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Andariel’s life, full of running away has led her to the outskirts of a village in Nippon. She often wanders from country to country, place to place. People - well, mainly humans - don’t like her after days or weeks or months, years if she’s lucky. It’s not like she hurts them.
She just.. Andariel can’t stand loving just one singular person. Everyone deserves to be loved; sex can help the mind heal, love helps everyone.. she can’t help but be tempted.
She spent days sleeping in some forest near that village; passing the time via sleeping is common among infernal demons. Centuries could pass and she’d still be alive, just taking a very long nap. Her body would remain as perfect as a doll.
She woke up one day to a lot of noises in the forest; many people, by the sounds of leaves crunching under boots.
“Miss, are you alright?.. You shouldn’t be sleeping on the ground.”
A man that looked like her first husband says with a kind smile. Andariel knows her beloved is long dead; she takes the outstretched hand gently even so. Soft.. warm, loving. She missed it. She misses him.
“I.. ah.. um..”
She can’t find the right words, her throat feels clogged up. Andariel knows this man is not her love. It’s just a bit hard to convince her brain that and not to burst into tears. One woman frowns. She’s severely pale and can’t speak right..
“Are you sick, sweetheart?”
“N-No.. no. Sorry. I-I didn’t mean to.. I-I just.. um..”
She bites her tongue internally to try to focus. Her blue eyes gaze around and notice a few of them are hurt. From the demons escaping the inferno, most likely.
“Here.”
Andariel gently places her hand over one woman’s bloodied arm; soothing healing magic washes over it and stitches the wounds back together, like nothing had happened. Shocked gasps fill the forest, some of them looking in awe.
“All better.. a-anyway, I-I should go. It’s very nice to meet you all. Good day.”
She bows curtly to them and swiftly turns to leave.
“Wait, don’t leave.”
The man’s hand grabs her wrist gently; Andariel tries not to freeze up at the contact.
“.. I-I can’t..”
“At least come back with us and rest properly for a few days. You’ve helped one of us; it’s only fair we repay it.”
He insists.
-
Those few days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months.
Andariel isn’t exactly used to staying in one place for long, but.. she can’t complain exactly with her current residence. They’ve insisted she stay, plus the rest of their village is surprisingly friendly despite her status as a foreigner.
She’s guided them, healed many others. Andariel may not be a queen or a goddess, but she is quite knowledgeable about many things to help others survive. Making sure the crop harvests come in early, helping repair a few fences so animals can’t get in.. little things, but it all adds up to help people survive.
The village she’s in is highly religious - they worship the goddess Amaterasu typically. The sun goddess that sent all the demons to the Inferno.. er.. something like that..? Andariel hasn’t brushed up on Japanese religion for a while.
However, she’s noticed their types of worship are.. unique, you could say. Andariel isn’t really a nun on paper, but she was taught the ways of being one by her mother. Close enough, right?
Andariel is pretty sure them using weird rituals at night isn’t how your typical prayer session goes. The screaming wakes her up, but they’re all that kind that she doesn’t want to complain about it.
She could’ve left the moment she heard those screams, but she didn’t want to. Andariel didn’t want to run away like she always did. She finally had friends, real people, that liked her, that were in awe of her magic.
The man that looked like her late husband took a special interest in her. Normally most men dislike her friendly and talkative nature, but this one listened. He took notes, he asked questions about the world that she could answer. He read books and wrote and had inspiring dreams like any other human and she loved it. The mundane life, the ‘normalcy’ everyone dreams of escaping is her personal paradise.
Her talent of healing others was noticed and the man that looked like her late husband ‘deduced’ it must be because she was related to their goddess.
He and many others have said she was blessed. She was special. It would soon be her duty to give blessings to the most devoted members of the tiny village. She was important.
After a lifetime of shame, constantly running away from her problems and others wishing to hurt her, being treated as pure scum, all due to her blood..
She was.. someone actually important..?
That actually mattered in this wide, wonderful world?
