There was an odd tension between them since Selene's outburst, but it couldn't be helped. It wasn't awkward, just an awareness of Selene's potential to lash out. A Demon's horn takes the first initial burst of healing to take effect, which is why she was in such a weakened state for so long. It's quite a vulnerable trait, something they don't usually expose.
Poca sat before her, it had been several nights later. Selene's arm was moving as if she had always had it at this point. Poca was going over a book, some kind of tome of healing. It was impressive. Selene was never one to take in knowledge in literature form. It was always through... experience. Poca was book smart, but Selene had learned she was not very street smart. That's what made Poca's innocent blunt demeanor so cute. She simply asked or told her how she felt about something.
Selene sat, still dirty from the day's work in the garden. All of it was different herbs, roots, fruits, or veggies, yes, but all for some base or other relating to healing. This woman... she was a genius, but she was... odd. Selene, after healing enough to feel her horn out, found the damage could have caused more harm, but it was close. Her void essence was still there, and she'd be able to summon full potential within the month, maybe even weeks. Days if she stayed longer with Poca, but she knew her time was coming to an end. Her health was making a recovery like it was.
She had told a lot to Poca about Demons, as she felt it was a debt to her. She had told her about the war on the church, the demons being hunted. At the moment, Poca was adding notes to her books about Demons, saying if she could ever help another, she promised she would. Other notable conversations went around Demons being the children from the god of vengeance, Morthos. After Morthos was killed, the demons were freed and sought to right the wrongs of their ancestors and have paid their sins twice fold now. Yet, some believe it shall never be forgiven. This led to the conversation about the demon war, which everyone knows about in the history books. The war was because after they were freed from their god, they were enslaved by mankind, and in later generations, they finally wanted freedom and peace, but peace was bloodshed, as it always was.
The small cottage was cozy, filled with the scent of herbs and the sound of crackling firewood. Poca's thick French accent broke the silence as she read aloud from her tome, occasionally glancing up at Selene to ensure she was following along. "Zis passage 'ere, it talks about ze regeneration of magical limbs. Fascinant, non?"
Selene nodded, though her mind was elsewhere. She had been thinking about the stories she had shared with Poca, about the demons' past and their struggles. It felt strange to open up to someone about such painful memories, but Poca's genuine curiosity and kindness made it easier.
"I never thought I'd be telling anyone about the war," Selene said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's... not something I like to remember."
Poca looked up from her book, her eyes filled with sympathy. "I understand, ma chère. But sharing zis knowledge, it helps me understand you better. And who knows, maybe it can help ozers in ze future."
Selene gave a small smile. "You're always thinking about others, aren't you?"
Poca chuckled. "It is in my nature, I suppose. But you, Selene, you 'ave been through so much. You deserve peace."
Selene looked down at her prosthetic arm, flexing the fingers. It felt almost natural now, a part of her. "This arm... it means a lot to me. Thank you, Poca."
Poca waved her hand dismissively. "Ah, it was nothing. Just a little bit of magic and ingenuity. You 'ave the strength, Selene. Zat is what makes it work."
As the nights passed, the two women spent their evenings by the fire, talking about their pasts and dreams. Selene found herself opening up more and more, sharing stories of her life as a demon, the hardships she faced, and the fleeting moments of joy she cherished.
Poca listened intently, her quill scratching against parchment as she took notes. "Ze demons, zey were enslaved by mankind after Morthos was killed, oui?"
"Yes," Selene confirmed. "After we were freed from his control, humans saw us as a threat. They used us, feared us, and when we finally fought back for our freedom, it led to the war."
Poca frowned. "It is a tragic history. But you, and ozers like you, you 'ave paid your dues. You deserve to live in peace."
"Not everyone thinks that way," Selene said bitterly. "Some people will never forgive us for what we were forced to do."
Poca reached across the table, placing a hand on Selene's. "Zen we will show zem. We will show zem zat demons can be more zan what zey fear. You 'ave already shown me zat."
Selene felt a warmth in her chest at Poca's words. It was a rare feeling, one she hadn't experienced in a long time. "Thank you, Poca. Your belief means more than you know."
