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Finally, some time alone. The lousy barbarian has drunk himself to sleep and the witch is carousing with the locals in the tavern below. Here, on the second floor of the Dusty Dragon, a small reading room lies soundproofed from the rest of the raucous hall. Weapon approaches and enters on tentative feet, the only kind he has ever known. Inside, the room is barely furnished with rows of sparsely packed shelves and some ratty chairs clustered together in the center. On one of these chairs sits the Sorceress, poring over an unassuming tome. Carefully trained eyes pull the title from the spine: “Dying to Dryads: a Fictional Account”
“Reading your freak shit again?” The gunslinger asks, shutting the door behind him and taking up a slouch near the frame. When he only receives a murmur of affirmation, he continues, “I don’t get your obsession with those books. Completely unrealistic.”
“Realism is an author’s curse, Wep.” Azure looks up from her reading with something so gentle as to not be called disdain, “But I know you didn’t come up here to critique my reading habits, so why don’t you tell me what it is you really want?”
“You don’t know that,” Weapon scoffs, “Maybe I’m tired of hanging around Notti and Rhutzea.” It’s true. Notti had spent the evening drunk as a skunk hitting on every available piece of ass in the bar, including Weapon himself. Rhutzea kept asking if he wanted to be involved in any rituals and what organs or body parts he would be “hypothetically” willing to part with.
“I’m sure you are, but you have the heart of a loner. You wouldn’t seek me out if you didn’t want something. I know I can help.” Helping seemed to be all she did. Between when she calmed the unruly farmers of Downburrow and her amazing social graces with the nobles of this town itself, she was the most adept in the group at handling the social aspect of their misadventures. The party had never turned down a request, “So, for the second time, what is it you desire, Weapon?”
Skth arvoc vk kharla. Of course. She was too perceptive to actually let this slide. Very well, then. Truth, it is.
“Look. I get you’re some sort of big shot priestess. But quite frankly I’ve got my reservations about your whole ordeal. I’ve never heard of your goddess, what scant few rites you’ve performed look nothing like anything I've ever seen, and furthermore, the only consistent belief I’ve ever seen you hold is that helping people is good. In fact-“ the half-fiend is cut off abruptly by the book in Azure’s hands snapping closed.
“I grow weary of repeating myself, Wep. I’m not a priestess in the traditional sense. I am a prophet, a chosen of Arshea. It is none of my concern that you don’t know them, nor that you fail to remember their name after I’ve repeated it many times. Let me simplify matters for you. I can see into people’s souls,” Weapon scoffs, but Azure continues unabated, “See what they hold back, what can make them happy, what they refuse themselves. You’re refusing yourself something, too. And you have been. Judging by the size of it, probably long before we met. I can show you what it is. My god demands that I do if you say yes. Would you like to see? See what, for the first time ever, would make you feel truly yourself?”
For one of the first times in his life, Weapon finds himself speechless. He’s holding something back? Hardly. He lives exactly how he wants to. Yet, he cannot deny the call. If she knows something, he has to learn what it is. Before he even opens his mouth, Azure stands and walks towards him.
“Meet me in my room. I’ll show you the tenants of my faith. And enact them once more.” She winks at Weapon, spinning on heels, her revealing dress somehow showing more of what is hidden, more of her pale, beautiful skin as she goes to walk away. Weapon follows, marching with the determination he has when he is given a target to gun down, a purpose to move, a reason to live. Upon arriving at the door to her room—upgraded to the luxury suite as a result of some very pleased and generous nobles in town—Azure enters ahead of her companion, gracing his eyes with another spin to face him in the antechamber, “Stay here a moment. I need to prepare the items for the ritual. You can take off your armor, too. You won’t be needing it tonight.”
“All the same, I’ll keep it on.” He says coldly. Never drop a weapon, never go unarmored into strange territory. Two rules that have served him well. Azure frowns almost imperceptibly, shrugging as she steps through to her rooms proper.
“Very well, though the magic works best with one’s beauty exposed to the world.” She moves through the room, with a confidence that she owns it, “But do please lock the door. I do not mind if the ritual is observed but I presume you would prefer the privacy, Wep.”
Hah. Beauty. Weapon was sure he possessed none of that, but with deep breaths and cautious movements, he deadbolts the door. Sturdy thing, too. Even Notti would have trouble breaking it down. Were this anyone but Azure, he surely would’ve put a round in their head before getting this far. Maybe she had a point, though. Maybe something was making him miserable. Maybe. When Azure returns from behind the screens, she is completely nude, carrying what looks to be a handwritten journal, the one he saw her often write, illustrate in, and read from, and a box of what looks to be expensive looking spell components, and mundane makeups and beauty products as well. Though, most surprisingly, she's… armed. Not with weaponry, but rather an impressive… instrument between her legs. Weapon’s hand shoots to his back hip in a single motion dissuaded by Azure’s shaking head,
“Don’t reach for your gun, Wep. I just told you. This works best with one’s beauty exposed to the world. I’m not asking you to strip nude like myself. Just remove the armor, and open your mind to potential.” Weapon does not move, however, as his discomfort begins to overwhelm him. He’s long since learned that discomfort precedes pain. He’s… had his wounds mended too many times to think that Azure wishes to strike him, but still his instincts freeze him, one way or the other. Azure stops as well and frowns, slowly putting the box down on the other side of the room. “Okay, I understand. May I approach?”
