Angie… rather, guiding Angie with her gifts, steering other dancers and party people out of her way and into Rolf’s. Becky was out there too, participating in some kind of scheme.
Before long he had the conspirators identified. It was Becky, Shai, Tawny, Liam, Ivy, Khan, Luna, Annie… Falco? He started getting frustrated when he noticed Cab and Fats were in on it too. Thinking back… Amy, Rio, even little innocent Wilford had all been…
“Aww, man!” He grumbled softly. “I am the freaking cult of Secrets…” The last part was almost a pitiful whine, as he tried to convince himself and failed.
The late show ended when Gary finally and utterly ran out, sagging on his stool and snoring softly. Tallum picked him up, while Liam swiped his guitar from nerveless fingers that were somehow still playing ‘La Mariposa’, long after he’d fallen asleep.
They dropped him off in the grotto, to soak and hopefully be functional in the morning. “Did Shai leave any instructions?” Dannyl asked, as he shut the door. “Care and feeding guidance?”
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“He’s not an incontinent pet…” Tallum began, until Liam and Dannyl both shot him questioning looks. “Ok, maybe a little bit like an incontinent pet.”
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Finally, the music drew to a close, lingering in what her new friends… her new family, called ‘spanish guitar’ until nearly the middle of the night. She watched as some of the boys dragged poor Gary off; like a soiled rug some incontinent pet had drenched.
“When Shai cuts in, let it happen.” Becky danced by and whispered in her ear.
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A few minutes later, while they were still slowly, idly dancing to the lingering music of Shai’s bells, the giantess swooped in and spun tired, sweaty Rolf away, while Becky took her hand and led her off into the garden; for giggling girl talk, no doubt. Rolf followed his musical hostess to the private baths, where she turned him into the changing room and departed with a smile on her lips.
“Tis late, best ye bathe and tae bed, we dinnae ken what the morrow brings.” She sang, leaving him alone in the well stocked chamber. Towels, robes, wraps and throws lined the shelves near the door, or hung on pegs nearby.
Rolf bathed in the hot steamy showers and slipped into the garden pool to soak and clear his mind.
For a young man in his position that meant only one thing. He needed to pick up a pound of meat, have a self care session, you know… beat off.
Order’s doctrines clearly stated that expressing excess sexual energy was healthful and essential to human wellbeing; as long as everything was strictly dignified and appropriately clinical.
That discipline eluded him, as his mind ran in circles around the girl who had run him in circles; always returning to those bright eyes, that flashing smile and her lovely calves. He even fantasized that she’d entered the bath, while he was busily… attending to his health under the steaming waterfall’s torrent.
“Sir Rolf, is that you under the falls?” A sweet and very familiar voice asked the shameful, hunched form lurking in the cataract. Daggers of ice shot through his every nerve ending with soul shattering force at the sound.
“Err.. yes?” He gasped, in humiliation and panic.
“Are you well? You seem stressed. Please come out where we can talk.” She sighed, lounging on the edge, submerged to her collarbones in swirling, green tinted water.
“I… uhh, have a… stiff muscle, I’m trying to… rub it out.” He half lied.
“Oh, let me help, Shai has been teaching me what she knows of the art of therapeutic massage… There is an old woman teaching the art in Wheatford.” She bustled over, into the falls and reached out in the cascade, fumbling for the young knight.
“No! I mean, no, please, don’t trouble yourself…!” He backpedaled away from the helpful maiden, lest she discover his shame.
‘That would probably kill me on the spot.’ He reflected in a moment of crystalline panic, as she sought him in the darkness, falling water and steam. ‘Darkness?’ He wondered briefly, as the lights went out, one by one.
Soon only one paper lantern glowed, by the side of the pool, directly behind him. He couldn’t see her in the dimness, but something told him she was closing in.
He slipped to the other side, silent in the soft roar of the falls. Strangely, the light went out, as another came up, right behind him. He moved again, sliding down the curb with slow and careful movements. Another light replaced the one he’d left, once more, illuminating only him.
With a soft cry of delight, his pursuer pounced, grasping him playfully around his shoulders, from behind. “There you are!” She whispered. “Don’t be so shy, sir Rolf! We have bathed together in this house before… Now, let nurse Angie help you with that cramp…”
Strong, slender hands began kneading his shoulders, rolling each muscle she found between her gently probing fingers, seeking the trouble spot. That became more troubling by the moment as she pressed her front against his back, making him acutely aware of her delightful closeness. Other things became more acute as well.
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Poor Rolf was in quite a state, Angie reflected, while gently kneading the rippling muscles of his lower back. The young knight was draped over the curb of the pool, with his glorious, golden honey backside barely submerged.
Angie had her tummy pressed against that lucious dual cushion, taking naughty delight in his exquisite blend of relaxation and mortal terror. Her untrained hands were just wandering over that broad expanse of golden skin and smoothly toned, succulent boy, slowly kneading him into a puddle of goo...
