Drip-Fed Pt. 08

Prologue 1 -- The monsters

Aclysia was ordering the teeth on the table for what may have been the hundredth time. The pearly white pieces slid over the table, taking their place one by one in an imaginary, jawless, maw and around a single emerald feather. It was all she could do to keep her mind occupied. Ten teeth and a single feather, that was all she was able to save from Apexus' body. Everything else had fallen into the nothingness, was unfitting to be keepsake or too large to be taken with when the Inquisition had dragged her away.

She barely remembered what had happened after her beloved awakener's death. A terrifying neutrality had taken hold of her, the kind of emotional shock that prevented further mental damage from occurring immediately. One that she had been stuck in for the short time since. When they had tried to take her away, she had struggled and broken free once, unwilling to move away. That was when she had hastily clamoured whatever parts of the slime weren't subject to biological degradation. Afterwards, the brute had dragged her away.

The same brute that was now in the room with her.

Berholdth, a name she had heard by chance, just like the other two. He was a giant man with dark hair and light brown eyes. A square jaw and broad shoulders completed the look of a person who was made to be a Warrior. With fists of that size and the right training, there would be very few problems violence couldn't solve. In a rugged way he looked good, but was not particularly handsome.

Next to him, outside of her charred leather armour and into her blue robes, was Evmeria. The Inquisitor was a good-looking woman. With the fine black hair, cut relatively short, and her lanky build, she would have made for quite a noblewoman. Much like the stereotypical noblewoman, Evmeria also radiated a cold dismissiveness and even though her eyes were nothing but blind glass spheres, they seemingly radiated some sort of scorn.

Last of the trio was Mehily. A person that only lived thanks to Aclysia's own intervention. The blonde had the face of a Priest aiming to be an adventurer. That was to say, it had hard shapes, a clearly defined nose, a reddish mouth, thick eyebrows. She wasn't gorgeous by any means, she was, however, attractive for those who liked their woman to look strong and capable.

Capable enough to rip two loved ones apart, certainly.

Mehily herself, although she stood there diligently, as duty commanded, was internally squirming as the angel of Hashahin stared at the three of them. Aclysia was a beautiful being, pale skin, a wonderfully symmetric head, from the facial features to the pointy ears and even the basis of hair. Her body would make countless men's head turn. 'Not just men,' as the Priest herself had to admit, unable to withhold pity for the metal fairy and her sheer endless stream of tears that dropped onto the lap of her halfway ruined dress.

They had offered her whatever she wanted, food, drink, new clothes, but so far, the divine messenger had not broken her silence. She had just sat down on the table in this room and waited since. Always reserved for angels and their kind, it was a highly luxurious place, on the highest floor of the Church of the 33. Every bit of furniture was dominated by glass, finely cut into crystal shapes. What wasn't as clearly polished as the air itself was some sort of artistic relief. Even the floor was one continuously expanding painting of the circle of seasons, showing a tree from above in the numerous stages of holding leaves. Decay, death, rebirth, life, a never-ending cycle to the colours of brown, blue, green and red. In the middle of it all, a circle of perfect white, the branches and leaves clearly outlined with black lines.

Aclysia turned back to rearranging the teeth, trying to find where they had been in Apexus face exactly. That she wasn't sure where which one belonged irked her to an illogical degree. If only she had paid even more attention to him, maybe she would know. Maybe this wouldn't have happened at all.

'If I hadn't held Reysha back then...' Aclysia thought but only felt her tears more clearly. That wasn't the solution to this problem. It wasn't their mercy that caused this situation. Quite the reverse was the true problem here.

The door to the room opened with a quiet whisper as well-oiled angles swung inside. Aclysia looked to the side long enough to perceive the new arrival. A man of advanced age entered. Tanned skin, bushy black beard with grey streaks, a bit tall and definitely muscular. Most important was his robe.

As all Priest robes it was white at the base, to pay veneration to the Progenitor god, and then added the colour of the gods he was further serving. Icy blue, dark green and a neutral red. If she had wanted to, Aclysia could have analysed which exact gods he was serving by the shades. As it stood, she could only barely see the golden embroidery on his shoulders, which gave him an incredibly important rank throughout all the multiverse.