Yet the next night, sitting in the garden, Selene sensed an unspoken tension between herself and Poca. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that heralds an inevitable change. Poca finally broke the silence, her voice carrying a mixture of excitement and resolve. "Selene, I 'ave been thinking. I need to make a trip into ze city. Zere are supplies I need zat I cannot grow 'ere."
Selene nodded slowly, already knowing what this meant. This was a good chance for her to go back, but also likely the last time she and Poca would be together. Both of them knew this moment was coming. For some reason, Selene had grown to... dare she admit it, like this odd woman? Poca had shown genuine interest in Selene, not for her abilities or her connections, and she didn't seem to fear her either. Selene felt awkward, a strange, unsettling feeling she wasn’t used to.
Why was she feeling awkward about this? She glanced at Poca, who was now planting a CinderStar, a spicy ground fruit that Selene particularly loved. She still wore that odd nature dress, while Poca remained naked, comfortable in her own skin.
Selene sighed. She knew this wouldn't work. If she returned to the city like this, she would be recognized immediately as the Demon of the Slums. Yet, she realized she was using it as an excuse. An excuse to stay longer.
Clearing her throat, Selene spoke up, "I'll stay and tend to the garden while you're gone. But I'll need some clothes, something more concealing." She hesitated. "If you can."
Poca looked up, genuinely surprised, then nodded. "Zat is easy to get, ma chère."
"I'll work to pay off whatever the cost is," Selene added quickly.
Poca simply smiled. "It is fine. Tending ze garden while I am gone will cover ze cost."
They continued working in the garden for a few more hours. Sweat built up on Selene's brow as she pulled weeds from a section of roots that Poca mostly sold and didn't use herself. Poca had wandered off to get ready for her trip into Valarian. Exhausted, Selene fell back onto her butt under the hot sun.
She was just catching her breath when she heard Poca call to her. Turning, Selene saw Poca walking up to her. She wasn't surprised by what she saw; if anything, she was captivated.
Poca's light blue skin glistened in the sunlight, her stitchwork smile stretching from ear to ear. Blue ribbons adorned her thighs, calves, and inner wrists, tied with elegant little bows. She wore what looked like a potato sack that reached mid-thigh, her blue stitchwork and ribbons half-visible. Barefoot, her feet and lower calves were a darker shade of blue, matching her hands and lower forearms—the staining of someone who worked in her garden every day. Her black hair was tied up in a low bun at the back of her neck, and she wore a matching wide-brimmed hat that gave her an oddly beautiful, almost ethereal scarecrow look.
Poca approached, her smile warm. "Merci, Selene, for staying behind. I will return in a couple of days."
Selene's eyes drifted to the cart Poca had loaded for her trip. It was filled with a variety of goods from the garden, ready to be sold or traded. The cart was being pulled by an ox, but what made Selene shiver was the figure in the driver's seat.
There, sat Carter. He was simply a body carved out of wood, with two hollow eyes and a smile carved much too large for his face. One of Poca's puppets, Carter was a warrior class, basically Jade Tier, equipped with a hand axe hanging from his side and a shield strapped to his back. He was there to protect Poca. Selene avoided him at all costs; that creepy smile was unnerving. Poca, however, found it endearing.
Poca noticed Selene's discomfort and chuckled. "Ah, do not worry about Carter. 'E is just a puppet, but 'e will keep me safe."
Selene shook her head, trying to dispel the unease. "It's not that. It's just... that smile. It's creepy."
Poca laughed softly. "I find it charming. Besides, 'e is very reliable."
They chatted a bit more, the conversation light but tinged with the knowledge of their impending separation. Finally, Poca hopped up into the cart with Carter. She turned to Selene, giving her one last smile. "Take care of ze garden, Selene. I will be back soon."
Selene nodded, watching as Poca took the reins. The cart creaked forward, Carter's hollow eyes staring straight ahead. As they started down the road, Poca chatted away with Carter as if he were a living being, her voice carrying back to Selene.
"Why did you name him Carter?" Selene had once asked.
"Because 'e rides in ze cart," Poca had replied with a playful wink.
