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Author Topic: Tis the season  (Read 295 times)

Description: Garen & Jolie; NSFW

Offline Lyoshka no Ariake

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Tis the season
« on: Dec 21, 17, 01:54:13 AM »
As Lady Casimir had predicted, his harms were done away with before Jolie and Lyoshka embarked on their last trip the next day. It was good to look in a mirror and lack bruises, though he almost missed the hardness of visage they'd given him. Without something to render him dangerous-looking, he was once again relying only on the cheekbones that poked through his baby-fat cheeks. As the evening before had passed, Jolie had become more and more nervous, her attention and her hands jittering wildly from one topic of discussion to another, cleaning things just to have something to do.

Lyoshka supposed he had nerves, but nothing like Jolie's. He had come to terms with being owned. Though Jolie and Lady Casimir both had promised he would suffer, it seemed like a distant future. In a patient, he would've called this strange feeling of emptiness shock, but he didn't feel shocked. It only felt inevitable. Like he'd started on a path weeks ago, the moment he'd opened the door to the Summer-sky woman and her injuries, and this was the natural result. As sure as skin would eventually knit back together, he was going to end up here, watching Jolie pace from wall to wall. Waiting for it to be time to go.

He supposed, in the end, he had the spell within his barriers to protect him. If it was as bad as she said, then he would have somewhere to retreat to. Having spoken to Lady Casimir, Lyoshka had even less reason to doubt Jolie's veracity. Eventually, she fell asleep, but Lyoshka sat up the whole night.

The dawn came too soon. Where the night had passed slowly, the morning seemed to tear away from him before he could really absorb what was happening. The house that Jolie took him to was massive. The roof was almost the right shape, but the materials were strange, the disparate window-styles distasteful. Not that Lyoshka had much time to look, with Jolie walking as fast as she was.

He'd be there soon, the man that Jolie had recruited Lyoshka to destroy. Lyo wasn't sure how he felt about that. In the end, it didn't matter: he was out of time.

Offline Garen L'Voide

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #1 on: Dec 23, 17, 11:43:36 AM »
Garen's Estate had been built within the last five years just outside of Bidea. It was close enough to make any trips to Court on a mild investment of time, but far enough to assure he could be free of the scent of garbage and desperation. The huge manor had a long path of brick that looked like burnished gold that was beneath a sprawling pool and fountain. Sparkling, crystal blue water flowed along the garden into a lower pool. All along them groundsworkers moved to trim the trees and bushes to give it the most picturesque of appearances. Each worker bore a collar around their throat of either silver or gold, inlaid intricate patterns made unique to each laborer.

Garen was, for once, not in his usual tacky attire but in a navy blue with a simple white undershirt. It was well made and fit him well, but lacked the garish qualities that he usually leant toward when chosing out his suit. He sat on a large, plush couch beneath several umbrellas in an area set to the west of the main entrance. There were several slaves in attendence nearby him, most notably was the intimidating looking Raejian Tymeon, Garen's longest serving slave and his right hand man. The Green Jeweled Prince stood vigil over Garen, though the men were about equal height and gazed over at the approaching Lyoshka and Jolie with clear contempt.

Garen didn't look up right away. Currently he was bouncing a young girl with pigtails and bright brown eyes upon his knee. She bore the psychic scent of a Queen, and Garen gently ran his fingers across her hair with a bright smile as he looked to her as if she were the only thing in this world.

Natasha, Garen's primary consort and majordomo, was sitting next to him, a hand on his knee and the other on the back of the young girl, her daughter. She looked up toward Jolie with cooler contempt than Tymeon, and both she and the Raejian bore collars around their throats. Notably, both of them had their Jewels present and were adorned in attire and jewelry that was equal to Garen's apparent wealth, if not greater.

The Golden Prince looked up slowly at the approaching pair, the grin he'd been wearing for his little Queen fading as business made its way toward his seat. "Tasha, go ahead and take her inside. I'll be along." He turned toward the little Queen, smiling widely as he leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead. "Daddy'll be along soon, love." He whispered to his daughter, releasing her as Tasha lifted her daughter up, shot Jolie with a look that somehow combined arrogance and disgust in a single mute stare, and then headed into the massive mansion.

Tymeon did not move.

"Jolie." Garen turned to her, his bright and genuine smile fading into only an amused smirk, his hands settling on his knees. "You're certainly getting into more exotic company. Who's your friend? She looks Tacean." He turned his eyes toward Lyoshka then, cold gray eyes holding a dark interest.

"How long have you had that collar around your throat?"




Offline Jolie Dion

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #2 on: Jan 04, 18, 10:47:07 PM »
Stray from the faithful path of her mother though she had Jolie still kept some things sacred and Winsol was among their ranks. For the season she wore a blouse and skirt of crisp white which she paired with cranberry red heels. Her hair was arranged in a side falling braid woven with gems styled to mimic winter flowers. The timing of offering Lyoshka in sacrifice when all thoughts turned to want, wish and Witch, wasn’t lost on her. It kept her up until at last she lay down and found only nightmares of her childhood in L’Voide’s home when she slept. The morning came and with it cold dread, sick determination, and her unwavering surety of her survival. It was everyone else caught up in her schemes for who she worried.

Houses burned. Hearths persisted.

Former slave and current readied in uncommon quiet and they rode in the same. Something had shifted in Jolie since their meeting with Lady Casimir, the Black Widow with whom she shared an uncomfortable alliance. The nerves of the day prior were gone and in their place steely resolve keeping inconvenient guilt buried far beneath the weight of her purpose. She couldn’t give the Pissing Prince and his putrid motley the slightest hint of her true design. For herself, from the old long lived woman who was not quite a friend, she procured herself wards meant to keep her inner barriers held fast and her thoughts private. Its design was subtle and such that anyone inspecting her thoughts who wasn’t of the Hourglass would believe themselves able to access her conscious mind freely while all the while her most important secrets were kept hidden.

As she and the Tacean soon to become part of L’Voide’s house of horrors traveled, Jolie half prayed for some kind of awful accident to keep them from ever meeting Lyoshka’s fate and her past’s demons. What would a man like that do with power like Lyoshka’s eventual descent at his command? Would the world be better off if they both died instead? Dark thoughts and nothing else consumed the courtesan until the slaver’s new estate came into sight. Her somber demeanor was transfigured for after all it should’ve been a happy day. In the trade of the Healer’s control ring her mother would be free.

Helene would likely never forgive her daughter for the lives stained by brutality for her liberation but it didn’t matter to Jolie. Her mother wouldn’t die under Garen’s fucking cursed roof.

Through the perverse Prince’s halls Jolie moved with a confidant stride and the delicate but unmistakable pride of a woman near a deal’s completion. She wasn’t certain Garen wasn’t going to fuck her over but the terms of their amended contract were very thorough. When it came down to it if he’d found a way to spoil her victory she’d rather be eventually surprised than approach him and his monsters anything close to meek.

Tymeon’s hateful stare was the first she met and as always it made her truly smile. There was something sweet about being hated by those twisted enough to be treasures of cruelty in Garen’s arsenal of abominations. The joyous manner for which she’d been named bloomed further as it was met by Natasha’s s distaste ridden stare. Lady Dion beamed even while thinking the child Queen that bounced on Garen’s lap would’ve been better off strangled in her crib than raised by his hand. She felt and masked behind practiced pleasantry a cold, familiar fear as Garen’s gaze left his daughter and found her. Jolie wanted to toss Lyoshka’s control ring in his face, demand her mother, and be done with it but the Pissing Prince never made things so easy. He liked to couch his cruelty in showmanship he’d not be denied a chance to exercise.

Instead of doing what she wished, she played along and veritably preened when asked about the Healer’s origins. Garen knew he made her skin crawl, he knew more than most what she’d done to steal her freedom so he knew how much she hated him and so he liked it when she forced herself to act swayed by his charms like so many pretty things too stupid, greedy or heartless themselves to be frightened off by the wealthy Prince’s games.