That.. actually.. didn’t have to be alone?
Even.. even if she wasn’t ‘divine’ and it was built on a misunderstanding.. she felt needed, for once.
What gave her the right to leave, when they needed her?
-
Andariel doesn’t dream very often; she’s often dead to the world in her serene slumber. Tonight, however, she can feel the footsteps creeping closer; the hairs on her arms stand up while a feeling of dread gnaws into her - When she jolts awake, when the hands carrying her feel too real to be imaginary,
She can’t move much. Wait.. Why can’t she move? Andariel’s eyes flicker open slowly as she’s wondering where she is. It’s night. She’s near some temple, on an altar. Her limbs feel stiff and heavy; her throat feels like razor blades have been shoved down it, as if she’s almost drowned but recovered at the very last second.
“Oh, she’s awake!”
One voice - Meri, she remembers - exclaims. Others look at her. Staring. She tries to recall names, faces, anything; her head hurts and everything blurs at the edges. Why are they staring at her? Did she do something wrong? She can’t remember.
“..’m naked..?”
She wonders; as she’s pretty sure that’s not a good thing to be. She should not be naked in front of this many people, she’s meant to be a proper lady who has manners and dresses accordingly. But the man that looks like her husband just smiles his handsome smile and runs his thumb soothingly along her cheekbone.
“We know. It’s alright, Andariel. Clothing would just dull your connection to the divine.”
“…’m.. ‘m not..”
She tries to explain. Her throat burns and she can’t move her head. She isn’t a divine being. If they knew what she truly was, they’d burn her at the stake. Hurt her. Hate her. Abandon her. Tears stream down her face out of fear. Fear of.. what, exactly?.. She doesn’t know. She can’t remember. His gentle hand wipes the tears away.
“..Oneiros..”
The name bleeds out her mouth; her hands futilely reach out for the man she loves before chains rattle and he gently shushes her.
She knows her handsome friend isn’t actually her former husband. But he looks so much like him; the many drugs coursing through her veins don’t help either. She smiles at his likeness, allowing herself to relax a tiny bit and her blue eyes to flutter closed.
Ah yes, Oneiros.. She loves her husband so much. Very much. His beautiful black hair and black eyes, his toned abs, his love of literature and poetry.. Andariel isn’t scared when she’s near him. It’ll all be okay.
“…Bless us, O Amaterasu, in granting our beloved divine saviour Your Grace to guide us. In humble accordance, we doth anoint this vessel, and pray that You bestow upon her Your knowledge and Your guidance.”
Her eyes open and she forces herself to suck her breath back in. He’s naked, sporting a massive hard-on beneath his robes at her eye level. The night sky behind him is rather beautiful.
The other villagers are there. Some with robes on, some not; some pleasuring themselves to her body and others just content with watching.
Hey.. when she thinks about it.. in those very small, tiny, minuscule moments when clarity comes back to her drugged mind..
What the fuck is actually going on?
“..We offer you this tribute, in the name of Your love. Through me, Your humble servant, may You feel her devotion and bless her.”
Maybe she can just sleep this off. Yes. This is just some creepy nightmare she has to just sleep through. That’s all it ever could be. It has to be a nightmare, right? It must. Her friends would never hurt her.
She tries to close her eyes again but she can’t. Her head is thinking too fast, going a mile an minute and wondering what the fuck is happening, not that she blames herself.
She tries to open her mouth to ask what this ceremony is even for, as.. she’s pretty sure a ceremony like this should not have her be naked, especially if it’s in honour of a goddess she doesn’t know much about, especially so then.
Except all that leaves her mouth is a sharp and sudden scream of agony, from the searing pain as the man enters her roughly.
It burns, like her aching throat but so, so much worse on her sensitive, fleshy cunt. The stretch is unbearable and he’s too big, he hasn’t even bothered to lube himself up so it’s extra sharp and rough and it hurts it hurts it hurts
Andariel thrashes but she cannot move, weakened by whatever drugs are in her blood and spread open on this cold stone slab. She hadn’t noticed until now, too focused on her husband’s warmth and smile. She hadn’t noticed how uncomfortable and horrible it is to be so open and vulnerable. So, so vulnerable. She’s utterly helpless. She’s utterly useless. As always.