Shaking her head, Selene watched until the cart was out of sight. She felt a strange mix of emotions: relief, sadness, and an unsettling sense of loneliness. But there was also a spark of determination. This was an opportunity for her to return to the city, her arm and horn now stable enough for her to fight if needed.
With a deep breath, Selene turned back to the garden. There was still work to be done, and she intended to honor her promise to Poca. As she resumed pulling weeds, her thoughts drifted to the days ahead. Hopefully the next couple of days would go by smoothly, and Poca would return soon.
But something inside Selene told her that things were only going to get more complicated.
The next day, Selene found herself once more in the garden, her finger on her chin as she stared down at a small RazorHare. It was a bunny-like rodent, but its body was covered in quills that acted like miniature knives. It moved with the speed of a bullet, and though fortunately, it didn't eat meat, it had an appetite for the expensive roots and vegetables in the garden.
Selene didn't have her weapon and looked down at her dress—Dead Gods, she whispered to herself. She was covered with shallow cuts, and the dress, basically made of vines and leaves, was looking more like a pile of leaves somehow stuck to her than an actual dress. Her abilities didn't revolve around direct combat but stealth and precise strikes. Sure, it was basically a bunny, but this little fucker was high enough level not to fear her. For a beast, that had to be pretty fucking high.
Selene wasn’t in any real danger, but the crops were. Her frustration grew as she glanced at her bleeding shins and the tops of her feet, a result of attempting to kick the RazorHare barefoot. The little creature sat there, munching on a root, occasionally glancing up at her with what seemed like disdain.
"Godsdamned pest," Selene muttered. She had once mocked farmers who put out actual posts at the Adventurer's guild to handle these things. Now she understood their plight fully. Taking a deep breath, she stepped closer, trying to shoo it away.
The RazorHare glanced at her with its beady eyes, still chewing on the root. Selene’s patience snapped. She lunged at it, her arm outstretched. The RazorHare moved like lightning, darting to the side and raking its quills against her leg. Selene hissed in pain, but she didn't back down.
She tried again, this time swinging her prosthetic arm, but the RazorHare was too quick. It jumped, slashing at her arm with its quills. Selene winced, feeling the cuts but not deterred. She chased it around the garden, kicking at it and missing more often than not, each miss followed by another shallow cut from its quills.
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"Fucking rabbit!" she growled, kicking at it again. Her foot connected, but the impact was minimal, and the RazorHare retaliated by slashing her shin. Blood trickled down her leg, mixing with the dirt and sweat.
Her vision blurred with frustration. The RazorHare paused, sensing an opening. It charged at her, quills bristling. Selene barely dodged, feeling a quill scrape her side. Her breath came in ragged gasps. She couldn't keep this up. She needed to end it.
Summoning the last of her strength, she focused on her prosthetic arm. Poca had told her that it might be able to do more than simply be an arm, and with her demonic void, maybe there was more she could do. Selene could feel her horn pulsating, but she couldn’t quite control her powers.
She concentrated, focusing on the void within her. Maybe, just maybe she could focus it and channel it through her arm.
It was enough, and she sent a punch right at the little thing.
And she missed.
But it worked.
The air shimmered, and her fist seemed to disappear for a fraction of a second. The next moment, the RazorHare was thrown back as if struck by an invisible force. It squealed in pain, struggling to its feet. For a moment, Selene thought it might attack again, but the beast seemed to reconsider. It turned and bolted, disappearing into the underbrush.
Selene stood there, breathing heavily, triumphant but exhausted. She raised her arm in victory, feeling a sense of pride. Just as she did, the rags that were her dress finally gave way and fell off her body. She stood naked under the sun, looking down at herself. For a moment, she felt exposed and vulnerable, but then a wave of nostalgia washed over her.
It felt good—the sun on her breasts, her stomach, places that hadn't seen the sun since she was a demonling. A smile crept onto her lips as she stretched her arms out, embracing the warmth. Despite the battle, despite the cuts and bruises, she felt alive.
As she cleaned up and tended to her wounds, she reflected on the fight. It wasn't just about protecting the crops. It was about proving to herself that she could handle whatever came her way. With a determined look, she resumed her work in the garden, ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.