“She’s called Lyoshka, I don’t know if that’s her first or last name but she’s missing one of the two,” Jolie explained taking a seat across from her former master. Her legs were crossed in such a way that he might take liberties with her flesh easily should he so desire. The Prince was varied as he was creative in the ways he displayed his penchant for humiliation and part of their dance was for the not entirely free Hearth Witch to play along. When Garen’s question directed towards Lyoshka fell Jolie loosed a disappointed huff. “That’s the rub with this one, doesn’t talk. To your point she's been wearing it a bit, by the marks she was sporting before I got her cleaned up I’d say no more than two months.” Jolie’s estimate was vague but not too far from the truth of things. By the time she escaped Garen’s grip she’d been a teenager and therefore had watched more than one soul go through the process of being broken into their new place as property in his home.

Going on without missing a beat Jolie did her best to turn pleasing the sour note she’d anticipated. “I think, or at least I hope you can look past her inability to scream for you in light of the Red Jewel she calls her Birthright.”  In the same breath she looked away from the Healer towards his owner to be and asked a question of her own, “Where’s my mother?”


The contract signed between them had been very specific. No exchange would take place unless proof of Helene’s presence, safety and imminent freedom, was provided.

Offline Lyoshka no Ariake

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #3 on: Jan 05, 18, 12:27:58 AM »
Lyoshka, used to the fine houses of the Tacean elite, didn't drag his feet as the little party was led to Prince L'Voide, but he wasn't looking directly ahead of him either. He somehow doubted everything in this palatial gardens had been acquired by legitimate means, but it wasn't ever going to be his place to say. When he was done here, Garen L'Voide would be dead, and Lyoshka would... He would find something to do with himself. Go somewhere, anywhere, else, never go back to Tacea, never do anything he didn't want to do again--but down that path lay dereliction of his duties. He wore the Red, and that meant... It meant something, but nothing good for him.

He stopped behind Jolie, even though he outranked her by every possible metric. What did Protocol matter when one had a collar around one's neck? The Green-Jeweled Prince behind Garen looked a lot like one of the men who'd held Lyoshka in the slave pits, and he didn't look at him long. The little Queen wasn't interesting to him; he was here to kill her father, and if he thought on it too long he might lose his nerve. This wasn't the right thing to do, was it? He didn't meet Garen's gaze, though he wanted to. It was one of things that Jolie had told him the night before as she obsessed. The Yellow-Jeweled Prince didn't like defiance.

Still, he winced at being referred to as she. It had been nice to be addressed as a male for those weeks with Jolie, but now that time was over and things were only going to get worse. She'd said so, Casimir had said so, and there was no reason for him to disbelieve them.

At least Jolie respected his silence enough to answer for him. The lie about having no voice would be proven in relatively short order. Activating the collar was always enough to make Lyoshka scream. In the meantime, he'd let Jolie and Garen do the talking.

Offline Garen L'Voide

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #4 on: Jan 05, 18, 12:23:56 PM »
Garen had sat patiently as the not-so-free whore before him walked around and acted like the highest level of Lady in the damn fucking Territory. Jolie was a funny little bird. He thought highly of her cunning and her ruthlessness, but held her in contempt for the fact that she thought that she was better than him by any measure.

The creature behind Jolie was a mystery, but she was the bounty that had been brought along by his pet recruiter. The Tacean was a little butch and roughened up, but Garen's cold gaze washed over her with an enterprising eye as he considered just what she might be worth. As Jolie sat and flashed her legs, the slaver's gaze shifted toward Jolie instead as his attention was rearrested. He considered, briefly, making use of her one more time. She was still a pretty thing, and that too drew out respect and contempt (for really, no-one had ever earned Garen's complete respect, there was too much loathin in the man for anything to be entirely pure). Her words, however, may have given her the unique pleasure of having his eyes go wide and his jaw open in a measure of surprise.

A Healer with a Red Birthright.

Garen was stunned. What Jolie had brought him was by far the best bounty possible. The rarest of Castes in Dena Nehele, with a fucking RED BIRTHRIGHT. She would descend to at least the Gray, if not the fucking Black, and she was a fucking child that he could mold as he saw fit!

The Slaver's shocked silence only lasted a moment before his mind whirred in thought. He snapped several times in the air. "Bring her out." He said quickly, his mind buzzing with ideas and thoughts. This Tacean was worth more than Riley's whole fucking Court. It would put a larger target on him, but he could levy his new pet's power to any manner of ends.

"A Red Birthright Healer." Garen let out a slow whistle, shaking his head as he gave out a laugh. "If you had started with her, you'd probably have been out of hock. Night, Jolie. You know how to impress." Another laugh, as he was deeply amused by just what the Rose-Jeweled Hearth Witch had pulled off.

Her mother was brought out in short order by a pair of servants; some of Tymeon's guards for the estate. Garen's home had grown in security the last few months. She still lacked a hand, but the rest of Jolie's mother was in good order and she looked to be well cared for.

"As we agreed." He extended his hand up toward Tymeon without taking his eyes away from the woman he was negotiating with. The Raejian placed Helene's Control Ring into his possession. The Yellow Prince extended it toward Jolie, palm up with the ring sitting in the center of his hand.

"Thirteen, the last life given. Your mother is yours to do with as you see fit." He was certain that she would just free her, but the deal had no such explicit terms.




Offline Jolie Dion

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #5 on: Jan 06, 18, 01:38:40 AM »
Hubris, Garen was fool for it like he was nothing but money and now, his daughter Queen. Jolie wondered if the girl could be played against him before the better parts of her soul dismissed it (with no small amount of inner counter-protest) as even a theoretical option. His daughter would be spared her vengeance and be saved from the parents sure to raise her a monster. No child’s fate should hang by the whims of the Pissing Prince and his right hand bitch. Even if his love for the girl was somehow pure, nothing else about him ever was or would be. One Queenling having a father and mother couldn’t be more important than sparing Dena Nehele their schemes.

L’Voide’s jaw hung open and she felt, but concealed the triumph she felt. He’d be angry later when Lyoshka screamed. The Hearth Witch hoped the Healer made him sweat for his pain. What tattered scraps of her heart remained faithful to the old ways she’d learned on her Priestess mother’s knee believed she and the Tacean had found each other for reasons beyond convenience. Need gone mad with furious desperation drew them together. Somehow their destinies shared notes from the same dream. Everything had a price.

Thirteen souls sacrificed would be a lot to take down every other man, but few devils walked the Realms as entrenched, reviled and unstoppable as Garen L’Voide. Thirteen Jewels of Dark descent, one of Birthright unmatched in the Territory who might leave his offering a shadow of the myth for which they all danced.

If you had started with her, you'd probably have been out of hock. Night, Jolie. You know how to impress. Exclaimed the shocked, unusually complementary and more than slightly jovial, Prince. His joy had been anticipated, his unabashed revelling in it less so. She concealed the irritation at his jibe as if Lyoshka had been some card she’d held back only on the childish notion of saving the best for last. Everything Garen said, even when he did his imitation of genial, made her want to slap him in the face with a knife. All the men she’d ever met, and in her line of work she’d met some true champions of the barrel’s bottom, only L’Voide made her feel murderous. It was a messy feeling and she’d be glad when his stain came clean off the mortal coil.

Forgotten was her fury at the sight of Helene Dion, Dark Jeweled Priestess of the Blood and her mother, entering the room. She was whole, save for the hand lost over a decade prior, and her gaze would not meet her daughter’s. Jolie had sworn she wouldn’t cry and it was a promise she kept to herself. Her untouched, bubbly facade wavered only in the way her hand trembled as she took the Ring from Garen’s palm while simultaneously extending a black velvet box that, opened by a whisp of White Jeweled Craft, revealed Lyoshka’s control ring.

Helene didn’t move right away first she watched. The only person in the room whose stare she’d meet was the silent Tacean, the man whose enslavement was her unasked for freedom’s catalyst. She’d begged her daughter to let her life run its course and grew more and more distant with Jolie after every new soul she brought to Garen’s door. There’d been no talking to the girl and there had never been once her mind was set to something. Jolie had the devil’s tenacity and his winsome smile.

