A few hours later Willow told Francis it was time for bed. The Marine was pleasantly buzzed, but more than a little tired after duking it out with Hades.

He gave the High Priestess a thumbs up and followed her to the room. It had a decent sized bed with nightstands on either side of it. In the corner was a writing desk facing the window. The blue wooden shutters had been pulled shut and latched.

A crystal on a chain hanging from the ceiling illuminated the room with a soft orange glow. It reminded Francis of firelight.

He tossed his Bag Of Hoarding on the nightstand. Then Francis propped up Relativity in the corner and hung his hat from it. He felt weird about the staff watching him sleep.

He turned around to see Willow arranging her things on the nightstand next to the bed. “Oh! Shit. I didn't realize this was your room.”

“They just had one available, so I figured we would share. Besides, I feel safer sharing a room than being alone.” Willow proceeded to remove her jewelry. “I hope you don't mind.”

“That's fine.” Francis said as he looked around for an empty spot on the floor to lay down. She could take the bed. He would figure something else out.

Willow set a pair of black daggers on the nightstand and pulled her black robes over her head before Francis could look away. Her skin was creamy white along her front, with what might have been shimmering black and green scales along her back. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he caught a glimpse of a whip thin black tail with a barb on the end. Before he could get a better look, it vanished.

She turned around, revealing a series of tattoos along the sides of her stomach and the insides of her arms. They were made up of screaming skulls and swirling black fire. Peeking out from her black lace underwear was a stylized tattoo of curling rams horns made of interlocking runes.

The Death Cleric toyed with her piercings, distracting Francis from the knife attached to her left thigh. She did a little twirl. “Do you like what you see?”

“Yes Ma’am!” Francis replied enthusiastically and without hesitation. (Apparently he was from that part of Texas, after all.)

An hour or so later a very happy Francis realized something. He looked at the shuttered bedroom window and frowned. It was still light out.

He looked down at the Death Cleric wrapped around him. “There are plenty of other rooms, aren't there?”

“Yeah.” Willow replied. “But I meant what I said about not liking being alone. I feel safer staying with you. I know nobody is going to try to come visit me in the middle of the night with you here.”

She tapped the blade attached to her hip. “I can take care of myself. But I'd rather be able to relax.”

“I suppose that's alright then.” Francis stroked her back and enjoyed the moment of peace. The scales would take some getting used to. At least the whole front half of her was normal enough.

Willow looked up at him and smiled, her green eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Want to go again?”

***

Stolen story; please report.

The next morning when Francis woke up he had a message from System.

Willow Wisp wishes to form a romantic bond (you lucky bastard). This bond may be broken if you mistreat her or she wishes to leave.

Do you accept

YES/NO?

Francis accepted and a tattoo began to wrap itself around his left wrist. It had a pattern of skulls, flames, and rams horns guarding a black heart. “That's pretty fucking metal.” He said.

The Death Cleric leaned back as black ink etched itself along her collarbone. It had a heart in the center protected by wings made of bullets and roses. “It is, isn't it?” She asked.

“So what did we just do? Is it like getting married?” Francis asked. That was moving a bit quickly for him.

“No, it's one of the steps to getting married, but doesn't always lead there. It's more like announcing your intention to pursue a relationship. Don't get me wrong, you're a good guy and amazing in the sack. But I'm not ready to get married again, just yet.” Willow playfully bit him on the arm.

“Me neither.” Francis looked at his new tattoo. “What should I say if people notice? Or ask what our relationship is?”

“I'm going to tell people I'm bonded to you, and if they want more details than that, they can fuck off. My love life is none of their business.” She straddled Francis. “But make no mistake. You're mine now, god of monogamy.”

“Yes Ma'am!” Francis agreed, wondering what the hell he did to get so lucky.

***

As they were getting ready to leave Willow showed Francis how to use magic to clean himself and his clothes. The dirt sloughed off of him and formed a greasy ball, which she then incinerated.

His first thought was how handy that skill would have been when he was cleaning his rifle or shotgun. It even seemed to pull the dirt from his pores and remove dead skin.

“That is insane!” Francis said as he ran around the room cleaning things like a roomba. All he had to do was set the target and he could clean anything instantly for 10 MP per square meter.

“I'm glad you're having fun. Just be careful not to overdo it or you'll remove all your skin’s natural oils.” Willow laughed. It was amazing. Francis could fight with a god without blinking, but a simple cleaning spell made him giddy.

Once he was done getting distracted, Francis decided it was time to tell her his story. He explained what he did on Earth, and how he got here. From Willow’s reaction it was a fairly common occurrence. Apparently there were multiple dimensions feeding champions into this one.

Willow gave him the fuzzy puppet version of her many centuries long existence. She had always been a faun. When she died and came back she kept her XP. Generally she bounced around from death cult to death cult, occasionally got guilted into adventuring, and that was about it. (It wasn't, obviously. But a five hundred year old Death Cleric was expected to have a few skeletons in her past.)

Eventually they went to check on Chuck. The horse was perfectly happy with his accommodations. He told them he had gone out for a walk to stretch his legs around sunrise then returned to the stable. They fed him a few sweet pastries and fresh vegetables from the market.

“Oh, you two are the best. But don't give me too much. I can't help eating it, even though I know it's not good for me.” Chuck gave them the side eye (which was his default, because he was a horse). “So, you two are standing awfully close together and I spot some new tattoos.”

“Yeah, we're romantically bonded.” Francis replied.

“Called it!” Shouted another horse from a few stalls over. “Where's my money?”

“We didn't agree on a bet, McHorseface!” Chuck shouted back. “Sorry, Horsey gets a bit loud but he means well. His first owner was a portal jumper too.”

Francis put two and two together. “His first name is Horsey?” He asked, trying desperately not to laugh. It was rude to laugh.

“Yeah, why?” Chuck looked over at Willow for an explanation. “What's so funny about being named Horsey McHorseface?”