But reality soon set in. She needed to find something to wear. Turning back to the cottage, she walked inside, her skin still tingling from the sun's touch. Selene made her way back into the cottage, still naked from her impromptu battle with the RazorHare. The interior was a chaotic assembly of puppet parts, wooden arms and legs, metal limbs, and other strange constructs. It was Poca’s organized hell, and though it seemed overwhelming at first, Selene had started to get the hang of it. She spent most of her time outside in nature, something she never really did before. Out here with Poca, she found a sense of peace that was foreign but welcomed. She hadn’t considered going back to the city for some time and realized she didn’t have a pressing reason to return.
It was nice out here. Real fucking nice.
Selene walked around the cottage, enjoying the freedom of being naked. Now that Poca wasn't here, she could understand why she did it. It wasn’t about flaunting herself; it was about the comfort and freedom it provided. Poca had never made her feel judged or uncomfortable about her own nakedness. She was just... Poca.
However, Selene’s own thoughts were less forgiving. She had urges, deep and pressing, that made her self-conscious about her body. In her heart, she loved the passion of a good lover, but they rarely found their way into her life consensually. She had her share of more-than-eager participants, but those experiences left her feeling more like an object than a person. Her arms crossed her chest in a moment of vulnerability, a familiar wave of self-consciousness washing over her.
She sighed, thinking about how gentle Poca had always been with her. There was no judgment, no ulterior motives—just genuine care. Selene leaned against the counter, waiting for some tea to cool. The RazorHare had ruined her afternoon, and as much as she enjoyed the freedom of being naked, it was far too distracting. She would need to satisfy some urges if she stayed like that for too long.
The cottage was filled with the remnants of Poca’s work, but there was a method to her madness. Selene wandered through the cluttered space, her eyes scanning for anything to wear. It became increasingly clear that Poca didn’t keep much clothing around. Most of what she had found so far were scraps and unfinished projects.
Selene moved from one room to another, her bare feet padding softly on the wooden floor. In the corner of one room, she spotted a pile of fabric and went over to it, hoping to find something suitable. She lifted a piece of cloth, only to realize it was another unfinished puppet. Frustration began to bubble up inside her.
“Of course,” she muttered to herself. “The one time I need clothes, and there’s nothing but puppet parts.”
She continued her search, opening drawers and cabinets. Each one revealed more of Poca’s eccentric collections—tools, trinkets, and more puppet parts. Selene shook her head, a wry smile forming on her lips. She had grown to appreciate Poca’s oddities, even if they sometimes drove her crazy.
In a final attempt, Selene made her way to Poca’s bedroom. The room was as chaotic as the rest of the cottage, but it had a certain charm to it. The bed was unmade, covered in a patchwork quilt that looked handmade. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, jars of herbs, and more of Poca’s creations. Selene walked over to the closet, opening the door with a sense of hope. Inside, she found a single garment—another one of Poca’s potato sack dresses. She pulled it out and held it up to her body, sighing.
“This will have to do,” she said, slipping it over her head.
The dress was loose and reached mid-thigh, covering her enough to feel decent. Selene turned and looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting the dress. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the wild strands.
As she left the bedroom, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing. The time she spent here with Poca had been some of the most peaceful days of her life. Yet, she knew she couldn’t stay forever. She had a life back in Valarian, and eventually, she would have to return to it.
Selene wandered back to the kitchen, the tea now cool enough to drink. She took a sip, savoring the warmth and the calming effect it had on her. Her mind drifted back to Poca, imagining her making her way to the city, chatting away with that creepy puppet, Carter.
“What a strange life,” Selene mused aloud. She found herself missing Poca’s presence already. The eccentric puppeteer had a way of making everything seem less daunting, even when surrounded by chaos. Dressed in the loose, oversized shirt she found in Poca’s chaotic cottage, Selene wandered through the cluttered space, sipping her tea. The cottage was a labyrinth of wonders and curiosities, each corner revealing something new. Healing tomes lined one shelf, their spines worn and pages filled with intricate diagrams and spells. Earth magic scrolls were piled on a table, alongside jars of potions in every color imaginable.