The Hearth Witch who’d proven to be more resourceful than anyone (save Helene) expected sat back down and gave off every appearance that her mother’s frigid reception of liberation was no matter worth note. She sat back down and crossed her legs the ring of control clenched tightly in her grip. Helene crossed the room and sat beside the daughter at whom she wouldn’t look directly. Only then did Jolie’s hold on the precious item in her grasp release to place the ring on her mother’s lap. It was a far cry from anyone’s idea of a happy reunion. Jolie championed on and tilted her head curiously while looking Garen’s way. It helped refuse the urge to look back and check on Lyoshka. She reminded herself she didn’t get to feel bad about his plight, she’d put him there. 

Letting the Prince see when you cared about something was always a mistake so she focused on business and let her eyes purposefully flicker to the antique clock hanging on the wall behind the estate’s master.  “Jewels next then?” Telegraphing her impatience Jolie hoped that her enemy’s excitement would have him too eager to see his prize to take issue with her unconcealed desire to be far away from him and his as the winds and the coach awaiting them would allow. 

Offline Garen L'Voide

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #6 on: Jan 06, 18, 02:34:27 PM »
Jolie was itchy. Nervous. Garen could tell by the way her eyes were moving; the way she kept trying to hurry this along. Granted, part of that was because he knew she hated him, but he also knew that if she wanted to fuck him over one last time now that she had her mother this would be an apt opportunity. Hand him an 'enslaved' Red Birthright Healer and that tantalizing prospect might be just the way for Jolie to kill him.

Garen had not just survived, but thrived by being wily, cautious, and ruthless.

"In a rush, Jolie?" He asked with a teasing quality to his question. He lifted the Control Ring that Jolie had given him for 'Lyoshka' and handed it over to Tymeon. His head slave could handle the Obedience Collars just as well as Garen could. But the Green Jeweled Warlord did not affix the object on his hand yet. The servant that had brought Jolie's mother stepped forward to take the ring from Tymeon, then disappeared into the house.

He'd not purchased a Sapphire Black Widow by happenstance; such purchases were insurance policies.

"I think you deserve something a little extra, Jolie. You've done great work." The servant returned after a minute or so, Leona threading to Garen that the ring checked out, and he allowed a much broader, genuine smile as the servant returned with the ring and an envelope that looked thick.

Sliding the ring onto his hand, he infused it with his Yellow and felt it snap into place. He could feel all of Lyoshka's connection to himself, a psychic accounting of her body in its current condition. Garen had used the rings for decades and knew how to take stock of every nerve, muscle, and bone. He was able to, with a thought, sense the health of his slaves so that he knew when they were near expiring or in great duress. All the better to play with the edges of what they could survive.

He rolled his wrist, the ring feeling natural on a finger that hadn't born a ring until now. Later he might combine it with others, as he did with many of his slaves. But he might keep Lyoshka's separate, he hadn't decided. "Have a seat, Lyoshka. I'm sure she's been making you walk everywhere. Tymeon, let's get some food and water out here for our new house member; she's probably hungry, what with that Jewel of hers." Garen allowed a slow, almost kind smile toward the Tacean, but only a moment of one as he turned toward Jolie directly.

He summoned Helene's Jewels then, offering them toward the Rose Jeweled whore. In the other hand, he offered an envelope.

"Your bonus, Jolie. A million marks." It was enough to become rich for the rest of her days with the poverty stricken Dena Nehele. To Garen, it was a minor offering for the major boon she had given him. Yes, Garen probably didn't have to give her anything. He'd made more than enough off Jolie. But she was smart, and she was cunning, and while a buyout wouldn't make her like him, down deep Jolie Dion was a greedy, self-serving creature. For all the self-righteousness she'd offered, she didn't have a conscience for the lives she'd signed away.

He saw some of himself in her; likely projected, of course. But nonetheless, the blood money could go a long way toward making sure a potential asset was not completely wasted.

"Feel free to come back here if you're looking for another payout. Or maybe a Court position; I'm sure Riley could use a woman like you to do the dirty work she's not willing to do herself."

Because unlike Riley or most of her idealistic dogs, Garen and Jolie were creatures of the miserable, cruel, real world.




Offline Jolie Dion

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #7 on: Jan 06, 18, 09:53:44 PM »
In a Rush Jolie?” Asked the man she’d been born to hate. In response she shrugged as if to say, what do you think?’ However what she said was, “Having me linger costs extra in my business, Prince.” Garen was right. Jolie was absolutely planning something but she wasn’t in any rush. When it came to her design, the Hearth Witch had her eyes on the long game. She wasn’t just after Garen’s death she wanted his legacy, Natasha’s imprisonment, and his daughter to be raised knowing exactly what sort of monsters tried to shape her.

Prince L’Voide continued to quip. The Hearth Witch, who made her living convincing men like Garen she was interested and charmed, feigned newfound patience and a passing self-serving interest in whatever bonus he felt she deserved. Jolie wanted nothing to do with Garen, no ties or exchanges that could make it easier for him to force her back under his thumb. She didn’t want his fucking money, but she knew thirteen souls that couldn’t afford her refusing based on pride.

They were marks she could use to make her sins right; so, disgust her as it did it was money she’d take. The servant she didn’t recognize returned with Lyoshka’s ring and a thick envelope. Jolie watched as a gleeful Garen took control of the cursed item forged of blasphemous Craft.

Helene watched as well but there was nothing performative about her bearing. She sat rigid, cold of demeanor, and hard of face. More than half her life she’d spent in subjugation, at her slaveries end she would exit with all the grace her Dark Jeweled soul of faith possessed. Piercing eyes studied L’Voide with the unmasked hatred of a woman blessed to know what souls would join the abyss and which would suffer in Hell. Her glare left no question as to which would welcome Garen when his violent end came.

A show was made of Lyoshka’s transfer into the house’s fold. Only after it was inferred that the Healer would be somehow better off in Garen’s care than the courtesean’s was the tidying up of their contract attended to. Jolie took the jewels, she took the marks, and she pointedly avoided catching glimpse of her mother’s expression all the while. She knew the shame and disappointment Helene held for her ruthless pursuit of her freedom. Without looking back she passed the beautifully set Purple Dusk and Green conduit’s of Darkness into her mother’s lap. The money she vanished with a smile.

“Generous as always, Prince.” The compliment was sarcastic, as was all feigned kindness between L’Voide and the whore who ran away. “But I wasn’t so thorough in our contract’s drafting because I had interest in further dealings. This is it for us, for me in Dena Nehele. I’m done.”

Reaching into her cabinet she called forth the box containing Lyoshka’s Red and used again her White’s strength to send the last bit of business left between them towards Garen. He was, in ways that made her feel sick, the closest thing she’d known to a father. What the slaver saw in her that fed his pride? Jolie believed to be the worst of her soul. She was stained in ways that could not be undone because of her childhood in his shadow. When she bothered to pray, the former slave did so for the hope she might not hurt anyone unwilling with the strange, sharp yearnings of her heart. There was evil in her, she saw it every time she looked in the mirror to make the face it wore prettier than the sum of its sins. Jolie would never be good, not after what she’d done, but she was determined to do good, which was all any true villain seeking redemption could hope for.


After rising to take her leave, Jolie looked back at the mother she’d damned so many to save. “Come on, We’ve concluded our business with Prince L'Voide.”  She spoke the lie with perfect confident determination. It was easy to believe she’d never want to see Garen or his palace of monstrous debauchery ever again so it was an easy line to sell. Without further fanfare of flourish she began her exit. Though she rose, Helene didn’t immediately follow. First she studied Lyoshka in silence and then the cold weight of her attention settled on Garen and Tymeon. “May Mother grant you both all beneath her skies that you deserve.”  At that she turned and left. Ignoring any words or jabs volleyed her way, the Priestess pulled her Green necklace and her ring of Purple Dusk from the box where they’d been kept. One of L’Voide’s servants would later find the box forgotten in the middle of the corridor.

The Dion women were finished playing The Pissing Prince’s games; the time had come for their rules to reign. Garen would savor his momentary triumph but they would know the bounty of the final Blood Price. They had to because Jolie was betting what salvation she could earn on the gamble. 

