Dusk turned into night as Harriet and Ori spent hours wrapped up in each other's arms, kissing, cuddling, and talking. While Ori's body yearned for a deeper connection, nerves and the knowledge that neither of them was ready for more kept their clothes on. They discussed their childhoods, Harriet growing up as a princess with a loving, if erratic mother, and a father who was one of many consorts to the former Lunaesidhe Queen. Meanwhile, Ori described his world, surprising Harriet with how different his origins likely were from most of the humans she had read about. He steered the conversation away from his childhood and focused on how he had been working to turn his life around, his academic success and hopes for an engineering career.
"If I didn’t know any better, I would have guessed you to be a dwarf with your eye so fixated on commercial success as a marker for progress in your craft."
"Yeah, well, unlike you, we didn’t have the Library of Fates to chart how good we get, so we have to settle for money to keep score. Besides, not needing to care about money is only something those who have a lot of it can afford to do," Ori said, his tone teasing as he rubbed circles around her back.
"I suppose you’re right," she sighed.
"I still can’t believe this is real," Ori said, hugging her tight. "You know, my familiar had a lot to say about why you summoned me."
"I won’t lie, we Moon Elves have quite the reputation. Had it been my mother who summoned you, she would have had no scruples in adding you to her harem the moment she’d met you."
"Wow. That’s... yeah. I can’t say I’d be interested in being added to someone's collection," Ori mock-shuddered.
"Oh? You’d rather be the one collecting pretty little elven damsels wouldn’t you?" Harriet teased. "Don’t deny it, I can hear your heart racing at the thought, I saw your eyes widen and pupils dilate whenever I mentioned Poppy."
"I still don’t get how you’re okay with that. I freely admit having too many insecurities to even consider having things... the other way around. Aren’t you jealous?"
"It’s hard to explain for various reasons. Firstly, I’m a High Elf-"
"A fact you never cease to remind me of," Ori laughed.
"Rascal! Yes, we are different from humans, no, I mean it. I’ve read that for humans, initial attraction is usually a visual thing?" Harriet said, shaking off Ori’s mocking laughter.
"Yes, more or less. It’s different for everyone," Ori confirmed.
"Well, for us High-Elves," Harriet hammed up her voice to give an even snootier impression of herself. "Attraction of that kind is rare, but it is always instant, it comes not from our heart or mind, but our spirit, it’s like our soul sings. That you could love not only Poppy or myself, but the bonds you spend more time than you realise talking about, only adds to the reasons why I like you."
Ori’s brows furrowed in concern. "It kinda sounds like your diem… am I using the term right?"
"Yes," she nodded.
"It sounds like your diem could do no wrong, everything they did, you could love?"
"Firstly, it is not the same as love, secondly, we can reject such an attraction in the same way I’m sure humans could if we found their character, deeds or bloodlines unsuitable for whatever reason."
"For human men, you’d be surprised how little power our minds have over anything to do with women."
Harriet giggled knowingly, "Secondly, diems are mutual so that usually prevents the worst abuses one could inflict on another who loves you unconditionally."
"Alright. So aren’t you worried, about a one-sided thing? I mean, I’m not a High Elf, so maybe this diem or Taurna’deim thing won’t work?"
Harriet simply shrugged. "As often with the fae aspects of our existence, there is a circular nature to the way things work. In this instance, I don’t believe I could be in diem with someone who, in their own way, couldn’t return it. And even if it didn’t happen by itself, between my resources and your talents, I’m confident we could find a way." She said, nuzzling into his chest as they sat side by side. Ori pondered her words, while a shadow of trepidation loomed over their future, he shared Harriet’s desire and confidence in overcoming those challenges in the limited time they’d have together.
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Light filtered through the dusty workshop as Ori stared at a pile of Yewheart branches, a persistent, irrepressible smile stuck on his lips. Yes, he was excited to finally move on to more practical demonstrations of enchanting, and yes, his newfound productivity and ability to absorb knowledge like a sponge just by walking into a room was remarkable. But, if he were honest with himself, the real reason for his smile was last night.
Knowing women like Harriet or Poppy could like him in such a way left an indescribable glow within his core, making the day seem brighter and every other challenge less daunting. He shrugged off those thoughts as he focused on selecting from the pieces of Mana conductive wood.
His enchantment for today would be the simplest of wands, one with an enchantment to encourage mana flow and charges for a simple spell, something almost all wands had. It was the wand equivalent of enforcing the direction the artefact should be used in and required almost no skill at all in encoding. Beyond that, this was the first step towards repairing his wand and repairing, if not completely re-enchanting the artefact.