“O..Oneiros.. S..Save me.. help me..!”
Andariel can’t help but plead deliriously. She doesn’t want to remember how horrible this world is. Why.. why does every human hate her or hurt her..?! She can’t understand. She doesn’t want to. She’s.. she’s scared.. Someone..!
“Andariel.. Andariel, sweetheart; look at me. You’re safe here. The pain is only temporary. You will endure. You have- Ngh~- helped us so much.. loved us all, so much.. that you- Aahn~.. T-Truly deserve the goddess’ holy blessing to guide all of us~..”
He says gently despite the searing pain of his thick shaft sawing in and out of her. Her eyes manage to gaze past his face.
The stretch hurts less, though it still burns. She can smell her own blood, mixed with all the incense in the air, from the violence of their coupling mixing with the pulsing in her ears.
She has to.. tell them. Somehow. Get them to stop. She isn’t a divine saviour. She wishes she was. How can she.. prove it..?
Her eyes glaze over but soon they see. They see the entrance to the forest she was sleeping in. A little far, but close enough if she made a break for it. She’ll just lightly scratch him. Yes.. then they’ll see..
The spring snaps.
And so does the man’s neck, after her hands grab him close and just twiiist as slowly as she can to break it. His screams of terror causes her to be more wet than his own attempt at fucking her.
And so do the villagers that were near him who each recieve snapped, broken limbs so they cannot grab her or pin her down or do worse.
Andariel immediately takes off running. The searing pain doesn’t matter. The aching throat that can barely get a word out, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but her running for her life.
“..Sorry.”
She doesn’t know who she’s saying that to. But she thinks, if she says that, it may mean something. Anything. To dull the sharpened and renewed guilt in her heart.
-
What happens when you bring a being to the brink of despair?
You ‘invite’ infernal demons to the ‘ground world’.
In this particular case, the bored Aym found herself abusing a loophole or two to crawl out of the depths, mere hours after. Usually she needs buckets filled of blood, practically, to be summoned normally. Human affairs bore her the most but those related to the royal family took her interest.
“…how hideous.”
She spits out. Carnal pleasures are beneath her. These creatures who died in the throes of intercourse disgust her the most. Such depraved beasts deserve worse fates than a broken neck and limbs.
Other humans crawl out of the bloodied mess. They notice her. Aym is prepared to cover for her great-niece, mainly as she loves taking credit for any murder; only for her to blink in pure confusion as those survivors,
They just.. bow at her feet. Terrified. All of them. Aym, truthfully, is at a bit of a loss for words.
. . . What the hell is this?
“Oh, divine saviour, you’ve returned to us!”
“We were so worried you’d run away for good!”
“I-It’s a blessed sign!”
“…hm? You are mistaken. I am not a ‘divine saviour’. Quite the opposite.”
They’re clinging to her uniform’s lower half like children. Or lost puppies. Take your pick. Whatever is more pathetic.
She has to force herself not to violently kick them off and just gently, humanely, shake her foot to try to nudge them off. Ew. Ew. Ew. Eww, get it off!! They’ve - potentially - got germs. Not that she can get sick, she’s a bit of a clean-freak.
“..forgive us, divine saviour..! We- We had no idea you would react that way..!”
“We just wanted to show you our devotion!”
“To give you the goddess’ blessing; forgive us..!”
They’re quite literally kissing her boots. Aym hates to admit that she’s a little bit aroused by that. Humans never bother to show her such reverence. At all.
“. . . You all have learned your lesson. For surviving such a bloodbath.. I suppose I can bother to stick around for a little while.”
Aym is not really an expert at this ‘cult’ leading thing. Her mother, Sheba, had one. But she’s a fast learner, she’ll gladly experiment with this lot of fools.