Offline Lyoshka no Ariake

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #8 on: Jan 07, 18, 12:53:50 AM »
Lyoshka was used to people being impressed by his birthright. At nineteen, he was so inured to it that it surprised him to feel discomfort at Garen's delight. He shifted from one foot to the other, a lapse of poise that would've made his mother scowl with irritation. She would've pronounced it classless. Why bother thinking of her now, he wondered, when he was... where he was. Lyoshka looked away, to the nearest thing offering distraction, which turned out to be a flower bed. Even that looked different to what he was used to. He tried to think of how Jolie's mother was free now because of him, but even that was bitter on the tongue. Odd. He could usually be counted on to soothe himself with self-sacrifice.

He sat as bid, even this an uncomfortable difference. Shalador had had the same chairs, but there it had been understood when he'd been more comfortable in a cushion on the floor. Rooms looked so cluttered with chairs and the tall tables that required them. He didn't like it. Luckily they were outside, for now, and the open sky soothed him.

Jolie got a bonus: a million marks. There were aristo houses in Tacea, places known for their luxury, that grossed not even a twentieth of that every year. He knew this because his mother had often spoken of it, a cool bitterness in her voice because she aspired to that level of wealth. This man gave that money away as a... a bonus, a pittance, when there were so many who needed it more. Lyoshka wouldn't have known what to say even if he was talking; he was glad for the temporary ruse.

And then she summoned the Red to her hand, and Lyoshka needed his Jewels with such ferocity in that moment that he was surprised when they didn't divert from their path to land in his hands. In the slave pits, he'd learned that the men and women wearing control rings could sense the use of Craft, and so he didn't dare take the risk of pulling the Jewels towards him. It tempted him, though. The impulse to destroy everything around him was a distraction in that moment. Just end all of this awful charade, this graceless garden, even the Queen that Garen had held on his knees as they had approached.

He gave no sign he'd heard Jolie's farewell, but he glanced over his shoulder at Helene for just a moment. She'd better appreciate what his blood had bought her--but he had no way of saying one way or another.

The two women departed, leaving Lyoshka alone with Garen and the huge Green-Jeweled... manservant? Lyoshka couldn't say one way or another.

Offline Garen L'Voide

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #9 on: Jan 07, 18, 10:52:14 AM »
*As a note, while Lyoshka identifies as male, Garen does not respect that identity and will always refer to him as female in posts and reference.



Garen sat there on his plush seat, enjoying the sunlight on his face and the shape of Jolie Dion walking away. His eyes watched her as her shape disappeared down the path with Helene who'd thrown her bitter words at him. Jolie's lack of gratitude didn't surprise him. Irritated him, but it didn't surprise him. He tapped his jaw idly with his fingertips, one of them heavier with Lyoshka's Control Ring as he held the young Healer's Red in the other. More power in his hand than he could ever personally fathom and much more to come. That potential felt heavy. It wasn't a weight he was fully accustomed to, but he would in time.

Jolie and her crippled mother were a thing of the past, now, and this weighty matter was what to consider for the future. His eyes turned to Lyoshka then, though the rest of his face didn't. Just his eyes as he looked over this skinny androgynous Tacean who might potentially have the power to level the whole fucking Territory before she reached even half his age. All of his work and his efforts could be gone in a thought. All Riley's savior bullshit, all the Guilds, the aristos, everything just.. gone.

He vanished the Red and slowly rearranged himself. She sat in silence. Jolie had said the girl couldn't talk, but he never took what Jolie said at face value. He had raised her, after all.

"They didn't feed you much in Raej, did they." It wasn't really a question. Garen could see it with his own eyes. A servant arrived, as if on cue, and set out severan plates of hearty, native faire on the table that was also brought out and placed before Lyoshka. Meat, cheese, bread, fruit, a soup, and even a small cake. A fork and knife were set, as well as a pitcher of water, a bottle of wine, and a cup for each. Garen gestured and one of the servants remained to pour each one for the Red Jeweled Healer, then moved to hover nearby.

"So Jolie says you can't talk." Garen leaned forward then, rose his hand up and gestured to the other that held the Control Ring.

"Is that true?"




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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #10 on: Jan 12, 18, 03:16:39 AM »
Lyoshka wished Garen would put the Red away. Every second it remained where he could reach it was a second too long, too much temptation. For Jolie's plan to work and for Lyoshka to win his freedom, he had to get access to the control rings worn on Garen's other hand... on the hand of the dark Prince behind him. Mother Night, the things were everywhere; he had seen so many collars and they'd only met a few people. How was he ever supposed to get to them all? Did it even matter, as long as Garen was dead on the other end? Surely the spells would break if the man they were all tied to died. But these collars were unknown in Tacea, and honestly Lyoshka wouldn't have known what to do even if their positions were reversed. Probably he would've already released the poor collared fool. Such salvation was not forthcoming for him, unfortunately. There were so many slaves on the estate. One more wouldn't change a thing.

He eyed the food set before him with narrowed eyes and a slight frown on his face; he had been warned to suspect anything. Casimir and Jolie had both assured him that Garen would do awful things, but even when they explained the shape that such awful things might take, they'd only done it to forearm him. There was no way for Lyoshka to be prepared and no way to know if whatever Garen was going to do would succeed. Maybe he'd fail at this whole enterprise. Maybe... He hoped not, but maybe.

His hands remained folded in his lap, but there was no doubt that Lyoshka was fully aware of Garen's every action. When Garen lifted the hand wearing the control ring, Lyoshka's black eyes followed it: he understood the implicit threat there. Whatever answer he gave, whatever answer he didn't give, would be tested with the ring. That was what he took from the gesture. It was tempting, incredibly tempting, to open his mouth and say Jolie was a liar. It wouldn't hurt her. Revealing the deception might even earn points in Garen's book, if such a thing could be done. But it might also brand Lyoshka as someone with no loyalty... though why anyone would expect a man to be faithful to someone who had literally held him in slavery was quite beyond Lyoshka. Garen seemed like the type, though.

In the end, he looked down to the food he wasn't touching, and picked at the collar around his throat with his nails.

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #11 on: Jan 12, 18, 11:37:39 AM »
Garen watched with sharp gray eyes as Lyoshka didn't answer his question. He tapped his fingers against his cheek, gently strumming a tune only he could hear with the rings clicking gently against one another that controlled the lives of dozens of people at once. "Not even a psychic thread. Not even an attempt. Fascinating." He said softly, more to himself than for the slave before him. "So you're either stupid, or you're thinking that silence is going to buy you something."

He snapped his fingers to gain the Healer's attention from the plate he'd set before her. "Do you know what this is?" He rolled his fingers before her. "It's the ultimate lie detector."

The Yellow Prince was a master at the use of the Control Ring. He had perfected it over the last twenty two years. He knew exactly how to command the sensation that the ring could put through the collar. As such the pain that came across Lyoshka was a sharp, stabbing sensation that felt like a debilitating migraine. It then shifted from that into what felt very much like she was just punched in the face by a brick.

Once he heard her voice, he knew that Jolie had told the lie and Garen sighed slowly as he eased off the pain he gave to her. "You don't owe that bitch any loyalty, Lyoshka. She is a con-artist and has betrayed friends and lovers. Did she tell you that she has fucked her way through a dozen different people and used her body to put collars around a dozen people?" He shook his head and reached out toward her plate while she regained her breath and her senses.

"Eat the food and talk to me. Tell me what brought you here. Tell me what Jolie told you. We are going to have a future together, you and I. The next few minutes are going to dictate how that goes."

He kept his fingers on the edge of the plate, making sure his eyes met her as he spoke in a slow and very deliberate manner. "You are valuable to me because of your potential. But if you can't obey a simple instruction? Then I will break you." Garen said the words simply and to the point. He didn't elucidate the methods into how. He let her extrapolate the 'how' that would come about.

But there was no hesitation in him, no sense of restraint because of the ramifications of destroying his very powerful bounty that was given to him.





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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #12 on: Jan 12, 18, 04:49:45 PM »
Stupid was more like. Self-interest had been educated out of Lyoshka a long time ago and he should have just used a psychic thread, but he hadn't. He wanted himself to himself; wanted to own himself instead of giving anyone else the right to touch the heart of him. But that was stupid, and he knew it the moment the ring came into use.