Curiosity got the better of her. She had avoided snooping out of respect for Poca's privacy, but the sheer volume of intriguing items made it difficult to resist. Selene wasn't prying, just looking at the obvious stuff. It was clear that Poca lived in a world of her own creation, surrounded by the tools of her trade and the remnants of her eccentric pursuits.
She moved a box aside and uncovered a chest she had been resting her feet on since she had arrived and been able to sit up. Her interest piqued, she decided to see what was inside. The chest was unassuming, its wooden surface worn and unadorned. Selene knelt down and lifted the lid, revealing a jumble of random items—a mismatched assortment of trinkets and curiosities.
But amid the clutter, something caught her eye. She pushed aside a few objects and uncovered a small glass box. Inside the box was an item so rare, so mythical, that Selene's breath caught in her throat. She stared down in disbelief.
In the glass box was a feather, but not just any feather. It was the Feather of the Thunderwolf, a relic of legend and myth. Everyone in the world knew about these items. They were the stuff of legends, spoken of in hushed tones and revered by all who knew their history.
Selene nearly fell back, her mind flooding with memories of her old life. She couldn't help but stare at the feather, its iridescent surface shimmering with an inner light. The Feather of the Thunderwolf was said to grant unparalleled speed and agility, and control over minor storms and lightning. It contained the essence of the Thunderwolf, a creature of incredible power and majesty.
The Thunderwolf itself was a mythical beast, a combination of the agility and ferocity of a wolf with the majesty and power of an eagle. It could soar through the skies and strike with lightning-fast precision, capable of summoning storms with its howl. To possess even a single feather from such a creature was to hold a piece of its power.
The feather was unlike anything Selene had ever seen. It was long and sleek, its surface shifting colors in the light—from deep blues and purples to electric greens and golds. Tiny sparks of electricity danced along its edges, giving it an otherworldly glow. The glass case was simple, almost crude in its construction, as if it were an afterthought.
Poca had this feather just sitting in a chest of random things, as if it were nothing special. Selene's mind raced with questions. How had Poca come to possess such a relic? Did she even know what she had? The thought that Poca might be unaware of the feather's significance seemed impossible, yet it was tucked away so casually among the clutter.
Selene reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as she touched the glass. The feather's energy seemed to pulse, a living thing contained within its delicate structure. She could feel the power emanating from it, a connection that resonated deep within her.
Memories of her old life surged forward—times when she had dreamed of finding such a relic, of the power it could bring, the freedom it could offer. But here, in Poca's cottage, surrounded by the simple chaos of a life lived outside the bounds of normalcy, the feather seemed almost out of place.
She couldn't tear her eyes away from it. The legends said that the Thunderwolf's feathers were nearly indestructible, capable of withstanding immense force and channeling the beast's lightning power. To hold such an item was to command respect and fear. Yet Poca, in her unassuming way, had it hidden among her possessions like a trinket.
Selene’s thoughts raced. What did this mean for her? For Poca? The feather was priceless, containing the essence of the Thunderwolf. It could change everything, and yet, it had been here all along, unnoticed by her until now.
As she stared down at the feather, Selene felt a shift within herself. The old life she had tried to leave behind was pulling at her, reminding her of the power and ambition she once craved. But there was also a new part of her, a part that had found peace and contentment in the simple life she had shared with Poca.
She was torn between the two worlds, each calling to her with its own promises and perils. The feather seemed to symbolize that choice, a bridge between her past and her present.
Selene's fingers hovered over the glass box, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. She knew she couldn't ignore this discovery. It was too important, too significant to leave unexamined. But what did it mean for her future? For her relationship with Poca?
* * *
Poca sat in the driver's seat of the cart, chatting animatedly with Carter, who stared forward with that fixed, unnerving smile. The countryside rolled by as she spoke, the ox plodding along the familiar path back to her cottage.
"You know, Carter," she began, her French accent lilting. "Zis trip into Valarian was quite ze adventure. I met zis sweet young man, very handsome. 'E wanted to take me out to dinner, can you believe zat?" She laughed, her voice full of warmth. "But I didn't 'ave ze time. Too much to do. Still, it was flattering, non?"