“If you touch me, I’m going to put this between your eyes faster than you can chant a spell. You know I can do it. You’ve seen it happen.” His fingers graze the wooden handle of his pistol, one in the chamber for emergencies. She wouldn’t hurt him. Not in her nature. But this is…this is all too weird. Behind him, his tail begins to lash side to side.
“I understand. May I read a passage, an edict, and an anathema to Arshea?” Azure opens the book. That? That is a holy text? She takes a step, Weapon twitches, she speaks, “To find oneself engrossed in their passions, be it of flesh or art, is to be invoking my love, to free your soul, however, to do so against one’s will, to take without reciprocation, to harm without compassion, or to inflict pain that cannot be recovered from, you shall find the rarest of my moods. My wrath. To engage in passions is an Edict, but to do so without consent, one of their greatest sins.” She continues to step forwards, unblinking at the sight of his defensiveness. “You may level your weapon at my head, if you wish. Whatever happens,” By the time she’s finished the word “head”, Weapon has already placed the barrel against her forehead. It’s a trap. But if it’s a trap, he can at least be prepared to pull the trigger. Yet, his finger merely lies alongside it now. She’s unblinking, the vampiric blood in her so much more obvious from this close. She looks towards Weapon’s other hand, “May I? So you may feel my heartbeat?” He begrudgingly extends a hand, letting her guide it-slowly- to her wrist. It’s faint. It’s slow. Her passage had brought a little relief to his panicked mind, but words were just words. Feeling the languid pulse was real. Stone cold relaxed in the face of death. That’s Azure, all right. Not an imposter. “I will do nothing to harm you Weapon, and nothing we do will be against your will. You are in control here.” A long, poignant pause. The gun lowers.
“Fine. I’m in control. I’ll doff the armor, but I’m keeping the gun.” A compromise. Weapon could be reasonable when life and gold weren’t on the line. Azure waits for him to holster his gun, and smiles patiently.
“Thank you Weapon, I appreciate the trust. Do you mind if I retrieve the components for the ritual? This one is explicitly magical and will require some time to perform. It is, however, temporary. So do understand that before we go through with anything, alright?” She returns to the box of ritual components, and lifts it before approaching again, calm and slow. She waits for Weapon to doff his armour, watching patiently.
He complies, starting with his bracers. As they fall to the floor, he cracks the knuckles on both hands before removing his studded leather chest piece. When the greaves come off, he’s left standing before her naked form in just a tunic and cloth pants. Azure smiles at him, and nods acceptingly. “Thank you, this will help the magic flow through your form more freely. Now,” She says, pulling a mirror out of the bag. Its intricate, silver, expensive gemstones inlay the reflective side, and on the back, a humanoid figure covered in multicoloured sashes. She shows him the back first, and relays instructions. “When I show you the reflection, I want you to memorize it in this mirror, every shape and contour, every line and crease, scar and detail. Are you ready?”
“You…want me to memorize my own face?” Weapon can't help the derisive tone that enters his voice. He’s seen his own face many times in plenty of mirrors. He’s pretty sure he knows what he looks like. But…maybe this mirror will show him something different. Magic works in strange ways. Often beneficial ones, “Very well. I’m ready.”
Weapon looks at the Mirror, it’s nothing special. Not yet. But he does as told. He hears, in Empyrean, a prayer, the ritual has officially started, “Spirit of Abandon, Arshea, oh listen to my prayers. We hold here a soul, repressed and willing, who wishes to see what is desired, to feel what is wanted, to know what is needed, and to embrace truth hidden within their heart. They seek truth, having lived a life one way, having felt something missing, something empty, bring it forth,” Azure smiles, and says in common, “Close your eyes please,” before continuing, Weapon feeling something brush across his face, though knowing that Azure sits too far away to touch him, “Pull their desires in their soul forwards, shine their true beauty through, show them who they are, without their walls of repression and duty, without the fears and the denial, without the silence and the weight, Set them free of their chains, and show them the freedom that their soul screams for. Pull the blade from their heart away. Let them see themselves. Okay, open your eyes.”
When he does so, the mirror has been turned to face him, gemstones shining in multicoloured light, revealing his face. Nothing else is in focus but himself, the mirror, and Azure, everything else is fuzzy, far away. Weapon’s face in the mirror is the focus. What he sees, at first, is himself in makeup. Like an elaborate prank.
For a second, he finds…that he likes the reflection. It’s well-done. Then the rage comes. His arms raise, shaking as he curls dextrous hands into fists. Rather than swing, he steps back, breaking gaze with his reflection.