Before he had known it as an awful burning, but this was much worse. This was the third day after he'd stopped drinking coffee, the awful stabbing pain of caffeine withdrawal amplified exponentially. Lyoshka gasped, a voiced sound that he hated. His voice was raw with disuse and lower for that, but it was still so very not what he wanted it to be. He looked up from his plate at Garen even as the pain faded. Garen would break him? That sent a cold lance of fear streaking down his spine. Casimir had said otherwise, that his Red was protected, but he didn't want to find out if she was wrong. Not at the cost of his Red.

He lowered his head for a moment. "She did," he said, "sir." Eat the food and talk to this monster? To avoid the ring again, to avoid being broken, he would, but it revolted him. Woodenly, he reached for the bread first. It wasn't like bread at home, but anything would have revolted Lyoshka at the reminder of what Jolie had said he would endure here, even his most favorite foods from home.

"A woman sold me into the slave pits of Raej," he said, lowly, a dull recitation between bites. He could have told Garen about Yuki, emphasized the man had no right to the possession of Lyoshka, but he didn't want Yuki to see him like this. "I killed a man there. They were selling me cheap. Didn't kill me because of my Jewels. Lady Dion bought me. She said you were a monster, who held her mother in thrall." Jolie had wanted Lyoshka to understand her purposes, and Lyoshka did--he just disagreed--he would have left his own mother to save the lives of those thirteen souls that Garen had demanded as sacrifice. He would have left himself.

It wasn't correct. None of this was correct.

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #13 on: Jan 13, 18, 12:01:16 AM »
The Slaver Prince nodded slowly as Lyoshka revealed what he suspected; that the Healer could talk and that Jolie had lied. That Jolie had spun her same old sob story and enslaved this child and brought her to him to buy her mother back. The Tacean ate, slowly, uncertainly, and he watched her as she spoke in dull, quiet words. Was she already broken? Maybe. Jolie had told her she was being sold to the worst being ever, probably. Only because Jolie fucking Dion didn't know better.

Slowly he reached out for an apple between them and picked it up. He considered the fruit while Lyoshka said that she'd killed a man and that she would have died were it not for her bountiful potential. Wasn't that how it always worked? His thumb ran across the apple's shape and he thought over what she'd said.

"Some certainly think I am, yes." A monster. "But often it's the people who are fucked by the world that don't like how cruel it can be." Garen lifted his cold eyes up to Lyoshka.

"But the world is cruel, and it's unfair, isn't it, Lyoshka? If it were fair, neither of us would be here, in this place, now. But we don't deal in the fairy tale world -- you and I. We deal with reality.

Jolie brought people to me because she lacked a spine to risk her mother's death. Why would I feel bad for taking advantage of the fact that she would get me what I wanted as long as I held her mother over her head?

The world doesn't give a fuck if you're good or if you're evil. It doesn't care if you're a saint or you're a monster. It only cares about what you can do, and what you can take, or what you can give."


He bit into the apple, seeing if the Healer followed along with what he was saying. "You, for instance, are very valuable to me -- if you prove to be able to obey me. You seem like a quick learner, Lyoshka. You were quick on the 'Sir', I like that. So I'm going to tell you the very grim, very real realities of your situation:"

Garen leaned in slower toward her. "I am not going to set you free out of the goodness of my heart. I'm not an idiot, and you're the Darkest Jeweled Healer in Dena Nehele -- a place that has no Healers. You'll probably wear that collar until the day I die or it becomes advantageous to me to let you go.

But there's a life of suffering, like Jolie's mother had, or a life of pleasure and enjoyment, like Tymeon here has.

The former was because of disobedience, the latter because of loyalty. Do what I say, when I say, without backtalk, and you will have a good life here. Your potential deserves more accommodations than some Jeweless off the street, or even a Green Jeweled Priestess like Dion's mother."


Garen tapped his finger against the apple, and slowly Lyoshka would feel a pleasant warmth wrap through her body, the kind of soft enjoyment of a scalp massage, or a pleasant night's rest. "I'm an architect of sensation. And an architect of cruelty, if I have to. I can make you cum with a thought, or I can make you scream so bad you'll throw up your lunch at my feet. And that's just with the ring." Garen took a pause to bite into his apple, to chew, and swallow. He eased the warmth that flowed through his newest slave and leaned back into his seat.

"But there's worse things than the ring." He began again with a slow exhale, sliding one leg back. "I think you understand that, or if you haven't, Jolie's probably told you horror stories. She hasn't told you the worst, I guarantee you. But I wasn't boasting when I said I'd break you.

I have no use for a slave who doesn't obey, Lyoshka. It doesn't matter how powerful her potential can be. If I think that you're going to try and fuck me, I will fuck you first. And you will have wished that they had just killed you in Raej before you died."


Garen nodded to the food. "Do you like it?" And before she could answer, he added with a sharp undertone to his words. "Don't lie to me. I will be pissed off if you do."




Offline Lyoshka no Ariake

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #14 on: Jan 13, 18, 12:47:37 AM »
Lyoshka leaned back and away, as much as he could while obeying the directive to sit in the chair. It had a back; he couldn't go far. What Garen was saying was true, and it was truth that Lyoshka had known since he walked away from his Birthright with the Darkest of all possible Birthrights. He remembered the red stone with its bright inner fire, how it had echoed himself back at him before he'd even known who he was. His mother had celebrated for one night, and the next day there had been nothing at all of the life he'd known before. There wasn't anything like fairness or justice in the world, she said, except what Lyoshka could provide himself, using his wits and his morals and his near-godly power.

His mother had never threatened him like his. Every word out of Garen's mouth was a threat. Disobedience would bring the withdrawal-headache and the dull shock of that brick-feeling and worse, could cost him the Red. His potential strength as an adult member of the Blood turned his stomach, but the idea of losing his power... It was inconceivable. He couldn't conceive of how he would begin to understand life without his Jewel. Not for the first time, he regretted taking Jolie's offer. It would have been better to die a quick death in the slave pits than to be here, right now.

Jolie's mother, lacking a hand. Tymeon--the Green Prince--dressed in fine clothes and watching the goings-on with no more interest than a man watching paint dry. Lyoshka's dark eyes flickered back to Garen even as the pleasant sensation settled on him like a down blanket. If he'd had his Jewels, he would've been able to determine the source of the warmth. He could feel the tense muscles of his back begin to loosen, the primal urge that said I am comfortable; therefore I am safe; I should rest here. He had studied the hind-brain instinct that led men and women to die in the high reaches of mountains. Sitting here, he found himself in a situation not dissimilar to theirs.

When the sensation faded, Lyoshka exhaled, a shaky breath that he had known he was holding even as he told himself not to. Worse things than the ring. He never wanted to find out what was worse than having his entire body hijacked and used against him. Never wanted to relax in front of this man again.

Garen asked about the food, and Lyoshka realized that at some point he had finished the roll he had taken. The aftertaste in his mouth was one of salt. There was no winning with this question, he thought. He lied and Garen would be pissed off. He told the truth and Garen would be pissed off. "I don't, sir,” he said, but he didn't elaborate, because Garen hadn't asked. Was he expected to keep eating? He didn't think he could. His stomach was full to bursting of self-loathing.

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #15 on: Jan 13, 18, 12:54:20 PM »
Garen's eyes watched over Lyoshka then as she leaned back and tried to put some distance between them. That sort of distrust and fear was common when they first came to him. Some he molded out of that, others he raised it higher. To Garen there was no uniform treatment, no regimen of conditioning of the people that were enslaved to him. They all had different uses and he used different colors to paint their future.

The Red Healer before him didn't interest him sexually, so there was no driving need to despoil her in that fashion. The pretty ones, like Jolie, hadn't been so 'lucky'. But just because Garen didn't have a personal interest didn't mean it was an option he'd not use. In the end he had no restraint or remorse over the idea of raping the powerful being before him. There would likely be some thrill found in doing so, especially after her Descent.

But for now, he was exploring just who she was and how best to affect her. His statements had been more than idle boasting, and so had this whole exercise of feeding her and speaking frankly to her; everything was designed to see just who it was that was now under his control and how to further his control of her.

