Ch: 217 …And Laugh At Gilded Butterflies
For the first time he could remember, Rolf woke in the arms of another person. Angie was draped around him, even as he was entangled with her and a blanket. What seemed like acres of smooth warm skin was pressed close to him, bringing a comfort and welcome feeling of pure, simple acceptance he hadn’t felt since his first Contract, so long ago.
Angie stirred gently and opened her big dark eyes, gazing into his as they embraced in the morning sunshine, under the spreading boughs of a blooming cherry tree. She nuzzled into his neck and pulled him closer with a fierce and possessive grunt of pleasure, while her hands roamed freely... “Mine.” She growled. “Not yet, but someday… Mine!” Her hand stopped just at the edge of the curly blonde forest, below his taut and sensitive navel, her fingers twirled idly in the soft, curly hair, so close, so terribly close.
“I won’t seize the prize from you, sir Rolf… but remember that I could have…”
Her eyes flashed with a fiercely possessive and passionate light, even as her hand was so damnably distractingly warm and close… so close… even closer were her lips, pale pink and trembling in the morning sun. Rolf was only a man… he couldn’t help but taste them.
#
Cherry, in her stick insect form, relaxed in the boughs with Plumeria, enjoying the show. ‘I simply can’t thank you enough, darling... This is just delightful!’ Her silent voice rang out, pleased and ecstatic in the clear cool morning.
‘This little tree has experienced something like this before… the first stirrings of repressed mortal passions unleashed.’ She sighed and lounged back among the blossoms. ‘They are both so repressed and constrained by their own emotional and spiritual baggage… it’s deliciously wicked!’
‘I knew you would enjoy them… the girl is special, deeply damaged, but very potently magical and clever… the boy, he is something else. Do you feel it?’ Plumeria asked gently.
‘How could I not? He is nearly as self destructive as your pet otherling druid.’ She sighed her insectile displeasure, by rattling her wing cases. ‘Humans, always so sweetly tragic… when they aren’t being brutal savages.’
‘That innate conflict between the animal and the sentient is what you feel… and why they are so enticing.’ Plumeria whispered in prurient excitement. ‘When they choose to restrain themselves, for a cause, or for honor, the conflict within opens their souls more fully.’ She wriggled on her branch, while the two kids made out like they were trying to eat each other’s faces. ‘So deliciously naughty! I can hardly believe neither of them surrendered to their fleshly desires!’
#
Angie crept out of the bath first, skulking away to the room upstairs, where Becky and the kids were sleeping still. How she knew that for a certainty was a little troubling… Just as she could feel Rolf, slipping out of the private bath, a few discreet minutes later. Even without actually seeing, she knew he was blushing that ruddy, molten bronze that made her bones feel like jelly.
She met no one on her sly journey back to bed, she slipped into the covers with Becky and the little ones without disturbing them, falling into blissful, untroubled sleep.
#
Rolf slipped back into the bath for a little while, after Angie slipped away with a final, sweet kiss. He didn’t need to stay submerged long. A few large bubbles of steam escaped from below the waterline, just moments after he entered the pool.
“That was a close one!” Someone said from just out of sight. “You humans are so shy about your procreative drives and desires.” Plumeria jumped down from her hiding place among the cherry blossoms with a smile of unalloyed delight.
“Lady plumeria… it is quite disrespectful to observe others in secret.” Rolf said bravely, even as he withered in shame, on the inside.
“Pish tush young man. My kind have watched over yours for countless generations of your species. You have nothing that we haven’t seen a thousand times before.” She scolded gently, as though he were in the wrong here.
“We?” He demanded.
“Well, yes… I am the plum grove… but you decided to get so deliciously frisky beneath a cherry tree. I simply could not enjoy the show without inviting sister Cherry as well.” A large, pale pink stick insect skittered onto the purple robed dryad’s shoulder, bobbing and swaying there silently.
“She cannot take human guise nor speak human tongues at the moment… Certain conditions must be met and the master of the house must give permission, before she can manifest here as I do. She is just as enamored of you two as I, be certain of that!”
“Very flattering, I’m sure…” Rolf answered drily, as he regained his composure slowly.
“You misapprehend, as most mortals do. We care nothing for the fleshy bits you humans like to smush against each other beneath our spreading boughs… it is the joyous energy of your copulation… or near copulation in your case…” She giggled foolishly at his expense, refreshing his ire. “I’m sorry… that was not a slight nor a jest at you sweet creatures. Quite the opposite…”
“Tell me what you mean, lady dryad, speak plainly please, since you have seen fit to… insert yourself in my… affairs.” He sighed as he realized just how many filthy innuendos he had left hanging out there.
“Conflict, boy. The conflict inside you… and her, that is what draws our attention, as moths must answer the call of a lantern in the night.” She whispered, drawing close and sitting down on the edge of the pool beside him. Her tiny hand reached out to stroke his hair in a motherly, protective gesture.