One that she honoured reflexively despite her current state of grief. "Cardinal," she said, respectfully lowering her head, even now her voice was as clear and wonderful as the ringing of a crystal chalice.

"Angel of Hashahin, Aclysia," the man answered. "My name is Remezan, for a divine such as you, that will be enough."

"I have no claims to my divine birthright," Aclysia retorted and went back to assorting the teeth around the feather.

Slowly the Cardinal came closer, sitting down opposite of her as if he could shatter her existence if he moved too quickly. His tone was just as carefully prodding. "And why would that be?"

"I forfeit it, to remain on this world, remain with him," Aclysia responded.

"IT," Evmeria violently interjected, her disdain for the slime in question and the metal fairy's decisions as clear as the driven snow in her voice.

"Quiet!" Remezan lashed back at her just as violently and the Inquisitor lowered her head. Not in shame, but in simple submission to a superior. When he addressed Aclysia again, the ever-crying angel acted as if the interjection had never happened. "Could you elaborate on that? I have been wondering how you remain here, with your Quest fulfilled and your awakener dead."

"What good would it do you to know?" Aclysia wondered.

"I need to understand a lot of things," Remezan continued to calmly but firmly push her to answers. "So, please, answer me. What harm does it do to you?"

Indeed, there was no more harm to be done to her. Only truth to be spoken. "Upon the completion of the quest, Apexus, my awakener, my darling, asked of me to wish for me to stay by his side. Happily, I obliged, bringing the quest to my father. Hashahin was not happy with this. He did not wish for me stay in servitude..."

"...to a monster, no surprise."

"Evmeria!" Remezan growled and the earlier play repeated itself.

"...he wished me to, if I were to remain, do so as a free person, not as a tool to Apexus. Therefore, we came to decide that I could remain walking the leaves as a person as ordinary as I can be for as long as I love him," Aclysia gently caressed the feather in front of her. "A love that won't die soon."

"You loved a monster?" Mehily could not help but ask.

The metal fairy's head flew up, her green eyes reflecting with such terrible wrath that the Priest could not help and take a step backwards. Divine anger mixed with the irrational retribution of a sorrowful lover in Aclysia voice, "Monster, monster, monster," Aclysia felt something break inside her on that question, the dam that had kept reality from properly creeping in on her. "You keep repeating that word like it's a mantra that justifies your actions. Whatever did my darling do that was so monstrous? How many people did he hurt? Unlike you, who would rather see him dead than captured, he spared your lives. Indeed, the only monsters I can observe as of this moment are you." She looked back down, to the infinite, unsolvable puzzle of Apexus incomplete, unique jaw. "Leave me alone, your presence itself disgusts me."

Remezan pressed his lips together, feeling that he won't get answers to the questions of Apotho right now. "If you need anything, please, call for the servant in front of the door," he stayed nice and rose. After he left, Evmeria followed, as did Berholdth and Mehily.

The blonde priestess looked back to close the door. Wondering if, perhaps, it was indeed them who had acted the part of the monsters.

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Prologue 2 -- The sinners

Water dripped from the cobblestone ceiling. One small bit after another, it fell into a puddle that formed inside the room an eternity ago, and had since transformed much of the ground into a slippery mess, covered with a layer of small algae. The puddle only grew on rainy days, when the ground water rose and prevented the constant dripping from seeping through the cracks.

The only thing illuminating the cell were the two iron-barred windows. One in the upper corner of the cell, up the slippery wall and even if reached, too narrow for people to fit through. The second, in the heavy wooden, metal reinforced door. Through those openings, limited amounts of torch and sunlight entered the room. The only furniture was a slab of stone with rough sleeping equipment and a bucket in the corner.

And inside this room, the worst cell they had for prisoners, Reysha was yawning. Her eyes closed for a moment as her mouth opened wide and lips pulled back. At the same time as her fangs were revealed, her scarlet red cat ears turned and went somewhat flat on her head, giving her a fierce, if bored, look. As her features relaxed again, she was reduced to just the bored part, staring at the person at the other side of the door. The slits of her pupils were wide, perfect to focus prey even at the low light level of the cell.