She said she didn't like the food and he brought his hand up to cup his chin. "Why?" He asked with no anger or hint of disapproval in his voice, just a question that was mundane and flat. He didn't lead her toward any specific reason, he wanted to see what she'd say when there wasn't a binary choice.




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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #16 on: Jan 13, 18, 03:09:19 PM »
Lyoshka didn't like talking. He didn't want to ask questions, because he'd rather not risk his Red, and who knew how far was too far to push? Any innocuous question, Jolie had warned, could be a prelude to something awful. All he knew about Garen was that he was violent and cruel and he owned slaves, something so against the pale that Lyoshka had only heard of it in history lessons, had never seen it in action, before waking up with a collar around his own throat. He found himself touching the collar again. No matter how long he wore it, he never got used to the weight.

So the question of just why Lyoshka didn't like the food was more fraught than it would seem to the casual observer. His training for court had emphasized how to avoid giving offense, but a major component of that was research. Jolie and Casimir's horror stories were not adequate, not as he'd been taught to play it; and besides, though he had always striven for excellence, he'd also been content to let Yuki or his mother take the lead. Here, he was alone.

"Tacean bread is sweeter," he said, finally. There, that wasn't a value judgement. It was... a cultural difference. And it was true, Tacean breads were desserts, steamed, sticky, and sweet. He used to carry them in his personal cabinet for snacking while traveling, shared them with Yuki and with his siblings, when he was allowed to. In Shalador, there had been flatbreads, which were interesting in their own way. And while the bread had been good, objectively, it hadn't been the comfort food he had wanted when he had picked it over the smallish winter apples or the soup or even the cake.

He missed home. Not the social aspects of it, but the culture. He missed painting and tea with Yuki and even his stupid fiancé. But this was where he was.

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #17 on: Jan 13, 18, 04:21:43 PM »
"Hmm." Garen said slowly, drawing out the sounds of consideration. "Tymeon, get us some of the pie from the kitchen and have it brought out for our new slave here." The Prince didn't shy away from using the word, not holding a concern if it bothered her. The Raejian seemed to nod in agreement, but there were no further words or actions as Garen sat there.

"You didn't grow up poor, did you?" The Slaver said slowly as he bit into his apple, chewing lightly as he watched the Tacean's response.




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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #18 on: Jan 13, 18, 04:45:05 PM »
Garen's apparently kindness wasn't read that way by Lyoshka. The Yellow-Jeweled Prince was protecting a sizable investment (a million marks!) by making sure Lyoshka ate. Lyoshka's death would be of no benefit and, in fact, substantial waste if it happened by accident, by starvation. While he didn't doubt the Prince would kill him if Lyoshka proved disobedient... Lyoshka hoped he wasn't quite at that point yet.

A corner of Lyoshka's mouth quirked at the posed question. Did he grow up poor? Hardly. He'd laugh, if the situation wasn't so serious. Noriko no Ariake on the streets, when she was born to the great-niece of a main-branch Queen of the Ariake? In a Territory where blood, honor, and the family line were so important? When her firstborn child and heir was an Opal Priestess, and her youngest child a Healer with the Red? Even if he had been born into an impoverished family, the tides for them would have turned on a female child with such a potent gift within the clan. Lyoshka knew well how many offers there had been to take him on as an apprentice. "No, sir," said Lyoshka. "My family is well-known in my homeland. I was a ward of the Territory Court."

Was, because now he was a slave. Slaves did not hold rank. In a way, that was welcome, but that way was twisted and unworthy of him. The shivering ghost of a smile disappeared again, and he stared down at his plate, thinking of Yuki. It would mean dishonor on her and her family line to have a slave serving her or bound to her, anyway... Which was an unpleasant thought.

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #19 on: Jan 14, 18, 03:27:47 PM »
"Ah, someone important. An aristo, then?" Garen asked idly, a small smile growing behind the edge of his hand as his fingers ran across his upper lip slowly back and forth in thought. One of the slaves, a young man with cropped black hair and smooth skin and bright blue eyes (though downcast during his approach), arrived and brought a large, freshly baked pie that smelled of cinnamon and a touch of spice along with hints of caramel. They placed the pie before Lyoshka then, and Garen just gave a slight raise of his fingertips to shoo the person away. They left without making eye contact with either Garen or Lyoshka, a spectre moving in the bright sun outside.

"I figured as much." He nodded toward the spread in front of the Healer. "Because the poor ones eat anything and everything put in front of them. They don't tend to be picky." He extended a hand and a wisp of Yellow power brought another apple up to his hand which he caught with ease, but didn't dig into right away. "The Dark Jeweled ones, especially. They eat a whole house full of food. I'm lucky in that I've never had the pit that needs to get filled by a whole cart of food in order to feel full."

Garen bit into the apple then, chewing thoughtfully as he considered Lyoshka before him, tapping idly on the round upper hemisphere of the fruit. "I grew up poor. Do you know that?" He asked the slave, awaiting a response before continuing (as it didn't matter what Lyoshka's answer was). "My grandparents had been respected, wealthy, well-known. My father fucked that all up with drinking, gambling, and bad investments. He took his frustrations out on my mother, and then on me when I got in his way."

The Slaver bit into his apple again, chewing for a moment and enjoying the flavor of the crisp, fresh fruit. "What do you think you would have done, had you not ended up in Raej as someone's slave? If you hadn't killed someone.

What were you going to do with all that power that Mother Night randomly decided to give you?"




Offline Lyoshka no Ariake

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #20 on: Jan 14, 18, 06:00:49 PM »
Lyoshka knew next to nothing about Garen, aside from what he had been told. The man was a monster, a rapist, and worse. He kept other human beings in thrall and restricted their will through devices that turned their own bodies against them, made enemies of their own skin. Well, that last part wasn't so much new to Lyoshka, who viewed his body as a cage, but the fact that the interference came from without rather than within was... worse, almost. He didn't have to deal with the things Garen was inflicting on him. That was the difference.

"Not quite, sir," said Lyoshka, as to the question about his heritage. His mother would've said yes. But they were branch clan, not main line, which made them a little less than. It hadn't bothered Lyoshka, as a boy, but he supposed there was little enough difference to someone who hadn't had anything.

He shook his head, and said, "No sir," when Garen asked how much Lyoshka knew about him. While such things did happen in Tacea--wastrel sons and daughters ruining their lines--the abuse, he liked to think, would have been done away with. Such acts were worthy of execution, or the breaking of the perpetrator's Jewels. Though Lyoshka himself had no desire to take advantage of the social capital given to him by the Caste he wore and the gender he had been assigned, the Queens who ruled in Tacea used it to protect those in their charge. They were dragons in human form, after all. Such was their right.

What would he have done? "I would have served in a Court somewhere," he said. "When someone defied my Queen, I would have been called upon to destroy them." And that was when he would've had to decide what the proper course of action was. In his hands would have been lives, things that his Healer training ought to have taught him to compartmentalize. But that training had never taken; he dreaded that.

What he really would've done, had that Summer-sky woman not come to his room and drugged him and thrown him into a fucking slave pit, was run away. The time would have come when Yuki had all the information she needed, and she would have asked him to return to Tacea with her. Lyoshka had already been planning his refusal, how he would explain that he couldn't go back, wouldn't go back, didn't want the future that Tacea promised. He had a duty to do right and to do good, because he would wear the Gray at the lightest. If he wore the Black, then... He wasn't Witch, but what she had done was theoretically within his power. He could've forced the world to adhere to his morals.

But if he went where no one could find him, then he never would have to do that. He could hide the Black and just be another Healer in a crowd. The thought pleased him; that would be the best ending.

"What are you going to do with all this power Mother Night randomly decided to gift me, sir," he asked. Because why not? He was getting tired of all this suspense.

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #21 on: Jan 15, 18, 04:58:09 PM »
"Heh, what a noble cause." Garen's words dripped with mockery, his derision for Lysohka's previous life clear. "To serve as some Queen's enforcer and an executioner. What a magnificent waste of your Caste and your Jewels. You can Descend to the Black maybe. Maybe hold the power of Witch, and that's what you'd been signed off to."