Carter, as always, didn't reply. His wooden face remained unmoved, eyes hollow, and smile carved too large for his face. Poca glanced at him, her own smile never wavering.
"And ze seeds, oh, I got plenty! We will 'ave ze most beautiful garden zis season. So many new varieties to try." She paused, looking thoughtful. "But you know, I 'ave been thinking a lot about Selene."
Poca's expression softened as she spoke. "I don't know 'ow to feel about 'er, Carter. Not in a bad way, no, just... different. I zink she might want to stay longer. Zat she might like it 'ere." She sighed, tilting her head as if expecting an answer. "What do you zink, Carter?"
Silence. Carter's steadfast smile didn't falter. Poca chuckled, shaking her head. "You are so quiet, mon ami. Always listening, never speaking. Sometimes I wonder if you 'ear me at all."
The cart continued its journey, the sun beginning to set behind them. Poca kept talking, filling the air with her thoughts and musings. "You know, zis life we 'ave, it's not for everyone. But Selene... she seems different. Strong, but vulnerable too. Maybe she just needs a place to feel safe."
As they neared the cottage, Poca's excitement grew. "I wonder what Selene 'as been up to. I 'ope she 'asn't been too bored without me." She glanced at Carter again, smiling. "Do you zink she missed us?"
The cart pulled up in front of the cottage, and Poca hopped down, patting the ox affectionately before turning to Carter. "Stay 'ere, mon ami. I will be back soon."
She walked briskly to the cottage, pushing open the door with a flourish. "Selene? I'm 'ome!" she called out, her voice echoing through the cluttered space. She looked around, expecting to see Selene, but the cottage was quiet.
Poca wandered through the rooms, her eyes scanning the familiar chaos. Healing tomes, earth magic scrolls, jars of potions, and various puppet parts were strewn about, just as she had left them. She moved from room to room, her anticipation slowly turning to confusion.
"Selene?" she called again, but there was no answer.
She checked the kitchen, the bedroom, even the small workshop at the back of the cottage. No sign of Selene. Frowning, she made her way outside to the garden, hoping to find her there.
The garden was lush and vibrant, a testament to their hard work. Poca walked among the plants, looking for any sign of Selene. She checked the herb patches, the vegetable beds, even the little nook where they had shared so many conversations. But Selene was nowhere to be found.
"Maybe she 'as gone for a walk," Poca muttered to herself, shrugging. She returned to the cottage, her earlier excitement now tinged with worry.
As night fell, Poca's shoulders drooped. She sat on the porch, the light from inside casting a warm glow around her. Carter remained in the cart, his silent presence a comfort and a mystery.
Turning to him, Poca sighed. "Did I do something wrong, Carter? Did I scare 'er away?" Her voice was soft, filled with uncertainty. "I zought I 'ad a friend. Someone who understood."
Carter's wooden smile remained fixed, his hollow eyes staring ahead. Poca nodded as if he had spoken, her expression thoughtful.
"You are right, mon ami. Maybe she just needed to do right for 'erself. I 'ave to believe zat."
Poca smiled, albeit sadly, and shrugged. She stood up, her fingers moving to the simple knot that held her potato sack dress together. With a gentle tug, it fell from her frame, pooling at her feet. She stepped out of it, enjoying the freedom of being naked once more.
"Well, I am 'ome for ze night," she said, her voice lightening. "And probably a couple of weeks zis time around."
She stretched, feeling the cool night air against her skin. The worries of the day began to melt away, replaced by a sense of acceptance. Whatever had happened with Selene, she had to trust that it was for the best.
Poca turned to go back inside, casting one last glance at Carter. "Merci, Carter. You are always such good company."
With that, she disappeared into the cottage, leaving the night to its quiet. She moved through the familiar chaos with ease, her mind already drifting to the plans for the garden, the new seeds she had acquired, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, Selene would return.
For now, though, Poca embraced the solitude, her thoughts a mix of reflection and hope. She climbed into bed, pulling the quilt over her naked body, and closed her eyes. The night was peaceful, the only sound the gentle rustling of the wind outside. And in that quiet, Poca found a sense of calm, trusting that whatever came next, she would be ready.