"I ask again, criminal," the stern voice of the interrogator echoed, the steady scribbling from a protocol writer behind him. "How was Trebouran involved in your fleeing operation?"

"We had a sympathetic guy with us who threatened his wife in order to force him to smuggle us out," Reysha answered in a beyond bored tone. "How many more times do you want to hear that?"

"Until you speak the actual truth."

The redhead's tone suddenly switched into a deliberately infuriating cuteness, "But what if it is the truth, officer?"

Of course, both she and him knew that it was utter horse manure. They also both knew that, unless he found some contradicting parts between her story and the one Trebby and his wife were telling, he had to work with what he got and let the smuggler run. The couple was unlikely to do anything that would rat the other out and they had years to decide on a story that was believable.

Therefore, the interrogator was pushing on the weakest link. "What did the guy look like?"

"I don't really know, he was always keeping himself covered and we only met in the dark."

"Why did he help you?"

"Not a fucking clue."

"You don't know what your helper looks like and why he helped you?"

"He had his own ass to cover, obviously successfully, given that you are too shit at your job to find him," Reysha mocked openly, standing up from her seat on the bed. They had taken her armour from her, leaving her wearing clothes that either were made from or had the same quality as a potato sack. Same aesthetic as well.

As she walked, uncaring about the cold squishiness of the slimy ground between her naked toes, she swayed her hips in a mockingly sexual matter. That her hands were bound behind her back didn't help.

"You can either believe me or stop bothering me with this shit," Reysha growled quietly, once she was as face to face as the door allowed. "Seriously, you can go ride whatever guardsmen's cock you want and leave me alone."

The interrogator was quiet for a few moments, then apparently decided to play his trump card. "You're going to be executed."

This actually hit Reysha as somewhat of a shock. She had guessed a minimum level of detainment until Noir had faded and several years on top of that. After all, the sum total of her crimes was working with a smuggler and missing her loan payments. Everything else were things that society at large and the Church in particular didn't like, but technically nothing illegal.

"What for?" was the therefore justified question.

"Beats me," the interrogator shrugged, his guardsman armour, a full plate thing, clinking along with the motion. "The council decided and what they say is law around here. I don't care why they want you killed, just that I'll be able to lessen that sentence if you cooperate with me."

"That so?" Reysha giggled and blinked fashionably a few times, lowering her head to show her cute side. "You should have led with that," she said with genuine sweetness. Taking a step back from the door, so the interrogator could see her in her entirety, she added, "I'll be open to give you whatever you want, in that case."

She didn't leave any doubt over her intentions when she turned around and pulled down her sorry excuse for pants as best as her bound hands could. Which barely revealed a bit of her naked ass, but even that invitation of brown, round flesh was enough to water the appetite of any grown man.

"Ah," she moaned and suddenly snapped back. "We Regressians go into heat sometimes, you know... I really need it right now... can barely think... it makes me all mooooody."

"Crazy bitch..." the interrogator mumbled, under the misconception that she couldn't hear him if he spoke quietly. With less blood in his brain than in his lower half, he looked around once, to make sure none of his colleagues were around, then grabbed his keychain. The scribe that was with him sighed in a way that made clear this wasn't the first time something like this happened.

"If she's one of the really horny ones, call me when you're done," the second man said as he turned to leave.

"I thought you didn't take sloppy seconds," the interrogator bantered. They had been together in this business for so long, this was just the usual job talk to them. From the official dirty things they had to do to the unofficial dirty things they did to make this job worth their time.

"Usually not, but I was there when they took her clothes. I don't mind with her," the scribe was heading for the stairs. "Anyway, I'll have a quick beer. Later."

"Later," the interrogator waved off and pushed the key in. The heavy lock echoed when the iron in the mechanism snapped back. "No tricks!" he warned Reysha.

Horny or not, the interrogator wasn't stupid enough to think this was guaranteed to go without incident just because the captive had her hands bound. As the overseer of the worst part of prison, he had to deal with a lot of scum over the years. A lot of which, like her, had offered some niceties in exchange for better treatment. If she was going to do anything stupid, the guard would just pull forward the execution date, so to speak.