He had given himself just two weeks, or fourteen days, to repair his wand and end the trial. If it weren't for dream Freya's insistence that she'd survive, Ori would be strongly considering leaving the trial now, as his current duration within the nine trials totalled just under twelve days by his estimation.
A pang of sadness at the scale of suffering those infernal bastards were likely inflicting on people like him, or that banker, made him angry, but he pushed thoughts of revenge aside for more practical matters.
He selected the first stick and began whittling it, committing to the first stage of his enchantment. He carefully removed the bark and any knobbly bits, then smoothed out the edges and angles.
Although he had dozens of branches to choose from in case his enchantment failed or was incorrectly Quickened, Ori was eager to get it right on his first attempt.
"Okay, shaping done, time to Infuse," Ori said, applying a solvent to a sample of Yewheart-sap saturated in life and natural affinities. His mind was split between reading to verify each step and actually mixing the ingredients of the enchantment.
After waiting for what he believed was the recommended time for the sap to dissolve, Ori dipped his whittled branch into the tube and poured the solution to initiate the process. What was normally a sticky, viscous liquid turned into something easily absorbed by the wood, thankfully leaving no gooey or sticky residue behind when removed from the doping tube.
Ori continued through the steps, inscribing marks by first carving out furrows, then applying aetheric silver ink to ManaScribe permanent, arcane instructions onto the artefact. As refining wasn't required for items at journeyman rank or lower, and no refining process was listed for his Yewheart Wand template anyway, Ori proceeded straight to Quickening.
Just as he was about to corral the ambient mana in the room to begin the process, the door to the drafting room opened.
"Good luncheon, Ori. My goodness, you look happy. I wonder why?" Poppy laughed as she brought in a tray of food and refreshments. "Mistress couldn't see to lunch because someone caused her to reschedule so many events over the last two days. So you'll have to settle with just me for lunch today and possibly tomorrow."
"Just in time, watch as I finish up my very first enchantment," Ori said, his excitement overriding any reaction he might have otherwise had to Poppy’s news.
"Oh? Already?"
"Yeah, I've read most of the texts here back to front."
Poppy laughed. "Was it not only a day or so ago you were seeking arcane methods of 'hitting the books' faster? And now, here you are, a devourer of tomes."
"All thanks to you and Harriet’s help. Now, sit back and watch the maestro in action." Ori said, holding a branch of Yewheart in his hand as he swirled it around in the air, churning the ambient mana.
Almost all of the ambient, un-aspected mana available in the room funnelled into the wand for quickening, and with a deep thrum, the Yewheart appeared to crystallise as something beneath the surface changed.
"A Mortal Yewheart Channeling Wand of Life, thirty charges of Lesser Regeneration. That’s amazing, Ori, congratulations. Though you don’t look so happy? What’s wrong?" Poppy stood as she approached with growing concern.
"It’s nothing much, just… That needed a lot of mana," Ori said, his thoughts extrapolating the likely quantities for higher-ranked artefacts.
"Yes, enchantments require a lot of everything. That’s why fewer people than you’d expect pick up the craft. It’s an expensive hobby, and to make enough for it to be sustainable means becoming good enough so that your margins are large enough to cover expenses in a very price-competitive environment. Else, you’ll find yourself diving deep into wild Aether Rifts just to find the ingredients to practise."
"Really? I guess exploring Aether Rifts doesn’t sound so bad. While I don’t care much for killing, dealing with pests before they overrun towns while getting materials on the side doesn’t sound like the worst way to make a living."
Poppy shook her head in disgust. "Just wait till you visit an Aether-warped swamp, or deal with a rift in a desert or tundra."
"You’ve been to Aether Rifts? Wild ones?"
"I have too, Ori, and while it sounds glamorous on paper, the reality is anything but. But given your heroic nature and your likely future need for materials, you’ll be slogging through aether-warped, leech-infested swamps in no time flat," Poppy concluded as Ori inspected his creation.
"Well, here you go. When I’m the great and famous wand-crafting extraordinaire, you’ll be able to claim to have his very first invention," Ori said, as he handed over his first enchantment. Poppy just stared at it, her face a blank mask. "Did I say something wrong?"
"I can’t have this."
"Oh," Ori said, feeling like a fool. "Well, I’m sure I can eventually make a more suitable enchantment when I get better."
"No, it’s far too valuable a thing to give away. It’s your first enchantment; you must keep it. For many crafts, a person's first is normally preserved as it can act as a guidestone for inspiration in times of need," Poppy continued, her words gathering pace until she finished in a rush.