“Now hop up on the edge so I can get to your legs…” She whispered into his ear, causing his whole body to bunch up in horrified tension. She still had most of herself, snuggled close to him, so she got to feel the awesome surge of those powerful limbs as he realized what she was asking.
“I… I can’t get out of the water…” He whispered so softly she could barely hear him.
“And why ever not?” She demanded, cooing her words right into his ear, as she slipped around his wide shoulder, to lean closer. That rubbed more of her most interesting bits against his trembling form… to her delight.
“I fear I may be taking inappropriate liberties…” He whispered in desperate and crushing distress. “I am a belted knight of the realm… I couldn’t…” He gently unbeached himself from the edge, slipping back under the water with a desperate sigh.
“What liberties are you taking, sir Rolf?” She asked with a cold sound in her formerly warm voice. Her slender arm reached around his lower back, as a small hand clasped his left buttcheek in a gentle, but very forcefully intimate grip.
“I uhhh… am in a position of authority and responsibility… it would be wrong…!” Her gentle grip on his backside firmed a little, as her thumb strayed towards his nether crease. Another soft, small hand wound its way across his belly, gripping his hipbone and bringing that smooth skinned, slim forearm dangerously close to the ‘danger-zone’.
Before he really knew what was happening, Angie was slipping her body alongside him, snuggling close and resting her head on his chest, just above the water.
“Please…” He whispered desperately. “It’s not right… I have taken oaths… My honor will not permit…”
“You aren’t ‘taking liberties’ Rolf… I am.” She said softly into his chest. “Selfish, sneaking, cruel liberties, with a man who has been nothing but kind and gentle…”
She nestled in closer to him, somehow. It almost felt as though she were burrowing into his flesh, comfortably, gently and permanently. “I am selfish and a fool…” She whispered, slowly backing away from him, reluctantly. “I am chasing a selfish dream that could never come true, if you knew more about me, you would understand why… I’m sorry Rolf.”
“Don’t go… please.” His desperate whisper brought her back, just a little closer. “I’ve never… these thoughts and feelings, I can’t…”
She slipped away, drifting to the steps nearby. “I can’t either… I’m sorry, Rolf. Fantasy and reality seldom coexist peacefully in the real world… I will have to be content with what I have.” She paused at the steps, her back gleaming pale and sheened with droplets of glistening water in the dim lantern light. “Please turn away… I would have you remember me as you currently see me, sir Rolf.”
“I have seen you before…” He whispered, pleading and soft. “Stay, please… I care for you and would do anythi…”
“You haven’t seen me, you sweet, beautiful, perfect boy.” She sobbed, as she continued her retreat. With a soft wooden clatter, she took up the crutch leaning by the steps and lurched out of the bath, hobbling toward her leg, leaning against a blooming cherry tree.
Too late, Rolf realized he was still watching the heartbroken, beautiful girl, as she reached for her prosthetic. Shame at his dishonorable peeping, warred with shock, at the sight of her gnarled, mangled stub. Something burst in his chest, shaking the young knight and sending him reeling. Unthinking animal instinct drove him from the pool, to sweep the small, trembling young woman into his arms, in a nude, soggy embrace.
“Is that it? Your terrible secret?” He asked softly, while struggling to restrain his hands from wandering. They were clasped over her belly, his long muscular arms enfolding the small woman trembling in his grasp. “Do you think I would turn from you, for such a little thing?”
“I know you can’t bear to see my shame, please. Let me go.” She sobbed in his arms, feebly struggling to escape, even as she melted into him, pressing closer against his chest.
“The only shame here is mine… A knight so weak, he can’t restrain himself, when confronted by his true love.” A soft tremor in his voice and his arms shook her body gently, as they sobbed together and sank to the grass beneath the tree, as blossoms drifted down.
They paid no mind when a coverlet drifted down from the branches to enfold them, followed by the soft giggle of feminine laughter.
Gary woke about an hour before dawn, still exhausted in every way except for being able to sleep. Mana, Etheric and Stamina bars all looked good. His health bar was tip top, but when he stepped into the light, his poor shadow looked like it had been smeared out into a spreading, blurry puddle. “Ooo, that’s it.” He murmured, staggering out into the private bath for whatever moonlight he could soak up until dawn.
He stepped inside and frowned… not that anyone would know, it was super dark. He flexed his will and brought the lights up a little, igniting the paper lanterns for a soft glow in the overcast morning. Somebody was curled up under the blooming cherry tree, asleep. A quick glance showed two heads,one dark, one golden, so two somebodies were sleeping in his private bath.
Gary had long since distanced himself and his attention from the private and bathing areas of the house… and had largely released any real interest in the activities inside his house. Instead he let it be a mellow awareness that everything was ok, until it wasn’t.