“So that’s it? A whole fucking chant and prayer? Making me take off my armor so you could fucking prank me? What the fuck is this?”
“The magic hasn’t even started yet. Look, the mirror’s face didn’t change position.” Azure turns the mirror slightly, showing how the image remains stationary as though it were a painting. “Watch it, the magic just needs a second to flow. Rituals take time. Look at the rest of the world, hazy and unfocused right? We’re focusing on you, but deeply repressed souls take some time to shine to the surface.” Deeply repressed? What the hell was she talking about? But…Fine. He takes a shaky step back towards her and through gritted teeth, apologizes. The world remains blurred around him as he waits.
The mirror seems to hold its shape, but soon, his reflection changes. It softens, warps, changes to look not dissimilar to him. But, to someone who looks like he had a sister. He hears Azure’s voice softly say, “Oh good, it’s working as intended.” An itching begins in his cheeks, spreading rapidly around his face. His skin feels like clay, invisible fingers poking and prodding at it, molding bit by bit. It’s not unpleasant, but it is strange. And…whatever she’s showing him is nice. The girl in the mirror is pretty. Her horns are a slightly different shade, and her eyes shine brightly, like she’s seen a future that’s worth saving. Something’s off. A familiar, distinct scar on her right cheek. Weapon reaches up to touch his face, feeling the skin along his scar soften under his touch. Azure’s smile widens, fangs glinting in the rainbow light, and she hands a mundane mirror over to the young gunslinger, before saying, “By the way, and I know from personal experience, this part hurts a bit…” Weapon’s chest starts to itch and burn alongside his hips. When he looks down, he sees his bust rapidly growing, filling out the loose tunic he always wore. His hips surge, widening and softening as he grabs at the straining fabric. Panic sets in.
“Wh-what are you doing to me?” Gone is the gruff edge in his voice, replaced by an almost dainty, cutesy tone he doesn't recognize. His hands fly from his hips to his mouth as the base of his horns begins to itch next, and he watches in the mirror Azure handed him as the coloration lightens from red to rosy pink.
“Nothing your soul didn’t ask me to do. This is what you’ve always wanted, Weapon. Such a crude and unfitting name for such a beautiful girl.” From his horns, Weapon’s entire scalp bursts into flames, prompting a girlish cry to flee his lips before he sees the raven-dark strands fall around his face. Then…it all stops. The itch recedes. The burning soothes. The pain stops. He looks up into the mirror, face invisibly flush beneath red skin sees, no longer a weapon but instead…you.
Tears form in your eyes as you gaze not into the magicked mirror held by your compatriot, but the mundane one she handed you as the magic took hold. You fall to your knees, lost in emotions that you can’t even name.
“How do you feel?” There’s no malice or deeper seeking to these words, no traps or hidden motives here. They’re plain and true. How do you feel?
“I…I feel…” the tears come. The first ones in decades. As they flow over your cheeks and fall to the floor below, you choke out an answer, “Everything is…good.” That fails to capture the breadth of your emotions, but you never were a poet.
“I’m glad. And you are absolutely stunning. Truly reflective of your inner beauty.” Azure smiles at you, soft, warm. She looks at you, deep into you, like she was always right, and could see what you see now, underneath everything. She saw you, “I’m so very glad you finally came to me. It was hard sometimes, seeing how desperately she wanted out. How much you wanted to be free. The walls protecting you were so very thick, I could barely see you sometimes. But…I couldn’t help you until you asked for it.” Azure pauses once more, taking in your form, and smiling softly. “I never told you how I chose my name, did I? I chose my favourite colour, the first time I saw it was among Arshea’s sashes, when they spoke to me as a teenager. It was glorious, they came to me as,” She gestures to herself, “this. Not the scared homeless boy, abandoned by his mother, no clue where his father was and hoping they’d never meet, who so desperately didn’t want to hurt people that he held back his cravings for blood and meat on the bodies of rats. But me, Azure. I chose it then, as they chose me. Now as I choose you, what do you choose to be known as?”
What did you want to be known as? You’d never considered it. Not since long ago, as a young boy filled with rage and violence as bullied young boys so often are. You despised your red skin, your horns and tail, all traits of a fiendish father who disappeared long before your mother died. You decided that violence was the only path out. You branded yourself a weapon. But now? As you gaze into the mirror and examine your beautiful face, scarred and battered though it may be? Only one word rises through the joy surging through your veins. One word bubbles up from your stomach and out your lips before you even have a chance to consider it. You don’t need to. In your unsheltered heart, you know it to be right. To be You.
“Hope…I want to be Hope…”
“Hope is a wonderful name. I think it suits you.” Azure kneels in front of you, taking your damp chin in her hand and lifting your gaze to her own. You can barely form the gratitude in your throat into words, but you can see in her soft eyes that she understands. And…something a little more. A spark. A small flicker. An emotion you’re not accustomed to receiving, at least not in earnest. Desire. Her normally soft and comforting smile has a predatory glint to it you’re only used to seeing from the side, towards someone else. “But… that’s not all you’ve been holding back, was it Hope?”