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"Right, well I still want you to have it."
"Why?"
"Because… You’ve been nice to me, and I like you, and I’d trust you to look after it if you think it’s so important," Ori smiled, practically shoving the wand into Poppy’s grasp. "I intend on making lots of stuff in the next few days, so before long, you’ll be finding ways to get rid of my junk, and that stick might not seem so valuable anymore."
"If you're sure," Poppy said, oddly solemn.
"I am. Also, Harriet said some of what I am, to both of you. This diem thing, and the Var’Drow kin bond," Ori continued, Poppy’s face turning bright red. "And, well. I’m ready to… well, I don’t know, maybe talk about it more? Or just hold hands if that’s all you want? Whatever you and Harriet are willing to offer, I’ll take."
"Ori," Poppy smiled, holding his first enchantment closer to her chest. "Fancy a trip to the night garden this evening?"
"Yes. Yes, I would," Ori agreed.
"We can… talk, I could also show you my craft as it would only be fair since you showed me yours after all," Poppy said, her voice no longer pretending to conceal her sultry undertones.
"Like I said," emboldened by her flirting and his general growing confidence. "Anything you're willing to offer, I’ll take; anything you're willing to show me, I’ll gladly see."
Poppy giggled, darted in for a kiss, and before Ori could wrap his hands around her, she was out of his reach and making her way to the door. "Until this evening then, Maestro."
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Ori lost himself in the magic of enchanting. Split Mind enabled him to have parts drift towards more distracting topics, which was just as well, as not only did it help delay exhaustion and maintain his current flow state, but Ori sincerely doubted he would have gotten any work done with both women constantly on his mind.
He had crafted five more wands, the first two identical to his first, his confidence in the process growing as he demonstrated his ability to replicate results.
With the last two attempts, his new arcane sight combined with polydexterity's slowed perception allowed him to more fully comprehend the interactions between the materials and the necessary steps in the enchantment. Before long, he could see markers for improved success or potential failure. If not for the limitations of using ambient mana which had to become unaspected or cycle through his room, Ori might have easily gone through dozens of attempts in the same time period.
Worse, almost all of the spells required a Mana Nexus to cast. Many of the most useful spells couldn’t be learnt without aid of the Library of Fates. The more these limitations stood out to him, the less certain he felt about fixing his wand in the short to medium term.
Despite the growing frustrations, Ori spent some time carving a ring that provided a small burst of life energy once a day. While it could cure any mortal wound, the chart within the crafting guide claimed that to the average Sovereign, the effect would be as good as a shot of Silverleaf tea, which Ori imagined was analogous to coffee in this world. After carving the enchantment and testing the ring, while it worked, Ori was dissatisfied with the roughly hewn, twisted loop of vine and set it aside.
Afterwards, Ori crafted a bangle for Poppy using similar techniques, though this time infusing the Yewheat vines with darkness and void-related affinities and inscribing enchantments that drew in ambient void-aspected mana, said to aid slightly in the comprehension of void affinities. Except that this too had likely zero effect for one at the rank of Sovereign.
Taking a break from the wood carving, twining and weaving practices required for shaping items like bangles and rings, Ori worked on his surprise for Harriet. Taking a large wad of paper and a bottle of ink, Ori sat and transcribed Arabella’s, or former Queen Iris’s journal using his Split Mind and ManaScribe ability in conjunction with his Boon of the Succubus. It was then he realised the boon had duplicated itself, as if an imprint of its knowledge was now buried in the depths of his mind, a version of which he ignored for now as something else stole his attention.
Something like Boon of the Succubus floated within his new realm of perception, relying on what Ori could only describe as karmic connections, to divine and translate languages, and right now, it made the process of written translation far easier than Ori had feared.
By the time night arrived, Ori had only managed to translate a third of the entire book. Although it contained the usual complaints from an unwilling apprentice, Ori still discovered interesting insights into enchanting and elven culture. With no interest in the commercial aspects of enchanting and possessing bloodline talents that apparently allowed her to manipulate fate over strategically long-term periods, Arabella had naturally gravitated towards the aspect of Enchanting that focused on the Art of Naming.
He filed away his work as Poppy entered the workshop bringing another tray of food with a smile. This time, she joined him for the meal, settling herself on the floor in her typical, relaxed, side-sit position. Ori joined her, appreciating the informal setting.