“You humans tear at your own souls, as you struggle with your animal natures and higher beings. The energy that conflict produces is the source of your special status among the dryads.” She snuggled closer and let her stick insect friend crawl over to perch on his other shoulder.
“Many species have developed sentience beneath our leaves. Mammals, insectae, avians, even nematodes have developed minds and self awareness in our shade. Only man is so wonderfully in conflict with himself, your dual nature resonates with ours… and is the source of your wonderful dreams, stories, songs and art.”
Her pink insect companion bounced in excitement, as if agreeing with her absurd claims. “So that is why you peeped in on a private moment?” He demanded, with a little heat in his voice. “And why you abuse me, even now?”
“Abuse you, my sweet? No, we come to thank you. Though, to be fair, Cherry had little choice in the matter, since you decided to almost consummate your passion, directly beneath her.”
The elegant woman in purple winked at him and giggled, somehow cooling his fury… perhaps it was the way she was stroking his hair, like mother did when he was small.
“So she really is the cherry tree?” He asked softly, as his native curiosity reared its head.
“In many ways, yes. Just as I am every plum tree on this world… and so many others. Our multifarious nature leaves us diffuse and only slightly aware of any one single tree or grove. Something or someone… some ones, must grab our attention before we can focus and truly experience the mortal planes. A death, a birth, many events can draw our gaze, but what you two children got up to…” She sighed in pure delight. “That little tree is very special, young man. We hope to see you two beneath her boughs again… soon.”
#
Becky shooed the kids downstairs and into Shai’s care, before coming back up to cuddle with Angie, who had yet to stir. It was a good while before she woke, to find Becky, quietly reading in bed beside her.
“Sooooo…” Becky muttered with devilish glee. “How do you feel?”
“I feel like I want more than a fumble in the dark, Becky. I want it all, damn the rules!” She growled softly. “He never even tried anything, I almost took what I thought I wanted… I nearly ruined everything!” She sobbed, clutching her sister close.
“I know sweetie… I know.” She petted the girl’s long dark hair and rocked her in her arms for a while. “We wouldn’t let you settle for anything less. That boy is yours, no matter what anyone says.”
“We?” She sniffled. “You act as though the whole world would not be against us…”
“The whole world…” Becky sighed. “You’ve seen the world from above, how tiny it really is… how tiny we are in relation to that vastness…” She sat up, set her book down firmly and took her sister by the shoulders.
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“You are an Adventurer, my sister and a friend of gods, spirits and the most unpredictable, magical lunatic to ever walk the soil of a mortal plane. Fuck the rest of the world…” Beky kissed her on the forehead and pulled the girl into a surprisingly bone crushing hug.
“I’m glad you didn’t rape Rolf, that would have complicated the whole plan… As well as being morally repugnant.”
“Plan?” She squeaked as her sister crushed her close.
#
“...replaced with a pumpkin?!” Duke Leopold almost shouted, in a way that almost rattled the door to his private conference room. “You are telling me…” He took a slow, deep breath. “...are you telling me that lord Shaheen’s skull is missing, stolen… and a squash was left as a substitute?”
“In essence, my lord… though…” Sir Bamford paused, he was an old man, nearing retirement. Guarding the lower levels below the temple of order was a safe, calming job for a knight whose nerve had been shaken by too many sights that should not be seen. The man looked like he had before being reassigned to watch over the rarely used morgue, twitchy, uncomfortable and skittish.
“The squash, my lord…. It has been carved? Sculpted? grown? I know not, into the image of lord Shaheeen’s very face… I know not how… my lord.”
“The pumpkin head looks like lord Shaheens own face…” Duke Belen repeated slowly, to be certain.
“The very image, my lord… uncannily so.”
“Take some time off sirrah… go fishing, plant a garden, I do not want to see you in uniform for a month. Gods, man, you look fit to faint away…” Even as the duke was speaking, sir Bamford flashed pale and collapsed into a heap on the rug. “I told you to take a seat… Obstinate.. Old…” Leopld grumbled and complained, while he stretched the man out into a less crumpled position.
“Mistress Shenko… I need a spill mopped up in here…” He called sweetly to the closed door, knowing she would have her ear pressed firmly to the panel.
Ten minutes later, Duke Belen, Celeste Belen and sir Thelonius Dunham were all marching to the temple of Order, startling casual morning shoppers on the high street.
In the temple’s depths, everything was just as it should be, behind secure gates and a checkpoint of sensible squires at the door to the cellars... two locked doors later and through Sir Bamford’s rather nicely appointed underground office, the morgue was locked up tight.
Inside, the slain lord’s body, missing his head, hideously battered and bruised all over, was under a clean white drape, with a large lump between his feet. Leopold twitched back the sheet and stared, dumbfounded.