“Wh-what?” You’re still not used to your new voice, even less the quiver that appears. She’s not changed size, but even kneeling with you, she seems bigger. Her fangs glint in the rainbow light now dimming from the mirror as you settle into your new body. You haven’t quite noticed how beautiful she is until now. Or perhaps you just never let yourself notice. Perhaps you kept a safe distance from anything you could hurt. Perhaps a weapon shouldn’t be pointed at something you love.
“I see it in your eyes, with every second glance you’ve made. I never had to look into your soul to know you wished for me to devour you.”
“D-Devour me? I…I told you I wanted to keep my blood where it belonged…” While that was true, Azure was right. You had glanced at her fangs when she talked many times. Watched her feed and felt what could have been called a tinge of jealousy. Well, when it didn’t result in the victim passing, of course. But. How did she know? You’re stealthy. Discreet. You turned away and secluded yourself when her cries could be heard through the walls at the cheaper inns. Right now, you want to listen. Not run. Should you just admit it? She already knows, “Did…did you know I was lying?”
“I don’t think you were lying. I think you thought you were dangerous, Hope. I think you still think that. And I know a way to get through that last little bit of resistance. How much do you trust me?”
“I’d let you watch me while I sleep. I’d let you cover my back in combat. I often leave my life in your hands. I trust you a lot.” Even though the words come easily, a trepidation takes root down your back, ice down your shirt. Your shirt. You look down and notice the fit is completely wrong and the fabric previously just fine over calloused skin now itches against newly softened breasts.
“Would you trust me to see you topless?” Her smile, she’s been waiting for this, hasn’t she? She’s been wanting you to submit to her. But how much? A new problem rears its head. Before tonight, you might not have cared if she saw you shirtless. Suddenly, you’re bashful. But…you do want her to see you. You want her to see you. With a tiny nod, you reach for the nape of your neck and drag the shirt forward, a maneuver oft practiced that fails you this time as your hair gets caught up in the process. Well. This is fucking embarrassing. Azure softly giggles at you, and asks, “Would you like a hand Hope?” The word struggles from beneath the fabric you’ve trapped yourself in.
“Please…” it’s small and pathetic, an unaccustomed plea. You should’ve figured you can’t do things the same as before.
Another soft chuckle and your heart melts before you feel delicate arms touch your new sensitive skin, running up your sides, reaching your shirt, and working it over you. When the light is again revealed to you, her smile greets you, though she’s not looking at your face. “We must get you some nicer clothes, Hope… Girls like these should be shown off, not hidden.” She reaches closer to your head and whispers, “Good girl, I wonder still, would you trust me to see you nude?” Your breathing quickens. Nude? So quickly? Even Notti hadn’t. Not for lack of…well trying would be too strong a word. The man loves bathing for someone who’s so insistent on drinking anything in a bottle. Every river, lake, or ocean, he had to be in it and he always tried to drag you. You get the irritating feeling that won’t stop because of your new body. Deep breath. You hook your thumbs in your waistband, sliding them and your underclothes off in a single motion. The night air is cold on your skin, raising hairs on your neck and hardening your nipples some. Instinctively, you cover up, clenching your thighs together and breaking eye contact, once again, Her voice cuts through everything. “Good girl, Look at how beautiful you are. And, let me see you in your full glory.” Slowly, you open up. If you had a poet’s heart, you’d liken it to a flower in the morning sun, slowly unfolding your limbs and spreading your legs while presenting yourself to her gaze. You feel your cock stiffen slightly in the faint breeze and you look further away. It’s too embarrassing to bare this body before her. No matter how good her words make you feel.
You hear a gasp and a loving voice say simply, “You’re beautiful. You need to know that. I wonder, however. Would you trust me with anything, Hope? You said you would trust me with your life. Do you want to prove it?” You just nod. When that doesn’t prompt a response, you reply in a voice almost too timid to be your own,
“Y-yes, Azure.”
“Look at me when I talk to you.” Straight, Direct, cold. You’ve heard her use this tone negotiating with stubborn people. It’s beautiful. You stare up at her as your cheeks heat up. Her icy gaze burns straight through you. It’s hard to meet her eyes, but it’s even harder to look away. You repeat yourself,
“Yes, Azure.” Calmer, almost more confident.
“Good. Give me your gun.” Your gun? It’s still on the floor where you discarded it after aiming it at her forehead didn’t faze her. You reach for it and remove it from the holster before offering it up to her in both hands. An onlooker might liken the pose to one of worship. She takes it from you delicately, turning it over in her hands with some level of detached interest, rubbing a finger on its striking rune, A well designed sigil that increased the lethality of its bearer. “Is it loaded?”
“All guns are loaded, ma’am. Safer that way.”