As they ate, they didn't talk much, with Ori genuinely hungry and the food delicious. However, lingering glances were exchanged. Her gaze fixated on his eyes, while Ori's drifted across her form – the freckles on her cleavage, her lithe, slender legs covered by a hempen dress that still seemed stylish despite its earthy look, the way her otherwise modest dress hinted it was the only layer of clothing Poppy wore. Since the previous night, despite the questions and uncertainty still swirling around in his mind, Ori had found himself constantly aroused; with a mind able to focus on at least three tasks simultaneously, it was hardly surprising. Still, Ori fought back a desperate desire to be closer to her, his seeming need to hold her by her thin waist, his confidence not yet at the point where he felt comfortable making physical advances with a second woman in as many nights.
'Freya’s going to be insufferable,' Ori thought with a smile, looking forward to his next dreamwalk despite the sprite being close to the mark in her initial assessment of the situation. Even now, he struggled to believe his luck and was unable to view his circumstances objectively. Shaking his head in wonder, he met Poppy’s considering gaze.
“What?” Ori asked.
“I like it when you're happy.”
Ori rolled his eyes and chuckled. While he felt the same, he had no interest in his life becoming any more of a sappy romantic drama than it already was. Meanwhile, the more he observed Poppy, the more he noticed that beneath her airy, carefree grace, was someone direct and surprisingly intense. Was that her Var’Drow heritage showing? A culture even more matriarchal than the Lunaesidhe's, where noblewomen often did the choosing.
“It’s hard not to be happy here, especially with this workshop and all its books,” Ori replied.
“Ah, yes, I see it’s those books that have you smiling ear to ear.”
“And the food, the food is delicious here,” Ori continued.
She nodded, “I have noticed you do have more of an appetite today,” Poppy laughed as she brought a glass of wine to her lips.
“So, about that visit to the night garden?” Ori had to shake himself from his fixated staring as he finished his meal. Poppy stood and pirouetted on top of a pointed toe, a spontaneous moment that seemed indicative of her current, more impulsive mood.
“If it would please you, Maestro,” she offered her dainty hand outstretched.
“You know, I was joking when I called myself that?”
Poppy shrugged. “I just like how it sounds.”
“How do you mean?” Ori said, confused, wondering if the word he had used was the elven version or his Earth-based English.
“Many soberly claim to be the next virtuoso or a living prodigy. But when you joke about becoming so, I can’t help but believe it.” She said, “To me, it sounds like a promise,”
Ori just stared at her, bashful and unsure of how to react, before she held his hand and guided him through the shadows. Within three steps, they found themselves in the luscious garden. While different from their previous location, it continued the trend of cultivated, well-manicured plants and foliage, but with a wilderness that intensified as dusk turned into night. Luminescent flowers and insects lit up the grasses. Rich scents of night-blooming flora, their petals glowing in hues of blues, purples, greens, and pinks, while giant trees, their leaves whispering ancient secrets, bordered this section of the garden.
Underneath roots large enough to sit on, phosphorescent mushrooms added a fae-like whimsy. Fireflies darted between the flowers, their intermittent glow creating a dynamic landscape of light against the night that pulsed in rhythm to the forest's invisible song.
Upon entering the clearing, Poppy seemed unchained, spinning away into a wild and spontaneous ballet. Ori watched in awe as her movements whirled not just her limbs and torso in ever increasingly graceful and complex twists and dances, but also the energy of the surroundings. Even without his vision, Ori could feel mana and other energies flow as Poppy pirouetted around him, his body turning to keep her in his sight.
Meanwhile, her smile was unrestrained, she seemed free and joyful as if finally able to fully express herself to him for the first time.
She slowed and fell into his arms, her mood infectious.
“What was that?” Ori laughed.
“Oh, that? Nothing, I just love this place, and I love to dance.”
Chuckling once more, Ori asked, “I take it dancing 's your thing, like a craft?”
“With four dancer classes, I should think so.”
“Four!?” Ori complained, internally rueing the unfairness of how elves could have nine classes and humans only three.
“Expressive Dancer, Void Dancer, Platonic Dancer of the Silver Moon and…” She trailed off.
“And?” Ori asked.
“Better if I show you,” she said, looping her arms around his neck. Ori’s arms were magnetically drawn to her hips, they settled there as they swirled and snaked in his grasp. He was swept along with her Grace into a sensuous, sensual dance. Her scent was a heady mix of something like vanilla, an indiscernible mix of pheromones that drew him in, his vision of the garden around them blurring into a neon haze as Poppy’s gentle smile, her freckled nose, and soft, big brown eyes filled his vision.
She darted in for another one of her elusive kisses, but deciding he needed more, Ori pulled them together. Space no longer separated them as their lips met once more, and Ori’s hands lowered to cup the round soft flesh of her backside.