A large pumpkin sat there, bearing the unmistakable likeness of the man on the slab. It wasn’t carved in or painted on, the squash simply seemed to have grown the man’s face, locked in an expression of confused terror.
“How remarkable.” Tony muttered.
“A man’s severed head, severed by parties unknown, has been stolen from a locked morgue beneath the temple of Order and replaced with a vegetable simulacrum of unknown origin and mysterious craft… you find that remarkable?” Celeste asked calmly, though her eyes were wide and spooked. “The eyes seem to follow me…”
“I’m afraid we haven’t seen the last odd and mortifying occurrence, my love…” Leo murmured, as he covered the ghastly orange thing.
“Why can’t we have normal problems like the other dukes and duchesses?” She moaned. “Maybe Rolf will bring back some wildly inappropriate girl and give me something sane to fret over…” She said hopefully.
“Not much chance of that, my dear. That boy is my biggest worry.” Leo sighed.
#
Gossip flew around the guild halls and craft houses on flitting wings of scandal. Wild, unsupported tales composed of supposition, half truth and speculation were largely ignored. Yet the whispers continued: Telemain Shaheen, Heir to house Shaheen had been murdered by Gary, the mad orphan, or perhaps by journeyman Shai of the smith’s guild… Was it a duel of honor over some slight to the noble house?
Certainly the madman must have made some advance to a female relative of lord Shaheen… to which wise listeners would remark that Shai would have been the killer and Gary the headless victim.
A few scandalmongers even claimed that the lord’s head had been spirited away for some dark purpose…with some hideous substitute left in its place. That was madness of course.
With Otho absent, the cult of Joy was unable to clear up the confusion… or, more likely increase it. When subtle whispers arose, hinting that lord Fargnahagn was embroiled in some trouble it did not take long for savvy townsfolk to notice that his brother, Otto Fargnahagn, Mayor of Wheatford had vanished entirely from the town.
More remarkably, the mayor had vanished with his wife, leaving all his worldly goods behind; even the majority of their clothing. The door stood open when the maid arrived in the morning; she searched carefully before summoning the town guards, but no sign of disturbance could be found. The hearths were all cold and the beds unrumpled by any sleeper, they were simply gone.
Tony closed the door to the mayor’s house and took a deep breath. Fargnie was going to be having a rough time, so was he.
“Adelaide… the man has been a good friend and is a good man, whatever has befallen him… I’m not asking you to adopt him, he will simply be staying for a few weeks.” His wife’s frosty glare struck harder than most foes he had faced in his career. He rubbed at the three wide claw marks running over his face and sighed.
“Don’t try and tempt me with your sexy scars… I never liked Farty, or his wretched brother. Now you want him under my roof?” She demanded. “Your mad friend runs an inn, send him to stay there!”
Tony winced and rubbed his scar harder, it always itched when Addie yelled at him. It had been itching a lot lately. “He has… not endeared himself with those children. They will be unwilling to shelter him.”
“So it falls to me? I’ll not be a middle aged lord’s mommy ere I have a child of my own to tend, You mark me well Theloinus Dunham! I’ll Nae be yer vagabond friend’s housemai…” Tony knew the jig was up when her accent slipped loose on him. He braced for a tempest and instead received a chilling calm.
“Tony.” She said, with her dialect tightly controlled. “Lord Fargnahagn may stay in my home and I will do my duty as his hostess… If he insults or abuses any member of this household, I will hold you responsible.”
“Perhaps Gary and Shai would take him in after all…” Tony muttered nervously, as he backed away.
“No. You asked this of your wife… Now it is too late to back out… Husband.” Tony felt an unseen collar snap around his neck with an almost audible click.
“I've stepped in it now… haven’t I?” He asked softly.
“Yes dear husband, you’ve stepped in it and sunk to your nose… best you keep your eyes open and your lips closed.” She answered sweetly. “When will our guest arrive?”
#
In the guild of weavers and spinners, on the top floor, long disused, now leased to Aranea’s Secret, purveyors of pervy panties, the tales and gossip received little attention… They were focused on their crafts and arts.
Lace, bows, velvet cord and satin ribbon all flowed through the long open chamber, to the sound of the ‘sewing machines’ that were their secret weapon in the sexy battle for the peoples hearts and loins. Jennah strode up the line with a yardstick tucked under her arm, reviewing her troops with satisfaction…
The minor houses were already leaving after the wedding and celebrations… all the upheaval just accelerated the process. She had a lot of rush orders to fill before noble ladies and their even more critical ladies maids left town.
‘A panty in hand is worth a whole negligee lost in delivery.’ She thought… ‘No, that’s awful. Slogans are hard!’
In the back corner, she coughed softly, breaking up a cluster of girls all silently watching, as one of master smith Harlan’s giant ginger boys worked on Mary’s machine. He had his head in the works, lying on his back in utter focus and concentration.