“I understand.” Azure holds it properly, by the grip, one finger resting on the guard but off the trigger, she looks you directly in the eyes, the predatory glint returning, “Open your mouth.”
You do, almost unquestioningly, extending your tongue slightly as a whimper leaves your mouth before the gunsteel enters it. A shiver wracks your body. Excitement? Fear? They mingle unnaturally. You can’t tell what she’s feeling by her face. In combat, she’s grim, serious. You’ve watched her bake a man’s head in divine flames for his crimes. You don’t see that Azure before you. When you’re out in public, she’s joyous, loving, exuberant. Literally touching lives and improving them in leaps and bounds. You don’t recognize that Azure here, either. In fact, she almost reminds you of the nuns at the orphanage. Sadistic bitches who loved to punish you for the tiniest infractions. They took pride in beating you senseless. You can see the pieces, sadism and pride on her visage, but they don’t blend like you expect.
“This is what you’ve been doing to yourself, Hope. Holding the barrel in your mouth and waiting to pull the trigger. And you’ve been doing it your whole life.” Her voice drops and you can hear the sadism drip off her fangs. She’s hungry, "Isn't it so much worse, now? Are you afraid I’ll pull the trigger? Isn’t it nicer? To have that fear? To actually want to live? To turn this Weapon,” oh god. She means you, ”Into an object of desire? An instrument of pleasure? Will you pray, to be something worth loving? Something that can Hope?” The noise that leaves you is utterly pathetic as you nod around the barrel on your tongue. The metallic taste fills your senses as your pristine firearm is rocked back and forth on your tongue, “Oh, poor thing, you probably can’t talk back right now, can you?” When she giggles, it’s the wicked one, the one you heard just before she surprised your captor and drained him dry from the neck, “Close your lips and suck. I’m going to take your trust in me and show you how to be the girl you’ve always wanted to be. You’ll feel so good in my arms. In my bed. You can back out at any time, of course. But you won’t. Because you want this. You want to be submissive. You want to be dominated. You were too afraid to ever admit it before, but in a time of new beginnings, you can finally have what you want. My control.”
By all the gods you want that, so badly. No. Not all of them. This is only possible because of one god, and their Prophet. Arshea. Arshea and Azure. You close your eyes, feel yourself loosen, take more of the barrel as you move your head forwards. You hear the hammer cock, but you trust her. You trust her with your life. She’s saved it so many times, and finally gave you one worth living. You wait, and feel the gun pull back, feel air breeze past your face as if she’s aiming it away from you, and hear the hammer softly return to a safe position. Still, you keep your eyes closed, mouth open, waiting. Footsteps wander away, a gentle thud as something hits a nearby table, and footsteps returning. You trust her, keeping your eyes closed, and feel Azure’s lips find yours, needy, hungry, like she’s trying to drain your soul out. You melt into it, on your knees, as she takes your mouth with her own, all of you for herself. In the middle of it, you hear between multiple kisses, “That’s my good pet. You’re mine. I could have blown your head off and you trusted me not to. You’re. Mine.”
The groan into her lips is one of pure lust and desire. Those two words course through your veins and leave you wanting more. Softened hands find her body and run along her cold skin. She feels amazing. You need more. You can’t let this stop now.
“Please…please, Azure…please…” maybe it’s still a little too soon to articulate exactly what you want from her. She pulls away, a sadistic gleam returning to her eye as she brushes your newly grown hair out of your face.
“Please? Please what? You know me better than that, Hope.”
“Please…please use me. I’m not a weapon anymore. I’m your tool. I’m yours. Use me to make you feel good, please.” Gods above and below, you sound so markedly pathetic begging for this. But, it’s all you’ve wanted. A purpose. A meaning. And she’s provided both at gunpoint for you tonight.
“See? Isn’t it so much nicer to give in to your desires? To be guided by a steady hand and a loving embrace?” True to her words, Azure envelops you in a warm hug despite the chill of her touch, “but if you want me to use you, that I can do. But, look at me first.” She pulls back just enough to lock eyes with you, “Hope, I need you to know that by placing your life in my hands, you will be absolutely safe. Even if you were to fade from this life, I would not let you stay dead.”
You nod. You’ve seen her bring the recently dead back more than once. It’s been a literal lifesaver in recent conflicts, even. Hell, she recently brought you back from the brink during the fight with the Gray Worm. Even riddled with holes, that…thing was unstoppable. Was. Keyword. Your reminiscing is cut short as she buries her face in your neck, peppering red skin with soft and gentle kisses as warmth spreads through your body. Two fangs trace soft, delicate lines against your already red skin, like she's searching for something. “I'm hungry.” Azure finally admits, mouth along your neck, kissing and sucking and hovering just over. “May I finally taste you?” The words rush out in a single breath,
“Yes, please, Azure, please taste me, I’ve been wanting to feel your fangs for so long.” It has been quite some time since you first saw her feed. Saw the “monster” side of the holy woman. Since you felt slightly more at home in this party of weirdos knowing you weren’t the only one designed on some level to kill. A belief that couldn’t be further from your mind right now. You just need to feel her drain you. To take what's left of the poison running through your veins. To prove that you can be more than just an instrument to kill, that you can bring life.