He could have drowned in her taste, the soft smooth feel of her skin, how her body seemed to be a paradoxical mix of weightless, lithe grace, and a wild torrent of power. The subtle gyrations of her hips and the closeness of her firm, flat tummy to his straining length drove all reason and questions away from Ori’s mind. His heat and need pushed him further and deeper into their embrace, his grip on her soft, tight backside tighter until she lifted off the ground entirely, her liberated legs wrapping tightly around his core.
“Mmmm,” she groaned into their increasingly passionate kiss, Poppy’s grinding hip movements continued despite how tightly Ori held her. Without breaking their connection, he lowered himself to the garden's floor, the soft tickling of the grass adding to his overload of stimuli.
She broke their kiss, though still straddling him, a glint of concern in her eyes.
“You should know that I’m not pure, not a maiden.”
“Okay?”
“I have been with other men,” Poppy said, with an uncharacteristic air of unwillingness.
“So? I’m not a virgin either. But, err, it has been a very, very long time,” Ori said, too caught up in his passions to give the matter much thought and choosing to reassure her with actions instead of further words. He pushed her down, kissing her once more as he lay on her back surrounded by the tall grasses. His hands roamed her smooth skin, her small breasts, her erect nipples, groping and caressing and pinching, enjoying and cataloguing the responses he received as his kisses wandered away from her lips to her neck, the piercings on her long, delicate elven ears. She seemed to twitch, her breath hitching whenever he nibbled on the red tips of her ears. This emboldened him to send his free hand questing beneath the opening of her dress, now riled up well above her knees.
Ori was surprised to find that she was bare, with absolutely no underwear between his hands and her most private of parts, which were smooth, hot, slick with gooey arousal, and completely hairless.
“It’s been a while for me too, Ori,” Poppy gasped as Ori’s hand found her core and his teeth nibbled on the tip of her ear. “I’m already close.”
“Then don’t hold back, Poppy,” he murmured, relishing in this newfound gratification. Did he really make her feel this good? Could just his kisses and touch really make her come?
“Mhmmm aaaah.” Her core strained under his touch, her back arching and thighs clenching together as she tumbled into an intense orgasm. It was followed by a breathy cry, loud in the relative silence of the garden as Ori, following his instincts, bit hard upon her ear.
For several moments in awe over his deeds, Ori simply watched; her dishevelled brown hair spilling into the long strands of grass, the sole nipple spilling out of her ruffled dress, or how the rise and fall of her naked breast under heavy breathing sent Ori into a trance.
Knowing that he was on a hair trigger and enjoying this sensation of control, Ori grinned at a dreamy Poppy, and shifted, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses down her neck and towards that thick, dark nipple that so tantalisingly poked out of the cleavage of her hempen dress.
“Spirits!” Poppy hitched as he sucked and then nibbled upon her nipple, a growing understanding that she was no fragile flower despite her silken skin and delicate frame enabling him to be rougher, and more unrestrained in his passions. His head travelled lower, until he was between her legs, that elusive, indescribable scent now all-consuming as he brought his mouth to her glistening quim. He lost himself simply exploring her womanhood with his mouth, his tongue paying no heed to any specific part of her vagina as his hands grasped her buttocks, pressing her groin into his face. She came again, the wonderful sensation of her core tensing, while muscles all over her smooth, toned thighs and backside twitched uncontrollably for several seconds.
“Ori, you're going to make me come again,” Poppy said breathlessly, grasping one of the hands cupping her backside as her other twisted her nipple.
Feeling his skin prickle as a tide of paracausal energies came up to meet him, and something within him rose to meet it. His eyes shifted vision to see Poppy’s soul swirl like a tornado, its inverted tip seeking into the metaphysical space between them, his own soul's meagre tendril reaching out in response.
‘Taurna’diem?’ Ori wondered in joy and astonishment. However, just before the connection between their souls was made, Poppy hissed, uncoiling herself around him and standing in a movement so swift and seamless, it may have occurred in a blink.
“Spirits, someone's coming,” Poppy whispered. She helped Ori up and within three steps, they were back in the workshop. “I’m sorry, Ori, but I need to find out who that was.”
Catching her as she kissed him, he held her tight, mind knowing she needed to go, but his body, his need, was unwilling. “Okay,” he said, mind winning out as he released her.
"I'll make it up to you, promise."
With one quick kiss and a backwards step through the shadows, Poppy was gone leaving Ori alone, his mind spinning with all that had just happened.