Garen gestured to himself then as he slowly began to sit up. He tossed the apple away from him, discarding it. He was no longer a starving man who needed every morsel of food he could get his hands on. His fingers gestured to his White and Yellow that he wore around his neck. "I'll never know that power personally. That potential. I got my Jewels Cut and Used. The hand-me-downs of someone who died before. You? You've got something special, Lyoshka, and the fact that you've been bartered away means that people don't realize it.

Take Jolie, for instance. Did you ever stop and wonder why she sold you to me? Why she'd trade you back to me for her crippled mother? She could have waited and tried to manipulate you into saving her mother for her. Could have offered your freedom in exchange for taking your newly acquired Descent and levelling everything I've built. Everything I've made. Do you know why we're both here, Lyoshka?"


It was a rhetorical question, and he waited on her hesitation to answer it. She was fraught with hesitation, with the inability to speak her mind, because either she lacked the fucking spine to say or she was dim-witted.

"Because most people are content to take whatever the world gives them. They lack the ability to see the potential in people. To see what they could become, including themselves, if they made the effort. They are afraid because they don't want to be cruel. They want to be seen as kind. They want to be liked."

Garen lifted his hand up and gestured toward himself. "I don't care if people like me, or not. Because at the end of the day, them liking me, me being kind, would have left me broke and starving in a house my father gambled away."

Then Garen pointed at the food in front of Lysohka, his eyes narrowed and focused. "You have a whole fucking feast in front of you and you have obviously not eaten in days. You wear the Red. Eat the fucking food." His words were a hard, sharp command. A verbal whip he had cracked against her.

Only when the Red Jeweled Healer began to eat did Garen slowly exhale, seeming to refocus on her question. "This Territory is dying. I have an idealistic Queen who's sold her soul to the Guilds to try and save it, and hasn't done jack and dick in a year to fix what's wrong with it. She, too, suffers the same problem that so many others do -- she wants to be good, she wants to be the hero in her own story.

There's not enough Healers to fix the sick. Not enough food to feed everyone. I've been spending an obnoxious amount of money to help Riley and her stupid plans. All it is is trying to dig water out of a sinking boat with a bucket."


Garen pointed slowly, the finger that held the Control Ring that controlled her fate solidly on the indicating digit. "You, Lyoshka, are going to save this whole fuckin' Territory. I'm going to make sure your Gray, or your Ebon Gray, or your Black are put to the right use. You're going to be the fucking Messiah these people so desperately want. The one Riley wanted to be so badly."

The Slaver smirked, finding something funny, all at once. "Heh, I guess in the end I'll be the one that's liked after all.

No-one's even going to care that there's a collar around your neck, because in the end.. you'd have just let them all suffer anyway, wouldn't you?"






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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #22 on: Jan 15, 18, 06:31:50 PM »
It wouldn't have been a waste to be Yuki's Healer and executioner. It wouldn't have been a waste at all. Lyoshka had been proud of that part of his future, when it had seemed inescapable. Then the world had opened up, and everything changed. He wasn't part of a small and enclosed society anymore. There were options beyond service and childrearing. He could have disappeared... until that bitch had drugged him and thrown him in a pit.

Lyoshka, unlike Garen, wanted to be liked. He wanted to take care of people and to do what was right by them. It happened that the right way to care for the world was for Lyoshka to disappear, to never be put in a position of authority, to let others more qualified to make decisions make them. He didn't have the right to the power that Garen extolled, and he didn't want it. He'd trade it for Garen's White and Yellow in a heartbeat. Let someone else be given the power to destroy a Realm; he only wanted to be left to himself.

He didn't interrupt Garen to tell him that he never would've cooperated with Jolie. Not for Jolie's sake. Not when there was so much potential for collateral. The blue-eyed boy who had brought the pie didn't deserve to die for Garen's sins. At Garen's order, Lyoshka stopped contemplating the matter of the pie and started to eat. That tone implied that if he didn't, he'd soon find out just how badly Garen could fuck him up. So he did--and it all tasted like sawdust--because nothing was worth the loss of his Red before his work was done.

Garen explained his goal. Lyoshka's role in it. And Lyoshka put a hand over his mouth so he wouldn't vomit at the thought of notoriety. You're going to be the fucking Messiah these people so desperately want... Being recognized. Hailed for his Caste and his Jewel and all of it under the control of a monster, where everyone could see how he bowed and scraped. Lyoshka didn't think he was worthy of the Black or even the Ebon Gray, but he had his pride. He had no desire for his Queen to be seen to have mentored a slave, and his possible Descents were a rare enough Jewels that Lyoshka couldn't delude himself that it would stay within Dena Nehele. And Garen said he only wanted to save Dena Nehele--why stop there? With godlike power that had torn apart two Realms in his hands?

Maybe he would be better off without the Red after all. Even if Garen had done nothing to him personally--yet--he'd done awful things to other people. It wasn't right to hand him a rod to subjugate a people, even if he intended to let the man hold it only long enough to kill him. Who knew when Lyoshka would determine the best way to free the slaves beneath him? Could he risk that? Not in good conscience.

"No, I'm not," said Lyoshka. He didn't look up from his hands, which had stilled. His stomach rolled and he wanted to snatch the words back as soon as he'd said them. "I'm not a Queen. People won't follow me. And I don't think they'll follow you, either. Maybe I can heal the sick, but I can't fix the food problem, and I can't--make people--" He cut off, choking on the words and what pain he knew they were going to bring him.

It still had to be done.

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #23 on: Jan 15, 18, 06:44:51 PM »
Lyoshka suddenly found her voice. In that moment, Garen watched her as she looked down at her hands and spoke them with such conviction -- to her own fingers. The statement made him smile, and then rather than grow wrathful, Garen laughed.

"People follow whoever gives them hope, girl. They don't curse my name out there." The slaver lifted his ring-covered hand and gestured with a sweeping motion toward the wide open expanse beyond. "They praise it. I've had hundreds come to me and beg me to put a collar around their neck, including Jolie's mother. Do you know why?

Because I feed them when they are starving. I give them a warm place to sleep. Clothes. Education for their children. All of this that you see?"
Garen motioned then to the ground beneath them, then back to the huge home he now lived within. "I built from nothing and put idle hands to proper use.

I've lived my whole life knowing a Territory without Queens. You'd be surprised what you can do when you stop thinking what is the realm of only Queens."


Garen leaned closer then, halfway above the table, the distance between them closed. His words were a soft, vicious purr as his lips covered a thin smile closer toward her downturned face. "They won't follow you. They're going to worship you. When you save their loved ones from Guild Contracts and the diseases that run fucking rampant through this Territory?

When every aristo is going to want Lyoshka to heal their precious children, to see to their needs? I'll have enough money to import as much fucking food as I want from Hayll, and Raej, and every other bountiful place that cares more about money than grain.

People can live a long time on bread alone. Believe me, I've done it."


He leaned back slowly in his seat then, giving her some space. Not because he particularly cared for her comfort, but because he wanted to be more comfortable in his chair. "Now. Take a deep breath, and eat your food." He reached a hand out, and another apple floated up into his hand.

"There are people who are starving, you know."




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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #24 on: Jan 15, 18, 06:59:13 PM »
Lyoshka didn't look up at Garen. He didn't look out at the open landscape around them. If Garen had the power to do all of this, if he could feed the starving and provide warm places to sleep, then he ought to have done it already. It oughtn't depend on the return; it ought to be done as a matter of course. The fact that there were poor and hungry people out in Dena Nehele while Garen gave unthinkable sums to slavers, rewarding acts that ran counter to everything that the Blood ought to be, was... Lyoshka never would have believed it, had he not seen it for himself.

Healing disease, turning his power to good, that was fine and good, but it was the fact that it would benefit this man, who wanted to do good things for his own personal power... It felt wrong to him, to turn against this goal. He wanted to help people. But this was just the future he'd been promised in Tacea, rebranded, names changed, and made in the image of a man he couldn't respect. For Yuki he would have forced a Territory to its knees. She was his sister, his Queen, a dragon in human skin. She knew him for just who he was. For Garen L'Voide?