“Thank you.” A sharp pain, her fangs are vicious, dangerous, they sink through your unguarded flesh easily. Then, bliss. A draining, an emptying, a feeling of her touch and tongue and fangs pulling the life itself from your veins. Her claw-like fingernails dig into your skin, and pain and pleasure merge into a new and beautiful feeling. You feel your life fading, your constitution weakening. You go to tap, as you feel yourself weakening more and more, but you recognize these noises, these blissed out, angelic moans. She's lost in the bloodlust. She bites more, almost chewing. Things get hazier, the world starts to fade, you cannot even raise a hand, everything goes dark. You're standing in line, somewhere. Souls of the dead both in front and behind you, something instinctual tells you. You see in the line ahead of you someone you personally killed. With a sickening tug at your core, it all vanishes and you're back in her arms, breathing, chest heaving, exhausted, but alive. Azure caresses your head, and she asks, eyes full of concern, “Oh thank Arshea I caught you in time. Hope, are you okay?”
It takes some time to form the words. It’s not your first brush with death. You’ve stared it in the face often enough to become numb to it. Immune to the fear. Sometimes, you thought it might be a welcome release would it not inconvenience your friends. But, this? This was terrifying. You cling desperately to your lover, burying your face in her chest as you sob, tears flowing,
“I-I-I don’t wannnnna ddiiiieeeeeeee!” The realization hits like a company of cavaliers trampling over your body. You feel a comforting embrace. She's warm now, holding onto you. “Shhh it's okay, it's okay. I'm here. So long as I am, you are not going to die. You'll live for your whole natural life. Perhaps longer. I promise.” You cling to her warmth and cry for a bit. It’s…overwhelming how different you feel about it. What if you can’t face it anymore? What if you can’t protect your friends when they’re in danger? When you relay this to Azure, she comforts you in the soft voice you’ve heard so many times. After what feels like hours of bawling in her lap, you rub away the remaining tears and look her in the eyes,
“I’m glad I fed you, Azure. I…it was scary, I thought I was going to die, but I trusted you and you kept your word. I’d…I’d do it again, if you wanted.” Azure cuddles into you, her skin is so soft, so nice on your new skin. You could stay like this forever, never having known the comfort of closeness before. Your breathing syncs up with hers. You hardly knew you could be happy before but this. Is this how she feels? All the time? You feel a loving hand cup the back of your head, and you’re left looking at Azure, soft eyes, gentle smile.
“I’m full for the day. I truly do apologize, I should have eaten something beforehand. I would love to drink from you again, you tasted absolutely wonderful, but not today. You’re drained enough as is. Though, if you wish to explore your new body, I have more than enough energy now.” Azure looks at you with a different hunger in her eyes, she caresses you, runs hands along new sensitive places, forcing a moan out of you once again. You would like that. You would love that. You don’t even know what things your new body can do. Yes. Please. You’re nodding, shaking, excited in a way you didn’t even know people could be.
“Azure, I…I can’t think of anyone better to explore my new body with. Please. Please touch me. Please guide me. Please help me.” A low noise you’ve never heard from her before, almost like a purr, rolls from her mouth as she cups your chin delicately,
“Of course~” her fingers trace small circles over your thighs, prompting a delightful little squeak from you, “Dear, I’m not even touching you seriously just yet. Looks like Rhutzea owes me five gold.” What? They were taking bets? What sort of—
Before you can finish that thought, her fingers brush your inner thigh and drive out another squeak, taking that train of thought away alongside her giggles as she enjoys your sounds. Enjoys you. You’re useful, more than your pragmatism and practicality. Not just for killing people and threatening extreme violence . You can bring joy and glee and warmth and care and everything you’re feeling, you can give to someone else too. You can add to the world, instead of just taking.
Azure’s fingers brush across your folds and you twitch, groaning into her neck as a shiver takes hold. It’s all so…intense. Wave after wave of pleasure ebbs over your muscles as she watches your body tense and relax in rhythm.
“Arshea, protect me. You’re too precious. Such a delicate little flower in my hands, aren’t you, Hope?” A whimper and a nod are all you can reply with as Azure begins to trace up and down your pussy. Not entering, just lazily teasing around the entrance and listening to you whine, “I’m going to give you what you want, Hope. But you’re going to put that mouth to work. If you stifle a single noise, I’m going to stop. You don’t want that, do you?” You shake your head, “Good. Girl.” On that enunciated praise, you almost immediately fail your one task as you clasp a hand over your mouth to stifle the moan at the name alone. When you remove your hand and let it out, it’s immediately intensified by the feeling of her pushing that first finger in. Your eyelids droop as her wrist rocks back and forth, filling the scant space between your bodies with lewd noises. Your hips haven’t stopped grinding against her touch the whole time and your moans are rewarded by her cooing more praises into your ear, “ohhhhhh, there you go. Good girl. It’s just one for now, that’s it. We’ll work you up to taking me. I know you’ve been eyeing it. Give it a touch.” Her free hand guides one of yours to her crotch where you instinctively clutch at her shaft. Oh fuck. It’s huge. Your own pales in comparison. It’s lengthy, able to fit in your hand, but as you begin to stroke the soft flesh, you find yourself in awe of it. Perhaps appropriately.