Reysha seemed very perceptive and honest, however, her face flushing, biting her lips, eyes darting towards the groin piece of the armour. None of the usual telling signs that some irrational mass murdered was about to jump on him. In his plate armour, he would have just laughed at the punches anyhow.

Instead, she backed away, to the bed, where she laid limply and waited for him to come closer. Still a hand on the hilt of his sword, the interrogator followed. If she really was in heat, he wouldn't even have to try and make her enjoy this. At least if the rumours about catgirls in general were true.

He took one more step towards her, begun bowing down to tug that sack off her curves and see that attractive body in all its glory. Suddenly all of that enticing sweetness dropped from her like ripped off bandage. Reysha's eyes went wide, her body curled up, only to deliver a forceful kick to the interrogator's legs, close to the ankles.

It didn't hurt him in the slightest, the metal plating doing its job. However, what that sudden impact did do was throw him of balance. Torso bent forward, feet sliding over the slippery floor, he was dropping down. His forehead slammed against the edge of the stone slab that served as the bed.

For a moment everything when black in front of his eyes. Sounds became dull, but he could clearly make out a prolonged cackling as the tiger girl showed her true colours again. "By the roots, you're a fucking idiot," she called him out. "Who actually believes Regressians go into heat?"

The interrogator had no time to agree with his own foolishness. In his ten years in this post, none of the prisoners had showed this level of methodical vileness. Right now, he had to spend more energy on trying to grab his weapon though.

Something that Reysha let happen, just watching as the dazed guard unsheathed his sword. Even with that weapon in hand, she didn't feel threatened by him. The impact still left him without proper orientation and she had no intention of letting him get back on his feet properly. The tiger girl launched a simple tackle that threw the half-raised man back off centre. This time he landed on his back and Reysha lost no time seizing the opportunity.

Leaping on top of him, her fangs sunk into his throat. 'Should have worn a helmet, you ass,' she mocked him mentally, no time to form actual words as her teeth viciously tore into him. Not just once, that wouldn't have done it. Trained humanoids, men especially, had a lot of muscles that prevented bites like this from being necessarily lethal. To make sure she got the job done, she needed to maul at him over and over again, tearing out piece by piece and separating tendons and nerves.

Human blood tasted as foul to her as any other food. She had expected the iron, salty taste, but instead felt nausea and disgust as a flavour like five week old rotting compost filled her mouth. Just a tinge of what may have been the original fruit, before the composting, a hint of delicious sweetness, laid under all of that.

A deeply bothersome crunch came along with the tearing of the voicebox. The interrogator gargled and twitched, trying to raise his sword arm to stab her in the side, if only as a final act of vengeance, but Reysha had it fixed under a knee.

Eventually, she felt the twitching under her stopping. With a disgusted, "Bluargh," she spat out the mouthful of human flesh. She had the desperate wish to clean her tongue. Well, her everything, tearing someone's throat out was a pretty bloody business. 'What now?' she asked herself.

She hadn't even done this to escape. She had just really wanted to murder someone involved with Apexus' death. Only now that he was gone, did she realize that she had perhaps felt more for the slime than a simple friendship. She hesitated to call it love, at the very least it wasn't anything close to the feelings of Aclysia, but for sure did she want to stab every last fucker that had done this to her.

However, she was way too weak for that right now.

'Well, first step is getting out of here,' she told herself and looked to the drawn sword. The question was if she could use that edge to cut open her bonds before the scribe, or anybody else, came down here.

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Prologue 3 -- The greedy

"It looks so nice," Lubrin hummed, turning the black pearl-like object in his hands. He wasn't even touching it directly, not wanting to stain his newest acquisition in any way. Instead, a pure white cleaning cloth laid between his hands and the shining smooth core of the odd slime creature. "You always deliver, Gabrame."

Sitting on a nearby couch, finally somewhere comfortable after the weeks of actual work he had to do to get that thing, the sharpshooter tipped his hat in a lazy, moderately tired way. "And you always pay me," he pointed out, waiting for the massive bag of gold on the heavily decorated table to switch owners.