The soft clack and clatter of his tools were the only sounds as a half dozen girls stood watching the show. He was so intent on his work, he hadn’t noticed that the waist of his trews had crept down and his shirt come slightly loosened, baring a smooth expanse of pale, flat, muscular tummy and a very distracting bit of convoluted terrain nearer his hips.
Even Jennah had to smile at the lines of the lad, he would be a delight in a few short years… “He’s fourteen you thirsty wantons, get back to work.” She whispered.
Most of the girls blushed, giggled into their palms and slipped away. Not Tabby, she remained with a sly smile on her apple red cheeks. “I’m fourteen too.” She said with a grin.
“And also a thirsty wanton! Scat!” Jennah said with a smile. “I’ll have Shai introduce you… which one is this?”
“Who cares?” Tabby asked, blue eyes sparkling. “They're twins!”
#
Gary and Shai staggered upstairs and collapsed into the bath for a little while, bleary eyed and exhausted. After a bit, Gary rolled out and sprawled naked in the sun, letting it fill in and darken his weak, sloppy shadow.
“I’ll be checking on the bairns… dinnae stir, ye look awful.” Shai muttered, not daring to glance into the mirror cabinet at her own face.
Angie and Rolf were canoodling on the couch, with a tea service sitting cold in front of them, lost in each other for the foreseeable. Dannyl had the kids in the stables, teaching them the fine art of drawing horsies with Petunia and Annie modeling. Wilf was napping in the hay pile, naked, of course.
“Dannyl… kin ye nae keep him at least in his pants?” She asked.
Dannyl groaned and glared at Amy and Rio. “Thanks for the help… traitors!” He knuckled their scalps fondly for a moment, before looking for the lost pants.
Shai was satisfied that everything seemed ok, but she opened her senses more fully to the sprawling home, garden and wide area of general influence surrounding her inn. Gary’s vampire bat friend was notoriously tough to pin down, but she got a fix on everyone she expected to find. Nara was still away on her mysterious business, no one less stealthy could hide in the house, when she really looked.
In the bath, hiding in the cherry tree, was a familiar, unfamiliar presence. Plumeria was there, as was another being very similar to her… another dryad. She headed that way, to see about her unexpected guest.
#
“So ye an Cherry here did snoop an spy on me two young guests in their tender, private moments… in violation of guestlaw.” Shai said flatly.
“When you say it that way…” Plumeria stammered. “They were under Cherry’s branches…”
“Aye, and when were Cherry invited intae me home? I dinnae begrudge yer presence, but tae violate me hospitality… tis ill done, both of ye.” Shai said firmly to the two ancient beings. “Ye must apologize tae them an confess yer deed. Twill then be their choice tae go further.”
“Oh, the boy knows… we spoke a bit.” Plumeria admitted. “He was rather upset, I’m afraid…”
“Aye, he would be an should be. Tis nae some dalliance in an orchard, where any might stumble upon them.. tis in a place of safety an privacy, under me own aegis an hospitality.” Her stern glare sent the two ancients skulking out into the common room, to apologize.
A few tense, uncomfortable minutes later, the two dryads were reconsidering their position on observing humans… It simply wasn’t worth the drama.
“Rolf and I have been discussing your actions, ladies.” Angie said frostily. “We will accept a cutting from each of you and a solemn promise not to peep on us again in recompense. Liam’s ‘bonsai’ art is intriguing and frankly, we adore you, even if you are a naughty peeper.”
She tousled Plumeria’s immortal head in an intolerable manner, whilst Rolf chucked lady Cherry under her insectile chin and cooed at her… Cooed!
“This is Gary’s influence… you have no respect for… oh is that sugar wasp mead?” Poor Plumeria’s tirade ran out of gas when a tiny cup was placed before her. Cherry had been silent throughout, since no one but the Wards would be able to hear her. A cup placed before her drained quickly as well…
#
“Hey, who’s this dryad sleeping on my sofa?” Gary asked, when he finally reappeared.
“That’s Cherry, Plumeria’s friend. She wants a puppet too, there’s an abandoned cherry grove a few miles outside town… you can go harvest some this week.” Becky said with a cheeky grin she knew he couldn’t say no to.
“I still have a butt ton of repairs to do, two prosthetic hands, Willow’s puppet, modifications to Esperanza and Bounty… I’m drowning here!” Gary did look haggard and tired.
“Shut up, you love it. Besides, you can whistle up some orphans… we’ve got carpenters, cartwrights, smiths and tailors. All new apprentices, but you can work with that, right?” She grinned again, knowing she had him. “Full playlist autonomy, Gary.”
The only thing Gary liked more than working in his shop alone; was working in a crowded, bustling shop… with some ‘bumptuous tunes’ playing. The promise of a craft hall ringing to ‘something that slapps’ was all it took.
#