You shiver and twitch under her touch, as you can’t help but wonder if you could ever fit Azure’s girth, let alone length. Soft sounds of approval coming from her keeps you moving. You eventually get lost in the rhythm, getting wetter, louder, feeling her hardening impressive size, she fits a second, and a third finger into you, and you find your hips rolling to meet her, making lewd noises so loud that you must surely be able to be heard from downstairs. You moan and arc and move desperately to get more, feel more, mind overwhelmed with pleasure you never knew was possible. A fourth fits in, and through the fog of your horny bliss, Azure’s voice cuts through, “Wow, impressive for such an inexperienced thing. You always desired to take large girls, hm? Good. Girl.” You moan out unrestrained as she practically fucks you with her fingers, tears forming in your eyes from the unrestrained pleasure. You fall back with both arms onto the ground, nearly slipping on the ritual circle she must have drawn out while you had your eyes closed, and moan, and twitch, and just for the first time in your life, feel. Something akin to divinity washes over you almost, the first time ever, it feels like someone is watching over you. Then, she’s gone. Her fingers pull out of you with a noise that you would be embarrassed to describe falling from your lips as she leaves you unfulfilled for the first time all night.. “Don’t worry, you’ll be filled soon.” You open your eyes, and you see she’s lined up with you, kneeling over and pointing her massive cock directly at your new entrance, and a wave of fear shoots through you. But, she promised, she won’t hurt you. If Azure thinks you’re ready, you’re ready. You nod slightly.
It’s sharp and sudden, the new feeling. Completely unlike her fingers except for where you feel it. You barely got a look at it soft, and it feels even bigger inside you than it did in your hand. You groan, loudly. Surely there will be complaints. You don’t seem to care, exactly. Your fingers dig into her skin as you clutch at her again, eyes snapping open and meeting her beautiful gaze as she smiles. It’s a mix of warmth and lust and pleasure and that slight sparkle of sadism you saw earlier. Three words form on your lips as you regain the capacity for speech,
“Please…don’t stop.”
Her smile seems to soften, and she holds you, “Of course not. I want to be a girl you can never forget, and not just because I freed you.” She speeds up, nearly splitting you in two, as she holds you close to her, your chests rubbing against each other, your newly manicured nails piercing into her pallid skin, warming your fingers in the mixture of both of your bloods, and your mind nearly blanks in pleasure. Thoughts stop moving, you’re just here, in the moment, with her, embraced in passions, in love, no longer holding back anything, no longer with anything to fear, your screams likely letting everyone know what’s happening in here but you don’t care anymore. You just, embrace. Feelings overwhelming you, the only thought that passes through your mind is another desire, one more, but instead of keeping it in, like you have everything else, you shout in ecstasy,
“I WANT TO BE LIKE THIS FOREVER!” and it feels like the energy in the room shifts, something clicks, the haziness seems to return, and center you again. A pulse of magic, with every thrust, every moan and shout of bliss, a permanent change to your form. Empty and full and empty and full and something locks in. You don’t think about it, you just instinctually know. You feel the magic working, increasing the intensity, the pleasure, the buildup. A heat rises from your core, burning, begging for release. You feel light, dizzy, full, empty, building, a pressure, you bury in closer to Azure, the woman who started all this, digging deeper, hearing her as well, her grunts, her moans, her breathing, she feels incredible, and you get the feeling she is feeling incredible as well. You hear her voice, speak into your ear, a laboured whisper,
“I’m getting close, Hope, you feel incredible.” That’s it, that’s what it will take, to push you over the edge,
“I, fuck, please, me too. Inside, please… please cum inside me, fill me. In Arshea’s name cum inside.”
“Are-are you sure?” Azure replies, breathy, holding back but just barely,
“Yes, please, make me a woman… make me whole!”
“As you wish.”
Azure speeds up, thrusting harder, bending forwards, getting deeper. You cry out, overwhelmed, on the edge, she’s throbbing in you. You both reach your peak, and scream in ecstasy together, with her shooting rope after rope of thick cum deep inside of you, warming your insides, tears releasing as your body twitches and convulses and twitches and convulses, your own little cock pooling cum on yourself, as your hips roll and back arches into her. Into Azure. But you don’t just stop at one, you find yourself brought quickly over the edge again, thinking back to what she did to you, what she did for you. You twitch and cum and scream and cum like the waves in a pond when you fire a round frustrated into it. It’s so much, your eyes seeing stars, and colours, and a smiling Hope, wrapped in multicoloured sashes and beautiful grey wings upon her back, before it fades and you come to, exhausted, sweaty, twitching, and in her arms. You don’t say anything, just bask in the afterglow of the best time of your life.