Jolie hadn't been lying. Garen had threatened, not more than ten minutes ago, to see Lyoshka raped and broken if it suited him. Men did not make threats like that without meaning them, not when the crime was so severe. And no one, anywhere, would care if Garen ruined Lyoshka that way--about that the man was not wrong.

Even if he had wanted to eat, he couldn't have. "Do they praise your name when you rape them, sir," he asked.

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #25 on: Jan 15, 18, 07:28:08 PM »
Trigger Warning: Non-Consent, Rape.



It had been a single bit of dialogue. A single sentence and yet it held so much more in it than just the words alone. The sentence had rebellion in it. It had contempt. It had the suggestion that what he had done meant nothing at all.

That he, in fact, meant nothing at all.

"Heh." A half-laugh, a single indication he found her comment amusing. "Sometimes, they do." Garen said it without shame or an iota of hesitation. He leaned back into his seat and tapped at his cheek and then his jaw idly. "Sometimes they cry. Sometimes they moan. Sometimes they beg for more."

Then at once, without warning or provocation sensation flared through Lyoshka. The insidious ring didn't inflict the agony that had spiked into her before, but the warm rise of arousal that came from being orally pleasured. It bloomed from between her thighs into her chest, and with such ferocity it would rob her of managing her breath and of much her focus. She could see Tymeon moving behind Garen, starting to come closer to her as he leaned back into his seat.

"Warlord Princes in their ruts. Queens and their Price taking. Witch and the Purge. We are a violent, terrible people, Lyoshka. Worse than animals, really. Softness in this world doesn't matter. There's no great reward to the meek. You get what you take. Any joy in this life is the one you make for yourself. And if it has to be at the expense of others?

Well. That's how the world works."


Garen made it worse, exacerbated, her whole body was aflame with sensation. The worst sort of violation because even though it was alien in nature it was hers. It wasn't someone physically pushing her down, but her body enjoying every moment of it as Garen turned the nerves, neurons, blood vessels, and her own heart against her.

He pushed her harder, let her rise up sharp and then come down slowly so that she could breathe. The apex of her climax so very near, and yet he denied her that as he watched her while his finger moved idly back and forth across his mouth.

Tymeon reached down to gently slice a piece of pie. He picked it up with brawny fingers and gently reached out for her hair. If she tried to pull away the much larger, stronger slave was insistent and took hold of her hair, but he held it only enough to not have her head jerk away.

"This is your reality now, Lyoshka." Garen said gently. "It can be a pleasant one, where Tymeon here gently feeds you and then will take you to your room, make sure you're bathed and given a nice, comfortable bed to sleep. I'll even forgive your tone, let you cum, and you can start your time here on a good note.

Or."
The pleasure stopped, and as it began to fade fire began to bloom inside her -- an unwelcome heat that made her itch at first before it gave way to sharp pain.

"He can force that piece of pie down your throat, and then another, and another, until you vomit and then he rubs your face in it with his foot until you throw up again. And when there's nothing left in your ungrateful fucking belly he will take you to wherever he fucking pleases, to do whatever he fucking pleases with you, short of killing you or breaking your Chalice."

The heat stopped, the pleasure too. All that was left was the aftermath of the Ring, and Tymeon looking down at her with calm, stone cold eyes as he brought the cake toward her mouth in a gentle, almost loving fashion.

"I can break you without breaking your Chalice. I can rape you without ever touching your body. I can get to wherever you think you can hide. I can do with you whatever I want.

With or without the ring."


Garen sighed softly, shaking his head in bored dismay. "Now." he nodded toward the Raejian. "Eat your food, and thank Tymeon for being so nice to you."





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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #26 on: Jan 15, 18, 08:51:00 PM »
Lyoshka felt it low in his gut. Garen's punishment didn't have to gain much intensity, if any at all, before Lyoshka could focus on nothing else, before he was curling his fingers around the collar to try to pull it free. Somewhere outside of this personal hell, Garen was talking, and in what little focus he could summon up he could see the tall Green-Jeweled slave finally leaving his post.

Every single sensation made this moment worse. He would have welcomed pain over the agony that was the winter breeze against his skin, heightening each wave of sensation; he would have, but there wasn't an option. No one asking him to choose, so he suffered it. He had to. If he wanted to cum, it was only so all of this would stop. If it would just stop, if the ring didn't exist, he could have his focus and his clarity of purpose back. He could choose that second option and endure. Instead, it was just--how revolting it felt to have Tymeon's hand in his hair--how good it felt, that pressure keeping his head in place.

When the pleasure stopped and the pain began, Lyoshka could have sobbed with relief, and he did. If there were tears, and there were, he was barely aware of them. He wanted to peel his skin off to stop the burning, even without knowing if it would help. He wanted to fucking die.

But Garen wouldn't allow it. Not even the passive death of starvation, which would come quickly for a Red Jewel.

It all faded and Lyoshka could focus again, but his resolve--the coldness of purpose that had allowed him to ask Garen that question--was shattered. He wanted to be done. He wanted to take a bath and go to bed and never, ever find out what Garen would do if Lyoshka should transgress again. Shuddering, aching from the pain and the pleasure both, he said, "Thank you, Prince Tymeon, for being so nice to me."

He wished they would try to break him. It would have been less humiliating.

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Re: Tis the season
« Reply #27 on: Jan 15, 18, 09:07:45 PM »
The tears that came from Lyoshka's face were, in and of themselves, a pleasure. To see someone who had so much power brought low by a mere thought of his was arousing and it was intoxicating. There was a reason he enjoyed breaking the Dark Jeweled ones most of all. Like wild horses they were beautiful and fierce, but made even better when he subsumed their strength to serve him.

He slowly got to his feet. He considered, for a moment, driving the point further home that her existence only continued because he desired it to. He thought for a moment to humiliate her further; to break her down into nothing but pieces so that he could begin to reforge her. Break the blade to make it stronger, isn't that what blacksmiths did?

But she had taken up a great deal of his time, and between her and Jolie they had distracted him from spending time with his daughter and fucking her mother. So rather than degrade the bitch after she'd learned her lesson, he merely walked over slowly toward her. Tymeon stopped from feeding her at his mental command, and he reached out slowly to run his fingers through her dark hair. It was somewhat dirty, but he could feel the softness beneath it.

"Obey me, and I will take care of you." Garen said gently, his words soft and pleasant as the pleasure flowed through her again. "You will want for nothing. Freedom, itself, is just a lie. With me there is security. There is comfort." The pleasured flowed through her, and he ran his fingers along the back of her neck to hold the base of her skull.

He could crush her head like a fucking grape. He reached out with his other hand, grabbed her wrist and placed her hand against his crotch. He was hard, and she could feel him thick beneath his trousers. He held her hand there as he made her body rise toward that blissful release.

"Thank me, for giving you this." His words were a forceful purr. She would, he knew, because she understood now that there was no escaping what he could do to her -- no resisting it.

She thanked him, and he made her stroke his cock through his trousers as he made her cum. As she moaned and cried, he resisted having her finish him off. He'd save himself for later, and remember that sound when he came tonight.

As she came down from her release, he eased his control of her body and slowly lowered her hand from his groin. Tymeon waited nearby, impassive and uncaring for her plight for he had seen it all before.

"She's not hungry Tymeon. She's probably tired. Be gentle with her, will you?" He said to the Raejian, smiling as he walked over to him and patted his cheek gently. "Get her cleaned up and put to bed. Not someone else. You." He turned Tymeon's face to look into Garen's then, to let her hear what he had to say.

"She's special to us, now. Make sure someone's around to feed her, if she gets hungry."

Then without another word Garen turned and left, leaving them both behind. Tymeon turned from staring ahead to the Healer beneath him, and he slowly leaned down to pick her up with solid, large arms. "Come along." The slave said without empathy, scooping her up by her legs and back and holding her solidly. He seemed to expect that she'd have difficulty commanding her body after what had just happened. "The bath will help." He said without pity, yet in the wake of the cruelty that was just shown, the impassiveness of the Raejian may have been a balm in and of itself.




 

 

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