Agazuul stood in his chamber, paralyzed. The room was of hard cold worked stone, hewn out of the stalactite. Agazuul’s decision was weighing hard on him. The passage of time had eluded him as he had sunken deep into thought again and again. Were they the right people, were those left worth the sacrifice of them. It had kept him in a perpetual loop, he kept thinking of what led him here.

“Again!” Ludwig shouted, the warmth having fled his voice. The room around him was an open hall with a balustrade full of onlookers. They seemed to watch Agazuul with great interest. Among them stood a sour faced elf of aquiline features and cheeks smooth as a baby’s bottom.

“I…I can’t…I’m…close to…” Agazuul wasn’t able to finish his sentence, his skin cracked with flame eager to push out excess heat. A deep wound across his arm following a river beneath skin.

“You can! If you cannot even do this you’ll die on your first quest!” Ludwig shouted, the words not unkindly. Agazuul focused, the blood drawn out of the wound on his command, forming a rippling pool in front of him.

“Good you’ve almost got it this time, now the hard part. Focus on a point you can see while holding in your thoughts the pool you just made.” Ludwig said, the warmth returning with a verifiable sense of pride. Agazuul focused and out of his wound came more blood, drawing into the rippling pool forming on a pillar above on the balustrade.

“Good, now just hold it for three seconds and take the plunge!” Ludwig shouted, quickly conjuring the same magic Agazuul had all that trouble with.

“Come up to me!” Ludwig shouted standing at the balustrades. Agazuul’s vision had gotten blurry and he was missing key moments. Either his vision or his brain had betrayed him, removing the memory or failing to capture the moment wherein Ludwig had conjured the puddle and taken the plunge. Agazuul tensed as he tried to take the plunge. He could hear stone cracking followed by screams as his vision went black.

Although his eyes of flame could see in the dark there was little need for it, the room was covered in bioluminescent mushrooms. It had washed the object of his current paralyzation in shades of blue and pink. Qilynrae Qintoris stood there in his room, mere minutes after he’d made it there. Or had it been hours. Qilynrae demanded his attention, she stood in front of him, her clothes having dropped to the ground. His mind kept wandering back to that day but she didn’t let that wandering take hold. Her hand guided one of his to a breast. Agazuul hadn’t felt anything like this before. His body grew dangerously hot and yet she did not even flinch. Qilynrae drew her body into his; cupping his chin with a hand and planted a kiss. It was a simple kiss at first, drawing away her lips slowly leaving the memory of their suppleness. He looked at her as she ended the embrace to stand back for a moment. His eyes fell on her breasts, perky with areolas that were so similar in coloration they almost blended back in her nipples were hard whether by cold or by excitement wasn’t something Agazuul was able to tell. Her neck was the only part of her that still held some sort of garment, a burgundy lace choker. He could see what the rest of the body was like and yet did not dare to take it in. She saw his apprehension and took him by the arm closer to a mushroom glowing pink. She took his left cheek in her hand and guided his face down as she took a step backwards. Below the breasts her body was marred with scars.

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“I died.” Those were the first words Qilynrae had said since she entered. Agazuul could not even tell how long she had stood there watching him before taking action. Those were words that cut deep, two simple words that demanded a thousand questions and yet made it difficult to even ask one. Agazuul felt embarrassed, guilty for not looking earlier. Those two words contained all the information he needed. I died. His mind kept repeating those words as he gazed at every part of her body. A deep gash ran from just below her right breast to her hip, the skin around it burned tissue. There were dozens of small scars that ran their way across her legs, arms and back–wounds taken from blows undeflected. Agazuul felt unsure of how to progress

“They’re only scars.” She drew him in closer and put his left hand on her hip.

“In my rebirth I was remade, perfect and stronger than before.” Agazuul felt perplexed and it showed. As it became clear she had seen that look on his face, he felt an immense sense of guilt.

“Scars are reminders, they’re storytellers when we’ve lost our words.” Qilynrae looked upon Agazuul once more, looking to find understanding in his eyes. He gazed at her for a long moment, drinking in her body, his hand left at her hip trailed across it feeling the slight bump of some of her scars. Agazuul crouched down low, kissing the scars he found on her upper leg. She pushed him away gently and made her way to the bed sitting atop it, her legs hanging just above the ground. He made his way to her, starting low he kissed every scar crafting a slow, passionate path to her vulva. She opened her legs slowly at his approach, guiding his head gently at first. As he had made his way to his intended destination, she could feel his hesitation. She grabbed onto his hair with one hand while opening her lips with the other. In the throes of passion they needed no words, the hand resting on his head guiding him through a process entirely new to Agazuul. The hand gripped more strongly when it became more pleasurable, pushed his head into the soft wetness when closer to a wave of ecstatic elation. She gyrated her hips not only to increase her own pleasure, but to make clear that he should increase his speed. Her journey to climax was one made ebb and flow, each wave reaching higher.

His face was wet with her as he came up, her climax became his jubilation. His face met hers on the bed as he leaned into her. Their tongues shared her wetness and she guided his cock inside her. He grunted his pleasure, but he was already quite weary from the previous effort. She saw and after a short while on the edge of the bed, she pushed him off and crawled further onto the bed, beckoning him to come. She pushed him down as he made his way to her, and climbed on top. Agazuul had no time for trailing thoughts then and did not as she wore him out. His dreams were not so kind.