You curl up into the softness, the comfort of her arms, when Azure eventually speaks, “Hope, as much as I love you in my arms, we shouldn’t be sleeping on the wooden floor, covered in burnt reagents. I have a lovely bed, fit for nobility, that’s just begging for us to warm it.” You think about it. You’re drained, literally and metaphorically, you always took the cheapest rooms, the cheapest food, the cheapest drink, you hated costing anyone anything. Honestly, it would be nice to sit in the lap of luxury for once. You look at her and nod. No energy for words. Not yet, “Well, then. Up we go.” She helps you to unsteady feet. Your legs feel like gelatinous cubes, barely holding your weight as she leads you towards the bed. You notice once your head hits the pillow that she’s shaking as well.
“Um…Azure?” You ask, “Can…you bring my pistol here?” She smiles and gestures to the table next to the bed, “Oh. Sorry.”
“Hope. Don’t apologize. It’s loaded for safety, that’s what you said. And I imagine you need every ounce of safety you can get right now.” She rejoins you in the luxurious sheets, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and cuddling close. She’s so warm. So full of life - your life. You can’t help the tears that come. You don’t mean to. Hells, you’ve never meant to cry in your whole life. She strokes up and down your newly softened skin as she holds you close. The first time anyone has ever held you like this. It feels…good. Sleeping alone doesn’t even compare. Thoughts and feelings rush to you with an ease you never felt before. You feel safe, for the first time probably ever, and words fall from your mouth.
“I’ve never felt safe before now.” You feel arms tighter, pulling you in. Protective and close. The silks are soft, the bedding comfortable, you’re safe. You melt into her embrace as tears flow freely. You hear her heartbeat as your head nuzzles into her chest. Right, she still has that. It’s slow, comforting. A hand strokes your hair, traces your horns. You shiver. That feels nice. You try to force your bodies even closer together, if that were possible.
“I’m glad you can finally feel it. You were crying out for love, and life, for so long. It must be nice, to have all that tension go.” You feel yourself relax, muscles going slack for the first time in your whole life. A creeping dread settles at the corners of your brain.
“What…what if I’m not a weapon anymore? What if I can’t protect you?” You pause and hiccup softly, “what if…you leave me behind? What will I do?” Her deft fingers caress your bare back as she pressed kisses to the top of your skull.
“Well, first of all, you’re not a weapon. You’re a girl. And you get to decide how you live instead of forcing yourself down one path. If you want to stop fighting, to stop killing with us, then I’m sure we’ll accept that. But…I can’t imagine you’ve thrown away your skills. The ritual doesn’t turn you into a new person, Hope. It just lets you be the person you’ve always wanted to be. If you don’t want to be an adventurer, that’s fine. You can still come with us. Who else is going to fix Notti’s shield or make potions for us? You’re still our friend, Hope. And…paramour, if you'll have me at least.”
“...” You need a second to think about it. You don’t want to leave any of them. They’re all so very special to you. And Azure… You had such a crush on Azure for some time. She’s beautiful, and that’s not a statement she is objectively a beautiful woman. And… this is a place of desires. You always desired to feel loved, to be held, to be worth loving. Even if you can’t protect them anymore, she’s saying she would still love you. But… you like adventuring. The rush, the thrill of discovery, and of combat. You honestly love it. You never felt like saying you love the smell of gunpowder and sulphur, the sound and the flash of the gun, and the kick of the recoil and the way dangerous people dropped. But you do. You guess you could still give it a try. “I… would really like that. To be yours. And to adventure with you. To spend my life with you. All of you. I want you to hold me at night, and to keep each other safe. I don’t know if I could raise a gun ever again but, I could still be helpful.”
“And you think you’re bad with words. That sounds beautiful.” She holds you more, pulls the covers over you two, fully, and she smiles. “Let’s get some sleep now. You must be exhausted.”
You yawn, comfortable in her arms. You close your eyes, your breath slows, you want to sleep for once, excited for what new dreams that can come. You feel safe, loved. And as if the universe wanted to prove your old self right, the window shatters. Your eyes shoot open, and before Azure can chant a single utterance of her spell, you’ve already dived from her embrace, rolled on the floor to grab your pistol and aim. Two trigger pulls. One to fire the bullet in the chamber. One to fire the bullet Azure loads for you with her magic. The black-clad assailant has no time to consider his actions before two bullets strike him. One to the chest. One to the head. As he falls over into the shards of glass, you look back to your beloved paramour,
“Guess this didn’t change that about me, huh?”
“Arshea knows that I love it when blood’s spilled. I’m glad you’re still a killer cutie. Now get over here, I’m getting hard again.”