As long as everyone inside belonged inside and nobody was doing violence or hurt… he just kinda let it float on by… so it took a moment to figure out who his bath sleepers were.
“Gary…” Shai whispered, right behind him. “An ye disturb those two, sweetly an chastely sleeping taegether, I’ll see ye sleep in the stables this night.”
They withdrew, dimming the lanterns and placing a ‘Do Not Disturb’ butthole on the door. “I did always mean tae ask… Why dae the dinnae disturb signs be anuseses… anii? Fie on yer fancy speech, they be puck’rd arseholes.”
“I dunno, I made the first one for Khan that first night. It just kinda feels right.” He shrugged on the way downstairs into the workshop.
Shai and he looked at his giant pile of broken instruments, toys and wares… and sighed dejectedly. The broken and ruined goods were still heaped up from the cursed murderburglar’s fatal raid.
“Dang…”
“Aye, dang indeed. Come lad, let’s see what kin be salvaged an what be firewood.” Shai started digging into the pile, searching out the obvious scrap.
“Awww…. My shamisen!” He sighed again and deflated. “She’s not coming back from this one, I’m afraid.” The body and neck were never going to meet up again, much like Shaheen’s…
As he looked around, all of the damaged instruments had been hacked and slashed, but the ‘heads’ and ‘necks’ of any instrument that had them, had been parted with a single stroke… just like freaking Shaheen!
“Babe, check this out…” He whispered, breathless with excitement. “I think I found a clue!”
“That is the work of a greater Dullahan, a headless knight, doomed to roam on his deathless steed, seeking the heads of mortals. Untiring, undying and until he finds his own, or another that will fit, immortal… Until now.” Plumeria said from the stairs.
“Willow asked me to visit, since she has no suitable tree in your garden, a matter she would like corrected, please.”
“Willow?” Gary asked, perplexed and pleased by the dryad’s visit. “What’s her stake in this? I’ve only met her a couple times.”
“She has seen my puppet body and learnt of Liam’s ‘bonsai’ art. She is deeply interested and would like to have the power to visit on her own, when needed.” She said with a smile. “Like Fig, her interest and affection for humans borders on obsession, though she is far more… family friendly, direct and agreeable, shall we say?”
“I’m agreeable… I have more prosthetic work on the table so I’ll work on her at the same time. I’ll need some lumber… Willow lumber if she wants it to work like yours.”
“Ahh, the human penchant for trading and bargains…” She sighed happily. “I came prepared. I can offer you information on the creature that stole your…” She shuddered like a windswept plum tree. “Your Thing.”
She shuddered again, even shedding a few petals from her hair.
“Though that is a mere curiosity, you will find. In addition, she offers a mature cottage willow, not far from here. You may harvest it, on the condition that you plant a new sapling. She will provide one and another to cultivate on your grounds, that she may call on you.”
“I wasn’t bargaining, but ok, spill the info.” Gary said with a grin, while Shai sighed at her fool.
“Lad, an immortal spirit does wish tae bargain wi thee… kin ye nae aim higher than a bit of lumber an some gossip?” She demanded, with a wide smile that sapped some of the energy from her critique.
Plumeria smiled and shook her beautiful, regal, tiny head. “I will sweeten the deal with some of my amber and I will allow you to harvest two trees with my essence infused through them… You do enjoy working with me, don’t you?” She put a sensual, teasing lilt on her words, to tease Shai a little.
“Willow will tell you all when you arrive to harvest the tree. She said to give her a few days to really dwell in it before you come.” She sat down in a sofa nearby, conjured by the boy, just for her. “Don’t let me interrupt your work. I will relate what I know while you continue.”
“A Dullahan is the result of a human knight losing his head, while falling into darkness, revenge and fury, taking his familiar steed with him. The two entities became entangled and as the human soul ventured into undeath, his steed’s fae nature and their bond created a unique, immortal, unliving, undead fae being of darkness and rage.” She smiled benignly.
Dullahan are exceedingly rare and, unlike most fae spirits, can manifest physically to do violence in person. His headless condition seems to have driven him to sever any head… or head analog he encountered.” She tutted unhappily, before continuing. “He seems to have murdered someone in your domain, stealing that poor soul’s Animus to cloak himself just long enough to remain physical and steal your…” Her disgust was obvious. “Why would you make such a thing in the first place?”
“I didn’t mean to… I kinda had a… personal crisis.”
“Well, your ‘personal crisis’ dissolved the Dullahan’s stolen Animus, then began consuming him. He stepped into the sun and surrendered his unlife, rather than exist under your curse.”
Shai stabbed him through the heart with her glare. “Nae a dangerous curse, ye did claim, ‘Just haunted’ Ye said!”
He shrugged helplessly. “I always secretly liked Yoko Ono… She’s a true artist, fun and funny, but controversial and challenging.” That naturally did little to clear up the matter, for anyone.
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